#I watched the eternals when it came out and I barely remember any of it. I can name a few characters and that’s it

[azrielbrainrot]

Moonlit Shadows - Act II

Pairing: Azriel x F!Reader

Description: When tasked to find the once famed Temple of the Moon Goddess, Azriel only expected to find old forgotten ruins, if anything at all. He could have never imagined that not only would he find a temple but also someone who would change his life forever.

Tropes/Tags: Star Crossed Lovers (in a way), Forbidden Romance, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, some Angst with a Happy Ending

Warnings: hints of angst, tiny bit suggestive, making out?

Word Count: 8,7k

Rating: 18+

Notes: This part was running even longer than the first one so I split it into two parts and my plans for this story to only have 3 parts have changed into 4. I can't help myself in adding little details to this story, I love these two so much. Also just realized how long it has been since the first part, I'm so sorry for how long it took. Hope you enjoy!

Act I

It's almost unbelievable how much life can change within two weeks, to the point Azriel can hardly remember what it was like to live without a mate, without you. This is only the third time he has come to the temple after you agreed to give the bond a try, and he's already eternally glad you did. Sitting on the steps to the temple, watching the sun set over the mountain while his mate told him about her life was now a normal occurrence. He truly couldn't believe his luck.

Not even a month ago, Azriel would have spent the time he had between missions either training himself to exhaustion or simply doing some more spy work behind his High Lord's back. Every family dinner or outing was plagued by his cruel thoughts, always murmuring about his unworthiness while he watched his friends happy and in love, never allowing him a moment of reprieve. But now he got to meet his mate, talk to her for hours and learn her innermost thoughts. By the Mother, he was even contemplating asking Rhys for some time off for the first time in his life so he could see you more often.

“It's impossible to get tired of this view,” you murmur, taking in the barely visible sun rays as the sky turns different shades of pink and orange. As cliché as it sounds, Azriel thought the same thing as he watched you.

He manages to drag his eyes away from your beautiful, peaceful face, studying the view you'd shared with him. You were right, this view could easily rival Velaris at night. Since the temple sat at the top of the mountain, you could see the entire forest from here, and, as beautiful as the sunset had been, he knows the moonlight brings out the true beauty of this place, and yours as well. It's almost unbelievable how you could become even more captivating than you already were, he could hardly take his eyes off you when the moon rays were shining down on you, reflecting on your white hair and adding an even more intense twinkle to your white, silvery eyes.

“How long have you been living here?”

“Almost four hundred years,” you say, nibbling on the biscuits the temple provided at the wave of your hand. He had learned the temple shared a similar spell to the House of Wind and Rhys' cabin. “I was almost thirty when I came.”

The thought of you locked in this temple for that long brings up memories of the dark cell his father kept him in when he was a child, but he tries to shake them away quickly. You were here of your own free will, and as far as he could tell you rather enjoyed living in the temple. This place couldn't be compared to the cell he'd been in any way.

He hopes you didn't catch where his thoughts went, this bond is hard to control most of the time and feelings often filter through unattended. It's because of the feelings the bond brings up that he often finds himself thinking of those moments he has been trying to forget for centuries as well. It almost feels like the bond is prying open everything he has kept locked away, wanting to lay him bare before his mate.

Still, it was hard to believe that you would be completely satisfied living hidden away, no matter how shiny your cage or how fulfilling your role in the temple was. He enjoys his quiet time a lot more than the average person, something even his family doesn't understand at times, but he can't imagine what it's like to live alone for centuries, with no one's company but your own. Azriel couldn't have survived with only his thoughts as company, not when his mind is such an ugly place, even his duty wouldn't keep him alive then.

You smile up at him before he has the chance to put his worries into the right words. “I know what you're thinking. It gets lonely up here, I can't deny that, and I know I've missed a lot of experiences over the course of my life, some that I might never get the chance to relive, but I've always been happy up here.”

“Do you have any family left? Friends?”

“No. Any friends I had before coming here have probably long forgotten about me, some might not even be alive anymore,” you look at him then, hesitation making itself known in your tone and mannerisms. He might have overstepped without meaning to.

“My parents passed away a few decades ago. They came to visit me as much as they could, and we'd send each other letters every few weeks. They came by to spend every Solstice and birthday with me.” You let out a small laugh, “Once they had a little fight and my mom just showed up here with a bag full of clothes and a couple boxes of cupcakes.” You look down at your hands, a lump forming in your throat, “They're the ones I miss the most.”

“I'm sorry.”

There was a tight feeling coiling around his chest, but he can't quite pinpoint if it was his own response to you being sad or if your feelings were bleeding into his own. All he knew is that he wanted to put a smile back on your face.

“It's okay. They were both close to a millennia old and lived their life to the fullest. I would have liked to be with them in their final moments, but it wouldn't have changed anything.”

“Is it really impossible for you to leave? Even at times like those?”

You clear your throat, trying to get rid of the emotion talking about your parents' deaths evoked. “Yes, being bound to the temple is part of the oath I made. I'm not entirely sure what would happen if I actually managed to break the wards, but I would lose my powers and wouldn't be able to come back at the very least.”

The emphasis you put into the final words told him you thought more would happen. Breaking an oath with a God could very well be fatal, since even a regular bargain made between fae can take someone's life if not fulfilled. He feels a string tightening around his heart as it usually does when he's reminded of your predicament. You will never leave this temple, and, as much as he wants to respect your wishes, he can't help but mourn what your life could have been, what the two of you could have been. There's so much he wishes he could show you, beautiful places he wants to take you to, and people he wishes you could meet.

“There were times when it was hard to be stuck here.” Your voice breaks him out of his thoughts, finding you've turned around, sitting cross-legged as you face him. “Obviously it was hard when my parents died, though the Goddess allowed their ashes to be brought to me so I could scatter them on this mountain,” your eyes travel to his wings, lingering on a few scars that will never leave the leathery skin, “I think it was even harder to bear when Amarantha came into Prythian and imprisoned the High Lords, and then when the war with Hybern broke out.”

You let silence fall between you for a few moments, eyes falling down onto your hands, kneading your left palm with your thumb as the first rays of moonlight made the aura around you more noticeable, a faint white light glowing around your entire body. He hopes it's not sacrilegious to think so, but you truly looked like a Goddess in this moment. His eyes fall onto your hands as well, debating on reaching to hold them in his warm ones when you resume your explanation.

“This power the Goddess shared with me has made me very strong, enough so that She leaves the protection of the temple entirely to me, but the biggest downside is that I can't help outside these wards,” you look up into his eyes then, regret lacing into your words, “I could have helped you. If the oath that gave me these powers didn't include staying in this temple, I could have tried to placate Amarantha before she could take everyone Under the Mountain, or at the very least fight alongside you during the war. A lot of people wouldn't have lost their lives if I could have helped.”

He understands what you mean, he has fought even while injured multiple times, during this war even, not willing to stop when he knows he can help even if it cost him his life, so he knows that watching from afar knowing you could have made a difference had to have been extremely frustrating, but he also can't help but feel selfishly glad you weren't there. The war had been bloody and cruel, if he could he would shield you from that sight if it was the last thing he did.

“You said it was Fate that decided you were supposed to live in this temple and protect it, right?” You nod, confusion written on your face. “Then it wasn't your place to be in the war. The temple was written into your life, and the war was written into ours. There's nothing we can do to change our fate.”

He seems to have said the right thing as you watch his face, the pained expression you previously wore slowly being replaced with a happier one, a smile even making its way into your lips, not quite as bright as before but a good start nonetheless.

“I still wish I could have gone,” you say, a twinkle in your eye, “maybe then you would have been written into my life sooner.”

Azriel had never found himself blushing as often as he does when he's around you in the five hundred years he's been alive. The worst part is it seems like you're not doing it on purpose. You keep complimenting him, showing him how much you enjoy having him in your life effortlessly, as if it's simply in your nature. Still, he can clearly see how much you enjoy the fact that you can bring him to this state so easily, a proud expression obvious on your face as you watch color take over the tips of his ears. Luckily for him, it's extremely easy to turn you into a bashful mess as well.

He shifts his weight onto his palm, leaning closer to you, a swift and fast movement, that of a trained soldier. Your sweet, intoxicating scent assaults him instantly, images of how he would let it intertwine with his own invading his mind for a treacherous moment - the mating bond seldom lets him have a moment of peace. Your breath hitches under his attention, wide eyes locked onto his.

“We've been written into each other's lives from the moment we were born, before our world was created even.” Your eyes travel down to his lips for a beat, the movement was quick enough that he might have mistaken it if it weren't for your proximity. It brings a satisfied smile to his lips as he adds, “whether at the temple or on that battlefield I would have found my way to you. That I can promise you.”

The reaction you give him is nothing short of delicious. Mouth slightly agape as you struggle to maintain eye contact at his confession, the wild rhythm of your heartbeat ringing in his ears and down the bond. He decides to push his luck a bit and test the waters, leaning even closer, enough so that your warm breath meets his skin, eyes dropping to your lips before stealing a cookie from the plate that sat beside you, straightening up as he brings it to his mouth, giving you space once more. He can't help the smile from growing when he hears your intake of breath, eyes dropping to your lap and hands smoothing down your skirt as you try to regain composure.

On one hand, he almost feels bad for teasing you like this, knowing there's a big difference in how you have both led your lives up to this point, even if you're relatively close in age. He would also hate to make you feel actually uncomfortable in any way. But, on the other hand, he wants nothing more than to whisper the most depraved things he wants to do to you so he can watch desire take over your face, so he can erase any semblance of innocence away. Although knowing exactly how experienced or not you are will end up being pertinent information if you both choose to keep chasing this bond, Azriel decides to take mercy on you tonight and change the subject.

“What was your life like before coming here?”

Looking up at him with tinted cheeks and wide eyes, you blink a few times, taking you a moment to answer, probably not expecting him to ask you a question so soon or too lost in your thoughts - he briefly wonders if they're any similar to his. Azriel can almost feel the bond purring, that ancient, inexplicable tether delighted at both your reaction and his playfulness, at your closeness.

“I'd say I used to live a pretty normal life,” you start, focusing on his shadows as they played over the steps, still too embarrassed to keep his gaze, “I used to live in a fairly small town, one of those where everyone knows each other and nothing too exciting ever happens,” a nostalgic smile takes over your lips, remembering your childhood. Azriel wishes he could take you back there, have you show him around the place where you grew up.

“My parents owned a small bakery so I helped them around before coming here. I liked baking with them, I wasn't too bad at it either, though the early schedule wasn't my favorite, I always liked sleeping in.” You seem lost in thought for a moment before shrugging and continuing, “Outside of that I had a few friends and a couple of lovers… nothing special.”

Azriel tries to ignore the sick twist of jealousy he feels at the mention of past lovers, knowing it's completely unfair to you, and irrelevant to your relationship now, but that damned bond doesn't know the first thing about rationality. Rhysand wasn't kidding when he said the mating bond grates, at times it was almost suffocating.

“One of the things I miss the most from those times are my parents' pastries,” you pout slightly, a playful glint in your eyes, “I may be biased but they were delicious.”

“It might not be the same, but I can bring you some from Velaris,” he offers. “The bakeries in town are always putting out new delicious things. I'm sure you would love them.”

“I'd like that very much, Azriel,” you say, that blinding smile he loves so much returning to your lips, a smile of his own mirroring yours. His name sounds like heaven, hell, and everything in between falling from your lips.

“Next time I'll bring you some of my favorites,” he pauses, a thought occurring to him as he tilts his head, “Actually, I don't have too much of a sweet tooth so I'll bring you Cassian's favorites instead. I think you would much prefer the chocolate covered cakes he likes to eat than my lemon tarts.”

“It's a deal then,” you nod at him, extending your hand for him to take, Azriel doesn't resist even for a second, letting you shake his hand as if you were in fact making a business transaction. “And if you come empty-handed I might put in a word with the Goddess and not let you in.” He lets out a chuckle, squeezing your hand before reluctantly letting go, missing the warmth of your palm against his immediately. To think there would come a day where he would actually want someone to keep holding his hand.

“You can bring some of your lemon tarts too, I want to try what you like first,” you tilt your head, “but you're right, my favorite is always chocolate.”

Azriel chuckles, “Both it is.”

The rest of your time together is spent much like this, talking for hours about any and everything. By the time he forces himself to tell you he needs to go back to Velaris, the moon was already ready to make its way for the sun once more, and your eyelids were significantly heavier, trying your hardest to ignore your fatigue in favor of staying with him for as long as possible.

He never knows what to do or say when it's time to say goodbye to you. It's abundantly clear that neither of you want him to leave. There's also always a part of him that fears he won't be able to come back, that for whatever reason the Goddess decides he's not in need of the temple anymore and the wards keep him out of your reach.

Aside from that, your relationship has been walking the line between platonic and romantic from the first day. You wanted to keep your heart and his as safe as possible given the entire situation. He couldn't fault you for that, but that meant you were stuck acting like friends, as if a mating bond wasn't connecting your bodies and souls, and because of it Azriel couldn't grab your cheeks and kiss you like he's been desperately dreaming of, even though your eyes find themselves entranced by his lips as often as the other way around.

As he gets lost in thought, wondering how your lips would taste, your eyes drop to his shadows, unaware of it all. Dark wisps moving from his own natural shadow cast by the moonlight to yours, some of the bravest, more disobedient ones even swirling up to your ankles tentatively. At least they were still being respectful.

“They like me,” you smile brightly down at them.

Like is not a strong enough word to describe his shadows' feelings when it comes to you. At times it's even hard to make them focus on their job as they sit and wonder what you're up to in the temple. Part of this might be his fault since he has always used them to spy on anyone he needed to, and now he's finding it hard to explain to these beings, who struggle with social cues as it is, that spying is a breach of privacy, something he only does because it's his job, and the last thing he would ever do to you, so they can't go and check on you simply because he misses you every second of the day.

Apart from that they've also taken to giving him romantic advice - which has been disturbing to say the least, - whispering words into his ear that they think you would like to hear, trying to guide him to the flowers or pastries they somehow know you prefer as he passes by the market street, even pushing him to sing to you. They go as far as trying to convey their own feelings to you through him, whispering praises in his ear, and in turn making the bond inside him wish he could send his own shadows on a trip to the bottom of the ocean never to return.

“Yes, I think they do,” he says defeatedly as he watches one of his impertinent shadows travel up to your hand, swirling around it as you bring it up closer to your face for inspection. He can't wait to hear how delighted it is of gaining your attention.

“Shouldn't they hide from the light?”

Azriel takes a step closer, holding your hand and ordering the shadows to cross over to his body so he can have this moment with you. Raising his hand up to your cheek, scarred thumb caressing your soft skin as he murmurs, “Not from yours.”

The irony of his mate being someone who quite literally glowed in the dark wasn't lost on him. For some reason, the fact only further proved you were made for each other in his mind. It's almost like the Mother was telling him that no matter how dark his soul was, it would never diminish your light as it glowed ever eternal alongside your Goddess.

“I really have to go now.”

It pains him to say it, but he's already going to be late and that'll raise questions he's been trying very hard to avoid. It was enough of a miracle that Rhys hadn't told anyone - outside of Feyre of course - that Azriel had found his mate, and he would like to keep it that way for as long as possible. They would ask him too many questions he wouldn't know how to answer, and, admittedly, he also wants to avoid the teasing comments while the bond is so fresh - nothing good can come out of giving Cassian and Nesta a way to make him blush with only a couple of words.

“Alright,” you smile up at him, but it doesn't reach your eyes. Every time he has to leave you behind, he considers giving up everything and moving to this temple with you.

You raise on your tiptoes to place a kiss on his cheek, his eyes closing as a shudder runs through him, wings coiling tighter into his back. His other hand comes up to the other side of your face, his lips falling upon your forehead as a wave of satisfaction rushes his side of the bond. Both of your hearts beating wildly as he steps away slowly and starts walking closer to the edge of the stairs.

“I'll come back as soon as possible,” he promises one more time before taking flight.

“I know, Azriel. I'll be waiting.”

⭒.˚ ☾⭒.˚

The unmistakable feeling of someone passing through the barrier rushes over you, sending your heart racing immediately. For a moment you think it's Azriel coming by unannounced, a smile breaking out on your lips as you get up to your feet, but a quick look into the bond that lays dormant inside you is enough to tell you he's still in Velaris, far away from the temple.

Your smile drops and a wave of sadness washes over you, freezing you in place, heart dropping at the reminder of the distance that lays between you and your mate, of the days you'll still have to endure alone before his next visit.

You feel movement again, now closer to the top steps, and shake yourself out of unwanted thoughts, pushing them all to the back of your mind as you shake any stray cookie crumbs from your trousers. If it isn't Azriel coming to see you then it's definitely someone coming to visit the temple, and you have a duty to fulfill.

It's only been a few weeks since Azriel first came looking for the temple, you've never had visitors showing up so close together. They're usually few and far in between, leaving you on your own atop the mountain for years at a time as the rumors about the temple die off among most of the population. The prospect of seeing someone again so soon has excitement rushing through your veins, completely overshadowing the solemn feelings from before.

You walk to the mirror, quickly checking your appearance before winnowing straight to the top of the stairs, catching your new visitor by surprise as she walks towards the temple slowly. The gasp she lets out when she spots you waiting for her brings a bigger smile to your lips, making you almost giddy as you cross your hands behind your back.

“Welcome to the Temple of the Moon. I'm the keeper and sole habitant of this temple and I've been tasked to keep it safe from any possible threats as well as helping anyone the Goddess deems worthy of being shown the way, just like you have.”

The well rehearsed speech comes to you naturally, the words flowing effortlessly from your mouth as you take in your visitor's wonder, curious eyes taking in the beautiful place. Of course she didn't have any speech rehearsed but it might as well have been since her next words mirror everyone else's when they arrive.

“I never knew there was a temple here,” the awe in her face brings you the usual sense of pride.

“It's a bit of a secret,” you wink at her, walking closer to the temple, motioning with your hand for her to follow you.

“My grandmother used to say these mountains were the most beautiful place in Prythian so I wanted to spread her ashes here, but I always thought she meant the actual mountains,” she muses. “This place is breathtaking.”

“The temple is hidden behind a powerful spell. I'm afraid when talking about this day your memories will be somewhat limited,” you explain softly as you lead her to the gardens in the back, the perfect view for her grandmother's final resting place.

As you go through the usual explanation, you realize you truly skipped most of it when it came to Azriel's first visit, though you still think you did better than expected given the circumstances. It's easy to forget your own name or any rehearsed speeches when you find yourself face to face with your mate.

The rest of the visit goes by fairly quickly. You lead her to the gardens and let her choose the perfect place among the flowers and trees, helping her spread the ashes as instructed, saying a quick prayer and then allowing her a moment to grieve, standing off to the side while still keeping a watchful eye over everything.

You can't help but let your eyes wander to the spot where you had spread your parents' ashes, the tears lining the young fae's eyes reminding you of the countless ones you had spilled as you went through the same. Over the years you've grown somewhat accustomed to their absence, - never fully, you've long since accepted that would be impossible, - but recent events have made you bitterly aware of it.

You wished you could tell your parents you had found your mate, would give anything to feel the anxiety of introducing them to Azriel. Now you can only imagine nervously writing them a letter, telling them all about the charming fae the Mother had chosen for you. They would show up at the temple the next day, not even the Goddess would be able to keep your mother from meeting her daughter's fated mate. Gods, they would have loved him.

A weak sigh escapes you. Nothing could take away the pain of losing a loved one, but you hope that the thought that her grandmother now lies within the temple's walls will lessen her grief even if just for a moment.

It's time to accompany her back to the stairs in no time, her tearful thanks and goodbyes echoing over the entrance hall. Watching the young fae descend the steps brings you a sense of accomplishment as usual, but this time there's an annoyingly acute emptiness growing inside you, tainting it.

Most visitors don't linger in the temple, only getting what they came for before going on their way, before going back to their busy lives, but as you watch her disappear between the trees, you're left wishing she would have stayed longer, sat with you and talked for a moment.

It wouldn't be fair not to acknowledge that this feeling had always manifested inside you after every visit you've received over the centuries, especially back when your parents were the ones stopping by and leaving you with hesitant glances over their shoulders, but you know that it had only grown more noticeable after Azriel first arrived.

Becoming familiar with someone's presence once again had made you more aware of your situation, more aware of just how many words and thoughts you had been keeping to yourself in your years of seclusion. It reminded you of how alone you truly were up in this temple. Before, the silence had been part of your routine, something you had no problem falling back onto after the rare visitor came and disturbed it. Now it felt like a consistently harder task, the silence ringing too loud in your ears, making you too aware of the echo that followed your footsteps.

Sitting down on the first step, you let out a sigh from deep in your chest, stretching your legs out, only noticing then that you had not changed out of your slippers in your rush earlier. It's a shame, you only really wear your nicer shoes when you have guests, which even with Azriel's more regular visits doesn't happen nearly often enough.

You feel yet another stab through your heart when you realize your first instinct is wanting to share the news with your mate, tell him about your visitor and your silly mistake, tell him how it reminded you of your parents and maybe even confide in him how lonely it all had made you feel.

You've been alone for so long that you had forgotten what wanting to share every exciting thing that happens with someone felt like. What is quickly becoming a familiar ache settles over you at the cold reminder that Azriel isn't within your reach. You'll have to wait until he visits again to share these news with him and see the smile on his face.

It's been over a week since he last came by, which wouldn't be much time at all if he weren't your mate and you couldn't feel him through the bond, so close but so far away. He warned you he would be busy with an assignment, even promised he would make it up to you when he was finished with it, but you can't rationalize how much you miss him or how much you wish he was by your side, and so you keep sitting on those steps well into the night, waiting for someone who isn't coming.

⭒.˚ ☾⭒.˚

With delectable excitement running through his veins, the kind that only you could bring out of him, Azriel takes one last look in the mirror, fixing his shirt and running his fingers through his hair, making sure everything looks perfect and in place before entrusting yet another box of pastries to his shadows. He has been on the hunt for the best chocolate cookies in Velaris ever since you told him they were your favorite, but he also can't stop himself from trying to spoil you in any way he can.

It's been over a week since he last saw you, and Azriel has been counting down the days for your next meeting ever since he left your side. He couldn't help but feel uncharacteristically annoyed whenever he remembered the mission that ended up keeping him away from home, and in turn from you, for several days. Deep down he knew Rhys had actually been giving him more free time to go visit you than he usually would have in other circumstances, even covering for him when he disappeared for hours on end so the others didn't find it too suspicious. Unfortunately, the bond often spoke louder, and with it came a moodiness that Azriel only felt lifting up earlier today, when he started getting ready to see you.

He makes his way downstairs, already worrying about how the flight will mess up the hair he had just been combing through so carefully. If it weren't for the wards surrounding the House of Wind, he would have winnowed straight to the temple.

“You took a bath.”

A voice coming from the sitting room calls after him, effectively stopping him in his tracks, shadows crawling up his tense body. He curses himself, some spymaster he was, so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't even notice he had company nor the forethought to avoid it. It seems he won't be able to leave without anyone noticing after all.

Azriel hesitates for a moment, unwilling to linger and lose even a second of precious time with his mate. Leaving would only make him appear more suspicious though, so he takes a couple steps into the room instead, finding the oldest and the youngest Archeron sisters looking back at him with amusement written in their eyes.

“I bathe.”

“You don't usually use any of the smelling washes.” Nesta's tone sounds nothing short of accusatory, glancing at Feyre while she talks as if trying to prove a point. “Not since recently at least.”

Azriel was never one to overthink about his appearance, perfectly content with keeping things simple, so it really doesn't come as a surprise that his best friend would notice his newly found appreciation for it. He had also not only accepted a few of Mor's invites to go shopping but also started using the clothes, fragrances and even accessories her and Rhys had gifted him over the years - something that unfortunately the High Lord had picked up on too and teased him relentlessly for whenever they were alone.

And, even in his recent distracted state, he would have to be a fool not to notice Nesta's curiosity towards his whereabouts and sudden mood changes. She has even been asking him about his missions, feigning interest in his spymaster duties just so she can catch him in a lie, knowing he would never dress like this to go spy on their enemies.

“Are you suggesting I smell, Nesta?”

“No, you smell amazing,” she clarifies quickly, sounding so sincere that he feels the corner of his mouth twitch up. Now he almost wishes Cassian was here.

“Then what's the problem?”

Knowing Feyre as well he does, it's extremely commendable that she's managing to keep quiet through this whole conversation, even more so that she hasn't said anything when Nesta surely came asking her what she knew. It also sends a certain warmth through him that she's going against her instincts to keep his secret - even though she and Rhysand have probably been gossiping about him every chance they get.

“There's no problem. I'm simply curious,” she says, clearing her throat before adding with a wicked glint in her eye, “you can't tell me you used your best smelling cologne to go on a mission.”

“I didn't say I was going on a mission,” he says, humoring her for a bit.

As amusing as this unexpected back and forth was turning out to be, it was, at the same time, stealing some of the precious time he had with you. He should have already made it out of Velaris, over the mountains where he would winnow straight to you.

“Then where are you going, if you don't mind me asking?”

“I'm going to have dinner with my mother,” Azriel offers, tone not wavering around the lie even for a moment.

“Oh.”

He feels a little bad for lying, especially since he's using his mother of all people as an excuse, but he knows that if he explained the situation to her she wouldn't mind at all. In fact, this reminded him to make some time to visit his mom, not only had it been quite a while since he last went, but he also wanted to tell her all about you.

Hiding the truth from Nesta and the rest of his family wasn't something he was content with either. Azriel knows they would all be overjoyed with the fact that he had found his Mother blessed mate, but he wanted to make sense of the situation before telling them. As things stand you're simply his friend, even with the shimmering bond between you, and you're still up in your temple, far away from everyone. He wouldn't even be able to properly explain the situation or his feelings on it, Gods know he tries whenever Rhys asks. He probably wouldn't even be able to take them to meet you.

Talking to his mother was always easier though. She never expected answers or explanations, she truly only wanted him to be happy. He can imagine the load off her shoulders it would be to find out her son had found a mate. Yes, he needs to make time to tell her, if no one else.

“I hope you have a lovely dinner, Az,” Feyre says, hiding a knowing smile behind her teacup, apparently not helping herself in at least getting a word in.

“Yes, I hope it all goes well,” Nesta adds, recovering rather quickly, the glint returning to her eyes as she likely reminds herself that one dinner with his mother doesn't explain all his strange recent behavior. Maybe he could still make a spy out of her, she's definitely determined.

Azriel simply nods and bids them a quick goodbye, doing his best to walk at a normal place to the front door, a relieved sigh escaping him when he shoots up into the air, passing the wards keeping the House of Wind safe, feeling himself get engulfed by his shadows as they take him closer to you.

⭒.˚ ☾⭒.˚

“When you first showed up I thought you weren't a good flier,” you reminisce, leaning back further into the cushions propped at your back, a smile playing at your lips. “Or that maybe you were still young.”

Azriel's gaze darts around the library at your words, a breath escaping him before his beautiful hazel eyes meet yours once again. Biting your lip, you try to stop your smile from growing as you watch a flush traveling across his skin, crawling up his delectable neck until his rounded ears become tinted with a pinkish color.

“My wings froze in place,” he admits with a soft smile of his own. “It's a miracle I landed on my feet at all.”

A giggle escapes you then, followed by a breathy chuckle from him, remembering the way his knees had buckled under his weight, how your own felt equally as weak in the face of the all-consuming mating bond. The sound echoes around the library for a moment, carrying around the bookshelves and artifacts laying about, a delighted sound that these walls have not been privy to too often, so used to the silence as they were, as you were.

This was the first time you've brought him into the library since his first visit and the initial tour of the temple you had given him. You usually stay outside whenever Azriel comes to visit, either sitting by the steps watching the moon and the stars, or in the garden, on a bench by the flowers; under a tree, taking advantage of the soft grass that grows here with the Goddess' blessing. But as time passes and his visits become more frequent, you suddenly felt the urge to show him different parts of the temple, to have these little dates - if you could even call them that - in different places to make up for the fact that you couldn't leave the temple's grounds. The light rain that fell today, signaling the end of summer, had been the perfect opportunity.

What you didn't expect was for it to feel so much more intimate. It shouldn't have come as a surprise honestly, this is your house after all and even if he had been here multiple times he had never really lingered inside so now bringing him to the room you spend most of your days in feels different, it made your heart beat faster as soon as he walked in, the bond screaming in elation when he sat in the sofa you're curled in almost every day, taking his place by your side. You don't think you'll ever be able to sit here without this image popping up into your mind.

“I think you did good under the circumstances,” you offer, hand twitching at your side, wanting to reach out and touch the flush covering his cheek, reaching for another cookie instead to keep your treacherous fingers occupied.

Azriel had made good on his promise to bring you every pastry and sweet from Velaris, never arriving at the temple without carrying something delicious within his shadows. Today he brought you various cookies of different shapes, sizes and flavors. They were all delicious, their rich taste blooming in your mouth when you bit into them, but it seems he overestimates just how much you can eat, especially since he barely helps you at all - you swear you've only seen him eat one singular cookie since you opened this box.

“It sounds like you're just saying that to make me feel better.” You shake your head in denial, you really weren't, but he continues before you can say anything else. “Us Illyrians take a lot of pride in our flying abilities, you know? I'm not sure I can let this go so easily.” The teasing smile that blooms on his face is completely mesmerizing, it almost makes you forget yourself. “You'll have to let me show you.”

It takes you a moment too long to process his words, your silver eyes too caught up on his inviting lips to pay any attention to what he said. You'd like to blame these moments where your thoughts stray when you look at Azriel on the bond, but you're not so sure it was all its doing. If he notices he doesn't let it show, allowing you to meet his eyes again like nothing had happened.

“You want to take me flying?”

“If you let me,” he murmurs softly. The excitement written in his eyes was contagious, and if you didn't know any better you'd say he had been waiting on a chance to ask you.

You'd be lying if you said you hadn't thought of the possibility ever since you first laid eyes on Azriel. You had never seen a winged fae before so flying always seemed like a childish dream, but now you couldn't help feeling a hint of wistfulness every time you saw him land swiftly on top of the steps. Who wouldn't want to fly? The thought of the wind caressing your skin as you cut through the clouds sounded heavenly, not to mention Azriel's arms wrapped around you as he held you against him. The thought summons warmth to your chest, and lower.

“I'd like that,” you say, “but I'm not sure if it will work because of my oath. We would not be able to go far.”

“Around the temple should be fine, right?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“It's a promise then,” he smiles brightly down at you. “Next time I'll take you flying. I would take you right now but it's still raining.”

“Do you know when the next time will be?”

The words escape you before your brain catches up to them. The way his smile falters, and some of his shadows rush to him from where they had been lazily swirling around the library makes you want to take them back immediately. You know they do that when he's upset or sad, something you rarely see when he comes to the temple. The thought that you were the one to make him so makes you want to rip out your heart and beg for his forgiveness.

“I'm only curious. I didn't mean anything by it,” you rush to explain, the last thing you wanted was for him to think you blamed him, or expected more of him. Azriel had been nothing short of perfect and understanding given your limitations.

“I would come every day if I could.”

“I know, Azriel.” You can hear the longing in his voice, filtering in through the bond as well, even if he tries to hide it. “I would go to you if I could too.”

Thankfully this brings the smile back to his lips, even if still somewhat overshadowed by the reality of your relationship. You've noticed Azriel has a hard time believing he's wanted, and you probably only make it worse since you have not accepted the bond.

“I'm not sure when the next time will be. I should be free in a couple of days, but if Rhys and Feyre need me in the meantime it might be longer, and I don't want to keep your hopes up if I might not be able to show up after all,” he explains as he reaches out for your hand tentatively, holding it delicately in his as his thumb starts drawing circles over your open palm, sending a tingling feeling shooting up your arm and straight to your chest. Shouldn't you be the one comforting him?

“I'll be here waiting either way, Azriel. I don't want you to neglect your work because of me,” you say, squeezing his hand, holding it tighter in yours.

“I'm not. There's no immediate threats on the court so things have been relatively calm, and I think I've earned some time off for all the years I worked without it.” The two of you were similar in a lot of ways, how focused you could be on your work and loyal to your duty was one of them. “Rhys has been easier on me too,” he adds.

“Does he know?”

“Since the first night,” Azriel nods, “I tried to hide it but he saw right through me. I haven't told anyone else though.”

You frown softly as his words settle between you, biting your lip softly and hopefully hiding it before he notices. You didn't know how to feel about Azriel having to hide you from his family, having to sneak around whenever he visits you. The way your chest constricted as soon as the words left his mouth told you what the bond felt immediately though. Your eyes drop to your still intertwined hands, the sight making your heart flutter despite your inner turmoil.

A mating bond was an extremely rare and beautiful thing, something you would be proud to tell your friends and family all about, the whole world even, but you can't blame him for not telling them anything when there's no guarantee this will work, when you made it clear from the first day that you didn't think it would work. All he had to do was explain the situation for the expected congratulations and joyous smiles to turn into pity and sympathetic words instead.

“I'm sorry.”

Now it was Azriel's turn to frown, leaning closer to you and squeezing your hand, trying to meet your eyes as you focused on his hand, on the shimmering silver string that kept you eternally bound to each other.

“What are you sorry for?”

“It's my fault you have to hide it.”

“Of course not-”

You cut him off with a shake of your head, tugging on his hand. You were tired of him making excuses for you, of acting like nothing was wrong. If his mate were anyone else, he would have probably at least started dating them regularly by now, might have even already accepted the bond.

“I need you to know,” you look up at him, forcing yourself to keep eye contact with every word even when it becomes too much to bear, “if it weren't for the oath I made and if I could leave the temple, if we could live a normal life, I would accept the bond in a heartbeat.”

You can't quite read the expression that falls over his face, and your nerves are making it impossible to keep a cool head. As the silence stretches on, his hand frozen in yours and his hazel eyes staring right into your soul with unwavering intensity, your heart starts beating extremely loud, pouding at your eardrums as the thought that you said the wrong thing invades your mind.

“Azriel-”

“Can I kiss you?”

“What?”

“Please,” he breathes out, a desperately needy sound coming from deep in his chest. Scarred hands come up to hold your cheeks as he leans down, touching his forehead to yours, hazel eyes closing. “I really want to kiss you.”

You're unsure why he thought you could ever deny him such a request. Leaning in the rest of the way, your lips find his in a soft kiss before you lose your courage. It had been entirely too long since you've felt someone's lips on yours and the fact that it was Azriel, your mate, only made the fire starting inside you burn brighter.

A moan crawls up your throat before you even have a chance to think to keep it down. Azriel swallows it gladly, offering you a deep, satisfied groan of his own as the kiss turns more desperate. All the want you've both tried to keep locked away rising up uninterrupted as teeth and tongues clash, your hands tugging at his soft hair while his fall to your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.

You have no idea how long you're tangled up in each other, the world falling silent while his hands roam your body, but by the time your mind finally clears and you manage to get a grasp on your instincts and on the bond, you find yourself straddling his lap, your dress pushed up to your hips and his shirt half unbuttoned.

Your entire body was glued to him. You could feel every breath he took, the low purring in his chest rumbling against yours, and the evidence of just how much he wanted you pressing against your core. It's as if you had been trying to crawl under his skin, maybe you were, it's not like that would be enough.

Even as you pull apart, chests rising and falling together as you catch your breaths, you don't move away from him, your eyes still closed as you keep your foreheads pressed together. You think it might be impossible to, just the thought makes you want to chain yourself to him, the bond making it difficult to even think at how adamant it is on you keeping your mate as close as possible.

Azriel seems to be of the same mind as he lets out a soft groan, strong arms tightening around you, the sweet pressure pushing an embarrassingly needy and breathy moan past your lips. He leans into your neck, a shiver running through his body as he takes in your scent, the way it deepened with arousal and mixes in with his sending his mind into a frenzy the same way it does yours. If anyone were to walk into this room, they wouldn't be able to tell them apart at all, there wouldn't be any doubts that you were his.

You feel him drop an otherwise chaste kiss to the overheated and sensitive skin of your neck, the way his body tenses at the harsh breath you take in telling you he wanted nothing more than to sink his teeth into it instead. With how out of practice and needy you are at this moment, you think you'd come undone on his lap if he did, the thought sobering you somewhat.

Calling his name softly, surprised by how breathy and undeniably affected your own voice is, you wait for him to gather his own thoughts, abandoning your neck reluctantly, his half-lidded and blown out hazel eyes meeting yours. You know mating bonds are a lot harder to manage for the males so you can't even imagine what is going through his mind, how hard he has to hold himself back from claiming you as his own when you're soaked and pliable on top of him.

Even though you were the one who called his name, you find yourself at a loss for words in the face of his desire. You don't want to tell him to stop and you don't want to move away from him, but you have to, you both know that. And so you kiss him again instead, softly, apologetically.

[gf2bellamy]

home — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader ( no use of y/n ) summary: spencer comes home from a case content warnings: spencer being exhausted , mention of feeling lonely a/n: i truly am in my spencer era all i think abt is him

Spencer pushed open the door to his apartment, the familiar creak of the hinges welcoming him home.

A wave of warmth greeted him, the soft glow of the living room lamp spilling across the space, a contrast to the biting chill of the freezing night outside.

He stepped inside, letting the door shut gently behind him. 

It had been a grueling four days. Four long, restless days on a case that had tested his limits emotionally and mentally.

Four days without sleep, without comfort, and—most importantly—without you.

As Spencer stepped further into the apartment, his eyes landed on you immediately. You were curled up on his couch, your back turned to him, the glow of the television flickering against the walls.

The remote was in your hand as you flipped through channels, not lingering on any one show for long. The volume was high—louder than he usually kept it—and it didn’t seem like you had noticed him yet. 

He smiled to himself, the sight of you there, so at home in his space, filling his chest with warmth. He remembered the time you told him why you always came over when he was out of town. 

“I just feel closer to you here,” you’d confessed once, a little sheepishly. “I know it’s silly, but it makes the time pass faster. Plus…” You’d laughed lightly, though there was a hint of shyness in your voice. “Your apartment feels so... you. It’s comforting.” 

You’d also told him before that the quiet of his apartment felt strange when he wasn’t home, that the noise of the TV helped keep the loneliness at bay.

He set his bag down as quietly as he could, not wanting to startle you just yet.

Instead, he stood there for a moment, taking it all in—the way you were absentmindedly chewing on your lip as you scrolled through the channels, the way the blanket was half-falling off your shoulder, and the faint scent of your perfume lingering in the air.

You yawned loudly, stretching out on the couch before glancing at the watch on your wrist—the one Spencer had given you.

It was a thoughtful gift, something that felt like him in every way. You smiled faintly at the memory of how shy he’d been when he’d handed it to you, murmuring something about how it “reminded him of you”

It had quickly become one of your favorite things.

With a sigh, you let your head fall back against the armrest, your body slowly sinking into the cushions as you sprawled out on the couch.

The warmth of the blanket and the soft hum of the TV were comforting, but the ache of missing Spencer still lingered in your

chest. Four days without him felt like an eternity. 

The sound of soft footsteps made your eyes dart toward the doorway, and you sat up slightly, your heart skipping a beat. For a moment, your mind raced, caught off guard by the shadowy figure stepping into the light.

But as the familiar sight of Spencer came into view, a wave of relief and joy washed over you. 

“Spence,” you breathed, your lips curving into a wide, genuine smile. You stood up quickly, the blanket falling to the floor as you closed the distance between you. Without hesitation, you threw your arms around him, standing on your toes to pull him into a tight hug.

His arms came around you instantly, wrapping you up in his warmth as if he never wanted to let you go. 

“I missed you,” he murmured against your hair, his voice soft.

“I missed you too,” you whispered, burying your face in his neck. 

You let your arms slip from his neck, only to gently cup his face in your hands. His skin was warm under your touch, and your thumbs instinctively brushed along his cheekbones.

“You okay?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper. It was a question you always asked, no matter what, and he always gave the same answer. 

“I’m fine,” Spencer replied, his hazel eyes meeting yours. It was the same response. You could tell he was tired, not just physically but emotionally.

You didn’t push, though. Instead, you smiled gently, giving his face a final tender stroke before grabbing his hand and tugging him toward the couch.

“Come on, genius,” you said playfully, trying to lighten the mood as you pulled him down beside you. 

Spencer sank into the cushions with a sigh, letting the tension melt from his body as he leaned back. But before you could settle into your own spot, his arm wrapped around your waist, gently tugging you closer.

“Stay,” he murmured. 

You shifted toward him, your body curling into his side as you rested your head on his shoulder. For a while, the two of you sat there in silence, the hum of the TV playing in the background.

His fingers absentmindedly traced patterns on your arm, his touch featherlight. 

But then, as if Spencer couldn’t hold himself upright any longer, he shifted, laying down fully on the couch and pulling you with him.

You laughed softly as he guided you to lie beneath him, his long limbs sprawling across the cushions. “Spence,” you said, your tone half-teasing. “You’re crushing me.” 

He propped himself up just slightly, his weight resting more on his forearms as he looked down at you. “I thought you said you missed me,” he teased back, a faint smile tugging at his lips. 

“I did,” you admitted, sliding your hands up to rest on his shoulders. “But I didn’t mean I wanted you to flatten me.” 

Spencer chuckled, the sound low and warm as he shifted his weight again, this time fully relaxing against you but keeping enough of it off so you could still breathe.

His head rested on your chest now, his curls brushing against your chin. 

“You’re comfortable,” he murmured, his voice muffled slightly as he nuzzled closer. 

A soft laugh escaped you as your fingers found their way into his hair, your nails lightly grazing his scalp.

“Well, you’re lucky I don’t mind being your human pillow,” you said with a grin, threading your fingers through his curls. 

Spencer sighed, his whole body melting into yours. “I could stay like this forever,” he mumbled, his voice soft and drowsy. 

You smiled down at him, watching as his eyes fluttered shut.

“Good,” you whispered, continuing to run your fingers through his hair. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

[rooksamoris]

💞 — 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐄𝐍'𝐒 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒, 𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐄.

💞 — in which vil invites a vampire hunter to live in your castle as a guard. this hunter seems to enjoy pressing your buttons quite a bit.

💞 — vampire!vil schoenheit x vampire!reader x vampire hunter!rook hunt (implied poly)

💞 — warnings: SUGGESTIVE!! nothing crazy, but it is suggestive, hopefully in the gothic romantic sort of way. obvi, blood, mentions of gore. rook says "bon appetit" at some point. vil and reader are "married" but in the eternal partners thanks to immortality sort of way

💞 — 2.2k words. HAPPY LATE BIRTHDAY @v-anrouge!!! when i was wondering what i should write, i remembered you were the one who gave me the thought of vampire hunter!rook which has completely haunted me since. i wish you a million more happy days <33 think imma do a whole au tagged as "𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐌𝐄." bc wow i miss vampire stories

Vil could not have been serious about this.

You looked at him in disbelief as he sat at the luxurious table. He ignored your look of disbelief and continued to sip from his wine glass, the rid liquid sloshing to and fro. Any idiot would assume it was just wine or fruit cordial, but no, this was a bit too thick to be either. Your eyes then darted to the smiling blonde bowing at the both of you. That bastard hunter that you and your kind were constantly trying to get away from. He was grinning without a care as if he was not in the presence of one of the most feared vampires in all of the Twisted Wonderland. 

“You don’t look too pleased to see me, mon vampire,” he said, tilting his head to the side, smile ever present.

It took everything in you not to scrunch your nose, “What vampire would be pleased at the sight of a hunter?” you retorted, before looking back at Vil. You assumed he was bluffing when he told you he would employ a vampire hunter to keep watch over the castle. You knew why he did it—all that power came with enemies and artifacts that all manner of magical creatures wanted to steal for themselves. But come on, you hoped he would settle for a protective spell.

Vil finally sighed, “He won’t harm you, or me if he knows what’s best for him.”

“Oh, Roi du Poison, no need for worries. I could never dream of tarnishing such beauty,” he replied, standing straight again. Despite that smile of his, there was something sinister beneath it all. He was hiding something, that much was clear.

“Vil, darling, you can’t be serious—”

All the vampire did was stand and make his way over to you, standing behind your seat and placing one of his hands onto your shoulders, and then he used the other to cup your chin so that you were glancing over at him, “Stress ages the skin. Relax your brows,” he told you. Your immortality would keep you from aging just fine, yet he still insisted that you follow these human regiments with him.

After a moment, you sighed, letting your shoulders drop before sending a half-hearted glare at the hunter, “Fine,” 

“Good,” Vil moved away from you and to the blonde hunter, his hand quickly grasping his jaw, “And you,”

“Yes?” Rook asked, practically beaming over the fact that the poisonous vampire himself was touching him. He could barely keep himself from reaching out and embracing the vampire.

Before this, he had just been admiring you and your spouse. All of this was like something from one of his dreams. Here he was, in that gothic castle which he had only seen in paintings, with the famed vampires hiding in it. Rook could not wait till he was free to explore the place and uncover the magical secrets that were hidden there. Perhaps he would even get the chance to collect skeletons from the closets.

Your glares were exhilarating and Vil’s touch was just… arousing. This was the type of opportunity he would kill for. He probably did kill for it, no one could know when it came to him.

Vil’s lavender eyes traced over the hunter’s face, before narrowing in on his eyes, “You will be on your best behavior, yes?”

Rook nodded, placing a hand on his chest, “Of course, my queen.”

“Darling, quit your pouting already,” Vil said, glancing at you through the mirror as you tended to his hair. He never let anyone tend to his beauty process, but you. Who would not trust their eternal lover? He began to rub a serum into his skin, “I know you’re not happy, but you’re a vampire, not a toddler.”

You nearly tugged his hair at that, “You know how I feel about vampire hunters,” you told him, “And him? Of all the hunters to bring into our home, you have to bring the one with the most kills under his belt—if he tries anything, I’ll… I—”

“We’ll both feed off of him. Don’t worry,” he said, cutting you off as he turned around to face you. One of his hands reached for the brush and he set it at the vanity behind him while gazing up at you. His hands cupped your hips and forced you closer, “You worry too much. If he messes up, he’ll make for a great meal.”

His hands trailed up and down—hips, to thighs, hips, to waist—he had done this thousands of times before, “You’ve heard of his skill, his strength. A man with such endurance must have plenty of blood… all that running and fighting he does has to show in the health of his arteries. I’ll even let you use those fancy chalices you like,”

Oh, Sevens. He was so attractive when he went into his informative tangents.

A blush covered your cheeks and your hands reached to grab onto his shoulders so that you could balance yourself. Centuries later he still managed to make you blush like a rose. He claimed you were his spouse, but sometimes you felt more like a devout worshipper. His body was the shrine you bowed to, your love was the offerings you held out to him.

“I just ask that you play nice,” he said, his hand drifting from your hip, up to your cheek. A smirk came to his lips as he tugged your face towards him. He smirked when your eyes trailed over to his mouth, “You can do that, right?” 

All you could do was nod in response.

“Good,” And finally, he gave in and kissed you, teasingly dragging his fangs along your bottom lip. Vil knew how much you loved when he did that, he could feel it in the little shift you did as he held you close. He pulled away after a moment, just to let his hands dip down to the back of your legs and pull you into his lap, “Now, let me take care of you.”

Living in the castle with Rook was strange, but not completely horrible. He had so much to satisfy his curiosity, so most days you did not see him unless you were in places that he was monitoring. You caught him a few times in the secret tunnels beneath the castle, and the various hiding places that no one knew about.

He tried to get into your good graces with his… strange shows of affection. Last night, when he was walking you home from the opera, he told you how much he wished you would let your rage control so that you would sink your teeth into his pale freckled skin.

Strange, and yet your mind drifted back to the thought of it. Letting go of your control and pouncing onto the hunter, tearing the collar of his shirt, piercing that pretty skin of his. You forced the thoughts out of your mind when you began to imagine what his gasps and whimpers may have sounded like.

Vil seemed to be much more quick to let up when it came to Rook. He did not think the green-eyed hunter was a threat and just let him share his amorous and romantic poetry. At the dinner table, he would laud you and your Queen, comparing himself to the knights of yore, bound to protect and never to touch—and Vil did not interrupt him once. He looked pleased, instead, amused even.

Even more absurd was when Vil began letting Rook help him out with his clothes or his makeup. That had truly caught you off-guard, but you still did not seem to let up on your suspicions. He was just so unsettling sometimes, despite his sweet moments. You worried he would turn around and set a trap for you, or worse, for Vil. 

Vil could take care of himself, but you loved him too much to not worry.

“Ah, mon vampire!” 

You turned around when the hunter suddenly called out for you. Of course, he just happened to be in the gardens at the same time as you, “Rook,” you muttered, “Do you never sleep?”

He quickly took his spot at your side, his hand drifting to hover around the small of your back, “Now why would I tell a predator like you when I am most vulnerable?” he asked, this thumb sliding over your spine a bit. His green eyes looked a little more threatening for a moment, “That would make me a poor hunter, non?”

That look in his eyes made you shiver.

“I suppose you are right about that.” 

You were sure you could take him on in a fight, but you also wished Vil was out here too. Rook always seemed a little more behaved in the presence of Vil, since he was more of a threat than you were—or perhaps Rook just enjoyed toying with you more. When the two of you were alone, Rook seemed more like the bloodthirsty creature, except he thirsted for your ire. He was just begging to be your meal with the way he acted.

His touch grew firm, “Looking for an escape?” he asked, raising a brow, smiling at you. He looked quite pleased with himself.

“No,” you retorted, a little blush coloring your cheeks, “That’s what you should be doing.”

Rook laughed at that and his hand moved off your back and to your hand instead. Gently, he tugged you with him deeper into the gardens, “I would never want to escape from you. No matter how vicious you became,” he told you, affectionately.

You scoffed, “I don’t believe that for a minute,”

“You don’t?”

“Of course not. You’d run with your tail between your legs just as the other mortals do.”

He tugged you a bit harder once he came to a stop, forcing you to fall against him. The blonde nearly shivered as your hands met his chest to steady yourself, “Mon vampire,” he whispered, “You and I both know I would never run from those gorgeous fangs of yours,” he said as his free hand cupped your jaw.

The foolish hunter was guiding your face toward his pale neck. A soft growl came from the back of your throat, “Stupid hunter,” you muttered. That familiar bloodlust began to seep from your every pore.

“Go on,” he cooed, “bon appétit.”

You decided to give in—his blood just smelled too good. You brushed his blonde hair behind his ear before slipping a hand behind his neck to force him closer to you, causing him to place his hands on either side of your head, against one of the pillars in the gardens.

Fangs glittered beneath the night sky like swords on the battlefield, his neck was your enemy. All you wanted to do was suck him dry, and end that dull beating you could hear where his blood was rushing. Vil had told you athletic people carried more blood. He shivered as your tongue swiped against his neck.

“Ah—wetting my neck to make it easier? You are just so—”

Before he could finish with his teasing, you quickly and violently sunk your fangs into his neck, humming in satisfaction as his blood hit your tongue. His body tensed up for a moment and then he relaxed, leaning his body against you, pinning you to the pillar. He gasped a bit at your harsh sucking, but never once did his protest.

Instead, his fingers tenderly carded through your hair, “Mmm… Tu es merveilleux.”

You could not even bring yourself to pull away and reply to his compliments, instead opting to dig your fangs in even deeper. The blood began to drip down your chin, Vil would scold you for that, but you did not care. His blood was delicious.

“What have I told you about getting blood on your clothes when you’re feeding?”

Speak of the devil—erm, vampire.

Quickly, you pulled away from Rook’s neck and you were just about to wipe your face on your sleeve, until you felt Vil’s sharp glare and Rook’s hand grasp your arm in time. 

The hunter gave you a teasing smile, before turning his attention to Vil.

There was a frown on Vil’s face, “I can’t believe you managed to make such a mess in the five minutes that I have left you alone.”

“Merci, I do my best.”

“It wasn’t a compliment. Look what you have done to mein schätzelein,” he scolded, as he took out a handkerchief to wipe up your mouth for you. His attention was now on gently wiping away the blood that dripped down to your chin and onto your chest. He patted it down, careful not to rub too hard. A brief look of hunger flashed in his eyes as he wiped the blood. He nearly bent down to lick it off of you instead. “Such a mess... and I thought we promised we’d feed on him together? Greed is not a pretty look for you.”

The flush on your cheeks brightened, much to both of their amusement.

“Don’t scold them, Roi du Poison. It was my fault. I was teasing too much,” Rook interrupted before you could speak. One of his hands trailed down your back, while the other slipped around Vil’s waist, “But since you’re here now, you can have a taste as well.”

Vil rolled his eyes, “I am much better at controlling myself,”

That was a lie. His eyes kept drifting between the pierce marks on Rook’s neck and the little bit of blood stuck on the corner of your lips.

©rooksamoris 2024. do not steal or translate my work!

support me on ko-fi!

[ludwigplayingthetrombone]

Finally finished the first part of gai’s 8 gates coma and how kakashi dealt with it rewrite people have been requesting. [tw blood, injury, coma, death discussions, grief]

Kurenai: Kakashi Kks: Ah. Kurenai and...baby, what’s up? Kurenai: You mind if I come in a moment? Kks: Uhhhhh I-

Kks: So what did you need to speak about? Did something happen? K: No, Nothing’s happened. You haven’t gotten to properly see and bond with her yet. Here Kks: You know I’m not fond of kids. K: That’s why I didn’t ask. Hold your arms out. Ok, now, don’t look absolutely petrified.

Kks: She’s ok, I guess [YELP] Oi! Don’t pinch me while I’m holding your baby! K: You wouldn’t drop her. Asuma would haunt you forever! Kks: Terrifying thought, Mirai.... How are you feeling? K: Exhausted. Do you really want to hear how horrifying having a baby is? Kks: No, please don’t tell me.

K: I came over to check on you as well. Any news? Kks: No. He’s still the same. K: Is that why it looks like this in here? Kks: ...Yeah. Doctor said he may never wake up. Since we’re eachother’s medical contacts, Tsunade told me I had to prepare to make hard decisions should it come to that.

Kks: With the council breathing down my neck over a job I don’t want, I had... A bit of an outburst. K: I don’t even blame you. That’s... That they expect you to carry on like normal. Still grieving. The person you love most is gone. But you’re still here. Don’t let them just dust you off and move on again. I’ll always have your back. Kks: You and Asuma always did. Even when I wasn’t grateful for it.

Kks: I can’t tell if they just don’t care or didn’t realize, Gai’s the one who held me together all these years. Only reason I’m still here at all is because of him. I don’t think tenzou, the elders, or the village are prepared for what’ll become of me if I lose him. So, I don’t care anymore. Let them be mad. I won’t give up on him. K: You should talk to him. Kks: huh K: Talk about anything! I’m sure the sound of your voice will help him find his way back. Especially if you sound sad, Kks: uuh

K: I can hear it now, “My eternal rival is sad? Not on my watch!“ Kks: Pretty accurate impression. K: There’s been lots of source material! Kks: Maaa, Your mom’s a huge dork K: Oi! [kakashi chuckles]

K: He’ll be so upset he missed her birth Kks: Oh, devastated. I can’t wait to see the look on Gai’s face, Mirai, when I tell him /I/ held you first! When he wakes up

Kks: Hey, Gai. Kurenai said i should talk to you.

Kks: Feels weird. Most of the people I’m used to talking to like this are all... Dead.

It’s so eerie how silent you’ve been for so long. you’re not even this quiet when you sleep. Your kids come everyday to see you. Naruto and sakura when they can. Lots of others. I’ve been telling them embarrassing  stories from when we were kids since you keep making them wait. Do you remember when I came over while you and Dai were making supper

Dai: Kakashi! Good to see you, my boy! Kks: Id Gai home? Dai: He’s helping with supper! Go on, inside, you’re always welcome! Kks: Ok Dai: Atta boy Kks: Hey, G- !? ummm? Gai: OH!! Rival!! Kks:  Is that a lid?! Gai: Correct!! It stops me from crying while cutting onions! A win for me!!

Kks: Against.... the onions? Gai: Yep! KKs:[snicker] Gai: Laugh all you want! Not everyone can comprehend innovation. Kks: Whatever. You forgot this at the training grounds. I know it’s yours there’s a turtle on it. Gai: See! You’re already tearing up! Kks: Am not Gai: Also, thankyou so much! Kks: Bye, I’m leaving. Gai: Could it be? You’re scared I can cut much faster than you! Kks: I am not scared. Gai: Good, I think we have another lid! Kks: YOU-!

Dai: Great to see growing boys with such a hunger! I’ll never have to prep onions again! Kks: I think about that everytime I chop onions now. You’ve altered my brain with all the ridiculous things you’ve done. Can’t even look at the toys you’ve gotten the dogs without getting emotional

Kks: Just knowing you’re here still, I can barely function. It’s pretty pathetic... Your hair’s getting long. Turning into your dad.

[gai’s heartbeat] Kks: Gai

[gais heartbeat continues]

[gai’s heartbeat continues] Kks: If anything should happen to me, you’ll rush over, right? Gai: Damn right, I will. Dont you worry about that.

[Gai’s heartbeat]

Kks: I miss you

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

This is my first time requesting a fic so I hope I'm doing it right! I have this cute idea for a hazbin hotel fic that could honestly go for anyone!(Id prefer Lucifer, alastor or vox tho!)

Something where the reader's sin was killing a goldfish, hamster or something small as a small child without knowing any better and that's why they are sent to hell. It takes forever for the reader to remember that it happened and realize that's the only thing they could be in hell for and brings back a bunch of guilt. Whoever it's with is like- really pissed at heaven for counting that as a sin because the reader is literally the sweetest person anyone knows and was just a kid and either comforts them or tries to do something about it??

A/N: I loved this so I decided to write this for all three of them!! I just loved this so much so I felt like it needed all of them if that makes sense. I hope you enjoy and I loved this concept so thank you so much for your request!! happy reading!!

Navigation!! // Masterlist!!

Alastor aka RADIO DEMON

The realization hit you like a punch to the gut—an old memory, long buried and forgotten, resurfacing with a sharp pang of guilt. You had been in Hell for what felt like an eternity, surrounded by the damned and the wicked, but you had never been able to recall what sin had condemned you to this place. You weren’t like the others. You didn’t have a trail of victims or a past stained with blood. You were kind, gentle, always trying to do right by others. And yet, here you were, trapped in this eternal torment.

The memory came back slowly, piece by piece, until it all fell into place. You had been so young, just a child, maybe four or five years old. The goldfish had been a gift from your parents, a small, delicate thing that had fascinated you. You’d watched it swim in its little bowl, entranced by its shimmering scales and the way it moved through the water with such grace.

But you were a child, curious and clumsy, and you didn’t understand the fragility of life. You remembered reaching into the bowl, wanting to hold the fish, to feel its smooth scales against your skin. But when you pulled it out of the water, it had flopped in your hands, struggling for breath. You didn’t understand what was happening, didn’t realize that you were hurting it. By the time you’d put it back in the water, it was too late. The fish had floated to the surface, still and lifeless.

You’d cried, of course, but you hadn’t understood the gravity of what you’d done. You were just a child. But now, as you stood in the depths of Hell, that memory filled you with a crushing guilt. Was that it? Was that the reason you had been sent here? For something so small, so innocent, done out of ignorance and childish curiosity?

As the weight of the memory settled on you, you felt a presence behind you. The air grew thick with a sense of unease, and you knew without turning around that Alastor, the Radio Demon, was there. He had taken an interest in you from the moment you arrived in Hell, though you could never quite figure out why. Maybe it was your innocence, your kindness, that intrigued him—qualities so rare in this place.

“Ah, my dear,” Alastor’s voice purred, smooth and dripping with a dark amusement. “What is it that troubles you? You look positively distraught.”

You turned to face him, your eyes wide and filled with a deep sorrow. “I remember… I remember why I’m here,” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion.

Alastor raised an eyebrow, his smile never faltering but his crimson eyes narrowing slightly with curiosity. “Oh? And what, pray tell, is this dreadful sin that has condemned such a sweet, innocent soul to Hell?”

You hesitated, the words sticking in your throat. It seemed so ridiculous, so absurd now that you were about to say it out loud. But the guilt gnawed at you, and you couldn’t keep it in any longer. “When I was a child… I… I killed a goldfish,” you admitted, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t understand. But it died because of me.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then, Alastor let out a soft, almost incredulous laugh. It wasn’t the cruel, mocking laugh you had expected, but something tinged with disbelief and anger—not at you, but at the situation.

“Is that it?” he asked, his tone sharp and incredulous. “That’s why you’re here? Because of some childhood mistake? A simple, innocent act of curiosity?”

You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes. “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t know… but that’s the only thing I can think of. That has to be it.”

Alastor’s expression darkened, his usually jovial demeanor replaced by a cold, simmering anger. “Heaven,” he spat, the word laced with venom. “What hypocrites. To send a child to Hell for something so trivial, so insignificant, is beyond cruel. It’s unjust.”

You looked at him, surprised by the intensity of his reaction. “But… but it was still wrong,” you said softly, the guilt still gnawing at you. “I took a life, even if it was just a goldfish. Maybe I deserve to be here.”

Alastor shook his head, his eyes flashing with a dangerous light. “No, my dear, you do not deserve this. You were just a child, and children are not held accountable for their innocent mistakes. You were condemned unfairly, and it infuriates me to see someone as pure as you suffer because of it.”

He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to gently tilt your chin up so that you were looking into his eyes. “Listen to me,” he said, his voice low and firm. “You are not like the others here. You do not belong in this wretched place. If I could, I would march up to Heaven myself and demand that they right this wrong, that they acknowledge the cruelty of their judgment.”

You stared at him, shocked by the passion in his voice, the anger in his eyes. You had always seen Alastor as a being of pure malice, a demon who took pleasure in the suffering of others. But now, in this moment, he was different. He was angry for you, on your behalf, and it stirred something deep within you.

“Alastor…” you whispered, your voice breaking.

He sighed, his expression softening slightly as he looked at you. “But alas, there is little I can do to change your fate. The rules of Heaven and Hell are not easily bent, even by one as powerful as I. However,” he added, his voice taking on a softer, almost tender tone, “I can offer you something else. Comfort, companionship… protection. You may be in Hell, my dear, but I will not allow you to suffer alone.”

The offer took you by surprise, and you found yourself staring up at him, unsure of what to say. Alastor, the Radio Demon, offering comfort and companionship? It seemed almost too surreal to believe. And yet, there was something in his eyes, something genuine that made you believe he meant every word.

You nodded slowly, a tear slipping down your cheek. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “I… I don’t know what to say.”

Alastor smiled, a smile that was still tinged with that ever-present darkness, but also with something warmer, something almost… kind. “You don’t need to say anything, my dear. Just know that you are not alone. Not anymore.”

With that, he pulled you into an embrace, his arms surprisingly gentle as they wrapped around you. You leaned into him, the weight of your guilt and sorrow easing just a little as you allowed yourself to be comforted. It wasn’t much, but it was enough—for now. And maybe, just maybe, with Alastor by your side, you could find a way to live with the past and the unjust fate that had brought you here.

Vox aka HEAD OF VOX TECH

You had never really understood why you were condemned to Hell. Unlike the many souls writhing in the pit, you didn’t have a string of atrocities trailing behind you. You didn’t murder, cheat, or betray. In fact, in your mortal life, you were known for being kind, caring, and overly cautious. And yet, here you were, suffering in Hell without a clue as to what had brought you here.

At first, you tried to remember, to piece together what might have happened, but every time you searched your memories, you came up empty. The only thing that ever came to mind was a stupid, childish incident—one that surely couldn’t be the reason for your damnation.

You’d been about eight years old, with a love for all things small and furry. That’s when you got your first pet, a little hamster you named Buttons. You adored Buttons, carrying him around in your hands, giving him treats, and petting his soft fur. But one day, while playing, you squeezed him a little too hard. You hadn’t meant to. You were just a child, after all, but that didn’t change what happened. Buttons stopped moving, his little body going limp in your hands. You cried for hours, not understanding what you had done, only knowing that your beloved pet was gone and that you were to blame.

You’d buried the memory, convincing yourself it was just a mistake, a tragic accident that any child might have made. But here, in Hell, it was the only thing you could think of. Could that really be it? Could you really have been damned for something so small, so innocent?

It was a thought that haunted you, gnawed at your insides until you couldn’t take it anymore. You found yourself wandering through the dark, twisted corridors of Hell, your mind lost in a storm of guilt and confusion. That’s when you felt it—eyes on you, watching, observing. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

Vox had taken an interest in you almost immediately after your arrival in Hell. It wasn’t unusual for him to be intrigued by someone new, but there was something about you that kept pulling him back. You were different from the others—gentle, kind, and most of all, innocent. That kind of innocence was a rare commodity in Hell, and Vox was drawn to it like a moth to a flame.

“Lost in thought again, aren’t we?” Vox’s voice crackled through the air, distorted slightly by the static that always seemed to surround him.

You froze, your heart skipping a beat at the sound of his voice. It wasn’t that you were afraid of him, exactly, but Vox was intimidating in a way that words couldn’t quite capture. He was larger than life, a presence that seemed to fill the room, even when he wasn’t physically there.

“I…” you started, your voice trembling slightly as you turned to face him. “I just can’t stop thinking about it. About why I’m here. I can’t remember doing anything that would deserve… this.”

Vox’s neon-lit face twisted into a smirk, though there was something darker lurking behind his glowing eyes. He tilted his head, his massive form leaning casually against a nearby wall as he continued to watch you. “You’re in Hell, darling. Everyone’s here for a reason.”

You swallowed hard, your mind racing as you tried to find the words to explain. “But that’s just it. I don’t have a reason. At least, not one that makes sense. The only thing I can think of… it’s ridiculous.”

Vox’s eyes narrowed slightly, his curiosity piqued. “Oh? Do tell. I’m all ears.”

You hesitated, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment as you forced yourself to speak. “When I was a kid… I had a hamster. I didn’t mean to hurt him, but I squeezed him too hard, and… and he died.” Your voice cracked as the memory resurfaced, filling you with a wave of guilt and shame. “That’s the only thing I can think of. I was just a kid, but what if that’s why I’m here? What if that’s what sent me to Hell?”

For a moment, Vox was silent, his glowing eyes fixed on you as if he were trying to process what you’d just said. Then, he let out a harsh, distorted laugh, his voice crackling with a mix of amusement and anger. “That’s it? That’s what you think got you sent to Hell? A childhood mistake? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

You flinched at his laughter, feeling small and foolish under his gaze. “I know it sounds stupid,” you mumbled, looking down at the ground. “But I can’t think of anything else. Maybe Heaven saw it as some kind of cruelty or—”

“Bullshit,” Vox cut you off, his voice sharp and electric. He pushed off the wall, striding over to you with an intensity that made your heart race. “That’s not cruelty. That’s a mistake. A kid not knowing any better. If that’s really why you’re here, then Heaven is more fucked up than I thought.”

You looked up at him, surprise flickering in your eyes. You’d never heard him speak like this before—so angry, so protective. “But… what if that’s all it takes?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper. “What if that’s enough to damn someone?”

Vox’s eyes blazed with a fierce light, his hand reaching out to grab your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Listen to me, sweetheart,” he growled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. “You don’t belong here. You’re not like the rest of these damned souls. You’re… different. Innocent. And if some bullshit technicality is what sent you here, then Heaven’s got a lot to answer for.”

You stared up at him, your heart pounding in your chest as his words sank in. He was right—deep down, you knew he was right. You didn’t belong in Hell. But the guilt, the overwhelming sense of responsibility for that long-ago mistake, was hard to shake.

“I don’t know what to do,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “I can’t change the past, and I can’t go back. I’m stuck here, no matter what.”

Vox’s grip on your chin softened, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek. “Maybe you can’t go back, but that doesn’t mean you have to suffer for it. You’re in Hell, yeah, but that doesn’t mean you have to be miserable. You’ve got me, don’t you?” His voice dropped to a lower, almost seductive tone as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “I’ll take care of you, sweetheart. I’ll make sure this place doesn’t break you.”

A shiver ran down your spine at his words, his proximity making your head spin. Despite the fearsome reputation he had, there was something about the way he spoke, the way he looked at you, that made you feel… safe. Like he really meant it when he said he would protect you.

“But what about Heaven?” you asked, your voice small and unsure. “What if they’re watching? What if they… try to punish me again?”

Vox’s eyes flashed with anger, his grip on you tightening slightly. “Let them try,” he hissed, his voice dripping with venom. “I’d like to see them come down here and explain themselves. If Heaven wants to play dirty, they’ll have to go through me first.”

You stared at him, stunned by the intensity of his words. No one had ever stood up for you like this before, especially not against something as powerful as Heaven itself. It was overwhelming, and yet… comforting. Maybe you couldn’t change the past, but with Vox by your side, maybe you could find a way to live with it.

Slowly, you nodded, a small, tentative smile forming on your lips. “Thank you, Vox. I… I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Vox’s expression softened, his hand moving to cup your cheek as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your forehead in a surprisingly tender gesture. “You don’t have to worry about that, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me now.”

As you closed your eyes, leaning into his touch, you felt a sense of relief wash over you. The guilt was still there, but it was tempered by the knowledge that you weren’t alone. Vox was with you, and he was determined to protect you, no matter what. Maybe Hell wasn’t where you belonged, but as long as you had him by your side, you knew you’d find a way to make it through.

Lucifer aka THE KING OF HELL

You sat in Lucifer’s grand office, your fingers anxiously twisting in your lap as your thoughts swirled in confusion. You had been in Hell for a while now, and yet the reason for your damnation still eluded you. It was maddening, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t pinpoint the sin that had condemned you to this fiery realm.

Lucifer watched you closely from behind his lavish desk, his sharp eyes catching every slight movement you made. He had always found you to be an enigma—so sweet, so innocent, and yet, here you were in the depths of Hell. It didn’t make sense, and that bothered him more than he cared to admit.

“Love,” Lucifer’s voice was smooth, like silk brushing against your skin, “I can practically hear the gears turning in that pretty head of yours. What troubles you so?”

You glanced up at him, your eyes reflecting the turmoil within. “I just don’t understand, Lucifer. I’ve been thinking and thinking, and I still can’t figure out what I did to end up here. It’s like… it doesn’t add up.”

Lucifer leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers as he studied you. “Not all sins are remembered easily,” he mused, his tone contemplative. “Some are buried deep within, forgotten or dismissed, but still weighed heavily by those who pass judgment.”

“But that’s just it,” you insisted, your voice trembling slightly. “I’ve searched through every memory, every mistake, and nothing seems big enough, bad enough, to have damned me. I was never… evil. At least, I don’t think I was.”

A slight frown tugged at Lucifer’s lips, a rare expression of displeasure crossing his usually calm demeanor. “Tell me, my love, what are the memories that you have found? The ones you believe to be insignificant?”

You hesitated, biting your lip as you gathered the courage to speak. “There’s this one thing… I was just a kid. I didn’t know any better. I had a best friend, and we were inseparable. But one day, I got jealous—stupid, childish jealousy—and I told a lie that got them in trouble. They were punished for something they didn’t do, and I never confessed. I was too scared.”

Lucifer’s gaze softened slightly as he listened, though his eyes gleamed with something darker—resentment, perhaps, but not directed at you. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk as he fixed you with an intense stare. “And you believe that is the reason you’re here? A child’s lie?”

You nodded slowly, your heart heavy with guilt. “I know it doesn’t seem like much, but… what if that’s it? What if that’s the one thing that damned me?”

A low chuckle escaped Lucifer, his voice rich with amusement, though there was an underlying edge to it. “My love, if Heaven condemns souls to Hell for such trivialities, then they are more twisted than even I had thought.” His smile turned cold, a bitterness seeping into his tone. “It seems they are as quick to punish as they are to pretend their hands are clean.”

You looked at him, confusion and a flicker of hope warring within you. “But… what if they’re right? What if that lie was enough?”

Lucifer stood, his presence towering over you as he moved around the desk to stand by your side. He reached out, gently lifting your chin so that you were forced to look up at him. His touch was surprisingly tender, a stark contrast to the power and authority he radiated.

“They are not right,” he said firmly, his eyes boring into yours. “You were a child. A child who made a mistake. That is not evil, nor is it worthy of damnation. You do not belong here for something so minor, so human.”

His words washed over you like a balm, easing the knot of anxiety that had taken root in your chest. “Then why am I here?” you whispered, your voice filled with desperation. “What could I have done?”

Lucifer’s expression softened, and he let out a sigh, his hand moving to cup your cheek. “The truth, my love, is that sometimes the reasons for being here are not fair. Sometimes, they are born of Heaven’s need to appear just, even when they are far from it. You may be here because of a mistake, but that does not mean you deserve to suffer.”

You leaned into his touch, finding comfort in his words, even as they stirred a deep sadness within you. “It doesn’t feel fair,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I feel like I’ve been punished for something I didn’t even understand.”

Lucifer’s eyes flashed with anger, though it was clear his ire was not directed at you. “It is not fair,” he agreed, his tone laced with resentment. “Heaven is quick to cast out those who do not fit their mold, regardless of whether they deserve it. They hide behind their righteousness, but in truth, they are no less flawed than the souls they condemn.”

You looked up at him, your heart aching at the pain and anger in his voice. “You… you sound like you’ve experienced this before. Like you’ve seen how unfair it can be.”

Lucifer’s gaze darkened, his lips curling into a bitter smile. “I have seen it many times, love. More than you can imagine. Heaven is not the paradise they would have you believe. It is a place of judgment, of exclusion, and for those who do not conform, it is a place of damnation.”

He paused, his hand moving to cradle the back of your head as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin. “But you do not have to face this alone. You have me, and I will ensure that Hell is not the torment they intended for you. You will find peace here, with me.”

Your breath hitched as his words sunk in, the weight of your situation lightening just a little under his promise. “Thank you, Lucifer,” you murmured, your voice trembling with emotion. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Lucifer’s expression softened further, and for a moment, the cold, calculating ruler of Hell was replaced by someone almost… human. “You will never have to find out,” he whispered, his voice tender as he closed the distance between you, his lips brushing gently against yours.

The kiss was soft, almost hesitant, as if he were afraid of breaking you with the intensity of his emotions. But there was a warmth there, a reassurance that you weren’t alone, that you were safe with him. As he pulled back, his eyes met yours, and you could see the depth of his feelings—his resentment toward Heaven, his protectiveness over you, and something else, something deeper that he kept hidden behind his regal facade.

“Rest now, my love,” Lucifer murmured, his hand lingering on your cheek as he straightened up. “You have been through enough. Let me shoulder the burden of your past. You belong here with me, and I will not allow Heaven’s judgment to take you from me.”

You nodded, a sense of calm settling over you as you allowed yourself to trust in his words. For the first time since you arrived in Hell, you felt like you weren’t alone, like you had someone who truly understood the injustice of your situation. And as you looked up at Lucifer, you knew that, despite everything, you were exactly where you were meant to be.

[cobaltperun]

Eternal Flame (2) - Those Eyes

Jenna Ortega x Female Reader

Summary: For her it’s a passion, for you it’s an accident. And as she continues shining brighter and brighter with each role you are left mesmerized, drawn to her flame and cherishing every time she lets herself be vulnerable with you.

Spotify playlist

Masterlist / First Part / Next Part

Word count: 6.1k

-I close my eyes and all I see is you and the small things you do-

Jenna couldn’t remember the last time she’s gotten this excited. Soon she’d turn eighteen, she was about to start filming Scream, meet several legends in person, work with people that already seemed like they were absolutely amazing, and, well, work with you. She walked into the hotel late at night, past ten o’clock, meaning she missed dinner, but she was excited nonetheless, barely feeling the hunger after hours of traveling.

“Hi, I’m sorry I’m checking in this late,” she gave her ID to the receptionist.

“Don’t worry about it, thank you for choosing our hotel,” the receptionist smiled politely, the entire cast basically booking the hotel was going to be profitable for it.

“Say, could you tell me where some of the others are? Which rooms I mean?” Jenna asked with a bit of a shy smile on her face.

He raised an eyebrow, and she knew she could just send a message, so yeah, in hindsight it probably didn’t make her seem like the smartest person around. “Sure,” he checked the papers and pulled out a map of the floor she was on. “You’re between Melissa and Mikey, and Jack and Dylan are also on your side of the floor. Mason, Y/N, Jasmin and Sonia are on the other side of the floor, Neve, Courtney and David are on the floor above you,” he told her and pointed at each room as he said the names. Room 23, she smiled but quickly reigned it in. The two of you have been texting on and off these past few weeks, and Jenna definitely felt the connection between you. It’s been so long since she made a friend close to her own age, and it really felt like the two of you were heading in that direction.

“Thank you,” she said and took key to her room, thankful that her stuff arrived before she did, so it was already waiting for her in her room. She went up the stairs to her room but just as she was about to unlock it she looked down the hall and changed her mind, heading right for your room first.

The number 23 on the door seemed almost intimidating for a moment, after all, she didn’t even send you a message to ask if you wanted to hang out. Still, she remembered all the texts you exchanged, the time you spent hanging out, eating lunch and dinner at the same place and then walking through the park and sitting on a bench, watching the sky. There was nothing to worry about. Nothing at all, so, she knocked and took one step back, waiting for you to open the doors.

And you did, you opened the doors dressed in sweatpants and light gray T-shirt. “Hey,” she smiled, stepping closer to you. “Sorry for dropping by unannounced,” she apologized and readily accepted it when you just pulled her in for a hug. It felt warm, welcoming, and Jenna felt herself sinking into that feeling.

“I’m glad you did,” you whispered as you pulled back and smiled brightly at her. There was nothing in your body language, not a single hint that you were annoyed, or that she interrupted you. She could only see genuine happiness to see her in your eyes, in the way your touch lingered, and how openly you moved to invite her in. “Come on, I’m sure you’re hungry,” your words took her by surprise.

A bit of her should have felt guilty, because in a way it made it sound like she just came to eat, but the promise of a meal instead of going to bed hungry made any guilt she could have felt disappear for the moment. “Sure, but how did you know?” she asked as you led her into your room and Jenna found herself looking around, especially since she didn’t get to see her own room. The room was simple, offering basic furniture, and each came with its own bathroom, it looked comfortable, and she noticed the final script lying on the table.

“Just a guess. I sent you a message a while ago to see if you were hungry,” you said and turned the stove on. Jenna felt heat rushing to her cheeks, she once again neglected her phone. She should probably send a message to her family. For now, she looked at you moving around the hotel room. From the looks of it the rooms came with small kitchen, enough for someone to make a simple meal, or heat up the leftovers, just so they wouldn’t have to go to the kitchen. Sometimes they could make meals themselves and sometime the hotel staff would take care of it, that was the deal from what Jenna heard. She was brought out of her thoughts by the smell that made her mouth water as you placed a small pot filled with rice pilaf with green peas and corn, and you must have added something else to it because it smelled incredible.

“Oh, I’m definitely hungry,” she said, and as if on cue her stomach confirmed her hunger and the two of you laughed. “Join me?” she asked as you heat up the pilaf, she grew up in a large family, often worked with a lot of people that usually had meals together at a designated large area, and she found that she hated eating alone, no matter how often it happened between projects.

“I guess I could,” you agreed, much to Jenna’s relief. “Could you set the table? There’s a few plates and utensils in the cupboard to my left,” you told her and it was just another reason Jenna felt comfortable around you. When she was with you it didn’t matter that she was an actress, you didn’t treat her like that automatically made her free to just sit and wait for you to serve a meal for her.

“Mhm,” she hummed and found the things you’d need for your rather late dinner. “Do you want me to take them to the table or wait until you fill the plates first?” she asked as you went to cut a tomato for a quick salad.

You paused for a moment. “Take them to the table,” you eventually decided and Jenna did it.

She turned toward you, catching herself watching your back as you spread a bit of vegan cheese over the tomato and seasoned it with a bit of salt. She noticed your movement, easy, relaxed, yet precise. That seemed to be your normal, just chill and easygoing, calming in a way, and she found it hard to imagine you being tense, or anxious. At least that’s how you looked to her from this close. You’ve shown her brief glimpses of nervousness, but it was just the regular amount, nothing out of the ordinary, and she found herself admiring that attitude.

Of course, she was yet to get to truly know you, but those were her first impressions.

“There,” you said as you finished preparing the salad and washed your hands on the sink before carrying the pot and the plate filled with the salad to the table where Jenna was waiting for you.

She watched you as you filled up the plates, your eyes met for a moment and you grinned, as if promising her she’d like the food. She knew she would, taste aside, though she had no doubt about that either, you took time to either get or make this for her, and she’d love it for that alone. She waited until you sat down, though with how hungry she was and how good the food smelled she found it really hard to resist. Finally, once you sat down she took a spoonful of the pilaf and hummed at how good it was. “Oh, this is amazing,” she praised and quickly turned to you. “Did you make this?” she could already guess the answer, but she still asked, almost astonished by how good it tasted.

“Yeah,” and that was all you really needed to tell her as you ate dinner at late hours of the night, on the first night of your stay at the hotel where you’d be filming Scream.

“Thank you, I really appreciate it,” Jenna told you once you emptied your plates, that fondness for you that’s been growing since meeting up in Los Angeles making her feel warm despite the slight chill of the late September night.

About an hour after she came into your hotel room her eyes widened and she quickly grabbed her phone. “Shit, mom will kill me,” she quickly sent a message to her mom, not wanting to interrupt her since she was at work at the moment.

She did it again, she lost track of everything while with you.

~X~

The birthday surprise sounded like a great idea, after all, you just had to hide it from Jenna for a couple of days. Nothing too bad, right? You underestimated just how difficult that was going to be. Especially since she seemed to like your company, and normally you’d be thrilled by that, but you were trying to surprise her for her birthday!

You also had to handle figuring out what she liked and didn’t like, or if there were any food allergies to worry about, or decision she may have made herself. And asking her about her preferences in sweets might be a bit too obvious. So, you did your best with what you had. Jenna mentioned she became a vegan a while ago in passing, so you knew that, and from what David told Melissa, Jenna wasn’t allergic to anything. So, there you were, in the hotel kitchen seeing what ingredients you had available and which one you were missing as you mentally went through different cakes you thought Jenna might like.

Making the cake would also be fairly easy. The kitchen was kinda bland, the regular dark gray kitchen, but it was spacious, and you would be able to easily get used to it. Most importantly, it looked like hiding the cakes would be easy. That was basically the deal, make two cakes so everyone can get a slice, Mikey and Melissa would handle some small appetizers, and that would be it. Get some non-alcoholic drinks, sing a song, and make sure not to overwhelm the girl, because you imagined that having a bunch of, basically, strangers, organize a huge surprise birthday party might be a bit overwhelming for anyone. And Jenna was already a bit shy and definitely introverted, so there was that too. You considered preparing a dinner, but between too many people being there and simply being unable to disappear for the whole day you gave up on that idea.

So, you were leaning on the counter, in the middle of flipping through the pages of your recipe notebook because you liked having hand-written notebook with recipes you’ve made and could comfortably claim were good. Remembering them was all well and good, but double checking was always a good choice. And then the kitchen doors opened.

“Oh, hi,” you heard Jenna’s voice and jumped, notebook flying up into the air as you tried to catch it. Only to just barely graze it with the tips of your fingers and have it land in front of Jenna’s feet. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you like that,” she quickly apologized when she got over the initial surprise, but you could see the amused smile on her face. You smiled back, seeing right through her, she was a bit proud of making you lose your composure, and well, you could respect that.

Well, it wasn’t that you were easily scared, you just did not expect her of all people. And you kinda panicked when the one you were meant to make a birthday cake for caught you in the kitchen! Even if you were yet to do anything. Especially since you kind of doubted you could lie to her, that’s how quickly she broke through any defense you may have had. “Right, that was,” you paused, leaning down to pick up your notebook. “Embarrassing,” you chuckled as you leaned back on the counter.

Jenna shrugged with a small smile on her face. “Please, do I need to remind you how many times I embarrassed myself, I think you’ll survive,” you could tell she was curious about the notebook. It was old, worn out, which was normal since it was half a decade old, a birthday gift from Barbara, s there was sentimental value to it as well.

“Oh, right, I forgot you were way worse,” you shrugged, the grin on your face giving away that you were joking.

Jenna frowned, and for a moment your heart skipped a beat. “Mhm, I’m sure I was,” she turned away from you and began looking for something in the kitchen.

You immediately backtracked. “Wait, please, I didn’t mean-“ but before you could finish you caught an amused look in her eyes, you still haven’t gotten to know her well enough to know for sure if she was joking, and she was still using that. It didn’t change the fact that you were still caught off guard by how expressive her eyes were. “Oh, you are sneaky,” you grinned.

“I’m looking for some fruit. You want some?” she asked you.

“I guess I could go for some fruit. There’s some canned pineapple in the storage, apples and bananas over there on that counter and some grapes and plums in the fridge,” you told her and she went over to the fridge.

“Grapes sound good,” she took a couple of smaller clusters and you pulled two bowls out. They were already washed so she just placed two clusters in each bowl. “Wanna eat them together?” she suggested, and you nodded with a grin, you quite enjoyed eating dinner with her last night, so you easily accepted sharing the fruit. So, you ended up following her through the halls into the dining hall, it wasn’t empty, but it wasn’t crowded either and you both greeted the few people you walked by.

You sat down next to Jenna and popped a grape into your mouth. “Did you get in trouble with your mom last night?” you asked and she shook her head.

“She understands, and I may have thrown you under the bus and said you held me up,” she revealed, clearly completely serious and you just froze with a grape in hand.

“Preposterous,” you huffed, and she raised an eyebrow. “Okay, maybe it is fair, but-“ yet before you could finish your sentence Jenna stole the grape in your hand and ate it. “Now that’s just uncalled for,” you blinked, taken aback by her boldness and Jenna just, she just laughed, leaning on your shoulder for support.

“You were saying?” she reminded you, but you just shrugged.

“Guess you’ll never know, thief,” you teased her just as your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you saw you were meant to go and prepare for the fight scene. Now, you were serious about your job, but a minute or two wouldn’t hurt, especially when you felt this at ease around Jenna, and you dared to say she felt the same way.

You moved on to the second cluster and your eyes widened a bit when you realized just how sweet it was. “Damn, these are really good!” without really thinking you split the cluster and dropped half of it in Jenna’s bowl.

“Wait, Y/N,” Jenna began protesting, even if she just stole a grape out of your hand, but you plucked the few grapes remaining on your cluster and got up to dispose of the trash.

You just winked at her. “Sorry, ma’am, duty calls,” you mock-saluted. “No, seriously, they need to go over the fight scene with me,” you made sure to explain and left the slightly embarrassed girl.

“Good luck!” Jenna exclaimed and you pumped your fist up in the air.

~X~

Two days later you were in the gym doing pull-ups when Melissa jogged in and looked around after she spotted you. “Good, you’re here, is everything set for Sunday?” she asked, not beating around the bushes in case Jenna somehow came in.

“Yeah, just need to actually make the cakes,” it wasn’t the first time Melissa came in to talk about the surprise while you were working out, and when she told you it was okay to just keep training you found no reason to go against that. You had about fifteen minutes left anyway. You dropped down after finishing the set and took a few deep breaths, next one would be tough.

“Great, and you’re sure she doesn’t suspect anything?” she asked, making you nod.

“Not one thing. So far so good, we’ve all been busy, especially her since she has the first half of the opening scene to film, so she hasn’t been paying attention to things that may have given the surprise away,” and there were few things. She bumped into Mikey and Jasmin after they did the shopping for the appetizers. She ended up walking into the kitchen while you were talking to the hotel staff about what you’d need to borrow, and even Melissa had a close call or two from what you heard from others.

Melissa nodded at that, satisfied with the answer. “I think having a birthday away from your closest loved ones, especially one as significant as the eighteenth birthday would make someone feel lonely, and she’s a lovely girl. I’d like her to feel appreciated,” Melissa confessed. You could see she almost immediately got attached to Jenna, and you were willing to bet she felt even a bit protective, so slipping into the role of the protective older sister definitely wouldn’t be difficult for Melissa.

Not that you could say anything, you’ve known Jenna for less than a month, chemistry test not included, and you couldn’t deny that you felt the say way Melissa did. You wanted Jenna to be happy and if you could do something to make her birthday feel better, you’d do it in a heartbeat.

“We’ll do everything we can to make her feel that way,” you confirmed, jumping up and grabbing onto the bar with only your right hand. You gritted your teeth, focused and did one-armed pull-up, ignoring the gasp Melissa let out. Yeah, you figured one-armed pull-ups were a bit impressive.

~X~

The first few days of filming, at least for you, were mostly used for preparations, going over the fight choreography and practicing the fights, so you barely filmed any scenes, though you and Jenna got through the scene you did for chemistry read. You were both definitely comfortable with one another, but you both also knew every other scene between you two from now on would rely on touch even more.

And surprisingly you were perfectly fine with it. And it wasn’t just that you were professionals doing your jobs, you really were comfortable with Jenna’s touch.

It wasn’t the touch that you were worried about, in fact the only scene you were truly worried about, as far as your own acting went, was the climax of the hospital scene. When your and Jenna’s characters are held by Ghostfaces, and your character gets shot while Tara has an asthma attack. Honestly, you were kind of dreading that scene. Not only would it be emotionally draining, but you felt like you were still not back to the performance level from Logan, having only been acting for a few days now, and you just weren’t sure of yourself. You knew, you understood that for the scene to be done well you and Jenna would have to give it your all, and make it not the sum of those two parts, but something bigger, better than that. At least the scene would be filmed over the span of three days so you hoped you could get your act together by then.

Right now, you and Jenna were settling down on the bed, with Keith, one of the stuntmen for Ghostface getting ready and putting the mask on.

“Are you comfortable?” you asked as Jenna lay down with her head on your chest. You could see the hint of a blush on her cheeks as she swallowed the lump in her throat and you hesitated to pt your arm around her like you were supposed to.

“I am, don’t worry,” she assured you, and she was honest, she really was, but deep down you could sense she needed reassurance. Yet you weren’t sure how to give it to her. “You? I can move a bit more to the side if you want?” she suggested, but you shook your head.

“I’m okay,” you looked down at your arm and she nodded, giving you the permission to hold her. It wasn’t like the couple of hugs you had, this was more intimate, would last longer, would probably be repeated a few times. While Jenna seemed to enjoy the hugs, you understood why she was nervous. It wasn’t even you in particular, but just being this close with someone, especially when it was the first scene like this for the two of you.

Matt and Tyler finishing giving instructions to everyone, the two of you closed your eyes, pretending to be asleep. Keith walked into the room, and you heard him stopping at the bottom of the bed. He paused, as he was meant to do. Since Amber was supposed to watch Tara and C/N for a bit and then try to kill your character.

Keith then moved, but bumped his foot on the bed and winced. “I’m okay,” he assured, and you opened you eyes, you’d have to start over anyway.

“I always feel like somebody's watching me! Who's playing tricks on me?” you sang, so abruptly Jenna began giggling and you laughed, soon enough the crew around you lost composure.

“I’m so sorry,” Jenna apologized as she struggled to control her giggles.

“Completely my fault,” you grinned, and you felt her relaxing significantly more, relaxing into your touch. You didn’t say anything, pretending not to notice the shift in her posture, as she was no longer trying to hold most of her weight on her side but properly leaned on you. Her eyes shone brightly as she finally stopped giggling and looked at you with a grin on her face.

There it was, the look you were hoping to see. The same way she looked at you when you weren’t filming.

“Okay, now that everyone is calm again, take two!” Matt instructed and the two of you and Keith got back into your positions.

Keith walked to your side of the bed, and you felt robes brushing against you, which was your cue. You moved quickly, just barely syncing with his movement and catching his wrist. You stayed like that for a few moments, letting your character process everything as Keith pretended, he was trying to push the knife into your chest to no avail.

Jenna opened her eyes and screamed, and it was impressive to say the least. And she quickly placed her hand between your chest and the tip of your knife. But more than that, the way she scream, the way she moved, you, even if only for a bit, felt the anger your character would be feeling in these circumstances.

So, you and Keith went through the practiced action scene of the day, first with the knee to his shoulder, and elbow to the guts, of course, just making it look like you were hitting him. You gently moved Jenna aside. “I’ll be right back,” and your eyes widened. That wasn’t meant to be the line!

“Cut!” Tyler exclaimed and you just sat up.

“Sorry about that,” you apologized to Jenna and Keith, and also the rest of the crew, but mostly to the two of them.

Jenna, however, seemed to have another idea. “Wait, isn’t that one of the rules? Don’t say ‘I’ll be back’?” she asked, and you could swear you saw lightbulbs lighting up above Matt and Tyler’s heads.

“You’re right! We’re keeping that in, get back into positions!”

And so, you did, getting it all just right in the next take.

~X~

Finally, Sunday, and with that Jenna’s eighteenth birthday came, and you would soon stop having to hide the truth from the younger actress. You figured she’d spend the morning on the call with her family, so she’d likely just grab a snack from the kitchen instead of eating breakfast with you like she did these past few days. Well, it wasn’t only with you, someone else was usually there as well, but she was always next or very close to you.

You were somewhat glad she would skip the breakfast with you, because keeping your eyes open seemed like an impossible task at the moment, and you kept almost dozing off at the table with your sandwich lying on the table, unwrapped and barely touched. Seeing how many times you jerked awake it really was good that Jenna wouldn’t see you in this state.

Though, maybe you underestimated how used Jenna got to eating with you.

“Hi!” she dropped onto the seat next to you with a light breakfast, just some cereal and a French toast, and even as sleepy as you were you could tell she was in a really good mood.

“Morning, Jen,” you, however yawned, seeing as you spent most of the last night making the cakes and didn’t really get any sleep. You’d have to take a nap later, but more importantly you were surprised Jenna was here instead of sleeping in or something. It was seven in the morning! It was her birthday! Did that mean nothing to her?

“Long night?” she asked, both concerned and amused by the state you were , and if you weren’t so sleep deprived maybe you would have noticed that she was holding back on telling you something.

“Yeah,” you felt like it would be easier to bench a thousand pounds than it was to keep your head from dropping onto the table. If it was any other week you’d be fine, but between making the cakes, long workouts, action-heavy scenes, as well as practicing for them, and pure mental exhaustion brought on by your high expectations of yourself you were just about ready to drop.

And Jenna noticed that. She placed a comforting hand on your shoulder and squeezed lightly. “Hey, hey look at me,” she whispered gently. “Go back to bed, okay? Do it for me?” well now, who were you to refuse such a sweet and genuine request.

“You’re the boss,” you began packing your sandwich, but Jenna placed her hand over your own, taking the task over. “Sorry,” you apologized but she just smiled at you, and you could see she didn’t mind doing it.

“Come on, let’s get you back to your bed,” she place your sandwich on her tray, picked it up and took your hand, slowly guiding you back to your room.

“Jen,” you nearly wished her happy birthday, it was on the tip of your tongue, but you weren’t about to ruin the surprise. “Thanks,” instead you just thanked her, hoping that one word would be enough to show that you really, genuinely appreciated her doing this for you as you unlocked your doors and stumbled to the bed, not even bothering to lay down properly.

You still felt a blanket covering you and a soft hand lifting your head up just enough to put a pillow underneath it.

~X~

The entire cast let the day go on as usual, just chilling out together and getting to know each other. Not once did you hear anyone wish happy birthday to Jenna, so you figured she didn’t tell anyone and was just going along with the day as if it was any other. Though, she did spend some time in her room, on a call with her family. You were glad it happened to be Sunday, she deserved to rest on her birthday.

By the time the dinner was approaching you were making sure everything was set, the appetizers, the birthday cakes, you went with an icy wind cake, using layers of kiwi, banana, strawberry and blueberries on the very top. It was a cake your neighbor taught you how to make while you were still a teen, and considering you found out that Jenna did like most fruits you figured this was a good choice.

“Is everything ready?” Melissa asked as her, Mason and Jasmin came in, ready to help you bring everything out.

“Yeah, just lighting the candles,” you said, lighting the candles on both of the round cakes.

“You know, I think she’ll love this,” Mason commented as he and Jasmin took the plates with appetizers, while you and Melissa took one cake each.

“I sure hope so, it was a pain in the ass to hide this from her,” Jasmin laughed and nudged you with her elbow. “Especially for you.”

“Don’t remind me,” you chuckled, thinking back to the many times Jenna nearly stumbled into the surprise you all were preparing for her.

Jasmin opened the doors for the four of you while Mikey kept Jenna distracted and with her back turned to the door you would come through. And then, when she saw the four of you, she grinned. “And, three, two, one!” she exclaimed as everyone else from the cast began clapping and all of you began singing ‘Happy birthday’ to Jenna.

Poor girl looked around wide-eyed, completely taken aback with a dark blush covering her cheeks. “Oh my god!” she hid her face in her hands, something you noticed she did whenever she felt shy and embarrassed.

“Someone remembered your birthday,” Melissa motioned toward David “And we had to celebrate it,” she set the cake down on the table and patted Jenna on the shoulder to comfort her.

“Thank you!” Jenna quickly hugged her and got up, going to Jasmin and Mason and hugging them as well, as you were still busy placing the cake next to the one Melissa left on the table. The moment your hands were free from the cake she quickly hugged you, keeping her hold on you firm and tight as she nuzzled against your shoulder. “Thank you, thank you so much,” she whispered before going on to hug each and every person in the room.

You took a camera from Mikey and gestured toward it as Jenna got ready to blow the candles. “Please,” she gave you the permission and you snapped a few photos as she blew the candles out and then handed the camera back to Mikey so she could handle taking the photos. You and Melissa had another task, to cut the cakes since Jenna was still a bit too shocked by all of this.

“Here, birthday girl,” you grinned as you gave her the first piece and she playfully rolled her eyes at the name before taking the plate.

“This looks amazing, where did you even get it?” she asked as she waited for everyone else to get a piece. And then the realization hit her when she saw your grin. “No way!”

“Apparently someone was cast too perfectly for her role,” Mikey teased you a bit as you handed her the piece. “Y/N made them,” she confirmed what Jenna already figured out Jenna just looked at you, her eyes looking into your soul and heart as you shrugged.

“I never said my cooking is limited to basics,” you grinned handing out the last few pieces to whoever didn’t have their piece. There was maybe a sixth of the second cake left by the time you were done. As you set the knife down you felt a hand on your wrist and you turned around, and before you could register what was going on Jenna pulled you in for another hug. “Thank you, you shouldn’t have, but thank you,” she whispered as you hugged her back.

“Don’t mention it,” you told her softly. The two of you went and sat down and began eating the cake.

Jenna hummed at the taste, and you couldn’t hold back a proud grin on your face. “This is amazing! You have to give me a recipe,” she wasn’t asking for it, she damn near demanded it.

“Sure, but I have to try it when you make it,” you said, pulling out your phone and typing the recipe from memory.

Jenna shook her head. “I can’t make this, but my mom can,” she explained, causing you to nod.

“There, sent it,” you told her after a few minutes and then you just enjoyed the celebration, which quickly turned into a chaotic fun as Mason and Jack tried to get the projector to work so you could all watch a movie.

“When is your birthday?” Jenna asked, watching fondly as the chaos ensued in the room.

“Don’t know,” you smirked teasingly.

“Come on, tell me,” she persisted, even going as far as to lean closer to you to try and get you to talk.

“I’m telling you, I don’t know. Mom was Chinese zodiac enthusiast, dad hated everything, so all I know is I’m born in the year of the metal dragon. Yes, metal dragon was very important to her, so much so that she waited nine years to have me,” you said it so confidently, so casually, that you wouldn’t blame someone if they took you seriously.

“Y/N,” Jenna warned you teasingly.

“Enjoy the day, I’ll tell you tomorrow. I was born in the year of the dragon though, that isn’t a lie,” you assured her, and though she pouted, she sighed and accepted that trying to get that information out of you right now was more than likely futile.

“Thanks again, for making the cakes for me,” she said, leaning slightly on your shoulder as the movie finally started.

“Anytime, Jen,” you whispered.

“Wait, so that’s why you were sleepy this morning!” she suddenly realized, and you just laughed, pulling her in for a one-armed hug as she pouted at you.

“Thanks for taking care of me, by the way,” you told her, hoping she would know this was fine, that you were more than happy to do this, and that given the chance you’d do it again.

~X~

When you came back to your room a few hours later it was after everyone was done with the celebration. It probably could have went on for a bit longer, but you all had to go back to filming in the morning so no more partying for any of you, that was for sure.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you raised an eyebrow, not a lot of people called you. You took it from your pocket and grinned, answering immediately.

“Well, hello there!” you fell back on the bed, your day just got even better, if that was possible.

“Hey kid, got anything you’d like to share?” you could hear the teasing, as well as pride in Hugh’s voice. He already knew, you could tell that much, but he wanted to hear it from you as well.

“Back to filming, but you already knew that,” you wondered if you could live up to it, to his expectations. What were his expectations anyway?

“Yes, Tom told me,” you actually met Tom through Hugh, so of course Tom would tell him. “Just take it easy, okay? I know you’ve got a lot on your mind right now, all the pressure you might be feeling, just know that what matters the most is that you are happy while doing this job,” that was the same logic he had back when he advised you while you were filming Logan. Love your job, love portraying your characters and if possible, love your characters as well. Love them enough to come back and play them again if needed. That, aside from teaching you to take your time with things, was the most valuable lesson Hugh taught you about acting.

“I’ll try, I just, I feel like I need to follow Logan up with something incredible,” you admitted, and you both knew what you meant. It wasn’t about awards, or about the audience reception, it was about the experience making it, because Logan was truly something special for you as a child.

“You will, I’m sure you’re getting to know people that will help you turn it into something like that,” he assured you and you smiled, given how the past couple of days went you actually believed him.

Masterlist / First Part / Next Part

Taglist: @lilbitdepressed27 @freakshow2501

[tojjist]

♯♯ birthday special - t. fushiguro

a/n: i didn't do anything for the holiday season bc i barely had time :( but i still wanted to do summ for his birthday soo.

warnings: like one cuss. completely fulff. not proof read! sunshine x grumpy

toji fushiguro hates you. toji fushiguro despises you for all you are; kind, loving, sweet, and damn perfect.

it’s almost insulting to him, really. the way you mock him with your soft little smile, patronizing him with your kindness.

he hated how complicated you are. he could never understand your motives. why would you treat him like that? knowing where he came from and what his past looked like. why do you stick around when he offers next to nothing? he couldn’t find any proof of an ulterior motive yet he couldn’t accept the simple reality of you actually wanting to be around him.

but toji hated one thing above all; how you make him feel. he doesn’t get the way his chest clouds and breath tightens whenever your skin comes in contact with his. his tongue goes paralyzed when you smile his way, eyes unmoving from your face when you scoff a small chuckle at whatever dumb shit he said. he can’t even remember what made you laugh but he gets this overwhelming urge to do it again.

he grows vulnerable, craving your touch when you’re not around. he’s soon hyper aware of his attachment to you. but toji is a smart man, and he knows he can’t do anything about the situation he found himself entangled in.

when he’s away, a single hour could feel like a whole eternity. and he can’t wait to be back home. home where you’re waiting. home where he belongs.

it doesn’t take long for him to grow accustomed to the physical proximity of you. the feel of you becomes a soothing balm, gently brushing away all his worries even if only temporarily.

toji fushiguro hates you. he hates how his heart skips a beat whenever his nose picks up on your sweet scent. he hates how the sound of your voice downright puts his entire world on pause, stopping to hear every little word that leaves your lips. from mumbles when you’re half-asleep to your little rants about your day or the new show you’ve been watching.

toji fushiguro hates how he’s capable of so little. he can’t give you the world. he can’t give you the dream life. he can’t give you a luxurious house. he can’t give you fancy dates or decent holiday getaways. heck, sometimes he can’t give you even time.

that’s why he makes sure to spend every minute he could with you, basking in the haven you created for him.

he tells himself he’s doing it all for himself. he says he needs a rest and just keeps you around because it’s easier than ‘looking for another girl’. toji tries to convince himself that it’s temporary, that you’re just willing to stick around and that he’d leave sooner than later. he says he’s selfish and doing it all for himself.

but it’s clear as day when his arms cling to you first thing in the morning, searching for your warmth despite the duvet he had pushed away. it’s obvious in the way he caresses your hair while you pretend to be asleep. occasionally he’d let his lips find the crown of your head, greeting your hair with soft kisses.

toji fushiguro hates you. he hates when you told him that you loved him, in his car on some tuesday night when he took you out for a ride late at night even though he needed to sleep.

toji fushiguro hates how your face lit up when he brought some flowers home with him,mumbling something along the lines of “the vase been empty for too fucking long”. but there was no vase. and he only realized when he got up at night to get some water, spotting the pretty flowers set in a plastic water jug.

toji fushiguro hates his new life. he hates how different he’s become. the hostile menace has become a quiet man, following behind you everywhere you go as if he were your personal gorilla. toji fushiguro hates how much life mattered now. toji fushiguro hates the responsibility he feels.

he says it’s restricting, suffocating even. he clicks his tongue in annoyance when he sees the time. it’s past dinner time and he needs to be home to not keep you waiting. he’s frustrated at himself when he finds you plopped on the couch, face peaceful while you presumably have fallen asleep as you awaited his return. he feels guilt gnawing at him when he sees the food you’ve made, having not eaten so he wouldn’t have dinner alone.

you’re too much for him. and while he’d felt like he owes you at some point, sick of your little favors and stupid sweet words, toji soon realizes this life is his. it was by choice that he let you into his life, slowly rearranging the blocks of his reality. you broke and rebuild, fixing a man who believed he was long beyond repair.

toji fushiguro hates you. toji fushiguro despises you for all you are, kind, loving, sweet, and painfully his.

somewhere along the way toji has accepted all that he feels. falling in love isn’t shameful. he’s become a fool but he thinks it’s worth it long as you’ve the one who’s molded him into this shape.

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Hey

you can write an hsc in which a just-born baby cried when he saw his father (for everyone) (Bayverse)

Thanks you

Your Baby Cries When They First Meet Him (Fluff)

Bayverse!Turtles x reader

A/N: Of course I can! Any excuse to bring my Bayverse OCs into play💙❤️💜🧡

------------

Warning: Cute toddlers and crying babies💚

------------

Leonardo:

Leonardo sat on a stool in the kitchen, his fingers strumming against the table beside him, all while Casey and Vern came with friendly words, trying to calm the terrapin down. Leo’s blue eyes were filled with anxiety as he glanced nervously at the closed door, behind which you were in the process of giving birth to your third child.

Raph, Mikey, and Splinter were engaged in a lively game with Leo's other two sons, Romeo and Marcello, trying to distract them from the tension in the air. Leo's leg jumped restlessly as he watched them, his mind racing with thoughts of you and the new baby, hoping that the two of you were going to be okay.

After what felt like an eternity, the door swung open, and a weary-looking Donatello, and a just as tired April emerged. Leo practically leapt towards him, his expression desperate for news.

"How is she? How's the baby?", Leo asked in a rush, barely giving Donnie a chance to respond.

Donatello offered a reassuring yet tired smile. "Everything went smoothly, Leo. You have a healthy baby boy". Leo's shoulders sagged in relief, and he let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. "You can go in now. They're waiting for you".

Leo nodded his gratitude and entered the room alone, his sons still busy playing with their uncles and grandfather. Inside, you were propped up on the bed, a tired but content smile on your face. In your arms, a tiny bundle of blankets squirmed, a pair of small green hands just visible from where Leo stood.

Leo's eyes softened as he approached, taking in the sight of you and the newborn. "Hey," he whispered, his voice filled with awe.

You smiled at him, holding out the baby. "Meet Gerardo, our little ninja". Leo carefully cradled the newborn in his arms, his heart swelling with love at the sight.

But as soon as Gerardo's blue eyes met Leo's, the baby let out a tiny cry. Leo's eyes widened, and he exchanged a bewildered look with you. "Did I do something wrong?", he asked, panic evident in his voice.

You chuckled softly, shaking your head. "No, Leo. He's just getting to know you. It's a big, new world for him. Don’t you remember how much Marcello used to cry?"

Leo relaxed, relief flooding over him. He then turned his attention back to the small crying baby in his arm, doing what he had done for the past six years, after the birth of his first son. “Hey, little guy. Shhhh, don’t worry. It’s okay. Daddy’s here”.

“Mommy? Daddy?”, Romeo’s small voice sounded in the doorway. Him and Marcello stood with their big eyes looking at you. “Can we come and say hi?”

“Of course you can”, Leo said, before crouching down to their hight, with the now calm baby in his arms. “Boys, say hello to you baby brother”.

Raphael:

Raphael paced nervously outside the door of the Needle Room, where you had just given birth to your third child. The air was thick with tension as he awaited the news. Inside, you were recovering with a tired but radiant smile on your face, cradling the newest addition to your family - a baby boy named Ragnar. The room was filled with warmth and the soft murmur of voices as your two daughters, Joan and Mini, eagerly awaited their turn to meet their baby brother.

The door creaked open, and Raph was the first to burst in, his heart pounding with a mixture of joy and trepidation. Joan and Mini followed closely behind him, their eyes wide with curiosity.

Raph's gaze immediately found yours, and a wide grin spread across his face. He couldn't help but admire the strength and beauty he saw in you, a mother who had just brought a new life into the world.

"Hey, babe", he whispered, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead.

As he pulled back, his eyes shifted to Ragnar, who lay peacefully in your arms. Joan and Mini, standing at the foot of the bed, were eager to meet their baby brother.

"Come on, you two", Raphael beckoned, a proud smile on his face. "Meet your little brother".

Joan, the elder sister, stepped forward first. Her eyes widened with amazement as she gazed at the tiny bundle in your arms. "Wow, mom, he's so small!"

Mini, the younger and more energetic one, couldn't contain her excitement. She bounced on her toes, trying to get a better look. "Can I hold him, mom? Can I?"

You chuckled, letting Joan crawl up on to the bed, letting her hold him with a mix of awe and responsibility. Mini eagerly crawled up on the bed too, hovered over her sister, eager to be a part of the excitement.

Raphael watched the scene unfold with a proud and loving heart. His gaze flickered from you to the children, and a feeling of completeness washed over him.

With a tender smile, he turned back to you, leaning in for another kiss. But just as his lips touched yours, Ragnar stirred, and then the inevitable happened - the newborn let out a tiny, discontented cry.

Raphael pulled away, his eyes widening in surprise. "Whoa, little guy, what's wrong?"

Joan and Mini exchanged worried glances as they held their baby brother, trying to comfort him.

You chuckled softly. "Looks like he's not a fan of PDA, Raph".

Raphael scratched the back of his head, a sheepish grin on his face. "Guess I'll have to work on my timing".

The room filled with laughter as Ragnar's cries were quickly replaced by the soothing reassurances of his family. Raphael, now holding Ragnar in his large, strong arms, softly humming him to sleep.

Donatello:

Normally Donatello would be in charge of anything medical, but when it came to the birth of his own children, he was too nervous. There April and Splinter were the ones in the Needle Room with you, helping you through the birth.

Donatello was not only concerned for you but also for his firstborn, 5 year old Galileo, who continuously looked towards the closed door, wondering when you’ll be able to come out again.

But thankfully it was a successful birth. You were cleaned up by April and brought extra pillows and blankets by Splinter.

As the door swung open, revealing the bed where you lay with Dorothy and Marie in your arms, Gali rushed forward, his eyes shining with excitement.

"They're beautiful, Mommy!", he exclaimed, his little face lit up with joy.

Donnie couldn't hide his own beaming smile as he gazed at the four most important people in his life. Splinter stood by, his presence a calming influence in the room, placing a comforting hand on Donnie’s shoulder.

"Can I sit with Mommy and one of the babies?", Gali asked, looking up at Splinter and Donnie with hopeful eyes.

Splinter nodded, a kind smile on his face. "Of course, my child. Go ahead".

Gali carefully climbed onto the bed with the help of his grandfather, settling on one side with you and one of the twins, Dorothy. Donnie moved to pick up the other baby, Marie, gently cradling her in his arms. But as soon as Marie left the comfort of your arms, she let out a soft, discontented cry. Donnie's eyes widened, a mix of surprise and concern washing over him.

"Is she okay?", he asked, his voice filled with worry. He didn’t recall Gali crying when he picked him up the first time.

April, who was nearby, reassured him, "It's normal, Donnie. Babies often cry when they're moved. She just needs a little time to adjust".

Donnie nodded, his nervousness slowly giving way to understanding. He cradled Marie close, whispering soothing words to her. Galil, on the other side of the bed, looked up at you with a mix of curiosity and concern.

"It's okay, little one", you reassured Marie, your voice gentle, your reaching up in order to hold her small one. "Daddy’s got you".

Donatello continued to comfort Marie, his gentle touch and soothing words eventually calming her cries. Gali watched in awe as his father effortlessly handled the situation.

Soon, the room was filled with the sounds of a contented family. Gali sat proudly beside you, one arm wrapped around his sister, and Donnie cradled Marie in his arms, a sense of peace and content settling over the room.

Michelangelo:

The lair echoed with a mix of excitement and nervous energy. Michelangelo, usually the most carefree and energetic of the turtles, was pacing nervously outside the Needle Room where you were giving birth to your first child.

Inside the room, April and Donatello was guiding you through the birthing process while the other turtles hovered nervously around their brother, offering support in various ways. Leo comforted his little brother, reminding him how to calm himself down. "Come on, Mikey, you got this. Breath. Just breathe”.

As the minutes passed, Mikey's nervousness grew to the point where he felt a bit queasy. He had never been good with medical stuff, and the thought of something happening to you and the child made him want to throw up. Leo and Raph tried their best to distract him, but the worry remained etched on Mikey's face.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, April announced, "It's time!" The turtles rushed into the room, Mikey following hesitantly, his heart pounding so hard in his chest, it almost made it hard for him to walk.

The room was filled with the soft cries of the newborn, and a wave of relief washed over Michelangelo as he heard those precious sounds.

You cradled Sunny in your arms with a radiant smile. The turtles gathered around, taking turns peeking at the newest member of their family. Mikey, however, hung back, a mix of excitement and nerves written all over his face. He still had a hard time calming down.

Once the initial chaos settled, you beckoned him over. "Come meet your daughter, Mikey".

His eyes widened with awe as he approached, his nervousness replaced by an overwhelming sense of joy. Gently, you transferred Sunny into his arms. His gaze never left her tiny face as he held her close. For a moment, everything felt perfect. Mikey stared down at Sunny, his heart swelling with love. But then, unexpectedly, Sunny let out a tiny cry.

Mikey's eyes widened in surprise, and a look of panic crossed his face. "Did I do something wrong? Is she okay?", he stammered, glancing between Sunny and you.

April chuckled softly, reassuring him. "It's okay, Mikey. Babies often cry when they're getting used to being outside the cozy womb. It's perfectly normal".

His expression shifted from worry to relief, and he tentatively bounced Sunny in his arms, offering a tentative smile. "Hey, little dudette, it's just your cool dad. No need to cry. We're gonna have so much fun together!"

As if responding to his words, Sunny's cries began to subside, and she nestled into the warmth of Mikey's embrace. A wave of contentment washed over the room as the turtles shared in the joy of welcoming a new member into their unconventional family.

[amoristt]

tempt you (evocatio)

「 ✦ seong gi-hun / reader ✦ 」 tags: sfw // genderless reader, angst, hurt/comfort, slow burn but in a oneshot way, post games gi-hun, reader wants to take him away from all this, songfic

a/n: this song has been on LOOP since i started writing this omg. i love nbt so much and i loved writing this!!!! word count: 6k || original request (x)

・❥・The man that had showed up at your doorstep that frigid, stormy night was not the same man you'd once known. Shared the same face, same hair, same body- albeit soaked to the bone with the downpour. But there were more differences beyond his hair dropping streams down his face and the fading wounds. There was this... sense of him. A somber, wounded aura that carried an eternal frown and dark eye circles. He looked lost, like a shell of himself, gutted from the inside out.

Six months had done a terrible, terrible number on him. Six months had chewed him up to grueling bits and spat him out at your doorstep this broken, mangled thing.

Gi-hun wouldn't talk about it- whatever it was. He wouldn't talk about much of anything at all, really. That was one of the other changes you noticed about him right off the bat- your old friend would have filled any and all silences with endless chatter and laughter. Now, he existed in silence, like a melancholic ghost.

You'd always been so fond of him- and he, of you. He chose you more often than he didn't, sought life from you and you did all the same. Even with his problems, even with your own, you both found solace drinking on your balcony overlooking the small city, watching busy bodies scurry below like insects. Two struggling souls trudging through the meddling marsh that was life and it's many, many choices. Almost too many to handle.

You loved when he chose you.

Which is why when he'd showed up now, without so much as even a hello, you couldn't turn him away. Not even after the silence. Not even after you'd spent more nights thinking of him until it felt as thought your head would crush under the sheer density of his absence.

Or perhaps, it was the guilt you felt- the guilt that had saddled you like a pony and rode you until you were weak in the knees and sick in the head.

He'd come to you, then, strained and desperate pleading for funds to pay for his mothers surgery. A good cause- more important than anything else he'd ever 'borrowed' for. But back then, you had only just started working, and you could barely afford the roof over your head. He left that day with his tail tucked between his legs and you remembered thinking, man, you had fucked up something so good.

And when he never came back, you knew it to be true. And it killed you.

The most heart twisting change, standing before you now, was his smile. Or so, the lack of it. Oh, how you loved his smile- even when he was being an ass, even when he was lying. You loved that toothy, boyish grin and the uptick to his voice as he spoke with you. His expression was miles below now, with a frown so drawn that it carved deep lines into his skin.

He just needed some sleep.

Specifically, he needed someone with him while he slept. Something about paranoia and nightmares. It was certainly an odd request- but you were sure he knew you would be the best candidate for the job. Working from home and leading a rather... Introverted lifestyle, you seldom had visitors, and you never saw your bed before 6am. You spent countless evenings with him before, laughing amongst the latest hours of the night.

This was different. No laughter. No drinking, or telling jokes and stories until the birds began to chirp. No room for the good things in life.

Just sleep.

He needed a watch dog, and in his tired eyes, you made the perfect hound.

You were softer with him after you let him saunter inside your little home, probably softer than you had ever been in your entire life. Every step trailing him was quiet, like you would spook him if you moved too quickly. He stood in the middle of your living room dripping water onto your floor, unmoving, until you brought a towel. When he didn't react, those eyes so far away and abandoned, you decided to just towel him off yourself.

Removing his wet coat was a far more nerve wracking process. Not because he was upset- it was actually quite the opposite. He wasn't anything. Just stared into nothing, lost in a thick fog as you undid all the buttons and peeled the heavy fabric off his broad shoulders before tossing it to hang over a kitchen chair.

Whatever had happened to him while he was gone had changed him. Damaged him. It made you feel bad for the nights you cursed him, your anger getting the better of you when he never returned a call or text. Guilt had turned you into this unsettled, bitter beast. You missed him- you missed your friend. You always dreamed of him coming back, but you never expected this.

A part of you wondered if maybe you should get him to a hospital, for all you knew, he could have been concussed or injured. But when you tried to even bring the idea up he was quick to shoot it down. Even quicker to grab your arm when you tried to get up, like a knee jerk reaction, fingers grasping around your wrist tightly, then gentler when he realized.

He just wanted to sleep.

So, you let him.

That first night, you sat at your kitchen table, watching him rest. A thousand and one questions bounced around behind your eyes, your skull became quite full of burdened wonders. What had happened to your old friend, to make him so damn afraid?

During the hours he made quite the symphony of sounds. Sometimes it was these quiet little sighs, sometimes they were tense, ground out huffs. His brows would knit with the frustrations of his dreams, fingers gripping into tight fists before loosening to open palms over the softness of your couch. All these agonies that he couldn't run from, always finding him, even in his dreams.

You wanted to sooth him, run your fingers through his thick unkempt hair and hush all those petrified whimpers.

The birds warned of the sun before it showed face over the earth, the sky fading from a murky black dotted with stars into a softer hue, a halo of blue engulfing the distant horizon. Surely when he rose, he would be akin to a zombie, bleary eyed and drained after such an egregious rest.

Gi-hun awoke on his own just before brazen golds would streak over the clear morning sky with nothing but a slow rise to his feet. He looked... Decent, enough. Wiped the tired from his eyes and settled his hands on his lap. You watched him from the living room doorway, leaning against the frame, pity building quite the foundations within the cavity of your chest. He looked so defeated. You wished you could grab him by the shoulders and shake him out of it, snap him back into that bright soul you'd once known, but something about the state of him told you this wasn't something that would just go away.

Something had happened to him. Something so altering it rebuilt the very presence of him.

When he realized how you lingered, watching him, he stood and bowed before you. And then he was grabbing his semi-dry coat and slinking to the door, slipping outside without another word.

It didn't sit right with you. You had this gnawing, chewing feeling that perhaps you should have tried to convince him to stay. It felt too much like that day he'd left, so broken. It ripped chunks into your conscious until you ran to your door and threw it open, peeking down the hallway of your apartment complex. You saw the outline of him down the hall.

Come back when you need to, you'd called. He only looked back long enough to offer you a respectful bow before he was gone around the corner.

He didn't come back for nearly five days. Five days that you spent thinking about him incessantly. Between having missed him while he was gone and always wondering where he'd went, now that he was back, you somehow had more questions than answers. What was going on with him? Was he in danger? Is he still in danger? He'd said he was paranoid- paranoid about what? He clearly trusted you, but would he ever trust you enough to tell you?

The second night that he showed up, it was the same story, minus the rainstorm. He slinked into your domain but this time he slid his shoes off at the door, sauntered to your living room and plopped himself down on your couch. He fell asleep quicker that time, slept deeper, too. You took the time to catch up on some reading, but it was hard to focus on the writing when every now and then Gi-hun would make this pathetically sad noises. Noises that you wished you still wished you could soothe and hush.

Before he had gone to sleep, he'd told you this would be the last night he came. He would not tell you why, but he reeked of shame. You spent the entire night wishing, praying this would not be the last.

He broke your heart again. Whether he knew it or not.

That morning, you tried to make conversation. You kept it light- if he had plans that day, if he slept well. He didn't entirely ignore you this time, but offered little more than nods or soft hums of confirmation. But it was something. You could always do something with something.

Just don't disappear again. Even like this.

He left that morning with a gentle thank you and nothing more.

-

It seemed, to your dismay, Gi-hun had been true to his words.

Night after night rolled on, the days blurring into weeks and then into months. Your life had become interrupted, rocked by his two mere visits, unsure why you were so affected by the man. He was like a parasite under your skin, a creature who'd taken up housing within the confines of your mind. His sunken in features, his melancholic thousand yard stares, the way he was entirely shrouded in depressing mystery.

You hadn't realized how much you had missed him, hadn't realized how much you appreciated his company those two nights. Even sad. Even barely even a company at all, you loved him there.

Two months had passed by the time you saw him again. With an arm full of groceries and your mind lost elsewhere, you meandered up the stairs to your floor. Dim lights lit the way as you went, step by step through the complex full of sleeping bodies. You were lucky your local grocery store was open at all hours of the night, being as it was currently four in the morning. It felt all too natural for you.

Daylight brought too much... Energy. Skittering glances and chirpy tones that you really struggled to keep up with. The night was safe. The night was quiet.

You're so lost in thought that you almost don't realize there's a figure standing down the hallway. Well, you do notice them, but you don't realize they're standing in front of your apartment until you're just a couple doors away. They hadn't seen you yet, standing as still as a statue before your apartment with their hands limp to their sides.

Fear rippled up and down your spine as you took in the sight of him. In the low light, you could barely make out a few key details- short black hair, a heavy dark coat and even darker pants. No one you could immediately recognize. You rarely had visitors in the daylight let alone in the middle of the night.

What the hell could they possibly want with you at this hour?

There's something familiar about the figure, you realize, as you too stand there stuck in place watching them. The way they lean forward, almost curling into themselves as they stood. The low hang of their head.

The person raises their hand to your door, making a fist, unaware that your home sat vacant. You expected them to knock, bracing for the sound, but they freeze, almost like they're too nervous to actually draw the attention. Just barely an inch from your door. Hovering. Torn between choices, choices, choices.

Their confidence fails them. Their arm falls loosely to their side.

They take a step back- just close enough under the light for you finally get a good look at their face.

Your breath leaves you all at once.

With so little light, it's difficult to really see their features. But you'd know them anywhere- you just aren't sure how you hadn't recognized them the second you'd taken the ghastly state of them.

Gi-hun.

A wave of heart-wrenching distress drew your quizzical expression into a deep frown, worsened when he took another step back and fully committed to taking his exit. You never would have known- wondering why he had left you still. Wondering why you couldn't do more for him, why you couldn't be the hand that delivered mercy for him.

Or at the very least have been the hand that held him through it all.

Seeing him like that, you also couldn't help but wonder if this has happened before. Had he really been so close this entire time? Just merely struggling with the courage to be and exist around you?

When he turned to face you, he didn't meet your eyes. He didn't even realize it was you standing before him. He's quick to flick his heavy hood over his head, eyes focused sharp onto the floor.

"Gi-hun?"

And suddenly he's a deer that's stopped dead in the glare of beaming headlights. Bewildered, off guard, his hands still shoved roughly into his pockets when he flicks his gaze up to meet yours. Your name tumbles off his lips in stammers.

"You look terrible." Your voice comes out much more... Deadpan than it had sounded in your head, but you can't stand the idea of him just walking out. You've got him now, you can't just let him go. "Come on, let me get my stuff in and you'll lay down."

You hope that the way you don't leave room for no convinces him to just stay with you. It's the easy route- let you slip that invisible leash over his throat and guide him into the warmness of your home. To be a creature that is cared for, sheltered and fed and sleeping easy, away from it all.

For a moment, he didn't follow, and that disappointing stone began to snowball into something larger in your gut, but then, step by step, he gave into you. He stood a foot behind you while you unlocked the door, this somber and uneasy presence over your shoulder.

It was like coaxing a beaten animal. Every movement calculated, slow. Every word something sweet and digestible.

He certainly must have been tired that night. By the time you were done putting groceries away, he had already slipped his boots off at the door and laid out on the couch, accepting the giving hand of slumber. You wished you could have spoken with him, but you couldn't imagine stripping him of this.

You spent the rest of your night watching over him like some sort of guardian angel. This omnipresent being hushing his qualms and drawing him in with whisper light touches and kind words. A bed of feathers, a head full of clouds.

When the sun rose and morning dew settled over your windows, you expected him to leave just as quietly as he'd came. The thrumming, erosive need of your own rest started to diminish your flame, but... he didn't leave. Hypnotized by the glorious sun, maybe, or content to watching birds flutter past your windows. The world wakes up around him. This is the first time in 8 months that you've seen him basked in daylight.

He was just as beautiful as you always remembered. Some of him had changed- he was a little skinnier, a little more hollow, but he was still him. The golds and yellows mapped the outline of him in shimmers, poured honey into those dark, autumn eyes.

Perhaps you had been wrong about the call of daylight. This felt safe.

"Good morning." You'd said, leaning your elbows on the table, overlooking him. "Sleep well?"

He actually spoke to you, that day. A simple and sweet sound. "I did. Thank you."

"You said you weren't gonna come back."

"I know."

"I'm glad you did." You swallow. He turns to look at you, brows knit in perplexion. "I've been worried about you, you know."

Infatuated, is more like it.

"Worried?" He says, like he cant believe it. Like he doesn't know the state of himself.

Or, perhaps unsure as to why you would ever bore concerns about someone as small, as insignificant, as him.

"Well, yeah." You push away from the table, turn away from him, using the excuse of preparing coffee as a means to escape his watchful eyes. Ironic, considering you spent almost all of your recent time together taking in every detail of him. "I was worried something had happened to you. Or that you weren't sleeping well."

"I haven't been sleeping well."

"I can tell. That's why you're here, right?"

"Yes. I'm sorry I worried you."

"Don't be. I'm just, y'know-... Like I said, I'm glad you're here. Makes me feel better."

He was quiet for a time.

"Thank you."

You turn to face him, almost expecting him to be standing with his coat in hand, ready to dip and escape the moment. Vulnerability, even despite using you as his watchman, was never something he enjoyed. Not then, not ever.

He's still sitting on the couch. You jump at the chance to keep him around, even if it's only for a few extra minutes.

"I'm making some coffee, I'm gonna make you a cup."

Once again, there is no room for no. He doesn't fight you.

What a lovely feeling that was.

Exhaustion was a cheap, cheap price to pay for his company.

-

You became his routine. This steady and true piece of him, all comfort and no worries. Silence was a virtue that went understood and, at times, appreciated.

He couldn't say, and you didn't have the bearings to ask. You didn't even know where to start. So you let him into your domain and offered up the few things you did have: a warm home, a comfortable couch. Sometimes you made him tea, sometimes you made coffee. Sometimes he slept through the night bearing thrashing slumbers. Sometimes he murmured named you didn't recognize.

Sometimes he didn't sleep at all, but still regarded your very soul next to him enough to charge his lethargy. You gained nothing except he, himself.

Color began to return to his face over the weeks. He even smiled at times and the way he sighed out something dripping in relief after he'd walk into the barrier of your home was reward enough.

Staying longer was a slow, slow tumultuous process, but when it was done, it was done. And it was perfect. You made time for him- real, safe human companionship. Words would never do justice the thickness growing between you both, filling the gaps and the crevices until there was no space left at all.

With time, your own sleeping schedule had become so twisted you rarely found the ease to sleep at all. So willing to watch him, so willing to stay up with him if he decided that day was as good as any to linger. You gave it all for him- your time, your kindness, your softness so reserved but ready for him.

Gi-hun had become your routine jus as much.

You began to fall asleep with him. You'd sit on the couch upright, tip your head back against the plush cushions and he'd curl up next to you, resting a pillow between your legs and his head. Sometimes you wished he wouldn't.

Let me cradle you, let me hold you. Let me take this all away.

When his dreams turn into darkness that threatens to swallow him whole, you pet down his hair and stroke your thumb over his angular cheekbones, and oh, how he sweetens up. How those hard, jagged edges soften into mounds, soothed by the very touch of you. Oh, how your heart would swell. Flutter in the cage of your chest and try to break free, burrow it's way into his own chest and beat for him.

When he would rise with the early sun, there would be these moments, these fleeting moments, where you would catch the pieces of him shimmering in the golden haze.

Bits of him would poke through that endless sky of ravenous clouds, fingers clawing and tearing and dragging until, if even more a moment, he could see you on the other side. Like sun blitzing through the storm, these great halo's of light that shone over you like the finest of golds.

But then it would all come crashing over him all again. Those beautiful lights would suffocate with the weight of his demons, and he would tuck himself among the noise, hiding.

Lonely in that heaven of his, shutting the gates just before you could find yourself slipping through.

Like two magnets drawn so fiercely, pulled in this undeniable gravity, just as equally shoved apart when the friction threatened to become too much.

Let me in.

He still, even now, clams up whenever you'd try to pacify those tensions, raw and flayed to the very nerve.

The split ends of him would gather and settle at the very tip of his tongue. You don't understand the bear trap, the lingering look in his eyes when he is desperate to tell you but just can't find it himself to spit the damn words out. He's reaching through the void, searching for you despite sitting a merely foot away. Perhaps he's afraid to let you in, because, to bring you in would be to share the grief. And he could never do that to you- his safehouse. He companion. Something untouched and undisturbed from the dirty paws of his inner monsters.

The little pieces of him that chipped off like rust and scattered over your touch were always that of guilt. That was the center piece of him- a great table cloth stained in remorse you couldn't quite put your finger on.

What have you done, Gi-hun?

What have they done to you?

One night, when the words that left his tongue were too heavy to burden, he'd told you that he was sorry. Sorry, for making you be this necessity for him.

"You shouldn't have to put up with this." He'd said, with eyes that refused to leave his lap. Refused to see you beside him. You just touched his shoulder gingerly, reminded him that you were there, you would always be there.

"I don't have to. I love putting up with you."

"You don't deserve this-... this work.

"It's hardly work."

"It is. It's rotten work."

Gi-hun's eyes were far away, and so you drew him back to you, watched those beautiful irises take you in. Right next to him. Your hand the beacon of light guiding him through the dark seas, the hand that leads as it touches his arm. So small in nature, so significant in meaning.

"Not to me," You whispered, and you could see him in his expression, your Gi-hun. "Not if it's you."

-

Tonight he's smoking out on the balcony by the time you're finished with a shower. He should be sleeping- catching up on the rest he always sought to capture in his hands, always evading him without you, for some reason. The moon is high, the stars are twinkling. It's a gorgeous sight if not for the fact that he's out there in a t-shirt and it's freezing. You pluck his blanket from the couch and slide the door open, cringing at the cold air.

"What are you doing?" You sigh, tossing the blanket over his shoulder.

"Thank you." Gi-hun takes a long drag from his cigarette and clutches the blanket to himself with his other hand, as if only just now realizing how cold he was. Smoke and hot breath leave him in great plumes of grey that swirl into the night. Snowflakes dot the balcony railing and catch in his hair.

The wind is so cold it's almost freezing your soaking wet hair, but you couldn't imagine leaving him out here alone.

You sit beside him on the bench. "...Can I stay out here with you?"

Gi-hun nods. It's silent for a long time between the two of you, this comfortable, pleasant energy mounting in the gaps between your bodies. It's a feeling you've gotten used to, one that you've come to appreciate the sparing times you get it.

You could do this forever, you think. Just enjoying the existence of him.

"Your hair."

You blink at him, and he's looking at you. Really looking at you. He reaches out and gently catches frozen strands on his fingers.

"You should go back inside. It's too cold out here." And then he's holding his cigarette between his lips so he could pull the blanket from around his shoulders and toss it over yours instead.

"We should both go inside." You're both shivering messes. He doesn't answer right away, but he puts his cigarette out in the ashtray before leaning his elbows on his legs. You reach out and tentatively touch at his arm. He doesn't immediately- pull away like he's had before, always so scared of the touches, so you take it further. Little steps here and there. Always testing the waters of him.

You trace your thumb over his knuckles. He watches you with this delicate expression, pliable and tinted. Gentle, you take his hand into yours.

"Let's go inside."

It's not so much of a command than a plea. But he takes it as one anyways and lets you bring him to his feet. He stands a whole head above you but moves like you're carrying him, leaning into you ever so subtly. There's something different about him tonight. He's willing, not fighting the way you're taking care of him. The hard lines of him are blurring just enough for you pass right through them. The gates of him are opening with splinters of light striping your fingers.

A sense of him that he's ready, maybe, to topple over and spill all of his guts onto the hardwood floor right before you.

You bring him to the couch and he sets himself down gently beside you. For a time, you're both silent, but you're still holding his hand and he's still letting you and his eyebrows are drawing into these pensive lines that you cant stand to see anymore.

Stop thinking. Stop worrying. Look at me.

"Gi-hun." You whisper.

Look at me.

His eyes don't tear from their hold forward, unfocused and far away, that lucidity of him slipping through your fingers like sand.

Please, look at me.

Your hand leaves his so you can gingerly move his face to look at you, your fingers catching his jaw, barely, just barely begging with your actions for him to just look at you. He doesn't fight you. His eyes finally meet your line of sight and he's clearly struggling with something deep, deep within the confines of his very soul. Lines of guilt, traces of shame, short shallow breaths of apprehension.

Why are you so afraid of me? When you are so lonely?

Oh, there's tears forming in his eyes. There is something different, tonight. You bring your other hand up to catch the other side of his face.

Let me fix this. Let me help you, fix this.

"Gi-hun."

There you go, finding pilled tears gathering at your waterlines all the same. Sapping the emotions from him, feeling for him. An extension of him. All these feelings flowing through you like a trickling stream turned into roaring rivers. His expression falls all over again like its his fault. There is so much of him underneath it all and you want to drag it out, you want to save him in a way he never thought he'd have again.

He swallows hard, struggling to gag down the emotions threatening to spill out.

His skin is soft under your palms. Smooth. You want more.

"Let me in." You whisper. "Talk to me."

Your fingers are holding him so sweetly in your grasp, taking the weight from him, thumbs rubbing gentle circles into the sides of his cheeks. Any moment now, you're sure he'll back away like the frightened animal realizing it's been ensnared. He always does, with shameful eyes and guilt eating away at him in droves, unable to cope with himself and unable- unwilling to let you help him.

The old him would nip at heels for a scrap- a beggar, a taker. But not anymore. He wouldn't let you in the way a wild animal wouldn't feed from your giving hand.

You want so much more of him. You want to pull him from the fire that lapped up every bit of life he had left to offer. You gently pull him into you, a winged hug.

Gi-hun doesn't answer you.

But he lets you bring him in. He buries his face into the cradle of your neck and he breathes so, so deeply that you're sure it must hurt his lungs to finally suck air so real that everything else must feel stale in comparison. His heart is thrumming like a drum against you and it reminds you that he's alive, reminds him that he's alive, and moving under your skin and letting out quiet breaths into your warm flesh that lights you on fire.

Was this was the way in? Gentle hands, a cooing voice, arms that could never seem to hold him tight enough?

You would do it for a lifetime. Whatever he wanted, whatever he needed.

"It's okay."

He gives in. Falls into you like Icarus seeking the fiery hot glow of the sun, unfurls himself and clutches you like you're the only thing keeping him tethered to this life. Like you're the only thing worth being tethered to.

Tears are stinging your eyes, your lower lip is trembling something awful. He's right there, everything you've been praying for, longing for. Shaking into shattered bits and pieces right in your very arms.

Fall apart, I will rebuild you.

When he drags back, you re-find the sides of his face.

Don't go, don't go.

He's looking at you with raw, real emotion. Simmering embers flaring into open flames when his eyes meet yours, fingers that seem to try and find their way into the very being of you. He's flicking fervent glances from your lips to your eyes- you can't take it anymore.

Give it all to me.

You drag him down to kiss you. And he, despite himself, let's you.

He braces himself with one hand on the backrest of the couch behind your head and let's you take him in. His other arm is caught in the air, hovering just above your arm, so desperate to touch but so afraid to break this perfect, perfect moment.

Always thinking. Always hesitating.

You lean into him, deepen the kiss and drag him into you, clashing like those magnets, all hands and shifting bodies. Finally that broad hand finds you, the knuckles grazing your shoulder up to your neck, to the curve of your jaw. He rests it there, holds you, cups you like a precious thing to him. All those frustrations are spilling from him in the form of pensive brows and sighs against your lips.

You drink them in, greedy and hungry to take, take, take.

Give it all to me. Let me carry it for you. Let me breathe you in and never breathe you out.

The hand he braced himself with twists into the fabric of the couch. You lick into his mouth and fuck, he lets you. Make's a small noise in the back of throat that makes you shiver. He's moving in tandem with you, this timid game of push and pull until it flames into something far more fervent.

Let me give you this.

You make sweet sounds to spur him on, and it seems to work. He's losing his edges, he's finding himself through you.

It takes only one swift nudge at his chest for him to fall back onto the cushions, head nestled on the arm rest, one leg slung over the edge of the couch and the other outstretched underneath you. He looks perfect like this, kiss-drunk and running on pure devotion. All else non-existent except you.

"Gi-hun," Your voice reaches him in a whisper, barely able to be heard at all. His breaths are leaving him in shallow pants, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Spotlighted under the focus on him, so drawn to you, so full of you, that you could see yourself in the mirrors of his beautiful eyes. When you lean down to kiss him again, capture him into you even further, he props himself up on his elbow to meet you there.

Straddling his hips came as natural as the tide reaching to the moon. And his hands come to find you equally as instinctive- but he thinks too much into it- hesitates all over again just an inch or so above your skin. You break the kiss only long enough to settle them onto you, your skin warm against his palms from underneath your thin night shorts. He breathes out something strangled and fond. Looks at you like you put the stars in the sky one by one, just for him.

You would if you were able to. Just to show him, just to prove how much he meant to you. Show him something better, kinder.

Gi-hun, in all his devastation, had fallen so far from the the light that he truly never believed there would be sunlight ever again. He would always be this buried, maimed creature. But he finds it in you, this glowing angel that unfurled great, great wings and carried his damned soul from the pits of hell. He finds it in this, his beating heart, your gentle voice, his fingers shaking but they search for you all the same.

You let them find you. Let them drag along your warm skin. You lean down to kiss him once more and he's all too greedy to take you in, one of those hands placed on your hips reaching up to hold your jaw and keep you there. He needs this. He needs you. Even if he can't find the words to tell you, he needs you.

You kiss life into his very being, breathe the air back into him. He's getting antsy, he's starting to squirm, that emptiness in him replaced with something of heat stricken substance, a fire coaxing and drawing.

More, more, more.

Flushed, skin warm and twitching under your wandering touches. Brought back to life by the taste of your lips and the seeking touch of your hands slipping underneath his shirt. 

[thescarletnargacuga]

Art: @iamespecter

CHAPTER TWO

Racing AU

After the excitement of the track wears off, Pomni's situation sinks in. She's trapped. The others try to make her feel welcome and introduce her to Kaufmo. What could go wrong?

WARNING: angst, abstraction, some violence

Ch1

The racers all filed into the garage as the NPC audience cheered their last. Caine joined them inside and snapped his fingers. All their karts teleported inside to their respective part of the open floor plan garage. There was a spiraling metal stair case to a second floor loft that lined the outer wall. Every upstairs door lead out to overlook the garage. To the far right was a lounge with comfortable looking couches and chairs and recreational activities; such as pool and table tennis.

Pomni wiped the last of the confetti off her shoulder as she looked around. "Is this...all there is?"

"Of course not!" Caine chimed in before anyone else could answer. "In between races you have full use of the practice track! Take a look!" He opened the blinds and the outside looked different. The start line was the same but the stands where empty. The track no longer led underground but instead continued to curve around the garage and looped back to the start in a perfect oval. "And inside, you can play mini games with your new friends!" Pomni stared at the others with uncertainty. "Also!" Caine pulled Pomni by the hand to an empty kart area of the garage. "You can customize your kart! Everything from the engine and tires to the body and paint! The only limit is your imagination!"

"And the game's source engine." Jax added. "I've already tested that. He won't let you add more that five accessories to the kart or you end up clipping into the void."

"The...void?" Pomni paled.

"Now, Jax. We needn't bring THAT up. It's nothing to concern yourself with, my dear. There are many safety features in place to prevent that from happening. I can assure you, as host, I've never lost anyone in the void. I know all your positions at all times thanks to my wacky watch!" Caine proudly showed the small purple TV on his wrist. Six blips appeared on screen.

Caine tapped his watch. "Huh...Welp, I gotta get going! The tracks don't generate themselves! I've got to prepare for tomorrow's race! Speak to one of our Bubble assistants if you have any more questions!" Then with a pop, he was gone.

Pomni took a step back and rubbed her arms as she looked at everyone still staring at her. "Look, uh... The race was fun, but...how do I...leave?"

The others looked down or away from her. None of them wanting to be the one to tell her.

Jax groaned incredulously. "You can't. None of us can."

"Jax!" Ragatha scolded. "Why do have to be so tactless!?"

"Because there is no tact when it comes to telling someone they're stuck in digital purgatory for all of eternity, Ragatha!" He got nose to nose with her and they glared at each other.

"Please, don't fight." Gangle whimpered.

"Seriously. Will you two get a grip?" Zooble rolled their eyes and looked at Pomni. "He's right though. Welcome to your new home." Zooble then went to the pinball machine in the lounge.

"What? Why can't we leave? I don't understand. Isn't this just a game?" Pomni felt he face again for the headset she barely remembered she had on before appearing here.

"It was supposed to be just a game..." A quiet voice came from the lounge. Kinger had turned the couch cushions and pillows into a fort and was securely inside it. "People were never meant to be stuck here. Something went wrong."

Pomni got closer to the fort. "What went wrong?"

Kinger popped his head out. "What went where?"

"You'll have to excuse him." Ragatha sighed. "He's been here the longest."

"That's why he's crazy!" Laughed Jax. "That's all our fates, Pomni. Giving into the madness or being broken by it."

Ragatha grabbed a pillow and chucked it at Jax. "Go be a nuisance somewhere else!"

"My impenetrable fortress!" Cried Kinger as the missing pillow left a hole in his carefully made fort.

"Fine. I've got better things to do anyway. Like eat. Hey, Bubble chef!" Jax walked off to a table set for dining and a Bubble appeared to assist him.

Gangle got the pillow Ragatha threw and fixed Kinger's fort.

"Thank you." Kinger sighed with relief and disappeared inside.

Ragatha put a gentle hand on Pomni's shoulder. "Look...being here isn't so bad. Caine keeps us busy and we have each other." She glared at Jax. "For better or worse. There's one person you haven't met yet, he wasn't at the race today. Would you like to come with me to check on him?"

Pomni had been out of it as she really processed her situation. No way to leave. Stuck in digital purgatory. Forever. She could never go back to the life she had. Everything and everyone she had known didn't matter anymore. She vomited.

Ragatha jumped back to keep from stepping in it, but kept her hand on Pomni. She gently steered Pomni to the stairs. "Come on, Kaufmo will cheer you up. He's very good at it. Clean up!" She called out and a Bubble appeared.

"I'm on it!" The Bubble proceeded to lick up the mess. Gangle was nearly sick herself witnessing it.

Ragatha and Pomni went upstairs and walked along the long loft towards Kaufmo's room.

"Ragatha...I'm confused. Why participate in the races at all? Why not search for a way out? Are we really sure we can't leave?" Pomni said quietly.

"You aren't the first person to search for the exit, many have tried. None have succeeded." They walked past door after door. Many blank but a few had faces. Unknown faces with red Xs painted over them. "We all looked for a way out at some point or another, but we've come to accept our place here because ...well, constantly pursuing an unobtainable goal will drive you to mind breaking insanity. And when you've reached that point...there's no return."

"[@#$& !¥π∆]" Pomni muttered, the cartoonish sound effects not phasing her this time.

"...I know." Ragatha frowned and knocked on the door to Kaufmo's room. No answer. "Kaufmo? Hey, you in there? We got a new racer today! Wanna meet her?" No answer. "Huh, maybe he's not in his room?"

BOOM!

Something large and heavy hit the wall in front of them. It shook the building and got the attentions of those still downstairs.

BOOM!!

The wall around Kaufmo's door started to crack. The door itself buckling from impact.

BOOM!!!

The door flew off the wall, Ragatha and Pomni dove out of the way, missing it by inches. The door hit the railing and fell end over end to the ground floor with a loud crash. The girls looked up at the emerging creature from the broken doorframe. A beast of indeterminate dimensions snarled as it's many eyes look wildly around in their sockets.

"What is that!?"

"Remember that whole 'point of no return'? This is it! Run, Pomni!" Ragatha took off down her section of the railing. Pomni turned on her heel and ran the opposite direction. The beast tried swiping at them both, causing it to flop on the railing in front of it, crushing it. The beast roared and randomly chose to go after Pomni. Those on the ground could only watch as Pomni circle the building trying to get to the stairs.

"What's happening!?" Gangle screamed, hiding behind Zooble.

Zooble looked up in horror as they connected the dots. "Kaufmo...no."

Jax sat under the dinner table with the stack of pancakes he ordered. He sighed and took a bite. "Here we go again."

Pomni made it to the stairs before Ragatha and slid down the railing. She fumbled the landing but kept running to the door that led outside. The beast caught Ragatha at the stairs and smashed her against the wall. The janked nature of the beast made Ragatha glitch. She screamed as she was thrown around again and again, eventually being tossed over the side and landing hard on the garage floor.

The beast jumped with the intent to crush Ragatha, but Gangle's ribbon grabbed her leg and pulled her free of the impact zone. The beast came down hard and broke the floor, textures started glitching in and out.

"In here! Quick!" Kinger opened his fortress and beckoned Zooble, Ragatha and Gangle inside. They hunkered down and held each other as they heard the beast get up from its fall. It roared and started smashing at an outside wall.

"Pomni is still out there!" Ragatha was barely understandable through her glitched speech pattern. "We have to help her!"

"No! Stay out of sight. Safe." Kinger stuttered out. The bashing and crashing of the abstracted Kaufmo brought back too many memories. He curled himself in the fetal position and stared at nothing.

Zooble pulled off one of their eyes and used it to discreetly peak out. The beast was trying to break though the wall where the entrance door was. They looked around and saw Jax still under the dining table, just finishing his pancakes. "He's right. Caine's never gone for too long. We have to wait this out. ...like last time."

"And the time before that and the time before that and the time before that-" Kinger repeated.

Gangle held Zooble's hand. Despite her best brave face, she was shaking. "It's Kaufmo, isn't it?"

Zooble nodded.

Gangle started to cry. "I didn't think it'd be him next. He was always so...so..."

"Happy? Yeah, hate to break it to you, but if someone is happy all the time...they're not." Zooble put their eye back and held Ragatha's glitching hand. It made their own arm glitch but they bared the pain to be of some comfort to Ragatha.

BOOM!!

The building shook as the beast made it outside. It saw Pomni making a break for the stands and charged. Pomni ran as fast as her new little legs could go. She could see an entryway inside the stands, maybe she could hide there. Over her shoulder, she could see the beast gaining. Not looking ahead, she ran into the door and fell on her ass.

She scrambled for the door handle. The beast was nearly upon her and WHAM! She made it though the frame just in time. She got to her feet and ran in any direction away from the door. She saw some stairs with a sign that read "Announcer Booth" and she bolted up them. The higher she went the more the textures around her started to de-load.

"For [✓√@&#] sake, how tall is this tower??" She huffed. She took a moment to catch her breath when she finally made it to the top and took a look around. She wasn't in any kind of tower, in fact, it looked like she wasn't anywhere at all. Blank gridded walls and ceilings went as far as the eye could see. Unused textures and assets sparsely dotted the landscape. Peices of half built track hovered unsupported. Obstacles still in the process of being designed.

"Pomni? What are you doing here??"

Pomni screamed at the top of her lungs and swung around to see Caine hovering just feet from where she stood. Tie loose, cane, top hat, and coat missing, he looked as though he'd been very busy and she interrupted him.

"I realize you're new around here, so you didn't know, but I don't like people seeing my unfinished work. It's...well, a bit embarrassing." He cleared his non-existent throat. "You'll get a front row view of my latest creation tomorrow, I promise! I'll just send you back now."

"WAIT!"

Caine paused mid-snap.

"There's a thing outside! It attacked us!"

"Attacked? No enemies should be in bounds this late in the day."

"No, No! It was the guy! The UHHH-" Pomni struggled to remember the name in panic.

Caine gave her a look. "The 'guy'? Really now, if you just wanted an excuse to stay up here, you could have just said so. I do have a few mostly completed projects I suppose I could show you-"

"NO! THE GUY! THE CLOWN! THE- THE- KAUFMO! That's his name! Kaufmo turned into some beast and is breaking everything! He hurt Ragatha!"

"Kaufmo abstracted!? Why didn't you say so!" He grabbed Pomni's hand and teleported with her to the starting line. There they saw the beast still bashing it's head(?) against the door to the stands. He snapped his fingers and the monster started to levitate.

"Into the cellar you go." A pit opened as Caine lowered the beast down.

Pomni was floating with Caine and the pit opening made her grab his arm tightly. She watched the beast that was Kaufmo fall down into the darkness, his roar sounding like a pitiful wail as the pit closed.

"Well...that's that." Caine's usual boisterous voice came out somber as he looked down where the pit had been.

"How many times has this happened?" Pomni asked, her voice raspy from screaming.

"Too many times." Caine left it at that as he snapped his fingers again and the damage to the buildings repaired. He teleported inside with Pomni to check his charges.

"Caine! About [@#$&!] time!" Zooble grunted as they fought to keep their own composer, helping Ragatha out of the pillow fort.

"Oop-" Caine snapped his fingers and they were normal again. He then floated down to let Pomni touch solid ground again. "Sorry about that, everyone. I was looking for Kaufmo initially, his signature wasn't coming up on my wacky watch, but then I...you know, got distracted. So much work and only so much me to handle it all." He laughed nervously. "Speaking of which, I really need to get back to it. Big race tomorrow! Rest up, my little superstars!" He poofed away.

A heavy silence fell over everyone. They looked at each other, shaken over when just happened. The building was completely repaired, even Kaufmo's room. No signs that someone abstracted. Like it never happened...or mattered.

Jax stretched as he stood up from the floor. "Uuuuugh! Finally. I was tired of sitting under there."

Ragatha saw red. She stormed over to Jax and smacked him hard enough to echoe through the garage. "What the [@#$!] is wrong with you!? Kaufmo just- he- how can you take this so lightly!?" Tears burned her unbuttoned eye.

Jax rubbed his face but otherwise didn't flinch from Ragatha. "How can you take this so seriously? It's not like it's the first time it's happened. And it won't be the last." He looked down at her. "I'm going to bed, unless anyone else wants to smack the [@#$&] out of me?" No one looked at him so he pocketed his hands and went upstairs.

Ragatha broke down into sobs. Gangle tried to comfort her. Zooble couldn't handle any more and left to their room. Kinger was politely putting all of the pillows back to her original places. Pomni went to him.

"Hey, uh...Kinger, right?"

"AH! Oh, hello, didn't see you there." He yeeted the pillow he was holding when he got startled so he clasped his hands together in front of him.

"The... Kaufmo thing-"

"Abstraction." Kinger said flatly.

"Uh, yeah...how many times has it happened?"

"So many times. So many friends. So many-"

"Give me a number. Please." Pomni tried to disguise her frustration with a smile.

"Eight people started the race. Then there were seven. Then six. Then seven. Then six. Then four. Then five. Then eight. Then seven. Then six. Then five. Then six. Then five. Then six. Then seven. Then six." Kinger started to shake in place, his eyes bloodshot.

Pomni took a step back. "Yeesh, maybe you are just crazy." She looked to Ragatha and Gangle having a cry over Kaufmo. She felt awkward possibly interrupting so she went upstairs.

She followed the doors. So many Xs. So many "abstractions". Was this really their fate? To play some game forever or risk falling apart? Her mind raced as she finally saw a door with her face on it. It's big, pleading eyes staring back at her.

"I'm getting out of here. Death would be a kinder fate than this." She took one last glance at the X'd doors and went inside her room.

~~~

Ch3

[dinoshimaaa]

some day, someone will like me like i like you. (pt 2)

this damned feeling. a curse laid upon him for all of eternity. unescapable, tormenting, torturing. first it was disappointment he felt in himself for succumbing to it. but that feeling of shame was soon washed away by the bliss that accompanied the fluttering feeling in his chest, its intensity so strong that it overpowered every other emotion in him, to the point that he only ever thinks and feels of you when you are near. what a shame that you do not feel the same. (feat. wanderer, tartaglia, lyney, gn! reader) (pt 1 here)

or: their heart will always be yours, but you…

(p.s. scara for @seveninchesfrominsanity 😎 and gingey for my best boro @souglias 😍 good luck to everyone on their child pulls!!!!!!!!)

(p.p.s. 8 year-old tartaglia refers to reader as a princess once, but it’s gender neutral otherwise + archon quest and lyney story quest spoilers)

-

the wanderer of sumeru is all but lovely. he is “hat guy”, the mysterious vahumana scholar who showed up out of nowhere just days ago, already gathering an infamous identity for being scornful and anti-social. he is lesser lord kusanali’s assistant, a thinly veiled title to mask the fact that he is a prisoner under her watch. many do not know him because he refuses to work in the spotlight, much like the acting grand sage, and those who do don’t always have the best impression of him.

and even lesser truly know of where he had come from: his mother who is raiden ei, his origins in tatarasuna, his affiliation with the fatui, his obsession with the electro gnosis, and what he once was to sumeru: a false god, a monster, the near-cause of the land of wisdom’s destruction.

but the lack of something will always be attracted to an abundance of something. you are nothing but lovely; the loveliest, if anyone had to say. you are dazzling and you are beautiful, turning heads towards you when you walk the street. you are kind and generous towards the stray kittens on treasure street, and cheerful and easygoing with the store owners when you visit them. people sing praises of you everywhere wanderer goes, and to say he hadn’t had his own experience with you was incorrect.

he remembers himself fighting wave after wave of fatui soldiers, and himself slowly getting more exhausted by the minute, when you came in like a saviour angel from above, plunging on the last of enemies with your bow. he recalls your hits being barely a fraction of how hard he can slice through an enemy, yet when you assisted in defeating those annoying fatui back then, you turned around and asked if he was okay with the brightest smile imaginable.

(to the traveler or nahida, he would’ve given a sarcastic reply. to any ordinary civilian, he would’ve ignored them and been on his way. that day, he recalls being utterly speechless, while the rising sun glows behind your head, giving you a halo, illuminating your smile further. you are the most radiant sight he has ever seen.)

he seeks you out secretly like a stray cat following the only kind soul who fed it milk. sometimes, he watches over you in the air, making sure you’re safe. other times he just observes your interactions with others, ever so relieved to see that you are loved by sumeru just as much as you have shown its people love. more often than not he catches himself drifting off to a dream filled with you, being flustered and ashamed of such pathetic behaviour. but sometimes he also gets too lost in his thoughts, melancholy overtaking his face when he thinks of the shining star that you are.

wanderer’s hands are decorated with filth and blood. they show, sometimes, after an exhausting fight with the fatui. in his peripheral vision, hallucinations of that kid, that blacksmith, and the doctor come and go. in the dead of night, when sumeru sleeps soundly and all that is to be heard are the rustling of leaves in the wind, wanderer looks at his shaking hands and closes them in a fist, wiping them harshly, trying to rub off the sins stained on them. he is a terrible person to others. he is a terrible person to himself.

he is not a lovely person. you are the embodiment of ‘lovely’ itself. he couldn’t possibly deserve to be with you, lest his filth and sinful hands taint your pure being. it would simply be unconscionable for someone like him; damaged past, wreck and ruin, an empty soulless shell, to be close to your brightness. no one, not even himself, would forgive him if he were to ruin who you are: sumeru’s loveliest, the one who loves sumeru, and the one whom sumeru loves.

it is yet another night of watching you enter your house safely, staring at your front door for a few moments more before heading back to his residence (nevermind that he was the one to clear all the enemies in your path ahead, while you weren’t seeing). if nahida ever pointed out the lingering fond look in his eyes, or if the traveler teased him about having a possible crush on someone, there would be no need to blush madly and scamper away like a schoolgirl, for he knows that there is zero chance of “us” with him and you.

-

there are many fairy tales that are popular in morepesok village, most of which ajax have heard in his childhood many times. his distant memories include his mother, still youthful and full of smiles, reading him one of such fairy tales to lull him to sleep. he remembers her warm caress, the pulling of a quilt over his tiny body, and the soft flicker of the candle beside his mother, waiting to be blown out for the night. he also remembers you, his childhood best friend, his sleepover buddy, his other half, tucked into bed right next to him. if he searched hard enough, he might find some candid pictures of you and him, cuddled next to each other in the bed, in his childhood home.

“so then, the prince and the princess ended up happily ever after again?” 8 year-old ajax yawned, a sleepy smile on his face.

“they did, again,” his mother’s warm chuckle resonates throughout the room, through his ears, into his heart. he stores her laugh like a cassette tape in his memory, wanting to play it over and over again in the future.

“i can’t imagine a fairy tale where the prince and princess don’t end up together,” you murmured beside ajax, as his mother tucked the two of you in.

“that should be us, then,” ajax turned to face you and grinned, “so we’ll never be apart. let’s pinky promise that you’ll always be the princess and i’ll always be the prince!”

“why do i have to be your princess?” you complained, only to be shushed by ajax’s mother before she blew the candle out, signalling the end of pillow talk and the start of dreamland.

(all three of you knew it was impossible for you and ajax to be completely silent after lights out. the giggles that progressively get louder and harder after his mother leaves the room are testament to that.

this time, however, ajax is deadly silent, and you reach out to cup his face to ask what’s wrong.)

“sorry,” ajax holds the hand you cupped his cheek with. “you don’t have to be the princess, it’s okay. but i want to be your prince. i want to rescue you from the bad guys and defeat bad guys in your name. i’ll even do a pinky promise to prove it.”

even though you don’t give him a verbal answer, you hold his hand as he sleeps. it brings enough reassurance to 8 year-old ajax.

such peaceful times are unreachable now, ever since he fell.

ajax has not seen you for ten years. you have seen tartaglia for none.

when he returns, his familiar fluff of ginger hair in front of your doorstep, you have to do a double take. gone is the scrawny boy you knew, that got sick after every ice fishing trip, and cried over the smallest of scratches; in front of you now stands a fearsome harbinger, the tsaritsa’s vanguard, a killing machine with no life in his eyes.

(that is not ajax, any longer. that is tartaglia. that is a fatui harbinger. where is your ajax?)

you cannot bring yourself to smile when he presents you with a bouquet of pink roses, despite how beautifully preserved and fragrant they are. your heart doesn’t soften even when he greets your parents politely, plays with your siblings, cooks your family dinner, and helps with the dishes. that is not ajax whom you’ve let into your home, in contrast to what the rest of your family believes. that is a stranger who has intruded your safe space.

it hurts childe more than it hurts you to be on the receiving end of haunted eyes and hostile stares. he knows that he is vastly different from the childhood best friend he was to you ten years ago, and no matter what he does now, you will always see him as tartaglia, childe, the vanguard. you love ajax, but ajax is who he once was. ajax had been forced to throw himself away to survive. it wasn’t his fault that ajax is dead, but he cannot blame you for defiantly wanting your ajax back.

so when he kneels in front of you, the snowy wind feeling a lot more colder than usual, he ignores the way your hands tense when he holds it. he wants to cry when you attempt to pull your hand away even though he kisses it as gently as gentle can be. if an outsider were to witness this, they’d call this a romantic scene, between a prince and his beloved. but both you and ajax know that the fairy tale you yearned for in your childhood is completely unreachable now.

(“give me back my ajax.”)

(“i’m sorry.”)

-

to say that the great magician lyney is fully authentic in his shows would be a bit of a stretch, for he is an actor on the stage before he is a magician, however hard or long he may rehearse the day before the show. every smile had been sculpted and practised for hours until it was deemed perfect enough to be seen by his audience. needless to say, ‘the great magician lyney’ is merely a farce, an identity of its own. he wishes not to confuse that lyney with ‘fatui lyney’ and just ‘lyney’.

you were just supposed to be another face in the audience, an unsuspecting fellow he was meant to charm, attract, and never remember the face of. but you show up to a show once, then twice, then thrice, and soon you become a familiar face that lyney notices in the audience every now and then.

(that’s what lyney says, at least. lynette knows that he secretly seeks out your face behind the curtains, and the moment he finds you, his smile widens a tad bit, and his voice is a little cheerier as he steps out on stage.

by the way, since when did he start using rainbow roses in his performances? ugh, darn charlotte.)

but it is not easy to always be just ‘lyney’ with you, for he is called to be the great magician by day, and fatui by night. rarely is there time given to him to be his true self in front of you, to let the curtains fall and the farce fade. you can’t remember the last time he was allowed to let his shoulders slump, his face be bare of makeup, and his head rest under your chin as you kissed his tears.

and it seems you won’t be seeing those ever again.

lyney feels his blood run cold the moment father mentions your name in a mission, so casually, almost as if she had let your name slip out of her lips innocently and accidentally, if he hadn’t known any better. but lyney has been her loyal servant, her ‘favourite child’ for years, and he knows that the mere mention of your name is but a warning to him.

“i seem to be craving coffee recently. no one brews it quite as well as [name] does, i fear,” is what the knave says.

that person seems to be distracting you. i will eliminate them soon, is what she means.

lyney cannot afford to let anymore people close to him get hurt. his parents, who passed when he was very young… lynette, whose life had been endangered too many times to count… cesar, who taught him everything and treated him with love even in just ten days…

you shouldn’t need to fall into the same trend as well. your life is peaceful, precious, and untainted unlike his. so, it should remain untouched. and lyney decides that this is when he does what he has to do.

on the day that you return home and see lumidouce bells on your doorstep instead of lyney, you feel your heart plummet to your stomach. your gut turns and folds nastily, and stars increasingly flood your vision while a silent plea rings in your head, but there is nothing logical that refutes the contents of the letter that lyney had left you. that is all you have left of him.

the rest is to be expected. feeling betrayed and abandoned, you lose all feelings for lyney, not wanting to be associated with him again. his gifted trinkets left in your house are all thrown out. you can’t look at a magic show advertisement for more than two seconds. it takes only a little while to get over this heartbreak, but once you are fully free of all emotional attachment to lyney, you never think about him and his rainbow roses ever again.

lyney’s plan goes exceptionally well. of course it does; it was as meticulously planned as all his performances are. he returns to the house later that night to report back to father, submitting his response to her threats weeks ago: [name] is nothing to me now. hence, you cannot hurt them.

(however successful his plan was, he cannot bring himself to smile in response to the knave’s satisfied one.)

later, on the same night, when he slips out of the house, he finds himself wandering towards the place where he usually picks his rainbow roses from. a gentle pluck, a flick of his hand; a lumidouce bell takes its place instead. he smiles at his own trick bitterly, before pressing his lips to the blue flower and intertwining another rainbow rose with it. 

a moment of hesitation comes, followed by a few minutes of uneasy pacing, until lyney makes the decision to squeeze the petals with his gloved hand. the crumpled pink and blue petals fall to the ground. lyney only gazes as they do so.

(he wishes he could do the same to his own heart, but that is barely a fraction of how he made you feel. he will look for more ways to punish himself, then.)

[jayden-killer]

DREAMS ARE MY REALITY.

what would happen if your favourite fictional character appeared in your bed..?

Part 2

A/N: finally came back! Exams period is almost done, so I can mainly focus on writing fan fics and replying to your comments. Thanks to everyone who never stopped giving me support during these months.~ For this story I was heavily inspired by the "Reality" song by Richard Sanderson. Last night I watched "La Boum" and something clicked in my mind the moment the movie titles came by. I highly recommend that movie (and its main song!).

☆

Fantastic. Another day gone bad. Not only I lost my notes taken at university with great effort (who knows where they flew thanks to the wind...), but it had rained until the end of the afternoon and a careless car passed by at great speed, soiling me with rain and migo mixed together.

«Ugh! You fucker!» My feet stomped hard on the dirt, realizing that what had just happened was just the beginning of a long evening. I'll just open the front door, walk into the kitchen, and throw my comfort on the sofa that I look forward to.

It seemed like an eternity would pass on the way back, and my body barely even managed to walk, almost like a dead weight. Don't walk on the ground. That would have been the last straw.

«Shit,» I thought aloud, the moment my eyes saw my house from afar, «Finally home». Taking the keys out of the backpack was also, a real pain in the ass: a real tangle of wires and metal had formed there since my headphones had not been folded properly. A sigh escaped from my lips the moment I walked through the front door, searching with difficulty for the light switch. I didn't waste any more time removing the ruined clothes (and placing them in a water bath) and letting a hot shower melt my nerves. It was just what I needed.

I knew I had a smile as I lathered my body thoroughly. Now the scent of lavender was something calming.

``I should make some tea too``.

~

«Oh, now that's what I am talking about! ». My smile didn't leave my face, as I excitedly opened the book I had left hanging a few days ago, due to my exam period. Being under stress didn't help me find the concertation and desire to identify myself with the main character of the book. ``That's enough``. This thought flooded my mind. ``Now you can rest, because you deserve it, so enjoy your reading``.

``Thanks, other me, maybe you're right`` I replied to the little inner voice that I assumed had a satisfied grin on her face.

Yet my eyes fell on the mega poster that took up most of my bedroom wall: Miguel O'Hara. This man was going to be the death of me one of these days. I remembered the day when my heart wanted him only for me: in the new Spiderman, starring Miles Morales, many would have said that he was the perfect villain, even if I kept countering, claiming the opposite. Of course, his anger issues didn't help get people on his side. He was perfect in every aspect: tall, muscular, intelligent, thoughtful. My god, where do I have to sign to have him next to me?

«Too good to be true». I sighed aloud again as I pulled my attention away from the poster and back into my book. I think it wasn't long after I started reading and my eyes started to get heavy. I might have let go of the book, and fallen asleep with it on my chest. It had been a bad day in every way. Perhaps that is the reason I imagined hugging Miguel more than once. Maybe that's why I also felt my mattress getting heavier under my back.

~

I was awakened by the sun's rays penetrating through the curtains of my room. I loudly grunted at the thought of getting up early to do my daily cleaning chores around the house. But what harm would it have been to stay in my warm bed for at least an hour longer? Turning over, I had the feeling that my bed had gotten much heavier. Or was I still dreaming of hugging Miguel?

Slowly my eyes opened and focused on an unfamiliar figure lying next to me. I had a moment of confusion. Why...was there a person in my bed?

Only when I fully focused on who was in front of me I almost fainted on the spot.

"AAAAHH!" I grabbed the first pillow nearby, slapping the stranger hard several times, and leapt out of bed, the pillow still in my hands. The man, taken aback, tripped on the ground, and a great thud resounded in the bedroom. I hugged the pillow tightly to my chest. Oh, holy god. What was happening at that moment? I was so confused I could have sworn my face was as just as confused.

The man grunted aloud and scrambled to his feet, throwing his hands in surrender.

«What the fuck did I do?!» he yelled, in sheer confusion too. Maybe at that moment, I could have passed out, I swear to whoever you want! Because whoever I had in front of me was a real dream.

«Holy shit...»

«What?!»

I swallowed hard. «You are Miguel O'Hara. Miguel O'Hara was in my room, in my bed!»

[yuellii]

all of the girls you loved before

𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 ;; breakups weren’t always bitter, especially when she was still your friend. or, in which you catch-up on old memories with your ex girlfriend.

feat. navia, nilou, miko

notes. gn reader, short little drabbles of characters pulled from this poll !!

NAVIA.

“We had our first date here, didn’t we?”

Yes. And it was a Tuesday. Navia hated Tuesdays. Today was another Tuesday, and what should’ve been normal probably was a sour reminiscence in her mind. First date was always innocent—a Fontainian coffee shop the one time both of your schedules allowed it.

“We did,” she shortly replied. There was a pout in her voice, one that she hoped sounded as spoiled and passive as she hoped it would. But not one of her muscles could control the quiver in her lip as she spared you a glance, noticing how there was no longer a light in your eyes at this place anymore.

Did you stop fantasizing about this place? Did this cafe no longer make your heart dazzle at the thought of your first date? Was she really the only one who remembered it so clearly?

Your first date was on a Tuesday. Your next one was on a Saturday. Your first kiss together was on a Monday. She hated herself for remembering all of this, especially now that you’re no longer an item. And, she hated you more for not remembering any of this. But as she watched you bite into a pastry, the same way as you did all those years ago on your first date, she hated being your friend.

Those eyes of hers, ones she can never control: if you spared her a look for just a second, you could see the yearning in them. The love and loyalty that still came with her heart.

But on this dreaded weekday, the most she could long for now was an outing between two best friends.

Navia hated Tuesdays.

NILOU.

“Remember when we used to swing here in the early mornings?”

She found a smile making its way to her lips when your words reached her ears. “Yes,” of course she remembered. Those days when the sun barely knelt engaged to the sky, and the dew of the swing would wet the edges of her dress. A time when you’d still look at her with blooming dawn in your eyes and when whispered affections scattered upon the light air.

The sky was pitch dark now; which, sure, is totally blamed on the hour of the night. But it felt weird to sit here next to you when the sun was long gone. She’s only ever been here in the daylight, when your gaze would still shine like the dancer herself was sweet honey to your tea, or when your love was still sparkling in the dewy grass.

“Nilou? Nilou?”

She snapped out of her thoughts to see you looking at her from the adjacent swing. Your brows were furrowed in concern, but due to the light—or lack thereof—she saw only blankness. This was not concern out of love or passion, now replaced with a simple friendliness she came to hate.

“Sorry,” she sheepishly said. “I just miss those mornings.”

“We can have them again,” you proposed. “We can have picnics here and sit and swing like we used to.”

Don’t play with my heart like that. It was plain fully obvious you meant it as a friend—to only spend mornings here as friends, but never lovers, not anymore. She misses you, she thinks. You and your world that she was no longer a part of.

YAE MIKO.

“We met in the summer, didn’t we?”

She only hummed in affirmation. Summertime stung like a stick on her skin. And yet, that feeling when Inazuma gets humid and the sun shines eternal, she associates it all with you. She met you in the summer, and fell in love with you that same season.

She laughed. “We did, we did!” She teased you a bit, ignorant to the redness staining her own cheeks. “Why, are we going to be celebrating our anniversary together?” There was a taunting smile on her face, one that was nudging you on. But when all you did was playfully scoff and brush her off, she could not stop the sinking feeling in her chest. Curse the art of romance.

She didn’t like the way you just casually brushed her shoulder like that. So passively, like any friend would do. But it was worse when the missed the feeling of your fingers around her arm, holding tightly with past love and affections that were no longer there. No, she was just a friend now. No need for any strings or attached feelings.

You split ways on the winter solstice. How dreadful that was.

“Perhaps we should celebrate the anniversary of our breakup, instead,” you joked. You genuinely laughed. She genuinely hated it. Winter was cold. And when the cold came, there were only dark days as all her love ended in ‘goodbye’. Then when winter ended, springtime left her a broken vase pouring out her love from the cracks of her heart.

And if she could go back in time to love you again, she would.

[uwurakax]

ー　死神　♡

halloweenie vibes ig, and im probs not even gonna get one fic out for it ( lmaoo whats new ), so just for spoop, enjoy a smol sakusa drabble, bc i felt like being nice to him :')

(( trigger warning for wanting to unalive, but its not bad, prkmise ))

thinking about grim reaper!sakusa who always watches over you;

you both met centuries ago. where? he can't say. how? he doesn't know. why? he forgot those details long ago. he doesn't even remember his life anymore. what he did, his friends or even his family. but he feels a phantom pain when he thinks about them.. family. he thinks maybe he was close to someone once.. its only natural right? at least before he met you.

he does recall one thing however; you died.

he does relive that, and that pain is real. so vividly he remembers praying, crying out to whatever deity or higher power that may be out there to listen. to not take you away from him. how you never had enough time, and that you were taken too soon.

it was the first time he had cried.

he wouldn't, no, couldn't live without you. the haze and cacophony leading up to his final days as a man, as a human, are not a time sakusa likes to reflect back on. barely existing and the shell of the proud man he once was, he just wanted to be with you.

it was peaceful that day the day he decided to take his own life. it was warm, with the sun shining vibrantly and the gentle breeze to offer a soothing kiss on his skin. it was like you were waiting... happy to be reunited.

he never felt the chill of the ocean below, tripping off of the cliff he was determined to jump from and hitting his head. a show of mercy in the hell he had to endure from being parted from you. painless and quick.

sakusa felt weightless when he awoke. was he still alive?

no, he came to find that he was indeed successful. a voice surrounding him that was everywhere and nowhere at all all but confirmed his passing. it also confirmed it had heard his desperate cries and prayers over you. the voice didn't know why, but it was willing to answer sakusa.

it had the power to bring you back, but it would come at a price.

the higher power would grant you life, but sakusa would be cursed to be undead. a leader of lost souls for the unfortunate.. or perhaps fortunate? to guide them into the afterlife.

it didn't matter what he had to do, as long as you got to live. he all but readily accepted, unknowingly cursing you too.

for life, and existence has a balance. if sakusa was cursed with being eternally dead, then you'd be cursed with eternal life.

but one couldn't live forever of course, humans don't live forever. so the universe found a workaround.

you would live and die, again and again and again. forever reincarnating, just to live and having to die; and all sakusa could do was watch.

as he led more and more souls to find everlasting tranquility, he had to watch yours being forced away from him into a new life that would soon become you.

he was confused the first time it happened, watching your reincarnated first life be born and grow. how you became who you were when you were with him. he was content like this, watching you from beyond. as long as you got to live your life.

you married and had kids in that first life, and he couldn't help but wonder if that could've been you and him. how would life have gone for him if you weren't taken away?

he learned early on what exactly he subjected himself and inadvertently, you to.

no matter how many centuries ago it had been, it still never made it easier, and sakusa had soon come to grow cold and disdainful of the world. of everything, and with noway to undo it, he had to withstand it.

be forced to watch the love of his life live without him, and knowing he was the cause of her never being able to reunite with any of her loved ones.

sometimes you'd die young, too young that sakusa couldn't even beat to glance at your soul. other times you'd live a full and long life. he wished every life you had would be like that, and if he had to pull strings to speed up someones passing for hurting you? he was more than happy to oblige. scum didn't need to live, and he was more than happy to send them to the realm now coined as hell.

he didn't know why he kept up with this self torture, tormenting himself to being so close and yet so far from you. at least he never had to forget your face or your voice; the one constant that never changed.

and so he stood, across the road from the coffee shop you liked to frequent, watching as you lived your life; or at least this one. he could practically smell the pumpkin spice. the seasonal drink that became your favourite autumn beverage two lives ago.

you feel someone staring at you as you thank the barista for your drink, the warm takeaway cup heating up your hands. so you look outside the large pane windows, but nothing seems out of the ordinary.

through your entire life you've felt a presence around you, watching you. you couldn't explain it, but it always felt familiar. familiar and safe. like a guardian angel. as ridiculous as it sounded, you always felt like nothing bad could ever happen, but you couldn't help the sad sigh that spilled from your lips. you really wished you could know who was constantly watching over you.

sakusa didn't mean to come as close as he did, at least not while you were awake. he knew his very being emitted a bitter and crisp air. humans could sense death, even if they couldn't see it. a lost soul wandering the busy streets. sakusa lost his empathy long ago, for it died along with you, but he held is tongue and the urge to roll his eyes at the floating mass. it stopped at the corner of the coffee shop, and he made his way over quickly. practically teleporting, going through cars and people, sending shivers through them as he passed. he didn't care. the sooner he could deal and send the soul into the afterlife, the sooner he could be with you.

he hastily guided them, showing them the welcoming light as it faded away. he never saw it, but even he could feel the blinding affable glow when he led them there.

he was ready to go back across until he heard the recognisable sound of tires screeching. please don't let it be you!

a scene he knew all too well was occurring. it didn't matter how many times he saw it, a heartache felt only hundreds of times. it didn't stop him from trying. even if he tried countless times before, knowing the end result would be the same. sakusa would always try, for you, even knowing it was pointless.

so imagine his shock when he can feel you underneath him, a carnage of vehicles behind him and you looking up at him, actually seeing him whispering

"it's you"

[guppybibi]

It's For The Best

𖦹 pairing: Kiyoko Shimizu x fem!reader

𖦹 word count: 843

𖦹 content: angst, i think?? Gay, very gay. not proofread ! i also dont know how weddings work..

𖦹notes: haii im a little inactive yes, but i just turned 14 yibee !! also school is coming up on the 29th so yeah..

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･

Cheers to Kiyoko, my first everything. My forever first place, best friend, home and regret. To me, meeting you will eternally be a mistake; because you couldn’t be my first love. First and foremost, we’re both girls. I can say that much. Now I watch you, walking down the altar as your delicate white gown follows you from behind, leaving a trail of your scent. As if to say, Kiyoko was once here.. Every accessory in your hair, perfectly adorning your elegant face. Just as I remembered.

It only felt like yesterday, you were walking down the school corridors, making people turn back as you passed right through them. Karasuno’s goddess, that's what you were. You made everyone’s heart throb just by the mere glimpse of you, and I’m no different. I’m one of your victims. From the day you gracefully entered the classroom, introducing yourself; I knew I was doomed. At first I shrugged it off, the both of us were no match anyway. I was a rose, beautiful yet when you come closer to me–I’ll harm you with my sharp thorns. You were a lavender flower, feminine and proper. So I didn't start anything with you, but the way your mole made you look so mature, the way your silky hair shines when we're out running for PE..It had me captivated, I was stuck in your web of madness.

But the odd part about this, is that Kiyoko seemed to return the feelings; which was rare for her nonchalant behavior. At first, you believed she was leading you on or something–doing this for some kind of bet or dare. Over time though, you came to a realization that it wasn't. You were treated differently, Kiyoko was a lot more carefree around you.

One look from Kiyoko and you’d melt in an instant, who knew all it took to tame a wild tiger like you were a mere girl? You learned a lot of things from her during the time you've spent together, more than you’d like to admit honestly. From simple activities such as cooking meals, studying together and likewise. Those things were nothing compared to learning how to love though, but can it really be considered love? Two people of the same gender shouldn't be in love after all, it's basic knowledge.

That meant that both of you silently knew that the inevitable would come eventually, yet you ignored it and acted like it wasn't right behind you two. What felt like a nice stroll down the street, turned out to be something unavoidable chasing you two down.

That day did come, sooner than the both of you’d like. It flashes through the back of your mind as you watch her say her vows with the sweetest honey-like voice you've ever heard, unlike the tone she used to speak to you on that day.

“Why won't you understand me Y/N?! Please, stop this already! I still want my best friend to be my bridesmaid someday, so please behave yourself!” She pleads, her usual confidently smooth voice replaced with this hoarse one. The ravenette could barely see through her glasses as of the moment, her eyes glossy with tears. “I just don't get it! Suddenly Tanaka’s back in your life and you're leaving me for him?! I need closure Kiyoko, I deserve an explanation!” You shout back, biting your lips to prevent any tears from spilling out. “Fine, if an explanation is what you want then that's what you’ll get. I won't sugarcoat anything.”

Which is how the both of you ended up sitting on the curb of a nearby sidewalk, slightly calmed down. “Please listen to me Y/N..Tanaka can give me the life I want, he can give me a family; children of our own, biological ones.” She explains, and the truth did really hurt. You wanted nothing but the best for her, but why did the ‘best’ have to ache this much? You could barely even speak after her explanation, you knew it made sense but her words left a bitter and sticky residue on your tongue that prevented you from speaking any further.

You walked out on her that day, walked out of her life. You never expected to even be invited to her wedding, it came unexpectedly after receiving an invitation. To be fair, the grudge you held against each other was long gone. Yet it still felt strange to see someone you had loved so much before, see you get married to another. Doesn't it?

With one swift movement and a clutch to your handbag, you turned over and spoke. “Let's go home.” Your husband quickly tilted his head in confusion, unsure on why you wanted to leave so early. But he knew better than to argue with his wife here. “Sure, cmon.” You never told him about the ‘thing’ you had with Kiyoko. You know he deserves to but he can live without knowing, he won't die from it.

Well your first isn't always your last anyways, and it certainly doesn't mean it's the best..Right?

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･

[reki-of-the-valley]

Summer Time (Family) Madness

lmao it's been like 6 months since the last time the last revision. And like 2 and a half years since the end of this fic. But alas. At least I'm still working on the revisions. So here's an updated chapter 6!

First | < Previous | Chapter 6 | Next >

AO3 | Original Chapter 1  | Original Chapter 2 | Original Chapter 3 | Original Chapter 4 | Original Chapter 5 | Original Chapter 6

It wasn’t uncommon to find Langa hidden under the counter at DopeSketch. Normally, it was to avoid having to interact with any of the customers; Reki was just naturally so much better at the whole customer service part of their shared retail job. Now, however, Langa found himself more often than not with a book on his lap as he sat cross-legged on the floor. Now, he spent his shifts groaning about the homework that was assigned on summer break of all times. 

Thankfully though, DopeSketch really wasn’t the busiest shop in town. Langa could get away with his time wasted watching videos instead of reading his novel, or all his lost minutes staring at the same math equation. Barely anyone entered the little shop, and those who did never stuck around for more than a few minutes, browsing the few shelves of skateboarding equipment. So, during the shifts where Langa remained cooped up in the small shop, watching the sun beat down on the smiling people in the streets, he got to do homework. If he had to explain to someone what he was being paid to do, the most honest answer he could muster was that his paycheck covered the cost of someone playing the role of a babysitter for a store that most definitely would not up and run away. Or maybe he was being paid to keep his grades up since he had nothing better to do than work on his assignments.

It was a miracle Oka still gave him shared shifts with Reki. It didn’t take a genius to know that employing two best friends was not the ideal recipe for productivity, but maybe the man knew how lonely it could get in the shop. Maybe that was why he let the boys keep each other company during their long shifts. And that was what they did; even if they silently did their own separate thing, at least they had each other. As long as they were together, everything would be okay. As long as they had one another, the day wouldn’t feel eternal. And sometimes, a calm and silent afternoon was exactly what they needed. 

Langa groaned as he leaned back against the counter, tipping his head back in annoyance. He had tried, he had really tried to get a head start on his summer schoolwork. He had really tried to power through his assigned readings as fast of possible. He had tried to get it over with as soon as possible, but that determination was too good to be true. When it came to actually doing it, it proved itself much harder than anticipated. And Langa hadn’t been proud to admit that his reading skills could almost rival his handwriting. 

“I don’t get it.” His eyes fell shut as another sign fell from his lips. “Why do we need literature? What’s the use of old books no one cares about? Even in English, I sucked at it. I just…” The world reappeared before him, brighter than he remembered it to be just a few seconds ago. “I don’t get it! And I just don’t care!” 

A pen was clicked a few times as Reki hummed to himself. He must have been sketching in the margins of his notebook instead of doing the math problems he had said he would be doing. He had to have been; the pen strokes were far too methodical and repetitive to be that of writing. 

“I don’t know, man. Something about culture and it’s important we know about our past.” A smile broke across Langa’s face as he peeked out from under the counter just as Reki surrounded the last part of his statement with air quotes. “But I can help you if you want. But in exchange,” red hair fell to the side as Reki leaned over to get a better view of Langa, “you gotta explain to me our next English project. ‘Cause like, that man talks way too fast for me to catch a single thing he says. I’m pretty sure I understand those American sitcoms better than him, and I never know what’s happening in those.” 

Langa chuckled as he agreed on their deal. Reki would be helped with some English homework and Langa wouldn’t fail yet another written assignment; this friendship definitely had its perks beyond the whole having a friend thing. And it wasn’t even like Reki was exaggerating about their English teacher; the man really did speak way too fast. It also did not help that he had the heaviest accent Langa had ever come across, occasionally slurring his words and making it hard for even Langa to perfectly understand what was being said. But at least he had the advantage of being completely fluent, even if his grades didn’t always reflect that, which meant he could rely on the instruction sheet rather than the verbal expectations. 

Silence reigned once more in the little shop, both boys having returned to their individual activities. Quiet, methodical pen strokes echoed against the walls; the sound of rustling pages made its place in the song being composed in the little skateboard shop. It was quiet and relaxing, peaceful even. 

Langa had come to appreciate watching Reki work his crafts, be it doodling in the margins of his notebooks or his repetitive shaving of a board. Whether he knew it or not, he made the funniest faces as he concentrated on his work. Sometimes he would furrow his brow, leaning closer to the paper before straightening out to continue adding endless details to his drawing. Other times, he would stick his tongue out as if that was what helped keep focus on his work. And once he completed something he was particularly proud of, his eyes would glow with pride as he held his piece up to the light. That was the face Langa liked the most; it was the face of someone who was proud of themselves, and Reki deserved most of all to be proud of himself. He deserved to be proud of himself, to see himself the way Langa saw him. None of that frustration that would often overcome him as he would huff and rip the page out of his sketchbook or notebook. No more crumpling and tossing of masterpieces he simply could not see. If it were up to Langa, none of that would ever happen again, but for now, he would content himself in collecting Reki’s trashed art. Even if they weren’t up to Reki’s standards, they would always be works of art to Langa. 

Langa loved watching Reki draw. It was quiet and tranquil, a moment where Reki wasn’t bouncing around, talking with his hands, words stumbling over themselves as he went on and on. And as much as Langa loved Reki’s endless energy, he also deeply appreciated the calm moments they would share. But as with everything else, good moments must come to an end, the door chiming as a customer walked in. 

“Welcome to Dope— Oh, hey Emily!”

Langa perked up at the name. Emily? Why was she here of all places? Langa had purposely avoided telling her where he worked in hopes of getting away from her. Dope Sketch had been the only place Langa could go to escape the teasing remarks and those eyes that stared straight into his soul. It was the one place where he felt safe from her badgering questions about his oh-so-obvious crush on Reki. Work had somehow become his little slice of quiet heaven, and now that bubble had burst. Now, she had found him and his hiding spot. 

Reluctantly, Langa pushed himself off the ground only to smash his head against the counter and crash back down. He held the top of his head as she let out a whiney cry of pain. 

“Dude! Langa!” Amber eyes fell onto him, eyes filled with worry and shock. “What’s up with you and hitting your head lately?”

If Langa had known the answer, he would have told Reki. Or maybe he wouldn’t have. Maybe it was all those distractions, distractions disguised as the people hovering around him. Maybe it was Reki and just how absolutely distracting he was, be it while he would sketch, his face will with concentration, or when he would kneel next to Langa, his beautiful eyes still wide and filled with worry.

Between Reki and Langa, there was no doubt that Reki was the more accident-prone one. He was the one constantly sporting bandages for his sprained ankles and wrists. He was the one scraping his knees after wiping out from trying another new trick he had found on the Internet. He was always the one laughing as he fell on his ass, his board flying from under his feet. Reki was so much more the accident-prone one, at least when it came to skating. When it came to their daily lives, Langa was starting to believe he was the clumsy one, if the last two weeks were any indication. He was the one tripping over his untied shoelaces, eating pavement as Reki choked on his laughter. He was the one splitting his eyebrow open on a window frame in the dead of the night. He was the one smashing his head against the counter instead of greeting his cousin.

“Is he… Is he alright?”

Emily’s head poked from above the counter, her hair a curtain for the nook under the counter. She must have climbed onto the counter to see what mishap was happening away from her prying eyes. And given the frown that pulled at the corners of her mouth, she mustn’t have been proud of clumsy Langa.

A flood of memories washed through Langa at the sight. It wasn’t the first time she had looked down at him like this. Somewhere, somewhere long lost to the fog of memory, this exact situation had happened. But somewhere in those memories, there had also been smiles. A flash of a faceless childish grin. A flash of a girl hanging above his head. A flash of blond hair blocking the sun. Some distant chatter. A storybook. A treehouse. Grass. Laughter. Summer.

Reki pulled Langa from the floor, pulling him out of his impromptus trip down memory lane. He looped his arm around Langa’s waist, holding him tightly as if he were afraid that Langa would drop back down to the ground as soon as he would let go of him. Or maybe Reki feared that Langa had concussed himself; thankfully, that had yet to happen. A miracle, really. 

Langa let himself be guided towards the stool Reki had been using earlier. He let his body crash against the wood as soon as he felt it brush against his thighs. If Reki was asking him to sit, then Langa could not refuse. He could never refuse Reki, no matter what it was he was asking. He had learned that the hard way, and there was no way he was going through those torturous days without Reki ever again. No way, especially not when Reki was this close, squeezing his way between Langa’s knees, his rough yet soft fingers holding onto Langa’s burning cheeks. Especially not when he was letting Langa hold on to his waist as he steadied himself onto the stool. Because obviously he needed something to steady himself; otherwise, he would have risked falling again. And he couldn’t fall again. Or was it too late for that? 

Reki was so close. So fucking close. Langa could practically count the freckles scattered across his nose, his cheeks, his forehead, his ears… He could almost count every short lash of Reki’s. And he was talking so softly to Langa. His voice was just so mesmerizing, so magical. 

“How’s your vision? Do things look blurry?”

“Not more than usual.” A frown pulled at the corners of Reki’s mouth; so much for cracking a joke to lighten the mood. “My vision is fine if that’s what you’re asking. I see just fine. It was an accident; didn’t think I was that far under the counter.” 

 “And your head? Does it hurt? Do you feel dizzy? Do you feel like—!”

Now, had this been some teen summer romance blockbuster, then maybe Langa would have quieted Reki with a spontaneous kiss. And maybe that would have been the beginning of the best summer of Langa’s life. But Langa was no movie protagonist and, while he was gutsy, he wasn’t that impulsive. So instead, he simply tightened his grip on Reki’s waist, interrupting the boy’s panicked questions. 

“I’m fine, Reki. I barely bumped my head against the counter. I’ve dealt with far worse in the past and I’ve survived every one of those blows.” 

“You smashed your head against my window frame the other day! I don’t know dude, but that’s kinda worrying! You could be concussed or something! Like, it’s not normal or good for you to constantly be hitting your head! You’re,” Reki’s voice dropped, his eyes finding Langa’s, “you’re not lying to me, are you?”

Reki had never made it easier to smile. “I’m fine, I swear. And I’m not lying to you, I promise.”

Reki huffed as Langa held up his pinkie finger. A light chuckle fell from his lips as his hold on Langa fell away before returning, his own finger curled around Langa’s. A promise had been formed and sealed, a promise that could no longer be broken, at least according to the rules of pinkie promises. But that touch didn’t linger, Reki finally backing away from between Langa’s legs. 

“I’m getting you some water and you better not have moved when I get back, you hear me?” 

Langa scoffed but still gave Reki a curt nod. There was no point in arguing with Reki; if he had to tape Langa down to the chair to keep him from getting up and wandering around, then he wouldn’t hesitate to do so. So Langa knew better than to try to argue. He simply watched the boy dash to the backroom where their bags were stashed. 

It never took much for Langa to look absolutely smitten. All he needed was a door swinging shut behind Reki, leaving Langa hidden from judgement. All it took was that adorably serious expression on Reki’s face as he ran off. All it required was for Reki to be, well, Reki. Everything about Reki was enough to leave Langa floating, because Reki was adorable. Seriously, absolutely adorable. 

“He sure it touchy with you.” 

Langa jumped at the sound of the voice, having forgotten about the girl standing by him. She had since gotten off the counter, but still, she leaned over it, eyes also glued to the door. The English almost sounded strange, like a foreign dialect taking over a safe space. Emily’s presence felt wrong, as if she had no business being here, next to him. Her presence left Langa annoyed once more, the feeling tugging on his insides. Work had always been one of the places where it truly was just him and Reki. Sure, sometimes Manager Oka would pop in, but most of the time, it was just Reki and Langa. Most of the time, it was a space for just them, somewhere where no one could burst their little bubble.

Dope Sketch was one of the few places where Langa didn’t feel self-conscious every time he snuck a glance at Reki. It was the only place where he knew he wouldn’t be caught by anyone. It was the only place where he felt he could be so unapologetically himself, knee-deep in his feelings without the fear that someone would bring it up, tease him about, or worst of all, call him out on his dumb crush. Here, at work, it was a land that belongs to only Reki and Langa. 

“He’s just treating me the same way he treats his sisters when they get hurt.” Langa’s tone was sharp and dry, leaving little room for a retort from the queen of annoying. “Probably just his brotherly instincts kicking in or whatever. It comes naturally to him to be caring, y’know?” 

“Uh-huh, sure.” Emily clicked her tongue as she climbed back onto the counter to sit cross-legged on top of it. “You keep telling yourself that, Lover Boy.” 

Langa had gotten his fair share of nicknames over the course of his life. He had gotten used to being called a variety of names by the people surrounding him. Reki often teased him by calling him Prince Langa, a name which made no sense to Langa given that he was the furthest thing from a prince. His mother still called him her little man or her baby, which, the more Langa thought about it, were hilarious things to be called. And Emily had gotten into the habit of calling him whatever passed through that thick skull of hers, though she did tend to favor the twig insult. There had been so many names that had shaped Langa, but Lover Boy had never been one of them. Lover Boy was… it wasn’t Langa. It was a name for someone with confidence, someone who was a smooth talker, things that were definitely not Langa when it came to people. Those were things that left Langa’s inside squirming with discomfort. It was a name he wanted to run from, and the best way to do that was by completely changing the subject before Emily could ever bring it up again. 

“Hey, Emmy? Did we have a treehouse as kids?” 

Emily scrunched her nose as she turned towards Langa. Her brow was pinched, looking strangely at her cousin. “Yeah? Grandpa built it when I was 10, but had to take it down that same summer for some unknown reason, don’t you remember?” 

Langa shook his head with a shrug. 

“We spent nearly the entire summer in that tree. But why bring that up now? That’s so random.” 

Langa shrugged once more. He wanted to change subjects and had had a flashback right after hitting his head. It was random, but that was the thing with foggy memories: they reappeared at the strangest of moments. 

“Seeing you looking down on me reminded me of that summer, but I wasn’t sure if it was a real memory or just my brain making things up. It’s just… It’s all a little haze, like every summer memory overlaps. I can’t really tell what happened and when, except the really big events that often got us in shit. Like that one time everyone thought I broke my arm after I fell from a tree? The first time we were allowed to go to the park alone and got home like an hour after the set time? Or that time we accidentally splashed paint on Grandma’s carpet?” 

“Oh man! She was so pissed at us! The stain is still there, you know? Almost faded, but you can still see it if you know where to look. And like, I was so sure she was going to rip our heads off that day.” 

“Yeah, she was not happy about that one. But the treehouse…” Langa leaned back on the stool, careful to not tip over and crash once again. “The memory feels fake. It’s like I had made it up to give myself some resemblance of a real childhood.”

“But you did have a real childhood, Langa. Sure, it was maybe a little unconventional with all your snowboarding training and competitions, maybe a bit of a gifted kid childhood, but you did still have a childhood. Your parents still took you out to the park when you were a kid and weren’t such an antisocial mess.” Emily stuck her tongue out at Langa’s pointed glare, grinning at the low blow. “But for real though, you had a pretty normal childhood otherwise. Like your parents used to push you on the swings for hours on end when you were a baby. Apparently, you like those things so damn much that the only time you would cry was when someone took you out of your swing.”

Langa slumped down on his stool, ducking his head in embarrassment. The swings were one of those vague baby memories he still had. He had forgotten the whole of it, but he did remember the wind in his face and how much liked it. Still likes it, actually. That had maybe played a big part in why he had gotten into snowboarding in the first place. Maybe that was why he still loved skateboarding so much. All Langa wanted was to be able to fly.

“We spent summer after summer together, playing in the basement and outside and all around the grandparents’ house. And you even throw the biggest temper tantrum ever in the supermarket because your mom didn’t get you the cookies you wanted.” 

“I did not do that.”

Emily snorted at Langa’s defensiveness. “Uh, yes you did. Auntie Nanako even has the pictures to prove it and she showed them tome. Something about despite not being pleased with her yelling child, she needed physical proof of you being a total brat out in public so that if ever you have kids and want to kill them for screaming in a public place, then she’d show you that you were no better despite being the quietest, shyest kid ever. Something about every kid throwing a temper tantrum at the most inconvenient of times. And then you’d just have to deal with it and understand your kid’s point of view of some shit like that?” 

Langa bit the insides of his cheeks, not quite wanting to believe the story. His mother had always insisted that he had been an exceptionally easy child, though a little worryingly emotionless. He would rarely argue or cry, so the possibility that he had been an absolute monster in the middle of a supermarket because of a box of cookies, it felt wrong. It felt impossible. Out of character. Fabricated, especially since Langa didn’t like cookies that much. 

“But it’s not because you weren’t part of the popular group at school or that you didn’t hang out with the other kids at the park after class that you lack a childhood. Childhood is… It’s a lot of things. Like trying to teach you how to do ballet. Or watching movies during lunchtime. Or playing video games in a basement.” 

“I think you mean repeatedly hitting me with a Wii remote because I somehow managed to beat your high score on Just Dance.”

“You weren’t even trying!” 

Langa chuckled at the girl’s outburst. “Just have to learn the mechanics of the game to win. You don’t actually have to be good at dancing. Or dance at all.” 

“You…”

Emily huffed, but it wasn’t long before her frown broke into a grin. Laughter spilled from her lips as Langa swatted her hand away, dodging her attempt at a hair ruffle. Because even if they were going down memory lane, Langa sure as hell was not letting her treat him like he was 5 years old again. 

“I know you feel like you’re a big weirdo and you didn’t have a childhood since your past doesn’t look like some American Walmart Thanksgiving commercial, but I can guarantee you had one. And a damn good one, for that matter! And you also definitely made mine a whole lot more memorable and fun. Like, I don’t know what I would have done without my little baby cousin to play with all summer long. Most probably would have turned out a whole lot worse than I have had you not been there to entertain me and keep me in check.”

Despite Emily’s teasing tone, it was her sentimentality that really stood out to Langa. And he never knew what to do with that. He didn’t know how to respond to the girl who always seemed so energetic, always so ready for the future. She wasn’t one to reminisce, tripping over memories from the past. Or at least, that was how Langa had always perceived her; that wasn’t the Emily he knew. To him, she was someone who lived to tease and annoy him, wholeheartedly. She wasn’t one to smile as softly as she was now, a light mist covering her eyes as the ancient years rolled by like a silent film. Those brown eyes, they were made to shine from mischief and scheming, not from the threat of tears. 

For the first time in what felt like forever, Langa felt something in his chest. His heart? Was it beating? If it was, it sure wasn’t the same heartbeat as when he was around Reki. It also wasn’t the same heartbeat that would race as he would slide through the world on a board. No, this time, it was going slower, feeling calmer. It beat with such a different feeling that Langa could not name it. It wasn’t excitement; it wasn’t anticipation. Was it perhaps nostalgia? Safety? Was it remembering what it was like to be a little kid, scrapping his knee as they played soccer against the garage door? Was it finding his first best friend, the person who had once been so important to him? It wasn’t anything like being with Reki, exciting and energetic and new, but still, it was nice. It felt like forgetting the distance that had estranged him from the girl who had been his only friend for so many years.

“Em,” Langa felt himself choke up, but he had to say something. He couldn’t remain silent. He couldn’t let the moment die. He couldn’t leave things unsaid, things he’d later have to bury deep within himself because it would be too late. He couldn’t let this moment pass, let the words fester until there would be no one to say them to anymore. “You also—!”

“Sorry it took so long! I just couldn’t find my water bottle anywhere, but I finally found it!”

Reki’s head poked out from behind the door as he held the bottle in the air. Almost like magic, all signs of tears vanished from Emily’s face. She perked up, a grin lighting up her face. And with such a grin came the dawning realization that all hell was about to break loose, the girl leaning dangerously close to Reki. 

“You should feed it to him.” 

Never had Langa felt so mortified in his life. He didn’t even dare look at Reki; his eyes remained on Emily who was now giggling hysterically to herself as she kicked her feet in the air like a child. For the first time since landing in Japan, she didn’t stumble on her Japanese words. They came as naturally as if they had been English. There had been no hesitancy whatsoever, which only made it worse for Langa and his stupidly burning cheeks. No need for a mirror to guess the color of his face; the blossoming heat was the only indicator he needed. 

“You feeling sick, man? If you need anything else, you’d tell me, right? If you’re not feeling well, you can go home. I’ll tell Oka what happened, don’t worry about it! I promise he’ll understand and I’m totally capable to working alone! You don’t have to worry about me at all!” 

Emily may not have hesitated, but bless her word for word translation passing over Reki’s head. And bless his not asking what she meant; explaining would have been far too awkward. Otherwise, there would have been more hesitancy in Langa’s grabbing of the water bottle before chugging down half of its contents. 

“I’m fine, Reki. Really. You have to stop worrying so much about me. And Emmy’s just being a bitch who thinks I can’t do anything on my own.” 

“Not my fault you were a mega crybaby back when you were a kid.” The shrug was just for show, but the twinkle in her eye was the real jab. “Took you forever to figure out chopsticks, I was convinced the grandmother was going to have to feed you until the day you die.” 

“Wait, but if I remember correctly, weren’t you the family’s crybaby? Because I’m pretty sure I saw you sobbed uncontrollably that time your pink spoon was dirty and you were forced to eat with a purple one.”

“I—!"

“I can’t imagine either one of you crying.” Reki’s voice cut through the argument, both turning towards the boy. He was glancing away, refusing to meet either of their gazes. “You guys are both just so… not like me.” 

The forced, bitter laughter that fell from Reki’s mouth broke Langa’s heart. Crying had always been a sensitive topic for Reki. He had never liked how easily his emotions could get the best of him. He hated how easily tears formed at the corners of his eyes. Just the idea of crying left him insecure, feeling like less than those around him. And Langa, well, he hated how Reki felt obligated to bottle up his feelings, not wanting to let others see his sadness or distress out of fear of being seen as less.

Langa remembered the first time he had seen Reki cry. It had been a hard time for both of them. It had been hard on Reki who had been holding back his tears until the dam broke free, a flood of tears pouring from his usually bright amber eyes. All his sadness, all his stress, all his insecurities had been let out, a ticking timebomb that exploded at the worst possible moment. And it had been hard on Langa who hadn’t known what to do. He didn’t know how to comfort Reki. He didn’t know what to say to him either. He didn’t know how to deal with everything that was happening so quickly, all around him. 

Since then, Langa made sure to remind Reki that crying wasn’t a bad thing. There was no reason for him to be ashamed of the tears. They weren’t a weakness. They weren’t a character flaw. It didn’t matter what other said or did or how they looked at him. None of it mattered; all that mattered was that Reki knew that crying was natural. All that mattered was that he didn’t find himself hating himself more for letting it all out. 

“Someone willing to let others see them cry is the bravest and strongest kind of person out there,” Langa had once said when Reki looked like he was holding back tears. “Not only are they honest with themselves, but they’re also not afraid to let others know how they’re feeling. There’s no point in hiding when you’re hurt.” 

It wasn’t every day Langa knew what to say, but in that moment, he remembered his mother’s words. They had been said to him when he was at his lowest, but still, he hadn’t taken them to heart. Still, he hadn’t let himself cry. But thankfully, Reki had listened. Thankfully, Reki had let it all out, weeping into Langa’s shoulder, hiccupping muffled words into a soaked t-shirt until he passed out from sheer exhaustion.

Reki didn’t need to be like Langa. He didn’t have to put up some emotionless person. He didn’t need to be ice cold like Langa. He didn’t need to look like he was ready to fight whoever got in his way or brush off everything anyone said. He didn’t need tears to be foreign to him. 

Reki, he was allowed to be emotional. He was allowed to be messy with his feelings. He was allowed to care about everyone around him and he was allowed to feel something about what as being said about him. He was allowed to cry his frustrations out if that was what helped him because Langa would be there. Langa would always be there. He would always be a shoulder to lean on, a hand to hold if Reki so wanted. 

Emily’s fingers curled around Reki’s forearm, leaning in closer than strictly necessary. “Don’t cry! I was kidding, you know! Langa is more than capable of taking care of himself! See? He can drink all on his own!” Her fingers dug into Reki’s skin, nearly breaking it as she gestured frantically at Langa with her other hand. “See? He’s a big boy! Totally capable of using his weird lanky body all on his own!”

Had it not been for the far more natural and pretty laughter that bubbled out of Reki, Langa would have hit his cousin upside the head. Or thrown the water bottle at her. Really, anything to shut her up. But Reki was rubbing at his nose, a grin slowly making its way across his face once more. There he was, smiling and bright, just the way Langa like it. Because while Reki was allowed to cry, it didn’t mean Langa liked it. If he could have it his way, he would have kept Reki happy for the rest of eternity. If he could keep Reki laughing, then there was nothing Langa wasn’t willing to do for that. There was absolutely nothing he wouldn’t do to see that pretty smile blossom across Reki’s face. 

“So,” Reki straightened himself out as he fell back into his more cheerful and professional voice, “can I help you with anything? Looking for anything in particular?” 

Emily slid down from the counter, her eyes scanning the environment as she hummed. It was obvious she hadn’t come here for anything at all; all she knew of skateboarding was that they had wheels and Langa could go fast on his board. Other than that, she had never shown interest in the sport. 

“Not really?” Langa rolled his eyes at the girl’s words. “I mean, I was looking for something, but that was mostly company from you guys. I’m just so bored at the apartment with Auntie Nanako at work and Langa’s not there either and there’s just so much tv and doomscrolling a girl can do in a day.  So yeah, I was just bored and wanted to check out where you two spend your days.” 

Reki leaned against the counter, his eyes following Emily’s gaze and fingers. “That sucks. Can’t you visit around or something?” 

“Not fluent enough and definitely can’t read anything. I’d be lost in a matter of seconds.” 

Her fingers swept over rough boards and smooth helmets. The colors reflected against her skin, staining her momentarily as she moved across the little shop. She seemed so out of place here, surrounded by loud t-shirts and colors. but at the same time, Emily seemed at ease. She browsed as if she were in any other shop, her eyes flickering between the many pieces on display. There were no questions or disgust in her eyes; there was an understanding that this was just another sports shop.

“Well, you know how to skate?” 

Emily turned back to the boy and shook her head. So much was obvious; she didn’t have the scars that Langa had or the fearlessness. She was dainty and princess-like, the exact opposite of what a skateboarder should be. Or maybe she did have what it took to be a skateboarder. Maybe Langa was just afraid of the sudden direction of this conversation.

“I tried to do a bit of figure skating back in the day, but I highly doubt that’s the skating you’re referring to. I always had to be careful to keep my bones intact since, you know, dancing and all that.”

“I can teach you if you’d like. I promise I won’t let you get hurt. You got my hand to hold for as long as you need and want.”

Reki’s smile was… Emily’s laughter… Everything started to fade out. Everything but the ringing in Langa’s ears. Everything but the tightness in his chest. Everything but the twist in his gut. Everything but the choking sensation building up at the base of his throat. 

Everything was fading. Everything was buzzing. Everything was going to hell.

Oh no.