#I couldn’t get the vision out of my head and it manifested into something like this

[kitimeq]

god i didn’t think that someone would like my delulu-fueled 3am desperate fic but it got so much positive attention 🥹 I wonder when I would get some more inspo to write another one, bc i feel as if this one was created during some kind of psychotic episode 🫡 i’m so embarrassed about publishing it but the attention kind of makes me want to create more 💀

surprise encounter 🤍 sylus 秦

pairing: sylus x reader

summary: You’ve been playing love&deepspace ever since the game came out and it became your comfort place now. You like all of the boys, but you have the highest affinity with sylus, who had your heart in a grasp ever since the beginning. Who would’ve thought that he shares the sentiment? And after your monthly absence from the game, he decides to pay you a little visit and finally confess to all of it (and maybe try to kidnap you in the process too).

tropes: fluff, angst to fluff, fluff to angst to fluff? fluff to angst to fluff to angst to fluff???? idk angst with happy ending!

word count: no idea, it goes on for days sorry

warning!: i apologize for any mistakes, i am not a native speaker of english!! if you see any errors you can write me a dm and i will correct them for sure ♡ and i think it gets better later! i can’t write for shi, especially the beginnings, and the second part was fueled by my delulu so it is probably much more fun to read 🤍

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙ ⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙

You liked days like these: quiet days, lazy ones, when you didn’t have any errands to run, meetings to attend, or people to please. You could just stay inside for the whole day, reading your favorite books and playing cozy games, spending your time however you wanted. Today was Saturday and you didn’t have to go to work until Monday and you decided that you finally deserved to have some rest after the last couple of weeks of almost working yourself to the bone due to the amount of the assingments you had to complete at work. You often had to stay after hours or work from home to complete everything in time. Your work was not usually that challenging, but there were certain times of the year when everyone at your job had their hands full and when it happened, you were almost completely cut off not only from your social, but also personal life. However, you never complained, because you actually liked what you were doing, and even if the occasional hard times were inevitable, your work brought you so much fun and satisfaction.

And today was a good day! You finally finished everything you had to do, so you could go back to your favourite game. You didn’t have time to play recently due to the amount of work, up to the point that you didn’t even bother to check in to grab some stamina. Usually, love&deepspace was an important part of your day - you logged in there at least twice a day, completed every task thrown your way and had a blast doing so, but these couple of weeks were so hard for you that you almost forgot about it completely. But even if you were too busy, you thought about the boys from time to time, as well as about the events that you were probably missing out on. You really hoped that if some new events had taken place during that time, that they did not involve Sylus, because if you had missed them, you would be slightly devastated.

Sylus was your favorite. Ever since the beginning, there was something about him that caught your attention. You downloaded the game after his announcement and haven’t looked back since. You played with other boys as well, but your time with Sylus was always the most memorable. Not only was he extremely attractive in your eyes, as well as the eyes of other players around the world, but you also understood his character, adored his little jokes and mannerisms, and could safely say that he made your life a little more exciting. You knew that it probably sounded lame to someone who didn’t play such games, and you were aware that he wasn’t real, but you enjoyed yourself regardless. In your real life, you had some experience with men and were pretty popular among them; however, you never felt comfortable enough to form more serious romantic relationships.

Here, with Sylus, you didn’t have to worry about such things. You were aware that he was only a game character and maybe that was why you were so honest with him from the very beginning. You knew that he wouldn’t judge you, misstreat you or make you miserable - he was created in a way that was supposed to make your playthrough enjoyable so you didn’t have to worry about your responses in the messages for him or your real life reactions to everything he said or did. You could just be yourself. And you loved how freeing that felt.

That is why you felt so excited ever since you woke up. Because you knew that today you could finally go back to playing l&d, and you could meet up with your Sylus after so much time apart. You quickly did your chores, spent some time on self-care to slightly relieve the fatigue from the weeks before, you put on your favourite cozy outfit and finally clicked the ”enter game” button.

And there he was. Sylus was standing in the cafe, wearing his extremally attractive biker outfit and you caught yourself sighing dreamily at the sight of him. You missed him so bad, you missed the little memories you shared and the sound of his voice. You missed playing kitty cards with him, catching plushies together and even looking for that bastard Tobias again and again. You couldn’t help but smile brightly at him.

“Hi Sylus, you have no idea how happy I am to see you.” You said cheerfully, feeling kind of dumb for it but you couldn’t help yourself. You often talked out loud to him during your playtime.

You watched him blink slowly once, then twice, and you started to think that there was something wrong with the server because his response should have already been uttered. But then the look on his face changed. At first, he appeared really shocked and relieved, but then a little frown appeared between his perfect little eyebrows.

“Where the hell have you been?” He responded quickly and it shocked you. You didn’t know that they could swear in the game, but after connecting some dots you figured that it had to be included in the special responses after the player was away for some time.

“At work mostly, been so busy lately but now I’m back and ready to defeat some Wanderers!!” You fist bumped the air above you, you couldn’t contain your excitement.

You also noticed that his expression stayed the same. He was silent, looking at you through your phone screen with bewilderment, and he looked almost hurt. In an attempt to provide some comfort to him, you swiped your finger gently through his hair and across his cheek. However, when you touched his cheek, he closed his eyes and nuzzled into your finger, which made you widen your eyes in surprise. Was that always a thing? Was he always so responsive to your touch? It had to be a new feature; you didn’t remember him being so lively.

“Next time you decide to leave me without a word, I think I’m going to take more drastic measures, sweetie” He said while opening his eyes. You couldn’t help but notice he did look different than usual. More… realistic? Even the way in which he moved his body looked so smooth.

“If not for Mephisto, I would have worried sick about your safety. You can't do this to me every time you have more work than usual; you have to visit me, even if it's just for a minute. I won't exaggerate when I say that I almost went insane after the first week of your cruel silence” And at that you were completely stunned. Should he talk this much? He never talked this much. And how could he know that you had more work than usual? Was that a lucky guess on the studio’s side?

“That’s so weird…” You whispered and touched his hand to trigger some kind of reaction that would appear more usual than what was happening right now.

“Is that your way of catching me of guard? If you wanted to hold my hand so badly kitten, then you would have visited me sooner. I will not let myself be distracted by your cute little behavior” He raised the hand you touched and crossed his arms at his chest, while continuing to frown. And you were still so, so confused.

“Promise me that you won’t leave me again, I know where to find you now.” You raised your eyebrows and bit your lip gently. You started to feel a little bit out of place, you knew that he was not real, but he sounded kind of scary. His voice was demanding, and the part about him finding you? You shivered involuntarily.

“What happened? Cat got your tongue, kitten? Or did you finally understood the selfishness of your actions?” Sylus continued and you opened your mouth in awe. “Promise. Me.” He said slowly, his gaze unnerving. Suddenly you heard a series of loud caws outside on your balcony. The sound made you jump in place, and you dropped your phone on your bed. Was that a freaking crow?? Outside your apartament???

You quickly picked up your phone and cursed softly. You were going insane. You got scared just because the game had an update you did not know about. You almost wanted to laugh at how stupid that was. Almost. Because Sylus walked up to the front of your phone screen and spoke to you again.

“Why are you hesitating? Are you really planning to leave me again?” You swore you never heard him so hurt.

“No!” You said before you could think.

“No?” He answered immediately, which scared the hell out of you. “I am not sure I believe you. And I can’t stand it. I can’t stand being away from you anymore.” He took two steps back and closed his eyes.

That was when the game crashed. Your phone appeared to be broked too, after the colourful lines appeared on the screen, flickered a couple of times and the whole screen turned black. You threw the device away from you and your heart started beating so fast you could hear the blood pulsing in your ears. You were so confused and genuinely scared. Was there an update that switched the genre of the game to horror? You were stunned.

And then you heard the knock.

You almost jumped out of your slippers. You brought your hand to your heart in order to calm yourself down and you started taking slow, deep breaths. It’s just a game. It’s just a game. Besides, how did Sylus, of all people, managed to scare you so badly? You adored that character, and you should know that he was prone not only to exaggeration, but also to intimidating appearance. That was literally one of his characteristics. So you forced yourself to calm down and opened the damn door, because it was probably a mailman, or one of your friendly neighbors, and here you were making a scene like a complete psychopath.

One. Two. Three.

You opened the door, and at first all you could see was a huge cloud of black mist. You closed your eyes in order to keep the mist from clouding your vision and then you felt wind pushing you gently further into your apartament. You heard the door close and the sound of the key turning in the lock. Everything happened so fast. And when you opened your eyes your knees almost buckled.

Sylus.

Sylus was all you could see. He was standing in front of you, in your own apartament, looking so out of place that you wanted to laugh. The first thing that you noticed about him was that he was huge, you couldn’t really see past him, and the more you looked at him, the more real he appeared to be. Soft-looking silver hair, rugged skin, that perfect nose and those piercing eyes. They looked into yours now, and at first they seemed to be searching for something, and after one quick second they visibly softened. You could also see how his handsome, oh so handsome mouth started to display his signature little smirk. And that was when you started to tremble.

“W-wha—” You tried to say something, anything but your mouth was not working. You have never been so confused and scared in your entire life. “Who—W-who are—” He was starting to close the distance between you and that is when the panic finally took over your body. You flinched and went to take a step back, but you slipped on your soft carpet.

Yet you didn’t fall. You felt the gentle caress of the mist that managed to caught you before you hit the ground, and it streightened your posture so that now you stood tall in front of the man.

“Careful kitten, I do not think that falling on four feet applies to you.” He spoke out loud for the first time and the voice was so familiar to you. It was the same, deep, husky timbre that you loved to hear, the same voice that made you squeal in happiness, that lulled you to sleep countless of times. You couldn’t believe it.

“Oh my god, am I dead?” He laughed softly at your reaction and looked at you through his lashes. “This can’t be happening.”

”Oh but it is. I knew that I would find my way to you, I just needed time.” He said and tried to close the distance between you, but you didn’t let him. Every step forward he took, you took one back. “It was so hard to find you. But after you disappeared without saying a word I think I got desperate.” Something flashed in his eyes. You recognized it as determination.

He stopped walking when he noticed that you were getting too close to the balcony. He straightened his posture, and you almost released a gasp. He was huge. And he was real. Alive and so, so real, that you had trouble breathing. You were so scared, but at the same time, so happy to see him, that your body didn’t know how it should react. You just looked at him, taking him in, trying to assess whether it wasn’t your mind playing tricks on you, or if it wasn’t some random man breaking into your apartment and your brain had created a new, fantastic defense mechanism. But no, the longer you took him in, the more similarities you managed to notice: the scar in the corner of his eye, his unevenly clipped fingernails, strong but dry hands, olive skin, slim lips, long, slightly furrowed eyebrows. The not-so-hidden gentleness in his gaze as he was taking you in himself.

“It’s really you.” You managed to breathe out.

“You’re so beautiful.” He answered and his voice was slowly starting to make you feel these similar butterflies. “So, so magnificent.” He continued. You felt your cheeks heat up and he seemed to drink that reaction in. “Will you talk to me more? You sound angelic. I did not think that you could sound even better than you did through the phone but I guess you will never fail to surprise me, sweetheart.” He did not move an inch. He just looked at you, and you still didn’t know how to react, but you were slowly coming to terms with the fact that it was not a weird dream. He was here and he didn’t appear to have bad intentions. At least you wanted to believe that.

“You’re still trembling. Are you really that scared of me?” He pressed his lips into a line.

“I’m sorry. I just… I’m just not sure what is happening. I had no idea you were… real.” He laughed softly at that.

“You wound me, kitten. Is that your way of unleashing your little claws?” He continued with a small smile on his lips and you couldn’t take it. He looked… stressed. And you thought that was new for him. You spend so many hours playing with him in l&d but you have never seen him so stressed.

Everything that came out of his mouth was slow and precise, not a word was spoken without a purpose. However you could see by his appearance that he was uncertain.

“Of course I’m real. And all the time we spent together is real too. Was it so wrong of me to expect that you would be at least a little bit happier to see me?” He was starting to look hurt. But not angry, not displeased. More concerned than anything, and that was when most of your worries started to disappear. He was your Sylus. He really was.

“I am happy to see you. I really am.” You said truthfully, the fear slowly dissolving. “What are you doing here? How did it happen?.”

“When you left me, I was worried to death. I had to come see that you were alright for myself.” He said, not taking his eyes from you. “I found a path between our worlds, and first I sent Mephisto after you. And that was how I knew you were fine, just busy.” He started explaining slowly and put two fingers at the bridge of his nose. This gesture was so familiar that you felt a slight pang in your chest. “Which l understand. But you stopped visiting completely and I panicked that I lost you. And that you lost your interest in me. And when you logged in today I guess I just lost control over myself.”

“I had to see you. I had to feel you. I needed to know that you will never leave me like that again. But how could I be so sure if you thought I was not real, sweetie?” His voice carried a hint of a ridicule. He smirked slowly and you allowed yourself to relax. You spend so much time with him on your phone, that you knew when he really needed reassurance. And it was the first time you saw him being so honest about his own feelings.

You decided to step closer to him and his eyes widened slightly. His body tightened because of the sudden change in proximity, and when you gently touched his hand, bringing it to your mouth, he appeared to be rendered speechless.

“I would never leave you, Sy. At least not without saying goodbye first. You are my safe space, remember?” You said quietly and smiled at him brightly, reminding him of what you had written in your game bio. And then you brought his knuckles to your lips and placed a soft kiss upon them. His hands were much warmer than you expected them to be. They felt harsh, but gentle.

The next thing you heard was a soft grunt and you felt yourself suddenly being lifted in the air. You yelped and found yourself pressed against his big, solid chest. Sylus hugged your body to his by wrapping both of his arms around your torso, and when he realized that you weren’t comfortable, he put one hand under your thighs and brought your body to his by your waist. You let your arms wrap around his neck and squeezed, and he buried his head in the crook of your neck. You heard him inhale your scent and his breath became rigged, as if he could not contain his excitement. You also became familiar with his scent. He smelled so manly and comforting, you could catch some notes of wood and leather, and something surprisingly sweet.

“You smell divine. You’re so soft, so warm.” He breathed against your neck and you felt goosebumps spreading throughout your whole body. You were so embarrassed, you felt like you needed to release some tension.

“I did not expect you to be so open with me. You’re usually the teasing type.” He chucked deeply and put his forehead against yours, while closing his eyes. Your cheeks burned. You couldn’t believe it wasn’t a dream.

“There will be a time for teasing you, kitten.” He rubbed his forehead against yours slowly. “Right now let me enjoy you for a bit. I can’t believe I finally got to see you.” He squeezed you harder to him. You reciprocated the hug with all you had. You were actually kind of scared that your grip was too hard, but he seemed to bask in it. “Communicating through that small device was not nearly enough for me. I could always see you and I heard your little responses to everything I was saying. But it took me some time to figure out how to change some things up.” Your eyes went wide at the mention of your reactions, you knew that a lot of times there were beyond embarrassing but you decided your blush to speak for itself. But what truly caught your attention was how he managed to appear in your home.

“Change things up?? You must have made such a mess, will it really be okay?” The concern in your voice made him look up and find your eyes with his. You were now looking at his beautiful red eyes, so full of adoration and determination. You could see that the consequences of his actions did not matter to him at all.

“Sweetie, I would gladly burn the world down for you, even if it meant that I could see you just once.” You swallowed audibly and proceeded to shy away from his piercing gaze. You started to feel unworthy of such attention, you couldn’t quite grasp what exactly made him care about you to such extend. “Fortunately for everyone, the process did not involve starting an intergalactic war.” He smirked slowly, his eyes finding your lips and staying there for much longer than necessary. “Yet.”

You chuckled at that and proceeded to bury your fingers in his hair, stroking the strands with care. They were so soft to the touch, they reminded you of silk. He closed his eyes and let you touch him to your heart’s content. Your hand quickly found its way to his forehead, and then to his cheek, stroking the skin delicately. You couldn’t believe how someone so handsome could really exist.

“See something you like, kitten?” He said and nuzzled into your palm, pressing a kiss right there. ”You will have all the time in the world to touch me, when we arrive in the N109 Zone.” He seemed so peaceful, so content with himself, but the mention of the N109 Zone stopped you in your tracks. You tensed visibly and he opened his eyes, noticing the change in your posture.

“The N109 Zone?” You asked puzzled. “Are you taking me away for a weekend?” You took your hand from his face and he used his Evol to bring it back to his cheek. The mist around your fingers felt weird, but not unpleasant.

“For a weekend? No, no.” He locked his eyes with yours, his head slowly closing the distance between you. He licked his lips and looked at your mouth once again. “I am taking you away forever.” And before his lips managed to touch yours, you flinched. Your hands quickly pushed him away and the panic returned to your features.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I meant what I said. Pack your bags if you believe there is something that I cannot provide for you quickly enough, and we will be off shortly.” He said matter of factly, kind of annoyed by the distance you decided to put between you. “Luke and Kieran have already prepared a room for you, although I think that you will have more than enough space for your belongings in mine.” His eyes brightened with excitement that you unfortunately could not share. Instead, you lightly pushed his torso, making him lower you to the ground grudgingly. His brows were once again furrowed.

“I can’t go with you Sylus. At least, not for forever”

“You can. We can stay together for the rest of our lives and no one would have any objections. I took care of everything.” He reached to grab your forearm and stroked it softly with his thumb. He was so sure of everything he was saying, that you could feel how much he let himself get lost in his fantasy. It did make you feel wanted, loved even. But no matter how happy you were that he was real, and apparently shared your feelings, you couldn’t agree to his plan.

“No, Sylus. I need to stay here, I have built my whole life in this place.” You could feel how much your words shocked him. He was looking at you so puzzled as if he didn’t think that you declining his offer was even an option. “I can’t leave everything that I managed to achieve, I really am content with my life, despite how complicated it can be.” You said truthfully. A part of you wanted to go with him, to feel safe and cherished for, for the rest of your life but you knew that was not realistic. You wanted to achieve more, you wanted to have your own life and your own space. You needed to be independent, to feel that you were perfectly capable of caring for yourself and your own needs.

“I do not understand. Don’t you want to be with me?” It pained you how quickly he jumped to that conclusion. And you hated the look on his face - it made you feel like you were betraying him.

”I do want to! Oh my god— I really, really do want to Sylus. I don’t think that I can live without spending time with you anymore.” You smiled at him, and took hold of his huge, rugged hand. “But I can’t live with you in the N109 Zone. I can’t leave my whole life behind.” And the fact that he wanted to make you do that somewhat scared you. Made you feel distressed.

“I see.” He sounded deep in thought. Then, he broke the eye contact for a second, looked at his hand in your hold and before you could even react, he grabbed your body gently with his Evol and picked you up. Your whole body was above ground and although you felt secured, you looked at him with surprise.

“What are you doing?” You wanted to get free from the hold of the mist, but it was impossible with how tight it was. “Sylus, you have to let me go.” You tried not to panic, you knew that you weren’t in danger. But he looked relentless, unforgiving as if his mind was already set in stone.

“No. I can’t. Not now when I finally got to have you.” He looked up at you, with his eyebrows still furrowed, and you could hear a hint of a growl in his voice. “If you do not wish to go with me, I guess I would have to take you by force.”

It was then that you felt a sense of panic. You knew him, and you knew that if he wants something, he always gets it. It just did not cross your mind that he would ever go against your own wishes.

“No. No, no, no, Sylus, please calm down.” He narrowed his eyes and stood almost motionless before you, devoid of almost any emotion. Almost, if not for the desperation shining through his movements. “You cannot take me away. At least not for now. But I will do anything you ask me to! You can also stay here for some time, and visit me whenever you want to, I swear, I would be so happy to have you.” You just needed him to listen. You knew that you could change his mind, he always listened to what you had to say, he just needed a little bit of persuasion. Maybe he didn’t even think about alternative options?

“And I would make you happy in the N109 Zone with me.” You laughed with disbelief. He was completely missing your point. You decided to once again yank your hands from the grasp of his mist, and then hissed with pain when it did not loosen up its hold. “Your struggle is futile, please stop, I do not wish for you to get hurt.” He was annoyed with you and your disobedience. He did not think that you would have any objections, he started loosing his cool.

“You would never let me get hurt.” You answered, wanting to assure yourself of it as well. You didn’t like how commanding he sounded.

“Yes.” There was no doubt in his voice. “Yes, you know I would stop at nothing to protect you.” His gaze never wavered from yours. He truly thought that what he was doing was for the best. And you just had to let him know how wrong his approach was.

“Yes! Yes I do know that! Because I know you, Sy.” You started to sound as if you were pleading. Deep down it scared you, send uncomfortable shivers down your spine. “I know you, and I know that you also know me.”

He placed his hand on his heart.

“And I adore every single piece of information. And I still wish to know you much, much better.” You tensed when you noticed that his right eye was starting to glow. You did not know if that was intentional, or just a trick of the light.

“Then you MUST know how much this life means to me. How much I like my stupid job, and how much I love the people that are here for me. My friends, my family.” You noticed that your reasoning started to get to him when he clenched his fists and avoided your eyes for a second. “And you have to know how much it would hurt me if you were to take me away from them.” He appeared taken aback. It seemed that his longing for you clouded his judgement, and now he started to notice the faults in his plan.

“But I cannot stand to be apart from you anymore, sweetie.” In normal circumstances that would be so touching to you. But nothing about this situation was normal, and you guessed you just had to show him how normal looked like.

“You won’t be. You can visit me anytime you want. Stay for how long you want.” You wanted that too. So bad.

“But that is not ENOUGH.” It was the first time you heard his raised voice and you started to tremble. His outburst must’ve thrown him off guard too, because he wavered and the grip he had on you loosed. You acted instinctively. You freed yourself from the mist and started to run towards your door. And although he was stunned by your reaction, he quickly teleported so that you ran straight into his chest. His hands grabbed yours in order to protect you from falling due to the impact.

He gently caressed your now slightly red forehead and sighed loudly. You could hear that he was hurt. You cried out from frustration.

“If you really thought that you could run away from me then you must be a total fool.” He tucked your hair behind your ear and lifted your chin up with his finger. “Usually I like playing cat and mouse with you, but I do not like the fact that you appear genuinely scared of me right now.” He hugged your waist and brought you closer to him, lowering his head at the same time. “And that you tried to run away from me when I only want to offer you my protection.”

“It doesn’t sound like protection, it sounds like imprisonment.” You used strong words, but you sounded so small. You did not know what to do with him, you were so scared. ”I’m just scared. I tried to run away because you scared me, Sylus.” You sounded desperate for him to understand you. To look past his own clouded vision.

“You do not have to fear me. I just want what is best for you. For us.” His grip on your waist tightened, and he also proceeded to grab your wrist.

“No. You only want what is best for you. You are not listening to me. I do care about you Sylus, but I cannot leave this place.” You tried to stand your ground but you two never argued before. It was an unfamiliar ground to you, especially when it was the first time that you had a conversation in person. Everything felt more intense and dangerous when you remembered the extreme measures he was always willing to take to achieve his goals.

“You can. And I will make you leave.” He almost growled and a cloud of black and red mist surrounded both of you, and that was enough to bring tears into your eyes.

”Sylus, no, please, I don’t want to. Please, just listen to me, please.” And it was at that moment he started to came into his senses. Your quiet voice and your eyes full of tears made his breathing stop. It was the first time he was seeing you react like this. He hated how broken you sounded. How small. “I’m so scared, Sy, please stop scaring me.” Your voice sounded choked and you could feel that the tears started streaming down your face. Every single one physically hurt him. It was your first meeting and he already made you so miserable. He wanted to scream. “Please.” You tried once again and it shocked you that it finally worked on him.

He tensed and released you from his grip. The mist also dissipated as he took a step back from you. You could hear him breathing deeply.

“I cannot do this." He sounded panicked. “I did not want to scare you, and I cannot listen to your little broken pleas. They break my heart.” He hidden his face in his hands and curled in himself. He felt as if someone pierced his heart with a knife and twisted it. He could not bring himself to look at your beautiful heartbroken face again. “They really do. Please, just stop crying. You won.”

You sniffed softly and touched your wet cheeks. You tried to calm yourself down, he finally listened to you.

“It does not feel so good this time for some reason.” You answered, referring to your Kitty Card battles. You wanted to relieve the tension somehow. You knew that he didn’t want to hurt you, you understand that he lives in a different reality where danger awaits everywhere. You could understand why he wanted to have you beside him at all times. But it scared you how insistent he was, how brutal and final. “Do you really understand why I got so scared?”

He nodded helplessly. “I won’t steal you away. Not when I know how much you despise the idea of spending the rest of your time with me.” You noticed how hard he was pressing his hands to his face and you grabbed them in your own. He let you uncover his eyes and you saw how much it hurt him to let you go.

“Oh, Sy.” You whispered and hugged his hands to your chest. “You know that’s not the reason.”

“Stop calling me that. It drives me crazy.” He breathed and met your eyes. “You drive me crazy. What am I going to do with you? How can I make sure you are safe now?” You took his hands and made him follow you into your bedroom. You sat on your bed and urged him to do the same. This way you could finally talk with him more comfortably.

“Sylus, we have to talk about it.” You squeezed his hands and he looked at yours and took notice of how much smaller they were in comparison to his. So fragile, so breakable. He couldn’t stand it. His whole body longed to protect you. “I do not despise the idea of spending my time with you. I just can’t randomly leave everything I know and love. And this world is different from the one you know, we have our dangers but no one wants my head.” You explained to him slowly. “There are no Wanderers. No protocores.” He looked conflicted.

“I already know that sweetheart. I do. But when you disappeared for such a long time I couldn’t help but think that something bad happened to you” he gritted through his teeth. “I nearly lost my mind looking for you everywhere. It was terrifying, that thought in my mind and the idea that I would never have another chance to speak with you. To see you.” He touched your forearms and brought you a little closer to him. “And when Mephisto found you safe and sound I thought that I never want to feel that fear, that helplessness again. And the only way to do that is to keep you beside me at all times. To guard you with my own body and soul.” He took your hand and rested it on his chest. You could feel the fast and steady rhythm of his heart. You could feel his desperation, his complete devotion. And it almost made you tear up.

“I-I’m so sorry that I made you worry this much.” He studied your face with intention and you shake your head. “But I didn’t even know that you were real. I really though it was just a game that made me feel less alone and now…” You swallowed audibly. “Now I know that everything I built with you during our time together was very much real and I’m still having trouble to wrap my head around it to be honest.” I smiled at him softly and he nodded with understanding.

“And then you came in and wanted to kidnap me to a world much more dangerous than mine where I do not have my close ones and—“

“I did NOT mean for that to be a kidnapping I though that you shared my sentiment, and also wanted to spend some time—“

“SOME time?? Sylus you wanted me to switch literal worlds and live with you in your freaking villa in the middle of nowhere—”

”I live in an apartment that has a fantastic location, mind you, and you would feel so comfortable in—“

”Apartament??? You cannot possibly be a freaking leader of Onychinus and live in an apartment complex, are you being serious with me right now??”

“Have you ever heard of a saying that the darkest place is under the candlestick, kitten? Besides there is no one in the whole N109 zone that would pose and actual threat to me—” He cut off when he met your eyes full of laughter, and then he heard that beautiful sound. You burst into giggles right in front of him and you touched him by the bicep and brought his forehead to yours. He couldn’t help but chuckle too, understanding the absurdity of the situation. Feeling your forehead against his, hearing your adorable chuckles and inhaling your sweet scent made him feel so at peace that he closed his eyes to embrace the moment completely. He couldn’t believe that he almost ruined your relationship by being so selfish.

“I missed this. This back and forth with you” You said and he chucked deeply. “I really am happy to see you, Sy. And I swear that we will be able to talk and spent time with each other more often now. And actually see each other in person.” He nuzzled into your face more and you caught his smirk by the corner of your eye. “We can stay in touch at all times, so that you won’t have to worry about my safety so much.”

“So bossy, kitten.” He answered, but the small smile did not leave his face. He couldn’t make it go away even if he tried. “Forgive me for scaring you earlier. I was not thinking straight. I was just so elated to finally have you in my arms that I let my selfishness get the best of me, and for that I’m sorry. I did not want to ruin our first meeting, sweetie.” You hugged him by bringing your arms around his chest and he closed his eyes drinking in the proximity. You were too small, too adorable, too attractive for him to take it. Too honest. Too lovable. Made just for him to adore. To protect.

“You did not ruin anything.” You said into his shirt, hugging him tighter. “I understand you, Sylus. And I like you a little selfish if it means that’s what brought you to me” He smiled into your hair and reluctantly let go of your fragile frame. He touched your chin and delicately lifted your face up to face him. His eyes were once again drinking you in, committing every single one of your features to his memory. He sighed contentedly.

“Selfishness was not the reason of my visit.” You could see how his eyes softened and you felt your chest squeeze. You brushed his cheek, loving the way how he seemed to relish in your touch. His eyes wandered to your lips: pink, plump and so inviting. “Adoration was. The complete love and devotion that I have felt for you for quite some time now.” You gasped quietly and opened your lips slightly, which didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“Sy—”

“And I guess a little emotional push was what made me finally find my way to you, my beloved.” He half-whispered, leaned in, and pressed his lips to yours, locking you in a sweet, passionate kiss that went on and on, seeming to deepen with every minute you spent in his embrace.

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙ ⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Overblot Universe (4) | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

Part 1 • 2 • 3• 5

There he was 

The first overblot you witnessed 

The Overblotted Riddle was as regal as ever 

Standing above your gilded bed fit for royalty decorated by arches of spinning ink 

You could see guards that looked similar to the entrapped dormmakers during the event

Standing in front of heart shaped doors that resembled an inky reflection of the Heartslabyul’s dorm

“Look at me when I’m talking to you, (Y/n). I haven’t forgotten how you ran from my forces meant to bring you home.”

“I…was just scared. Your army was fighting with Jamil’s and I just didn’t want to get in the way.”

Riddle scoffed,”You think I’d allow any of my vassals hurt you?! I thought you heard me last time we saw each other.”

His gloved hands clutched your cheeks and chin forcing you to hold his gaze

“In my world, I am the law. I am order manifest! 

The words brought back the memories again

But you couldn’t drift off especially now that Overblotted Riddle was smiling 

You could practically smell the idea of something awful coming from him

He let his ink gloved hands trail from your jaw to rest around your neck

“I have been eagerly awaiting the day I’d meet you again. For so long I’ve been replaying the sight of the collarless king working alongside those rogue cards.”

He pulled away leaving a ring of ink that tickled your skin, shaping to hug your neck letting a black splattered rose hang from it’s center

“All this time I’ve thought about having you and now I’m this close to having everything be perfect.”

You watched his eyes drift down your body, letting yourself follow his gaze 

Finding your outfit to be matching his own, you hoped it was just the ink doing its things

He beckoned you to follow him 

And the moment you deliberated you could feel the bodice of your outfit slightly squeeze 

So that was it’s purpose+

You hurriedly caught up to him minding the overwhelming line of soldiers collared and at the ready 

“Riddle what do you plan to do?”

Riddle’s distorted chuckle exploded into a diabolical laugh

Calming himself he turned over his shoulder as you both left the dorm/castle for the garden

“I’m recreating where we met of course. An unbirthday celebration that changed everything. A coronation that would have been perfect if you and those cards didn’t ruin it.”

Arriving to the entrance of the garden it was exactly as he said

The table and treats for an unbirthday party all different shades of black with that sheen that said was ink

All surrounding a grand stage where to thrones sat at the edge of it

He took your hand, more gentle than you were expecting and led you on a red carpet that led to the thrones

Out of nowhere this Riddle brought out a box setting it on a pedestal

He opened it to reveal a crown…fit for a king

“Bow, (Y/n) and receive your right as my king.”

Idia’s crown flashed in your mind making you cower instinctively

His glare was paralyzing

“Bow. (Y/n).”

The pressure around your body was intense, as if sapping your energy to make you fall to your knees

Riddle sighs,”That’s good enough.”

He places the crown on your head 

It doesn’t hurt like Idia’s but it feels hard to remove 

And as Riddle helps you stand you can feel the something wet drip from the  crown and into your eyes

But it doesn’t burn…more like clouding your vision as you were led to rest in the throne

“Now! Bring the relic! It’s power will be what finalizes your king's coronation!”

Carried by many of the soldiers was the mirror–The mirror that you originally traveled to 

“That–”

“Recognize it? This is the accursed object that let me bring you here. But it’s done it’s job and no one has any intentions of you using it again.”

“Wait but I have—to–go back!”

The overblotted Riddle gave you that sly smirk all to similar to the dormleader you knew

“You’ll find that world will fade from memory when the portal does as well.”

With a trumpet sound and coordinated shouts an ink covered axe was brought to Riddle

Despite being so close you couldn’t lift yourself from the throne, courtesy of the ensemble you were wearing

You could feel your tears blend with the ink trailing down your face as the Overblotted Queen raised his axe to smash the mirror

You tried to reach in vain as he brought the axe down

You felt as though it was helpless 

Until you heard a whisper

“(Y/n) don’t despair we wouldn’t leave you by yourself.”

A new bout of energy let you sit up

“Oh my gosh! It’s you! You’re here!”

“Hush, we’ve got to be quick the main event is on its way.”

“I summon thee cauldron!” 

[seongwars]

forget me not | vii

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x witch!Reader AU: non-idol | supernatural Summary: Yunho should be happy--he's got everything going for him and he's set to marry the love of his life! So why is he standing outside of your shop on the night of his engagement party? Word Count: 7.4K Warnings: poorly written SMUT (cunnilingus, unprotected p in v), swearing, fluff, hurt/no comfort

Fic Masterlist

a/n: read fate bound for context and listen to silver springs by Fleetwood Mac, k bye

You sat on the edge of your bed, gripping the covers tightly as a dull, relentless throb pulsed through your skull. Your vision wavered in and out of focus, as if the world was shifting beneath you and you couldn’t find steady ground.

You wiped at your tears, hands shaking uncontrollably. It wasn’t just the physical pain—it was as if the memory you had seen moments ago had ripped something open inside you, something deeper and more primal than you could understand. 

Jongho’s quiet, steady presence grounded you as he entered the room. He moved deliberately, swiping through his medical tools that floated in the air. He was focused, gentle as he examined your head, his fingers pressing lightly against the spots where the pain seemed to sear the most. His touch was clinical but comforting, the faint hum of magic from his hands soothing the sharp edges of your migraine.

He took a deep breath before manifesting an intricately carved device from his bag. He held it up and flicked it on, the tip glowing with a soft, steady light. He shined it into your eyes, watching the way your pupils reacted, murmuring something under his breath that you couldn’t quite catch.

The pain behind your eyes spiked sharply, making you wince as fragments of visions began to flood in—faces, voices, moments of another life. In the visions, you could see Yunho—sharp, detached, devoid of the kindness you once knew. Your heart raced, and you felt a cold sweat break out across your skin as the memories clawed their way to the surface. You couldn’t control them, couldn’t stop the rush of fragmented emotions they dragged with them.

Jongho clicked off the light and sighed, pulling back to observe you for a moment, his brow furrowing in thought. “That wish,” Jongho began, “definitely weakened your magic and the shop’s hold on you.”

Your brow furrowed as you processed Jongho’s words, eyes narrowing. “Meaning?” you urged quietly as if you feared the response. 

“Yunho’s wish reversed the magic that erased your memories and restored them. Fragments of your past lives, of your connection to him, and to this realm are coming back in pieces, but it’s causing immense strain on your mind and body.”

“Memories?”

“Your mind is attempting to reconcile the past with the present, to piece together everything that was erased. The migraines will subside eventually,” Jongho assured you, his voice calm and steady. 

“In the meantime, get plenty of rest and no strenuous activities. I do hope you enjoy your time off from the shop, my lady.”

As he spoke, his medical bag—hovering midair like it had a mind of its own—began to respond to his movements. With each flick of his wrist, instruments and vials floated back into place, reorganizing themselves with a series of smooth, mechanical clicks. With a graceful dip of his head, Jongho stepped back from you. His form shimmered, growing fainter, until all that remained was a trail of smoke curling in the air. 

You blinked at the now-empty space, rubbing your temples as the dull throb of the migraine continued to pulse beneath your skin. 

“Why do I have a feeling everyone in the magical realm knows about this outing?” you muttered, turning to face Wooyoung and Hongjoong as they made their exit from your room. 

“Word travels fast,” Wooyoung said with a shrug, his voice light and teasing. “Get some sleep.”

You offered a weak smile in response, but your mind was elsewhere. As Wooyoung moved toward the door, you glanced at Hongjoong, a knot tightening in your chest. A thousand questions swirled in your mind and you couldn’t let him leave without asking. 

“Did you know that this would happen?”

Hongjoong paused in the doorway, the usual lightness that accompanied his presence was replaced by something more somber. He exhaled slowly through his nose, leaning back slightly as if bracing himself for the conversation ahead. 

"I had my suspicions," he finally admitted, his voice softer now. "When I granted your wish, there was resistance. That’s when I realized there was a magical force tied to you—something inevitable, woven by Fate herself."

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked, confused. 

“There’s no way I could go against anything predetermined by destiny,” he replied. “I must say, Yunho’s desire to set you free probably surprised the emporium itself,” he added, almost as an afterthought, as if that part had surprised even him. 

You let out a breath, trying to absorb the weight of his words. There was so much you still didn’t understand—so much you wished he had told you before—but part of you recognized the truth in what he said. Fate had its own rules, its own way of working, and no matter how much you fought it, some things were simply destined to happen.

Hongjoong gave you a small, knowing smile then, his tone shifting back to its usual playful cadence. “You should rest before your getaway this weekend,” he teased, his eyes glinting mischievously as he leaned against the doorframe. 

“Wouldn’t want you getting sick during your date with Yunho, would we?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden change in mood. “It’s not a date,” you sputtered, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. But Hongjoong just raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening.

“Sure, sure,” he drawled, clearly unconvinced. “You two are just going to the beach, alone, for the weekend…no date at all.”

Hongjoong left, closing the door to your room with a quiet, final click. The sound echoed in the stillness, and you slumped under the covers, your body heavy with the weight of what he had just revealed. 

The truth was overwhelming. How could you possibly make sense of it all? How could you begin to reconcile the life you thought you knew, with the life you had apparently lived before entering the emporium? You couldn’t even remember that version of yourself, and the moments that had shaped the bond between you and Yunho. 

All you had were vague impressions and fleeting feelings that left you both terrified and comforted.

⋆

"I can do this," you whispered to yourself, your fingers trembling slightly as you held the door of the emporium open. The familiar scent of jasmine incense and old books wafted from behind you, mixing with the sharper, vibrant smells of the world outside. 

You glanced out the wide-open door, the sunlight streaming in like an invitation. It felt like the edge of a cliff, daring you to leap into the unknown. Beyond that door is the chaotic, bustling human world—the one you've watched but never stepped into since becoming the emporium’s keeper. 

"The shop isn’t going to stop you," Wooyoung chirped from his seat in the counter, legs swinging slightly with a lollipop in his mouth. "It’s rude to keep Yunho waiting," he added, the teasing edge replaced with something more sincere. 

You opened your mouth to protest, the words forming on your tongue before you could stop them. "But—"

"There are no buts!" he interrupted, his voice louder now, impatient. "Are you seriously going to keep the love of your life waiting, or what?" He raised an eyebrow, giving you a pointed look as if daring you to argue.

Your cheeks flushed at his boldness, and you crossed your arms, grumbling under your breath, "He’s not–"

Wooyoung chuckled, shaking his head as he waved a hand dismissively. "Fine, fine," he relented, though his grin only widened. 

"Your soulmate, then."

You shot him a glare, but there was no denying the way your heart leaped at the word. Soulmate. It felt heavy and loaded with meaning and expectations you weren’t ready to face. Yet at the same time, you yearned for it. Despite your hesitations, there was something in you that craved the connection with Yunho. That craved him. You loved Yunho in a way that felt deeper than you had ever known. It was more than just affection, more than just a desire to be near him—it was as though your very being resonated with his.

Yunho took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. His eyes flickered to the door of the emporium for what felt like the hundredth time in the last few minutes. He couldn’t help but feel like a teenager waiting for his crush, that same flutter of nervous energy coursing through him. 

His hand tightened slightly on the roof of the car as he spotted movement at the door. There you were, lingering at the entrance, hesitating. His heart gave a little jump at the sight of you. Despite the anxiety buzzing in his chest, just seeing you—standing there–made everything seem a little more bearable.

He stepped around the car, worried that you would change your mind. His breath caught in his throat as your gaze flickered to meet his. For a moment, he thought you might turn back, retreating to the safety of the shop’s shadows. But instead, you stood still, eyes searching his face for reassurance.

"You’ve come this far. Don’t let fear hold you back now," Hongjoong encouraged from behind the counter. 

Your heart calmed as you focused on Yunho. You can do this. You have to. The shop isn’t trying to stop you. There’s no invisible force dragging you back. Yunho's steady gaze promised that nothing bad will happen once you take that first step.

His soft, patient smile and presence alone made the unknown seem less daunting. He’s the thread that pulled you toward something tangible, something real. No matter how deep the emporium’s magic runs, Yunho was your tether to the world outside.

And then, you stepped forward.

You took a deep breath, the air outside smelling fresher than you remembered. Slowly, you lifted one foot and placed it on the sidewalk beyond the emporium’s threshold. The pavement beneath your shoe felt real—solid and grounding. You waited for a pull, some magical force yanking you back into the safety of the shop, but nothing came.

You took another step, then another. The bustling sounds of the city—cars, chatter, life—gradually filled your ears as the magic of the emporium faded into the background. For the first time in what feels like forever, you were standing on the other side of that threshold.

Free.

You paused and glanced back at the shop. Its door remained closed behind you, quiet, as if respecting your choice to leave, even just for a little while. 

You exhaled, a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, and a small smile tugs at your lips. "I... I’m free," you whisper to yourself, the excitement of the realization coursing through your veins.

“Hey,” he said gently as he stopped in front of you. His hand rested on your arm, grounding you in the moment. “You okay?” His voice was so tender, as if he was afraid you might change your mind at the last second.

"I’m okay," you murmured, your smile growing. "I just...I can’t believe I can leave the shop whenever I want to." The words felt foreign on your tongue, but at the same time, they carried so much truth, you couldn’t help but feel giddy.

“You did it,” he said softly, pride evident in his voice. His hand slid down to take yours, fingers gently intertwining with yours like it was the most natural thing in the world. “I’m proud of you.”

“Yeah…same,” you breathed, meeting his gaze. 

You ready?” he asked, but his tone was playful now, the anxiety replaced with a light-heartedness that made you giggle.

“Yeah,” you nodded, feeling the excitement bubbling up again. 

“Then let’s get out of here.”

Without letting go of your hand, Yunho gave it a gentle tug, leading you toward the car. As you slid into the passenger seat, you couldn’t help but feel the thrill of anticipation fluttering in your chest. 

“Young love,” Wooyoung sighed dramatically, watching with a fond smile as you and Yunho drove off.  

Hongjoong, however, wasn’t having it. He stood with his arms crossed, brow furrowed like a disapproving father watching his daughter head out on her first date. His narrowed eyes were fixed on the fading car.

"Is this what it’s come to?" he muttered, shaking his head. "Watching her drive off into the sunset, with Yunho?”

"Relax, Dad," Wooyoung teased, the playful tone only making Hongjoong huff in response. "Something tells me they’ll be just fine."

You and Yunho arrived late in the afternoon, the golden hues of the setting sun casting a warm glow over everything as the ocean breeze gently tousled your hair. The air was filled with that familiar, salty tang of the sea, and for a moment, it felt like stepping into a memory—even if you couldn’t quite remember it.

Yunho pulled into the driveway of a cozy seaside cottage, the kind that felt like it had been there forever.

"This is where we stayed during the summer as kids," he said softly, glancing over at you with a hopeful smile. 

"I thought that by coming here, it might help with your memories."

The little house, the ocean just beyond, the faint sound of seagulls in the distance—it all felt strangely familiar, like a dream you couldn’t fully grasp. But more than anything, it was the warmth in Yunho’s voice, the gentle way he was looking at you, that made you feel…safe.

You smiled at him, feeling the tenderness in his words. He had brought you here with hope in his heart, thinking it might spark something within you. 

“I appreciate it, really,” you replied, offering him a small smile. “Even if I can’t remember everything, I know that this is at least a start.”

Yunho’s eyes softened as he held your gaze, his expression full of quiet understanding. Whatever you couldn’t remember didn’t seem to matter in this moment. Being here with him felt…right.

But then, the spell was broken by the sudden sound of his stomach gurgling loudly. He blinked, his eyes widening in surprise as the unmistakable noise of his stomach made itself known. His cheeks flushed a soft shade of pink, and before he could stop himself, he let out a sheepish laugh, the sound breaking through the tension. 

“Let’s unload, and then we can grab something to eat,” he suggested, his voice as casual as if you’d done this a hundred times before. “I know a place.”

As the two of you strolled through the quaint town, Yunho pointed out all the spots where you used to visit.

"That’s the ice cream shop we went to every summer. You always got matcha, even though you’d end up stealing my salted caramel," he teased, nudging you playfully as you passed the familiar storefront.

You laughed, the image of a younger you doing exactly that playing in your mind. "We should stop by for dessert, except maybe this time I’ll have the salted caramel.”

A little further down the road, Yunho’s eyes lit up as he pointed toward the boardwalk. "And there," he said, his voice softening, "that’s where you won the puppy plush." His smile turned fond, his gaze lingering on the spot. 

“You were so determined to win it, and somehow beat the system on your first try. You were pretty good at shooting.”

Something about the way he spoke, the way his eyes sparkled with the memory, made your heart swell. You could almost picture it—your younger self, beaming with pride, clutching that puppy plush as if it were the greatest prize in the world.

As the evening rolled in, you found yourselves at a little restaurant by the beach front. You sat across from each other, as Yunho guided you through the fragments of memories that slowly began to feel less distant. He painted vivid pictures of your childhood, his voice warm and full of fondness for those simpler days. 

“We used to spend entire afternoons at each other’s houses,” he began, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

“Most of those days were either trying to stop Gunho from doing something stupid or helping your dad grow the ultimate vegetable.” His eyes grew distant, like he was reliving each memory as he spoke.

There was a certain magic in those days, when the biggest concern was who would win the next game or who could build the tallest fort. It was a time before the weight of growing up had set in.

“And baseball.” He chuckled. “Baseball was always there, too. I’d always insist on batting while you pitched because you had the better arm. You never missed.” He glanced at you, the corner of his mouth lifting in a knowing grin. 

Yunho’s grin widened, his eyes gleaming with playful mischief as he continued, “You tried convincing me that the Samsung Lions were better than the Tigers. I think it’s the only real argument we had as kids.” 

“I think blue still looks better on you.” The words slipped out before you could stop them, and for a moment, you weren’t sure why you said it. Maybe you had told him the same exact thing before.

Yunho’s expression softened as he continued. “You know, you were a great artist,” he began, his voice tinged with admiration.

“Every time there was a school festival or some club event, it was always the same—everyone would come running to you, asking for help with posters or signs.”

He chuckled, the sound warm and familiar. “But you’d always turn them down,” he said, shaking his head as though the memory amused him.

“You’d tell them you were busy, then you’d go right back to drawing in that journal of yours. I used to think you were hiding something in there.”

The mention of the journal stirred something deep inside you, a sense of loss that clung to the edges of your mind. You had always been protective of it, guarding it like it held the most important pieces of yourself. But now, the very thought of it brought a dull ache that began forming behind your eyes, slow and insistent. You pressed a hand to your temple, trying to will the discomfort away, but the memories came flooding back, vivid and cruel.

Sungjae flipped through the pages with exaggerated movements, revealing sketch after sketch of Yunho. “Look at this!” he laughed, his voice dripping with mockery as he showed Yunho your illustrations. 

“You’ve got a whole gallery dedicated to him!” He turned to face you, your cheeks burning with fury. “What are you, obsessed with him or something?”

“Y/N? Are you okay?” Yunho’s voice was filled with worry as it pulled you back from the memory. His hand hovered near yours, unsure but ready to offer comfort if needed.

You blinked hard, trying to steady yourself, but the edges of your vision wavered, and you could feel the tears threatening to spill over. You nodded even though the pain was still there, pounding in your head. 

“I…I’m fine,” you lied, grabbing your glass of water. “It’s just a headache,” you added quickly, trying to explain away the unease. “I’m probably dehydrated.”

Yunho’s brow furrowed, his eyes searching your face for any sign of the truth. “Do you want to head back?” he asked, his voice soft, careful, like he didn’t want to push you but didn’t want to ignore the obvious either.

You hesitated, the throbbing pain in your head clouding your thoughts. Part of you wanted to leave, to escape the growing tension and the memories that had started to unravel inside you. But another part of you didn’t want to cut the night short. Being here with Yunho felt like you were on the verge of something—something you couldn’t even name yet. 

“I’ll be okay,” you finally said, forcing a small smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “We can stay a little longer. I still want ice cream.” You tried to sound lighthearted, but you knew the effort was only half-convincing.

Yunho’s lips pressed into a thin line as he studied you for a moment longer, clearly unconvinced. But he nodded, his concern evident in the way his hand hovered near yours, like he was ready to catch you at any moment. 

“Alright,” he said quietly, “but let me know if it gets worse and we can leave, okay?”

⋆

There was something timeless about the way Yunho looked, as if the universe had carefully crafted every detail. The way his dark hair fell slightly into his puppy-like eyes, soft and warm, gave him a boyish charm. His lips curved ever so slightly, as if he was always on the verge of a smile, and you couldn’t help but feel as if he was meant to be…yours.

You glanced over at him, watching the way the fading sunlight settled across his features. He looked peaceful, his eyes fixed on the horizon, but there was a gentleness in it that made your heart flutter.

He must have felt your gaze on him, because he turned his head slightly, catching your eyes with a small, knowing smile. There was something playful in the way he looked at you, like he knew exactly what you were thinking but was content to wait for you to say it.

“Enjoying the view?”

You felt a blush creep up your neck, and you smiled back, trying to play it cool.

“Maybe,” you shrugged, “it’s not bad, I guess.”

There had been moments recently—small, fleeting things. The way he would look at you for just a second longer than before, the way his touch seemed more intentional, more deliberate. And you had felt it too, this slow, quiet shift. But you weren’t sure what it meant, and a part of you was afraid to ask, afraid to break whatever fragile thing had been building between you.

"How’s your head?" he asked, his voice carrying over the sound of the waves. 

“The migraine is gone. Probably thanks to the ice cream.”

“Must be the magic of the salted caramel,” he teased. 

You let out a soft laugh, but as the sound faded, you could feel the weight of unspoken thoughts settling between you, unsure whether to say what was on your mind or let the moment pass. Without fully thinking, you blurted out, 

“Do you…believe in soulmates?”

The instant the words left your mouth, you felt a wave of panic. Your face flushed with embarrassment as your hand flew to your mouth. Yunho blinked, surprised by your sudden question. There was a pause, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes before he smiled softly, the expression both tender and thoughtful.

“Soulmates, huh?” He tilted his head slightly, looking at you with an intensity that made you feel as if you were the only person in the world. “Why do you ask?”

You scoffed, feeling a little flustered. “Wooyoung mentioned something about us being soulmates once.” You rolled your eyes at the memory, trying to lighten the moment. “I thought he was being ridiculous.”

“Well,” Yunho said, his voice dropping slightly as he leaned in closer to you, “maybe he’s not so far off.”

Wait, what?

“When I’m with you, everything just…makes sense,” he began, the words heavy with meaning, like they had been weighing on him for far too long. He let out a slow breath, as if finally releasing a burden he’d been carrying for years.

“The night I showed up at the shop,” he continued, his voice quiet but clear, “I was desperate. I wanted a fresh start—a chance to rewrite everything because every choice I’d made felt wrong. I was miserable, I didn’t know who I was anymore, or what I wanted.”

He paused, searching your eyes, as if looking for reassurance, for a sign that you understood what he was trying to say. And you did. 

“But then…” His voice dropped lower, filled with a quiet awe that made your heart ache. “I found my way back to you. And after a series of twists and turns and some bullying from Wooyoung, I just knew…I couldn’t let you go again.” He reached out, thumb brushing tenderly over the back of your hand, the touch gentle but full of meaning. 

“If soulmates are real,” he whispered, his voice catching slightly, “then I’d like to think you’re mine.”

This was the deepest truth Yunho knew. There was no one else, and for him, there never could be.

“Yunho–”

Yunho squeezed your hand gently, as if grounding himself in the moment. His eyes, earnest and full of emotion, never left yours. “You don’t have to say anything right now,” he murmured, his voice steady but tender. 

“To be fair, I don’t think I’d be able to handle the rejection. But! I-I don’t want to push you, because I want you to know that I’ll wait. As long as it takes. Because…” His voice cracked ever so slightly as brought the back of your hand to his lips.

“It will always be you,” he confessed, so quietly it was as if the words were meant just for you to hear.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the weight of his words left you speechless. As your gaze met his, you found yourself caught in the pull of his eyes. And then you saw it—the sincerity, the vulnerability, the hope, all laid bare just for you.

You and Yunho walked back inside, the quiet comfort of the evening settling around you. As you reached the door to your room, you shared a small smile, both of you trying to hide the reluctance to say goodnight.

"I’ll...see you tomorrow," you murmured, as you gave a half-hearted wave from the doorway.

"Yeah…see you tomorrow," he whispered, his heart fluttering as you closed the door behind you.

But as the door clicked shut, you hesitated, your hand still gripping the handle, unable to let go. You stood there for a moment, that invisible thread tugging at you. Was he still out there? The thought crept in, and with it, an undeniable ache—the need to stay in his presence, even just for a moment longer.

With a deep breath, you slowly turned the handle and pulled the door open, half-expecting to find only the quiet emptiness of the hallway. But there he was, standing right where you left him, as if he hadn’t been able to leave either. Your eyes met, the air between you thick with anticipation, neither of you daring to move. 

Then, without saying a word, Yunho stepped closer, and you did too, closing the distance between you. 

The kiss started soft, tentative, as if testing whether this was the right choice. But when his hands slid around your waist, pulling you closer, something inside you broke free. You kissed him because you needed to, because you wanted to. Maybe it was a mistake, maybe it wasn’t—but right now, none of that mattered. All that mattered was Yunho, and this moment you had right now.

Yunho backed you up against the edge of the bed, his presence overwhelming in the most intoxicating way. His hands settled at your waist, firm yet gentle, guiding you until your legs hit the mattress behind you. You stumbled slightly, falling back onto the soft sheets, your breath hitching in your throat as you looked up at him, heart pounding with anticipation.

His hand trailed up your side, fingers brushing against your skin, leaving a path of warmth in their wake. He leaned down, his body hovering just above yours, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him, but still not touching. Without hesitation, his lips found the juncture of your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your jaw. Each kiss was deliberate, lingering just long enough to make your heart race, your body responding to his ministrations. 

You let out a soft mewl, barely aware of the sound leaving your throat, as his fingers found the hem of your shirt, teasingly brushing against your skin. In one smooth motion, Yunho lifted your shirt, pulling it overhead without breaking contact, his lips never leaving your skin for more than a second.

“This is what you’ve been hiding from me?” he murmured, voice low as he trailed his hand up your stomach to brush the underside of your breast. Your back arched off the bed when he flicked his thumb over your nipple, drawing circles before squeezing. 

"Shut up," you playfully smacked his chest, your voice teasing despite the heat rising between you. A soft chuckle escaped his lips, before tilting his head and capturing your lips in a kiss, deep and urgent this time, as if he couldn’t bear even a second of distance between you.

“It’s not fair you’re still dressed,” you pouted in between kisses, reaching for his button down. 

You hastily unbuttoned the shirt, pushing the garment off his shoulders, and it fell to the floor with a light thud. His hand came to grip your jaw, thumb pressing into the underside of your chin, tilting it upwards. Your lips met, and he nipped your bottom lip, tongue slipping past your teeth. You let out a breathy moan, eyes fluttering closed as you felt him press his erection against your clothed core. 

“Yunho, please,” you whimpered, hands grasping at his trousers. Your hands were shaking too much to unbuckle it, so he pushed your hands away, swiftly undoing it himself.

“Please what?” he mocked, kicking off his trousers to bite down on your nipple with a wet pop. He smirked at your flushed face as his fingers trailed down your stomach, teasingly dipping below the hem of your underwear. He leaned back, tugging off the fabric that separated you, and you felt heat creep up your neck and face at the way he licked his lips.

“I need you.” 

"Not yet," he hummed, refusing to give you what you craved except for a light smack against the underside of your ass. “Wanna taste what I’ve been missing.”

He hooked his fingers over your panties under the waistband of your shorts and pulled them off in one motion. He pushed your thighs apart, spreading you open as his lips descended to devour your heat. He groaned as his tongue made contact with your heat, savoring your very essence. The vibrations caused you to squirm, but Yunho held you still. He continued to lick at your heat, tongue dipping into your hole, then dragging up to press against your sensitive bundle of nerves.

Your breath hitched as you watched him, mouth falling open in a silent moan. A string of praises slipped past your lips, as his tongue pressed into your slit, nose brushing against your clit.

“Fuck,” you breathed, looking down at Yunho lapping at your folds. The sight of him between your legs was almost enough to send you over the edge as a weak, shaky moan escaped your lips. But you didn’t want to come undone without him inside of you. 

Your fingers gripped his hair, pulling him away from your dripping cunt. You yanked him towards you, capturing his lips in a searing kiss, moaning at the taste of you on his tongue. The tip of his cock brushed against you, and your entire body tensed with need. 

"I love you," he confessed, his hand intertwined with yours, fingers locking together as if anchoring himself to you in that moment. 

He leaned down for another kiss, groaning against your mouth as he pushed into you. The stretch of his thick cockhead had your back arching off the bed, and Yunho moved one hand to grab your ass, keeping you in place as he slid all the way inside you.

"Yunho!" you gasped, your walls fluttering around him as your head pressed back into the pillows. His hips pulled back slowly, almost all the way, before thrusting forward and seating himself deep. He repeated the movement, and you couldn't help the sounds that fell from your mouth as you felt him thrust in and out of you.

He pressed chaste kisses to your chest, your neck, anywhere his mouth could reach. Your arms tightened around his shoulders, pulling him closer, wanting to feel every part of him, every heartbeat. Yunho shifted positions, bringing one of your legs hooked around his waist over his shoulder, increasing his pace, where you suddenly found yourself teetering on the edge as you clenched around him.

“Like that, Yunho just like that!”

"Feel so good," he grunted, his hips snapping forward harder, faster and the pressure in your core grew. “So good for me.” 

Your mouth hung open as you could barely focus on anything Yunho was saying. Your face twisted with pleasure and your legs shuddered against his shoulder. “Fuck, I’m gonna come,” you cried out, barely contain the noises escaping your lips and Yunho was relishing every second of it.

"Come for me, love.” His breath mingled with yours as he brought his forehead to rest gently against yours, the closeness heightening the intensity of the moment. “I’ve got you.”

Your vision blurred at the edges, a wave of overwhelming pleasure consumed you as you rode out your orgasm on Yunho's cock. Every nerve in your body was alive, sparking with sensations that came together, making it impossible to focus on anything but the sheer ecstasy surging through you. Yunho’s hips stuttered against your ass as his own release followed, groaning into your ear as he filled you completely to the brim. 

The only sound in the room was the ragged rhythm of your breathing, mingling with his as Yunho pressed his forehead to the nape of your neck. The feeling of him inside you, so intimate and real, like finally grasping something you’d been reaching for in the dark. 

The man who had haunted your dreams, who had lived in the corners of your mind and heart for so long, was now here. With you. 

⋆

You crept out of the room, careful not to disturb Yunho as he slept beside you. The warmth of his body still lingered on your skin as you slipped from the bed, the sheets rustling softly as you pulled them away. You hesitated for a moment, watching him—so peaceful, so unaware of the turmoil swirling inside you. 

Another migraine. Another memory resurfacing.

The cool night air hit you the moment you stepped outside, a welcome contrast to the heat that had built up in your chest. You inhaled deeply, the salty air filling your lungs as you made your way down to the shore. 

The image struck you like lightning—a flash of a distant life, one of many you had shared with Yunho. You stumbled slightly, gripping your head as the pain intensified. 

Your eyes filled with tears as you looked at him, feeling the weight of his indifference. “Are you seriously telling me that your girlfriend’s shitty friend matters more than me? You don’t even like him, Yunho!”

Yunho looked away, his jaw set in a hard line. “Haewon’s friends are important to her, and I didn’t want to make things awkward.”

A bitter laugh escaped you, but it quickly turned into a choked sob. “So fuck my feelings, right?” you said, your voice trembling as tears streamed down your face. “You’d rather protect that asshole than stand up for me?”

Yunho’s eyes finally met yours, but they were empty, cold, devoid of the warmth you once knew. “She’s my girlfriend, Y/N. I have to prioritize her!” He spat, his voice growing harsher. “And maybe if you weren’t such a loser, always clinging to that stupid journal, you wouldn’t be in this mess! You’re so embarrassing, it’s pathetic.”

You felt as if the ground had been pulled out from under you. The words cut deep, each one a dagger to your heart. You took a shaky breath, the pain piercing through you. 

Your body trembled, curling in on itself instinctively as the memories, once forgotten, now surfaced with brutal clarity. Cold sweat broke out across your skin as you gasped for breath, each inhale shaky and uneven. Everything came crashing back, the hurt, the anger, the loneliness—and the emptiness that followed your disappearance. 

The night you disappeared—the fight, the cruel words Yunho had thrown at you—replayed over and over in your mind. He had blamed you, walked away, and in doing so, left you to unravel alone. 

Now, doubt began to cloud your thoughts, creeping in slowly, suffocating, making you question everything that had happened earlier that evening, and all your interactions with Yunho before. The confusion was maddening, and you felt yourself sinking into a pit of despair, unsure if you could ever climb out.

Yunho's arm instinctively reached out for you, but his fingers brushed against the empty sheets where your warmth should have been. Panic settled in and he shot up in bed, his eyes frantically scanning the room. 

You were gone.

For a split second, he froze, his mind racing with a dozen possibilities. But before he could think, he scrambled out of bed, barely pausing to put on clothes as he rushed toward the door. His eyes darted across the horizon, searching desperately until they finally landed on you, sitting quietly by the edge of the beach. 

Without a second thought, he made his way toward you, his footsteps quiet on the sand as he approached. He knelt down beside you, the tension in his body easing the moment he was close enough to feel your presence again. 

“You scared me,” he murmured softly, his voice barely audible over the sound of the waves. His hand found its way to your back, rubbing slow, comforting circles. “I woke up, and you were gone.”

You turned your head slightly, offering him a small smile, though there was a quietness in your eyes that hadn't been there before. “Sorry,” you whispered. 

“I’ve been having these migraines,” you sighed, leaning into Yunho’s touch. “Makes it hard to sleep.”

Yunho frowned, concern etched deeply into his features, and you felt his thumb gently caress your cheek before he pressed a kiss against your temple.

“They come in flashes like episodes from the past. I don’t really know how to explain it, but the most recent one…was with you.” You paused, gauging Yunho’s reaction, but he remained silent.

Neither of you spoke for a moment, the silence between you growing thick and heavy. This wasn’t how you had imagined this moment. This was supposed to be a chance to reconnect, but instead, it felt like you were standing on the edge of a cliff, one wrong step away from falling into an abyss.

“You told me that I was everything to you,” you finally said, the bitterness creeping into your tone despite your best efforts to stay calm. “So when were you going to tell me the truth?”

Yunho’s eyes widened as if the ground had suddenly given way beneath him. His lips parted, but no words followed—just the sound of his shallow, uneven breathing as the reality of what was happening settled in. His reckoning had come.

Your memories had returned.  

"Tell me," you demanded, voice trembling with the weight of years of pent-up anger and hurt, "were you ever going to tell me the truth about how fucking horrible you were to me?”

"Y/N.” There was a desperate, pleading look in his eyes, hoping that somehow, you would understand that he regretted everything—every word, every action, every painful second of his silence that night.

“Please…just let me explain. I–" His voice cracked, and he clenched his fists, trying to steady himself. "I never meant for it to go that far. It was wrong of me to take it out on you. I didn’t know–"

"You didn’t know how to what?” you interrupted, voice rising. “How to stand by me when I needed you?"

"You left me, Yunho. You blamed me, doubled downed on me, and called me pathetic.”

Yunho winced as if the memory physically pained him. “Y/N, I didn’t mean it,” he choked out, his voice barely holding steady.

“I’m so sorry—God, I’m so sorry. I’d take it all back if I could.”

You let out a hollow laugh, the sound devoid of any warmth. “Didn’t mean it?” Your eyes burned with a fury that had been waiting for this moment. “You didn’t care enough to mean it.”

Yunho recoiled again, eyes wide, his breathing shallow. His mouth opened, but no words came—just the unbearable silence between you.

“Some shit friend you turned out to be,” you continued, your rage impossible to contain.

“You cared more about what they thought of you than standing up for me. You let me take the fall because you were too scared—too scared of what people would think if they saw you defending someone like me. Someone who didn’t fit into their perfect little world of what was acceptable.”

“I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness,” he began, voice rough with emotion. “And I’ll always regret that I wasn’t the person you needed me to be. I let you down, and I’ve spent every moment since thinking about that night.” 

“You regret it?” you spat, your voice quivering with disbelief. “That’s it? You regret it, and now what? We just pretend that’s enough? That I’d move on like you didn’t tear me apart?” 

You paused, your breath ragged as you struggled to keep your emotions in check, but the weight of the moment was too much, the years of buried hurt and confusion rising to the surface as tears blurred your vision. 

“I loved you, Yunho. I loved you so much, I would have done anything for you. But I realized that no matter how connected we are. No matter how many dreams or lifetimes I see you in, you never changed for me. But for others, you did.”

Yunho’s face paled, the color draining as your words hit him like a blow. It was as if everything he believed about fate—about you and him—was suddenly crumbling beneath him. His breath quickened, and he searched your face, desperately trying to find something, anything, that would reassure him this wasn’t happening. That this wasn’t the moment he lost you.

“I was never going to run from this,” he replied, his voice soft, but no less urgent. "I’m scared because I don’t want to lose you, but I’m not trying to pretend like it didn’t happen. I know I hurt you. I know I fucked up.” His words came fast, desperate, as though if he spoke them quickly enough, they could stop you from leaving. 

“I’ll face everything—the mistakes I made, the way I hurt you. Tell me what to do. Tell me how to make it right. I’ll do anything."

You turned to face him fully, the ache in your chest growing sharper with every second that passed. It would be so easy to give in, to let his desperation pull you back into his arms. But the thought of always wondering if he would ever truly choose you, was a weight too heavy to carry.

Tears blurred your vision, spilling over before you could stop them, and you could no longer hold back the sobs that had been building in your chest. Your shoulders shook as the dam finally broke, and the pain of everything you’d held inside came pouring out.

“I wanted nothing more than to think that we were meant for each other," you choked through the tears, the words barely audible between sobs. "That Fate was pulling us back together, that all of this was just part of our destiny, and that we’d be together." 

You paused, trying to steady your voice as the emotions surged. “But love shouldn’t feel like this…like something I’m always waiting for, only to be heartbroken over and over again.”

Your heart clenched, the ache almost unbearable as you fought to hold yourself together. But you had to let the words out, the one thing that had been tormenting your soul for what felt like lifetimes.

“If you’re willing to do anything… anything,” your voice broke as fresh tears streamed down your cheeks, your breath hitching between sobs. 

“Then let me go.”

<< vi | viii >>

a/n: just two more chapters and then the epilogue to go :D

taglist: @babymbbatinygirl @intowxnderland @hwasa28 @thedistractedwriter @beabatiny @lovelyglares @spenceatiny18 @tiny-apocalypse @sunnysidesins @heyitsmetonid @jwone @laurenwidjaja @potatos-on-clouds @xuchiya @syubseokie @jonghosbrainrot

[lilacxquartz]

under the bed, where midnight slept

oc male!demon x human female!reader

plot: haunted by a strange presence every night before you go to sleep, you decide to get to the bottom of it.

w.c: 2.4k

tags/themes: one shot, oc, maybe light yandere, kissing mentioned, incubus, demons, reader insert, first person pov, light horror, unrequited feelings

side notes: developed a incubus demon oc a couple of days ago :) his name is midnight & i’m basically gonna try writing for him on and off to flesh out his character (but i can’t draw more of him just yet due to the arm situation).

***

I always went to sleep alone.

Or at least, that’s what I kept telling myself—that’s what I wanted to believe. I lived by myself, after all, so it would have been silly to assume otherwise.

Yet, every single night, I felt it. A presence that lurked within the shadows, watching my every move.

At first, I chalked it up to simple exhaustion, convinced that my job was finally getting to me in the worst possible way. I worked long and heavy hours throughout the week, sometimes even during weekends. My unfortunate reality meant that I was often very tired, leading me to usually be on the brink of dozing off by the end of my shift.

But then my mind began to wander, especially as the recurring experiences became more and more commonplace. My secondary suspicion was that I must have been dreaming or I must have been hallucinating, however, why were the happenings then so linear? I had been under stress before and I have had many nightmares in my life—yet those always manifested in a chaotic manner instead.

And that’s exactly what started to bother me, because dreams, while recurring, couldn’t have been so perfectly refined.

It was always the same experience, in fact.

I would lie down in bed and just as I was on the verge of sleep, I’d hear it—a whisper of some sort, faint and scratchy, like an out of tune radio. Then the floorboards would softly creak and I would feel the second thing; the unmistakable presence of something, maybe even someone else entering my personal space.

For just a split second, right at the cusp of entering the unconscious world; I would feel a strange warmth fill out my otherwise vacant hand. Something unseen that would latch onto my palm, weaving what felt like fingers through mine and squeezing tight.

Yet if I awoke during the night for whatever reason at all, it would immediately vanish from my grasp.

I even checked under the bed with a flashlight once, never finding a single shred of evidence.

And in the mornings, the presence wasn’t felt at all.

Although sometimes, a trace of it did remain; a hint of something that was left behind. It was during the nights when I would get up to drink some water from the kitchen or to go use the bathroom, that I didn’t feel entirely alone. It was an unsettling feeling but it was there—lurking in my peripheral vision, just barely staying hidden.

It was the presence of something uninvited.

Whenever I’d flick the lights on however, there would be absolutely nothing. Not a single trace of evidence remained. Lost overnight, like a distant dream.

It would either happen just as I was about to fall asleep or not at all.

Despite this, it never truly felt like it was a problem.

For one, it wasn’t as if it was actually disrupting my sleep. In fact, I would always wake up feeling well rested with each fresh day no matter how overworked I would be. Yet, I couldn’t quite shake the feeling that there must have been more to all of this. Something that lurked in the back of my mind that refused to let it go as an unsolved mystery.

It made sense given my stubborn personality, I supposed. I knew that there had to be a reason for it all, no matter how insane it all seemed.

So when my unrelenting curiosity finally caved in, I could no longer ignore the unanswered question, knowing that I wouldn’t be able to let it go until I finally found an answer.

Whether it was all in my head or not—I had the right to know.

So, on one particular night, I chose to catch whatever it actually was that lurked away in the shadows. My plan was simple enough; choosing to fool it into showing itself by pretending to sleep. I slipped two wireless earbuds into my ears, tuning them into a podcast to hold my attention before laying off to my side, just like usual.

To ensure that I would actually stay awake however, I would on occasion stretch out my legs or clench my fists to ward off any hints of exhaustion along with deep, slowly measured breaths that casted the illusion of feigned slumber.

I continued with that sort of ritual in mind, just barely hanging onto my remaining consciousness, just about to fall asleep from what I believed to be a failed effort, but that’s also right about when I finally heard it; a subtle creaking, perfectly timed with each drawn out breath to mask its approach.

A shiver of unease crept into my body as I felt a lurking presence loom behind me, confirming to every sense I had that I was no longer alone.

In an attempt of bravery, I continued to feign sleep for as long as I possibly could, staying tucked away into my assigned position, having my hand right where it always was, hoping to successfully delude whatever it was waiting for me that I was actually on the verge of dreaming.

However, the moment that something slipped into my waiting hand, my composure began to crumble away. It was definitely a hand that I felt. I could feel it with every fibre of my being, in fact; so warm and soft, yet with an unsettling firmness, like marbled flesh. It clasped my palm tightly, interlocking its digits between my fingers in what felt like a suffocating grip.

My breath then caught in the back of my throat as the momentum faltered despite my efforts to keep my act running as smooth as possible. Towards the surface of my back, I felt something dangerous settle right behind me. Raw skin, hot against my own, pressed up right against my exposed flesh. A wave of panic coursed through my body, anchoring in the pit of my stomach as I then soon felt something attempt to embrace me.

I gasped in retaliation, unintentionally giving away that I was in fact awake.

Without even waiting for its reaction, my body involuntarily tensed, prompting for it to withdraw slightly and with a surge of adrenaline, I then tore away from the unknown presence—lurching to the other side of the bed and pressing my back right up against the wall.

I knew for a fact that it disliked bright lights, so my next course of action was to seize the opportunity of the moonlight that shone right outside to reveal its identity to me instead. With a swift pinch, I flung the blinds open, bathing my bedroom in a cold glow that revealed a monstrous figure to me, basking it in the soft blue light.

At first when I saw it, I didn’t really have a reaction.

I was left feeling stunned… speechless, even.

It was so beyond anything I could comprehend from this world, that I was left rendered unable to form a single coherent thought.

I mean, who could do anything different in my shoes?

Just over the bed sat a kneeling figure; its form shrouded entirely in wisping shadows—its body flickering like black fire with tendrils of darkness whipping from its void-like core. The creature’s eyes glowed a pale grey with lacking pupils, yet I knew that its gaze was pointed right at me.

My eyes continued to widen as I studied it—a rushed slurry of internal scolding flooding my mind, telling me off for daring to be so curious.

Back then, I didn’t know what to expect.

But it certainly wasn’t a monster.

Still, in spite of my fear, I couldn’t pass on the opportunity to learn more about the entity I shared a living space with.

With trembling courage and an insecure tone, I managed to utter, “What… are you?”

The creature’s initial reaction in response to me was to remain stationary, as if showing hesitation within its otherwise threatening demeanour. It then tilted its head to the side, emitting a low static-like hum that only continued to feed further into my unease.

Finally, however, it spoke.

“Don’t be afraid,” were its first words ever to me; it had a deep and almost melodic voice, almost human-like but tainted with something deceptive below the surface. I felt like a deluded sailor talking to a siren lost at sea, yet I was right at home.

I choked back any possible response I had brewing in the back of my mind though, paralysed by my own panic that locked my words somewhere far away. My heart thundered deep within my chest, drowning out all remaining rational thought and sent waves of fear coursing through my entire body.

I was trapped.

A tense moment passed us both by as nothing was said for a while, but then it started to back away from the bed and slowly arose to reveal its true height. Its features became clearer in the moonlight, revealing protruding horns from its head with long wavy locks of black hair.

I gulped hard as I watched it straighten its back and tower over me, its height just barely contained by the confines of my own bedroom—its horns almost scraping against the ceiling. I could just hardly, if at all, comprehend just how tall this creature truly was.

“I only wish to comfort you,” it insisted, taking a calculated step back. Whether it was to lull me into a false sense of security or not, I couldn’t be too certain and despite its words, I couldn’t shake the feeling of impending dread of it being an actual monster, at least at first.

Such a bizarre and surreal display left me wondering if I was in fact dreaming; my mind desperately grasping at anything that could have explained the impossible sight before me, but upon pinching my own skin, only the sharp sting of reality remained.

“Y-you’re real?” I could only ask, a hint of dismay colouring my voice.

“Yes,” it nodded, confirming my fears.

Another strained silence brewed between us for another minute. I stared at the monster and it looked directly back at me. I did my best in the meantime to express my visual discomfort, hoping that it would continue to leave me alone, however, it instead misinterpreted my stunned silence as an invitation to move forward and close the distance between us.

As it leaned in, I pressed myself harder against the wall in a last attempt to convey my reluctance, hoping—praying, that it would take it as a hint to finally back off, but it persisted, ignoring my silent protest and leaving me frozen from fear instead.

With continued building terror, I watched as the creature reached out, extending its hand towards me with what appeared to be sharp fingernails—brushing against my face before cupping my cheeks. I felt its fingers curl around the base of my skull, pulling me closer than what I was comfortable with, daring to press its face against my own, planting a kiss upon my lips.

I shuddered in relief as it slowly withdrew, leaving me once again separated away from it by a short distance. I still couldn’t make out a single feature on its form despite such closeness and yet the memory of its lips on mine lingered with the taste of its ashen breath.

I couldn’t help but feel violated after, yet some familiarity brewed, prompting a disturbing revelation to consider; has this thing done something similar to me before—perhaps when I was fast asleep?

My mind stirred at the thought either way, leaving behind a chill of unrelenting unease that rolled down my spine.

The monster continued to back away until it stood a comfortable distance away from me, leaving me feeling somehow confused. It was a strange situation no matter how I looked at it; it didn’t seem to want to harm nor consume me, rather only offering its touch and comfort.

It was almost as if it sought companionship from me instead.

I watched warily as it drifted just a little closer once more, as if struggling with its own inability to stay away.

“Please,” it pleaded, its tone bordering on desperate, “I only wish for you to sleep well.”

Perhaps it was the lingering aftermath of the kiss that was clouding my judgement, or maybe it was the lack of sleep after a long day, but something within me urged for me to finally surrender to its will, to let my guard down at long last.

Even if it didn’t feel like it was my own decision, at the time.

Swayed by a force unseen, relaxing my senses like some type of sedative.

So against my better judgement, I reluctantly gave in with a reassuring nod, allowing for it to move closer again all the while I did the same.

It wasn’t that I was suddenly unafraid of the monster that was on my bed, rather that I wanted for the peaceful nights to continue.

They were all I had left going for me in this otherwise unforgiving world, my only remaining comfort at the end of a long day.

I proceeded to lay back down on the bed, turning my body off to the side as usual, feeling its presence press against me once more. Its form seemed to envelop me; the shadows that spilled from its core encasing me in a suffocating shroud that pulled me into the darkness along with it. I felt as my own body gradually stiffened, slowly losing the ability to move a single inch at all, yet oddly enough, I didn’t feel a single hint of dread at all anymore.

All I felt was its comfort and warmth instead.

My eyelids drooped heavily as I finally surrendered to my own exhaustion, feeling them weld shut.

I then felt as the monster tightened its grip around me, pulling me even deeper into its personal space. Its breath felt fiery against my flesh as it dug its face into the crook of my neck, displaying an almost protective and maybe even wanting embrace.

As I drifted off into sleep and as its hold continued to tighten, it whispered something into my ear just as I was about to truly go under.

With a body that could have been sculpted from fire alone, its words felt somehow chilling and devoid of any remaining warmth. Its voice was no longer laced with a friendly tone, instead spiked with something much more sinister in its place.

“I’m never letting you go.”

And in that moment, everything changed.

My life was never the same again.

follow up story>>>

[greenlikethesea]

@sparklyslug and I commissioned the incredible @mardyart to draw a pivotal scene from our fic, Three Weddings and a Funeral, a part in our currently sprawling universe Let us Dwell in Fair Ithilien and There Make a Garden. For those who have read, you might recognize this as a scene from the third chapter, post [redacted] funeral, where Steve and Eddie have a conversation in the Byers-Hopper kitchen about what is deserved.

Thank you so much for this beautiful art, Mardy. We’re so unbelievably thrilled with the finished product, and we couldn’t be happier. You’re the best!

Referenced fic excerpt under the cut, for context!

 “Oh Joyce, love of my life,” Eddie says to himself, removing several pints of Ben and Jerry’s from the freezer and lining them up on the kitchen counter. Without even asking Steve for his preference, he wordlessly hands Steve the almost full pint of Cherry Garcia. He just knows which one is his favorite, apparently, which shouldn’t surprise Steve as much as it does. “Do you think it’s too soon to propose to her?”

 “I see your stance on asking people out at funerals has changed,” Steve remarks, ignoring the swoop in his stomach at Eddie’s (playful, completely not serious, Joyce is their mom) suggestion.

 “First of all, post-funeral is fair game,” Eddie says as he gets out two bowls and two spoons; he, like Steve, knows this kitchen like the back of his hand. Even knows where to find a jar of apparently unopened maraschino cherries, theatrically blowing the dust off the lid into Steve’s face, who in return theatrically coughs and gags. After a slight pause, he takes the pint of Cherry Garcia out of Steve’s hand and sets to making a little sundae for him. Steve can only dumbly watch as Eddie gives him two scoops and presses down on them so they’re a little softer, just how Steve likes it, adding a brusquely effective swirl of whipped cream, cherries on top, before handing it back to him. In Steve’s professional opinion, it’s a Scoops Ahoy-worthy performance. Makes him kind of wish the outfit was involved, mmm.

 “Secondly,” Eddie says, Steve doing a quick mental scramble away from the vision of Eddie in blue striped shorts and back towards whatever the hell they had been talking about, “I’m pretty sure a sexless marriage is out of the question for her, so it would be a swift no.” He’s less formal with his own ice cream prep, simply jamming a spoon into his own tub (Phish Food, which is just so typically him), whipped cream and cherries apparently forgotten.

 “She deserves better than that,” Steve says now, years later, chasing a stray cherry around the side of his bowl with his spoon. “And so do you.”

 Eddie gives Steve a look, a little bit of humor and a little bit of apprehension and a bit of evaluation. And something so unsurprised, too, a kind of fond      Jesus H Christ, of course smile manifesting just through the shadow of a dimple, not quite making itself entirely seen.

 “I know,” Eddie says simply. The quiet confidence of a man who does know what he deserves, does know that he can and should be desired. Treasured. And get what he wants. And who is, maybe, a little surprised that Steve knows that too.

 Steve pops the maraschino cherry between his teeth, flavor exploding at the back of his tongue, just this shy of too syrupy-sweet, as he looks at Eddie’s face. He can feel it coming in, then. The way he’s heard that the water pulls all the way back far as the eye can see, before a tsunami comes rushing back in. Has a sense of what’s heading his way, in the time that it takes for Eddie to shake his head ruefully and continue, taking his eyes off Steve’s face in an uncharacteristically indirect move. One of only a handful of times Steve can think of, when Eddie hasn’t looked frank and fearless into Steve’s eyes.

 “You do too,” Eddie says to his bowl with quiet ferocity, and follows it with a spoonful of ice cream so quickly that it’s like he’s trying to stuff the words back in. Cover up the evidence with Ben&Jerry’s finest.

I love him, Steve thinks, the hundred-foot high wave coming in. Less devastating of a natural disaster, but sure as shit knocking him off his feet and sending him spinning. Hey, Eddie. I love you.  

[sceletaflores]

•｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ wip wednesday!

thanks for the tag angel baby @guiltyasdave <3 • 18+ under the cut! MDNI!

wip #1 • far too familiar a stranger…feat. logan howlett (& crimson!)

a long time ago, logan howlett knew a woman with your face…

i couldn’t not write a ‘worst!logan coming face to face with his tragically dead love interest but from wade’s universe after wade forced her to help them stop the TVA and hating her for bringing up that time in his life until he doesn’t anymore’ fic.

it's crimson because i felt that making whole new mutant reader would be sort of confusing so this fic is in the to the bone universe but it's not the same timeline...if that makes sense lmao

Wade Wilson is the worst neighbor in the entire fucking world. It’s really something you should have known sooner, like ‘the very first day in your new place ending with him breaking in through your window fully suited up after counting the floors wrong and bleeding all over your brand new pottery barn throw rug because he was still a little too concussed to walk’ sooner. Even after that whole fiasco left you with a broken window latch and a beyond fucked non-refundable $80 carpet, you still let yourself entertain his crazy. Just like everyone else whose life Wade crashed into, both physically or metaphorically. And once he's in, you can never really get him back out again. So yeah, maybe this whole thing is your fault. Maybe getting thrown into a barren, dusty void with two somewhat failed X-Men is just all your bad karma manifesting in one huge finger from the universe.

wip #2 • red and yellow kill a fellow! feat. logan howlett & wade wilson

logan doesn’t appreciate you letting wade get one up on him…

finally finally finally getting off my ass and writing logan x reader x wade! i was inspired by this one episode of satc (which is like my favorite show ever bee tee dubs) where charlotte goes out with two guys at the same time and she has sex with one but not the other until one of them catches her with the other guy and they all break it off.

my vision is a little different cause instead of getting mad and leaving when logan finds out reader fucked wade and not him, he figures it's his turn to get even. aka wade in the cuck chair and loving it.

The three of you pass a BMW sitting in a no parking zone, all four windows rolled down as Madonna blasts through the speakers. "So," Wade says, voice breaking the silence for the first time in five minutes. "Who white-washed your guts better?" You nearly trip over your own feet, whipping your head to gape at Wade. "Fucking excuse me?" "You know," Wade shrugs, like it's a perfectly normal thing to ask. The leisurely pace of his stroll not slowing, his hands still stuffed in the pockets of his jeans. "Who carved the lyrical railway better?" He just keeps going as you stare at him with a repulsed look on your face. "The number one stud that's stuffin' your muffin? That's takin the ol' bald-headed gnome for a satisfying stroll in the misty forest. Pick one hot stuff, they all mean the same thing." Before you can even answer there's a rough, questioning grunt from your right and your stomach flips. Oh. Logan, he was still here too. Still here and right next to you, listening. Oh yeah. "You fucked?" You still haven't slept with Logan yet. You turn to him face slowly, eyes a hair wide as you take in the sharp raise of his brow. "Um..." "Whoops," Wade snorts from somewhere behind your shoulder. "Cat's out the bag."

wip #3 • it's the easiest thing (just love me and eat me) feat. logan howlett

it’s not often that logan needs this, but you’re always more than happy to give it to him when he does…

the same requested sub!logan fic from last wednesday just with a new name and weirder energy! like this has really gotten away from me and turned into something that i can't really explain well enough to make it sound like chill...

lots of religious imagery and symbolism...and some metaphors of cannibalism...idk i'm just a girl with religious trauma and a weird blood fetish sue me.

You've come to think that being in bed with Logan is like being in church. The familiar weight of his body pressing you into the mattress is the alter. The heat of it like laying in the burning flame of a candle. The strong planes of his muscles each a different scripture that you take in by touch alone, skating your hands over his skin with something close to worship. Each bead of sweat on his skin feels sacred, a testament to the intensity between you, as though every part of him has been crafted for this moment of devotion. The hard length of his cock carves a place for itself inside you, each heavy smack of his hips punching another desperate sound out of your slack lips. His breath, deep and ragged, is a chant that pulls you into reverence. It puffs against the wild beat of your pulse, his lips brushing over the fever hot plane of your skin. The sound of your name pulled from his mouth sounds like a prayer answered. You can’t help but close your eyes, not in exhaustion, but in a kind of spiritual surrender, like by shutting out the world, you can truly grasp the divinity of it. There's a holiness to the way he holds you—like you’re the only thing worth believing in.

kisses!

no pressure tags! @ebodebo @artemis-b-writes @avocado-writing @superhoeva

[thelamb1429]

Soul Train

Eyeless Jack x GN! Reader

<3

This is part of a larger series i’m working on. For now i’m just gonna post lil snippets of the fanfic just to sort of get a feel for how i want the story to go.

This is also probably poorly written/has a lot of grammatical errors because i’m currently pretty sick right now so i’m writing with a scrambled brain atm. I’ll be back to spruce things up when i feel better!

STORY INFO/WARNINGS

Reader is gender neutral

This isn’t necessarily a oneshot, but i don’t know if i plan on posting chapters here on Tumblr when I should probably just post the whole story on another platform so that my art isn’t drowning under tons of stories lol

This part includes: Mentions of death, mentions of death regarding a parent, descriptions of panic, slight mentions of murder

Every single last ounce of oxygen seemed to be sucked from your burning lungs at full force, leaving you on your knees, coughing and retching while the silent vehicle raced down the tracks. Car after car flew over the metal just a few feet from where you knelt. The moment you could breathe enough for your vision to fade back in and your ears to slowly stop ringing, all you could see as far as your eyes traced down the railroad tracks was a never ending train. You sat there for about a minute, but it seemed like the train wasn’t ever going to end.

Nina looped an arm under yours to help you back onto your feet, and you were so out of it that you couldn’t even feel the pointy accessories on her arms and hands poke into your skin. Despite the train in front of you both not emitting a deafening whistle, the rustle of metal on metal was enough to block out any words she tried to get into your head. Everything in front of you moved in slow motion as the weight of the situation set in.

Jack was probably dead now.

You could have saved him.

He probably died thinking that you would get there in time to help.

Once again you went limp in your best friend’s arms, to which she stumbled and struggled to catch your weakened body. Nina eased the both of you onto the grass as the train finally passed and the red glare of the warning lights went dark. Her eyes looked past the tracks onto the dirt road beyond, as if to try and manifest the best case scenario. She wasn’t an optimist by any means, but she knew how much Jack meant to you. You two had been friends for years now, long before you went off to college. While the decked out girl holding onto you had never even met the guy, she felt a cold chill eat away at her spine as it rushed through her nerves, making the rapidly beating heart in her chest speed up with the anxiety caused by the both of you panicking.

But she'd known death much closer than you had. You had lost many loved ones, but her little hobby brought her up close and personal with it several times a week. For once, Nina felt a determination to lead that didn't scare her off. Calling the shots wasn't something that she liked to take charge of, but this was the perfect moment for her to take the lead, to do something helpful for you. She didn't have many friends, especially none that could understand her and handle her like you did.

Maybe helping you get to Jack could help you both strengthen the bond that was weakened by the argument from the week prior to the crisis at hand.

Determined to help, Nina once again hoisted you up and looked you in the eyes.

"[Name], I know that right now you're pissed at me. And I lied to you, I deserve your anger right now. But if we have any chance of getting into that forest and saving Jack, we have to get up and do it now. That cult— or whatever the hell they are— they're dangerous and Jack has no clue.

You love him, right? Then we need to get to him and get him back into your arms, safe and sound.

So take a deep breath and get up already! I can't find him on my own. I don't even know what he looks like!"

Nina pulled at your arms, groaning with the force of exertion she put out as you seemed to stay in place, frozen from the terror of losing the only man who you'd ever considered to have a shred of humanity in him. The only man who befriended you with no ulterior motives. The only man you knew who treated you as an equal.

You weren't gonna lose him. You had to stop mourning for a death you couldn't even confirm.

Much to your best friend's relief, you started running off past the cleared tracks, leading the way towards the countryside where the forest began. Cold, bitter air nipped at both of your bodies and filled your lungs, causing your throats to ache with the icy chill that seeped into you both as you inhaled air.

Contrary to popular belief, Nina was not good at running! She was used to cornering her victims in locations that allowed for her to easily escape and march back to her hidden little cabin in the woods at a leisurely pace. When she wanted to run, she ran pretty fast, but it was obvious that she wasn't used to running for so long. Since she was trying her best to help, you attempted to slow down just a bit so that she could catch up.

After five minutes of running down the road, Nina had to stop to breathe. She gasped for air as he chest heaved, trying to get more oxygen into her burning lungs. She looked up at you, taking in the panic evident on your face when she collapsed. Her mascara ran down her face just a little when her eyes watered from the excessive running.

"Go— you..you need to find him. I'll catch up, just go", she wheezed out as a cough wracked through her body.

The encouragement was all you needed to take off running once again.

Maybe it was the adrenaline in your body that kept you going, masking the ache in your chest and your legs from the constant sprinting you were doing. Maybe it was the fear that if you didn't suck it up and run, that it would be too late. Whatever it was, it caused you to keep running so fast that it felt as if you were gliding through the forest around you.

You had no idea where exactly he was. In fact, you were going in blind. But there was something deep within the core of your very being that seemed to yank you in one direction before leading you towards another.

All you could do was repeat a silent prayer that you hadn't said in years. Not since your mom died.

All you could do was pray to whatever higher being that could exist to let Jack still be alive when you find him.

Credits for the dividers i used go to poicelain and kgymz!! <3

[tadpolebobatea]

Live slug reaction: You already know what I’m gonna say. I’ll try and keep it to the absolute minimum

Do you think Tatiana knows what ruining the magic is? Do you think she knows what a furry is ?

The way Tatiana is unironically more of a bitchy diva character than kururu is. I cannot live laugh love in these conditions TOZUKA

Tatianas tragedy having nothing to do with her parents or her birthday feels really weird.

The main thing that made her tragedy so awful is because she lost the people dearest to her and afterwards couldn’t even gain new ones.

Tactical nuking a fashion show is obviously bad but it doesn’t feel as … emotionally gut wrenching as killing her parents.

As it is now she already can’t touch the people she wants to. Because of her modelling career. It doesn’t feel like getting that perfect photo should be the peak of her emotional fulfilment

I’d prefer for her to actually hug her parents, the poor kid.

(thoughts from chatting with cat (@your-zipper-is-down ) about it)

One last shot of sean gina chikara polycule. sean/gina are so annoying to each other I love them. Chikara is here to prevent them killing each other

I’m not fucking around man. You can tell me Tatiana is a perfectly normal age to be dating chikara. That she’s just short. But can you tell this panel that? She looks so young here.

(Yes I know it’s anime and everyone has big babydoll eyes and bobble heads but I need you to work with me )

What are you thinking tozuka.

I’m guessing they’re gonna try and make the UT area perceivable with like fog or something? That’s cool I think.

This panel really is pretty. She looks a lot like juiz which I think is cute. This outfit really is cool. love the boots very me coded

no no no no no

(no but really. Why are Sean and Gina making that face at each other???)

@wickedsick this image is why I didn’t post immediately. I had to share my vision

I’m confident I don’t have to explain why this is bad. Chikara graduated on screen, so he’s like… 17/18. Look me in the eye and tell me Tatiana is the same age. Or even close enough for it to be okay.

Yeah, I’m gonna go find a nice rock to live under if you guys don’t mind. You’re all welcome to join me

This image of tati and her plushies is my brain and eye bleach. I very much need it

Well I’m still really hoping this is a fake out if I’m honest… it’s not her birthday yet and her parents are no where in sight. I need more time tozuka. Praying it doesn’t manifest next chapter but well. so, mixed feelings overall.

I’m not sure if I dislike Tatianas characterisation here or if I just don’t like change. Have to sit on it for a while.

well. Until next time I guess

[miss-celestia13]

Hold Me Down

Jake x MC One Shot - Smut

Demons come knocking, and Jake almost lets them in, but Manon is there to coax him into the light, and remind him of what is real. You know by now that these can be read with no prior knowledge of my work. Plotless smut with feelings.

It’s another dual POV between Jake and Manon. Their names are bolded when it changes.

This will be the last one for a few weeks. At least. I have to return to Westeros and my dragons for a while now. I won’t be gone from Manon and Jake for very long. Manon doesn’t let me live in peace, she’s always yelling at me🤭❤️

“Jake! Wake up, it’s not real! Please!”

Jake heard her fierce and unyielding yelling as he glanced around his tiny dark prison for a crack of light or something that would tell him how to get out. Nothing jumped out at him, all he saw was black metal walls, a slow drip of water somewhere to his right, and his fear, a physical manifestation in the form of fanged shadows waited patiently behind him to take him down, down, down, where he belonged. She was out there, and he could do nothing, strapped and bound to a metal chair, blood rolling down his filthy face from the wound in his temple. The sleekit voices of his captors filtered through the dank air he could barely breathe in. His legs jumped and quaked, a sensation of something pressing down on his chest cut off his air, and his whole body shook again, harder this time. Rocking in time with the motion, Jake’s stomach roiled, and the buttery, iron-rich tang of blood at the back of his throat made his stomach fill with bile.

Manon’s curt tone cut through his panicking, fighting against his bonds. He snarled, biting down on his cheek too hard and spitting a mouthful of blood on the wet floor, and it bled like a bitch as he struggled to get free. Her sardonic laugh lifted the hair on the back of his neck, going very still as her measured steps came to a stop outside his cage, and she taunted the men holding him captive. Half in the nightmare, back inside that shipping container, beaten and broken, while Manon was outside, surrounded by his enemies, utterly alone. And his heart fucking sprinted in his chest as her smart-ass mouth opened, and she gifted her soon-to-be killers with a witches curse.

“Ah, I see. Thanks for the lesson, boys. I hope you get exactly what you deserve.”

No. He couldn’t take it. He started screaming. Voice tearing from him like an unearthly howl, and he thrashed violently, knocking himself and the chair over, landing with a grunting thud in a puddle of freezing, stinking, standing water. His scream echoed off the metal walls, bouncing back at him and mocking him as he lay there like discarded rubbish. Manon’s taunting laugh cut off, her silence more terrifying than anything he’d lived through. 

It was wrong. His world was her, her voice the only thing he ever wanted to hear, her fierce refusal to let anything break her couldn’t be snuffed out so easily, and a world without her wasn’t one he could endure. He was nothing if not stubborn, and he couldn’t succumb to despair now. He compelled his breathing to calm, feeling the rope binding his hands, slick with his blood as his wrists burned and rubbed raw, rope biting into his torn skin. A light appeared on the horizon, a mere pinprick, but he focused on it.

It was like swimming through molasses; the hands of darkness gripped him tight, slowing his escape, and he feared they’d drag him down forever if he let them. A gunshot cracked through the shadows, Manon’s cry of pain so real his head emptied, and everything inside him went cold, ice water replacing his blood as his mind flickered between reality and nightmares. A muffled thud and someone slapping his face, anger ignited so fast the shadows had no chance as it lit him up and he raced for the shimmering surface that would take him out of this horrid place. As a dark bedroom appeared in his vision, he swam for it and didn’t stop, didn’t allow the demons running around beneath his feet a chance to drag him back down.

Manon angrily swiped tears of powerlessness away as Jake spasmed and groaned, an edge to the fear now, her stomach a mess of acid and anxiety as his eyelids shivered and his mouth flattened, lips going white. He went still, muscles trembling as he strained. His breathing stopped, hers hitched, and hopelessness washed over her as she leaned in close, trying a more gentle route as shaking and slapping him wasn’t working. She brushed her lips over his, pressing in hard when his mouth parted, and he sucked in a breath. A relieved noise, a cross between a whine and a chuckle, slipped from her as she tried it again and tentatively pried his lips apart. 

Suddenly, he grabbed her and reared up. She was flat on her back, hands pinned above her head as his wild eyes stared through her, and she panted heavily as his weight bore her into the mattress. The dream still held him prisoner, his grip on her wrists tightening so much she winced as her bones groaned and bitched their complaints. Her heart rattled violently in her chest as no recognition shone in those magnificent eyes. Just horror and desperation, she didn’t struggle and lay unmoving as sleep cleared from his gaze and the whites of his eyes glinted brightly. 

She said, keeping her voice soft and slow, “Jake, it’s me, love. You’re safe.

The painful hold he had on her wrists slackened, recognition finally flared in his gaze, and he shuddered so ferociously her entire body shook with it. He released her, slumping back on his haunches as she eyed him, and her fingers tingled to touch him, but he scrubbed roughly at his face with a hand, silver sheened his royal blue gaze as he dropped it and he picked at his nails, wouldn’t meet her eye as his ragged voice threatened to break her heart.

“I’m so sorry, Manon. I am so sorry… did I hurt you?” he breathed, voice weak and pitiful, face drained of all color as she forced herself to smile reassuringly.

“Enough of that. I’m fine. Do you want to talk about it?”

Remorse limned every line of his body, eyes so hollow she wanted to sob as they locked on her, and the desolation in them near floored her as he shook his head and rolled off her. He sat on the edge of the bed, his back to her, shoulders curling in as he dropped his head in his hands and heaved a sigh so full of sorrow she wished she had someone to fight to make it go away. Scrambling to sit up, she did the only thing she could think to do. Plastering herself to his back, she slid her hands over his tense shoulders to settle on his chilled chest and gave him the heat of her body. Sluggish and gentle, she caressed him, touching any skin she could reach and holding her breath as he shook and leaned into it. 

His voice cracked, a lump in her throat as she listened, “No, I can’t talk about it, Manon. It’ll make it real, and I can’t – I can’t -” She thought his neck would break as he shook his head, breath bursting in and out of him, and she felt everything as if it were happening to her.

“Shh, love, okay. We won’t talk about it.” Her fingers tapped his skin, her chin on his shoulder as she hunted for something to comfort him. He looked like a ghost, and it frightened her. He was so close to locking away the last of his demons, and they were fighting back in a Hail Mary attempt to keep him trapped with them. She knew it well, had gone through it for years, and he had witnessed it more than once. Coming to a decision, she pressed a kiss into his bristled jaw and hurried off the bed, retrieving her old silk robe off the floor and slipping it on as she padded to the door. His voice stopped her, hand on the doorknob as she turned back to him, the war in his eyes driving a barbed blade into her heart.

“Where are you going?”

Her heart clenched, voice tight as she replied, “I’m going to get you something warm to drink, and then we’ll watch stupid movies in bed until the sun comes up.”

He was partial to old nineties action movies with terrible acting and cringeworthy dialogue. She would happily watch nothing else for the rest of their lives if it made the hollowness in his expression go away. She saw the words in his eyes from where she stood; he didn’t want to be alone.

“You can come with me, and we’ll camp in the living room?” She offered, smiling gently as he immediately nodded and clumsily rose to his feet.

She watched as he hunted for his boxers, shoving them on as she turned away. Now wasn’t the time to admire him. He didn’t bother grabbing a shirt as he ran a hand through his wild hair. She moved to open the door as he approached, but she was seized, hauled into him, and held so tightly she worried she would shatter as his hands roamed over her, and she had the curious notion he was searching for a wound or injury. His fear hadn’t been for him. She knew it for certain now. Clinging to him, she let him feel and closed her eyes against the searing emotion demanding an outlet as he loosed a relieved sound and three airy words were spoken into her hair.

“I love you.”

“I’m safe. It wasn’t real. I love you, too. I always will,” she replied, her voice laden with melancholia. She listened to his erratic heart beating wildly under her ear as he held her.

She studied his face when he loosened his hold; the shadows clinging to the edges of his sapphire eyes flashed and danced. She hated it. He didn’t deserve to suffer losing everything he loved over and over again, whether in dreams or real life. He’d lost enough, and she wanted to conquer the darkness in him as she took his hand to lead him downstairs. He followed like a puppy, limbs heavy and thumping as they hurried downstairs. She reached the kitchen doorway, eyes locked on the coffee machine and the heavenly nectar it could give them, but he called her name.

“Manon?”

She turned, her brows rising in silent question, and waited as he swallowed hard. His jaw could cut glass as he said, “I need you to sit with me for a while. It’s all going round in my head, and I can’t stand it.”

Her hummingbird heart lost its wings as she nodded, hurting for him as she followed him into the living room. He didn’t let her go as he lay down on his side on the massive sofa, leaving room for her as he pulled her down. She went to put her back to him, expecting his usual spooning so he could feel all of her, but he shook his head and urged her to face him, staring right into the soul of her as she settled down. They were tangled together, legs and arms like bindings around each other, skin and silk sticking as his hands smoothed over her back.

How long they lay like that, nothing but the wind and trees shivering outside to witness as Jake pieced himself back together and needed her warmth to do it; she didn’t bother to check as he stared into her like she was the only thing keeping him afloat. The silence grew too loud, and she had to fill it, take his mind off whatever he saw, and vanquish the cloak of despair hanging over him. 

“When I was a little girl, I used to have these dreams. They weren’t terrifying, but they were for me. I would come home from school, and Dad greeted me like normal, setting dinner on the table as I did my homework. But a woman was there. I didn’t really know her, but I knew her from photos. My mother.” She whispered, unsure why she was telling him about an old nightmare when he was still living one, but he was intently focused on her, his breathing slowing as he did.

She kept going, anything to stop him from thinking he’d lost her, “She would sit beside me, and Dad acted completely normal like this was an everyday thing. But even in my dreams, I knew it was wrong. I knew she was dead and shouldn’t be there. I questioned her, demanding to know who she really was while Dad tried to pretend all was well. My mother never blinked or answered, and I remember getting so angry I’d wake up crying. Confused and terrified because no one would acknowledge she wasn’t supposed to be there. When I eventually told my dad about them, he looked so heartbroken I regretted ever mentioning it. They stopped as I grew up, and it wasn’t until I lost my dad that I understood them.” She paused, mind whirring as she willingly went back to those horrific first weeks after her dad’s death.

“I don’t need to know if you can’t speak it, Sweetheart,” he muttered, eyes softening a shade, and she smiled softly, shaking her head as she got the rest of it out of her.

“They say spirits haunt the places they lived because of unfinished business. I don’t know if you believe in that, but I do, and my dreams weren’t my mom visiting me because she never knew me. It was my own guilt. I felt guilty that I never knew her and that I was here, but she wasn’t. I saw my dad’s grief every day and how he never loved again. He only had me. And then I lost him, and he haunted my dreams. You know how that goes, but my mom… I was always told I was so much like her. It was a guilt I didn’t know I carried. I don’t know what you saw, but I know it was about me. If you’re feeling remorseful about staying with me or something equally foolish, stop it. You deserve to be happy, Jake. To be free to live how you want and do what you want. I don’t give a fuck what you do to get there. As long as I’m by your side when you do it, I don’t care. I knew what I was signing up for when we got together. Nothing will take me from you now. I think I’ve proved that.” She winked, watching as his eyes dilated and dipped to her mouth.

He didn’t speak for so long that she worried he’d gone into some form of stasis, but he blinked, licked his lips, and said, “If you got hurt because of me -“

“No. We’re not doing this again. If I get hurt, it will be because of my actions- not yours. Don’t make me thump you,” she snapped, forcing a smirk at the end to soften her words as his mouth tried to curl at the corners.

His hands slid up her back, knee between her thighs pushing hers apart as he tugged her against him and sighed, “I’m sorry. I look at you, and you’re everything, everything to me. The thought of losing you or you being hurt to get to me… Manon, I’d rather be beaten bloody daily than imagine that. You’ve bled enough. I can’t stand the thought of you giving more for me.”

Now she was angry, eyes narrowing and voice hardening as she dug her hand in his hair and pulled it hard enough he hissed, “I’ll give whatever I want for you. It’s my choice. But it won’t happen. They’re locked away, awaiting trial, and they can’t get to us anymore. It’s almost over. In a few more weeks, you’ll be free forever. Don’t worry about tomorrow when you have enough to handle now.”

The fingers on her hip cut in, his thigh rubbing between her legs, and she bit back a shiver as his eyes turned dark, and he murmured, “No matter what I say, you have an answer… I’ve been free since the day you dropped into my life, Sweetheart.”

The nickname made her blood race. She ignored it the first time as the hopeless look on his face froze it before it could take root. The life had returned to his singular eyes, bright and electric as they latched on to hers, red smoke hazing the vibrant blue. Still, she tried not to let it show, ignoring the ever-smoldering embers low in her belly as she spoke.

“If that’s true, stop beating yourself up for things we settled months ago.”

His half smile widened to a wicked grin, gaze trained on her mouth, and she had the sudden urge to plead for mercy as he rolled them, settling on top of her. Mouth an inch from hers, her nose invaded by his alluring scent, and her hands already shaking as they clung to his neck.

“You are a bossy little thing. Cheeky. Always right. And I love you for it.” He chuckled, brushing his lips over hers as she held herself still.

“Good. Prove it,” she challenged. The fire was instantly back in his eyes; it lit the flames of her desire as he licked at the seam of her lips, and she opened to let him in, sighing into his mouth as his tongue played lazily with hers. The weight of his body, the scalding heat pouring from him, and his insistent mouth played her expertly as she went pliant under him. As always, she lost herself in his kiss. Sublime heat and delicious, maddening tension built so fast she couldn’t breathe, but this wasn’t about her. She couldn’t be selfish and had to ensure he knew she was safe and loved him. Working her hand between them, slipping inside his boxers, she wrapped it around his rapidly hardening cock. She smiled into the kiss as he groaned, hips jerking into her hand.

Sex had been the last thing on her mind when they came downstairs. Still, he clearly needed to feel something other than fright. She was willing to give him her body if it would banish those sadistic shadows still lurking in his lovely eyes. She stroked him the way he liked, loose then firm, twisting her wrist as she reached the head of him and swiping her thumb over the drop of moisture already waiting for her at the tip. He came back to life under her influence, mouth crushing hers, and he tasted like home as she enjoyed the heavy, silken feel of his cock in her palm. She was happy to get him off in her hand, ignoring the desire slowly burning in her core if it would help him find real rest and relief. But Jake was never happy unless she was a writhing mess as well.

His kiss turned voracious, her every nerve electrified as his hand slid along her thigh, hooking around her knee to yank it up to his waist. Fingers slipped and skidded over her hip, around her back, and down the curve of her ass, blunt nails cutting into her skin. He taunted her folds with phantom touches, delving between the cleft of her ass to dabble in the wetness gathering amongst her folds and spreading it around, smirking against her mouth as she shivered and sighed. Her hand stilled, position too awkward to stroke his cock as he gradually rolled them, her on top as he grabbed handfuls of her ass and silently urged her to spread her thighs wider. She slid her arms out of her robe and tossed it to the floor before it could get in the way and focused back on him.

She wanted to look after him, erase the nightmare with her touch, and care for him like he did for her. Still, it was almost impossible to withdraw from his sinful mouth and talented fingers, tracing the shape of her and making more mess between her legs as she murmured and purred. Sparks, bright and fiery, shot through her veins as he scraped his nails over her ass and jerked his hips, hard cock trapped between them and slipping through her slick folds in an unbearable tease. As he menaced her tongue with his, she managed to steal back some control, breaking the seal over her mouth and backing away when he chased her lips, smirking as he narrowed his eyes at her.

Dragging her nails down his heaving chest, she cocked her head and said, “You’re always looking after me. Let me take care of you now.”

Jake fought the desire to snatch hold of her and have her twisted under him, breathless and sobbing, utterly out of control as he fucked her. But he saw the need to comfort him in her vivid gaze, a softness she rarely showed, and he found himself nodding as she leaned back in to kiss him so tenderly his throat suddenly went dry. She started slow, kissing him until he was painfully hard and gripping her hips to keep from burying his cock inside her wet heat, slick against his lower abdomen as she mouthed at his jaw. Laying a path of sucking bites, she worked down his neck, sharp teeth nipping his pounding pulse before dragging her lips over his chest and down his torso, stomach tensing and relaxing as she followed the trail of dark hair to his rigid cock.

Settled between his legs, his heart kicked up as her little warm hand wrapped around his cock and stroked. Her long hair tickled his thighs as she lowered her head and licked a stripe up the solid length of him with the flat of her tongue. He groaned, rough and ragged, as she did it again, her lips parted as she met his eye and took the crown of his cock into her hot mouth, watching his reactions as he curled his hands into the blankets on the couch. Her hand and lips worked together, cock engulfed in wet heat as she hollowed her cheeks to suck him down, and her hand slid up to meet her mouth. Her other hand pinned his hip as she worked. She hummed as he hit the back of her throat, his heart stalling and restarting so fast he near blacked out as she relaxed to take more of him, and a feral sound tore free of his chest as she swallowed around him.

Her other hand moved from his hip, cupping and holding his stones close as he sobbed. She played with his restraint as she sucked his cock into her clever mouth, his instinct to own her body almost impossible to control as she reveled in holding all the power. Heat and electricity twined down his spine, fizzing and burning as he trembled under her care and ran his fingers through her loose hair, moaning as her throat constricted and relaxed around his length. She made little noises of pleasure as she worked, driving him insane as she delighted in undoing him, and he didn’t have to look to know she was touching herself; her quivering form told him she was. The thought stole a growl from his chest, long deep drags of her taut lips along his cock and swirling tongue making his body bow as she moaned around him.

“Manon, I need to feel you.” He gritted out as she took him so deep in her throat his eyes crossed, and his vision went dark for a second. She released him with a vulgar popping sound and arched a brow.

“You already are,” she taunted, fluttering her tongue against his glistening cock as her other hand moved languorously between her thighs.

Her eyes were heavy-lidded, green irises almost swallowed by black as she teased him and herself. She was the most beautiful when like this, he thought. Unburdened, pleasure the only goal and love the only ending, he let out a helpless cry as she almost took him into her mouth whole and sucked. Gently teasing teeth, hand, and mouth, moving in tandem to make him sputter and buck his hips into her face, earning a pleased muted moan from her. Frantic and panting, he could do nothing as she held his gaze, eyes watering and breath harsh as she worked him and herself over, her body undulating in time with her next slippery slide down on his cock. He couldn’t take it; he needed to be the one to get her off first.

Manon’s busy fingers circled her clit as she hollowed her cheeks and tightened her lips around his cock, swallowing him down as he squirmed under her attention. She was so wet, turned on to dangerous levels as her empty cunt complained and clenched, and intolerable ache in her core as her skin pebbled, breath sawing from her as she chased her orgasm. His lovely cock jumped in her mouth, tongue tapping and licking as she loosed her lips to breathe, a strangled moan trapped in her throat. She managed a few more swipes, release hovering so close her body tensed in preparation, and sucked him back in her mouth, hoping she could take him with her.

The thrumming tension in him told her he was very close to the edge, her smile full of smug pride as he squirmed and sobbed. It wasn’t to last. He yanked her off him in a movement so fast and effortless she squealed in utter bewilderment. She couldn’t track his movements, only knew he made them as she threw her head back and yelled out in pain and pleasure as she was brought down hard on his cock. The world span and blurred as her body absorbed the sudden invasion, voice silenced by the overpowering sensation of being filled completely, and a chill like a many-legged insect skittered down her spine. Trapped and impaled by his powerful hands framing her hips, her fingers twitching and toes curling. The shock of it making her eyes bug, unseeing as she gaped at Jake, and her toes curled. His feral grin and eyes of blackest ardour watched her struggle, wholly entranced by her, and the hunger in them bottomless. She fell forward as if hit in the head, short huffs of air leaving her as she whined and tried to breathe through the feeling of her cunt being abruptly stretched. 

“Your face when I fuck you, I’ve needed to see it since I woke.” He muttered, holding himself still to let her adjust despite the restraint she could see falling apart with every second she pulsed around his cock.

“This was supposed to be about you,” she managed, bending to nip at his lips with a snap of teeth, nails scratching at his solid chest, and crying out as his hands lifted her off him in a slow, tight glide of resisting walls, bringing her back down with a grunt so deliciously dark her mouth watered.

He chuckled, “It still is. I need to see you come first, Sweetheart.”

She gave a dark laugh, skin too small for her bones, as she said, “You are cruel, evil, and - oh, fuck!”

He never gave her a chance to finish the thought, both moaning as he lifted her again and let gravity do the rest as she slithered back down. It didn’t seem to matter where they were or why they did this; he always found a way to take the reins and make her shatter. It wasn’t fair how simple it was for him, but it was everything she needed and she could see now that he needed it more. Still, she found the means to take back control, rolling her hips to stir his cock inside her, cunt slackening and softening, wetness leaking from her to ease his way, her thwarted orgasm was terribly close once more. He observed her every reaction closely, eyes darker than a midnight sky and lips puffed and wet from her kisses as she reared backward in an elegant arch.

“I love your filthy mouth,” he growled as she planted her hands on his marble chest for more leverage, and clawed at his skin, “But your pretty cunt is better.”

She trembled and preened, thrilled by his bold words as she moved, relentless, and determined to chase the release she could almost taste. It was utterly overwhelming, breathtaking and she had no voice, no words in her mind except one. More. Every time they were together, it felt like this, and she kept waiting for it to fade with time, but it only seemed to burn hotter. The more they learned of each others bodies, the better they could send each other into madness and delirium. He felt too good, utterly perfect, buried inside her. Made to fit her, she fancifully thought as he helped her move over him. She fell forward again, unable to stay away from his smirking lips, and wanted to taste it as she rode him. She darted her tongue inside to play with as she rocked and rolled her hips, drowning in him as her veins filled with lightning. 

Heat and nerves sparkled over her skin, stomach tensing as she bottomed out, and he was knocked so deep it forced the breath from her as her cunt fluttered around his cock. Whining into his mouth, hand scrabbling down her body to find her clit and send herself flying as his cock jumped inside her. He was holding back for her. She saw it when she opened her eyes, and his were already open, flame devouring the violet-blue as he met her next slide down with a jab of his hips. There were so many things in his gaze, awe, relief, and sheer delight at watching her come apart at the seams for him. 

“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” he whispered reverently as she let him breathe and redoubled her efforts. Her release sparked its warning, and her essence soaked them both.

Her sob wasn’t entirely one of pleasure as she met his eye and saw the worship in his gaze, glued on her writhing form as her cunt swallowed his cock again and again. Fingers swirling her swollen clit, soaked in her own essence, as she and Jake moved together to send her over the edge. His tense jaw and quivering hands on her hips held her captive as she erratically bounced over him. Tension so sharp it threatened to slice her in half as her fingers worked that bundle of nerves, and his cock hit that sweet spot inside her that made her keen too loudly. His eyes held no shadows as she slammed hers shut against the onslaught of sensation he was pulling from her; only a glinting pride shone in that magnificent gaze, lighting her up inside as she gave herself over to the orgasm plucking at the delicate threads of her sanity.

It broke over her in a storm of static tingles and shocks, skittering under her skin and making her muscles jump, her release a smothered sigh as he pulled her down to his lips to taste her moan, a shuddering breath into his lungs as his hands at her hips held her down with strength and he came inside her. Everything intensified by how close he held her, as if he were afraid she’d slip away in a wisp of smoke and never return. His rippling growl under her flickering heart, his cock buried so completely she felt every twitch of his release as her inner walls grasped him in a taut fluttering clasp. She was whining in his hold, body utterly weightless but leaden at the same time, bliss and fatigue settling in as he slowly softened inside her drenched cunt. When she gathered the strength to break free of his mouth, she hid her face in his neck as she mumbled nonsense into his musky skin.

His hands smoothed down and up her back, prolonging her euphoria and the aftershocks of her release, the wicked feel of him inside her still convulsing cunt driving her to distraction. It was a long time before she calmed, and he found the strength to rearrange them. Her disgruntled moan as he left her body, making him smirk at her as he settled them in a spooning position. Sticky and exhausted, she barely reacted as he pulled a blanket over them and moved her hair away from her neck to kiss her there. Neither spoke again as sleep lured them in, and the sky outside the cabin window began to lighten from coal to gunmetal. Both smiled as they fell into a dreamless sleep.

~*~

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. If you leave a comment or reblog, thank you for that too! It makes my day ❤️

This was from chapter 3 of Paper Rings & Dirty Dreams.

If you fancy reading the stories that these two are from, you can find the links below. Bloodstain comes first and then Paper Rings. Both are indulgent, explicitly romantic and utterly packed with smut. I should’ve been stopped, to be honest, in the first one 🤭no pressure, I’m posting the smut from Paper Rings here anyway, it’s just a lot of fun and chaos reigns supreme in every chapter ❤️

Marked Me Like a Bloodstain - Ao3

Marked Me Like a Bloodstain - Wattpad

Paper Rings & Dirty Dreams - Ao3

Paper Rings & Dirty Dreams - Wattpad

Or if you just want smut, my Masterlist contains plenty more smutty one shots!

[uncouth-the-fifth]

pythia, a supernatural rewrite. phantom traveler, p.2

read it on ao3. masterlist.

words: 4747 notes: HI FOR THE LOVE OF GOD HELLO. uni is finally no longer kicking my ass, so here is a pythia update! since it's been an embarrassing amount of time since I last posted, i rly wanted to get something out for u guys - and as a result this chapter is shorter than what I'd like, but I hope still fun and silly ;) thank you so much for holding on with me and i can't wait to hear your thoughts! p.s - sam and dean are extra sweet this chapter bc i want all of u to love me again >:)

PITTSBURG, PENNSYLVANIA - Dec. 3rd, midday.

George Phelps was Max’s passenger, and, among other things, a loving and committed husband. He lived in a quaint little house in the suburbs, where his wife put his picture on the mantle and refused to say much to you. She didn’t have to. Just looking up at their house from the curb, decorated with soft glowing Christmas lights and silver crosses, you knew George Phelps wasn’t your guy. Maybe Max had seen him pry open the emergency exit on the flight, but you seriously doubted a dentist with acid reflux was behind the deaths of two hundred people.

Sitting in George’s living room and speaking with his wife, you swore that there was almost something there, but it was neutral enough that you doubted it was anything more than the wisps of George’s presence in the house. Fresh grief always felt the same.

You didn’t like how this hunt had been gnawing on you. The visions always itched you in their own way, but this time was distinctly, uncomfortably different, and you just couldn’t pin down why. It was your job to take the weird inclinations the Gift gave you and turn them into something usable. Somehow, you couldn’t even manage that.

You were the first one out of George Phelp’s stifling house and the first one into the Impala. In the safety of the backseat, you curled your nails into the upholstery until your fingers hurt and just felt. What were you missing? What were you recognizing, but failing to remember?

The thing you were hunting was big game. You’d had hundred-year-old vengeful spirits in your head, and they couldn’t even glimpse the kind of hatred you were dealing with here. It affected audio recordings, had loads of strength, and took a metal bat to your Gift every time you even thought about it. Somehow, it manifested with or connected to normal people. None of this rung any bells with you. Which was ridiculous, since it felt more and more familiar the longer you rolled your vision over in your mind—beyond close, like it was within arm’s reach.

Sam, in the Impala’s passenger seat, started giving you cautious looks in the rear-view. Dean had been halfway through griping about this case when Sam finally spoke his mind: “____… What exactly did you see in your vision?”

Both of the boys shared a furtive glance, then turned to look at you as one.

You must’ve shown the panic you were feeling on your face, because Dean’s clammed up with awkward sympathy. “...I know this one was tougher n’ usual, but I need you to buck up a bit, okay? This thing’s got nothing on you. C’mon.”

When you frowned, there was a bitter tang growing on the back of your tongue. You weren’t six. You didn’t need someone to coax your nightmares from you, and you definitely didn’t need anyone telling you to put your big girl pants on. Dean didn’t have to ask Sam to toughen up, even four years off his game, and you doubted he ever told himself to. Grr.

“Just start driving,” you gruffed, and failed to stop your lip from curling.

The arm Dean had hung over the front seat slouched into his lap. “...Sure thing. What’d you see?”

He turned the key and got you on the road again, joined, right on cue, by Sam’s kicked-puppy look swaying back to the windshield. You reminded yourself that the only reason you were pissed was because of how awful these last few days had been, and explained yourself.

“It was intense. Way more intense than most visions I’ve had. Not because of anything I saw—though the crash was… awful—but because of the feeling it gave me. Even when I got out of it… it just filled my head, I guess. This thing has a seriously powerful influence.”

Sam’s brows furrowed. “Did you see it at all?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, reminded again of how little you were helping. “Most of it was just flashes of the passengers. The plane going down. Before that, I saw a man’s hand grab the handle to the emergency door, the pilots talking about a flight out of Pittsburg, and then smoke. Loads of it.”

The car sunk into a heavy, thought-honed silence that only served to ramp up to your anxiety. You kept the case on your mind for all of two seconds, then were pulled to the ceaseless clicking of Dean’s turn signal and how scratchy your bandages were. Your suit sat too stiff on your body for you to relax into your seat, squeezing your empty belly in the worst way and chaffing on Baby’s leather. The cold air was too dry and your eyes and throat burned with the strangest pressure. Not a sick pressure, but a living one, pressing in. Black smoke. Your pain meds were wearing off too, so the sinew in your body felt taut and worn on an unfamiliar skeleton.

You stared dead-eyed at nothing for a minute longer, then Dean hauled the Impala up to the curb again and declared: “Fuck it. We’re getting lunch. What are you in the mood for, baby?”

“That’s a weird way to say the car needs gas, Dean,” you managed.

“No—not her-Baby, you baby!” Dean flushed, and honestly, he deserved some serious points for scrounging up any humor right now. Again, he tossed an elbow over the seat and threw a dazzling, morale-boosting grin at you. “What do you want to eat, darlin’? We can go to a sit-down place, have an actual meal. Or we can just grab something from the store. Anything.”

You hesitated to answer, and caught Sam’s grimace—you were way too poor right now to go for anything beyond instant noodles. “...We can wait til’ later, Dean. I don’t really have an appetite right now,” you lied.

Dean never begged, but forever reason he was willing to today. Maybe you seemed even worse off than you’d thought. “...C’mon, kid, you’re killing me here. Whatever you want. My treat.”

Again, you didn’t jump at the chance to answer. Truth be told, you could eat a grocery store whole right now, but the three of you did not have the budget. Dean was insane and devoted enough to steal lunch for you, too, and you didn’t feel like bailing him out of jail right now. Just the idea made your wallet tear up.

You opened your mouth to try and be realistic, only for Sam to interrupt you.

“Ice cream,” he read your mind. “She wants ice cream. The big grocery store tubs.”

Dean didn’t wait for any objections. He whipped the Impala out of park, jerked back into your lane, and peeled away toward the nearest store. “Ice cream! Hell yeah. I could fuck up some cherry garcia right now. Sam? Could you fuck up some ice cream right now?”

“Me? Oh, big time,” he lied, catching your eyes in the rearview again. You’d maybe seen Sam eat ice cream twice in your entire life. Again, he was probably hiding that he was lactose intolerant.

You had only a sliver of fight left within you. “Boys…”

“Yes?” They chimed. In their own ways, their voices dared you to resist, but the combined power of both Winchesters was too strong to withstand.

You bit down your grin and fell silent.

A few minutes later, Dean pulled into a thirty-year-old mini-mart that looked it’s age. Of course, he parked the Impala as far from the other cars as possible, so the mile-long walk through freezing, finger-numbing winds put everyone in the mood for ice cold ice cream. The first euphoric rush of interior heating made you sigh out loud. When Sam and Dean had swiped the snow off their blazers, you made an attempt at leading them toward another toastier, cheaper snack.

“You want ice cream,” was all Sam said, shrugging, and scooped up a basket for the three of you to use.

Either you were predictable or he could read minds, because even with the snowy weather you were more than ready to fuck up some ice cream. Just thinking about it made your bandages feel less scratchy. Lounging on the couch and plowing through a tub was a privilege the road really didn’t allow, so you were pretty sure you hadn’t even had any ice cream since October. Since you’d actually lived in your apartment.

“How did you know?” You asked him, out of honest curiosity.

Sam gave you a mysterious smile instead of an answer, swiped some snow off your jacket, then tilted his head after Dean in an unspoken come on. His brother had already caught the scent of the frozen treats section, so you both hurried to catch up with him. You stole glimpses of Sam as you wove your way to the back of the store. He was a little taller than the aisles, and his loafers cleared the age-stained linoleum in half the time your heels did. For whatever reason this is when your heart decides to remind you how absolutely spellbound you are by him. He takes a turn around an endcap of Little Debbies to find Dean, and you float right after him, orbited by cartoon hearts.

Maybe that’s intentional on Sam’s part, since you forget all about money and budgets right up until you’re staring down the row of smudged freezer doors. Dean’s already hefting his tub of cherry garcia overhead when you approach, and after a lot of fake stadium-cheering and whooping, he free-throws it with a perfect swish into Sam’s basket. Then, he slides aside and unveils the mini-mart’s slim selection of ice creams to you. Unfortunately, you’ve been trained from birth to think Dean’s funny, so you bite down on your cheek-aching grin and take a look.

“I dunno…” you say, even though you’ve already come this far. The math is starting to stack in your head. One tub is fine, but one for each of you builds up, and that cuts into real food money and motel money and gas money and—

“How about this,” Sam interrupts your mounting anxiety, voice smooth and anticipatory. “Dean gets his and then you and I get one to share. Sound good?”

You thank him with a small smile, imagining the face he’d make if you yanked him down by the lapels and kissed him for knowing you so well. Sam was a great kisser.

“That’d be perfect.”

Instead of going for your favorite, you swipe the dairy-free cookies and cream.

Dean shoos Sam further down the aisle, and his brother props up the basket like a hoop and starts serpentining between the frozen pizzas, the two of them beaming like rowdy middle school boys. You turn your tub over in your hand and line up your shot. Dean’s taunting and pinching is ultimately fruitless—the victory grin is already comfortable on your face when your ice cream swishes flawlessly into Sam’s basket. Sam whoops.

“Not bad, Slayer,” Dean approves. He gives your shoulder a playful budge, and you budge him right back on the way to the registers.

With your bad mood successfully thawed, you’re easy to distract while Dean sneaks away to (hopefully) pay for your plunder. One minute you’re in line with them, and in the next Sam is coaxing you away to poke around the value movie bin, hypnotizing you with a few well-placed, dimply grins. You forget altogether that ice cream costs money. You’re only just remembering what money is when Dean reappears, shoving a receipt in his pocket and jabbing a thumb toward the bakery.

“Cashier lady said they got spoons over there,” Dean explained.

You paused. “Don’t we have, like, a gazillion in the car?”

“You mean the car with the heater that takes ten years to start?” Dean sassed back, which instantly dissolved into one of his cheesy, goading grins. He started to rifle through the grocery bag for his flavor, half-walking and half-wrestling with it. “We’ll eat in here. Don’t worry about it.”

Somehow, you didn’t worry about it. Dean cracked jokes about adult freedoms and whole sleeves of raw cookie dough, Sam rubbed his belly like just the thought made him nauseous, and you giggled at every little thing they did. You were still laughing when Sam parked you by one of the bakery’s vents, the two of you crowded close to get as much warm bread fog as possible. Dean went over and bartered for three plastic spoons. The whole time he stole glances at you loudly giggling with his brother, and patted himself on the back for his job well done.

Dean wiggled closer to you both to be under the warmth of the vent. Now equipped with a way to get this ice cream into your ice-cream-ready belly, you borrowed Sam’s pocket knife to shred the plastic seperating you from your treasure. There wasn’t really a contactless way to hold the tub between you both. While Dean ravaged his cherry garcia, you and Sam tried, and failed, to preserve your personal space, only to lazily gravitate closer to each other with the first glorious spoonfuls of cookie-dough. The first bite balmed your sore throat and your sensitive burns. It was sweeter than you were expecting for dairy-free ice cream, but the surprise was welcome.

Dean stabbed his spoon into his cherry garcia. Then, he gave you another welcome surprise. He dropped his hand in your hair, smoothing it back, and asked around a mouthful of cherry flavoring, “Good?”

You couldn’t help but beam. “Yeah. I’m good.”

_

NTSB EVIDENCE WAREHOUSE, PENNSYLVANIA - Dec. 3rd, midday.

The next step in your investigation, naturally, was to break into a government warehouse, slip past security undetected, and hopefully learn something useful from the wreckage without being caught. No amount of ice cream could make that easy, but you couldn’t let your anxiety get in the way. The heart attacks you had showing your fake badge to the security guards were nausea-inducing, but the overpowering psychic weight of a disaster this fatal was going to be a thousand times worse. You steeled yourself.

Before you’d been a hunter, you’d come from a long line of spiritualists and occultists who made death their livelihood. They communicated with the spirit world, they studied life after death, they made the passing of old souls easier. Even before your Gift opened up you’d had similar connections to death. Beth, eyes gleaming with pride, used to tell stories about you at four, talking to the darkness of the attic’s crawlspace like there was someone there. Dean got head to toe heebie-jeebies when you brought that up, but a connection to the other side at such a young age was a Proctor mark of pride. The first time you’d ever seen an apparition had been celebrated as a milestone of womanhood. Death was your older sister, so you shouldn’t have been afraid of her.

You’d sensed her just a few miles out from the warehouse. It was gentle at first, seeping into your ears like a shift in air pressure, then gradually filling up your other senses. But over two hundred real living people—people who loved and were loved like you loved Sam and Dean—had died in that crash, so in no time you were squeezing your eyes shut and plugging your nose in the backseat. You felt Death every day in small doses. In Sam, restlessly watching the ceiling of your rooms at night, in your motorcycle, in the graves you dug up and the homes you questioned civilians in. Your sister sat beside you in the back of the Impala every day.

But two hundred whole people. You dug the nails of your right fist into your palm until it burned, thinking, desperately, about ice cream.

The closer you came to the scene, the more overwhelming the sense of death became. You were almost swaying on your feet flashing your badge at the security desk, who, of course, have to remind everyone of how useless you are.

“FBI? Don’t you guys usually work in pairs?”

Sam gave a tight smile. “She’s our aircraft specialist, thank you.”

A security clerk from the main office drove you out to the right hangar on a golf cart. Dean laid his action movie smolder a bit thick on the guy, but he at least could’ve passed as a trainee. By comparison, Sam at twenty-two and you at twenty-four were round-faced babies, too young to play agents on TV, nevermind in real life. The two of you squished together on the back bench of the cart and sat ramrod straight the whole ride, refusing to turn around. The less people who could remember your faces, the better.

When the warehouse was unlocked and the three of you were inside, your sister struck.

There was so much death. Great mouthfuls, lungfuls, chestfuls of it in the air, diffusing through your nose every time you breathed. You gagged on the psychic taste of it until your eyes watered.

A smarter person would’ve stayed in the safe bubble between Sam and Dean, but you’re done being babied. You break ranks the first chance you get. While the boys take slow steps around the perimeter of the wreckage, you gravitate toward the split-open center of the fuselage. All that remains of the plane’s body are a few rows of seating, gutted curves of scrap, and long tangles of roasted wires. There was so little left that you had room to walk through the middle, down the same path the passengers had taken to board.

When the ringing in your ears was too loud to hear over and you felt like a massive fist had closed around your chest, you stopped. Reached out. Felt, beyond the veil, the mark of the thing that had done this. It hung over this warehouse like a funeral shroud, but you felt it first through its spider web, which kept the last impressions of over two-hundred different people tethered to this place by invisible strands. None of the people—the spirits from the crash had manifested yet, but every living thing left an impression of itself behind. A footprint.

You pulled at different strands of the spider’s web for a while, sorting through the last memories of those on the plane for something useful. It was just as terrible as you’d expect. Mothers held their children, husbands clutched their wives, everyone wailed and screamed. This many people should’ve made up a whole nebula of different feelings, but instead you sensed just one: absolute, incalculable terror. With every passing moment the fear pressed in closer, but you ignored it. You pushed yourself deeper. Max Jaffey gasped into his oxygen mask. The seat in front of him was empty, and he was looking at someone—you reached and reached—across the aisle, a man sobbed and pressed his girlfriend’s trembling hand into his heart—you were going to die you were all going to die—

You’re ripped out of the swarm of memories.

For the millionth fucking time, you come out of the vision on your ass with the boys hovering over you. You’re slow to remember where you are and what’s going on, but the shame is there waiting for you, like always.

“—okay, just breathe, you’re okay—” Sam is telling you, soft and unbelievably patient, considering the number of times he’s had to do this.

His heart is full-on pounding like it’s gonna punch right out of his chest, and you wonder why you know that until you glance down. He’s got your wrist fished in his hand, pressing your palm to flat to the crisp chest of his suit, and it’s just plain embarrassing at this point how much it pulls you back to earth. Your dignity wants you to rip yourself away from him, but, luckily, Dean does it for you. He pushes Sam back and kicks a box of wires neatly between you, just in time for his premonition to come true: your twisting stomach makes its move, and you promptly throw up into the box like a sick toddler in a ball pit. Dean could always tell.

“Touchdown,” he winces.

This is it. You’ve reached the final level of humiliation you can stand. No matter how hard you try, every pathetic dive you’ve made to be useful to the Winchesters has ended with your face in the mud. You can’t even wipe your face right. Sam ends up doing it for you with his sleeve, and sighs, out loud, just to add insult to injury: “Poor baby.”

PITTSBURG, PENNSYLVANIA - Dec. 3rd, evening.

Two hours later, you’re back in the motel, sitting criss-cross at the end of Dean’s bed and contemplating what color you’re going to dye your hair. You’ve already landed on what your new legal name will be—Elizabeth Ripley. Elizabeth as in Pride and Prejudice and Ripley as in Alien. Sam would appreciate a Jane Austen reference and Dean would appreciate anything Alien related, so everyone would be happy.

You’re not sure where this plan to change your name and face came from. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that, after you gracefully threw up everywhere and failed to learn anything new about the case, the real FBI showed up. Like. Real, gun-slinging, tie-wearing FBI agents. And they may or may not have chased you out of the warehouse. (Which you would’ve seen coming, by the way, if you hadn’t royally exhausted your powers). Just in case all that was enough—while you were off being useless, Sam and Dean got a potential sample from your mystery monster. An actual workable lead.

Fucking great.

The two of them are deciding what to do with you. If you were to look beyond the lens of your self-hatred for a moment, it’s more likely that the boys are worried about you and trying to figure this out. But you feel embarrassed and gross and unhelpful, so you strain to pick up every word you can and glare a new hole into the wall. They’re going to tell you to stay behind. Well that, at least, is something you can beat them to.

Ever since you were little, the three of you had a very special rhythm together. Sam was the mind and Dean was the heart and you were the subconscious. Each of you was important, and though you could work on your own, you were so, so much better as a system. With you sending out fucked-up signals, the two of them would be down a crucial piece.

Whatever. They’d probably function just fine without you on this one.

Of course, Dean sics his little peacekeeper on you. The door clicks open. You smear the last of your frustrated tears on your sleeve and talk before Sam can say anything: “Hey, is it okay if you guys take that sample to Jerry without me? It’d probably be good for us to get a leg up on research, and you guys don’t exactly need me there.”

Sam comes toward you, his voice extra soft and placating. Since, y’know, you’re a shitty timebomb that needs to be handled with kid gloves. “...Alright. That’s a good idea. That’d help out a lot.”

He says that specifically because he knows you feel unhelpful. He gives you those dewy, understanding Sam eyes and puts his big Sam hand on your shoulder, and all it does is piss you off. You hate how easily he can read you, and how much you want to listen to him. None of this should be such a big fucking deal. You’re twenty-four—you should have a handle on your Gift by now. Sam’s been back at this for, what? Two months? Nobody’s treating him like he can’t handle the pressure. He’s not being haunted by visions twenty-four-fucking-seven or dealing with stupid burns or—or being creeped on by random hunters! Or throwing up at crime scenes!

Your eyes start to burn. You glare harder at the wall, and force yourself not to take this out on him.

Sam’s hand goes to move off your shoulder, but something changes his mind and he keeps it there for another lingering moment. “Look at me a second.”

You force yourself to look at his face. As mad as you are, the boy-crazy teenage girl in your head gets one look at him and squeals into her pillow.

“Go easy on yourself,” he says, softer than before. “Really. Nobody’s built for this kind of thing.”

You want to scream. Me! I am! I’m built for this! But you’re not a teenager anymore, so you compose yourself, sigh, and tell him, “...I’ll try.”

Instead of getting up, Sam stares at you for a long beat. There’s something in his eyes you can’t describe, and his hand is still on your shoulder, tethering the two of you to each other. Your mental teenage girl is about to succumb to romantic psychosis when Sam’s greenish eyes find something else to look at, and he passes you something from his pocket.

He mutters something like feel better and gets up, leaving you with a shard of metal about as long as one of your fingers. He doesn’t explain what it is to you. He doesn’t tell you what to do with it. Because you’re a hunter, dammit, and Sam knows you can handle yourself. His warm, calloused palm slips off your shoulder and you get the impression that he was never using any kid gloves with you to begin with.

Sam leaves. You stare at the shard as the Impala slinks out of the parking lot. Just by touch, you know it’s a piece of flight 2485’s fuselage.

…You do as Sam asked, and go easy on yourself. After a shower, a little teeth-brushing, and a lot of mints, you’re feeling way less gross and a lot more like a hunter. The whole time you pour through research on your laptop, you rub the shard of flight 2485 between your fingers and sort through what this thing could be. Inhuman strength. Uses a vessel. Black eyes. Black smoke.

Nobody’s built for this kind of thing, Sam had said, and he’d been wrong. You’d been honing this Gift before you’d even known you’d had it. Most of your life had been spent learning every kind of divination under the sun, so there was no way this thing could hide from you.

You started easy, reading the shard through psychometry. The nauseous feeling rose up inside you again, and again, you heeded Sam’s warning and chose to push away from it. You tried numerology, which felt like a push in the right direction; 2458 wasn’t relevant, and though 7 survivors could mean something interesting (luck, the union of the physical and the spiritual, yadda yadda), your gut told you it was something else. The plane crashed 40 minutes in. Biblical numerology, maybe? Promising. But also potentially terrifying.

When your bone casting read felt flat and uninspired, you defaulted to the simplest method you could think of. Tarot.

The first time you’d seen an apparition, your mom had scooped you up into a massive hug and paraded you around the house, declaring to the spirits of the underworld that a new heavyweight champ had entered the ring. (This became a lot funnier the older you got). You were bought ice cream and root beer and told in a thousand ways, subtle and unsubtle, that this was a good thing. One of the ways Beth convinced you was with her childhood tarot deck, which she’d gifted you that day.

You turned the cards over in your hands, imbuing the worn-smooth texture of the paper with the feelings from your vision. The first card you pulled was done on nothing but pure instinct. And the second. By the third, you shuffled the deck as thoroughly as possible, but the answer was still the same every single time. You’d never pulled the same exact card three times. All at once, things pulled together—the overwhelming sense of evil, the human host, the numerology, the way it sucked up death like a goddamn sponge—no survivors, it’d said on the EVP. Holy shit.

You were dialing Dean’s number the second you set the card down. He answered on the second ring, and spoke at the exact same time as you—

“It’s a demon."

Underneath the illustration were two blemished words. The Devil.

-

tags: @samssluttybangs @cookiemumster1 @lacilou @cevans-winchester @leigh70 @seraphimluxe @emily-roberts @emme-looouou @aloneatpeace @williamstop @ornella0910 @chaoticshepardplaid @dakota-dream @lcvecstiel @goghkiss @spnexploration @stoneyggirl2 @urm0mmmbbg @mulattomoonn

NEXT PART: phantom traveler, p.3.

[adventurepunks]

Once in a Blue Moon

@lostxndbroken​

Tic...tic....tic...tic...whether it was the rhytmic tics of his watch or the little raindrops tapping against the window as New York’s streets were swept in wind and rain, other than that faint sound fading away nothing else could be heard in the dimly lit by candles study. It needed to be quiet, as silent as the grave to hold a seance. Nick’s amulet swung, the circle of candles floated and whispers caressed his ears with answers.

In Ica Peru laid what he sought and in his visions Oliver walking up the long steps. Many Queens laid in the grave and no doubt a bunch of them were not resting. This ought to be the answer as to why Oliver kept showing up, his fault truly for necromancers were beacons and lightning rods to those stuck on the Other side. He got close to a man touched by death far too many times, Nick could get a headache just thinking of how many people Oliver lost abruptly. Nick had been keeping an eye on him lately,danger was of course in every corner as the man was not only a target for his wealth but a vigilante but it could not hurt to keep an eye on him never the less...right? But this interference from the Beyond was getting stupid. Was he just a focal point or was he now this distracted that his mind was slipping to thinking of Oliver and manifesting...like this. By Nick clawing OLIVER JONAS QUEEN on his floorboard.

No, he was not a sentimental person and he would not dwell on it, the Beyond stated their aid came at the price that said Oliver Jonas Queen ought to come along. He wouldn’t ponder on it,not right now, it wasn’t as if Oliver couldn’t handle danger...or a trap. He looked at his watch, it was in the dead of night maybe he ought to wait till the morning? Maybe not, so off to the kitchen for the landline phone he rushed.

Ring ring. Ring ring.

For crying out loud since when did party boys sleep at 2.27 am?

“Oliver-” Nick addressed the moment the voicemail kicked in. “I am departing for Peru on Tuesday, if you want to escape the drudgery of galas and CEO responsibilities and your sense of adventure needs tickling I could use an extra pair of strong hands. My apprentice is otherwise engaged-” he spoke with Zatanna shaking her head from across the kitchen counter. 

“Say something nice you’re sounding really...formal” Zatanna whispered.

“It might not be the ideal romantic get away but I have to admit I yearn to see you again”

Zatanna cringed. Yearned? “Alright Poe..take it down a notch” she whispered.

“It would be good to see you.”

Click. He hanged up and would not wait an answer whether it would be a trip for one or a trip for two.

[bluemoonfantasiesiii]

Surprise voice lines for Raiden AU Scara!

Hello

“I am Shiden, the Tenno of Inazuma. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to properly thank your for aiding Inazuma, but at the very least, allow me to return the favor by aiding you on your journey. It’s not like I have any major political responsibilities. That’s all my mother’s job.”

Chat: View

“The world outside the confines of Inazuma City… I want to see it all.”

Chat: Interest

“Hmm… Could that possibly be something of interest over there? Let’s go see!”

When it Rains:

“I’ve rarely gotten to experience rain without thunder accompanying it. It’s so peaceful.”

When Thunder Strikes:

“Th-that wasn’t me, I swear!”

When it Snows:

“There’s always something so calming about seeing everything covered in pure white. But also…something very melancholy…”

When the Sun Is Out:

“Even the most devastating storms must eventually rest.”

When It’s Windy

“Gah! Please don’t let me get blown away!”

Good Morning:

“Good morning~! Did you sleep well? Waking up in a sour mood can ruin your whole day.”

Good Afternoon:

“I was just about to head out for some tea. Care to join me? Even the most bitter of brews always taste better when you have someone to share it with.”

Good Evening:

“*sigh* I don’t think I’ll ever grow tired of watching the sun set. It feels like two worlds are connected at this time of day.”

Good Night:

“You should get some sleep. You’ve still got a long journey ahead of you. Who knows what you’ll face next? A sharp mind will keep you prepared for anything.”

About Shiden: Blacksmiths

“I’ve always been fascinated by the art of blacksmithing. I’ve gotten a few chances to visit the workshop in Inazuma City in my time, and there’s just something about it that makes it feel like home. The warmth of the furnace, the rhythmic clank of hammer on blade, the friendly chatter between colleagues. Blacksmiths just have this air about them that makes even a complete novice like me feel welcome.”

About Shiden: Family

“My mother has made many poor decisions ever since my creation; probably even before that. And my sister had no choice but to follow her whims. But family is supposed to call each other out when we do something wrong, right? I don’t regret confronting them the way I did. I only regret that it took me so long to do it…”

About Us: Mutuality

“I believe relationships should be based on mutual understanding and equal footing. That’s why I’ll do my best to protect you as much as you may need to protect me.”

About Us: Transience

“Eternity is an endless cycle of things beginning and ending. Even your time here in Teyvat will eventually come to its conclusion. That’s why I’ll treasure every second I get to spend with you and learn as much as I can before you inevitably move onto the next world.”

About the Vision:

“I’m aware that Electro Visions stopped manifesting during the Vision Hunt, but I couldn’t tell you why. Could it be that the Heavenly Principles intervened? Or is the Fatui really so powerful that they were able to quash the ambitions of the people that much…?”

Something to Share:

“It truly is a shame what happened to the Raiden Gokaden. I’m glad that at least some of their craft still survives to this day. Maybe I’ll head to Tatarasuna at some point and see if anything there can be salvaged. Would you mind helping me with the fundraising when the time comes? Hm? No! I don’t want them to just give me money just because I’m the Tenno!”

Interesting Things:

“Did you know there are several legends about the origins of the Thunder Sakura? Some people even think they’re fragments of the Electro Archon. Hehe~ It’s always so funny thinking of Mother turning into a tree. They’re not too far off, though. The Shogun Puppet and I were crafted from wood.”

About Ei: Relation

“While we may not be related by blood since we have none to share, I do consider Beelzebul my mother. I know it probably sounds like a strange sentiment considering the way she’s treated me all these years, but…mothers make mistakes, too. Her mistakes just happen to have heavier consequences since she’s a god.”

About Ei: Puppet

“I don’t resent Mother for bringing me into being. Though my existence hasn’t always been a happy one, I am glad I exist. Deep in my chest where my heart would be, I knew her delusions and her grieving would eventually come to an end.”

About the Raiden Shogun:

“I’m not sure why I developed emotions while she didn’t. You would think it would be the other way around, right? The prototype is more robotic and the final draft is more refined and human. Maybe Mother wanted her own vessel to be a blank slate because she herself lost her own identity acting as her sister’s kagemusha.”

About Yae Miko:

“For a long time, Lady Miko was the only one I felt I could confide in about my opposition to Mother’s Eternity. She agreed with me that Mother was taking the completely wrong approach to the loss of her sister. She held nothing back when expressing her concerns about my existence. Hm? Why are you looking at me like I’m crazy? Yes, even someone like Lady Miko is capable of being honest every once in a while.”

About Kamisato Ayato:

“That’s the current head of the Kamisato Clan and the Yashiro Commission, right? It must have been awful, having to take on so much responsibility at such a young age with no warning. I just hope he was given an opportunity to grieve properly. I would hate for him to shut himself out like my mother did.”

About Kujou Sara:

“She’s fiercely loyal to the Shogun, for better or for worse. I don’t mean to speak ill of such a distinguished General, but that kind of blind devotion can be scary in the wrong circumstances.”

About Sangonomiya Kokomi:

“My mother owes the people of Watatsumi great reparations for what she did to their god. Doubly so knowing that they were hit the hardest by the Sakoku Decree. I commend their Divine Priestess for her bravery in standing up to the god that slayed her own. I hope she never loses that spark. We need more leaders like her, who will fight for what’s right even with the odds stacked against them.”

About Kaedehara Kazuha:

“Ah, right, the last practitioner of the Isshin Art of blade smithing. It saddens me to hear that he has no plans to continue his family business, but far be it from me to stop him from living the life he wants. I can only hope that he’ll teach someone his craft before he dies.”

About Arataki Itto:

“I haven’t had many opportunities to talk to him yet, but he seems like a good guy. Y-yes, I know he’s the leader of a gang, but that’s more of an arbitrary definition of ‘good’ and ‘bad.’ Despite his…occupation, he has a strong moral code and a terrific sense of humor. That’s the kind of thing that matters to me.”

More About Shiden I:

“Despite my seemingly luxurious existence, my life has actually been fairly uneventful. I can’t promise I’ll have anything interesting to share, but I’ll be happy to answer your questions!”

More About Shiden II:

“Although my official title is Emperor, I don’t actually hold a lot of political power in Inazuma. However, I still garner quite a bit of respect from my people. If anyone tries to give you any trouble within our borders, call for me, and I’ll set them straight.”

More About Shiden III:

“A lot of people find Chinju Forest eerie, but I personally think the rippling stream reflecting the glow of the flowers is rather soothing. It makes for a perfect meditation spot. The bake-danuki that still live there are pretty cute, too, even if they can’t communicate very well.”

More About Shiden IV:

“Can you keep a secret for me? One time, when I snuck out to see the blacksmiths, I forged my own blade. It’s not very good, but I was so happy to have something to truly call mine, something that I made with my own hands. For a brief moment, as I held that sloppily put together sword in my hands, I felt like I had my own identity. I still have it stashed somewhere. I could show you sometime if you’d like. Haha, of course I’m embarrassed at the quality, but we’re friends now, right? You can make fun of it all you want. I don’t mind, really.”

More About Shiden V:

“I don’t know what exactly the Tsaritsa is planning the do with the other Gnoses, but I was relieved to finally be rid of that thing. Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t an easy decision to make, but now I understand how even a god like Morax could be persuaded to bargain his away. A Gnosis is nothing more than a tether. Now that it’s out of my hands, I finally feel I have the freedom to stop trying to be like my late aunt. It was never truly mine to begin with.”

Shiden’s Hobbies:

“I often used to occupy my time helping out the attendants in Tenshukaku. My favorite activity was assisting the chefs, and I’d like to think that over 500 years, I’ve gotten pretty good at cooking.”

Shiden’s Troubles:

“I’m sure you can imagine how spending most of my life locked up in Tenshukaku has left my social skills a bit lacking. I hope you don’t mind teaching me as we go. My status means nothing to you, so you’re the only one I can trust to correct me if I accidentally say or do something rude.”

Favorite Food:

“This may come as a surprise, but I actually prefer bitter things. Too much sugar or spice can overwhelm the dish and conceal its true intentions. That’s why you’ll never see me putting anything in my tea. Some things should just be left as they are.”

Least Favorite Food:

“I don’t have much of a sweet tooth. Especially when the sweets are also sticky like honey or caramel. It makes me feel like my teeth are fusing together. It’s a rather unpleasant sensation…”

Receiving a Gift I:

“This is perfect! Not too much, and not too little. Well done!”

Receiving a Gift II:

“Would you mind sharing this recipe with me? I don’t want to have to bother you every time I’m craving it.”

Receiving a Gift III:

“Urgh…! Well, it’s better than Mother’s cooking at least…?”

Birthday:

“Happy birthday! I’m not super familiar with the typical conventions of birthday celebrations, but I do know you’re supposed to give the person a gift, so here! Now that I’m not trapped in Tenshukaku anymore, I was able to learn blacksmithing more seriously, and I made these twin daggers with you in mind. You can give your sibling the other one when you’re reunited. I hope that’s not too forward of me.”

Feelings About Ascension: Intro

“I happily embrace this change.”

Feelings About Ascension: Building Up

“The future is looking brighter with each day.”

Feelings About Ascension: Climax

“The beauty of time is that we never know what’s coming next. So just take it moment for moment.”

Feelings About Ascension: Conclusion

“At last, I have a power that I can call my own. I never could’ve gotten here without you. I hope we can continue to grow together in the future.”

Elemental Skill:

“Eyes up!”

“A storm is brewing!”

“Strike twice!”

Elemental Burst:

“You can’t run from the future!”

“The future is now!”

“For Inazuma’s future!”

Sprint Start:

“Quickly now.”

Opening Treasure Chest:

“What are these used for?”

“Is this a good find?”

“It’s all yours.”

Low HP:

“You can’t get rid of me that easy!”

“The future looks bleak…”

“You’ll pay for this!”

Ally at Low HP:

“Let me handle this!”

“I’ll make them regret harming you!”

Fallen:

“Every storm…eventually…ends…”

“My future ends here…”

“Time will go on…without me…”

Light Hit Taken:

“Hardly a scratch!”

“Was that it?”

Heavy Hit Taken:

“Lucky shot!”

“Not bad…”

Joining Party:

“Finally, a chance to see the outside world!”

“I wonder what the future has in store for us.”

“You need my help? I’d be honored!”

[vsnotresponding]

CHAPTER 20 - UNTAMABLE - IRA

masterpost

“Tell me another story, Ira.”

Níniam. His bright smile, almost blinding; his dark reddish curls under the glaring sun, his vibrant orange eyes, brighter than mine. The way we played when he was a child, chasing each other, sneaking insects into Hamza’s makeshift bed; his tantrums, strong like a storm, fueled by my own stubbornness and Hamza’s iron determination; his fascination with shiny objects, the trash collection he jealously keeps, scraps of metal and shells, nails, and his creation, each one with a name in honor of another creator.

That’s how I remember him after what I told the mirzaan: full of life, full of energy, the instants when he was healthiest, more a mirage of the future than reality. When I close my eyes I see him, he turns to smile at me, to run into my arms as I hug him, the texture of his hair caressing my cheek. An illusion, a promise of what he’ll have if we succeed, if we fix the Iria and heal the sickness. That’s what I think about when I wake up, in what I focus after the attack, instead of the Ecco’s increasing form, the worry in the others’ eyes, and the sadness in Karma’s.

I don’t even think about the imitator and what I allowed myself to do, even if the Ecco tries to make me remember with his whispers of Masrae; I don’t think about Áine’s apology, it's not like I know how to feel about it either way; I don’t ask about the rookies’ whispers about new conflict rising in the city, I ignore my worry at Hamza being involved in them.

I just don’t, because I need to focus, because I’ll finally face the Iria, on my terms, because the next step is the answer, the solution, and I don’t want to allow, I can’t allow, to get distracted with something that’s not doing everything I can to save Níniam.

I let visions and memories fuel me, reminding me why I’m here, why I accepted to do this. He and Hamza are everything I have, my mentor murdered yeas ago, Ila a presence I don’t recognize anymore, as much as Áine says otherwise.

A day passes, then another. They extend my recovery, even if I tell them that my neck feels fine, that I am fine, because I don’t stop to think how I’m feeling. I know that if I do, if I go beyond falling apart like I did in front of Karma, I’ll end up being nothing, getting lost in the feeling of the air escaping the imitator’s lungs.

Still, they keep questioning me, watching me closely. I try to act as normal as I can, Níniam’s voice in my head in the background of the conversations I force myself to keep, the tests we keep doing with the imitations, with my creation, with the mirzaan’s.

I fight against sleep when it comes, laying in a cot on the other side of Emhi’s room, her chest rising and falling as the air gets in and out of her lungs where she sleeps face down on the bed. I don’t want any visions or nightmares to destabilize me, to interrupt the memories of my athir, looping in my mind, unstoppable. I keep them away, like the Ecco, each time I see him bigger and bigger, whispering stories into the darkness of the night. I don’t fear him, not anymore, not after his words, not after understanding.

I don’t want to understand.

He’s a product of my mind, a manifestation of my tired and sick body, of the chaos in my head I won’t allow to reign free.

Or that’s what I tell myself.

The first time Níniam opened his eyes, I couldn’t tear myself away. Big, curious, bright orange, they blinked before he reached out his tinny hand towards my hair to yank at it.

The memory comes back to me when we step into the Iria’s chamber, the cracks in the stone wider than I remembered. I feel the connection instantly, the bridge that reaches to me from the rock and the imitations around us, in between them and me.

Another step, the sound echoing in the empty room. His wails, the pain that woke us one night. It went through us, the three of us, huddled together in a bed in a windowless room, telling us that Níniam’s mentor was dead. The fever that followed, the coughing that kept my athir and I in bed while Hamza tried to figure out how to return the old woman’s body to the earth.

The imitations blink with our next step, Áine, Garvan and Karma stopping behind me, the mirza and the guards just under the arch in the entryway. The echo of their shoes stops, but my silent bare feet foot don’t.

The shifting in my guts when the earth was getting ready to bring Níniam to the word, a stir that seems permanent since I created for the Chamber. I can’t tell if it’s real or just a memory. A roof, hard and warm stone, the breeze in my face, messing up my hair and Níniam's, sitting beside me, not older than three years old. I lay back, he asks me for a story, and I tell him about Ila and Zaeaf, and their eternal fight.

“Remember not to force yourself, Ira,” Garvan warns me, something he hasn’t stopped repeating as I recovered, insisting on repeating the tests again and again, my connections turning violent.

“I know.”

My voice sounds foreign to me, but it doesn't matter. I can almost touch the Iria now, his presence familiar. Terrifying, fascinating, nothing like his fragments scattered across the island. I can finally look at him properly, feeling his pulse, his beating, the rhythm of the energy he receives and exudes.

Weak, sick.

Wrong.

A rough cough, chocked, a cold that surrounds us, our clothes wet from the freezing rain discarded on the floor. My arms around a smaller body than mine, others around us, covered by various ripped and dirty clothes, the golden cape on my shoulders. Another cough, this one mine, the pain in my chest and the struggle to breathe, the feeling of a fever coming, the tremors of our bodies when the wind gets in between the cracks in the abandoned building we call home.

More pain, in my hand. Light, weak, blinking; then heat. Ila’s name escapes my lips, bringing me peace, rocking Níniam until he falls asleep, still shaking.

“Don’t force yourself, Dunstan.” I ignore Hamza’s raspy voice. He can’t do anything to stop me, he’s too weak, too, the wound a guard left on his side still open and bleeding. I secure my hug around Níniam, chin on his head. And keep praying.

Warm to the touch, the Iria reminds my palm of an active creation in my hand. I feel her hardness, her irregularity, the orange glow dimmed and weak. Confused voices, alarmed, a light at my back—I ignore them like I did Hamza years ago.

I close my eyes to see Níniam’s smile one last time.

And connect.

I expected the pain. It goes deep, dense, it makes the cracks break my bones, splitting my flesh. It goes through me, shaking my insides, and I clench my teeth to stop a cry. Like what I remember of the Púlsar those first days, the nightmares; it bathes me in misery, in desperation, in the sea that engulfs me until my back is against the sand at the bottom, the dust that rises covering my eyes and nose, blinding me, chocking me.

But there’s something more. A movement in the water, the rhythm, the beating, they create waves on the surface above me. I follow their origin, to the Core, flashes of the vision of the blood slipping through it assaulting me, then the substances and the Ecco. Their voices, his voice. It’s one and the same.

The pain is more intense here, heightened. Sudden, it makes me scream, my voice mute like I’m submerged. I surpass it however I can, clawing my way out of my nightmares and the water. Find it, I need to find it, the origin of this pain. But the Core’s intact, there are no cracks on his surface, no stains of darkness. Just the column, blood dripping down it, the smell of salt and metal, and the rhythm shaking the cave.

Still, I know this is the origin, in spite of what it shows. I feel it in my chest, the echo of the pain, the voices and their stories, telling me of how they found Masrae’s body on the shore: eyes open and blind, mouth agape in search of water, and blood everywhere.

His body substituted by the imitator when I imagine him, the red vibrant against his clear skin.

Somewhere far away, blood slips past my lips.

The taste of blood brings me back to the corridor, to his hands on my neck and our gasps for air. It brings me back to what I screamed at the mirzaan, that I’d accepted I was going to die; to when I awoke flooded by pain, the ocean’s pressure over me, the connection with the Iria violent; the pain in my ear when I lost my creation and my link with home. It brings me back to the argument I had with Hamza before I was captured, to Níniam's tear filled eyes when he saw me leaving; the feeling of blood in my hands covering a sword wound, then on the floor with my tears falling over them and the pain that broke me then when my mentor died; the first time I created something when the blood followed that same path from nose to lips.

I can’t find the source, and I can’t find my family.

The voices turn to shouting, mixing. There’s a hand on my shoulder and I hear Karma asking me to stop, but I don’t want to. I can't stop. I focus on the connection, on the path that opens to me to the Core, the glow, the rhythm and the heartbeat.

And then I’m gone. An instant I’m in the Iria, then in the middle of a protest, the sound of metal against junk loud in my ear, the screams of pain and rage. Then the eyes of the imitator before attacking, the shahin’s in the throne room, the khadae in the Chamber, filled with disdain. Then Níniam, now sick at death’s door, Hamza wounded after our hiding place was discovered, my mentor dying after we were found too.

The screams, in the background. Kafir, traitor, and the incessant mocking “remember”, the claps that turn into thunder and rain. Then Áine’s eyes cautious when she took care of my wounds, her clean and lasting clothes, her healthy body. I see and remember at the same time, my memory and what the Iria shows me: the streets after the protests, the blood absorbed by the dirt, the bodies piling up in the squares, burnt to be returned to the earth. I feel the cold of winter cut my fingers and ears, the heat of the summer enhancing the putrid smell of the dead. Violence from the guards on a good day, raids by the imitators on a bad one, before, when they hunted us.

The sahira’s apology sounds empty in my ear. It disgusts me for an instant, and then it saddens me.

My wrist hurts from pressing my hand to the stone, my soul from not wanting to move it away.

The hands on my shoulder shake me now, but I break away without breaking contact with the stone. I let what I see, what I feel, etch on my memory, on my body. I show the Púlsar to the Iria, and it anchors itself into the island. I’ve been trapped inside this palace for too long, forgetting what it was like to live my life, the horrors I’ve lived. I got too comfortable.

It exhausts me more than angers me.

The Iria won’t show me more. The past is trapped on him, he’s blocked, and my energy’s out.

When I move away, I don’t look at their faces, eyes burning. Their voices come to me worried as I use the back of my hand to clean my nose, smudging the blood on my right cheek. At my lack of response, they silence. My teeth hurt from clenching them.

“Fiah…” the mirzaan breaks the silence. “Is… Are you…?” He doesn’t finish his sentence.

“I didn’t force it.” My voice is weak, and I hear Garvan snort.

“Sure.”

“I didn’t.” I didn’t force it, I just let it free. I stopped containing it instead of forcing it to stay contained, instead of forcing me to stay contained.

“Ira.” Áine and Garvan have come closer, and the young sahira talks. I hear the fear in her voice and feel it in her gut, knowing that if I were to look into her eyes, she’d see what she believes is Ila in them. My fists close, and I lower my head, the fleeting image of Níniam smiling blinking to turn into dried spots of blood on the walls of the outskirts in front of the Zanji.

“That was dangerous, fiah,” the mirzaan has stepped in front of the rest, and I feel his brother’s creation moving closer, cautious. I avoid Karma’s hand, and move backwards, back to the Iria, his energy warming the back of my neck, the hairs standing.

Danger is growing up being persecuted and sick, danger is not knowing if your end will be by the cold in winter’s night or the fever in summer. Danger is growing up in the outskirts, watched, the sickness of the Iria pilling up bodies on the streets that few bother to take care of; danger is risking my life to steal a creation from an énna and accepting to work for the khadae.

Danger is all of that and what I’ve done since I came to the palace: connecting to the Iria, worsening the situation on the island when I wasn’t even able to maintain a creation for more than a few seconds, then creating without blood, invoking Masrae to avoid dying in the hands of an imitator.

This… freeing what’s mine, something that beats in synch with my own heart… this is survival.

I think of Níniam, of his collection of shiny junk and his whispers asking for stories. Of his sad and sick eyes watching me leave.

When I rise my head I don’t keep the rage out of my eyes, the tears falling down my cheeks, tears of range. The burning of the anger warms my insides, and I don’t want to contain it. Like the Púlsar, I want to see its limits.

“I don’t give a fuck if it’s dangerous!” I move away from him when he steps towards me. Not even the hurt on his face stops me. I opened a door, and all I kept behind it floods out.

“Fiah—”

“Shut up,” I don’t shout, but my voice is strong, deeper than usual. It still breaks. Hurt crosses his face once again. “Shut up,” my legs shake, and I lean to my left like the lack of my creation is throwing me out of balance, even if it’s been months since she was taken away from me. “Don’t call me that. I’m tired of all of this, of all this bullshit of…” of the visions of the Iria, the protests, the smoke and rain and the faces of khithi tired from living like this. The Ecco whispers the words of the imitators, repeating them. Traitor, heretic. My jaw clenches before I shout: “My people are dying in a lost revolution while I sit here, working with the enemy!”

And then, Áine dares to interrupt.

“They are my people too, Ira.” She told I had no idea, but she’s the one that doesn’t know what this is about.

“No, they are not,” she stumbles back when I walk towards her, imitations flashing on the walls and static rising in the air on command. “You haven’t lived through what I have, what we have. You haven’t been starving to the point of thinking you’d die, but unable to do so because the island was keeping you alive, all the while she let everyone you've known die. You haven’t lived with the fear of the guard, or worse,” I laugh, bitter, “the imitators finding the dirty and torn down place where you tried to protect your family.” My breathing goes wild, but I don’t stop to catch my breath. “I have! I have seen them die of hunger! People I knew, strangers that had fed us! I’ve seen them die from the sickness you brought to the island.” Níniam’s face appears in front of me, so young, so weak, so much power trapped inside his small body, urging for an escape but without enough strength to allow it to. Then another one, wrinkles on a face that starts to age, the rage for the hunt substituted by nothingness in orange lifeless eyes in a pool of blood. I can almost feel the texture back in my knees, my hands.

It ends up being too much.

I crack the imitations on the walls, breaking the static. The Iria dims as I let myself fall to my knees, a mirror move from when I discovered my mentor’s dead body. That day, branded with fire in my memory even if I was only a little girl, younger than Níniam is now. Hands lowering me onto a hole well hidden where we kept the water, sounds of conflict, of swords against the table that obstructed the frame without a door. Then a fight, the only I could hear from my hiding place, the familiar smell of the outskirt stinging my eyes.

Shouting, in gair and ilan, moans of pain and threats. “Where is she,” they asked, as I made myself small in the darkness of the hole. Then silence, and a pain like nothing I’d felt before breaking me apart, the energy freed from my mentor going back to the island, and to me.

I didn’t get to shout from the pain because I fell unconscious.

And then, later, when I awoke, shaking after clawing my way out of the hole. My trembling steps to the exit, wood splinters stabbing my feet wet with blood, the hard floor punishing my knees when I let myself fall, hands stained with blood that wasn’t mine in front of me. The creation I was made to protect in my pocket, and lifeless eyes looking at me. I closed my eyes, willing it all to disappear.

It’s what I expect to see now when I open them, but it’s only Karma, kneeling in front of me, a hand halfway to reaching my hands. Behind him, there are the others, looking at the neatly broken in half imitations that now cover the floor. I turn them back to blood and dirt as I sigh.

“Ira?” I return my attention to the mirzaan, and I nod, lowering my head back.

Not even thinking about Níniam’s face brings me strength.

tag list (ask to be added or removed): @my-cursed-prince @on-noon @aquil-writes @dotr-rose-love @e-klair

[squill79]

The Monster (Revised)

This is a revised version of my short story, "The Monster" from a few months back. I really liked how it came out and decided to rewrite it and submit it to my school's magazine. I wanted to write it from a first person POV this time around and I think it's better than the original. Might experiment with more first person POV stories in the future

I’m on my way home from school. I don’t typically walk home but my parents couldn’t pick me up today and I hate taking the bus. So many kids, at least one of them will definitely try and steal something from me. I’d rather spend my time hiking than take my chances with them. I’ve been walking for two and a half hours. My knees can barely continue to hold me upright. I’m tired and hungry and my house is still a couple of miles away. It may be risky, but if I take a shortcut through those woods, I might get home faster.  

The woods are so quiet and peaceful. I should feel a sense of serenity, but I can’t help but be unsettled by my surroundings. There are so many trees, I hope I don’t scrape myself on a branch. The mist is clouding my vision, surrounding me with such an ominous aura. Anything could be hiding here. I don’t get scared that easily, but I’ll admit I’m a little uneasy right now. I’m afraid there’s something behind me, but if I dare turn my head it may be the last thing I ever see. I should just keep my head down and proceed, I can’t let these woods get to me. I’ll be home soon, I’m dying for something to eat. I just heard a thud. What could that possibly be? There’s no way there’s actually something behind me, right? Surely, it’s a delusion, a manifestation of my over-active imagination. I’ll simply turn my head to be sure.  

There’s... a mysterious figure. It’s hardly visible beyond its silhouette, but it’s clearly not human. It’s so tall and lean and... is it getting... closer? Oh geez it’s running STRAIGHT TOWARDS ME! I’m sprinting away, tears streaming down my face. It’s coming for me. What does it want? I’m just a little girl! I can’t possibly be a threat to this thing. I keep running into branches and cutting my face up, but that’s the least of my worries. I’m about to die in these woods to the hands of some unknown creature. I should scream for help! Someone must save m-THWOP. I tripped on the root of a tree. This is the end. That thing is arched over me, preparing to make me its dinner. That thing with its tall, lanky body, wide jaw, sharp toothy scowl, claws you could cut diamonds on, I can hardly take it all in. “I’m so sorry, please spare me! I’m only a kid!”. I’ve resorted to pleading with it, bargaining for my life. "I won’t traverse these woods again, I promise!”. 

 The monster is... staring at me. Standing perfectly still. As if it’s a statue. It must be taunting me. Is my mortality some sick joke to this beast? Does it revel in my suffering? It’s pulling something out from behind its back! This is it, my life is over now. Its mouth is opening, certainly to devour me whole. I’m bracing myself, prepared to meet the end. “Is this yours?”. Huh? I open my eyes to see the monster holding a book to my face. “Your backpack was open and I saw it fall out”.  

It’s my journal for history class. I must have forgotten to zipper my bookbag. “So… you’re not gonna hurt me?". He begins chuckling. “What’s so funny?” 

“Kid, I’ve hurt enough people in my time, just take the book”, he says solemnly. I grab the journal from his cold hand and place it back in my bookbag. I open my mouth as if to say something, but no words come out. Should I thank him for retrieving my book? Or do I apologize for assuming the worst in him? “Don’t worry about it”, he says as he proceeds to retreat to wherever he came from. I continue my journey back home with mixed feelings of relief and despondency. I should have just taken the bus.

[harryscherrypie]

3 am ideas

harry styles x designer!reader

Summary - When it comes to Harry's Haryween outfits, you do tend to go a little bit overboard. This year isn't any different and Harry finds you scribbling down ideas at 3 am... almost a year before the show is even announced.

Word count - 900, she's a short one

Warnings - none

A/n - I am anticipating this year's Harryween outfit and this is my manifestation that Harry will wear a dress again. Fingers crossed.

Series navigation

The door to your home office opened, the sound accompanying the soft pitter-patter of what you were sure were Harry’s steps. He quietly opened the door and slipped into your office, closing the door behind him, and standing behind you.

“S’ 3 am lovie, why are you still up?” He crocked out. You turned to face him.

You were greeted with the sight of his curls all messed up and standing up in all possible directions. He was rubbing his eyes sleepily as he stifled a yawn behind the sleeve of his, your, hoodie.

“M’ sorry, but I couldn’t sleep, so I started on some ideas for your next Halloween costume, I’m kind of just revisiting our scrapped ideas from this year,” you mumbled as you turned your back towards him and looked at the giant cork board on your wall, which was packed with everything you had in mind.

“Love, the next costume will be needed in almost a year, Halloween was a month ago,” Harry sighed defeatedly, clearly wanting to go back to sleep.

“I know, I’m sorry, I just needed to occupy my mind with something, or else I’d go insane,” you mumbled.

Harry’s arms sneaked around your waist and pulled you backward, making you lean against his chest.

“You should’ve woken me up, you know you can wake me up if you need me,” he kissed the top of your head gently.

“I know, but I wanted you to sleep for a little while, I know you’ve been struggling with it lately,” you rubbed your hands up and down the lengths of his arms.

“Tell me, what do you have,” he kissed your shoulder.

“Okay, so going from the reactions of your fans and what they enjoy seeing you in combined with the process of our deciding on a costume this year I came to a conclusion that you will definitely wear a dress again,” you explained your thought process and waited for him to say anything.

“Yeah? They want me in a dress again?” He asked with a slightly strained voice. You could feel his arm tighten around your shoulders slightly shaking.

“Of course they do, you look absolutely stunning in dresses, it’s a shame you don’t wear them more often,” you slipped from underneath his arm and stood in front of him, cradling his cheek in your hand.

“Do you not want to wear a dress?” You asked frowning. You clearly remembered how excited he was to wear a dress that day and pranced around backstage in it way before he had to get ready.

“No, I want to, I guess I just never realized that people liked it, I didn’t check the social media after the concert, I guess I was just scared of it becoming a second cover of vogue situation,” he shrugged but you could see that what you said had made him think.

“Well you should’ve people absolutely loved it, you looked so beautiful, my best work if I’m being honest,” you teased and Harry rolled his eyes.

“Show me your ideas so I can go back to bed,” he urged and you clapped your hands excitedly.

“So dresses, this immediately made me think of Disney princesses. We could do you as Ariel and the band as the little sea creatures, or I was also thinking of you as Ursula and Mitch as Ariel because of the hair, next, I thought of you as cinderella and the band as mice and someone could do the fairy godmother and a pumpkin that would be so adorable,” you animatedly explained your visions to Harry as you showed him some rough sketches you have been working on.

“That sounds really nice, the cinderella one especially,” he smiled down at the sketches and ran his fingertips over them, visualizing the outfits.

“One concern I have though would be how you would move on stage because your dance moves are questionable sometimes, so you either sacrifice movement for one show and calm down a bit or we do like a short dress which I thought could be a bit sexier,” you scribbled a note down when you explained.

“I think I could calm it down for a show, you know, for the sake of the dress,” he shrugged.

“Okay, but my main idea wasn’t Ariel or Cinderella, I actually thought of this when I saw you with the little bow this year. Hear me out, you as Snow White and the band as the dwarves,” you grinned and waited for his reaction. He thought about it for a little while before he smiled a big grin, nearly matching yours, and nodded his head.

“That would be absolutely amazing, I think we should go with this one,” he decided as he looked over the sketch of him in a snow-white inspired ballgown you handed him.

“We would have to figure out the length because I won’t put you in something floor length because you wouldn’t be able to move at all, but something close to ankles or slightly above,” you bit the end of a pencil as you wrote it down.

“This will look so amazing, with the puffy sleeves and the bow in your hair, oh, and we will put a little bit of blush on your cheeks, oh, you will look so beautiful,” you cooed at your vision, making Harry blush slightly from all the compliments.

“Let’s go to bed, I will call Alessandro tomorrow so we can start working on proper sketches, oh god I’m excited,” you skipped around your office putting things away quickly so you could take Harry back to bed.

“M’ excited too, I love wearing dresses,” he smiled as he watched you tidy your desk slightly.

“Come on, we have so much work to do when we wake up,” you ushered him to take your hand and you pulled him into your bedroom.

----

Thanks for reading this short little piece, I will probably make a follow-up to this one but let me know if you enjoyed it and if you have any ideas or requests for fics then let me know too.

Thank you, love you <3

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Grumpy villain who for some reason has to save sunshine hero, who is badly injured, almost dying. Then when they're safe villain has a break down in front of hero?

Idk if i explained myself well, english is not my first language, sorry.

Have a lovely day/night! I love your writing. <3

“Are you alright?” the villain asked. They felt the shaking in their fingers, how the blood shot through their veins and this oh so familiar feeling of being crushed to death.

They wished they had some power to control their state of panic. They wished there was something they could do, some neat mind controlling trick they could use on themselves to bring their heart rate back to healthy 80 beats per minute.

“I’m still alright, yep!” the hero answered, grinning at the villain, their face still decorated with their own blood. “Just like five minutes ago!”

“Good, good,” the villain said but their body didn’t make any efforts to reduce their own miserable state. They were gasping for air right now.

They could’ve lost the hero.

The villain had recently thought about when losing to the hero had become losing the hero and why the latter was the bigger fear out of the two. But honestly, the villain couldn’t tell. Everything blurred together. It had happened a few months ago, maybe even last year…

“Are you alright, though?” the hero asked cautiously from the (villain’s) big desk chair in which they were sitting. “You look pale.”

“I’m good.” The villain tried to sound as cold as always but their voice seemed to break. “I’m alright. Do you need more painkillers? Do you want to take a nap? You must be exhausted. I can arrange something…my henchmen could…”

They looked at the bloody cloth on the desk, soaked in red soup. They hadn’t finished cleaning up the hero’s face…they knew they had to…

The villain felt their head spin, their muscles tense. They grabbed their desk so they wouldn’t fall over.

“Hey—” The hero made a motion as if they were going to get up.

“Don’t,” the villain warned. They squeezed their eyes shut. “Please don’t move. You’re hurt.”

“You are hurt,” the hero protested. They were still wrapped in all the blankets the villain could find in their basement an hour ago. “What is going on? Should I call someone?”

“No,” the villain gasped. They closed their eyes again, trying to blink the white shapes out of their vision.

“Are you freaking out right now?”

“Kinda,” the villain admitted and then there it was.

They started crying. They didn’t sob. They didn’t contort their face. They simply started zoning out, tears streaming down their face.

And all of it because the nasty nightmares they had tried to fight for the last hours came back into their mind and manifested as too real, too terrifying pictures in their mind.

The hero dead, beaten with blood all over them on their bed.

The hero dead, poisoned with vomit all over them on the ground.

The hero dead, burnt with nothing but ashes all over them in their own house.

“Hey,” the hero said softly, snapping the villain out of their little horror show. “You were great back then, I appreciate what you did.”

“Please stop talking,” the villain said even though this wasn’t what they wanted.

“I mean it.” The hero stood up and to watch them hold their wounds made the villain’s stomach turn.

They could only imagine the pain the hero was going through: their flesh torn apart, one gunshot wound, stab wounds, broken bones, countless bruises…

“It’s okay. I’m okay. You’re okay,” the hero whispered. They took the villain’s hand and squeezed it lightly. They pulled the arm that wasn’t in a sling out of the many blankets and let their fingers comb through the villain’s hair.

“Thank you for saving me,” they said as their fingers pushed hair out of the villain’s eyes, as they scratches lovingly their scalp, as they travelled down to the villain’s jaw and wiped the tears away. “I don’t know what to do without you.”

The villain felt themselves calming down. The hero was there. They were touching them. They weren’t dead.

“That’s a lie,” the villain said, a small smile on their face. Their hands were still shaking though. “You’re good.”

“I wouldn’t have survived without you.” Suddenly, the hero stood up on tiptoes and pressed a kiss to the villain’s cheek. “This is the least I can do. Let me help you calm down, okay? We can help each other?”

The now blushing villain nodded slowly, eyes lost in the hero’s.