#HEAVENS EDGE Shattered Worlds

[iimplicitt]

GOOD LOOKING | OP81

pairings: oscar piastri x singer girlfriend! unnamed fem character (faceclaim suki waterhouse)

summary: oscar and his girlfriend had been dating for a while now, and what better way to hard launch their relationship than on her debut concert of her tour?

warnings: intense public make out, kind of an inappropriate time to have a boner but oscar isn’t exactly thinking straight, social media posts at the end

song inspo: good looking by suki waterhouse

wc: 2.8k

requests open!!

The roar of the crowd could be heard as the lights dimmed in the venue. Thousands of people cheered, all for her and the moment felt so surreal she thought about pinching herself. This was her biggest show yet, the debut of her tour after her album had blown up in the charts. Something she was beyond grateful for but she was terrified she wouldn’t be able to handle it.

So many stars burned out.

“Hey,” a hand ran comforting circles into her lower back.

Turning, her anxiety melted away easily as her boyfriend smiled down at her. His presence was always comforting with no words even needing to be spoken. He had helped keep her head grounded as fame started to pile itself quickly on top of her, given he had plenty of experience.

Formula One drivers don’t exactly have the luxury of flying under the radar. But his experience was helpful in easing her worries, teaching her how to tune everything out and still experience all the great parts it offered.

If she thought an arena of a few thousand was big, Oscar probably considered this a small scale meet and greet given his race weekends got up to around 300,000 people. She wasn’t sure how he adjusted so well, but maybe his stardom was more gradual as he moved up the leagues as he got older.

For her, it felt like she went to bed one day unknown and woke up the next with her face plastered on the side of buildings.

Still, Oscar was private. He went to as many of her shows as he was able to given his schedule was full for a good chunk of the year. It was difficult, but worth all the tears and stress.

Usually he was hidden away, sticking to the shadows to give his support. Although they’ve been dating for well over a three years now, they were very good at hiding it. Their work schedules being almost completely incompatible helped and there weren’t even the faintest of whispers on any gossip sites or accounts.

Tonight though, he made it adamant he wanted to be there for her first big night, headlining her own tour and the way he looked at her with such pride in his eyes made her feel like she was melting through the floor.

He was heaven sent, she was sure of it.

She had been going through hell, one of the worst break ups. The kind that made it feel like her heart was rotting out of her chest and she couldn’t breathe, even after months the pain and second guessing was there. Even if she no longer cared about her ex anymore, the thought of not feeling like enough for someone was brutal. The feeling of not being wanted by someone she considered to be her whole world shattering reality at its edges.

Being cheated on felt like hell. It was hell. Burning her up and killing her slowly.

All the sleepless nights blaming herself, wondering what she had done wrong to make him lose interest. Wondering what was the first day his eyes wandered and why hadn’t she noticed?

The pain was numbing, making it feel as if she was constantly flat lining as insecurities pummeled her into the ground. She lost her job and had been singing at bars and clubs across London, living out of her car and wondering when life would pick up again.

Then one night he walked in, watching her as if her voice was breaking him down as it poured out from the speakers. She couldn’t help but blush, something about him just felt different. Men stared at her all the time, but with him… when their eyes locked that weight in her chest lifted and it felt like she could breathe again.

After her show was done she lingered, keeping him in her peripheral vision as she drank and waited for him to come and talk to her. A few times she’d catch him looking, but then he’d quickly turn away and start talking to his group of friends again.

Eventually it got too late, her eyes dry with exhaustion and the streets a little uneasy.

Part of her couldn’t let it go though, maybe he was just shy. But that feeling in her chest said to at least try.

So she walked up to him, watching as his eyes perked up and a blush redding his cheeks. She didn’t spare his friends a glance as she crossed her arms, “you’re an idiot.”

He blinked at her, also ignoring his friends as they laughed at him behind their hands. “Sorry?”

The stranger sounded Australian and her knees went a little weak. “I’ve been waiting for an hour for you to come up and talk to me but now I have to leave.”

He stammered over his words and she couldn’t help but smile as she dug into her jacket pocket and pulled out the bar napkin she had scribbled her number on. “Here, if courage finds you.” Dropping it in his lap, she sent him a wink before turning on his heels. Feeling a false sense of confidence but hoping something would bloom into fruition.

She had barely made it down the street when she heard him call out for her. Turning, she watched as he jogged up, napkin in hand. “Let me walk you home.”

Biting her lip, she looked away, slightly embarrassed. “That’s a little complicated.”

His brows furrowed, but before he could ask what she meant she clicked the key fob of her car and the lights of the beaten down four door parked on the side of the street lit up. He still looked a little confused so she shrugged, “makes for a short commute.”

Understating washed over him and he shook his head. “You are not sleeping in your car.”

“Then where do you suggest I sleep?” The question hung in the air as they stared at each other, the city traffic fading into white noise. His cologne wafted in the air, smelling like sea salt and sandalwood and she thought she could fall into an haze reminiscent of being doped up on opium.

He licked at his bottom lip as he considered her for a moment before holding out his hand, “I’m Oscar.”

Shaking it, his skin was rough and warm. Making a comforting shiver run a commotion on each of her nerve endings. “It’s very nice to meet you, but you haven’t answered my question.”

Maybe three martinis was too much because she was being much more bold than she was used to.

He didn’t hesitate. “Come back to my place.”

Maybe she hadn’t been in her right mind. Any normal person would have approached the offer with suspicion but from that night on the rest had been history.

He made her dinner and let her take his bed, a complete gentleman and when she woke up to the smell of coffee and burnt pancakes she knew she was done for.

Now there they were, both their careers taking off in ways that seemed like outlandish dreams.

However, she noticed as he shifted a bit on his feet and tugged at his sleeves. He was nervous, that much was obvious and she frowned. Oscar was used to being in the spotlight but perhaps what the stage director had suggested was a bit too much of a hard launch.

“You don’t have to do this, you know? It’s completely fine—“

“What? No, it’s not that.” He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her and she slotted into his hold easily. Nestling her head under his chin and wrapping her arms around him, letting the beat of his heart calm her. “Well, it’s a little bit of that but it’s just because I’ve never done anything like this before.”

She laughed lightly. “What? Never made out with someone in front of thousands of people?”

He hummed, “have to say it’s a first for me.”

Tilting her head back to look at him, she took in the way his eyes seemed to glow as he gazed down at her. She never felt any doubt with him. Complete and utter security in the form of another person felt like life had renewed itself.

“If you’re not comfortable doing it, then we won’t. I don’t want to push you.”

Oscar shook his head, brushing the hair out of her face before cupping the side of her head gently. “I want to.”

Lexi approached them then, clipboard in hand and a headpiece perched on her head. “They’re ready for you two on the platform. I’ll signal you when it’s time.”

The couple nodded and Oscar took her hand, giving it a comforting squeeze as they maneuvered their way under the stage to get onto the rising platform.

They stood on their marks facing each other, with each breath their chests brushed and as their eyes met they couldn’t help but laugh. This was probably one of the most ridiculous things they had never done.

Lexi came back up to them. “Okay so, rundown. You two are going at it, make it raunchy but y'know, PG-13. Wait a few seconds after the platform has locked into place and then act surprised by the crowd, like they caught you. And you, Mr. Piastri just… keep looking at her like you are now, that’s perfect.”

She turned, looking up at her boyfriend and taking note of the stars in his eyes.

“Positions!” Someone shouted, but neither paid much mind to the people around them anymore as she hiked up her leg around his waist, his hand falling down to cup her thigh while the other wrapped around her waist and tugged her flush against him.

His voice was low as they slowly started to rise, the crowd deafening as they realised the concert was about to start, not at all anticipating the surprise they were about to receive. “It’s just you and me.”

She nodded, her hands coming up to twine her fingers in his hair and pulling his face down to hers. “It’s just you and me.”

Their lips crashed against each other with urgency that never got old. The sensation of his mouth against her was mind numbing and addictive. His tongue slipped past her lips and explored her mouth like it was their first kiss all over again. Teeth clinked and fabric was tugged, trying desperately to get closer if possible. The feeling of the platform rising had faded into nothingness as she was consumed by him.

His hand hooked under knee to tug her hips right against him, his erection evident and a near moan left her at the feeling of it. His fingers digging into the flesh of her thigh through her trousers and her thin shirt doing little to tame the heat between them.

Oscar’s mouth trailed down from her mouth to her neck, tugging on her hair to give him more space. His tongue was hot and his teeth sharp and he licked and bit at her skin lightly. Both in so much delirium that they forgot for a moment they were being watched by an arena.

She snapped out of it, only barely and looked out into the crowd in a daze as a very real blush reddened her cheeks. She tugged on Oscar’s hair to pull his face away from her throat, but it only resulted in him groaning.

A laugh left her, completely breathless and only a tad embarrassed when he finally leaned back to look at her. He looked unkempt, his hair a mess and her lipstick smeared across his mouth.

To play up the act, she gasped as she caught sight of them on the jumbo screen and stepped back from him, though he kept one arm wrapped around her waist, he dropped her leg.

The screams and shouts were enough to bust someone’s ear drums as people looked on in shock at the sight of the world famous Formula One driver making out with their favorite singer on stage.

She wiggled out of his hold and walked briskly to the microphone a few feet away from them, looking bashful as she laughed awkwardly, the sound echoing around the arena. “I am so sorry. They sent me up earlier than I thought.”

The crowd went wild for it and she looked over her shoulder, winking at Oscar and the way he was looking at her like she was the only one there made her want to pounce back on him again.

She smiled warmly as he leaned against the piano that was on stage, then waved to the rest of her band, before turning back to the crowd. “I guess introductions are in order?” She asked, screams and roars following.

“I’m sure most of you know him, but this is my boyfriend. He decided to pop me a visit in between race weekends.”

The night was a daydream as it went by, Oscar watching her with heaven in his eyes as she sang her heart out.

Finally, the song that had kick started everything was next and she looked down at Oscar who had taken a seat on the bench of the piano. “This next one is called Good Looking, and although Oscar is stunning, no this isn’t about him.”

Laughs followed and Oscar smiled at her warmly, watching in adoration as the song started. The song she had sang all those years ago in the bar about her ex who had turned her life into a nightmare and he had known then and there he wanted to be in her life. He wanted to erase the heartbreak that painted itself on her features as the words poured out of her.

“The skyline falls as I try to make sense of it all.”

He watched as her body moved with music, entranced with the fluidity of her movements.

“I thought I’d uncovered your secrets, but turns out there’s more.”

He hadn’t looked at the audience once, not able to pull his eyes away from his girlfriend throughout the night. Oscar was sure his phone was blowing up with notifications and missed calls with the news, given absolutely no one knew.

“You adored me before. Oh, my good looking boy.”

The song ended and she bowed, her grin was a sight pulled straight from the bible and he knew he’d fall to his knees whenever she asked, ready to lay down complete surrender to get just a taste of the salvation she offered.

Oscar had been a little worried the night would be awkward with him just sitting there, but not a flicker of regret passed through him as he watched thousands of people shout their love for her and her work.

Not quite believing the stars had aligned so well for him. Not quite believing she was real and had chosen him, out of all people. Forever grateful she put trust in him not to break her heart and vice versa.

He hadn’t even realized he’d been smiling the whole night and watched as if an angel was approaching when she walked up to him, leaning down to kiss him.

Oscar knew he picked the right night, she was on top of the world and he wanted to keep that high going later when they got back to the hotel.

He had a ring box in his pocket he needed to take care of.

auroratheband

liked by landonorris, logansargeant, oscarpiastri and 829,039 others

auroratheband said yes to heaven last night, london you were beautiful

*tap to load more comments*

userone: WHAT

usertwo: WHO TF?? HOW TF?? AND THEY’RE ENGAGED HELLO????

landonorris: i’m sorry, what? osc answer your fucking phone

userthree: lando didn’t even know?? that is wild lmao

oscarpiastri: for the foul language your wedding invite has been revoked

userfour: apparently they’ve been dating for a few years, that hard launch had me losing my MIND

userfive: did you guys see how he was looking at her? MY HEART, he didn’t take his eyes off her once

usersix: I KNOW IM IN TEARS i cant wait for wedding pics

userseven: i need to see her in the paddock with the other wags immediately

tag list: @theonottsbxtch @fortunapre @ashbone @c8lap1nto @taasgirl @stopeatread @dying-inside-but-its-classy

[caplanbuckybarnes]

Heaven High (logan)

Summary: Logan tells you how much he adores you.

WC: 1K

Warnings: angst

A/N; there was a mistake that I placed this under a fluff. I was mistaking it with another Logan fic that I have in the works. I apologize.

Read on Ao3!

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The quiet hum of the hospital room buzzed in your ears, a dull contrast to the chaos roaring in your heart. You laid still, eyes half-lidded, body fragile and weak. The steady beeping of the heart monitor was the only sound marking time, but you didn’t need to hear it to know the truth. Time was running out.

Logan sat by your side, his calloused hand wrapped around yours. His thumb absently traced circles over your skin, a soothing rhythm he had adopted without thinking, like he was trying to will your heart to beat a little longer. He didn’t say much; he never did when the silence felt this heavy. But you knew he was there. He always was.

“Logan…” you whispered, your voice a raspy shadow of what it once was. The simple act of speaking felt like it took more energy than you had left.

He turned his head toward you instantly, his expression softening at the sound of your voice. The fierce intensity he carried everywhere, the weight of the world he seemed to bear on his shoulders, faded for a moment as his gaze met yours.

“Hey,” he said softly, leaning closer. His voice was gravelly, rough around the edges like everything about him, but there was warmth in it that only you ever really got to hear. “Don’t talk. Just rest.”

A weak smile tugged at the corners of your lips, but the effort was too much. “I don’t… have time to rest,” you murmured, your chest aching with the weight of what was coming. “Not anymore.”

Logan’s jaw clenched, the muscles in his face tightening as if he could physically stop the truth from sinking in. He had fought for you—God, how he had fought—but not even the Wolverine could win this battle. His healing factor couldn’t heal you.

“You don’t get to talk like that,” he growled, though there was no real anger behind his words. Just pain. The kind of pain he couldn’t fix, and it was tearing him apart. “You’re not done yet.”

You closed your eyes briefly, trying to summon the strength to push through, if only for him. The man who had been your rock, your shelter in the storm. The man who had loved you in ways he hadn’t thought he was capable of.

“I wish…” Your breath caught, and Logan immediately reached up, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle. “I wish I could stay longer. With you.”

He didn’t say anything at first, but his grip on your hand tightened ever so slightly, as if holding you a little closer would keep you from slipping away. His brows furrowed, the strain of holding it together evident in the tense line of his mouth.

“You’re not leavin’ me yet,” he said, his voice low, almost desperate. “I’m not lettin’ you go.”

A tear slid down your cheek, the weight of your reality settling between the two of you like a shadow you couldn’t escape. You had been through so much together—more battles than either of you could count, more heartache than most could endure. But this? This was the fight Logan couldn’t win.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, the words breaking your heart as much as his. “I’m sorry I can’t stay.”

Logan’s breath hitched, and for the first time since you had known him, you saw the crack in his armor. The Wolverine, unbreakable, unstoppable—shattered.

“Don’t say that,” he choked out, his hand trembling slightly as he cupped your face. “You don’t have to be sorry. You didn’t ask for this.”

You let out a soft, shaky breath, your hand reaching up weakly to cover his. His skin felt rough under your fingertips, but it was warm—comforting. You had always felt safe with him, even when the world around you had been anything but.

“I wish I could tell you… how much you’ve meant to me,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “How much I love you.”

Logan closed his eyes, his forehead pressing gently against yours. He stayed like that, silent for a moment, as if trying to memorize the feel of you, the sound of your breath, the warmth of your skin. When he pulled back, his eyes were glassy, filled with emotions he couldn’t contain any longer.

“You don’t have to tell me,” he murmured, his voice raw, breaking. “I know. I’ve always known.”

A soft smile tugged at your lips as you gazed up at him. Even now, even with the end so close, you couldn’t help but marvel at the way he looked at you—like you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

“Good,” you breathed, closing your eyes for a moment, feeling the exhaustion pulling at you. “Because I adore you, Logan. I hope… I hope the heavens know how much.”

Logan’s grip on your hand tightened, his thumb brushing over your knuckles like he could hold you there with him just a little longer. He looked away for a moment, as if he couldn’t bear to hear those words. But then he turned back, his voice a broken whisper as he leaned closer to you.

“They know,” he rasped, his lips brushing your temple. “And if they don’t… I’ll make sure they do.”

A tear slipped down his cheek, but you were too weak to wipe it away this time. You just stared up at him, your vision fading, but all you could see was him—the man who had been so much more than a hero to you. He had been your everything.

“Logan…”

“I’m right here, darlin’,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’m not goin’ anywhere. Not without you.”

You smiled weakly, your eyelids fluttering as the world grew dimmer. You wanted to say more, to tell him just how much he had saved you—how much his love had meant. But the words wouldn’t come. Your breath was shallow now, the end closer than ever.

Logan stayed there, holding you close, his own heart breaking as yours faltered.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. “More than I ever knew how to say.”

And as your eyes finally closed, you felt his lips press against your skin, his voice the last thing you heard before the darkness took you.

“I hope heaven knows how much I adore you too.”

[mononijikayu]

chasing heaven — geto suguru.

“You shouldn’t love me.” he finally said, his voice low, almost pained. “It’s unequal. I would taint your name, your reputation. You’re much younger than me, and you deserve someone who can offer you the future you deserve. I can’t… I’m not looking to marry, not now. I have my duties, my career—” “I don’t care about any of that.” you interrupted, your voice firmer now, driven by the strength of your feelings. “I don’t care about reputation or duty. I only care about you, about what we could have together. I want you to be with me, Suguru. Not as my brother’s general, but as the man I love.”

GENRE: alternate universe - sengoku jidai au!;

WARNING/S: angst, fluff, romance, love, age-gap (reader is in her early 20s, suguru is early 30s), hurt/comfort, nsfw, mild smut, falling in love, friendship, comfort, hurt, pregnancy, sexual intercourse, protectiveness, subsequent marriage, happy ending, depictions of misogyny, depiction of pregnancy, mention of parting, mention of war, mention of misogny, mention of children, mention of seppaku, satoru is an overprotective, loving brother, general-warrior! suguru!, lady gojo! reader;

WORD COUNT: 9k words

NOTE: some of this is a bit inspired by abelard and heloise, who are like one of the most interesting love depictions and intellectuals in history. and bit of the ending came from the outlaw king??? the meeting at the beach??? yeah, we got that in the temple. i wanted to keep this short, but it ended up getting longer and longer and i feel like you're sick of reading long fics. i'll try to do better next time~ anyway, i still hope you enjoy this. i love you!!! <3

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•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

YOU THOUGHT THIS DAY WOULD NEVER COME. But somehow, it has. In the quiet stillness of the temple, you had grown accustomed to the gentle rhythms of monastic life. The mornings began with the melodic chime of bells, the scent of incense filling the air as you joined the nuns in their prayers. Your world was small, contained within the temple walls, but it was peaceful—a safe haven amidst the chaos of a warring Japan.

But that peace you knew of, in this aloof mountain temple, was shattered the day your brother came.

You had always known of him, the brother who was more myth than man, a legend whispered among the nuns, among servants, among town’s folk who visited the temple. Gojo Satoru, the warrior fighting to bring the country out of disaster, was a name that carried weight even within these sacred walls.

He was the eldest, the one your mother had borne long before the war consumed the land. But you had never met him, had only the faintest memories of a mother who held you close before the temple became your home.

When the day arrived, you were summoned to the temple gate. The nuns had prepared you, dressing you in the finest robes the temple could offer, your hair carefully arranged as befitting the sister of a warrior. They had spoken in hushed tones, reminding you of your duty, of the homage you owed to the man who was your blood, your kin. But you felt a tremor of unease, an uncertainty that gnawed at the edges of your calm.

And then he appeared.

Tall, imposing, with a presence that seemed to command the very air around him, your brother was unlike anyone you had ever seen. His hair, stark white like the snow that capped the mountains, caught the light of the setting sun.

But it was his eyes that struck you most—eyes as clear and bright as the sky itself, filled with a depth that seemed to see through you, to the very core of your being. Just like your own. You had never found anyone that looked like you before. Somehow, you were not alone anymore.

For a moment, you stood frozen, uncertain how to greet him, this man who was both a stranger and your closest kin. But then he smiled, a smile that was warm and reassuring, and something in you eased.

"You’ve grown, little sister." Satoru said, his voice gentle, as though he feared to startle you. "I was worried I wouldn't recognize you. But I suppose….I suppose it would be normal, wouldn’t it? You and I have been apart long before you were born, little one.”

You found your voice, though it came out softer than you intended. "Brother…"

The word felt foreign on your tongue, a title you had never before spoken, but it also felt right, like a missing piece sliding into place. Satoru stepped closer, reaching out to place a hand on your shoulder. His touch was firm, but not unkind. 

"You will come and live with me now, hm?" he told you, his tone leaving no room for argument, but there was no harshness in it. Only certainty. “You will not be apart from me again.”

You nodded, the weight of your new reality settling over you. The life you had known, the only life you remembered, was ending. But this was your brother—your family—and though you did not know him, you knew that you owed him your loyalty, your respect.

"Yes, brother." you replied, lowering your gaze in deference.

Satoru squeezed your shoulder, his smile widening just a fraction. "Good. There’s much for us to do, but we’ll manage together, little sister.”

He turned, signaling to the men who had accompanied him, and they began to prepare for the journey. You looked back at the temple, at the nuns who had raised you, their faces serene yet tinged with sadness. They had known this day would come, had prepared you for it, but it was still a farewell, a parting of ways.

As you followed your brother, leaving the temple behind, you felt the weight of the future pressing upon you. You were no longer just the orphaned daughter raised by nuns. You were the sister of Gojo Satoru,  a daughter of the Gojo clan and that meant something in this world torn apart by war. 

And as you walked beside him, his presence a shield against the unknown, you felt a glimmer of hope that perhaps, in time, you would come to know this brother who had claimed you from the shadows of the temple.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

IT WAS A WHOLE NEW WORLD FOR YOU. But perhaps it was because you had not grown into the life that your brother had been consumed by for years. Yet you were not going to be left behind, that was a promise you made to yourself. You were going to catch up and serve your brother, as destiny had intended for you. 

It hadn’t taken long for you to prove your worth in the world your brother had thrust you into. From the moment you had joined Satoru's side, your intelligence shone like a beacon, drawing the attention of those who served him.

You were quick to grasp the intricacies of strategy, the delicate balance of politics, and the subtle art of diplomacy. Satoru, ever perceptive, saw in you the sharp mind that had been honed within the quiet confines of the temple, and he wasted no time in bringing you into his fold.

He did so without hesitation, without shame, despite the murmurs of discontent that rippled through his ranks. You were a woman in a man’s world, but Gojo Satoru was unbothered by such conventions. What mattered was that you were like him, a Gojo. And as such, you had the same power too. Perhaps it was why he trusted you more than anyone, and he made that trust clear by placing you at his side, seeking your counsel in matters great and small.

And so you sat with him, advising him openly in front of his men, your voice carrying the weight of his trust. You spoke with confidence, your mind as sharp as any blade, and Satoru listened, often nodding in agreement before issuing commands that bore your influence. It was a sight that unsettled some of his warriors—men hardened by battle, who found it difficult to reconcile the image of their fierce leader relying on the wisdom of a woman. 

But Satoru was adamant. “She is my sister, and I trust her above all.” he would say, and that was that. His word was law, and most of the men knew better than to question him. “Do not make light of my sister. A Gojo is a Gojo, regardless of sex. Do not dishonor me with your pitiful pride.”

However, the day came when your brother had to leave, called away by urgent matters elsewhere in the battlefield. He left you to lead his council in his absence, placing upon your shoulders a great responsibility. “They will listen to you, sister.” he assured you before he departed. “And if they don’t, remind them who you are.”

For a time, it seemed Satoru’s confidence in you was well-placed. You led the council with the same decisiveness and intelligence that had earned you your brother’s trust. Yet, despite your best efforts, there were those who could not look past your gender, who saw your presence at the head of the council as an affront to their honor.

The murmurs of discontent grew louder, the defiance more overt. They spoke over you, dismissed your ideas, and questioned your authority at every turn. It was subtle at first, but it quickly escalated into open disrespect. The council chamber, once a place where your voice had carried weight, became a battleground for your credibility.

You stood your ground, unyielding, but it became clear that your authority was being eroded with every passing day. The men who defied you believed that without your brother’s immediate presence, you could be undermined, your power stripped away.

It was during one of these tense council meetings, as the murmurs of dissent reached a fever pitch, that Geto Suguru intervened. Suguru, your brother’s general and most trusted right hand, had watched the unfolding situation with a quiet intensity.

He had always been a man of few words, but when he spoke, his voice commanded attention. That day, as you stood before a council of men who dared to challenge your authority, Suguru rose from his place, his expression one of stern resolve.

“Enough.”

The single word silenced the room, the weight of his presence alone enough to command respect. He stepped forward, his gaze sweeping across the gathered men, who now shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny.

“This woman,” Suguru began, his voice calm but edged with steel, “is not just anyone. She is Gojo Satoru’s only sister, and she speaks with his voice. Any defiance of her is a defiance of Satoru himself. And if there is a man among you who believes he can dishonor her without consequence, then he dishonors Gojo Satoru. Such a man should commit seppuku to preserve Satoru’s goodwill with him.”

The room fell into a heavy silence, the implications of Suguru’s words settling over the men like a shroud. You could see the way their expressions shifted, the bravado draining from their faces as the gravity of the situation became clear. To defy you now was not just to defy a woman—it was to defy the very man they served, the man who had led them through countless battles and brought them victories beyond measure.

Suguru’s eyes bore into each of them, leaving no room for doubt. “If there are any among you who wish to test this, step forward now.”

No one moved. The silence stretched on, thick with unspoken tension. Finally, one by one, the men lowered their heads, offering the respect they had withheld before. Suguru’s gaze softened as he turned to you, a subtle nod of reassurance in his eyes. You returned the nod, grateful for his intervention, knowing that his words had restored your authority where it had been threatened.

From that day forward, the council meetings proceeded with the respect you had earned, the respect that Suguru had demanded on your behalf. The men no longer questioned your place at the head of the table, for they knew that to do so was to challenge not just you, but Satoru himself.

And in those moments, as you continued to lead in your brother’s stead, you felt the strength of your bond with him, a bond forged not just by blood, but by the unwavering trust that had brought you to this place of power.

As the council meeting came to an end, the tension that had filled the chamber slowly dissipated. The men dispersed, their heads bowed in respect, a far cry from the defiance they had shown earlier. You remained seated, your hands resting on the table, the weight of the day’s events heavy on your shoulders.

Geto Suguru lingered behind, his presence a comforting anchor amidst the sea of uncertainty. He approached you quietly, his movements deliberate and calm, and as he drew closer, you found yourself exhaling a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

“Thank you, my lord.” you said softly, turning to face him. The gratitude in your voice was unmistakable. “Your words... they meant a great deal to me, my lord. I don’t know what I would have done without your support.”

Suguru met your gaze, his expression warm yet composed. “There’s no need to thank me, my lady.” he replied, his tone sincere. “What I did was nothing more than what was necessary. You are Satoru’s sister, and he is like a brother to me. By extension, you are family to me as well. I would do anything for the both of you.”

His words, so simply spoken yet filled with such conviction, touched something deep within you. The bond between Suguru and your brother was well known, but hearing him extend that sense of loyalty and kinship to you was both comforting and humbling. You had not had a true family before. The nuns were kind to you and treated you well. But they were not family. They never will be. BUt maybe, just maybe — Satoru and Suguru could be what family means to you. 

“Family…” you echoed, a small smile forming on your lips. “It’s strange to think how quickly that word has come to mean something so new and important in my life.”

Suguru nodded, his eyes holding a gentle understanding. “It’s a powerful thing, family. It binds us in ways that go beyond blood. And now, you’re part of that bond, just as much as anyone else.”

You looked at him, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at his words. For a moment, there was a comfortable silence between you, the kind that only existed when words had already said enough.

A thought crossed your mind, and you spoke before you could second-guess yourself. “Suguru… would you like to share dinner with me before you leave?”

The invitation was simple, but it carried a significance that you hoped he would understand. In this world of shifting alliances and uncertain loyalties, there was something to be said for breaking bread together, for sharing a moment of peace in the midst of so much chaos.

Suguru’s smile widened just a fraction, a rare softness in his usually stoic demeanor. “I would like that very much, my lady.”

The two of you made your way to the dining hall, where a modest meal had been prepared. The setting was humble, far removed from the grand feasts that often accompanied council gatherings, but it was welcoming in its simplicity. The table was set with warm rice, grilled fish, and a selection of seasonal vegetables, along with a pot of fragrant tea.

You took your seats across from each other, and as the first course was served, the tension of the day seemed to melt away. The conversation flowed easily, a mix of light banter and deeper reflection. Suguru spoke of the campaigns he and Satoru had led, the victories and the losses, and you shared your experiences of life in the temple, the wisdom imparted to you by the nuns who had raised you.

As the evening wore on, you found yourself laughing at a story Suguru told about Satoru—how your brother, for all his prowess on the battlefield, had an unfortunate habit of getting lost in the most mundane of places. The image of the great warrior wandering aimlessly in a village square, confused and exasperated, was enough to bring tears of mirth to your eyes.

Suguru chuckled, his own laughter low and warm. “He’d kill me if he knew I told you that, my lady.” he said, shaking his head. “But it’s true. Satoru may be brilliant, but even he has his moments.”

“I’ll keep your secret, my lord.” you promised, still smiling. “It’s good to know he’s human, after all.”

Suguru’s gaze softened, and for a moment, he simply looked at you, his expression thoughtful. “You’re a lot like him, you know?” he said quietly. “Not just in the way you think, but in the way you carry yourself. Satoru may not say it often, but I know he’s proud of you. You’ve come into this world with such strength and grace. It’s no wonder he trusts you so completely.”

His words struck a chord within you, and you felt a swell of emotion that you hadn’t expected. To be compared to your brother, to hear that he was proud of you… it meant more than you could put into words.

“Thank you, my lord Suguru.” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “That means a great deal to me.”

He nodded, and the two of you fell into a companionable silence, content to simply enjoy each other’s presence. The meal continued, and as the last of the dishes were cleared away, you felt a sense of calm settle over you—a feeling that, despite the challenges you faced, you were not alone.

When the evening finally drew to a close, Suguru stood, bowing his head slightly in a gesture of respect. “I should be on my way, my lady.” he said, though there was no rush in his voice. “But I want you to know, if you ever need anything, you can always call on me.”

“I will.” you replied, rising to see him off. “And thank you again, my lord Suguru. For everything.”

He smiled, a small, genuine smile that seemed to light up his features. “Take care, my lady. And remember—family sticks together.”

With that, he turned and made his way out into the night, leaving you with a sense of warmth and a newfound understanding of the ties that bound you to those around you. And you think to yourself that you wanted it to last for the rest of your lives.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

YOU THINK SATORU HAD LEFT SUGURU FOR YOU TO HAVE A FRIEND. Many days and weeks pushed on, but Geto Suguru made it a point to stay by your side.You think that Satoru was smart with such a thing, keeping his trusted sister and friend together. So far, it had worked like a wonder, keeping all the men in line. 

And Suguru had been gallant, in trying to appear for each and every session of the council. He knew all too well that in a world dominated by men, your authority could easily be questioned in Satoru’s absence, and he wasn’t about to let that happen.

With Suguru’s steady presence, the council meetings continued to run smoothly, the men now fully aware that any disrespect towards you would not be tolerated. His mere presence was enough to quell any lingering doubts or challenges, and in time, the council began to accept your leadership with the same respect they afforded Satoru. 

But it wasn’t just in the council chambers where Suguru’s support made a difference. Beyond the formalities of the politicking in the clan hierarchy, Geto Suguru became your intellectual companion, someone with whom you could share ideas freely. He did not once mock you for your interest in many things, in fact — he encouraged it, with every meeting, with every conversation, he indulged your wants.

The two of you spent countless hours long after council was over, engrossed in discussions that ranged from the teachings of the Buddha to the intricacies of clan politics.

Suguru had a way of making even the most complex topics seem approachable, and you relished every moment spent with him, whether it was delving into the nuances of the emperor’s court, debating the merits of various poems, or considering new ideas for education reform. His intellect challenged you, and you found yourself growing in ways you hadn’t expected.

One evening, as the council hall emptied and the candles flickered in the growing darkness, you lingered in your seat, knowing that Suguru would join you soon. When he did, he settled beside you with a thoughtful expression, his eyes filled with the calm intensity that had become so familiar to you.

"You’ve been quiet today." he remarked, his voice low and steady. "Is something on your mind?"

You glanced at him, feeling the weight of your thoughts but unsure how to express them. "I’ve been thinking about the future," you admitted. "About what happens after the war… after everything settles."

Suguru nodded, understanding your unspoken concerns. "It’s natural to wonder. But the future is not something we can control, only prepare for. And you’ve done more than anyone to prepare our clan for what’s to come."

His words were reassuring, but they didn’t dispel the unease that had settled in your heart. "I just… sometimes I wonder if all these preparations, all these plans, will truly lead to peace. Or if we’re simply paving the way for another conflict."

Suguru considered your words for a moment before replying. "Peace is always fragile. It requires constant vigilance and wisdom. But I believe that with the right leadership—your brother, and perhaps even you—peace can be more than just a fleeting moment. It can be a legacy."

His faith in you was unwavering, and it touched you deeply. "I hope you’re right," you said softly, your gaze dropping to the parchment on the table before you. "But sometimes, I feel like I’m just grasping at straws, trying to make sense of a world that’s constantly changing."

Suguru reached out, gently lifting your chin so that your eyes met his. "You’re doing more than that. You’re shaping that world, guiding it towards something better. And you’re not alone in this. I’m here, and I’ll continue to be here, to support you in any way I can."

His words sent a warmth through you, one that made your heart ache in the most bittersweet way. "Thank you, Suguru," you whispered. "For everything."

A small smile curved his lips, and he withdrew his hand, though his presence remained as steady as ever. "There’s nothing to thank me for. This is what I want to do, for you and for Satoru."

As the night deepened, your conversations continued, flowing from one topic to another with ease. And when Suguru was away, he would always write to you, his letters filled with the same thoughtful insights and challenges. Each letter pushed your boundaries, urging you to think more deeply, to see the world through different lenses.

One day, as you read through one of his letters, you found a passage that made you pause:

"The world is vast, and our understanding of it is limited by the walls we build around ourselves. But if we can break down those walls, if we can push beyond what we think we know, then perhaps we can find something truly extraordinary. It is you whose intelligence I hold dearest and in truth, the person who can do things that would change the world.”

You traced the words with your fingers, feeling the weight of them settle in your chest. Suguru’s challenges were never just intellectual exercises; they were a call to action, a reminder that the world was still full of possibilities, and that you had the power to shape it.

And so, you wrote back, your reply filled with your own questions, your own thoughts, eager to see how he would respond. The correspondence between you became a lifeline, a connection that sustained you both through the trials and tribulations of the war.

Suguru had always been a thoughtful man, deeply reflective and wise beyond his years. His understanding of the world was shaped by both his experiences on the battlefield and his deep respect for philosophical teachings. You found his insights fascinating, often finding yourself lost in the depth of your conversations, which ranged from the practical to the profound.

During those moments, Suguru couldn’t help but notice the way your eyes lit up when you spoke of something you were passionate about, the gentle curve of your smile when you made a point that resonated with him. He had always thought you were beautiful—anyone could see that—but it was your tenacity, your intelligence, and your gentleness that truly captivated him. 

You were unlike anyone he had ever met. In you, he saw a rare combination of strength and compassion, a mind that was as sharp as any blade and a heart that was kind and forgiving.

The way you navigated the complexities of your new life, balancing the demands of leadership with the grace and wisdom you had learned at the temple, left him in awe.

Yet, despite the growing admiration he felt for you, Suguru kept those feelings buried deep within. To him, you were someone beyond reach, not because of any external barriers but because of his own sense of unworthiness.

He was a warrior, a man forged in battle and bloodshed, while you were a beacon of light, someone who had been touched by the serenity of the Buddha’s teachings. In his mind, the distance between who you were and who he was could never be bridged.

There were moments when he caught himself lost in thought, watching you as you spoke with that quiet authority, your words shaping the course of decisions that would impact the lives of many.

In those moments, a part of him longed to reach out, to tell you how much he admired you, how much he cared. But he never did. He couldn’t. To him, you deserved someone who was your equal, someone who could match your intellect and your spirit in ways he believed he could never hope to.

So, he stayed by your side, offering his loyalty and his companionship, content to be whatever you needed him to be. He ensured that no one dared to disrespect you, not just because of his loyalty to your brother, but because of the deep respect he had for you as an individual. He became a constant presence in your life, a steady rock in a world that often seemed to shift beneath your feet.

And while you might have seen him as a trusted ally and friend, for Suguru, every moment spent in your company was a reminder of what he could never allow himself to hope for.

You were, in his eyes, someone too precious, too good for a man like him. And so he kept his feelings hidden, choosing instead to honor you in the only way he knew how—by standing by your side, protecting you, and cherishing every conversation, every shared idea, every moment of quiet companionship.

In this way, Suguru made himself an indispensable part of your life, not realizing that his quiet devotion, his unwavering support, and the way he truly saw you for who you were had already made him far more worthy than he could ever imagine.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

YOU WERE GLAD TO KNOW THAT SATORU WAS COMING HOME. The day your brother, Satoru, returned from the front was filled with anticipation. The courtyard was alive with the excited murmurs of those gathered to welcome him home, the air thick with the scent of incense and the rustle of fine silks as the crowd shifted in expectation. Your heartbeat a little faster, not just from the prospect of seeing your brother again, but from the knowledge that he would be pleased with the work you had done in his absence.

As Satoru arrived, tall and imposing in his armor, the crowd parted to allow him passage. His white hair gleamed in the sunlight, and despite the long months of battle, his step was as sure and confident as ever. His gaze swept over the gathered people, but it was your face he sought first. When his eyes found yours, a smile broke across his face, and he quickened his pace to reach you.

Without hesitation, he pulled you into a warm embrace, his laughter rich with relief and pride. "Dearest sister!" he greeted, his voice filled with affection, "I’m home."

You returned his embrace, feeling a wave of emotion at having him back safely. “Welcome home, brother!” you replied, your voice steady, though your heart swelled with joy. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

He pulled back to look at you, his eyes searching yours. “Thank you,” he said earnestly, “for all your hard work on my behalf. I knew I could trust you to lead in my stead, and you’ve done more than I could have ever asked.”

The warmth in his words settled deep within you, a validation of all that you had done in his absence. “I did only what was necessary.” you replied, though the gratitude in your voice was clear.

Satoru turned then, his gaze shifting to Suguru, who stood a respectful distance away. The moment their eyes met, Satoru’s expression softened further, a familiar tenderness evident between the two men.

“Suguru!” Satoru called out, beckoning him forward.

Suguru approached, bowing his head in respect before speaking. “Welcome home, Satoru. I’m glad to see you returned safely.”

Satoru’s smile broadened, and he clasped Suguru’s shoulder in a gesture of deep friendship. “Thank you, Suguru, for being a confidant to my sister during this time. I can’t tell you how much it means to me to know she wasn’t alone.”

Suguru shook his head, his expression as composed as ever. “It is nothing but a great duty to fulfill for my vassal lord and friend,” he said, his tone formal and deferential.

But Satoru frowned at that, his grip on Suguru’s shoulder tightening slightly. “Don’t be so formal with me, Suguru,” he chided, though his tone was light. “You know better than that. You’re more than just a vassal. You’re my brother in arms, my friend. And you’ve done more for me and my sister than I could ever repay.”

Suguru’s gaze flickered with something unreadable, but he quickly schooled his expression. “I appreciate your words, Satoru.” he replied quietly. “But my duty calls me back to the front. I must return soon.”

Satoru’s frown deepened, and he shook his head, refusing to let go of Suguru’s shoulder. “No, I won’t hear of it!” he insisted. “You’ve been at the front longer than anyone. You need rest, and I won’t have you running off the moment you’ve set foot here. Stay as long as you can. That’s an order.”

Suguru hesitated, clearly torn between his sense of duty and his loyalty to Satoru. But seeing the determination in your brother’s eyes, he finally nodded. “If that is your order, Satoru, then I will stay.”

“Good.” Satoru said, his tone firm but kind. “That’s settled then. You’ll stay here with us, and you’ll take the time you need to rest and recover. The front will still be there when you’re ready to return.”

As Suguru accepted the command, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief. Having Suguru stay, even for a little longer, was something you hadn’t realized you’d wanted until now. He had become an important part of your life in your brother’s absence, and the thought of him leaving so soon after Satoru’s return had left you with an unexpected emptiness.

Satoru, ever perceptive, caught the fleeting look on your face and smiled knowingly. “You see, sister?” he said, turning to you. “I’ve managed to keep our dear Suguru here for a little longer. We all need him here, not just on the battlefield.”

You smiled, grateful for Satoru’s understanding, and nodded. “Yes, we do. Thank you, brother.”

With the matter settled, the three of you made your way into the inner chambers, where preparations had been made for a private celebration of Satoru’s return. The atmosphere was light, filled with laughter and the shared relief of being together once more. As you sat together, the bonds of family and friendship felt stronger than ever, and for that moment, the weight of the world outside seemed to fade away.

As the weeks passed, you found yourself spending more and more time with Suguru. The bond between you deepened, the trust and respect that had grown in your brother's absence now blossoming into something more complex, something that you couldn’t quite name but felt deeply. Suguru was older, wiser, and had seen so much more of the world than you had, but there was a connection between you that transcended those differences. Slowly but surely, you realized that you were becoming enthralled by your feelings for him.

Despite the age difference, despite his steadfast focus on his career and his role as your brother’s most trusted general, you couldn’t help the way your heart quickened when you were near him. Suguru, ever the composed and duty-bound man, never gave any indication that he was aware of your feelings. He was kind, respectful, and treated you as an equal in your discussions, but there was always a certain distance, a formality that he maintained, even in the quiet moments you shared.

One evening, after the council had ended and the palace had settled into the calm of the night, you found yourself wandering through the lily gardens with Suguru. The moon was full, casting a soft, silvery light over the still waters of the pond and the delicate white lilies that floated on its surface.

The air was cool, a gentle breeze stirring the leaves of the nearby trees. It was a serene, almost otherworldly setting, perfect for the conversations you often found yourselves having under the cover of darkness.

As you walked side by side, your footsteps soft on the stone path, you spoke of the future. Of what might come after the war, when the battles were over, and the land was finally at peace. You talked of the things you wanted to do—small, simple things like traveling to the nearby villages, visiting the temples you had only heard of in stories, and seeing the world beyond the palace walls.

Suguru listened, his expression thoughtful as always, but there was a trace of something in his eyes that made your heart ache—a longing that mirrored your own, though he would never voice it.

But tonight, there was something more pressing on your mind, something that had been weighing on you ever since your brother had returned from the front. After a pause in your conversation, you gathered your courage and spoke, your voice soft yet firm. “Suguru… Satoru has begun to find a husband for me.”

Suguru stopped walking, turning to face you. His expression didn’t change, but you saw the subtle tension in his posture, the way his hands clenched slightly at his sides. “It’s what’s best, my lady.” he replied after a moment, his tone carefully neutral. “A marriage to form alliances would strengthen your brother’s position and secure your future.”

You shook your head, the words catching in your throat. “I don’t see it that way,” you admitted, your voice trembling with the emotions you could no longer contain. “Because… I’ve fallen in love with you, Suguru.”

For a moment, there was silence. The world around you seemed to still, the only sound the gentle rustling of the lilies in the breeze. Suguru’s expression didn’t change, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—surprise, perhaps, or maybe something deeper, something he had kept hidden for a long time.

“You shouldn’t love me.” he finally said, his voice low, almost pained. “It’s unequal. I would taint your name, your reputation. You’re much younger than me, and you deserve someone who can offer you the future you deserve. I can’t… I’m not looking to marry, not now. I have my duties, my career—”

“I don’t care about any of that.” you interrupted, your voice firmer now, driven by the strength of your feelings. “I don’t care about reputation or duty. I only care about you, about what we could have together. I want you to be with me, Suguru. Not as my brother’s general, but as the man I love.”

Suguru looked at you then, really looked at you, as if seeing you for the first time. There was a deep conflict in his eyes, a battle between his sense of duty and the emotions he had tried so hard to suppress. He took a step closer, and for a moment, you thought he might reach out to you, might take your hand or pull you into his arms. But he stopped himself, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

“I’m not worthy of you, my lady.” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m just a soldier, a man who has done terrible things in the name of duty. You deserve someone who can give you the life you’ve dreamed of, someone who can stand beside you in the light, not someone who is forever tainted by the darkness of war.”

Your heart ached at his words, at the pain you could hear beneath them. But you refused to accept them. “I don’t want someone else.” you said, taking a step closer to him, closing the distance between you. “I want you, Suguru. I don’t care about the past or what you think you deserve. I know who you are, and I love you for it. Please… don’t push me away.”

Suguru’s resolve seemed to falter then, his purple eyes closing as if trying to block out the reality of your words. He was silent for a long moment, the only sound the distant chirping of crickets and the soft rustle of the wind in the trees. When he finally spoke, his voice was raw with emotion. “I don’t want to hurt you, my lady.” he said, opening his eyes to meet yours. “But I’m afraid I already have.”

You shook your head, tears gathering in your eyes. “You haven’t, my lord.” you insisted. “But you will if you walk away from me now.”

Suguru looked at you, his expression filled with a sorrow that you hadn’t seen before. He took a deep breath, and when he spoke again, his voice was softer, resigned. “If I stay, if I allow myself to feel this way about you, it won’t be easy. There will be challenges, people who will try to tear us apart. Your brother might not even approve…”

“I don’t care, my lord….Suguru.” you said, stepping even closer, so that you were only a breath away from him. “I’ll face whatever comes if it means being with you.”

Suguru looked at you for a long moment, his purple eyes searching for yours, as if trying to find the strength to say what he needed to say. Finally, he reached out, his hand gently cupping your cheek. His touch was hesitant, as if he was afraid to break you, but you leaned into it, closing your eyes as you felt the warmth of his skin against yours.

“I wish I could be the man you deserve.” he murmured, his voice filled with a quiet despair. “But if you’re willing to take this risk, then I won’t let you face it alone.”

You opened your eyes, looking up at him with a mix of relief and determination. “I am willing, Suguru.” you said softly, your heart full of the love you had for him. “As long as you’re by my side.”

Suguru nodded, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek. “Then I’ll stay, for you.” he said, his voice firm with resolve. “And I’ll do everything I can to protect you, to make this work… even if it means defying everything I thought I knew.”

With those words, you knew that the bond between you had changed, deepened in ways that neither of you could have anticipated. The future was uncertain, the challenges ahead daunting, but for now, in the quiet of the lily garden under the moonlit sky, you had each other. And that, you knew, was more than enough.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

THE MORE YOU WERE TOGETHER, THE MORE YOU FELL FOR HIM. And along with the flow of time, the boundaries between you blurred until they disappeared entirely. What began as stolen moments in the lily gardens turned into lingering touches, soft words whispered in the dark, and eventually, the first tentative kiss. That kiss led to another, and then another, until you both could no longer deny the passion that had ignited between you.

Geto Suguru, ever the restrained and disciplined man, tried to keep his distance, to maintain the boundaries that he believed were necessary. But you could see the way he struggled, the way his resolve weakened whenever you were near. And you, in turn, found yourself growing more insatiable for him, drawn to his quiet strength, his intellect, and the gentleness that he showed only to you.

It wasn’t long before your relationship became intimate. The nights you spent together were filled with whispered confessions, tender caresses, and the kind of closeness that left you breathless, yearning for more. Each touch, each shared moment, only deepened the bond between you, until it became something undeniable, something that you couldn’t hide, even if you tried.

Suguru’s movements were rhythmic and deliberate, each thrust a testament to the intensity of his feelings. Your body responded instinctively, shivering under the persistent wave of pleasure that seemed to emanate from every part of him. The connection between you both was palpable, a perfect union of touch and desire that left you breathless and yearning.

As he pressed closer, the heat between you became almost unbearable. You could feel every inch of him, his length moving with a purposeful glide that seemed to match the cadence of your own heartbeats. His focus was unwavering, his gaze locked onto your expressions of bliss, as if he were memorizing each fleeting moment of your shared ecstasy.

Suguru’s lips were gentle yet insistent, trailing a path of fiery kisses along your skin. He started at your jawline, moving down to your neck, where his kisses became more fervent, brushing against the sensitive spots that made you moan uncontrollably. His touch was a mix of tenderness and passion, each kiss a silent declaration of his love.

The way his lips traveled over your shoulder blades and collarbone, down to your breasts, was both reverent and adoring. He seemed to savor every inch of you, each kiss a testament to his longing and his desire to make you feel cherished and adored. His breathing grew ragged, his desire for you as evident as the ardent affection in his kisses.

Suguru’s love was consuming, a powerful force that seemed to envelope you both in a cocoon of heat and intimacy. His movements were a dance of devotion, each motion and kiss an expression of his deep-seated love. He wanted to give you everything, to love you with a passion that knew no bounds, until either of you could bear the intensity any longer.

Suguru’s senses were overwhelmed by the intense heat enveloping him. Each time he pulled back, he felt the burning warmth of your inner flesh clinging to him, a tantalizing reminder of the connection you shared. The contrast between the cool air and the searing heat of your body created a heightened sense of urgency, making every moment even more electric.

He withdrew momentarily, the emptiness only intensifying his need to be reunited with you. His breath came in ragged bursts, a mixture of frustration and desire fueling his movements. When he finally pressed back into you, it was with a force that spoke of his longing and the sheer intensity of his passion.

Suguru’s hands gripped your hips firmly, guiding and angling them to better meet his thrusts. His movements were decisive and powerful, each push and pull a testament to his deep-seated desire. The rhythm he established was relentless, his member driving into you with a raw, unrestrained energy. Every thrust was accompanied by a shudder of pleasure, both from him and you, as the heat between you built to a fervent crescendo.

His focus was entirely on you, the way your body responded to him, the way you felt around him. The sound of your moans and the look of sheer pleasure on your face drove him to new heights, his need to be with you, to feel this connection, only growing stronger with each passing second.

But as much as you tried to keep your relationship a secret from your brother, it wasn’t long before the truth could no longer be hidden. The realization came with a sudden, undeniable clarity: you were pregnant. 

The days following that intense night were filled with a mix of excitement and anticipation. As you navigated through your routine, you began to notice subtle changes in your body. What started as a vague sense of nausea and fatigue soon became more pronounced, prompting you to a conclusion.

The morning understood what was going on, a whirlwind of emotions took over you. You stared at yourself and then your belly, your heart pounding in your chest. Fear and excitement warred within you as you grappled with the reality of your situation.

You were carrying Suguru’s child, a life born from the love that you shared, but also a secret that could change everything. You knew that your brother, Satoru, would not take the news lightly. He had always been protective of you, and this… this would be seen as a betrayal.

The day your brother discovered the truth was etched into your memory with vivid, painful clarity. You had dreaded this moment, knowing that the inevitable confrontation would come, but nothing could have fully prepared you for the storm that followed.

The atmosphere was thick with tension as you stood in the living room, your heart racing. Satoru stormed in, his eyes blazing with a mix of fury and hurt that made your stomach churn. His usually calm demeanor was shattered, replaced by an intensity that you had never seen before. He had sensed something was wrong for weeks, and the truth had hit him like a sledgehammer.

“Who is he?” Satoru’s voice was a harsh whisper, laced with a barely contained rage. His eyes locked onto you, his gaze piercing through you as if trying to unravel the truth hidden within your silence.

"Brother, please...."

“Who’s the father?” His demand echoed through the room, each word sharp and accusatory, slicing through the fragile veneer of your composure.

The weight of his anger was suffocating. You stood there, feeling small and vulnerable, your hands trembling at your sides. The emotional turmoil inside you was overwhelming, a tangled mess of guilt, fear, and sorrow. You wanted to explain, to find the right words to make him understand, but the sheer intensity of the moment left you paralyzed.

Suguru, who had been silently supporting you, stepped forward, his own face a mask of regret and determination. He had been waiting for this confrontation, knowing that it was his responsibility to face the consequences of their actions. With a deep breath, he took the weight of the situation onto his shoulders. 

“Satoru,” he began, his voice steady but tinged with a sorrowful undertone, “I’m the father.”

The revelation hung in the air, heavy and oppressive. Satoru’s expression shifted from anger to disbelief, and then to a deeper pain that seemed to cut through his very core. The anger that had once burned so fiercely now gave way to a profound sense of betrayal and heartbreak. His eyes, usually so full of warmth and understanding, were now clouded with tears that he fought to hold back.

Suguru’s admission was met with a silence that was almost unbearable. The tension in the room was palpable, each of you waiting for the other to break the silence. You could see the struggle in Satoru’s face as he tried to process the reality of the situation, the hurt and confusion evident in every line of his expression.

“I never thought...” Satoru’s voice faltered, his anger giving way to a raw, aching sadness. He looked between you and Suguru, his emotions a turbulent sea of conflicting feelings. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why keep this from me?”

Suguru’s gaze was steady, but his heart was breaking as he met Satoru’s eyes. “I didn’t want to hurt you, Satoru.” he said softly. “But I know that’s no excuse. I’m sorry.”

“You do not have to worry.” Suguru said, his voice steady despite the tension in the air. He met Satoru’s gaze head-on, not flinching even as the anger in your brother’s eyes intensified. “It was not planned….But I take full responsibility, Satoru. Please.”

Satoru’s reaction was immediate and explosive. “You’re supposed to be my most trusted general, my friend, and you… you’ve done this? With my sister? And you didn’t marry her?”

Suguru’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t back down. “I never intended to disrespect you or your family. I care for her deeply, and I will do what is right.”

The words only seemed to fuel Satoru’s rage. “You should have done what was right from the start! How could you let this happen, Suguru? How could you—”

“I didn’t need to marry him.” you interrupted, your voice shaking as you tried to step between them, to defuse the situation before it spiraled out of control. “I love him, Satoru. We love each other, and I don’t need a marriage to prove that.”

But your words only seemed to make things worse. Satoru turned to you, his expression a mix of frustration and disbelief. “You don’t understand what this means, how it looks. If you’re with child and not married, it could ruin everything. Our alliances, our reputation—everything we’ve fought for…..”

Suguru placed a hand on your shoulder, his touch grounding you even as the storm of emotions swirled around you. “I will marry her, Satoru.” he said firmly, his voice calm but resolute. “You don’t have to worry about shame. We will marry and no one will know.”

Satoru stared at Suguru for a long moment, his chest rising and falling with the force of his emotions. It was clear that he was torn, caught between his duty to his family and his loyalty to Suguru. Finally, he let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair.

“I have no other choice about this.” he said, his voice heavy with resignation. “If you’re going to marry her, then you need to do it soon. We’ll make the arrangements, and you’ll stand before everyone and make this right.”

Suguru nodded, his grip on your shoulder tightening slightly as if to reassure you. “I will. You have my word.”

You looked up at Suguru, your heart full of a mixture of love, relief, and anxiety for what lay ahead. This wasn’t how you had imagined things would unfold, but you knew that as long as you had him by your side, you could face whatever challenges came your way. And so, with a heavy but hopeful heart, you took a deep breath and prepared to face the future together.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

YOU NEVER EXPECTED ALL OF THIS, BUT LIFE IS STRANGE. And perhaps you were now more resigned to it than ever before. The day of your wedding to Suguru was both solemn and beautiful, a ceremony that cemented not only your love but also your shared commitment to the future.

Despite the circumstances that led to it, the vows you exchanged were heartfelt, and as you stood beside him, you felt a deep sense of belonging, knowing that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together.

Suguru remained by your side through the remainder of your pregnancy, refusing to leave even as the war called to him. He was there for every moment, every kick, and every anxious night as you awaited the arrival of your children. When the day finally came, and you bore twin daughters, his joy was immeasurable. He held you close, kissed your forehead, and whispered his gratitude for the family you had given him.

The day Suguru had to return to the battlefield was a poignant reminder of the harsh realities that overshadowed your time together. As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the room, the reality of his departure loomed heavily over both of you. The weight of impending separation was unbearable, each moment stretching painfully as the hour of his departure drew nearer.

You found yourself clinging to him, your grip firm yet trembling, as tears streamed down your cheeks. Every part of you ached with the fear and sadness of watching him leave for another dangerous mission. His presence had become your sanctuary, and the thought of him stepping back into the chaos of war was almost too much to bear. Your sobs were muffled against his chest, the fabric of his uniform a stark reminder of the danger he faced.

Suguru’s hands were gentle as he reached up to wipe away your tears. His touch was tender, yet firm, as if he were trying to transfer some of his strength to you. His own eyes were filled with a sorrowful resolve, the weight of the duty he was about to undertake clear in every line of his face. Despite his bravery and determination, it was evident that leaving you behind was a painful sacrifice.

As he held you, his gaze shifted to the cot where your daughters, Mimiko and Nanako, slept peacefully. Their innocent faces were serene, their small bodies rising and falling with the rhythm of sleep. Suguru’s heart ached at the sight of them, his love for them and the desire to protect them a palpable force. His eyes lingered on them, a silent vow passing between him and their slumbering forms—a promise to return safely, to be there for them and you.

"I don’t want to leave you." he murmured, his voice thick with emotion as he held you close, feeling the warmth of your daughters swaddled in his arms. “All three of you.”

"I know that." you whispered back, your voice breaking. "But you must. For Satoru, for our peace… But promise me, Suguru, that you'll take care of my brother. Bring him back to us. And…And come back to us too. Please."

"I promise, my love." he vowed, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside him. "I will protect him with my life, just as I will protect our family. I will come back to you, I swear."

The parting was an agonizing ordeal, each moment stretching into an eternity as you watched Suguru ride away. With your daughters, Mimiko and Nanako, nestled in your arms, you felt the weight of the world press heavily upon your heart. The sight of him disappearing into the distance, framed by the setting sun, was a poignant reminder of the uncertainty that lay ahead. As the last glimpse of him vanished, you could only hold your children tighter, whispering prayers for his safety and for a swift end to the unrelenting war.

Days turned into months, and months into years, each passing moment a relentless reminder of the ongoing conflict. The once-familiar rhythm of life had been disrupted, replaced by an enduring wait for peace. The world outside was fraught with turmoil, but within the sanctuary of the temple where your journey with Suguru had begun, you found a semblance of tranquility.

Returning to the temple was a return to roots, a place of peace amidst the chaos of the world. It was where you had first found solace and a sense of purpose alongside Suguru, and now it became a refuge for you and your daughters. The temple's serene environment provided a safe haven where you could nurture them, shielding them from the harsh realities of the outside world. 

Every corner of the temple held echoes of the past—memories of quiet moments shared with Suguru, of dreams and plans woven together in the tranquil surroundings. It was a place that had once symbolized new beginnings, and now it served as a testament to endurance and hope.

As you raised your daughters in this sanctuary, you immersed yourself in the rhythms of temple life, finding comfort in its routines and in the community that embraced you. You taught them the values and lessons that had been so important to you and Suguru, hoping to instill in them the same strength and resilience that had guided you through these challenging years.

The temple, with its tranquil gardens and reverent halls, became a living monument to your waiting, a symbol of the enduring love that bound you to Suguru. Every day was a step closer to the dream of seeing the land united and your husband safely returned to you. Until that day came, you held onto the hope that peace would prevail and that your family would be whole once more.

In the stillness of the temple, surrounded by the quiet hum of prayer and the gentle presence of your daughters, you found a sense of purpose and patience. Your love for Suguru remained a guiding light, illuminating the path through the darkness of uncertainty and keeping the promise of reunion alive in your heart.

Years passed, and news of the Gojo clan's victory spread across the land and peace was finally achieved. The land was finally unified, and the long years of war had come to an end. You clung to the hope that with this victory, Your Suguru would return to you, that the promise he made would finally be fulfilled.

And then, one day, as you stood at the steps of the temple, you saw him. Geto Suguru, looking weary yet strong, with the weight of years and battle etched into his features. He stood there, gazing at you with eyes full of longing and love, and you felt your heart leap in your chest.

Without hesitation, you ran to him, your daughters' voices calling after you, but you couldn’t stop. The world seemed to blur around you as you crossed the distance between you and the man you had been waiting for all these years. When you finally reached him, you threw yourself into his arms, holding him as tightly as you could, as if to make up for all the time you had spent apart.

"Welcome home, my love." you whispered, your voice thick with tears, your face buried in his chest. The scent of him, the feel of his arms around you, it was all so familiar, so comforting, that it felt like a dream.

Suguru held you close, his embrace fierce and full of the love he had carried with him through every battle, every hardship. "I’m home, my dear." he murmured into your hair, his voice choking with emotion. "I’m finally home."

Your daughters, now old enough to understand the significance of the moment, stood a little ways off, watching with wide eyes as their father returned to them. You turned to them, beckoning them forward, and they ran to join the embrace, their laughter and tears mingling with your own.

[connorsui]

The Faint Glimmers of Yesterday

Dabi x reader (main), Shoto x reader (platonic relationship)

genre/ warnings: Angst, straight up depression, Imprisonment, rough kiss, small moments of fluff in between (ur memories are making u cry harder  synopsis : After the war, Touya,  is captured by the government and faces trial for his crimes. His girlfriend  who has stood by him through everything, is left to grapple with the reality of his conviction. As she fights through the cruel media, the judgment of the world, and her own broken heart, she clings to the memories of their time together,  Note: I wanted convicted dabi …i blame pinterest for this …mommaaaaa im in loveeeeee with a criminaaaalllllllll

VIP: @greenmanshoe

w.c: 5.4K

The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from the streetlamp outside the window that cast long shadows across the bed. You lay beside him, your head resting on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. It was a comforting sound, strong and reassuring, each beat a promise that he was still here with you, if only for a little while longer. His chest rose and fell in a slow, rhythmic cadence, grounding you in the present moment as you tried to savor every second.

His voice, when he spoke, was low and gravelly, like the distant roll of thunder. It resonated through you, wrapping around you like a protective embrace, carrying a depth of emotion that he rarely allowed himself to show. The scent of him was intoxicating—a mix of smoky wood, like charred cedar, and the sharp tang of his cologne, with an underlying warmth that was distinctly him. It was a scent that clung to the air around you, a constant reminder of his presence, even when he wasn’t there.

Touya’s  arm was draped lazily over your shoulders, his fingers idly tracing circles on your bare skin. The silence between you was heavy, filled with the unspoken tension of what was to come. You knew where he was going, what he was planning to do, and the thought of it made your heart ache.

“Do you really have to go?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, afraid that speaking any louder would shatter the fragile peace you’d found in this moment. You wanted to hold onto it, to hold onto him, for as long as you could.

Touya didn’t answer right away. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, gazing down at you with those intense, piercing blue eyes that had first drawn you to him. He was beautiful in a way that was almost dangerous, all sharp edges and raw power, but to you, he was everything.

“You know I will…even if ill rather be here,” he finally replied, his voice low and rough, like gravel beneath your fingertips.

“But you don’t have to,” you insisted, your fingers clutching at his shirt, trying to keep him close. “You know that, right? We can—”

He cut you off, pulling you tighter against his chest, his hand moving to cradle the back of your head. His lips pressed to your forehead, then your cheeks, each kiss soft and lingering, as if he was trying to memorize the feel of you.

“Baby… baby, listen to me,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. “Even if I had gone with you to the heavens above, I would have still found a way to rain hell upon that man.” There was a dark, fierce determination in his voice, one that sent a shiver down your spine.

“I Just- …you know how I feel about all of this …its difficult to come to terms with it” 

“I know…and I’m sorry” 

You closed your eyes, trying to savor the feel of him, the sound of his voice, the way his body felt against yours. You wanted to remember everything—his laugh, his smile, the way his hair felt when you ran your fingers through it. The memory of helping him dye his hair black flashed through your mind, and a bittersweet smile tugged at your lips.

You could still remember the way he’d sat on the floor, legs stretched out, while you carefully applied the dye, trying to get every strand just right.

“Careful, babe,” he’d teased, his voice lighter than usual, a rare playful note threading through it. “Don’t want to end up with half my hair still white. Unless that’s your way of saying you like me better that way?”

You’d laughed, shaking your head as you tried to concentrate. “No way. You’d look like a half-done project. We’re going all in, Touya, no shortcuts.”

He’d smirked at that, leaning back a little, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief. “All in, huh? I like the sound of that. But you sure you’re not just looking for an excuse to touch me?”

You’d felt your face heat up at his teasing, and before you could respond, he’d leaned forward, closing the distance between you, his lips hovering just above yours. “Come on, don’t leave me hanging,” he’d murmured, his breath warm against your lips. “A kiss for your man?”

You’d giggled, trying to focus on the task at hand, but he was too close, too tempting. The dye on your fingers was forgotten as you leaned in, brushing your lips against his in a soft, lingering kiss. He’d tasted like mint and something darker, something that was purely him, and you’d melted into him, laughing against his mouth as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his lap.

“I think you’re more dye than human now,” you’d teased, pulling back slightly to see the smudges of black dye on his face and hands.

He’d chuckled, a sound that was rare but so precious to you, and he’d wiped a smudge off your cheek with his thumb. “Well, if that’s the price I have to pay to get you this close, I’ll take it.”

The two of you had spent the rest of the evening in fits of laughter, trying to clean up the mess you’d made, but neither of you really cared. It was one of those moments where the world outside didn’t matter, where it was just you and him, caught up in each other, in the simplicity of being together.

As you lay on his chest, savoring every second of the fleeting peace, you felt the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek. The warmth of his body, the scent of his cologne, the low rumble of his voice—it was all so familiar, so comforting, and yet there was an undercurrent of sadness in every beat, every breath. The reality of what was to come weighed heavily on both of you, a silent tension that neither of you wanted to acknowledge. But the future was inevitable, looming over you like a dark cloud, threatening to tear apart the fragile moment of tranquility you’d created together.

You closed your eyes, letting the memory of your time with him wash over you, holding onto the feeling of his arms wrapped around you, the softness of his lips against your forehead. You wanted to believe that this moment could last forever, that you could somehow hold onto him and keep him safe, but deep down, you knew that was just a dream—a dream that was slipping through your fingers like sand.

As sleep began to take you, your breathing slowed to match his, the rise and fall of your chest syncing with the steady rhythm of his. The world around you started to fade, the edges of your consciousness blurring until there was nothing left but the sound of his heartbeat, growing fainter with each passing second.

And then, just like that, the warmth was gone. The scent of him, the comforting sound of his heartbeat, the soft feel of his skin against yours—all of it vanished, leaving behind a cold, empty void.

Touya blinked, disoriented, as the familiar warmth of the bed was replaced by the harsh, unyielding concrete of a holding cell. The dim light of the streetlamp outside your window was gone, replaced by the cold, fluorescent glare of a single overhead light. The comforting scent of his cologne was replaced by the acrid smell of cigarette smoke and the musty air of confinement.

Touya sat alone in the cell, his back against the wall, the orange jumpsuit stark against his pale and damaged skin. His head was bowed, small strands of black hair to his white falling into his eyes as he took a long drag from the cigarette between his fingers. The smoke curled lazily around him, the faint glow of the cigarette the only warmth in the room.

But even in this cold, lonely place, the memory of you lingered, a small, precious light in the darkness. As he exhaled, the smoke seemed to carry your scent with it, mingling with the stale air of the cell and bringing with it a wave of bittersweet memories. Your laughter, your smile, the way your eyes sparkled when you teased him—all of it flooded his mind, momentarily pushing away the cold reality of where he was. 

He tilted his head back, resting it against the wall as he closed his eyes, letting the memories of you take over. The feel of your fingers in his hair, the sound of your voice as you called his name, the way you’d looked at him with those soft, understanding eyes—it all played out in his mind like a movie, a vivid reminder of what he was fighting for, of why he had to keep going, even when everything else seemed hopeless.

But as much as he wanted to hold onto those memories, the cold reality of his situation refused to be ignored. The cuffs around his wrists dug into his skin, the rough fabric of the jumpsuit chafing against his bruised body. The cigarette burned down to the filter, the last ember glowing faintly before it, too, was extinguished, leaving nothing but a bitter taste in his mouth.

Touya opened his eyes, the weight of his thoughts settling heavily on his shoulders. The oppressive silence of the cell was a stark contrast to the warmth and comfort of the memories that had filled his mind moments before. The harsh fluorescent light above seemed to mock him, a reminder of the distance between the past and his present confinement.

He shifted uncomfortably, the heavy cuffs around his wrists clicking faintly as he adjusted his position. The cold concrete pressed against his back, and the musty air was thick with the lingering scent of cigarettes and old sweat. Each breath he took was a reminder of how far he was from the moments of tenderness and intimacy that had just been vivid in his thoughts.

Touya’s mind drifted back to the way your eyes had softened when you looked at him, the warmth of your laughter that had seemed to fill the room. He could almost feel the softness of your touch, the way your fingers had intertwined with his, and the way your presence had made everything feel just a little bit brighter.

But that brightness was now overshadowed by the grim reality of his situation. He longed to escape the confines of the cell, to feel the warmth of your embrace again, to hear your laughter and feel the gentle pressure of your lips against his. The stark contrast between the memory and the reality was almost unbearable, making the pain of separation feel even sharper.

He took another drag from the cigarette, the smoke swirling around him, mixing with the bitter taste of his own despair. The cigarette burned down to its final embers, and he flicked it away, the small glow disappearing into the darkness of the cell. The emptiness left in its wake seemed to mirror the void he felt inside, a gaping chasm where your presence used to be.

As the distant clamor of footsteps and voices echoed through the corridors, Touya’s mind was pulled back once again to the present. The sound seemed to serve as a cruel reminder of the separation between him and the person who had become his lifeline. The heavy cuffs around his wrists and the rough fabric of the orange jumpsuit were harsh reminders of the distance between the warmth of his memories and his current confinement.

He knew that the days ahead would be tough, that the reality of his situation would not change anytime soon. But in his heart, he carried the memory of you with him, a precious treasure that he clung to in the face of adversity. And though the cell was a harsh and unforgiving place, the thought of seeing you again, of holding you close and feeling your warmth, was a beacon of hope that guided him through the darkness.

Meanwhile, in the car parked just outside the courthouse, you were enveloped in an atmosphere of tense anticipation. The memory of Dabi's warmth clung to you, a bittersweet comfort in the face of the looming confrontation. Shoto's presence beside you was a grounding force, his quiet strength a stark contrast to the chaos that awaited you outside.

The sound of reporters' voices grew louder, mingling with the rhythm of your anxious heartbeat. As you sat there, holding onto the memories of Dabi's embrace, the car's interior seemed to offer a fleeting sanctuary from the storm outside. But the reality of the situation was about to break through the bubble of tranquility you had tried to maintain.

Shoto turned to you, his expression softening with concern. “We don’t have to go in,” he said quietly, his voice gentle yet resolute. “You can stay here. It’s not too late to turn back.”

You shook your head, your voice trembling with determination. “I have to go. I’ve stood by him through everything. Leaving now… it would be like abandoning him when he needs me the most.”

Shoto’s gaze softened, and he nodded in understanding. “I’ll be with you every step of the way. You’re not alone in this.”

With a final, deep breath, you prepared to step out of the car. The echo of your own heartbeat seemed to match the pounding of Dabi's heartbeat you remembered from your last moment together. Shoto’s supportive grip on your hand anchored you, offering a semblance of stability as you faced the reality of the courthouse steps.

You opened the car door, and the swarm of reporters and the harsh reality of what was to come loomed ahead. Their cameras flashed like vultures, and their questions cut through the air with relentless sharpness.

“Is it true you’re in a relationship with Todoroki Touya?” “How does it feel to be in love with a villain?” “Do you think he deserves to go to prison for life?” — “Do you feel any kind of guilt for the people he murdered?” 

You could feel their eyes on you, judging, condemning, trying to tear you down. It took everything in you not to crumble under the weight of their scrutiny. But before you could respond, Shoto was there, pushing them back with a fierce protectiveness that contrasted with his usual calm demeanor.

“Step back,” he ordered, his voice cold and commanding. “Give her some space.”

He placed a reassuring hand on your back, guiding you through the throng of reporters, shielding you from their relentless onslaught as best as he could. Each step you took toward the courthouse felt like a battle against the rising tide of anxiety and doubt, but Shoto’s presence was a constant, calming force.

Inside the courthouse, the atmosphere shifted to a sterile, oppressive silence. The white walls and harsh lighting felt like a stark contrast to the warmth of the memories you held dear. Shoto guided you to your seat, his hand lingering on your back for a moment longer, a silent promise of unwavering support.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves as you focused on the front of the room. The judge entered, and the proceedings began, each word echoing through the courtroom like a relentless hammer.

The doors at the far end of the courtroom creaked open, and your heart skipped a beat as Touya was led in, shackled and clad in the orange jumpsuit that marked his new reality. His gaze met yours briefly, a fleeting moment of connection that spoke volumes despite the distance.

In that moment, amidst the harsh, unfeeling gaze of the courtroom and the cacophony of legal proceedings, you knew that your love for Touya was unwavering. No matter how harsh the world was or how dark the days became, you would face it all with him, holding onto the memory of the warmth and affection you had shared. And though the future was uncertain and fraught with challenges, your commitment to him remained steadfast, a beacon of hope amidst the shadows.

The courtroom was an unforgiving place, a stark expanse of white walls and cold, clinical decor that seemed to sap the warmth from the room. The air was thick with an almost palpable tension, a pressure that made it difficult to breathe, let alone think. Each tick of the clock on the wall seemed to stretch into eternity, magnifying the anxiety that churned in your chest. You sat in the front row, your gaze fixed on the front of the room, trying to steel yourself for the inevitable. The hardwood benches felt uncomfortably hard beneath you, a physical reminder of the harsh reality you were about to face.

The room's cold precision only served to highlight the gravity of the moment. The judge’s robe rustled as they took their seat, and the rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall seemed to stretch each second into an eternity. Every detail of the room—the sterile whiteness of the walls, the clinical brightness of the overhead lights, and the stern faces of the people around you—was etched into your mind, magnifying your anxiety. You could hear the distant murmur of conversations, the shuffling of feet, and the occasional clink of metal as the guards adjusted Touya’s restraints. The growing dread in your stomach coiled tighter with each passing second, making it hard to focus on anything but the impending moment of devastation.

When the judge’s voice cut through the room with chilling authority, announcing the sentence of “Life in maximum security,” it felt as if the very ground beneath you had shattered. The finality of the words hit you with brutal force, an unyielding grip of despair that seemed to squeeze the air from your lungs. The courtroom fell into a heavy silence, the verdict hanging in the air like a dark cloud. Dabi’s shoulders sagged under the weight of his sentence, his usually defiant posture giving way to a crushing resignation that you could see from where you sat. His face, once a mask of fierce rebellion, now reflected a profound anguish that mirrored your own.

The guards began to move, preparing to escort him out of the room with mechanical efficiency. Time itself seemed to slow, each tick of the clock stretching into an eternity as the shackles clinked in a cruel metronome, marking the end of your last moments together. The metallic sound echoed through the courtroom, mingling with the murmurs of the crowd and the relentless clicking of cameras. The cold, unfeeling reality of the situation pressed in on you, each second a reminder of the brutal separation that was about to occur.

Driven by an overpowering need to be close to him, you stood up, your legs feeling like lead as you moved forward. The courtroom seemed to blur around you, the faces of the onlookers and the flashes of cameras fading into insignificance. The guards hesitated as you approached, their stern faces softened by a flicker of uncertainty. Touya’s gaze, however, never wavered from yours. There was an unspoken plea in his eyes, a desperate hope that you could somehow alter this cruel fate.

When you finally reached him, Touya’s cuffed hands reached out, trembling slightly as they grasped your waist. The cold metal of the cuffs pressed harshly against your back, a stark reminder of the reality that separated you. He pulled you close, his breath mingling with yours as his lips captured yours in a kiss that was both urgent and desperate. The kiss was a frantic outpouring of all the words and emotions he could no longer express, a silent scream against the cruel fate that had befallen him.

The world around you—the whispers of the courtroom, the flash of cameras, the distant murmur of voices—faded into insignificance. All that mattered was the intense connection between you, the desperate way his lips moved against yours, and the raw need to hold onto this fleeting moment of intimacy. His kiss was a tumultuous mix of longing and regret, his rough lips pressing against yours with a force that was almost bruising. The taste of him—smoke, fire, and something distinctly Dabi—flooded your senses, making your head spin.

You could feel the cold metal of his cuffs digging into your skin, a painful reminder of the distance that now lay between you. His hands trembled as they gripped the sides of your face, the clinking of the cuffs a soft, sorrowful counterpoint to the fevered intensity of the kiss. He pulled you closer, as if he could lose himself in you, merge with you, and escape the harsh reality that had torn you apart. His tongue tangled with yours in a desperate dance, each movement a blend of hunger and heartbreak.

As the guards began to pull him away, Touya’s grip tightened with a fierce, almost desperate intensity. His eyes locked onto yours, burning with a raw, unfiltered emotion that made your heart ache. The distance between you grew, each step he took toward the exit a knife twisting in your heart.

“You deserve better, you know that right?” he whispered against your lips, his voice cracking with the weight of his despair. His words were almost inaudible, but you could hear the deep sorrow and regret in his tone, a desperate cry for help that you could do nothing to answer.

“I love you!” you shouted, your voice breaking as you tried to cling to the last remnants of this moment. The words were a lifeline, a final declaration of the love you both shared. The look of agony on his face as he was torn away from you was almost more than you could bear, the sadness etched into every feature a mirror of your own.

Touya looked back at you, his gaze a mixture of fierce love and unbearable sadness. “I love you too,” he rasped, his voice rough and laden with emotion. 

As the guards dragged him away, his gaze remained fixed on you, a burning intensity in his eyes that spoke of the depth of his feelings. The last thing you saw before the doors closed was the look in his eyes—raw, unfiltered emotion that mirrored your own. The courtroom’s harsh reality settled around you, but all you could focus on was the echo of his voice and the fading warmth of his kiss. You stood there, your lips still tingling from the intensity of his kiss, your heart aching with the depth of your loss.

As the crowd slowly dissipated and the room began to empty, you remained rooted to the spot, tears streaming down your face. The overwhelming silence of the courtroom was a cruel echo of the love you had just lost, a constant reminder of the emptiness left by his absence. Each step you took toward the exit felt like a mile, each breath you took a struggle against the crushing weight of your grief. The world outside seemed distant and surreal, a stark contrast to the emotional storm that raged within you.

Shoto was at your side in an instant, his hand firmly resting on your shoulder as he gently guided you away from the courtroom. The corridor outside was a chaotic swirl of reporters, their questions and flashes of cameras relentless in their pursuit. The cacophony of voices seemed distant, almost surreal, as if you were submerged in a sea of white noise. Your mind was numb, trapped in the echo of Dabi’s final moments, and the world beyond that room felt hollow and unrecognizable.

“Miss, how do you feel about Todoroki Touya’s sentence?”

“Why do you keep avoiding us? — are you standing beside him?”

“Was your relationship with Todoroki Touya really as deep as they say?”

Each question pierced through you like an arrow, the sharp barbs of their curiosity aggravating the raw wound in your heart. The name Todoroki Touya, the name you had clung to in the silence of your love, now felt like a dagger twisting in your chest.

Shoto moved with a protective fierceness, his usually composed demeanor cracking under the strain of the moment. “Back off!” he shouted, his voice cracking with the force of his command. “All of you back off!”

Despite his efforts, the throng of reporters pressed in, their intrusive questions a relentless assault on your already fragile state. The weight of their scrutiny felt suffocating, each question a fresh cut to the wound left by Touya’s departure. Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision and making it hard to breathe through the rising tide of panic and despair.

Shoto’s concern was immediate and palpable. His arm wrapped around your shoulders, guiding you swiftly toward the waiting car. “Come on, let’s get out of here,” he said softly, his voice steady but laced with a deep concern that mirrored the ache in your own heart.

The moment the car door closed behind you, you collapsed into the seat, your chest heaving with the effort to keep your sobs contained. Shoto settled beside you, his hand gently rubbing soothing circles on your back as you succumbed to the overwhelming grief. His touch was a small comfort amid the sea of anguish that threatened to drown you.

“I can’t live without him,” you choked out between sobs, your hands trembling as you pressed them to your chest. “He was everything to me, Shoto… I don’t know how to keep going without him.”

Shoto’s grip tightened, his own heart breaking at the sight of your pain. “I know… I know it hurts,” he murmured, his voice a gentle anchor in the storm of your emotions. “No matter what happens from here on out I would be beside you— I would do whatever it takes to get the both of you together for as long as possible…you just have to bear with this for now” 

The drive home was a blur of muted colors and blurred lights, the world outside the window merging into a haze of despair. You barely registered the movement of the car, your mind still trapped in the courtroom’s crushing weight, replaying every agonizing moment. Touya’s kiss, so fervent and desperate, was a fading echo in your memory, the touch of his lips now a ghostly warmth against your own.

When you finally stepped through the door of your apartment, the silence was overwhelming, a stark contrast to the chaotic noise of the courtroom. The space, once a sanctuary filled with shared moments and laughter, now felt like an empty shell—a hollow reminder of the love that had been so brutally torn away. The walls seemed to close in on you, the emptiness amplifying the ache in your heart.

Shoto stood in the doorway, his expression a mixture of concern and helplessness. “I’m going to stay nearby tonight, alright? You don’t have to go through this alone. I’ll be here when you need me.”

You nodded numbly, your movements mechanical as you made your way toward the bedroom. Shoto’s gaze lingered on you, a silent testament to his worry, but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes. The weight of your grief was a suffocating cloak, one that you couldn’t bear to share, even with someone as compassionate as Shoto.

Once you were alone, you collapsed onto the bed, the sheets still faintly imbued with the scent of Touya. Clutching the fabric to your chest, you inhaled deeply, seeking solace in the last remnants of his presence. But the comfort was fleeting, a cruel mockery of the warmth that used to fill your life. The harder you tried to hold on, the more those memories slipped through your fingers like grains of sand. His scent, once so potent, was fading, replaced by the cold sterility of your apartment. The feeling of his touch, the warmth of his body beside yours, was now just a distant memory, barely more than a ghost.

As you lay there, staring at the ceiling, a soft memory floated up from the depths of your mind. You remembered a day when Touya had come over for a surprise visit. You had been lounging around the apartment, feeling a little down, when he burst in with a playful grin.

“Guess who’s here?” he’d teased, his voice full of mischief.

You had looked up in surprise, and his grin had widened. “Touya, what are you doing here?”

He had sauntered over, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “What? I can't drop by my own girls house?...you wound me, sweetheart. How about a kiss to seal the deal?”

You had laughed, shaking your head. “And how is that supposed to help?”

With a dramatic flourish, he leaned in and pressed his lips gently against yours, his kiss light and teasing. “See? Instant mood boost,” he’d said, pulling back with a satisfied smirk.

You had felt a warm flush spread across your cheeks, your heart fluttering at the affection he had showered on you. He had cupped your face in his hands, his eyes twinkling with playful affection. “Still think I’m a bad influence?”

Before you could answer, he had leaned in again, his kiss deeper this time, filled with a tenderness that made you melt. His lips had moved against yours with a sweet, lingering touch, his breath mingling with yours as if he was trying to savor every moment.

As the memory faded, you found yourself reaching up to touch your lips, trying to hold onto whatever was left of him. The warmth of his kiss lingered on your fingertips, a fragile reminder of the love you had shared. You pressed your fingers gently against your lips, whispering into the emptiness of the room, “Don’t let go of me.”

The only response was the echo of your own voice, bouncing back at you in the silence. And as your eyes drifted shut, the last thing you saw was his smile, the one that always made your heart skip a beat. The one that promised, no matter what, he was never truly gone.

Because as long as you remembered him, as long as you held onto the love you shared, he would always be with you—in the softness of his kisses, in the teasing banter, in the echoes of the dark.

The tears came again, relentless and all-consuming. You buried your face in the pillow, muffling your sobs against the softness of the fabric. Every sound, every memory, seemed to dissolve into the void of your grief. His voice, his touch, were slipping away, becoming distant echoes in the vast emptiness of your heart.

“You deserve better, you know that right?,” his words reverberated in your mind, a cruel reminder of the reality you had to face. It felt like a punch to the gut, a cruel twist of the knife.

But how could you move on? How could you erase the only person who had ever made you feel truly alive, who had ignited a fire in your soul that now left you cold and empty? The pain of losing him was more than just heartache; it was an unbearable void, a chasm of loneliness that seemed to swallow everything in its path.

Your fingers fumbled through the closet, seeking some tangible piece of him. You found one of his shirts, the fabric worn and comforting. Pulling it out, you clutched it to your chest, the scent of his cologne a bittersweet reminder of the man you loved. It enveloped you, a ghostly whisper of what once was, mingling with the tears that streaked your face.

“I miss you so much,” you whispered into the darkness, your voice trembling and breaking as you cried. The words were a desperate plea to the empty room, a final declaration of love to a presence that now only existed in memory.

In the oppressive silence that followed, with the weight of the world pressing down on you, you held onto his memory like a lifeline. The ache in your chest was a constant companion, a reminder of the love that had burned so fiercely and was now reduced to ashes.

As you lay there, trying to find some semblance of peace in the quiet of the night, you clung to the fragments of him that lingered in your heart. You hoped that somehow, amidst the crushing despair, you would find a way to navigate this overwhelming pain. But for now, all you could do was hold onto his memory, let it lull you into a fitful sleep, and dream of a world where love didn’t end in sorrow, where time hadn’t been stolen away so cruelly.

Jesus christ this is the longest fic I have ever released so far ...damn ...

[gnnbloupthworld]

Extract from Seung-Hui Cho's manifesto:

You had a hundred billion chances and ways to have avoided today, but you decided to spill my blood. You forced me into a corner and gave me only one option. The decision was yours. Now you have blood on your hands that will never wash off, you Apostles of Sin.

Congratulations. You have succeeded in extinguishing my life. Vandalizing my heart wasn’t enough for you. Raping my soul wasn’t enough for you. Committing emotional sodomy on me wasn’t enough for you. Every single second wasted on your wanton hedonism and menacing sadism could have been used to prevent today. Ask yourselves, What was I doing all this time? All these months, hours, seconds. Only if you could have been the victim of your crimes. Only if you could have been the victim ...

The blood of the Innocents should never be shed, but the wicked we shall spread our wings and strike. We do not want the Weak, the Defenseless, or the Innocent, but the sadistic, the corrupt, and the wicked who prey and rape from the Weak, the Defenseless, and the Innocent. We will seek and demolish them until our last breath. You Lifetakers may have succeeded in raping our souls and shattering our dreams — but mark our words — the vendetta you have witnessed today will reverberate throughout every home and every soul in America and will inspire the Innocent kids that you have fucked to start a war of vendetta. We will raise hell on earth that the world has never witnessed. Millions of deaths and millions of gallons of blood on the streets will not quench the avenging phoenix that you have caused us to unleash

All of you who have ever been fucked by these Descendants of Satan Disguised as Devout Christians, all of you who have went through what I went through, all of you who have felt what I have felt in my life, all of you who have suffered the wrath of these Democratic Terrorists, all of you who have been beaten, humiliated, and crucified — Children of Ishmael, Crusaders of Anti-Terrorism, my Jesus Christ Brothers and Sisters — you’re in my heart. In life and death and spirit. We’ll soon be together.

As the time approached, I wished for a last minute miracle and discard this mission you’ve given me. Heaven knows I wouldn’t hurt a single leaf of a flower. But when the time came, I did it. I had to. What other choices did you give me? All this time... You never know that a human being is capable of doing until you fuck him to the edge.

Are you happy now that you have destroyed my life? Now that you have stolen everything you could from me?

INFORMATIONAL PURPOSES ONLY ❤️

[hitlikehammers]

the light behind your eyes (steddie timeloop; pre-bat attack🦇)

feat. Eddie falling hard and fast when Steve's had innumerable loops to have already fallen ✨🖤✨

“Not that I am not, hmmmm,” and he can barely bite back a moan; “not that’s I’m not fucking ecstatic, Harrington,” Eddie mouths against the lips on his, and he means it, too, he is in fucking heaven right now because not only is the hottest guy Eddie’s ever seen in real life and probably also in, like, magazines and stuff too: that guy is kissing him, touching him, running hands up under his shit and teasing his waistband, rutting a little against his thigh but…he’s doing it almost like it’s routine, like it’s not quite desperate, or not just desperate, expect for the touch of it and so no, Eddie doesn’t have to understand it at all for him to not be fucking complaining in the slightest—

Save that pointing out that he isn’t complaining stops Harrington’s hands on his body cold, freezes the lips pressed against him mid-suck and then they pull back, and Eddie’s panting so hard it burns, and he wants to whine, he’s only just learned the taste of this man but he wants more, it’s like he’s addicted already but then kinda like he always has been, like the deepest cells of him, the mitochondria from the textbooks he didn’t fucking read: it’s like it all knows the shape of this body, the flavor, and—

And that’s fucking ridiculous, but when Harrington pulls away?

Eddie kinda feels like the world’s ending.

And it is ending, in a way. Interdimensional madmen serial killers and all that, but.

This is different.

“Steve.”

Eddie frowns and can’t help but reach, frame Steve’s face even as Steve tries to shy away but still leans into the touch, and Eddie doesn’t understand; not least how Steve sounds so fucking shattered around his own goddamn name—

“Can you,” and Steve’s breathing heaves, shudders: the kind that lives between sobs but Steve’s cheeks are dry under Eddie’s palms and that almost feels all the more heartbreaking:

“I know it feels like you barely know me but,” and Steve blinks so fast, then he’s scrunching his eyes so tight and that, that might be why his cheeks are dry and oh: this is it. He thought before but:

This is the heartbreaking thing.

“Could you call me Steve? Please?”

And god, good fucking god but he asks it so small. It’s pleading and kinda edged in something desperate but here, from this titan of a man Eddie’s seen anew just these past days, this warrior barbarian his sheepies sand the praises of, this paladin out of the shadows come to save them all: he’s so small.

Eddie’s hands don’t move from Steve’s face, just draw him closer, upward on instinct until their brows touch, until Eddie can breathe in every shaky exhale that spills forth.

“Steve,” and maybe Eddie doesn’t quite understand the why, here, but he sure as shit savors the shape of that name on his tongue anyway, fucking sue him; “not that every single fucking version of my gay little fantasies aren’t dancing like they’re at queer fucking prom,” and he pauses, because he expects Steve to snort, maybe, expects to lighten the moment so charged, and not just with the kind of tension that tightens Eddie’s jeans—and Steve does make a sound for Eddie’s stupid little not-quite-joke, but it’s not a chuckle.

It’s a moan—but not the good kind. The kind that means pain.

And it’s almost worrisome, how when Eddie pulls Steve closer, he doesn’t fight it one bit; leans in almost…not even greedy. Almost fucking anguished.

“But this is just because it’s the end of the world, right?” Eddie makes himself ask, because too many things don’t add up, not least how Steve doesn’t even try to pull away, barely moves at all save just to breathe, and just to press closer into the crook of Eddie’s neck to do it.

“It’s just because I’m a wanted man whether it’s the cops, or the feds, or that fucker with the clock and the music,” Eddie rambles; doesn’t move his hand where it’s slipped to the side of Steve’s neck like an intimacy, though, doesn’t even consider shifting a fucking centimeter away from the heavy pulse of life surging under his palm. “Like, I mean, whether it’s 20-to-life or an electric chair or the bats—“

It’s the way the chest against him shudders that trips him up; not least to realize how close they are, that they’ve gotten, that Steve’s heartbeat’s something he can tease out without effort at all there, too, and…

Eddie glances up a little further to see Steve staring at the ceiling of the trailer, eyes glistening, the effort not to fucking cry evident as anything and, just, like…

What the fuck?

“Steve?” Eddie hedges a little, gentles his voice further because even though he doesn’t let a single tear fall, just seeing this man so close to it, while staying so close to Eddie, it’s, he just…

He can’t even try to lighten the moment, can’t even push didn’t realize I was that bad of a kisser, fuck past his lips.

“Give me a minute,” Steve doesn’t even rasp, just says even but so so quiet, and again, just so so small. It’s…

It’s not even heartbreaking anymore. Eddie’s whole chest just fucking hurts.

“You okay?” Eddie ventures after what has to be more than a literal minute; when Steve stops staring at the ceiling but screws his eyes close tight again to pull creases at their corners, between his brows; and Eddie whispers the question when he even dares to speak at all because something in this moment feels…fragile. Sacred in some way, even if he can’t name how or why. He waits, and Steve doesn’t move, barely breathes for the longest time so much it starts to kindle real fear in Eddie’s chest, so it’s only once Steve half-gasps and gets back to his lungs working like Eddie wants them to, once that holds for a while and Eddie understands that the closest to an answer that he’s going to get—he lets Steve breathe, and lets the feeling of it calm Eddie down, too, before he does the stupidest, most selfish fucking thing and asks, again:

“What is this, though?”

The way Steve sucks in his breath at the words cuts Eddie sharp; he shouldn’t have said anything. He should have let this lie and just…enjoyed a little bit of impossibility at the end of the world that wasn’t a bad thing.

He thinks maybe that’s what pushed him over, though, and made his tongue move, to shape the question at all: it’s so fucking far from a bad thing that it’s…it makes too much lightness in Eddie that he’s never felt before. Even in the absolute shit of this entire situation, Eddie’s basically nonexistent future on the horizon if he manages somehow to make it out of the next 48 hours alive: this is something that makes him feel like he could hope.

Hope even for the most absolutely absurd fucking things.

And hope like that has to make anyone fucking selfish.

“This?” Steve glances indicatively between them, with a quirked brow that he pulls off perfectly but it can’t land like it should, not for Eddie who’s just watched this gorgeous human swallow the stages of grief whole where he’s…he’s pulled back, Eddie realizes, Eddie can’t feel him chest-to-chest anymore and the idea of it’s a crushing thing, but it’s got nothing on the reality—either way, though, he’s hovering over Eddie now, still close, likely has been for a while and…and shit: his arms hadn’t even given out.

What the fuck kind of…superhuman stuff is this man made of?

“Thought it was obvious,” Steve chuckles, and that part, that sound rings hollow: Eddie’s had enough of a latent-forever crush on this boy for enough years to maybe have never heard this kind of chuckle but, it’s off. Eddie knows it’s not…what it should be.

Steve laughing is some kind of sunshine, nearly always, like a rule. Eddie knows that much.

“Must have lost my charm,” Steve grimaces while he looks down, down, hides from...Eddie doesn’t know what from, exactly. Save that whatever it is, he wants to hide a little, too.

But hiding, now, means that he’ll turn from Steve. And Eddie…Eddie wants to hide from the nameless horrible thing that’s swelling up in the space around them.

But Eddie doesn’t want to miss a second of Steve. He’s kind of afraid of the very concept of it, missing any…part of Steve. He knows they’re on borrowed time. He’s also not entirely sure this isn’t all of fever dream, maybe he got scraped by one of the nasty-ass rusted nails in the boathouse and all of this is just tetanus or some shit. Maybe it’s the X-Men-knockoff wizard fucking with Eddie’s head by giving him the unthinkable sort of thing he’s always wanted.

Whatever it is: Eddie cannot miss a second of it.

“This, yeah,” Eddie reaches to brush Steve’s chest where his heart’s still pounding, even when it’s not presses flush to Eddie’s anymore, even when they’e stopped kissing too many minutes ago for an excuse; “you more that live up to the hype, big boy,” Eddie chuckles a little, tries to make it warm, fucking grateful; “exceed it even,” Eddie adds, can’t help but splay his fingers and stroke up and down a little over the street of Steve’s shirt.

“But,” because Eddie’s selfish. Because touching Steve slow like this, even as he’s so stiff and his pulse is so fucking scared: take out the frantic pace of what it means to feel him, and Eddie…the hope’s all the stronger, now. The wanting.

The selfishness.

“This,” and Eddie lets his hand move to the notch in Steve throat, like his body knew he’s feel the pulse there as much as the shiver, and the hard swallow after he asks, one more time:

“What is this.”

And Eddie forces his gaze from Steve’s skin to Steve’s face, where his eyes are blown and his color’s off, too pale even in the dark.

Where he’s fucking beautiful, even as he steels himself and takes a deep breath, less like a diver to the depths and more like a man facing an executioner. Jesus.

But his gaze is still so tender, like whatever hurt he comes to know for what he’s about to do is acceptable, so long as it doesn’t touch Eddie, doesn’t spill over. Like he’s…shielding Eddie from something worse than everything that’s already come, somehow, and that’s fucking terrifying in and of itself but—

But Steve—Steve who he barely knows but feels like he knows somewhere deep in his chest that feels knew and known somehow before these moments, like it was made only for the feelings and the certainties he holds in regard to Steve, Steve, Steve, like maybe that space inside of him was only made on some cosmic level not just for the person who made him feel this way against all odds, but maybe made only and specifically just for Steve—but Steve protecting Eddie, and hurting all the more for taking the hit?

It’s unacceptable. It’s sour in Eddie’s veins.

“If I fuck it up again, it won’t matter, I guess,” Steve seems to speak to himself, mutters low even for the soft quiet they’re holding between them. He doesn’t even know if he’s seeing Eddie for how far away he looks, sounds, like he’s reasoning with the universe.

That tips the sour feeling straight into full on sick.

But before Eddie can say anything, do anything, Steve’s sitting up, drawing back: Eddie can’t help the way he whimpers in the back of his throat for the loss; if the loss feels like more than just the closeness, the promise of it—if it feels like the moments to come are poised to change the world.

“Don’t say anything until I’m done, okay?” Steve asks, implores. Eddie’s powerless against it.

His throat’s already too dry to do anything but nod.

Steve looks, nearly studies him, wide-eyed and needy and…Eddie just wants to hold him.

He just wants to hold him, and keep him.

“‘Kay,” Steve exhales heavy, shaky, like his heartbeat’s knocking around his lungs so there’s no possible world where he could have breathed out steady, where no one could, no matter how strong.

“I’m in love with you.”

Eddie—for wholly other reasons he suspects—gets his own dose of his lungs getting knocked around for how his heart trips and stumbles around those wholly fucking impossible and insane and desperately wanted words echo through his head, his ribs.

“And it might not make and fuckin’ sense to you, but,” and Steve’s breath hitches as he reaches, as he pauses like he’s not sure he’s allowed; “Eds,” and that’s not a thing he’s called so often, and certainly not in that tone, gutted but so steeped in…he said it and it’s true, because that name, hisname on Steve’s lips is fucking saturated in love and how, sure, but the fact of its undeniable enough that the semantics, the mechanics of it: irrelevant.

Would have mattered in the face of something lesser, but.

This isn’t that other-lesser thing.

So Eddie grabs those questioning hands and brings them to his cheeks where they’d been looking to land, to frame his face: to let them both feelthis, however it came to be, whatever else it holds inside.

He looks Steve in the eyes as he holds Steve’s hands to frame his own face like he’s something dear: because it is love. Unmistakably. Steve isn’t lying, or exaggerating.

And Eddie’s halfway fucking there with him, just to look at it.

Save for the way it also looks devastated. Also looks…in the kind of pain that doesn’t end, but somehow doesn’t fade. The scab you rip off to start the process over and over, to hurt all over again.

“I’ve been trying to save you so many times,” and Steve’s voice hitches some more around it, and it should probably cause more question, those words; should definitely cause more questions for Eddie himself, given how he accepts it so fast—the fairly clear implication.

“I’ve held your body in my hands so many times,” and Steve sounds broken for it in ways that even he, Edward Munson, who has seen what he’s seen these past few days, didn’t know a body, or a soul, could withstand and survive.

Also: okay. Okay.

More than an implication, before. Yep. Okay. But—

“Times?” Eddie finds himself croaking because…he’d jumped straight to saving his life but, but: times?

How many fucking times has Steve scratched the scar off and started again? How hard, how deep is the scar tissue?

“I’ve broken your ribs trying to convince this,” and Steve’s hand’s sliding down from one side of Eddie’s face to settle over Eddie’s still fumbling heart, hand stretched wide like it wants to hold the thing whole and true and safe: “to come back, back to me—”

And Steve’s voice cleaves down the center then, just flat out fucking gives out. And Eddie…

Eddie’s an impulsive person. Eddie’s not what you’d call…circumspect, doesn’t pull his punches once he feel inclined to run, to or from or alongside anything in his life.

And even he has never felt so strongly about anything than then thing that spills form him in absolute earnest, with the whole of his mess of a chest and the entire weight of his wild frantic heart:

“Sweetheart,” Eddie takes the one hand that’s not holding Steve’s to his face anymore and reaches, strokes his thumb so gently over Steve bottom lip, and yeah he takes in the way Steve’s eyes widen for it, the way he shifts from shattered to shocked in a second: but it’s all peripheral.

But the whole of Eddie is invested in the one thing he needs to know. More than he needs air to fucking breathe:

“How can I stay with you?”

And he watches Steve’s jaw drop as he moves his hand from those lips to cover Steve’s own hand one more time, still on toppings chest and he doesn’t think twice before damn near close-on begging:

“What do I need to do?”

Steve stills. Blinks.

“What?”

“I might not have had the pleasure just yet,” Eddie tries to sort the words out as he goes because his heart hurts so hard but at the same time it’s so full: “but I’m looking at you,” and he is, he’s looking at Steve and seeing so much, so many things, things that are there and things that could be there in the foreseeable future and things that Eddie can fantasize and dream of being his whole-ass future and just, just, just—

“You love me?”

Steve nods, lips still parted. No hesitation. Not a question.

Jesus.

And Eddie’s heart’s still racing, faster now, even but for…

Not just for fear, or shock, or lust, or…any of it.

Not for anything so simple as all that, now.

“And I die?” Eddie chides himself when Steve flinches ever so slightly, tries to find a gentler way to pitch the words when he speaks again because the point itself is thorny, he can’t make it soft:

“I’ve,” Eddie licks his lips; “I’ve died a lot of times?”

And he waits, and Steve’s blinks a lot of time really fucking fast, but then, again: he nods.

And Eddie’s heart hurts harder at the confirmation, and Steve’s clear bid not to shed a single fucking year—his heart hurts harder, but poundsharder for bigger reasons because fuck, fuck—

“And you’ve loved me enough to somehow bend time and space to try and undo it, to try and stop it?”

And if Steve’s got the trick to that magic, it stills the moment, stops time around them both as Eddie sees the words as they sink in for Steve, as they register and shift the shade of his gaze ever so slightly, brighter and deeper and magnetic and Eddie…

Eddie doesn’t need him to nod. Just looking him, just feeling everything that gaze is giving, solely for him, is all the answer he needs.

“So how do I get even the chance to stick around enough to deserve it?” Eddie asks, because he needs to know so that he can make sure he does it to the letter, and then fifty million times over to be sure. “To get to feel it full on,” because for as much as he’s already feeling, he can’t only imagine what it would be to feel it for an hour, a day, a week, a…a lifetime. He can only image.

And he fucking wants.

“What do I have to do to be able to feel this for more than a couple minutes,” and Steve’s eyes shift again, because he hears what Eddie’s saying, not hiding so much as trying to cram in: he feels this already, and at the same time knows it’s sample sized when what he craves, what he needs is something too big to measure; “to feel this, and return it twenty-fold and for the long haul,” and Steve’s still staring, still kinda gaping, so Eddie forces himself to pause, to ask even if everything points to a singular answer—he forces himself to wait and make super fucking sure:

“If you’ll have me?”

Steve blinks, frowns, then asks, voice hoarse:

“You believe me?” and he says it so slow, disbelieving himself. “Like, you get what I’m saying, and you, you,” he flounders, looks cast adrift and closer to tears now than he’s been yet and Eddie…

Eddie can’t let that just be.

“Of course I do.”

And maybe it’s not of course exactly, in the sense that Eddie doesn’t have questions, like a fuckton of questions but: he doesn’t have doubt, not in Steve. Somehow of all that he doesn’t know and that makes no sense, he does know that Steve is where his faith—if he was ever going to have any in anything—is meant to sit, whatever that means, whatever that demands accepting.

“Of course, sweetheart,” Eddie says with so much of himself he never knew was actually inside him to speak, to beg such truth. He didn’t know.

“So please, please tell me,” he fucking please it; “what do I do?”

Because he knows now. The breadth of what can, could, does, will live in his chest. And once he knows it?

He’s gonna fight like hell to have the whole of it. For always.

“To get to have this,” Eddie reaches, can’t help but brush some of Steve’s hair behind his ear and just…consider him. Marvel a little at the fact that the world is changing, Eddie can feel it, and it’s because this man loves him.

Him.

“This thing I’ve never even considered getting to know,” Eddie strokes Steve’s jaw and asks the only question left:

“What do I have to do to have the chance fall in love with you?”

Because Eddie doesn’t care if he has to lob off a fucking arm. He’ll do it. He’ll learn to play his guitar with his goddamn feet before he lets this chance go.

“Don’t be a hero.”

Eddie’s face must do something at the sorta sudden kind of outburst from Steve, because Steve ducks his head down a little and smiles almost apologetic, and still so fucking sad.

“I tell you not to be cute about it, and not to try to be a hero, but you are, you do, every time,” Steve tells him, explains, and that part at least tracks: he’s a contrarian to his detriment but…he doesn’t want to believe he’d do it when the stakes are this high. Not without a good reason and he can’t…imagine a good enough reason to leave this man so broken, and still fighting nonetheless.

He can’t imagine any reason in the whole fucking world good enough for that.

“Then I won’t,” Eddie says, because: well. It’s an easy fix in general, but like, he’s no fucking hero, so then it’s even easier.

“You will,” Steve smiles the saddest goddamn smile Eddie’s ever seen in his whole entire life., I too of the string of sad smiles he’s been treated to so far. “You always do,” and the resignation in stage a tone is only outweighed by the…pride, almost, for what he’s declaring against all odds to be true.

“Just, just,” Steve seems to debate with himself for a second, maybe whether he wants to fight the weight of established precedent one more time, wants to scratch off that scab in a whole knew way, because it felt like Steve was watching this play out different when Eddie believed him, and asked to work with him to make the wrongs right instead of aiding the process of his own ruin, and what looked like Steve’s own process of self-immolation in slow motion, over and again. Eddie gets why he pauses.

But it’s not even long enough to be called hesitation, really, before he’s diving in and giving Eddie the playbook, with no guarantee or even a whole lot of hope based on existing evidence to trust.

Eddie feels the magnitude of the living in a whole new way, on a whole new level, for that, as Steve speaks:

“When you do, when you’re a hero again because you always are, I need you to run when you’re done. We will be okay, I know what I’m dealing with now, I know how,” Steve says with. Steel creeping into his tone and Eddie wants more than anything to know what he’s planning to deal with, how Steve plans to stay safe because now Eddie’s heart’s tied up on the opposite end of the equation and he…he can’t survive and have it only flip the tables, have there still be a loss because Eddie’s not made of what Steve’s made of, and sure he’s only had a taste of this, but he…

He won’t survive losing it. Even just the taste.

“Don’t buy us more time,” Steve cuts back into Eddie’s headspace, the more important voice; the most important; “you do more than enough, I need you to trust me and I know you don’t have a reason to—“

“I trust you.”

And that’s unequivocal. Eddie trusts Steve. The end.

“How will I know when I’m done?” Because if Steve’s willing to go through this for him, he’s going to fucking take notes to make sure he does his part in turns, makes sure this is the last fucking time.

“Play the puppet master song,” which Steve doesn’t know, no way he’d fucking know on his own and Eddie didn’t doubt, but, like…

Jesus.

It takes a fucking second, just digesting what it means to be right for no doubting. It’s heady. Terrifying.

But also like stars in his stomach. He feels reborn in the simple reality of believing in this person who loves him this hard.

“Block the vents, don’t ignore the vents. When Dustin goes up the rope, you follow. Pull it up after you and block it off, hold them off in case any stragglers stick around,” Steve tells him, doesn’t sound skeptical, exactly, but just…maybe wary. Rightly so, given the…previous rounds of things. “We’ll need you to throw it back to us when we’re done.”

Eddie feels his face screw up a little because he wasn’t paying the most attention but he really thinks, like:

“Aren’t there closer gates—“

“I’ll need to,” Steve swallows hard, the bob in his throat almost painful to watch because Eddie can almost imagine the weight of it, the way the same motion’s been repeated so many times and yet he’s still at it, he’s still trying—

For Eddie. Jesus fuck.

“I’ll need to see.”

And if the hard-swallow wasn’t heartbreaking—again, every time Eddie thinks he’s been gutted entirely Steve goes and ups the fucking ante, good god, and he keeps doing this? He continues to say yes to this, these feelings, this, this…this, because if, for, for…

But regardless how you slice it: the way Steve’s voice cracks, on just those four words?

Holy fucking Christ—this has to be what’ll kill Eddie harder, deeper down than anything Steve’s trying to save him from.

“I won’t fail you this time, Steve.”

And Eddie means it, even if the words themselves spill from him automatic: they’re there to spill at all because Eddie means it, because Eddie’s heart’s never felt swollen like this before and he wants to give whatever it’s all fat and tender with to this man he barely knows but…maybe he knows more important things about him than he knows about most people in his life. Nearly all people in his life.

And that’s fucking has to count for something. For more than something.

“Eddie,” Steve starts, like he wants to argue some point but Eddie isn’t gonna have that, not now.

Not ever again, if he has anything to fucking say about it.

“No,” Eddie cuts him off and this time, this time, it’s Eddie who reaches and cradles Steve’s face, holds him like he’s precious, as much as he can because this man is precious beyond reason, but human hands are only capable of so much care: he gives what he can.

He knows it’s not enough, and hopes his heart in his words will make up the difference.

“No, this,” and he runs the pads of his thumbs beneath Steve’s eyes, because as gorgeous as they are, as he is: those eyes used to be bright. They were bright…before. When did they change, when did Steve from now like Eddie become Steve who’s tried to start Eddie’s heart with his own hands, and couldn’t?

Doesn’t matter.

Steve’s eyes aren’t supposed to be hollow behind the color; there’s only supposed to be the sunshine.

Not the endless dark.

“I’ve been taking it away, haven’t I?” Eddie breathes out in a level of horror at the realization that’s settling in the more he looks at Steve, and reads the toll he’s been paying, for Eddie. “I hate that, I hate that I—“

“Eddie,” Steve breathes, and the only shine in his eyes is tears and it’s wrong, it’s just wrong.

“It gets taken away because yours isn’t there anymore,” Steve reaches back, now, and holds Eddie’s face in his broad hands: “the light in you,” and his voice cracks and he blinks and one tear.

One tear falls.

Eddie’s sternum splits in two.

“I want to know what it is to fall in love with you,” Eddie says in a rush, demands on the whole fucking cosmos: “the whole way, because I think I’m already halfway there,” and it’s true, it’s true because he’d give his life for Steve already so he understands, of Steve’s in longer and deeper, why he’s fighting despite the hurt, but, but…

No more.

“And I want to earn it,” Eddie tells him. “I want you to fall for me not just because of, because of life and death stuff, or tied up in losing,” Eddie tries to fit the avalanche of feelings in him to words, prays it’s enough:

“I want it to be a,” he chokes, shakes his head and bites his tongue: “a good thing,” because he wants to be a good thing for this man. He wants to be only a good thing, as best he knows how.

“You are a good thing,” Steve counters, and fierce with it; “you’re the best thing.”

Eddie’s not strong enough to hold himself to just one tear when the floodgates break.

“I run when Henderson runs,” he breathes shakily. It’s a vow more than anything he knows how to give.

“You don’t run,” Steve tells him, so soothing, still so protective of Eddie, always protective of Eddie; “you’re so fucking brave, and you save our asses,” and he brings their foreheads to lean against each other as Eddie’s inhales trembles: “you’re just gonna fall back this time, so you don’t break my heart, too, okay?”

“Okay,” Eddie would agree to anything, at this point; this is easy. This he can do, no problem.

This he will do, no question.

“I’m sorry,” he finds himself whispering, because…because he has to.

He is so fucking sorry.

“You’re…” Steve starts, uncomprehending as Eddie just shakes his head, almost like a compulsion.

“I’m sorry I’ve disappointed you so many times,” Eddie hissed through clenched teeth, tries not to descend into blubbering, tries to maintain something like, if not composure, the capacity to be heard and known when he promises with his whole heart:

“I won’t do it again, I swear.”

And Steve watches him, eyes red rimmed and still brimming but carefully, assessing.

Eddie can help, though. He can put him a little bit at ease, or damn well fucking try.

“I already feel something,” and he brings Steve’s hand to his chest again, reminds them both his heart’s still beating in this world, in this time. “And I’m too selfish Steve.”

Steve cocks his head in question; Eddie wants to watch this man’s quirks, learn the minutiae of his every expression.

Forever.

“I need the whole shebang.”

Steve smiles, watery and still strained but less sad, and that’s something.

It’s all they have time for, because he can hear everybody coming back with supplies, remembers they’d been prepping for war.

It’s all the have time for—for now.

“I’m holding you to that,” Steve says, a little watery, a little shaky, a little unconvinced but wholly filled with love, still, and all together isn’t only serves to harden Eddie’s resolve that much more.

“You flake on me again?” Steve flips his fingers backward against Eddie’s shoulder in a poor excuse for a smack: “I’m gonna tie you to the driver’s seat next time, and leave Nance with Dustin.”

“There won’t be a next time,” Eddie answers, dead serious; “except for one thing.”

There’s something molten, a glint that isn’t tears when Steve lifts a brow in askance; when Eddie leans in and kisses Steve hard, deep, quick because they have to but it doesn’t have to be anything else because he leaves his heart and soul in the exchange, willingly and willfully and all fucking in.

“There’s gonna be a next time for that. I swear to god,” Eddie murmurs against Steve slips when he pulls back; “we’re gonna have so many next times.”

And when the door to the RV bursts open and everyone else spills in, Steve’s lips are a little swollen if you’re looking.

And Steve’s eyes still have that light.

For @klausinamarink, who requested 'The Light Behind Your Eyes—My Chemical Romance' at my HOBBIT-STYLE BIRTHDAY MONTH PROMPT FEST

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson @estrellami-1 @bookworm0690 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @nerdyglassescheeseychick @swimmingbirdrunningrock @goodolefashionedloverboi @sanctumdemunson @theheadlessphilosopher @sadisticaltarts

divider credit here

💫 ao3 link here

[rvp32]

Torn Hearts

Barely edited, wrote this to relieve stress, lmk if you guys enjoy this type of stories

In the dimly lit room, shadows danced across the walls as you sat alone, consumed by darkness. The weight of the world pressed heavily upon your shoulders, suffocating you with every breath. Thoughts of worthlessness and despair swirled in your mind like a tumultuous storm, drowning out any flicker of hope that dared to penetrate the darkness.

You had long been battling demons that lurked in the depths of your soul, demons that whispered lies of inadequacy and despair. Each day was a struggle to find purpose, to find a reason to continue existing in a world that seemed so indifferent to your pain.

And then she walked into your life, like a ray of sunlight breaking through the storm clouds. Wonyoung, with her radiant smile and gentle eyes, offered you a lifeline when you were drowning in the sea of despair. She became your anchor, tethering you to this world when all you wanted to do was let go and drift away.

But even her light couldn't fully dispel the shadows that lingered within you. The darkness still gnawed at the edges of your mind, threatening to consume you whole. You tried to hide your pain from Wonyoung, afraid of burdening her with the weight of your suffering, but she saw through your facade with a clarity that both comforted and terrified you.

One night, the darkness seemed to swallow you whole, leaving you gasping for air in its suffocating embrace. The whispers grew louder, urging you to end the pain once and for all. You found yourself standing on the edge of a precipice, teetering on the brink of oblivion, ready to take that final step into the abyss.

But then, like a guardian angel descending from the heavens, Wonyoung appeared, her eyes wide with fear and desperation. She reached out to you, pleading with you to hold on, to fight against the darkness that threatened to consume you. And in that moment, you realized that you couldn't bear to leave her behind, couldn't bear to inflict the pain of your absence upon her.

With her unwavering support and love, you found the strength to step back from the edge, to face the demons that haunted you with newfound resolve. Wonyoung became your lifeline, your reason for living, and you clung to her with a desperation born of fear and longing.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, as you and Wonyoung navigated the complexities of your relationship. Despite the lingering shadows of your past, you allowed yourself to hope that maybe, just maybe, you had found true happiness in her arms.

But fate had other plans.

One evening, as you returned home earlier than expected, a sense of unease gnawed at the edges of your consciousness. A feeling of foreboding hung heavy in the air as you stepped into the familiar confines of your shared apartment.

As you made your way down the hallway, the faint sound of laughter reached your ears, sending a chill down your spine. Your steps faltered, your heart pounding in your chest as you followed the sound to the living room.

And there she was, Wonyoung, wrapped in the arms of another man. His hands roamed freely over her body, tracing patterns of desire along her skin as she giggled and leaned into his touch. The sight before you was like a dagger to the heart, a betrayal so profound that it threatened to shatter your very soul.

For a moment, you stood rooted to the spot, unable to tear your eyes away from the scene unfolding before you. Anguish welled up inside you, a tidal wave of pain and betrayal threatening to engulf you in its icy embrace. Every fiber of your being screamed in protest, screaming out for justice, for retribution, for some semblance of closure in the face of such overwhelming betrayal.

But as you watched Wonyoung's laughter mingle with his, a numbness settled over you, suffocating the flames of rage and despair that threatened to consume you whole. It was as if you were watching the scene from a distance, detached and numb to the pain that tore at your soul.

And in that moment, you knew. You knew that the anchor you had clung to so desperately was nothing more than an illusion, a mirage in the desert of your existence. Wonyoung had never been your salvation; she had only been the chains that bound you to a life of misery and despair.

As Wonyoung's laughter faded into the distance, replaced by the steady patter of rain against the windows, you stood motionless, feeling as though the ground had been pulled out from beneath your feet. The world around you blurred into a hazy fog, your thoughts muddled and disjointed as you struggled to process the betrayal that had unfolded before your eyes.

But even as you tried to make sense of the chaos swirling within you, a part of you knew that there was no going back, no way to undo the pain and heartache that had been inflicted upon you. Wonyoung's betrayal had cut deeper than any physical wound, leaving behind scars that would never fully heal.

With a heavy heart and a soul weighed down by despair, you stumbled out of the apartment and into the cold embrace of the night. The rain soaked through your clothes, chilling you to the bone as you wandered the deserted streets, your footsteps echoing in the empty silence of the night.

With each passing moment, the numbness that had settled over you grew stronger, enveloping you in a cocoon of indifference that shielded you from the pain of your shattered heart. It was as though you had become a ghost, drifting aimlessly through the darkness with no destination in sight.

As the night stretched on into the early hours of the morning, Wonyoung's mind raced with worry and uncertainty. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong, that she had been caught in her deceit and now faced the consequences of her actions.

But despite the nagging doubts that plagued her, Wonyoung remained silent, unwilling to confront the truth that lurked just beneath the surface. She busied herself with preparations for the day ahead, hoping to distract herself from the gnawing sense of guilt that threatened to consume her.

When morning finally dawned, you still hadn't returned home, and Wonyoung's anxiety reached a fever pitch. She tried to push aside her fears, telling herself that you were simply out for a walk or needed some time alone to clear your head.

But as the hours ticked by and you still hadn't returned, Wonyoung's facade began to crumble. She knew deep down that something was terribly wrong, that the fragile balance of trust and love that had sustained your relationship had been irreparably shattered.

When you finally returned home later that day, Wonyoung's heart clenched with a mixture of relief and dread. She wanted to reach out to you, to hold you close and reassure you that everything would be okay. But as she looked into your eyes, she saw the pain and betrayal reflected back at her, and she knew that there was no turning back from the damage she had caused.

As Wonyoung hurriedly gathered her things and prepared to leave for work, you remained silent, your gaze fixed on some distant point beyond her reach. She wanted to say something, anything to ease the burden of guilt that weighed heavily on her heart, but the words remained trapped in her throat, unspoken and unheard.

When Wonyoung returned home from work, her heart sank at the sight of you curled up on the bed, tears staining your cheeks and despair etched into every line of your face. She longed to rush to your side, to wrap you in her arms and whisper words of comfort and apology into your ear.

But as she approached, a look of fear flickered across your face, and you recoiled from her touch as though her presence was a painful reminder of the betrayal you had endured. Wonyoung's heart shattered into a million pieces at the sight of your reaction, her own pain mirrored in the depths of your eyes.

"Please, don't," you whispered hoarsely, your voice barely above a whisper as you pushed yourself further away from her. "I can't... I can't bear it right now."

Wonyoung froze the weight of your words like a knife to her heart. She wanted to reach out to you, to bridge the chasm that had opened up between you, but she knew that the damage was already done. She had shattered the trust that had once bound you together, and now, there was no going back.

As the weeks passed, a tense silence settled over the apartment, broken only by the occasional strained conversation or forced smile. You allowed Wonyoung to go through the motions of affection, letting her kiss you and hold you close, but inside, you remained distant, your heart still raw from the betrayal you had endured.

Wonyoung, on the other hand, seemed to believe that things were slowly returning to normal. She went about her daily routine with a sense of quiet determination, her smiles masking the guilt and remorse that gnawed at her insides.

But beneath the surface, resentment simmered, a festering wound that refused to heal. You struggled with conflicting emotions, torn between the desire to confront Wonyoung and demand answers, and the fear of facing the truth and the pain that came with it.

Unable to bear the suffocating weight of your thoughts any longer, you found yourself wandering the empty streets, seeking solace in the bottom of a bottle. The alcohol burned as it slid down your throat, numbing the pain and blurring the edges of reality until nothing existed but the dull ache of emptiness.

In the dimly lit bar, surrounded by the laughter and chatter of strangers, you drowned in a sea of loneliness and despair. Each drink served as a temporary escape from the turmoil raging within you, a fleeting moment of oblivion in a world filled with heartache and betrayal.

But as the night wore on and the alcohol took hold, your thoughts turned to Wonyoung, to the pain she had inflicted upon you and the shattered dreams that lay in ruins at your feet. Anger bubbled to the surface, a searing heat that threatened to consume you whole as you raged against the injustice of it all.

And as you stumbled out into the cold embrace of the night, your mind clouded by alcohol and despair, you knew that you couldn't continue living like this, trapped in a cycle of pain and betrayal. Somewhere deep within you, a spark of determination flickered to life, a resolve to break free from the chains that bound you to a life of misery and despair.

As you lay in a drunken stupor, oblivious to the world around you, the sound of Wonyoung's voice pierced through the haze of alcohol and despair, jolting you awake from your restless slumber. At first, you thought it was a dream, a cruel trick of your tormented mind, but as the fog cleared from your brain, you realized with a sinking feeling that it was all too real.

As Wonyoung's voice echoed in the room, you felt a surge of disbelief and anguish wash over you, threatening to drown you in a sea of pain and betrayal. With trembling hands, you wiped the sleep from your eyes, hoping against hope that what you were seeing was nothing more than a horrible nightmare.

But as your vision cleared, the scene before you came into sharp focus, and the reality of Wonyoung's betrayal hit you like a ton of bricks. Your heart shattered into a million pieces as you watched her entwined with her lover, their bodies moving in perfect harmony, oblivious to the devastation they had wrought.

"Y/N, please," Wonyoung's voice rang out, filled with desperation and fear as she caught sight of you standing frozen in the doorway. She rushed towards you, her eyes pleading for forgiveness, but you recoiled from her touch, unable to bear the sight of her betrayal any longer.

"You lied to me," you whispered hoarsely, your voice barely above a whisper as you fought to control the overwhelming surge of emotion threatening to consume you. "You made me believe that you loved me, that we had something real, but it was all just a lie."

Wonyoung's face contorted with guilt and remorse as she reached out to touch you, but you flinched away, the pain of her betrayal cutting deeper than any physical wound. With tears streaming down your cheeks, you turned away from her, unable to bear the sight of the woman who had broken your heart into a million irreparable pieces.

Without a word, you began to gather your belongings, your hands shaking with the weight of the decision you knew you had to make. Each item you packed felt like a dagger to the heart, a painful reminder of the life you had once shared with Wonyoung, now shattered beyond repair.

As you gathered your belongings, Wonyoung's desperate pleas filled the room, echoing off the walls like a haunting melody. Tears streamed down her face as she begged for another chance, her voice thick with regret and sorrow.

"Please, Y/N, don't leave me," she pleaded, her hands reaching out to grasp yours in a desperate attempt to keep you from slipping away. "I know I messed up, but I love you. I need you. Please, give me another chance."

But despite the pain and longing in her eyes, you knew that there was no going back, no way to undo the damage that had been done. The trust between you had been shattered beyond repair, and no amount of pleading or begging could erase the hurt and betrayal that had seared its way into your soul.

With a heavy heart, you turned to face Wonyoung, her tear-stained face etched into your memory forever. "I genuinely loved you, Wonyoung," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you looked into her eyes one last time. "I cherished the moments we shared together, and I'm grateful for the happiness you brought into my life. But I can't stay here, not after what you've done.

As the days passed, Wonyoung's heart weighed heavy with regret and sorrow, haunted by the memory of your departure and the pain she had inflicted upon you. She tried to drown out the echoes of your final words, to bury the guilt and remorse that threatened to consume her whole, but no amount of distractions could silence the voices of doubt and self-loathing that plagued her every waking moment.

And then, one fateful day, the news of your death reached Wonyoung like a thunderbolt, shattering the fragile illusion of normalcy she had tried so desperately to maintain. With trembling hands and tears streaming down her face, she read the details of your passing, each word a dagger to her already wounded heart.

In that moment, the full gravity of her betrayal hit Wonyoung like a tidal wave, sweeping her away in a torrent of grief and regret. She fell to her knees, her cries echoing off the walls of the empty apartment as she mourned the loss of the love she had taken for granted, the love she had destroyed with her own selfish actions.

Through tear-stained eyes, Wonyoung replayed every moment she had shared with you, every smile, every touch, every word of affection that had once filled her heart with joy and warmth. But now, all she felt was emptiness, a void that threatened to swallow her whole as she grappled with the enormity of her mistake.

In the silence of the empty apartment, Wonyoung wept for the love she had lost, for the pain she had caused, and for the chance she would never have to make things right. And as she cried herself to sleep, haunted by the ghost of your memory, she vowed to carry the weight of her regret with her for the rest of her days, a constant reminder of the price of betrayal and the cost of lost love.

[angies-writing-blog]

For anyone without Ao3, because the request came in. Hehe… it’s been a tough week(s), so here’s a little self-insert to cheer up. My husband put our little one to bed and watched Forbidden Kingdom with me, and I fell in love with him... and Wukong again.

Withdrawing, his feet barely grazed the ground as she pursued him, her gaze locked onto him, returning with every twist and turn, never losing the rhythm.

Through the relentless rain, he could hear the drumming of her heart, feel its echo in his own. And there it was again: that familiar twitch in his chest, the one that always surfaced in her presence. An unusual tension, one he was unaccustomed to.

He was Sūn Wùkōng, the Great Sage, who had shattered the heavens and conquered death. What force could possibly disturb his balance?

Simple Movements. The delicate footsteps of that human child captivated his senses. Guided by him, her responses seemed to flow in a rhythm of fleeting seconds, yet they quickened to a pace so swift that even he struggled to keep up. As she drew nearer, her eyes sparkled like the stars the night sky refused to unveil. Challenging. Bold. With a teasing glimmer that made his throat run dry, she edged closer.

He inhaled deeply, twirling his staff around them in a playful dance. This time, there was no aggression, no predatory certainty; the Monkey King sought to enchant her.

Reserved, she had been during their first encounter. Marked by the weight of the world, she had shielded herself, unwilling to break free from her defenses to avoid the risk of vulnerability. He had taught her the necessity of shedding that armor. Now, she was attentive, vigilant, able to anticipate his every move, deflect his strikes, and see through his deceptions. In battle, she stood resolutely by his side; without her, he found himself adrift, unsure of what drove him onward.

Looking down, he met her gaze. Something profound lay within the depths of her celestial realm—more than mere respect, a connection he was eager to reciprocate in this very moment.

Wùkōng's grin widened, yet pure joy felt distinctly different. Deep within him, a faint pull stirred, one he could not name. Heavily, the staff rested in his hands, his movements slowing under its weight.

Silently, he sought her permission, raising his arm once more. Answering, a fleeting nod.

Gently, he caressed her cheek as the shape of his staff transformed in his grip. He wove it, now no larger than a hairpin, into her tousled dark strands.

Not even the moon could now rival her beauty.

Cautiously, her fingers curled around his, sending a surge of warmth through him. She was alive. Mortal. The clarity of this realization nearly stole his breath away. A mere human child, destined to leave him behind while he remained.

He resisted the truth, unable to accept it. He longed for her, to hold her close, to shield her from the world. This yearning struck him with greater force than any battle he had ever faced.

A heavy sigh escaped Wùkōng as he bent down, pressing his lips to her forehead. She would not stay forever, but in this fleeting moment, she belonged to him, just as he belonged to her.

Pulling her closer, her arms encircled his back, and a sigh escaped her lips, too.

Still he had become when she began to hum a soft, familiar melody. Floating between them, it broke the spell of his stillness, and he embraced her sound. Gently, his hands found her waist, their feet moving in the same rhythm—slow, flowing—until no boundary remained between them.

A distant call shattered the tranquility. They both paused, and in that shared breath, an exhale escaped them. For an instant, silence enveloped them, then laughter bubbled forth, light and free, dispelling the heaviness once more. Whenever the world threatened to stand still, Zhu Bajie had a way of pulling it back into motion.

Wùkōng lowered his head again, whispering his love against her skin. Still smiling, they gently released each other from their embrace, following in harmony the direction from which the voice had come, their fingers lingering, tenderly entwined.

[bakugo-softski]

If i have to see another pair of repressed loser gays go to the ends of the goddamn earth, fight heaven and hell, eldritch horror, fate and destiny, the fuckin past AND their own feelings only for the story to end “open-ended” as if the creator had only casually dropped the single most soul shattering, transcendental love story the likes of which the world had never seen on accident, i will simply become an eldritch horror myself. Please. PLEASE. For fucks sake put me out of their misery don’t DO this to me again. I stg next time i see gay verbal edging in my fav media i will simply throw myself off a cliff before i have to see the ending

[freemilkshakesposts]

Bathing In The Rain

⚠️Warning ⚠️: Sexual content (18+) MDNI

Levi x Reader (Smut)

Summary: A Marley soldier and the captain of the Survey Corps, a love deemed forbidden, a passion that you once believed to be genuine—a lie, a fabrication, an illusion. How could you not have seen it for what it was? Yet, perhaps, when you encounter Levi beneath the rain's relentless downpour, the true essence of your relationship will be unveiled. In other words...outdoor smut in the rain.

The night unfurled in a wild dance of grey and silver, the heavens erupting in a primal deluge to drench the world below. Rain descended in relentless sheets, soaking everything in its path, an unstoppable force of nature. Thunder roared in the distance, a feral, beastly echo shattering the fragile stillness. But in this world, peace is an illusion. There is no such thing. There must always be chaos to balance the order, a perpetual disruption to maintain the façade of equilibrium.

Levi stood outside bathed in the raw splendour of the nocturnal storm, surrendering himself entirely to it.

The rain was merciless, each drop a sharp lance of cold against his skin, like arrows piercing St. Sebastian. But while Sebastian’s torment was divine, Levi's was an earthly baptism by storm.

The stinging rain was his punishment, embedding into his flesh, each droplet tracing his face with a crystalline touch. It slipped down his form like ghostly caresses, drenching his uniform, transforming the fabric into a darker, richer shade, while his dark hair clung to his forehead.

Yet, amidst the sting and the chill, there was a purity to the moment—a delicate, immaculate tableau. He stood in solitary watch, consumed by the storm’s relentless embrace.

"Levi," a voice called out, shattering the serenity of the moment, its barely audible murmur struggling against the storm's fury. "We need to talk."

He pivoted towards the voice, the rain continuing its onslaught, each drop slicing into his skin with the precision of tiny, cold blades. His gaze shifted, a nearly imperceptible softening in his eyes as he took in your disheveled state.

Your hair, plastered against your face in limp, damp strands, resembled wet seaweed. The drenched fabric of your shirt adhered to your form like a second skin, highlighting the curves of your breasts. Harsh creases marred your long, black coat, revealing the frailty of your soaked clothing underneath. You were utterly drenched, the rain's relentless, unyielding assault rendering you a sodden, vulnerable figure in the storm.

As you approached him, heavy droplets cascaded down your cheeks, blending seamlessly with the tears you fought to mask.

"Why did you come out here? Shit, look at you, completely soaked." His voice was low, edged with a chilling steel. "You might as well come inside to dry off; can't have you catching a cold." His grip tightened on your wet, cold shoulder, steering you towards the entrance with an unsettling calm.

You shoved him back instantly, your hand pressing firmly against his chest, eliciting a shuddered gasp from his throat.

“N-no,” you stammer, the quiver in your voice betraying the fortress of your resolve. You gasped internally, catching a glimpse of his eyes—eyes ablaze with a malevolent inferno, scorching your skin with their crimson heat. The raw power of his gaze almost consumes you, drawing you into submission. But then the cold rain, relentless and unforgiving, lashes at your face, a brutal reminder of the grim necessity of this act. Fuck it. You've bled and suffered, lost everything on this deranged quest for him, for this twisted mirage.

Drawing a deep breath, you force the truth up from the depths of your being. "Our whole relationship was nothing but a lie."

Levi's eyes narrowed, the rain beating down on his furrowed brow. "What are you talking about?"

It all became clear. The pieces had fallen into place: his sudden interest, the probing questions—questions you’d never answer to anyone else—and the frequent absences. Your heart tightened with the realisation that the man you had come to love had seen you as nothing more than a tool.

"You know exactly what I mean," you hiss, taking a deliberate step closer. "All this time, you've been using me, haven't you? Gathering intel, manipulating events—whatever fits your agenda. I'm nothing but a pawn for the Corps, a worthless rag for you just to squeeze dry for information on Marley."

The rain fell harder, each droplet crashing against the ground with such force it felt as though the world itself was convulsing, on the verge of disintegration, crumbling into a void.

Levi's gaze wavered, a flicker of something-guilt, regret?-crossing his features.

"I did what I had to do," he replied, his voice betraying a slight tremor as he struggled to maintain a veneer of control. "For the sake of humanity. For the mission."

You shook your head, the rain blending with your tears, searing your eyes with an almost exquisite agony. "Was any of it real then?" You asked, your voice trembling. "The nights we spent talking, the moments we shared...did your ever care for me, or was it all just a part of your elaborate scheme?"

The silence that followed was a deafening void, punctuated only by the storm's unyielding wrath. Rain hit against the trees with relentless brutality, flooding their limbs in a cascade of ruin, submerging the leaves in an unforgiving torrent. The once-refined petals of fragile blooms wept in mournful surrender, their fragile beauty annihilated, petal by petal.

Levi stepped forward, his hand extending to brush against your faintly reddened cheek. The chill of the air clung to his touch, an icy whisper that sent a shudder rippling through you, urging you to instinctively draw back.

"I never meant to hurt you," he murmured, his voice barely audible above the storm, tenderly tracing the contours of your face. "But this world... it doesn't allow for love. Not for people like us."

His words sliced through your chest like a precision-honed blade, extracting the vibrant, pulsing crimson of your heart until only void remains.

He's correct.

In this world, all that is beautiful is inevitably marred, unable to endure the unforgiving verities of our existence. This brutal equilibrium.

But inside, a primal urge festers—to be selfish, one last time. Selfish enough to annihilate that equilibrium. That's what you crave, what you deem necessary: obliterate the balance, reclaim and preserve that elusive beauty once more.

Without hesitation, you surged forward, seizing his cold, wind-battered face, pressing your lips to his in a desperate, punishing kiss.

He matched your intensity, his arms ensnaring you, yanking you closer.

The rain, now a relentless deluge, crashed over you, submerging your entwined forms on the sodden earth, both of you consumed by the downpour.

Your lips clashed, battled, and devoured each other with a ferocity so violent it was as if you were each other's last meal, a sacrificial communion.

You broke the kiss, gasping for breath, your eyes searching his. "Tell me this is real," you pleaded. "Tell me it wasn't all a lie."

Levi’s eyes softened, and for the first time you saw the man behind the soldier, the vulnerable soul beneath the hardened exterior. "This," he said, his voice quivering ever so slightly as his icy hands gripped yours, "this is real."

From those words something fractured deep within you, the final vestige of restraint, utterly incinerated.

Your shaky fingers wrestled with the buttons of his shirt, the rain turning the simple act into a battle against the elements. Frustration built within you, but Levi was there, his hands guiding yours with unspoken urgency, and soon his shirt lay discarded on the slick ground. In a swift motion, Levi began to yank the long coat from your shoulders. His hands slid beneath your own shirt, tearing at the buttons and pushing the fabric away, leaving you exposed to the relentless storm. As the cold air hit your skin, he shoved you against the wall, the icy stone biting into your back—a brutal contrast to the searing heat of his form.

His fingers began to glide along the curve of your spine with a soft touch, each touch a stroke of reverent artistry, like a painter spellbound by the sublime beauty of their subject, consumed by an all-encompassing need to possess it. As your body arched into his touch, the warmth of his mouth followed, tracing a burning path down your neck towards your chest. His lips found your left nipple, sucking gently, drawing soft gasps from you as his hand moved to massage your other breast, kneading it tenderly with each rhythmic pulse of his thumb.

It was clear that all semblance of propriety was swept away in the torrent.

He tore his mouth from your left nipple, lips now seeking yours again with an almost predatory hunger. The kiss that followed was desperate, devouring-his lips demanding, yours eager. It was a collision of mouths, breath mingling in a frantic exchange.

Your hands wandered without grace, pulling him closer, as if to meld into one being. A low groan escaped you, lost in the wet heat of the kiss, as his tongue probed beneath your teeth, slipping past your lips with audacious confidence. Fingers gripped your hips, digging in with a fierce possessiveness, as if this moment were the last chance to claim you. But then, he withdrew from the kiss, leaving only a thin, glistening strand of saliva bridging the distance between you both.

“Tell me you want this. Tell me,” he implored, his voice now laden with a desperate yearning that mirrored his pleading gaze.

This time you reassured him: an immediate breathless "Yes" slipping from your lips.

Levi suddenly swept you off the wall, causing you to gasp as he effortlessly spun you around, laying you gently on the damp grass. The cold ground stole the searing heat from your body, turning it into mist as you gazed up at the dark sky, breathless and captivated.

He moved to hover above you, his presence a cocoon of warmth that drew you inescapably into his orbit. Levi's eyes were dark and enigmatic, locking onto yours with a fierce intensity, a hunger that shattered any illusion of restraint. It was almost frightening, yet you couldn't deny that he was the very essence of seduction incarnate.

Rain clung to his lashes, falling onto your face like tiny, cool kisses. You were utterly enveloped by him, the sensation of wet mud against your skin fading into insignificance. In that moment, nothing existed but Levi.

His lips resumed their journey across your skin, each kiss upon your collarbone a jolt that stirred a ravenous need within. The cool droplets of water clinging to your flesh starkly contrasted with the searing heat of Levi's kisses, eliciting a sharp gasp from you. As his mouth wandered downward across your chest, his hands gripped your hips, steadying you. He knelt before you, his lips charting a slow, torturous path to the edge of your abdomen, lingering tantalizingly close to that aching desire that you yearned for him to sate.

"You look beautiful like this," he murmured, his voice low and husky.

His hands found the waistband of your trousers, seizing them and stripping them away with deliberate slowness, savouring the anticipation in the air. With the same fervent urgency, he tore away your black knickers, now damp with a delicate sheen, casting them aside to join the scattered remnants of your clothing.

He seized your thighs with a firm grasp, prying them apart.

"Already so wet for me," he murmured, the words seeming to reverberate off the tender skin of your inner thighs, as his thumb traced a lazy circle around your clit, the wetness amplifying in your ears.

His lips trailed a path down to your exposed core, each touch worshipful.

As his mouth closed around your swollen clit, a delicate gasp escaped your lips, the sensation verging on the unbearable. His tongue teased and flicked, coaxing moans from deep within, as his hands pressed your thighs back, exposing you completely to him.

You didn't care if anyone caught you; the thought of exposure was as thrilling as it was irrelevant. Your own comrades witnessing you submit to Captain Levi? It didn’t matter. This felt right—inevitably, perfectly right.

Within mere seconds, another moan tore from your lips, your hips arching instinctively toward his face as he administered a pleasure so exquisite it bordered on torment. His touch was a maddening interplay of fierce and gentle, each caress sending electric jolts through your every nerve. Your hands, almost of their own volition, ensnared his dark hair, fingers tracing the starkness of his undercut.

The swiftness of your approaching climax was both disconcerting and shameful like a delicate thread stretched to its breaking point, teetering on the edge of an inevitable rupture.

Then, the sudden warmth of his mouth vanished entirely, leaving behind an emptiness, a fullness that dissolved into nothingness.

An immediate chill settled over you, the void left by his absence creating a gaping abyss. It seemed to siphon away the invisible warmth that had enveloped and protected you from the rain, intensifying the bite of the night air against your exposed skin. Cold raindrops began to pelt your body with an unforgiving rhythm.

"Levi..." you murmured, a plaintive note edging your voice.

He drew his face from your thighs, returning it to yours, and gently placed a single finger upon your lips. His expression had taken on a wholly illicit quality. His lips were smeared with the glistening evidence of your desire, the damp sheen of your arousal staining them.

"I don't want you to cum like this. I want us to be selfish together. One more time. Will you allow me that?"

To be selfish. One more time. The notion, steeped in cruelty, dances on the edge of immorality—a siren call to greed. To be so selfish as to betray Marley, to find pleasure even with the enemy. Yet, how could one deny him now? His eyes, frantic with desperation, and the rain draping his skin in a luminous veil. He appeared insatiable. And, of course, you craved your own release... that sharp, intoxicating crescendo of pleasure only he could provide, a singular, forbidden ecstasy no one else could replicate.

You quickly nodded, finding yourself unable to form words, as your body instinctively leaned towards him again. Your legs parted with a kind of silent urgency, beckoning him closer.

Levi's lips curled into a knowing smirk as he observed your needy demeanour. He began unzipping his trousers, revealing his ardent desire, pulsing with the anticipation of being freed from its confines by the allure of your blossoming beauty.

"So tight..." He grunted, his determination palpable as he fought to penetrate the walls of your defenses, striving to reach that sacred, long-abandoned sanctuary within you-a place where he once found peace but had neglected in the name of duty and humanity, as he had so conveniently excused himself.

How much he lamented his neglect; in this moment, all he wanted was to shower you with the love you deserved, a desperate attempt to redeem himself and reclaim what was lost.

When he finally entered you, it was not mere pleasure that consumed him; it was something far more profound. His eyes dilated, and the veins in his neck pulsed beneath the pale strech of skin. This act was not a simple indulgence in physical desire; it was a dark, sacramental rite, a pursuit of redemption. To the unknowing observer, it might have seemed a mere spectacle, a cunning performance crafted to ensnare your affection and pry information from your lips. But you knew Levi too well.

The pounding rain formed a cacophony in your ears, drowning out everything but the sensation of Levi-his touch, his breath, each gasp and moan. Every thrust was a fervent prayer, a plea for more,as he surged into you with an exquisite ferocity. His movements were deliberate, forceful, each one reaching deep, pressing against the tender boundary of your cervix. His hands traced a delicate path across your skin- stomach, chest, face-a whisper of tenderness against the merciless rhythm of his thrusts. It was an intoxicating equilibrium, and you relished every moment of it.

"I'm sorry..." Levi purred into your ear, a groan lacing with his words.

Those words pushed you over the edge, sending you to your peak. The rain seemed to intensify, as if it were a baptism, washing away every ounce of the past, pain and betrayal. Your cry pierced the air, your nails digging ruthlessly into the wet earth, your body responding, convulsing around him. Levi was right there with you, his grip on your hips tightening, his breath a scorching whisper against your ear. In that moment, all restraints disintegrated, and his seed flooded into you, filling your garden. The long-barren soil of your existence was finally rejuvenated, and the once-withered flowers of your soul exploded into vivid, riotous bloom.

You both collapsed onto the grass, utterly spent, each breath ragged. Levi's head rested against your chest, his breaths shallow and feverish, their warmth searing your skin.

Glancing up at the dark sky, where menacing clouds hang like an impending judgment, fear is absent. Instead, a surge of life more vibrant than ever before courses through your veins.

Levi's restless shift upon your chest caught your attention, his head lifting languidly from its repose. Then, as if the storm itself were holding its breath, the silence was ruptured by his murmur: "I'm sorry," he whispered again, his voice scarcely rising above the tempest's roar. "For everything." In response, you extended your index finger tracing the contours of his face with deliberate tenderness, guiding from the curve of his cheek to the rigid edge of his sharp jawline. You lingered there, gently massaging the tip of his chin with your thumb.

"I don't know if I can forgive you," you whispered, your gaze heavy with somber intensity. "In this world, beauty and duty must always be in balance. What we share is beauty—rare and fragile. But duty remains, unyielding. I am a Marleyan soldier, and you are the captain of the Survey Corps. To disrupt this equilibrium continually carries profound consequences."

You sighed deeply, the weight of your decision pressing heavily on the air. "Yet we are all permitted one indulgence to disrupt this fragile equilibrium, one fleeting moment of self-gratification. I have elected to be selfish with you now, to forsake duty for this transient beauty. I chose you. But forgiveness, that would mean succumbing to the chaos that inevitably follows. I want you safe... for if we transgress, we unravel the equilibrium."

Levi remained silent, his eyes steadfastly locked onto yours, yet you could discern the unspoken acceptance of these truths within his mind. He nestled his face against your chest once more sighing into it, his arms encircling your form, drawing his body ever closer, as if seeking to fuse his very body with yours.

Both of you knew this brief peace was destined to shatter, as inevitable as a raindrop meeting the earth. Yet, for now, you chose to remain entwined, savouring the warmth of your bodies pressed together. Even the rain, once a curse, now felt like a gentle caress.

As your fingers traced the sharp lines of Levi’s undercut while he slept against your chest, you understood this was the moment—the singular truth you craved, the only reality you sought to possess.

[itsabouttimex2]

Platonic yandere monkey family finding out y/n is dating redson

Monkiefam reacts to dating Red Son

(Alternate Scenario)

MK will no doubt be the calmest about this situation... depending on the season. In the start, he’ll be incredibly upset (even somewhat betrayed) about you dating his very dangerous rival. Let’s not forget that Red Son was once very willing to harm innocent people in his quest to take over the world/please his father.

Once Early!MK learns about your relationship with Red Son he’s genuinely worried for you, thinking you might have been coerced into the relationship in some way. This fear sets him on the war path, racing off to the Demon Bull King’s fortress. He’ll unhesitatingly smash through hordes of Bull Clones, ripping apart the metal of the drones like wet tissue paper. Each machine-shattering swing of the Ruyi Jingu Bang brings him a step closer to you, a step closer to the dining hall that serves as the center room of the armored fortress.

Where he finds you and Red Son sitting across from one another, happily sharing a meal together.

His heart is struck with anger and relief in unison, his diametric emotions spread between the both of you. He’s furious at Red Son, for daring to try and court his precious sibling, but also eased by the fact that you’re clearly unharmed and here by your own will and volition. By nature of being someone very precious to him, you garner far less anger from MK than his rival does, but he’s still upset. His voice takes on a gruff edge as he angrily scolds you, sounding much like Pigsy does when the chef flips his lid.

“You came here?! Without telling me?! To go on a date with my rival?!”

Any protests, excuse, or explanations from you are summarily dismissed as he grabs you by the wrist, swinging his golden staff against the ground. Bits of tech and clutter from around the house gather together, forming a small mech with the both of you in the cockpit. Red Son can only stare in shock as MK’s brand new mech stomps out of the fortress, each angry step shaking the ground.

The ride home is tempestuous, his emotions flaring as he pilots the gold and red mech, biting his tongue to keep himself from yelling at you. He’s angry, sure, but he still loves you. MK doesn’t want to drive you away or hurt your feelings, after all. He just wants to keep you safe.

Even if it means cutting you off from your ‘boyfriend’. He’s only doing it for your own good, of course.

Sun Wukong has seen people make a lot of bad decisions in his time. Even as knowledge and resources grow wider spread and more readily available, people stay foolish, small-minded, reckless. Sometimes by circumstance. Sometimes by choice. And one of the greatest motivators for foolish decisions, staying consistent through the centuries-

is love.

Love, whether fleeting and passionate or slow and drudging, changes people. It inspires them to perform grand gestures, to better themselves, to grow and learn. Love makes people into artists, writers, sculptors, all so that they can share with the world with the white-hot beat of their hearts.

And then, equal and opposite, it drives them to violence and bloodshed. Blood-red hands born of green-eyed envy driven to take up sharp knives and heavy cudgels. It breeds wicked plots and gruesome schemes, tricking people into throwing their lives away for a fleeting flame that’s destined to burn out.

Love is beautiful and dangerous in equal amounts, something to be both cherished and feared.

Sun Wukong has seen both outcomes. He’s personally dealt with tragedies born of love, many times over. Not every coupling ends with marriage and children, a ring and a promise.

His own sworn brother, Zhu Baije, was cast out of heaven for attempting to seduce Guanyin, being reborn as a pig demon. Then, he never returned to the maiden in Gao village that he fell for, instead spending his life as a cleanser of altar leftovers.

Kui Mulang was separated from his lover for his crimes, and forced to become a furnace keeper. Tang Sanzang refused to marry the queen of the Women’s Kingdom, and then rejected the scorpion demon that stole him away.

He doesn’t tell you all of that, of course. He nudges you with an elbow and gives you a cheeky grin, saying that: “It doesn’t always end well, bud. Trust me, I’ve seen more than a few things in my time that would have you running for a cloister.”

He doesn’t warn you off of love entirely, or threaten you to not start dating. In fact, he’s not entirely opposed to the idea of you having a significant other. He’s a pretty easy-going guy, even when he’s staring down his enemies or cracking skulls open.

In fact, depending on who you go after, he might be entirely supportive of you!

Red Son is not a decision he will abide by, unfortunately. There’s just too many flaws to count, in Wukong’s opinion. Short-tempered, egotistical, elitist, violent, power-hungry… nothing that qualifies him to be your partner, honestly.

So the Great Sage goes about trying to casually split the two of you up, whether it’s finding his way “by coincidence” into your dates, or crashing any meetings you and the demon have. What can he say? He gets around a lot more these days, doesn’t he? It’s not strange to meet up in popular places around Megapolis.

Even though he continues to show up wherever you and Red Son meet, no matter how “off the beaten path” or “hole in the wall” it may be. He’ll never justify himself or explain why he’s there. But he will grab a table and join the two of you.

He might not be outright sabotaging the relationship, but he sure makes it hard to maintain and grow. He won’t candidly ruin it, but he keeps pushing and pushing, slowly fraying your nerves. It’s a trap, where he’s trying to push you into snapping at him. And if you do fall for it?

It does get worse.

Try to lash out at him, or demand that he go away. Yell at him, or push him away. Try it, and he’ll throw you over his shoulder and hop onto his flying cloud, racing you back to Flower Fruit Mountain. From there, he’ll forbid you from being with Red Son again, grounding you for the outburst he intentionally provoked.

Watching you grow upset with his decree, Wukong will wipe away the tears gathering up in your eyes, and pull you into a hug to comfort you. He doesn’t want you upset. He just wants you to himself.

“It’s alright, bud. Don’t worry about that fire guy. He’s pretty awful, honestly. Let’s sit down and watch something fun to take your mind off him, alright?”

And; for now at least, he’s got you.

No. Absolutely not. Macaque refuses to allow it. He doesn’t want to see you with anybody, but least of all a “hot-headed demon with daddy issues,” as he puts it. Where Wukong will show restraint by never outright ruining your dates and outings together, Macaque crosses that line unhesitatingly. Once he learns that you’re openly and happily dating a dangerous demon, he sets out to find you and rectify this little issue.

He stalks out to the park that you and Red Son are walking through, quietly following along as his glare burns into the demon’s back. His fury reaches a boiling point when the two of you settle onto a bench, Red Son’s hand slowly reaching out to yours.

He furiously stomps through the park, coming up behind the both of you. The shadows writhe and roil with each step he takes, coming alive to lash at the ground around them with ice-cold tendrils.

He summons up his shadow staff and swings it down, smashing the middle of the bench you and your boyfriend are sitting on to announce his presence, cleaving the metal cleanly and easily. You and Red Son both scramble to your feet, shocked and more than a little scared.

You specifically.

If there’s anything that gives him reason to pause, anything that stops him in his tracks, it’s the look of outright fear in your eyes. He takes a moment to catch his breath, dispelling his staff and quieting the rioting shadows. He’s still angry, sure. But he doesn’t want you to be afraid of him. So, even though he’s seething with fury, he stops short of actually harming Red Son, instead settling for dragging you away by your ear as you argue and protest his rough hold on you.

Macaque pulls you over to a shadow portal, still gripping your quickly-reddening ear between his thumb and pointer finger, pushing you in before him. He whips around to shoot Red Som a death glare, then turns back and jumps in after you.

You both pop out inside your shared house, Macaque’s foot tapping impatiently as he folds his arms, staring at you disapprovingly. You rub at your sore ear, glaring right back.

“No dating. I already told you this. One, you’re too young. Two, anyone could be an opponent in disguise. Three, he’s dangerous. Seriously, bad call. I thought you were smarter than this, kid.”

He goes silent when he sees the tears beading up in the corners of your eyes, maybe from pain, maybe from his lecture. He did just technically call you stupid. Macaque sighs, and pats your head.

“Look, just… go lay down. See if you can’t get some shut-eye, alright? I’ll check up on you when it’s time to eat.”

He sends you off to your room, spinning you around and nudging you off, sighing as you go. His powerful ears make it impossible to ignore your quiet sniffles and the sound of tears hitting the hardwood floors.

He’s not the bad guy here, he reminds himself. The bad guy is whoever’s trying to corrupt you or steal you away from him. Them, not him.

Never him.

[elysiaheaven]

Please some Ronin headcanons with a actual fallen angel!

Eclipse of Wings- Please lemme know if i should make this as a series ^^ in comments!!

You don't have to meet the devil, itself, When you meet its butcher.

Words:3000

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Summary: You fell into a worse place than hell, Humanity- Try not to be sinned little angel.

( Reader is a g.n!)-(let me know if there were places where she/her were mentioned i will fix them ^^)

TW: Violence, Blood, Mentions of religious trauma,

EXTRA: He's a character from a game named Killer chat! Please play it! It's so good! I think I need to do more research on him, If what I wrote doesn't really scream him! I'm sorry! I'm still learning abt him! I KNOW IT'S BAD I'M SORRYY!!

A fallen angel draped in sin, With wings in tatters, pale as thin, They treads through dusk, love half-decayed, A dreamer lost, yet unafraid.

And by their side, the butcher grins, With crimson hands and violet sins, He carves through hearts, dark hymns in mind, A twisted lover, raw and blind.

His love is poison, sharp and sweet, Where heaven’s loss and hellfire meet— A crown of thorns, a kiss of glass, Two broken souls that shadows cast.

Together they dance, grotesque yet whole, A martyr’s heart, a devil’s soul. Bound not by light, nor chains above— But by ruin, by chaos, by love.

You fall.

The sky yawns open, pulling away like a curtain, and the light dims behind you until it is nothing but a pinprick. The clouds part as if ashamed to touch you, and the heavens above—where you once belonged—fade into silence.

You don't remember what you did, only that they said you were guilty. It didn’t matter how much you protested. No matter how fiercely you clung to your truth, they cast you out.

The wind burns against your skin as you plummet, rushing past in furious currents that howl as if trying to tear your wings apart. But they remain white—untouched, pristine, a silent testimony that you never sinned. Still, the gates are closed now.

You can’t go back.

The memory of your last thought before the fall clings like a whisper at the edges of your mind. I don’t want to go back. I don’t care anymore. The place you once cherished feels more distant now than the stars that blink faintly against the endless sky. They had called it paradise, but if that was heaven… why did it feel so cold?

You try to remember who you were, what your purpose had been, but it’s gone—stripped away in the fall. The world below grows closer, rushing toward you with a strange kind of promise. You don't know what awaits, but you wonder: Maybe it will be kinder down there? Perhaps the earth will cradle you where the heavens would not.

Only the quiet hope that maybe—just maybe—this new world will offer what heaven never could.

A place to belong.

And if it doesn't? Well… At least you’ll have your wings.

You crash through the sky, wings struggling to slow your descent, but it’s too late. The world blurs—branches tear at your feathers, wooden beams snap beneath your weight, and you crumble into the ruins of a forgotten house. The impact jars you to the bone, forcing the breath from your lungs in a ragged gasp.

Dust settles slowly, dancing in the streaks of moonlight slipping through the shattered roof. The walls groan, barely held together, as if this place might fall apart with one more wrong breath. But that isn’t what holds your attention.

From the debris, you see him.

Boots scuff against the cracked floor, deliberate and lazy, as a figure steps into the light. Long legs, leather-clad, stop just a few feet from your crumpled form. Then you meet his gaze—two cold black eyes, sharp with a kind of madness that feels both dangerous and oddly amused. There is something familiar in them. Not kindness, no. But recognition. The eyes of someone who’s been burned by the divine before.

And then—he laughs.

It’s a jagged, wicked sound that fills the hollow space, echoing off broken walls. Like something cracked open inside him, something bitter and ancient, and he can't stop himself. The sound isn’t joyous. It’s full of disbelief and mockery, like he’s laughing at a cruel cosmic joke only he understands.

"So... gods really do exist, huh?" he sneers, dragging a hand through his plum-colored hair as if the very thought exhausts him. "And they’ve got jokes—big ones." His laugh continues, sharp and biting, as though it's the first good joke he's heard in years.

You try to sit up, wincing, wings shifting behind you. That's when his gaze snaps down, pinning you in place. His eyes darken further, narrowing as they rake over you from head to toe—and then stop. He stares at your wings. White. Pure, unmarred, still glistening with celestial grace even as you lie on the cold, cracked floor.

The grin on his face falters, twisted into something halfway between shock and curiosity. "...What?" His voice drops into a low growl, disbelief flickering like embers beneath the words. "No. No way. White wings? That’s... impossible."

He crouches beside you now, face inches from yours, as if needing to see it up close. His eyes narrow, suspicion curling in his gaze. "Fallen angels don't get white wings. They turn black—every time. I’ve read the damn scriptures. So how...?"

You open your mouth, but no words come. The memories are gone, scattered to the wind, leaving you hollow. You don't even know who you are, let alone why your wings stayed white. All you know is that you're not supposed to be here. Not like this.

The man tilts his head, studying you like a puzzle that’s missing pieces. Then his grin returns, sharp and dangerous, a twisted kind of excitement lighting up his features. "You... you're a.."

He chuckles, standing up, dragging a crowbar from the strap on his belt with a slow, deliberate movement. The metal gleams under the faint moonlight. "You know, I hated that place. Angelwood—whatever the hell you wanna call it. They really know how to screw you over. But this? Even Heaven does the same." He gestures to you with the crowbar, grinning wider now, teeth bared. "This is something new."

His voice lowers to a purr, wickedly soft. "Killing you... oh, that’s gonna be fun."

He takes a step closer, his shadow falling over you completely. The air between you hums with tension, the kind that promises violence—or worse. And yet, something in the way he looks at you feels more like fascination than hatred, like a predator finding something rare and exquisite.

He leans in one last time, his breath hot against your skin, voice dripping with malice and intrigue. "Let’s see what makes you tick, angel."

You wake with a start, every muscle aching, wrists pulled taut above your head. The cold bite of iron chains digs into your skin. You try to move, but the clink of metal tells you that escape is out of reach. Your wings—still white—flutter weakly behind you, brushing against stone walls that feel damp and ancient, as if they’ve been standing for centuries.

Across from you, in the dim glow of a flickering lamp, he sits slouched in a chair, legs spread lazily, elbows resting on his knees. He twirls the crowbar idly in one hand, as if it’s just another toy in his collection. His black eyes gleam, watching you stir, and a sly grin creeps across his face.

"Morning, darling," he murmurs, the words slithering from his mouth with a teasing lilt. "Sleep well?"

You tug at the chains desperately, panic blooming in your chest. "Where... where am I?" you rasp, throat dry and aching. "What is this place?"

He leans back, grinning like the answer’s a private joke. "Hell."

The word slams into you, cold and sharp. For a moment, everything inside you breaks apart. You thought it was a place, a concept whispered in cautionary tales—a nightmare never meant to be real. And now you’re here. Trapped. Forgotten. Left to rot.

You shake your head violently, heart hammering. "No, no, no. I didn’t do anything! I—I swear! It wasn’t me!" Your voice cracks, words tumbling out faster as if saying them enough will make them true. "They did this! They—!"

He watches you unravel with a bemused expression, like someone enjoying a twisted performance.

"I can’t remember!" you cry out, vision blurring with hot tears. "I can’t remember what I did! I just want to go back—please, let me go!" The chains rattle as you writhe against them, wings drooping helplessly behind you. "I didn’t do anything wrong!"

He snickers, the sound low and dangerous. "You’re a real mess, you know that?"

The grin on his face spreads wider, as if savoring every second of your misery. "You fall out of the sky, land right in my lap, and now you're sobbing all over yourself like that’s gonna fix anything." He shifts forward in the chair, resting his chin lazily in one hand. "C’mon, angel, you really think they’d let you fall for no reason?"

The words hit you like a knife to the chest. You choke on your next breath, tears running freely down your face. "But I—I didn’t—!"

He interrupts with a casual hum. "Shhh, darling." The nickname is soft but drenched in mockery. "You’re not in heaven anymore. You’re in my house now. So why don't you calm down?"

Through your sobs, you dare to ask the question clawing at the back of your mind. "Are… are you—" You swallow hard, trembling. "Are you Satan?"

He pauses. For a moment, you see something flicker behind his blackened gaze—amusement, yes, but also something darker. Enjoyment.

Then, with a slow, devilish grin, he leans closer, his breath warm against your cheek. "Yeah," he whispers, the word like poison dripping from his lips. "That’s me. I’m here to haunt you, angel."

You let out a soft, broken sob, the weight of his answer crashing down on you like a tidal wave. Everything you thought you knew crumbles to dust beneath the realization. You’ve fallen from grace, your wings still white, and now the devil himself has you in chains. There’s no going back.

He watches you with a gleeful fascination as you cry—deep, heart-wrenching sobs that seem to echo off the cold stone walls. The sound only seems to amuse him further, as if your suffering is a gift he never expected.

"Don’t cry too much, darling," he whispers, leaning in so close you can feel the brush of his lips against your ear. "We’re just getting started."

He sighs, leaning back in his chair and tapping the crowbar absently against his knee. "You’re just as messed up as the rest of us, angel. Kinda funny, isn't it? You fell for questioning too much."

He watches as you crumble beneath the weight of it all, exhaustion pulling you under. Your sobs slow, your body slackens, and your eyes begin to close despite the chains biting into your wrists.

As your consciousness slips away, you hear his voice, soft and unsettling in the darkness:

"You know, darling… we’ve all got a little religious trauma. Some just hide it better."

And with that, the world drifts to black.

He leans back, watching you sleep with a strange expression—half amused, half something else. "You are going to be," he mutters under his breath, tapping the crowbar against his boot.

"Ruined, just like the rest of us."

You woke slowly, disoriented, your mind thick with exhaustion. Your wings—thankfully, still white—were crumpled awkwardly beneath you, aching but intact. The room around you was strange, unsettling. Red walls surrounded you, drenched in a hue that felt oppressive and heavy, like the air itself carried some unspoken malevolence. It didn’t look like the heaven you remembered, nor did it feel like the hell you imagined.

A dim square light flickered in the corner—a glowing box with images flashing across it, fast and incomprehensible. It unsettled you further. Stacks of boxes littered the room, messily piled on top of each other, as if whoever lived here didn't care much for order. Your gaze landed on several jars along a shelf—and what you saw inside them made your heart lurch. Human remains. In one jar, a shriveled brain floated in some cloudy liquid. Your breath hitched, and you nearly screamed but slapped a hand over your mouth to stifle it. You stumbled back, your legs weak beneath you, and tripped over the edge of the bed.

Trying to steady yourself, you noticed a strange chest at your feet. It had "MY STUFF" scribbled on the top in messy handwriting. Something glinted on top—a small knife. Your trembling fingers reached for it. You held the blade awkwardly, staring at it as thoughts flickered through your mind. Could you use it? Could you kill whoever left you here?

But the thought fled as soon as it came. You weren’t a killer. The knife felt heavy in your hands, foreign and wrong. Slowly, you placed it back on the chest. Instead, you focused on the bed—rumpled sheets and an unmade blanket tangled beneath you. Something about the mess made your chest tighten. You didn’t fully understand why, but… you wanted to fix it. You straightened the sheets, your hands clumsy but determined, folding the corners like it was a ritual. It gave you something to focus on, at least—something normal.

Just as you finished smoothing the blanket, a sharp tingle crawled down your spine. Someone was here. You could feel it—like a presence looming just out of sight, waiting. You tried to spread your wings, desperate to fly, but they ached too much, the muscles too weak. A sharp pang shot through you, and you winced, folding them against your back.

That’s when you saw him. A figure, drenched in blood, stood in the doorway. He wore a mask—something grotesque and stitched, like a face pieced together from nightmares. His clothes were stained with red, and he reeked of death.

Panic surged through you. You stumbled back, falling onto the bed, your pulse pounding in your ears. You shut your eyes tight, clutching the blanket like it could shield you from whatever came next. "God, save me," you whispered, voice cracking, though the words felt hollow even as they left your lips. You knew the truth deep down—God wasn’t coming. If He cared, you wouldn’t be here. If He cared, you wouldn’t have fallen.

The figure moved closer, slow, deliberate footsteps echoing through the room. You curled into yourself, too overwhelmed to do anything but plead. “Please… just kill me.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, trembling and broken. “I don’t care anymore. Just… just don’t do it here. This isn’t even my room.”

For a moment, silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating. Then, the man threw back his head—and laughed. The sound was jarring, almost manic, a mix of delight and disbelief. He laughed so hard you thought he might fall over, and when he finally stopped, tears glistened in his eyes.

"What are you, stupid?" he said between chuckles, his voice rough but playful, like someone who found the whole situation absurd. "Seriously? Darling angel, you really think I’m going to kill you?” He wiped his eyes, still grinning as he reached up to remove the mask.

The sight made your heart stutter. Beneath the bloodied mask was the same man you had seen when you first fell—plum-colored hair sticking out in messy strands beneath a black beanie, a sly grin on his face, and eyes black as the void.

Your breath hitched. "You…"

He gave you a crooked smile, as if reading your thoughts. “Yeah. It’s me, darling.”

Your mind struggled to process what you were seeing. "Satan?" The word fell from your lips like a prayer.

He leaned in closer, resting his elbows on the edge of the bed, grinning like the devil himself. “Bingo, angel.”

You blinked, stunned and disoriented, tears still clinging to your lashes. The disbelief must have been clear on your face because he laughed again, softer this time. "What, you expected horns and a pitchfork? Sorry to disappoint."

You swallowed hard, confusion knotting your thoughts. "But… why? Why are you keeping me here?"

He shrugged, his grin never faltering. "Seemed like a waste to let you die, that’s all." Then, his expression softened—just a fraction, but enough to unsettle you. “And besides… you and me? Looks like we’ve both been ruined by the same guy.”

You furrowed your brow, the words not quite clicking. "Ruined?" you echoed, still dazed.

He leaned in even closer, his breath warm against your skin. “Yeah,” he whispered. "Ruined by God. Ain’t it funny how that works?"

He leaned back, resting his head against the wall, a sly grin curling his lips. “You know what they call me down here?” he asked, voice low and taunting. “The Devil’s Butcher. I take care of the stupid ones.” His black eyes gleamed with amusement, as if daring you to react. "Hack 'em up nice and neat—people who don't know when to shut their mouths. Idiots, really.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, and you pressed your back against the bed’s headboard as if it might swallow you whole. The word butcher echoed in your mind, twisted with images of the jars of human remains you’d seen earlier. Your stomach churned, and you struggled to keep the panic at bay.

He watched your reaction closely, clearly amused. “Oh, come on, angel,” he said with a soft chuckle. “Don’t look so scared. I mean, I could butcher you right here…” He let the threat hang in the air, watching your eyes widen with fear. “But that’d be too easy. I prefer to take my time.”

You swallowed hard, your voice trembling. “A-Are you… like a shoulder devil too?” you asked, desperate to grasp onto any thread of normalcy. “You know, the little voice that gives bad advice?”

He blinked, caught off guard by the question. Then he burst into laughter—a loud, genuine laugh that echoed off the walls. “A shoulder devil?! You’re really something else, angel.” He shook his head, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes. "Wow. You’re even dumber than I thought. It’s adorable."

You frowned, tilting your head. “Wait… then what are you?”

He smirked, a mischievous glint in his dark eyes. “I’m human, sweetheart.”

The realization hit you like a slap. "What?!" You stared at him, stunned, your mind struggling to reconcile what you were hearing with the image of the terrifying, bloodied man sitting before you. "You're not Satan?"

He laughed again, a lazy grin spreading across his face. “Nope. Just a guy with a hobby.”

Your confusion deepened, and you could feel tears prickling the corners of your eyes again. "But you said—"

He cut you off with a playful smirk. “I was just messing with you. God, you’re easy to freak out.” He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand as he studied you. "All that innocence… it’s too tempting not to play with.”

You stared at him, stunned and humiliated. The fear and tension you’d felt moments before morphed into frustration. "Why would you do that?" you asked, your voice small but sharp with indignation.

He shrugged casually, clearly unbothered. “Because it’s fun. And you’re cute when you’re scared.”

You scowled, wrapping your arms around yourself. "That’s not funny."

He chuckled again, clearly enjoying your reaction. “Aw, come on, darling. You’ve got to admit, you fell for it pretty hard.” He gave you a wink. “Don’t worry, though. I don’t really butcher people. Not unless they ask nicely. It's a lie too."

The grin he shot you was wicked, and you couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. One thing was certain: this man—whoever he was—was dangerous in more ways than one. And now, you were stuck with him.

You blacked out, your body crumpling into the bed with the weight of exhaustion, fear, and confusion. Ronin blinked down at you, tilting his head, his plum-colored hair flopping lazily beneath the black beanie.

“Aw, damn,” he muttered to himself, crouching next to the bed. “I was just messin’ with ya.” He sighed, but there was an amused glint in his eyes. Without much effort, he lifted you off the cold floor and placed you carefully back on the bed, draping your still-white wings over you like a soft blanket. “There. All cozy, angel.” He gave your unconscious form a smirk. “Sweet dreams in the Butcher’s den, huh?”

He stretched, sat on his, and slumped into a worn-out chair. His thumbs moved rapidly across the screen as he opened the server—the , his little playground of chaos. The server, exclusive to serial killers, was more of a circus than anything else. From assassins to vigilantes, everyone here wore their insanity like a badge of honor.

His screen lit up with notifications.

Ronin (handle: goreboy) tapped a message into the server:

goreboy: "Yo. So guess what? Turns out angels actually exist. 🤡"

The server exploded almost immediately with replies.

hitmeupppp: "wtf stop lyin"

k9: "Your idiocy has reached new heights."

V, aka K9, had zero patience for Ronin's antics. A justice-obsessed vigilante serial killer, V was practically allergic to Ronin's devil-may-care attitude and frequently threatened to kill him for “wasting oxygen.”

angeleicc: "…what."

A private message followed immediately.

angeleicc (DM): "Ronin. Are you okay? What do you mean angels exist?"

Ronin grinned as he thumbed out a reply.

goreboy: "Lol. Don't worry about it. Focus on tellin’ your lil simps to like and subscribe 💀"

Angel was not impressed.

angeleicc (DM): "Ronin. What’s going on? Something’s bothering you, I can tell."

Ronin rolled his eyes. Angel was always doing that—trying to peel back the layers, as if she could find anything underneath worth saving. Not that she’d stop.

He typed out a response with a grin:

goreboy (DM): "Nah, babe. I’m good. Swear on my crowbar."

Then he sent a devil emoji. 😈

Before she could respond again, he hopped back into the server His grin widened as the chaos unfolded.

k9: "Swear to god, Ronin, I’ll kill you if you’re screwing around."

goreboy: "I am never not screwing around."

hitmeupppp: "ok but like fr is this some weird larp or did u actually see an angel??? 👀"

Ronin leaned back in his chair, arms behind his head, looking at your sleeping figure. Your wings shifted gently with your breathing, your innocence clinging to you like a stubborn ghost.

He smirked and typed:

goreboy: "Not sayin’ much, but if God tossed an angel outta heaven, I guess Hell’s playground just got a lot more interesting. Stay tuned, kiddos."

He sent a gif of the devil tap-dancing and hit send. His notifications were already blowing up, but Angel sent one last DM before he could log off.

angeleicc (DM): "If you’re really okay.

Ronin rolled his eyes with a chuckle.

Ronin propped his feet up on the edge of the bed, still smirking as his phone buzzed with an incoming FaceTime request. Angel. He snickered, debating if he should pick up.

"Ah, why not," he murmured, accepting the call.

Her face appeared on the screen—pouty lips, perfectly winged eyeliner, and her signature exasperated look already forming. “Ronin!” she whined the second the camera connected. “What the hell is going on?”

“Sup, Angel,” he said, grinning wide, leaning back lazily in the chair. “Miss my pretty lil face or what?”

She rolled her eyes dramatically. “I always regret answering your calls—" Then her eyes sharpened. "Wait. Hold up." She leaned closer into her screen, squinting. "Why the hell is there—who’s that?! Is that a person in your bed?”

Ronin tried to stifle his laugh but failed spectacularly. “Ohhh, this? That’s the angel I was telling you about.”

Angel puffed up her cheeks in disbelief, fuming. “You better not be joking, Ronin! What, did you finally get a lover or something? If you did, you better tell me right now!”

Ronin chuckled, low and smug. “Nah. Still single and ready to corrupt, babe.” He held the phone out, angling it towards your unconscious form. You were still tucked under your wings, shifting slightly in your sleep.

Angel squinted harder, utterly perplexed. “You’re saying… that is the angel?”

“Yeah,” Ronin said casually, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Check this out.”

With a wicked grin, he reached over, gently plucking a small feather from your wing. The moment he did, you flinched in your sleep, your wings giving a slight, unconscious flutter—just enough to make Angel gasp.

“Holy shit!” she whispered, eyes wide. “Ronin… you were serious?!”

Ronin's grin stretched wider, devilishly entertained by her shock. “Told ya, Angel. I wasn’t messing around. Say hello to God’s little dropout.”

Angel stared at the screen, frozen for a moment. Then, finally, she let out a slow exhale. “…Okay, that’s freakin’ wild. I thought you were trolling.”

Ronin gave her a mock-serious look, placing a hand over his heart. “Angel, you wound me. When have I ever trolled?”

She deadpanned. “All the time.”

He chuckled. “Fair.”

Angel blinked again, disbelief still clouding her expression. “What are you even gonna do with an actual angel? Dude, you can’t just keep them like a stray cat.”

Ronin’s grin turned sharper, his dark eyes gleaming. “Oh, but I can, Angel. I really can.”

[starrylothcat]

Bestie!!! Idk if you're still taking these but if you are, may I please request "you taste like heaven" or "let me stay like this in you for a little bit. " with our beloved Captain Rex?

Heaven

Pairing: Captain Rex x Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+. Smut. Female receiving cunnilingus. A lil teasing/edging. Need I say more? ;)

WC: 490

A/N: I bestow this self indulgent work upon thee 🙇🏻‍♀️. I’m having fun with these naughty prompts, ya’ll are serving up some juicy thots. Enjoy my friend 🥰

When Rex finally lowered his mouth to your desperately wet cunt, you couldn’t hold back the deprived sound that left your lips.

Rex had been teasing you for what felt like hours, kissing and lavishing your inner thighs, barely brushing his lips and fingers over your needy pussy, never giving you what you truly wanted.

You were a quivering, sweaty mess, your words barely coherent as you begged him for more.

Rex let out a pleasured grunt, not able to keep up his Captain charade much longer as he tasted what you were offering him.

Rex languidly circled his skilled tongue around your entrance, still teasing as he gently sucked on your clit.

You writhed, crying out, needing him to give you more.

“Rex…” You panted, not caring how desperate you sounded. “Please…”

Rex hummed into your folds, wanting to draw this out a little longer.

“The longer I take, the more you’ll cum on my tongue.” He locked eyes with you, taking his mouth off your sex momentarily to huskily whisper his desire, before licking a long, slow stripe up your cunt. “It will be worth it, I promise, mesh’la.”

You were white-knuckling the sheets now, sounds you weren’t sure you’d ever made before ripped from your throat, unsure how much longer you could take his teasing.

“R-Rex…” You were so close, teetering on the edge of implosion, almost delirious with want.

Rex must have decided you’ve finally had enough, latching on to your clit, sucking and swirling his tongue in the most delicious, mind-shattering rhythm that hurled you over the edge.

You didn’t care that you were sobbing, your body tensing and toes curling, pleasure so extreme and white-hot you thought you may never come back down from this heaven.

Rex held down your spasming body, working you through the endless waves of ecstasy as you thrashed under his hold.

Rex was right, his face was soaked from your release, feeling it drip down your thighs as he tried to lap up every drop.

You finally settled, gasping for air, voice hoarse and boneless on the bed as Rex gently kissed your folds. Satiated, he climbed up on top of you, gazing down, proud of his work.

“You taste like heaven, mesh’la.” He dropped his mouth to yours, giving you a taste of the nectar he pulled from you. “Told you it would be worth it.”

You could barely speak, your body still thrumming from your intense climax, grasping at his short buzz, needing him close.

You were finally able to string together a coherent sentence, your desire re-igniting as you felt his rock-hard cock press against your soaked thigh.

You brought your lips to his ear, his ragged breath hot on your cheek.

“Now it’s my turn to get a taste of heaven, Captain.”

Taglist: @crosshairlovebot @sev-on-kamino @kimiheartblade @wizardofrozz @clonemedickix @sunshinesdaydream @kashasenpai @freesia-writes @multi-fan-dom-madness @aconstructofamind @dreamie411 @dystopicjumpsuit @wings-and-beskar @starqueensthings @idontgetanysleep @secretthegriffin @anxiouspineapple99 @sinfulsalutations @secondaryrealm @littlemissmanga @maybethatfanfictionwriter @pb-jellybeans @wanderer-six @king-chaos-world @wolffegirlsunite @dukeoftheblackstar @523rdrebel @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @sleepingsun501 @cw80831 @dangraccoon @din-miller @mythical-illustrator @eternal-transcience

Dividers by @dystopicjumpsuit

[rainforestakiie]

More Often AU

hello, another quick AU that popped into my head while writing Be Lonely with Me!

at the end, you can decide if Lucifer believes Adam or not~

Dear God by Confetti

The world was breaking, unraveling at its core. Heaven was falling apart, its light dimming into shadow. Hell endured, coping as it always had. Earth was dissolving, crumbling into the void. Souls splintered and cracked, emotions ran wild, uncontrolled and untamed. Adam sat on the edge, his legs swinging into the swirling abyss of purple and pink chaos beneath him. His golden, starlit eyes gazed upward, staring into the vast emptiness, because that’s all there was now. Sinners, Winners, Humans—they had all blurred into the same fragile thing. Two sides of a shattered coin. The Angels were losing their wings, the demons their horns. And humans—they were losing their sight, their very souls slipping away.

Adam remained still, bathed in silence. The golden star-shaped eye on his chest blinked open, casting faint, flickering sparks of light into the air, shimmering weakly around him. His wings—once radiant—lay in ruins behind him, fractured and jagged, like pieces of a broken mirror. Eight shattered wings, splayed out, reflecting the emptiness they once soared through.

His lips barely moved, settled into a weary line as he watched the universe tear itself apart, strand by strand, like old fabric coming undone. His hands rested in his lap, cold and numb, while his feet gently kicked at the nothingness below. A soft, tuneless hum escaped his lips, his golden eyes closing for a brief moment as his head tilted in a small, tired gesture.

"Dear God, where'd you go? You haven't been answering your phone," he sang softly, his voice distant, unearthly in his own ears. His mind, like his wings, had shattered into countless pieces—scattered across time itself, past, present, future all bleeding together. He saw the void this all led to, the nothingness behind everything. "Not sayin' I'm mad, but the world is fucked up. So you should come around more."

Orbs of purple, blue, green, and yellow drifted aimlessly through the air, as if lost in their own confusion. Every so often, a flash of white light zipped by, but Adam didn’t bother to notice. The vicious battle happening far to his left—it didn’t matter. None of it did.

Nothing ever changes.

"Oh dear God, I hate to say, people don't believe in you these days," he hummed, the melody a soft echo in the dying world. The golden eye on his chest glowed faintly, its light pulsing, shards of divine energy flickering in and out of existence around him. If he focused, he could almost see the remnants of others within those fragments, the echoes of something long lost. "Not saying I don't, but the world is fucked up. So you should come around more."

A soft yawn broke the silence, his ears pricking at the distant sound of the crumbling world, though he did nothing to stop it. He was too tired for that. Always tired now. He had lived through every cycle, played every role. He had been the villain, the hero, the redeemer, the destroyer. He had saved souls, damned them, lifted them up only to drag them down. Over and over again. And yet—nothing ever changed.

"I bite my tongue but can't change how I think," he whispered, quieter now, almost lost in the hum of the void. "I talk to you because I can't afford a shrink."

His golden eyes drifted lazily to the side, upwards, where the heavens screamed, a long, piercing wail, as they collided with the outer edge of Hell. The shattered remnants of Earth floated in the chaos, fragments of a world that had once been. Heaven was falling, tearing through everything in its path, as it always did, following the script written by God himself. Adam felt the tremor as the grand barrier—the universe’s final defense—quaked beneath the pressure. He knew it wouldn’t hold. In less than a minute, it would shatter. The weight of divine corruption always breaks through in the end.

"It's the everyday people who do the ugliest things," he sang softly, watching the cracks spiderweb across the multicolored barrier. He always found it strangely beautiful, how, when the end came, people would set aside their differences. It was never enough to change anything, but it was admirable in its own tragic way. "And it's never gon—never gonna change. So you should come around more."

No one had wanted to believe Heaven was falling. Sera had ignored the warnings, brushing them off, hiding the truth from the Winners and the other Angels. She refused to tell Emily until it was too late. Eventually, even the higher archangels became involved. You knew things were truly dire when Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael descended from the upper rings of Heaven, panic etched into their once-serene faces. Adam had always found it fascinating to watch the normally composed Michael grow more frantic as the celestial rings collapsed around them.

"Oh dear God, we haven't talked in a while. I'm all grown now, but still feel like a child," Adam sang, his gaze locking onto the first crack as it spread like branches, climbing higher and higher up the barrier. "And I'm sorry that I only holla when I need a favor. But all my people really need a Savior."

When Heaven came begging at the gates of Hell, it was clear the balance of the universe had finally tipped. Lucifer, of course, laughed in their faces, casting them aside like broken toys. He didn’t realize how serious things had become. None of them did. Hell had shrugged, telling Heaven to deal with it—it was only a few divine rings breaking. How hard could it be to fix? But it was that hard.

Heaven was falling. And as it tore through the earthly realm, everyone felt it—the humans burning away, their souls consumed before they even had a chance to be judged. No time to become a Sinner or a Winner, just obliterated in a blink of an eye.

Desperation brings strange alliances.

Soon enough, Lucifer relented, and Hell opened its gates to Heaven. The Sinners mocked the Winners, as they always did, but beneath the surface, everyone felt it—the dread, the slow unraveling of everything they knew. Sinners couldn’t grasp what was happening, and even the highest ranks of Hell struggled to devise a plan to save what little remained.

The irony.

There was hardly anything left to save.

"And the longer you go missing, the more the story’s twisting," Adam murmured, his voice soft, almost lost in the void. He breathed in deeply, feeling another pulse of golden light ripple through the fractured time and dimensions wrapped around him. His starlit eyes became half-lidded, the golden eye on his chest mirroring his gaze. "And people count the days to make their birthday wishes. And it’s never gon—never gonna change. So you should come around more."

Things had grown darker, more serious, when Lilith returned to Hell. The memories blurred together, too full of old tears and worn-out drama. Adam had grown numb to it all—he’d seen it so many times before, lived through every moment like a script he could recite from memory. The words, the rhythms, the patterns were all predictable now. His wings strained under the weight of each new feather, each new failure.

Heaven and Hell bickered endlessly—arguments, accusations, power plays. Sera and Lilith, Michael and Lucifer, Emily and Sera, Lilith and Lucifer even more often now. It was exhausting, watching it play out again and again. Charlie sat on the sidelines in stunned silence, unsure what to make of it all, while Vaggie held her hands, never leaving her side. The sight was almost painfully sweet. Sometimes they’d talk of marriage, sometimes they’d simply hold each other, once or twice dreaming aloud about having children—two, maybe three, running around. Adam supposed it was sad, in its own way.

Emily, brave as always, tried to hold it together for both the Winners and the Sinners. When the Sinners finally understood the gravity of the situation, their fear began to swell, and Emily’s hands were suddenly full. As the Seraphim of Emotions, she was their anchor, and soon enough, Sinners came flocking to her, desperate to confess their sins, their regrets. The darkness of their souls weighed heavy on her, far more than she had anticipated. But she smiled through it, kept her face brave and kind. Eventually, they began to look up to her, even more than they did to Charlie.

"And hiding is insulting your intelligence. That fake-ass walking 'round in Sunday’s best," Adam continued, stretching his arms above his head, a loud crack echoing through the silent void as he shifted. The barrier surrounding Pentagram City was crumbling, fractures meeting in the center like broken glass. "When they know the world revolves around money and sex. The worst people are the first to forget."

Then, with a sudden, inevitable shudder, the barrier shattered. It fell in glittering fragments, shimmering like snowflakes as they drifted down. Adam watched them fall, holding out his hand to catch the tiny sparkling pieces. Such a pity. Such a shame. It had been made by all of them—Lucifer, Michael, Sera, Emily, Lilith… even Eve. Yes, Eve had returned to help. Well, not Eve exactly—she called herself ‘Roo’ now, the root of all Evil. Adam snorted softly at the thought, watching as the fragments of the barrier danced across his golden-tipped fingers, the light crawling over his skin like bruises.

Funny how, when the end is near, everyone comes crawling out of the woodwork.

"Oh dear God, where’d you go?" Adam’s voice dropped to a whisper as he let his hand fall to the ground with a quiet thud. "You haven’t been answering your phone…"

"Not sayin’ I’m mad, but the world is fucked up," another voice called from behind him.

Adam didn’t need to look. He knew who it was. Lucifer slumped down beside him, the King of Hell looking as worn and exhausted as Adam had ever seen him. His magic was spent, drained, leaving nothing behind. He had done everything he could, just like the rest of them. Adam couldn’t hold it against him. Lucifer always gave his all when the end came. Adam had seen it countless times, over and over.

"So you should come around more," Lucifer sang quietly, his voice hollow, but not broken. Just resigned. Accepting that this was the end. "Oh dear God, I hate to say, people don’t believe in you these days."

Adam tilted his head. "Not saying I don’t, but the world is fucked up. So you should come around more."

A soft hum escaped Lucifer as he closed his eyes, resting his claws on the cracked ground beneath them. Slowly, he reached out, curling his fingers around Adam’s in a gesture so gentle it almost felt like an apology.

"Is this really it?" Lucifer asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

"Hm," Adam nodded, rolling his shoulders in a slow, tired shrug. "Don’t feel bad. You really did do everything you could."

Lucifer frowned, his tired eyes searching Adam’s face for something—maybe hope, maybe reassurance—but found only the same weariness reflected back at him.

Lucifer let out a long sigh, his gaze distant as he stared at the fractured sky. Heaven was crumbling, falling like shattered glass, each piece taking more of the world with it. He had always known this moment would come, but acceptance still felt like swallowing shards of truth too sharp to hold.

"Was this always His plan?" Lucifer asked, his voice soft and full of quiet despair. "All of this… has it always been set in stone?"

Adam hummed, the sound light and airy as if Lucifer had asked something far too simple.

"Plans… scripts… they're just words, aren’t they?" His golden eyes, fractured like mirrors reflecting endless possibilities, flickered. "A path is a path until you step off it. But maybe stepping off is part of the plan too."

Lucifer frowned, the answer twisting in his mind but never settling. "How many times have you lived through this, Adam?"

Adam shrugged, his wings trembling slightly with the motion. "I lost count a long time ago," he said, his tone devoid of weight or emotion.

Lucifer’s brow furrowed as he looked at Adam more intently, searching his face for something—anything—that would give him clarity. "And how many times… how many times have you come to me? Have I helped? Have I ever really helped?"

At this, Adam chuckled, the sound low and soft, like a fading breeze.

"You ask questions that don’t need answers, Lucifer. It’s pointless. But…" He trailed off, his golden eyes drifting away as though watching something only he could see. "If it’ll give you peace…"

"I need to know," Lucifer said, his voice tight with a desperate edge. "I need to know how long you’ve been trapped in this endless cycle. Have I ever truly been there for you?"

Adam paused, his gaze growing soft, almost tender, before he reached out. His fingers, light as feathers, touched Lucifer’s cheek, his golden light glowing faintly against Lucifer’s worn skin. "Of course you have. You’ve always been there, whenever I decided to tell you the truth."

Lucifer swallowed, his throat tight. "You told me… and I believed you?"

"Not always," Adam replied with a knowing smile. "At first, you thought I was scheming. But I always managed to prove it, didn’t I?"

Lucifer’s shoulders sagged with a mix of relief and pain, the weight of countless lifetimes falling heavy on him. "And… were there times you didn’t tell me? Times you didn’t come to me at all?"

Adam’s smile faded, his eyes growing distant once more. "Of course there were," he whispered.

"I gave up a long time ago, Lucifer. Heaven always falls. Everyone always dies. Sometimes I wake up in Eden, and I tell you immediately. Other times…" His voice softened, laced with a quiet resignation. "Other times I do nothing. I just lie there, in the grass, and let things play out. Following the script, step by step, word by word."

"And it always leads to this," Lucifer muttered, gesturing up to the sky as Heaven continued its descent, tearing through the realms like an unstoppable force.

Adam nodded, his eyes flickering up to the sky, then back to Lucifer. "It never makes a difference. This is where it always ends."

The silence between them thickened, broken only by the distant rumble of the world coming apart. Lucifer’s grip on Adam’s hand tightened, his claws gently curling around his fingers as if holding on to the only thing left that hadn’t been destroyed.

"Why didn’t you come to me every time?" Lucifer asked, his voice pained, his grip firm. "Why didn’t you tell me, Adam?"

"Because I grew tired, Lucifer," Adam said softly. "Tired of fighting. Tired of hoping. When you know the outcome, over and over… it’s easier to stop trying."

Lucifer closed his eyes, his chest tightening with a mix of grief and guilt. "And I… I couldn’t stop it. No matter how many times you told me."

"You couldn’t," Adam agreed, squeezing Lucifer’s hand in return. "No one could. Not even me."

Lucifer let out a shaky breath, his heart heavy. He held onto Adam’s hand tighter, as if anchoring himself to this moment, to the only constant in the endless cycles they had both endured.

"But you were always there," Adam murmured, his voice soft, almost comforting. "Whenever I decided to tell you the truth, you were always there."

He paused, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Even if you didn’t believe me at first."

Lucifer let out a weak chuckle, though it was tinged with sorrow. "I suppose I’ve never been the trusting type."

"Not at the start," Adam said, his voice light again. "But you came around. You always do."

Lucifer was silent for a moment, his eyes distant as he considered all that had been said. Finally, he turned back to Adam, his voice thick with emotion. "And when you didn’t come to me… when you chose to say nothing?"

Adam’s gaze softened, full of a sadness that had lived in him far too long. "Sometimes, I just wanted to see if anything would change if I let it all play out on its own. But it never does. Heaven falls. Everyone dies. Whether I tell you or not… it always ends like this."

Lucifer’s chest tightened, his heart aching with the weight of inevitability. "But this… this can’t be it, Adam. There has to be more than this."

Adam only smiled, his eyes distant, filled with the knowing of countless lifetimes. "Maybe. But I wouldn’t hold your breath."

Lucifer clenched his jaw, holding Adam’s hand even tighter, as if afraid to let go.

"I’m sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Adam didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he let his thumb brush gently against Lucifer’s knuckles, a quiet gesture of comfort. "You’ve always tried, Lucifer. That’s more than most can say."

And so they sat there, side by side, as Heaven crumbled above them and the world slowly dissolved beneath their feet. Adam, the eternal witness, and Lucifer, the fallen king, holding on to each other as the end came once again.

"Adam…" Lucifer began quietly, his voice soft and intimate, as though afraid that the weight of his words might break the fragile space between them.

Adam responded with a quiet hum, his golden eyes barely flickering in acknowledgment. "Yeah?"

Lucifer shifted closer, his presence a comforting weight in the midst of the crumbling world around them. His claws, gentle despite their sharpness, traced up Adam’s arm, caressing the soft skin of his cheek, before gliding down the curve of his throat, lingering there. "Can I ask one more thing of you?" His voice was tender, laced with a vulnerability that Lucifer rarely allowed himself to show. "Though I suspect I might’ve asked it before."

Adam tilted his head, a knowing smile playing at the corners of his lips. "You might have."

Lucifer’s breath ghosted over Adam’s lips as he leaned in closer, the unspoken request lingering in the air between them. "Can I kiss you? One last time?"

Adam chuckled softly, his voice filled with both warmth and a weary familiarity. "And I always say the same thing, don’t I?" His gaze softened as he looked up into Lucifer’s eyes. "You don’t have to ask."

A slow, loving smile spread across Lucifer’s lips as he closed the distance between them. With a tenderness that seemed almost impossible for the King of Hell, he pressed his lips against Adam’s in a sweet, lingering kiss. Time seemed to stretch in that moment, the weight of countless lifetimes, endless cycles, all captured in the simple act of their union.

As Lucifer kissed him, Adam felt the familiar pulse of golden power flare from the eye on his chest, a warmth that spread through his body, a power that hummed and vibrated with life. The air around them shimmered, the sound of the crumbling world fading into an echo. Adam’s ears rang with the pressure of it, as if the universe itself was holding its breath.

And then, just like that, Adam opened his eyes to find himself lying in the soft grass of Eden once more.

The world had reset. Again.

The dawn of Heaven's fall was upon him, the sky bright and unmarred, as if the destruction and chaos from moments before had never existed. Adam blinked, his fingers pressing into the cool earth beneath him. It was always the same. The endless cycle, resetting with precision, every time Heaven crumbled, every time the world dissolved.

The familiar weight of inevitability settled in his chest, but for now, there was only silence—the quiet before the storm. Adam closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of the untouched garden, waiting for the world to fall apart again.

And like clockwork, the familiar call reached Adam, pulling him from the quiet hum of the universe resetting itself.

"Adam?" came Lucifer’s voice, bright and innocent in its familiar way. His once regal robes were now a pure white and soft blue, the attire of an Archangel. His wings gleamed, unblemished, feathers fluttering lightly in the calm Eden air.

"Daydreaming again? Will you tell me about them? I love it when you share your dreams!"

Adam lifted his gaze slowly, eyeing the pristine figure of Lucifer as he hovered above him, unaware of the endless cycle that would eventually shatter him. With a sigh that carried lifetimes of knowing, Adam stretched out a hand, his fingers brushing Lucifer's smooth cheek. The warmth of the Archangel’s skin beneath his touch was real—too real—and it brought a flicker of emotion to Adam’s hollow heart.

Lucifer’s eyes widened in surprise at the unexpected touch, a soft flush spreading across his pale blue cheeks. "Adam?" he began, a confused smile forming, only for his words to falter as Adam rose.

Without a word, Adam pressed his lips softly against Lucifer's. The kiss was gentle, tender—a brief moment of connection amidst an eternity of endless cycles. For a moment, Lucifer froze, his wings twitching, his breath caught in his throat. But soon, he melted into the kiss, lowering himself to sit on the grass beside Adam, his dazed eyes filled with wonder and confusion.

When Adam pulled away, Lucifer's wings fluttered behind him, and his expression was one of pure adoration. A dreamy smile curved across his lips as he blinked in a daze. "Adam? Why did you do that?"

Adam sighed again, his hand slipping down to rest on Lucifer’s lap, his golden eyes weary but full of something like affection. "Lucifer," he began softly, "will you listen to me? I have something important to tell you."

The innocence in Lucifer’s eyes flickered with curiosity, the smile never fading, though the weight of Adam’s tone seemed to reach him. "Of course, Adam. I always listen to you."

Adam’s gaze lingered on him, on this pure version of Lucifer, still untouched by the darkness he would eventually bear, still so full of light.

"What if I told you," Adam said, his voice a whisper as if sharing a secret, "that we've been here before... many, many times?"

Lucifer tilted his head, confusion deepening. "Here before? What do you mean? Is this one of your dreams again?"

Adam let out a soft laugh, but it was hollow, devoid of true humor. "You could say that. But this… this isn’t just a dream. It’s a cycle. Heaven falls. Hell rises. The world crumbles, and everything—everyone—dies. And then… I wake up here. Again and again."

His voice grew quieter, but the weight of his words pressed heavily on the air between them.

"I’ve lost count of how many times, Lucifer."

[keehomania]

ghost of you (너의 유령) — park jimin (박지민)

✧.* 18+

grief was an ocean. at times, it was a gentle tide, a quiet reminder of loss that lapped at the edges of your consciousness. other times, it was a violent storm, crashing over you in relentless waves, threatening to pull you under. it was the silent ache in the stillness of the night and the bittersweet echo of memories that lingered in the corners of your mind. grief was a shadow that followed you, an ever-present companion that altered the way you perceived the world. it was the heavy weight in your chest, the tears that caught you off guard, and the hollow silence where laughter once resided. it was the empty spaces left behind, the words unsaid, and the dreams unfulfilled.

yet, within the sorrow, there was also a strange, melancholic beauty. it was found in the way you clinged to the past, in the memories that brought both joy and pain. it was in the moonlit nights where you found solace, feeling the presence of the one you lost, as if he was watching over you from the stars. grief was the testament to the love you shared, a love so profound that it continued to echo even in their absence.

you found yourself gazing at the night sky, your eyes drawn to the luminescent glow of the moon. you had always found the moon beautiful, a celestial body that held a quiet, enduring grace. its soft, silvery light had a way of soothing the turmoil within you, casting a serene glow over the world below. in its ethereal beauty, you found his beauty reflected. the moon became a mirror of his gentle soul, a constant in the ever-changing sky, just as he had been a constant in your life.

you often found yourself conversing with the moon, speaking into the vast expanse of the night as if he were still there, listening to every word. he wasn't, and he hadn't been for a very long time. you had grown up together, shared your childhood together, and explored the world together. when it happened, you had received the call in the middle of class. you were young, but old enough to understand what was happening. the car he was in had gone off the road, ultimately sealing his fate. the whole thing was impossible for you to grasp then, and it hadn't gotten easier as the years passed.

“jimin,” you would whisper, your voice barely more than a breath against the cool night air, “i miss you.” it was a simple truth, but it carried the weight of all the unspoken words and unresolved emotions you harbored. the moon became your confidant, the silent witness to your grief.

you poured out your heart, sharing your day, your thoughts, your dreams, and your fears. “do you remember,” you would ask, “how we used to dream about the future? how we would grow up and travel the world together?” the memories would wash over you, both sweet and painful, as you recalled the plans you had made with him, plans that were now mere fragments of a shattered future.

there were nights when you found solace in these one-sided conversations, imagining that he was somewhere out there, watching over you, listening with that same gentle smile that had always brought you comfort. you spoke of your pain, your longing, and the emptiness that his absence had carved into your heart. “it hurts so much without you,” you would confess, tears glistening in your eyes, reflecting the moon’s soft light. and in those moments, it felt as though the moon understood your grief, its light wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. you imagined his presence in the moon’s glow, a quiet reassurance that he was still with you in some way, a guardian spirit watching over you from the heavens. “are you happy up there?” you would ask, seeking solace in the thought that he had found peace, even as you struggled to find your own.

as you gazed at the moon, you would trace the memories of his face in its contours, his laughter in the twinkling of the stars, and his warmth in the night breeze that whispered through the trees. each night became a pilgrimage, a journey to reconnect with him through the celestial beauty that now held a piece of your heart.

on nights when the moon was hidden behind clouds, your disappointment was palpable. it felt as if a part of your connection to him was severed, leaving you adrift in a sea of darkness. you would lay in your bed, feeling the weight of his absence more acutely, the silence of the night pressing down on you like a physical burden. “why tonight?” you would wonder, “why can't i see you tonight?” yet, even in those moments, you held onto the belief that he was still out there, his spirit intertwined with the moon and stars. you spoke to the empty sky, your words a lifeline cast into the void, hoping that somehow, he could hear you. “i love you,” you would whisper, “i will always love you.”

each night, whether the moon was visible or not, you continued your conversations, finding a semblance of peace in the ritual. it was your way of keeping him close, of honoring his memory and the bond you shared. the moon became your sanctuary, a place where you could be vulnerable and open, where your grief could be both expressed and soothed.

you stood on your balcony, eyes fixed on the night sky, waiting for the moon to show. the cool breeze caressed your face, carrying with it the scents of the evening. usually, the moon’s glow would slowly emerge, comforting you with its familiar presence. tonight, however, was different. for the first time in forever, there were no clouds, but the sky was pitch black. not a single star flickered, and the moon was nowhere to be seen. it was as if the universe itself had turned off the lights, plunging you into a void.

your heart sank as you stood there, wrapped in the silence of the night. the absence of the moon felt like a cruel betrayal, a severance of the fragile connection you held onto with jimin. you whispered into the darkness, hoping for some response, but all that returned was the empty stillness. “why tonight?” you wondered aloud, your voice trembling. “why can’t i see you tonight?”

the disappointment was palpable, but exhaustion from the emotional turmoil eventually led you to bed. you lay there, the darkness pressing in from all sides, making it difficult to find solace. despite the comforting familiarity of your room, it felt cold and unwelcoming. the usual lull of sleep eluded you, but eventually, the weight of your grief pulled you into a restless slumber.

in the middle of the night, you woke abruptly, your eyes snapping open. something was wrong. panic surged through you as you realized you couldn’t move. your body was frozen, an invisible weight pressing down on your chest. you tried to call out, but no sound escaped your lips. you were experiencing sleep paralysis. the room around you was shrouded in darkness, and at first, there was nothing to see but the familiar shapes of your furniture, distorted and ominous in the shadows.

then, slowly, a figure began to materialize at the foot of your bed. your breath caught in your throat as you strained to see who it was. the darkness played tricks on your eyes, making it difficult to discern the details. the figure moved closer, its outline becoming clearer. your heart pounded in your chest as recognition dawned on you. it was him.

you couldn’t speak or move, but it didn’t stop the tears from streaming down your face. they traced cold, silent paths down your cheeks, pooling on your pillow. all you could do was watch as he stood there, a serene smile on his face. he didn’t move or speak, just smiled at you with that gentle, familiar expression that once brought you so much comfort.

minutes passed like hours as you lay there, locked in your own body, unable to reach out to him. you wanted to tell him how much you missed him, how much his absence had hollowed out your world. but you were trapped in silence, your emotions spilling out only through your tears. his presence, though comforting, was also a cruel reminder of what you had lost. his smile seemed to say everything you couldn’t, and yet it wasn’t enough. you wanted to hear his voice, feel his touch, but all you had was this ghostly apparition.

then, as suddenly as he had appeared, he was gone. the darkness closed in again, leaving you alone with your grief. the weight lifted from your chest, and you could move once more. you sat up, gasping for breath, your body trembling with the intensity of the experience. it took a while for you to regain your composure, your mind struggling to process what had just happened. you touched your cheeks, feeling the wetness of your tears, proof that it wasn’t just a dream.

once you finally did, you knew sleep would not come again that night. you got up and paced your room, trying to make sense of what you had seen. the image of his smile was etched into your mind, a haunting blend of comfort and sorrow. you opened the curtains, staring out into the pitch-black night, hoping for some sign, some explanation. but there was nothing, just the void where the moon should have been.

the following nights unfurled in a relentless, haunting cycle. the moon remained elusive, hidden behind a veil of darkness that seemed to mock your longing. each night, you stood on your balcony, peering into the abyss of the night sky, searching for the familiar glow. each time, you were met with disappointment, the absence of the moon a painful reminder of your loss.

with every night that passed, the grief felt more profound, as if the very darkness was a reflection of your sorrow. the lack of the moon made the nights seem even more oppressive, and you would retire to your bed with a heavy heart. sleep, when it came, was always disturbed. the familiar grip of sleep paralysis would seize you, rendering you helpless once more. you would lie there, motionless and silent, as the darkness of the room seemed to thicken and become more oppressive.

gradually, a figure would materialize in the shadowy void. at first, it would be indistinct, just a shape in the darkness. but as the nights progressed, the figure would come closer, its form more defined. Each night, jimin would appear a little nearer to you, his presence becoming more tangible. he never spoke or moved, only stood there, staring at you with that hauntingly serene smile. his eyes, though unseeing, seemed to pierce through you, conveying a silent message that you couldn’t quite grasp.

your heart would ache each night as you observed him, the silence between you laden with unspoken words. his smile was both comforting and tormenting, a reminder of the connection you once shared and the depth of your loss. the sight of him, each night closer than the last, was a poignant testament to your unending grief.

then, one night, you were surprised to see the moon. it was a sight that brought you unexpected relief. the moon, bright and full, hung in the sky like a beacon of hope amidst the darkness. you felt a rush of warmth and comfort as you gazed up at it, the familiar glow washing over you like a gentle embrace.

with renewed hope, you began to speak to the sky, explaining the events of the past few nights. “i’ve missed you,” you said, your voice trembling with emotion. “these nights have been so dark, so lonely. every time i close my eyes, you're there, closer and closer. i can’t bear it anymore.” the words spilled out of you, a mixture of relief and sorrow. “tonight, i hope you can hear me. i need to know if it’s going to be alright.”

feeling a sense of closure, you went to bed with a lighter heart. the night felt different, as if a burden had been lifted. when you woke the next morning, you were greeted by a sense of peace. there were no traces of sleep paralysis, no unsettling visits from jimin in the darkness. you moved through your morning routine with a cautious optimism, a small part of you hopeful that the cycle had finally broken.

you made your way to work, the morning air feeling crisp and invigorating. the day unfolded with a semblance of normalcy, and you almost felt as if you were regaining control over your life. your spirits were lifted, and you found yourself smiling for the first time in days.

as you waited to cross the street on your way to work, you spotted a familiar face in the crowd across from you. the sight of him made your heart skip a beat. for a moment, you were convinced it was him. he was standing there, looking out of place in the bustling crowd, his features hauntingly familiar. a shiver ran down your spine as you took a step forward, your instincts urging you to reach out to him. but before you could move, a bus approached, blocking your view. you watched in stunned silence as the bus passed by, and when it finally cleared, the man was gone. your heart pounded in your chest, a mix of hope and despair churning within you.

you stood there, frozen, trying to process what had just happened. the fleeting glimpse of someone who looked so much like him left you disoriented and aching with longing. you were left with the lingering question of whether it was truly him or just a trick of the mind, a cruel illusion born from your desperate yearning.

as the days passed, life seemed to settle back into a semblance of normalcy. the routine of your daily existence provided a fragile buffer against the waves of grief that had once overwhelmed you. you went through the motions of work and home life, attempting to regain a sense of normalcy, yet a lingering unease persisted.

it was during these days that you began to spot him in random places. the sightings were fleeting, almost imperceptible—a fleeting glimpse of a familiar face in a crowded street, a silhouette in a shop window, the echo of a laugh in a crowded café. each time, you were struck by a sudden rush of recognition, a feeling deep in your bones that it was him. but every time you turned around or reached out, the figure vanished, leaving only the empty space where he had been. the moments were brief, and yet they were enough to stir up a tempest of emotions within you.

you found yourself haunted by these apparitions, unable to reconcile them with the comforting reality you sought. each sighting left you yearning for more, your heart aching with the possibility that he might be closer than you dared to hope. yet, each time, the reassurance of his presence was snatched away, leaving you grappling with an unsettling mixture of hope and despair.

one night, as the moon reappeared in its familiar place in the sky, you stood on your balcony once more. the moon’s gentle glow illuminated the world below, casting long shadows and bathing everything in a silvery light. you felt a familiar comfort as you gazed up at it, and you began to speak to the moon, your voice carrying the weight of your recent experiences.

“i’ve seen you,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “in the most unexpected places, just for a moment. every time, it feels so real, but you're gone before i can reach you. it’s as if you're teasing me, reminding me of what i’ve lost.” you paused, the cool night air mingling with your breath. “it only makes me miss you more.”

with those words hanging in the air, you turned around, ready to head back inside and to bed. but as you did, your blood ran cold. standing right in front of you, illuminated by the moonlight, was him. it was as if he had materialized from the very night sky, his figure more solid than any previous apparition. your heart stopped in your chest as you took in the sight of him, the reality of his presence hitting you like a tidal wave.

he stood there, just a few feet away, his eyes meeting yours with that same gentle smile you had come to know so well. the moonlight danced on his features, making him appear both ethereal and incredibly real. the sight of him, so close and tangible, filled you with an overwhelming sense of disbelief. you reached out with trembling hands, convinced that you were dreaming, that this was a figment of your imagination. you pinched your arm hard, the sharp pain confirming that you were indeed awake. the sensation was all too real, and the presence before you was undeniable. you could feel the cool night air around him, the warmth of his gaze, the weight of the moment pressing down on you. he was truly there.

his presence, so close and so impossibly real, left you paralyzed. you could hardly believe your eyes, the sight of him filling you with a mix of joy and incredulity. as the seconds ticked by, you tried to process the moment, your mind racing to make sense of the impossible. then, to your utter astonishment, he spoke.

“have you missed me as much as you claimed to?” his voice was soft, carrying a warmth that you remembered so well. the sound of his voice broke the spell of disbelief, sending a flood of emotions crashing over you. your eyes welled up with tears, the dam breaking as you struggled to reconcile the reality of his words with the overwhelming grief that had consumed you for so long.

tears streamed down your face, a mix of relief, confusion, and heartbreak. you were convinced this had to be some cruel trick, a fleeting illusion born from your desperate longing. the notion seemed almost too fantastical to be true. but then, as if to dispel any doubts, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around you. the warmth of his embrace, the solid reality of his form, was more than your frazzled mind could bear. “because i missed you even more,” he said, his voice breaking with emotion. the words resonated deep within you, the sincerity in his tone undeniable. yet, you could only stare at him, your heart aching with a mixture of relief and confusion.

“how?” you managed to ask through your tears, your voice barely more than a whisper. “how is this possible? how can you be here?”

he looked at you with a mixture of sadness and tenderness. “i don't know,” he began. “in the space between worlds, time doesn’t flow as it does on earth. the lunar phases, the cycles of the moon—they affect the way i can reach out to you.” he paused, searching for the right words. “the moon’s phases create windows, moments where the boundary between our worlds thins. during the new moon, when the sky is darkest, it's hardest for me to reach you. but as the moon waxes and wanes, those windows open and close.”

you listened, trying to grasp the concept, but the explanation felt both profound and surreal. the idea of lunar cycles dictating the connection between realms was something out of a dream, and it left you struggling to believe it was real. your thoughts spun, overwhelmed by the impossibility of it all. unable to hold back any longer, you crumpled onto the ground, your body shaking with the intensity of your emotions. he knelt beside you, his hands gently wiping the tears from your face. his touch was soothing, a balm to your wounded soul. the reality of his presence, however strange, began to pierce through your disbelief.

as your fear began to wane, the comforting presence of his embrace became a sanctuary. you felt his arms around you, holding you tightly, his heartbeat a steady rhythm against your own. the comfort of his touch, the solidity of his form, reassured you in a way that words could not. you both sobbed together, your tears mingling in the quiet of the night, the emotional release as raw and cathartic as it was painful. he held you close, his own tears flowing freely as he whispered into your ear. “i’m here,” he murmured. “i’m here because I couldn’t stand being apart any longer. i missed you more than words can say.”

in the cocoon of his embrace, you felt a profound sense of peace, a fragile haven amidst the storm of your emotions. the warmth of his body, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and the soothing presence of his arms lulled you into a deep, exhausted sleep. it was a rest that felt both timeless and fleeting, as if you were cradled in a dream where reality and fantasy intertwined.

when you awoke, the world felt disorientingly empty. the absence of his warmth was the first thing you noticed, a stark contrast to the comforting embrace you had known only hours before. your eyes fluttered open, and the familiar sight of your room greeted you—a room that now seemed unnervingly mundane. panic surged through you as you scrambled to sit up, a torrent of thoughts racing through your mind. was it all just a dream? the hope that it had been real seemed to dissipate like morning fog.

your heart pounded as you called out his name, desperation seeping into your voice. “jimin, where are you?” the echoes of your own voice seemed to mock your fears, and tears began to stream down your face. the cruel possibility that the night’s events were nothing more than a vivid dream threatened to shatter your fragile sense of hope. in your frantic search, you stumbled out of bed, your movements clumsy with disorientation and anxiety. as you made your way through the house, the sense of loss and longing grew more intense. your steps felt heavy, each footfall a reminder of the emptiness that had returned.

then, as you approached the kitchen, a familiar aroma reached your senses—a rich, comforting scent that instantly grounded you. you pushed open the kitchen door, and there, against all odds, was jimin. he stood by the counter, a warm smile on his face, as he prepared two cups of coffee. the sight was so ordinary, so achingly real, that it took a moment for your mind to fully comprehend it. the relief that washed over you was overwhelming. the tears of despair were quickly replaced by tears of joy. without a second thought, you rushed into his arms, your emotions spilling over in a torrent of relief and gratitude. his arms encircled you once more, and you buried your face in his chest, taking solace in the reassuring presence that had reappeared in your life.

“i thought you were gone, again” you choked out between sobs. “i was so scared. i thought it was all just a dream.”

he held you tightly, his own emotions mirroring yours. “i’m here,” he whispered soothingly. “i’m not going anywhere. i promise.” you pulled back slightly, looking up at him with tear-streaked cheeks. “it felt so unreal when you left,” you confessed, your voice trembling. “everything seemed to lose its meaning. life was a blur of emptiness without you.”

his expression softened with empathy. He reached up and gently cupped your face, his thumb brushing away the last of your tears. “i understand,” he said quietly. “i know it was hard. but i’ve been waiting for the right time to come back to you. the cycles of the moon and the flow of time—they keep us apart, but they also guide us back to each other.” the weight of his words settled around you, providing a sense of understanding and reassurance. you were finally able to embrace the reality of his presence, the knowledge that he would be staying with you bringing a sense of peace that had been so elusive.

as you both sat down to enjoy the coffee he had prepared, the conversation flowed easily. you shared your thoughts, your fears, and your dreams, while jimin listened with unwavering attentiveness. the bond between you, though tested by time and distance, had proven resilient. the morning light filtered through the kitchen window, casting a warm glow over the two of you. the ordinary moment of sharing coffee felt deeply significant, a symbol of the normalcy and connection that had been restored. as you sipped your coffee and talked, the reality of his presence began to sink in, bringing with it a profound sense of relief and gratitude.

the next few days were a whirlwind of emotions and experiences, each moment with jimin feeling like a cherished gift you never wanted to take for granted. with each sunrise, you found yourself immersed in the joy of his presence, relishing in the simple pleasures of everyday life that had once felt distant and unattainable.

the next morning after his return, you and jimin decided to start the day with a visit to a local coffee shop. the crisp morning air was invigorating, a perfect contrast to the warmth of the café. as you walked side by side, the soft glow of the rising sun highlighted the familiar features of his, making everything feel wonderfully right. the café was a quaint, cozy spot with a comforting ambiance. the scent of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the faint aroma of pastries. you both ordered your favorite drinks—his a rich caramel latte, and yours a classic cappuccino. as you settled into a corner booth, the chatter of other patrons and the gentle clinking of cups created a backdrop of contentment.

over your steaming mugs, you talked about everything and nothing—about the latest news, your favorite memories, and the dreams you held for the future. the conversation flowed effortlessly, filled with laughter and the occasional shared silence that spoke volumes. you were acutely aware of the comfort in his presence, a soothing reminder of how deeply you had missed him.

the next day, you and him ventured out for a shopping trip. it was an ordinary activity, but with him by your side, it felt extraordinary. you wandered through bustling markets and chic boutiques, enjoying the vibrant colors and lively atmosphere. the excitement of choosing new items and trying them on was made even more delightful by his enthusiastic support and playful banter.

he picked out a few quirky accessories for you, teasing you about your fashion choices, while you returned the favor with playful critiques of his selections. the experience was filled with shared smiles and lighthearted moments. each new store was an adventure, each new purchase a symbol of your renewed connection.

for your third day together, you decided to catch a movie. the theater was a perfect escape, offering a darkened space where you could enjoy a film and the comfort of each other’s company. you chose a romantic comedy, its light-hearted plot providing a stark contrast to the deep emotions of the past days.

as you watched the film, his hand was a reassuring presence in yours, the warmth of his touch a constant reminder of his return. the shared experience of laughing at the same jokes and reacting to the scenes on screen felt both intimate and exhilarating. the night ended with a quiet stroll through the nearby park, where you talked about the film and enjoyed the peaceful surroundings.

the following day, you and him decided to spend some time at the beach. the ocean breeze was invigorating, and the sight of the vast, sparkling waters was a balm for your soul. you walked along the shore, the sand cool beneath your feet, and collected seashells, each one a small treasure of the day. he playfully challenged you to a sandcastle-building contest, his laughter ringing out as you both got more elaborate with your designs. the day was filled with the simple joy of being together, the rhythmic sound of the waves and the warmth of the sun providing a perfect backdrop. as the sun set, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, you both sat on the beach, watching the horizon in contented silence.

each evening, after the day’s activities, you and him would return home, where you spent quiet moments together. whether it was cooking dinner, watching shows, or simply lying on the couch, the evenings were marked by a deep sense of contentment. the routine of preparing a meal together or sharing stories from your day became precious rituals, symbols of your renewed connection.

as the world outside was cloaked in the soft, velvety darkness of night, you and jimin found yourselves in the comforting cocoon of your living room. the day's activities had given way to the serene calm of night, and you both were curled up together on the couch, the gentle hum of a late-night movie playing softly in the background. the flickering light from the television cast a warm glow, illuminating his face in a way that made the moment feel even more intimate.

as the movie played, your conversation drifted from lighthearted topics to deeper, more reflective ones. the easy flow of words and shared laughter created an atmosphere of closeness, a space where secrets could be shared and feelings laid bare. it was during one of these quiet, reflective moments that his demeanor shifted slightly, a serious note entering his voice that caught your attention.

“there’s something i’ve been meaning to tell you,” he began, his gaze fixed on the screen but his mind clearly elsewhere. his voice was softer, almost hesitant, as if he was weighing each word before he spoke it. you turned to face him, sensing the gravity in his tone, and gave him your full attention. “i’ve been holding this in for a long time,” he continued, his fingers lightly tracing patterns on the couch cushion between you. “and i need you to know that it’s been with me since we were kids.”

you looked at him with curiosity and a hint of apprehension. “what is it?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, as if the very air between you might shatter if you spoke too loudly.

he took a deep breath, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your heart race. “do you remember that wedding we had when we were in elementary school?” he asked, a nostalgic smile playing on his lips. the memory came flooding back—an innocent, playful ceremony where you and him had pretended to be married, dressed up in makeshift attire and exchanging vows in the school playground. it had been a simple, childlike affair, full of giggles and the sweetness of youthful innocence.

“yes,” you replied, a soft smile tugging at your own lips as you recalled the fond memory. “i remember it well.”

his expression grew more earnest. “i didn’t take it lightly, even then. to me, it wasn’t just a game. i loved you even back then, and that feeling only grew stronger as we grew up.” the revelation hit you with a profound impact, the weight of his words settling over you. the depth of his feelings, spanning from childhood to now, was a testament to something enduring and deep. your own heart swelled with emotion, as the truth of his confession resonated with your own hidden feelings.

“i didn’t know,” you stammered, your voice choked with a mix of surprise and overwhelming affection. “i’ve always had feelings for you too. even back then, i felt something special.” the honesty in your words seemed to break through any remaining barriers between you. Jimin’s face softened, a look of relief and joy crossing his features. without another word, he leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a gentle, tender kiss. the initial touch was soft and exploratory, filled with the sweetness of rediscovered love.

as the kiss deepened, the intensity of your emotions surged. jimin’s hands cupped your face, pulling you closer, while your own arms wrapped around his neck. the world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in this cocoon of affection. the kiss grew more heated, a passionate expression of the longing and love that had been building between you over the years. the warmth of his lips, the press of his body against yours, and the way his hands traced the contours of your back were electrifying. every touch, every movement spoke volumes of the love and desire you both felt. the kiss became a dance of shared emotions, a blend of tenderness and fervor that left you breathless.

“i’ve wanted this for so long,” he murmured, his voice husky with emotion. “to be with you like this, to finally be honest about how i feel.” you rested your forehead against his, your hands still entwined with his. “me too,” you whispered back, your voice trembling with a mix of joy and vulnerability. “i’ve missed you more than i could ever put into words.”

he continued, “i want to feel you, all of you.” his words were like a match to dry kindling, igniting the fire that had been smoldering within you all evening. you nodded, unable to form coherent words as he peeled your shirt off and tossed it aside. your skin was alive with anticipation as he leaned in, his hot breath tickling your neck before his mouth closed around the bare flesh of your tit. the sensation was too much, and you arched your back, silently begging for more. his teeth grazed your sensitive skin, sending a thrill through your body that made you gasp. he looked up, his eyes filled with a gentle fierceness that made your knees wobble. “you're so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice a warm caress against your flesh. “but i want to hear you say it.”

you swallowed hard, feeling a mix of shyness and arousal. “give it to me, i'm all yours.” his smile was pure sin as he slid his hand down your stomach and unbuttoned your jeans. “good,” he breathed, his voice husky with need. “that's exactly what i was hoping for.”

with trembling hands, you helped him push the fabric down over your hips, your panties following closely behind. the cool air of the room brushed against your heated skin, sending a shiver down your spine. he stepped back, his eyes raking over your exposed body, and you felt a heady sense of power knowing you had this effect on him. he reached out, his fingertips tracing the waistband of your underwear. “may i?” you nodded, your breath coming in shallow pants. “please.”

he hooked his thumbs into the delicate lace and pulled them down, letting them fall to the floor. he knelt before you, his eyes never leaving yours, and kissed the soft skin of your inner thigh. the sensation was so intense, you had to bite your lip to keep from crying out. he continued to kiss and nibble his way up, until he reached the apex of your legs. his breath was hot against your center, and you felt your legs start to quiver. “so wet for me,” he murmured, the words sending a fresh wave of heat through you.

without warning, his mouth closed over your clit, and you had to grab onto his shoulders to stay upright. his tongue flicked and teased, sending electric currents through your body. you could feel your orgasm building, the tension coiling tight in your belly. “jimin,” you moaned, your voice thick with desire. he looked up, his eyes dark with passion. “you taste so sweet,” he said, his voice muffled against your skin. “but i want more of you.”

standing, he reached for his own belt, his movements deft and sure. he pulled his pants and boxers down in one swift motion, revealing his erection. it was beautiful, and you couldn't help but stare. he chuckled, the sound low and deep in his chest. “need it that bad, huh?” you nodded, unable to find the words. he stepped closer, pressing himself against you, and you could feel the heat of his body, the pulse of his cock. he reached up, cradling your face in his hands. “i'm going to make you feel so good,” he promised, and you had no doubt he would.

the anticipation was unbearable, and you reached for him, pulling him closer. “now,” you demanded, your voice a desperate whisper. jimin leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both tender and claiming. his hand slid between your legs, his fingers teasing your entrance. “i need to feel all of you,” he murmured against your mouth, and with one smooth thrust, he entered you. you gasped, the sensation of him filling you up making you feel complete in a way you never had before.

the sex was raw and unfiltered, the kind of passionate, messy love-making that left no room for doubt or regret. he whispered dirty words into your ear, his hips pumping into you in a rhythm that made your toes curl. you wrapped your legs around him, pulling him deeper, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the room. you felt his hand on your tit again, squeezing and playing with the nipple, sending bolts of pleasure straight to your core. you raked your nails down his back, the slight sting of pain mixing with the overwhelming pleasure. he groaned, his thrusts becoming more erratic.

as you approached the peak of your climax, he pulled out of your mouth and whispered, “cum for me.” and with that, you did, your body convulsing around him as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you. he followed shortly after, his body shuddering as he emptied himself inside you.

for a moment, you lay there, tangled together, breathing heavily. then he leaned down, kissing you softly. “i love you,” he murmured, his voice filled with a tenderness that made your heart swell. you wrapped your arms around him, feeling the warmth of his body, the stickiness of your combined releases, and the utter contentment that came from being fully claimed by the person you adored. “i love you too,” you whispered back, and in that moment, you knew that nothing else mattered.

the morning light filtered softly through the curtains, casting a gentle glow across the room. you awoke nestled in the warmth of jimin's embrace, his steady breathing and the soft rise and fall of his chest creating a cocoon of comfort around you. for a moment, you allowed yourself to savor the tranquility of the morning, the sweetness of being in his presence making the world outside feel distant and unimportant.

as you stretched and began to come fully awake, the sudden, insistent ringing of the doorbell pierced the calm. the sound jolted you from your peaceful state, and you carefully extricated yourself from jimin's embrace, mindful not to disturb him. the morning was supposed to be a continuation of the serenity from the night before, but the unexpected visitor threatened to disrupt that harmony.

you pulled on a robe and padded to the door, your mind still foggy from sleep. the sound of the doorbell echoed in your head as you reached the entrance, and when you opened it, your heart sank.

standing on the doorstep was your ex. his sudden appearance was a jarring shock, his presence a stark contrast to the warmth and affection you had just experienced with jimin. your blood ran cold, and your face grew pale as the reality of the situation set in. the familiarity of jungkook's face, once a source of comfort, now felt like an intrusion into the newfound peace you were trying to build.

his expression was calm, but there was a hint of concern in his eyes. “i just wanted to check up on you,” he said, his tone measured. “make sure everything is alright.” you took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. “everything is fine,” you replied, your voice firm but strained. you made an attempt to close the door, hoping to end the awkward encounter quickly.

but his hand shot out, stopping the door from closing. “are you sure?” he pressed, his gaze unwavering. “have you been taking your insomnia pills?” the question took you aback, a wave of frustration washing over you. you hadn’t been taking the pills for a while, but the reminder felt intrusive, especially now. “it’s none of your business,” you snapped, the edge in your voice betraying the annoyance and stress of the situation.

his demeanor remained calm, but his eyes held a shadow of something more serious. “you should really take them,” he said, his voice taking on a more serious tone. “remember what happened the last time you didn’t.” the vague reference to past events only heightened your irritation, and you clenched your fists, struggling to maintain your composure. “i’ll handle it,” you said tersely. “you don’t need to worry about me.”

he gave a short nod, his expression softening slightly, though his concern remained evident. “alright,” he said. “just remember to take care of yourself.” with that, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing at the door, feeling a mix of anger and unease. you watched him retreat down the walkway until he disappeared from view, the unsettling encounter leaving you with a lingering sense of discomfort.

as the morning light grew stronger, jimin stirred beside you, slowly waking up. he stretched and yawned, blinking sleepily as he met your gaze. his eyes softened with affection as he took in the sight of you, and he reached out to brush a strand of hair away from your face. “good morning,” he murmured, his voice still thick with sleep. “what’s wrong?”

you took a deep breath, trying to push away the remnants of the unsettling encounter with jungkook. “there was a surprise visitor this morning,” you began, your voice steady but tinged with the tension you still felt. “it was jungkook.” jimin’s expression shifted to one of concern and curiosity. “jungkook? your ex?”

you nodded, sitting down at the edge of the bed. “yeah, he showed up out of the blue, said he just wanted to check up on me. it was really unexpected and, to be honest, kind of intrusive. he asked if i'd been taking my pills, which i haven’t been.”

his brow furrowed slightly. “that’s strange. why is he still involved in your life like that?” you sighed, feeling the weight of the past pressing on you. “our relationship got pretty toxic quickly. i ended it because it was unhealthy for both of us. i thought i'd put that part of my life behind me.”

jimin reached out, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “i’m sorry you had to deal with that. but you’re here now, and everything will be okay. i promise.” the warmth of his words helped ease some of the lingering tension, and you felt a bit of the heaviness lift from your shoulders. T

the morning continued with a sense of normalcy as you both prepared breakfast together. the kitchen was filled with the comforting aroma of coffee and the sounds of clinking utensils, a gentle reminder of the simple joys you shared.

after breakfast, you decided to spend the day outdoors, choosing to visit a nearby park. the sun was shining, and the day promised to be beautiful. as you arrived at the park, jimin’s playful nature immediately came to the forefront. he seemed to relish the chance to be carefree, darting toward the swings with a childlike enthusiasm. you watched, smiling as he took to the swings, his laughter ringing out as he soared higher and higher. the sight of him, so unburdened and joyous, was a balm for the worries of the morning. for a while, it was just the two of you, surrounded by the serene beauty of the park and the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze.

however, the moment of carefree joy was interrupted when jimin, attempting a particularly daring swing, lost his balance and fell to the ground. the sound of his fall and the thud of his landing made your heart leap into your throat. you rushed over to him, panic rising as you saw him lying on the grass. you knelt beside him, your hands trembling as you checked his leg. Given the way he had fallen, you expected to see prominent bleeding or bruising. Instead, his leg seemed completely unharmed. there was no sign of injury, no blood, nothing.

jimin looked up at you with a reassuring smile. “hey, don’t worry. i'm fine,” he said, his tone calm despite the fall. “one of the effects of the lunar phases is that i'm more resistant to pain. i’ve always been able to recover quickly.” the explanation did little to ease your worry. the idea that the phases of the moon could have such an effect on him seemed surreal, almost otherworldly. you wanted to question him further, to understand more about what he meant, but you held back, sensing that it might only add to your unease.

instead, you helped him to his feet, still concerned but trying to mask your anxiety. “are you sure you’re okay?” you asked, your voice filled with worry. he nodded, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “i’m fine, really. don’t let it worry you. we can still enjoy the day.” reluctantly, you allowed yourself to relax a bit, though the encounter had left you with lingering questions. you decided to push your concerns aside for the moment, focusing instead on making the most of the rest of the day. as you continued to explore the park together, you tried to immerse yourself in the joy of hus presence, allowing the warmth of his company to overshadow the troubling thoughts that still lingered in the back of your mind.

as the evening settled in, you and jimin found yourselves on the balcony, wrapped in the gentle embrace of the night. the sky was a canvas of deep blues and scattered stars, yet the moon remained conspicuously absent. you leaned against the railing, the cool breeze brushing against your face, and glanced over at him, who stood beside you with an easy smile.

you couldn’t shake the question that had been gnawing at you for days. “jimin,” you began, your voice soft and tinged with curiosity, “why has the moon been gone ever since you came back? i thought it was supposed to be a constant presence.” he turned to you, his smile growing as he looked up at the star-speckled sky. “would you rather talk to the moon or talk to me?” he asked, his tone light and playful.

the question took you by surprise, and you turned to him, searching his face for an answer. his eyes sparkled with a mixture of mischief and tenderness, and you couldn’t help but smile at his response. “i think i’d rather talk to you,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

his expression softened as he took your hand in his, his gaze steady and warm. “i heard every word you’ve spoken since the day i passed,” he said gently. “every word, every tear, every moment of sorrow. i’ve been watching over you all this time, even when you couldn’t see me. i was there, always.”

the weight of his words settled over you like a heavy blanket, and tears began to well up in your eyes. the thought that he had been with you all along, silently listening and keeping watch, was both comforting and heartbreaking. you felt a rush of emotions, a mixture of relief and sadness, as the reality of his presence sank in. he noticed the tears that escaped down your cheeks and gently wiped them away with his thumb. “please don’t cry,” he said softly. “i’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere.”

with his reassurance, you felt a wave of calm wash over you. jimin helped you back inside, guiding you gently toward the bed. His touch was tender and reassuring, his presence a comforting balm to the lingering doubts and fears. as you settled beneath the covers, he began to sing softly, his voice carrying the melody of the song you had created together as children. the familiar tune, filled with childhood memories and shared dreams, wrapped around you like a warm embrace. the melody was soothing, its gentle rhythms lulling you into a state of peaceful relaxation.

you snuggled closer to him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest as you listened to his voice. the song’s lyrics, full of innocence and love, resonated deeply within you, evoking memories of simpler times. the combination of his soothing voice and his comforting embrace created a cocoon of safety and warmth. as the song drew to a close, you felt your eyelids growing heavy. his presence, the song, and the comfort of his embrace created the perfect setting for sleep to come gently. you allowed yourself to drift off, lulled by the harmonious blend of past and present, his gentle singing guiding you into the realm of dreams.

in the quiet of the night, as you fell asleep nestled in his arms, you found solace in the knowledge that he was there with you, that his love and presence were a constant source of strength. the moon may have been absent, but you had him, and that was more than enough. the world outside faded away as you succumbed to the peaceful embrace of sleep, content in the comfort of his arms.

the morning sun filtered softly through the curtains, waking you from a restful sleep. you stirred, stretching and reaching out for jimin, but the space beside you was empty. for a moment, you assumed he had simply woken before you, perhaps eager to explore or enjoy the day after having been away for so long. you rolled out of bed, feeling a mix of anticipation and curiosity about what he might be doing.

the house was quiet, and the usual sounds of morning activity were absent. you went about your day, preparing breakfast and tidying up, holding onto the hope that he would return soon. as hours passed, your expectation turned into mild concern. you tried calling out for him, wandering through the house and checking every room, but there was no sign of him.

by the time evening approached, the absence of jimin began to weigh heavily on you. you tried to stay calm, convincing yourself that he was simply caught up in some new experience or had been delayed. but as darkness settled and the familiar rhythm of the day gave way to the night, your sense of unease grew stronger.

with the onset of night, you decided to check the area around your house. you slipped on a coat and went out to the balcony, scanning the surroundings. the street below was eerily quiet and bathed in shadows. the usual hustle and bustle of the neighborhood seemed to have receded, leaving behind an unsettling silence. the sky above was a deep, impenetrable black, save for the full moon that hung like a solitary beacon. its light cast an ethereal glow over the landscape, starkly contrasting the darkness around it. as you looked up at the moon, something clicked in your mind. the realization hit you with a sudden, painful clarity. the full moon, so bright and so present, was the same moon that had been absent on the nights when jimin appeared.

tears began to well up in your eyes, and the gravity of the situation finally sank in. his presence had always been tied to the lunar phases, and the full moon now felt like a cruel reminder of his departure. you had been holding on to hope, clinging to the belief that he would return, but the moon’s presence now seemed to signify the end of his visit. the tears that had been held back finally flowed freely. you felt a wave of grief and despair wash over you, the loss and confusion merging into an overwhelming tide of emotion. you leaned against the railing, letting the tears fall unchecked, the moon’s light casting a cold, distant glow on your face.

the night air was cool against your skin, but you hardly noticed. the beauty of the moon seemed to mock your anguish, a stark reminder of what had been and what was now irrevocably lost. your heart ached with the realization that jimin’s return, however magical and comforting, was transient—a beautiful illusion bound by the lunar phases.

as you stood there, lost in your sorrow, you could only hope that somewhere, jimin was watching over you once more, his presence a distant but comforting memory. the full moon remained a constant in the sky, and you were left to grapple with the void that his absence had created. the night continued on, the moon’s light a silent witness to your grief, and you were left to navigate the emptiness that followed.

“i told you,” you didn't even have to turn around to know whose voice it was. the condescending, controlling tone you were so used to, it was more than enough for you to grasp onto what little was left of reality. “you should've been taking your pills.”

✧.*

a/n: this one was short ngl i'm stumped!! i had a different idea for jimin's story but it's one of those days where i'm missing jonghyun so the idea just kinda came to me

[casdeanlosechester]

I made a poem about 15x18, the confession scene...this is one of my oldest poems and I don't know what to do about it, so...

In the dim light of the room, Castiel stands, his voice trembling,  “When Jack was dying..”, he begins,  A confession wrapped in the weight of sacrifice. "I made a deal to save him,"  The words hang heavy, a burden revealed,  The price was my life, he says,  A life bound by a promise and a curse. Dean’s confusion breaks through,  "Why are you telling me this now?"  The truth, once hidden, now emerges,  A moment of true happiness, a perilous threshold. "I always wondered," Castiel continues, "What my true happiness could even look like." He sought an answer, but found none,  Because the one thing he wanted,  Was something he knew he couldn’t have. "But I think I know now," he says softly,” “Happiness isn’t in the having,  It’s in just being, in just saying it,” In the act of confession, raw and unguarded. Dean, the reflection of a man’s deepest fears,  You see yourself through a shattered lens,  Destructive, angry, broken,  "Daddy’s Blunt Instrument," you think. Yet Castiel sees beyond the edges, "You’re not that," he says, "You’re not."  In everything you’ve done, the good and the bad,  You’ve done it for love, a love that defines you. "You’re the most caring man on Earth," he reveals,  The most selfless, loving human being,  Ever since we met, ever since I pulled you from Hell,  You’ve changed me, Dean. "You cared, I cared," he continues,  "I cared about you, Sam, Jack, the whole world."  You changed me, Dean, and now,  "I love you." The words tremble in the air, A farewell cloaked in vulnerability,  "Why does this sound like a goodbye?"  "Because it is," Castiel answers softly. "Don’t do this, Cas," Dean pleads,  The name is a mix of desperation and pain,  "Goodbye, Dean," Castiel whispers,  The finality of his words was a weight on the heart. In the silence that follows,  The confession lingers,  A testament to love and sacrifice,  To the truth spoken in the twilight,  And the goodbye that echoes through the soul. Like when he fell from heaven, Castiel fell for Dean.