#I've had this thing in my documents for about half a year and I finally polished it up | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

themusingsofacurlyhairednerd · 3 months ago

Note

hiiii, omg i would absolutely adore more of vampire rhysand fics, especially from that universe you created with them all vampires, will there be more? maybe when reader is turned, she can finally take both azriel and rhysand👀👀👀 or maybe to explore rhysand's relationship with her maybe nesta or someone from her family sneak in to the ball to steal reader back but rhysand is like nu uh tf

those are just some of the ideas that popped into my head, i love your writing and your smut💖

You must be psychic because I had literally just opened up a Word Document to try and write another Vamp!Rhys fic but couldn't figure out where to start!

I've got some ideas, and was thinking about doing some Monster Themed Fics for Spooky Season (More Vamp!Rhys + Bat Boys, maybe a Werewolf or Demon AU) if I can get my thoughts in order enough. Until then, pls enjoy a possessive!vamp!Rhys ;)

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

Mine

Content Warnings: Slight SMUT, Possessive!Rhys, Blood and Gore

---------

“I’m bored,” Rhysand says by way of greeting, as he throws his lythe body onto the chase across from where you sit, curled up in a reading chair in the library.

The sun sets behind you, the golden rays peeking in through the blackout curtains that usually remain closed during the day. Most of the horde sleeps through the day, meaning, if you let your body’s natural rhythm guide you, you have the entire manor to yourself. And of course, you use most of that time to peruse the thousand year old vampire’s massive collection of books. There’s so many organized on the floor to ceiling shelves you’re not even sure you’re promised immortality will give you enough time to read all of them--that doesn’t stop you from trying, however.

The vampire lord remains in the shadows of the library, the crack of sunlight just far enough away to not burn his otherwise unbreakable skin. Sometimes you think it’s a shame he can only go out at night, while it’s true he looks his best under moonlight, the golden hue of the fading sun makes his bronze skin glow like a god. You’re tempted to set down the book in your hands and climb into his lap, unbutton the already half open shirt and run your tongue over every golden inch of him. Time has not dulled the need you feel for him, even after all these months, he’s still as tempting as he was the first time you laid eyes on him.

“There are a number of things you can do in this manor,” you say, ignoring your instincts and going back to the fantasy romance you’ve been devouring for the last hour. In truth, the smut on the page before you might also play into why your mouth is practically watering at the sight of him. You’re right at the good part, and your mind is torn between finishing the chapter and indulging your own fantasies with the very real, and very eager, vampire before you.

“Not entertaining enough,” he whines.

Your eyes still on the page as you try and think of something to offer him. He hasn’t been able to throw another ball in nearly a month, not after a group of vampire hunters had come rolling into town. Their presence had been tiresome and even Azriel, for all his talents had not been able to figure out who’d tipped them off and brought them around. Rhys had initiated an indoor ban on the whole horde just to keep everybody safe. That meant for the most part, everyone had been living off of sheep’s blood and well, you. Mostly the sheep’s blood though. Rhys had threatened to keep you locked in his room, for only his enjoyment if Azriel didn’t stop leaving so many bite marks in your thighs--his favorite place to feed from you apparently. There were more than enough bite marks across your throat to give the others pause before they tried to drink from you these days. And it hadn’t helped that Cass had snuck out and nearly been caught, drinking from a barmaid in an alley three nights ago. Everyone was on edge.

You glance up at him over the top of the worn pages in your hands. He keeps an arm thrown over his eyes, as if, even the little bit of sunlight filtering passed is enough to hurt him. Aside from that, he lays with one long leg tossed over the back of the couch, his shirt untucked and unbuttoned, the swirl of ink across his chest on full display. His dark hair is tousled, falling messily over his forehead. He had to have come directly here from his bedroom.

You look back down at the paragraph you were reading, the spicy scene practically leaping off the page at you, then back up to him as you bite your lower lip in thought. It’s usually him that initiates your interactions, him that dictates how and where you take him. You don’t mind. Truth be told, you love being able to let go of everything and let him dominate you in whatever way he sees fit. It is the height of your pleasure, knowing he could so easily break you, and yet he doesn’t. You think meeting him might actually have put some pieces of your soul back together, rather than shatter them further and you love him all the more for it. And now, in that freedom, you can’t help but wonder if there are still other things to explore?

“We could play a game?” You suggest, voice softer than you mean it to be. Neither of you have ever talked about switching things up. Why mess with a good thing, right? But he’s here, asking, and the idea is literally in your hands as you speak, like fate prompting you to try something new and exciting. It can’t hurt to ask, right? He’s never denied you anything before.

Rhys spreads two fingers over his face, so you catch a glimpse of one, gleaming, violet eye. A grin spreads across his handsome features, fangs glinting in the scarce few rays of sunlight left. There will be nothing but starlight here soon, the plain of existence made solely for him. The others may live in the dark, but it is Rhys who thrives in it. “I’m listening.”

You draw a shaky breath. It’s just a question. No harm can come from a question. But how exactly do you suggest… this? You glance down at the pages again, trying to see if they even gave it a name for you to offer him, but there’s nothing but the promise of pleasure blurring across the pages.

Gathering your courage, you unfurl your legs from beneath you and cross the distance so you can climb onto his lap. Those thighs might have been made just for you, muscle shifting to let you get comfortable as his hands settle on your hips. He sighs contentedly, like this is something he’s been missing as you settle your weight against him.

“I was reading this book and these characters are…” you scrunch your face, trying to explain without sounding crass and failing. A blush works its way up your cheeks as you shove the open book into his hands. “Maybe you should just read it.”

He takes his time, tongue slipping out to wet his full lips as he reads. You count every breath he takes in the silence, watching his face with rapt attention to try and gauge what he’s thinking about it. He’s a master of schooled expressions, always collected and together, but after all these months, you like to think you know his tells. Yet, as he reads, there is no gleam in his eye, no obvious indication of arousal from where you sit over his hips. There is nothing but careful calculation as he reads--and maybe rereads, judging by the time it takes him--the pages.

Finally he closes the book and sets it down on the floor. “You’re suggesting we do that?”

It’s hard to identify if that is amusement or irritation in his voice and you find your heartbeat quickening regardless of which it is. “I-if you want.”

“That’s not what I asked, Little One,” he tuts, hands resuming their rightful place on your hips. His thumbs stroke gentle circles into your skin, a move that can turn either teasing or cruel at a moment's notice.

“I don’t know, you said you were bored. I thought maybe, you know, since we haven’t had a ball in awhile you might want to…” the word sticks in your throat and you swallow as the intensity of his gaze pins you in place. “You know… hunt.”

His eyes light up at the word. “And you want me to hunt you?”

Your thighs clench involuntarily at the thought, a move that doesn’t go unnoticed in the slightest. He grins wolfishly, gaze pinned to where your hips rest over his. He could have you right here, like this and he knows it. All it would take is a couple rocking motions of his hips, a slide of his fingertips beneath the thin silk of your top, teasing up bare skin until he can play with your breasts and you’d surrender. He could drink his fill and take you just as you are, right here and now. But there’s no challenge in it, no fun to be had, and he wants you to tell him you want it. Want him like that.

You’d be a liar if you said you’d never thought about what he would feel like if he let loose his control and showed you just how much a monster he was capable of being. You knew that even if he lost his usual composure, he would never hurt you. Even his basest instincts would balk at the thought of causing you pain. If you said you wanted it, he would make sure that you enjoyed every minute of it.

“Yes,” you say softly.

He sits up, swinging his legs onto the floor, moving you with him. His hands slide over your hips to your ass, squeezing playfully as you squeal in surprise over the sudden shift in position. “What are the rules to this game then?”

Your heartbeat quickens in your chest. You’re actually going to do this.

“I want a ten minute head start,” you say slowly, mind spinning.

He hums as he leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Done. What else?”

“No going past the gardens.” There is enough yard between the manor and the perimeter walls that you could still feel like you were outside without risking an encounter with a hunter.

“Agreed,” he kisses the opposite corner of your mouth.

“If you catch me-”

“When I catch you,” he says, lips pressing to my chin.

“If you catch me before the end of the hour,” that gives him a total of thirty minutes before the clock chimes, “then…” It’s not like you’ve never talked dirty before, but still, your cheeks are a deep set of red as you say, “then I am yours to do with what you wish.”

His eyes gleam, fangs glinting as he leans back and grins like he’s already won. “And if I say I want to be so deep inside you that every sorry hunter for miles will know your mine regardless of where I find you?”

You clench your thighs again, or attempt to, this new position in his lap doesn’t give you a lot of room to do so. “If you can find me.”

He slides you effortlessly off his lap, but you find, given the nature of the way he’s looking at you, that your legs feel weak already. “You should get going. You’ve only got ten minutes, Darling.”

You waste precious time leaning down to capture his lips in a quick kiss, but you don’t care. Every kiss, every touch is worth the lost time. He is a promise of endless time, of boundless freedom and new adventures, time is never wasted with Rhys.

He pulls away with some difficulty. “I’m still counting,” he warns.

You grin as you turn and sprint out the library, leaving the doors wide open as you run. It occurs to you now that you’ve never actually seen him hunt outside a ballroom. There’s a lot of strategy to those hunts, as you’ve observed, but he’s never had to chase anything. He’s like a spider, waiting patiently for his prey to get caught and stuck in his web for him to devour. You don’t actually know how fast or strong he is. He certainly has a heightened sense of smell, but how heightened?

You know you want to make it outside, just to let him feel like he’s getting out of the house, but going straight out the back door would be too easy. You run up the stairs to the second floor instead, then into one of the many empty rooms and unlatch the window. This might waste more of your precious time, but still, you’re curious to know if he’ll save time and run right out the door, or if he can actually follow your scent.

Carefully, you climb onto the roof and pick your way across the slanting tiles, until you reach the side of the manor where tree branches reach for you. The gardens outside the estate are massive, their own little forest, and with the gates closed, the gardeners haven’t been around to trim the trees. Branches that would normally be clipped to keep the leaves from collecting on the roof have been allowed to blossom and you find a sturdy one and nimbly walk across it like a balance beam. He may be the expert hunter here, but you spent years outside the Spring Estate, back when your parents were still alive, exploring the massive gardens and climbing the trees. Until your Governess had dragged you back by the ear, yelling about your ripped skirts and scraped knees. Hardly the lifestyle of a lady, they’d said. You couldn’t care less now as you climb, hand over hand through the dense leaves, moving from tree to tree. This is familiar yet different, you are far more free here than you had ever been back home.

Anticipation sits hot and heavy in your lower belly as you move. It’s hard to tell how much time you have left and you need to decide if the plan is to just keep moving or to hunker down and hide in wait.

When the trees start to thin, you finally clamber down onto the damp floor below and take a good look around. There are certainly plenty of bushes to hide under, but that feels… boring.

You glance over your shoulder, the trees blocking out the moonlight that has now replaced the earlier sun. Shadows cling to the trees providing ample cover, for both you and the predator you know is coming.

You bite your lip. You want it to be a challenge. So you keep moving, ears straining for any little sound that might indicate your ten minutes is up. Every rustle of leaves makes a shiver run up your spine, heart thundering beneath your ribs. It’s a heady sort of rush that makes you laugh as you break into a full on sprint, wind tearing at your loose hair.

This is freedom. Unbridled and unrestrained, there are no limits on what you can do or want, and right now, you want exactly what he promised you.

You slow to catch your breath, the trees thinning as you come closer to the hedge maze on the far side of the property. There’s usually a whole slew of string lights bobbing overhead, so partygoers can see past the towering hedges full of roses and attempt to find the bubbling water fountain at the center of the maze. It’s a showstopper when lit, but right now, it is dark and unyielding and you inch your way towards it with more than a little trepidation. It would be a good place to make him walk through to get to you, but some of the hedges are so thick and overgrown it blocks out the light, and you do not have the night vision of vampires, not yet.

A twig snaps behind you and you jump with a hand clamped over your mouth to keep from screaming as you turn to face the noise. There’s enough moonlight to see by out here, but there is no familiar shape stalking towards you. There’s nothing there at all but the trees and the maze at your back.

You give yourself a little shake to calm your nerves as you inch backwards towards the opening of the maze, still anticipating Rhys’s sudden arrival. One step back, then another, until you can almost feel the shadow of the hedges against your back. It’s a degree colder within it than outside of it.

The first bit of darkness covers your entrance.

And it covered the hiding place too, because you hadn’t seen anyone or anything within the maze until a firm hand clamps over your mouth. Surprise makes you scream, the noise muffled beneath the weathered palm as a strong arm wraps around your waist.

How the hell had he gotten behind you?!

Hot breath fans your ear as he puts his lips to your ear. “Scream, and you’re dead.”

That’s not Rhys’s voice at all!

Panic grips you and you have just enough presence of mind to fight, digging your elbow into the stranger’s soft gut, throwing your head back into his shoulder. You twist and claw and bite down on the hand covering your mouth so hard you taste blood.

“You little bitch!” The stranger snarls, his hand slipping off your mouth.

You don’t have time to spit out the blood as you scream, “RHYS!!!” As loud as you can.

The stranger grabs your hair and spins you, face scraping over a cluster of thorny roses that cuts open your cheek as you fight to keep your footing. You stumble, but before you can hit the ground, another rough set of hands grabs your arm and yanks, pulling you deeper into the darkness of the maze.

“Get off me!” You shout, your game forgotten. There is nothing but wild panic in your blood as you claw and punch at the hands that pull you deeper and deeper into the maze.

Rhys can find you in here, right? He knows this isn’t part of the game?

Blood trickles down the wound in your cheek, following a trail down your neck and chest as your head whips around to try and get a good look at your attacker. He’s not much taller than you, but he’s twice as large, his arms made of thick, corded muscle. A spiderweb of scars travels up the bare expanse of his right arm, but he has no other defining features you can see in the darkness.

The second remains in the dark as they drag you through the maze. They must have been here awhile, if they know their way through it. In no time at all, you find yourself at the maze’s heart, the fountain that’s usually so dazzling at parties remains full of stagnant water and dead leaves. Sitting on the lip of it are another two men, one carrying a sword and another wearing a bandolier full of wooden stakes. Hunters.

Your mouth dries, heart skipping a beat. No no no! This can’t be happening! How’d they get past the gate? Rhys had it made by some local witches, it was supposed to be spelled to keep hunters out!

“Y/N?”

The world narrows in to the sound of that voice, as the body attached rounds the fountain. The sliver of moonlight cuts through the overgrown shrubs, highlighting the swatch of blonde hair, carefully tied back from a face that looks so similar to your own.

Though you have no fangs of your own, you pull your lips back in a snarl as Tamlin draws nearer. “You did this?” You hiss at your brother.

He looks older, tired. Emerald eyes framed by dark circles. It’s been months since you’ve seen him. Months since he sent someone to tell you not to bother coming home since you’d ruined yourself with Rhys. Based on the stories you’d heard, he’d trashed the manor in a fit of rage when he’d found out he could no longer auction you off like a mare to be wed and bred by some stuffy, old baron or count.

He takes you in, nose crinkling as he spots the hickeys littering your throat. You’re not wearing anything more than a pair of lounge shorts and a silk top, an outfit that had felt appropriate a moment ago but now, based on the judgment and leering of the hunters, feels poorly out of place.

It’s an effort not to try and cover yourself, to stand there, blood still dripping from your cheek and keep your chin up.

“Where is he?” Tamlin demands.

Shit. Shit. Shit! Of course he’s not here for you, he’d made it clear you were as wanted as a wadded up gum wrapper. He--they--are all here for Rhys.

“Who?” You play dumb, trying to buy time. Rhys is walking right into a trap and if you don’t think of something quick…

“Don’t play dumb!” Tamlin snarls. “I know you’ve been whoring yourself out to that blood sucker!”

He can’t know that Rhys is the town’s vampire, there’s no way. Every person that leaves the manor is compelled to forget everything they saw. The whole horde is meticulous, Az has even followed people home to ensure the protection of the den.

When you don’t respond, he says, a little gentler this time, “Tell me where he is, Y/N, and I will consider this whole mess a compulsion on his part and not hold it against you. We’ll go home and find somewhere safe for you to live. There’s a temple that will take in ruined women…”

You’re seeing red. “Nobody fucking ruined me! It is my body! What I do with it is none of your business!”

He frowns. “Nesta thought you might have been compelled, I didn’t want to believe that you were so weak minded that it could happen to you, but now that I see you…”

Nesta. Your stomach twists itself into knots. She was supposed to be your best friend, and yet she had gone to Tamlin and he’d called the hunters. She must have seen Rhys drinking from you that first night after all. In her rush, she’d pissed off Cass, who had been so distracted with her leaving he’d distracted Az from following her home. She’d gotten out of the den knowing what they all were and Tamlin had spent all this time summoning these hunters.

The betrayal stings worse than the cut on your cheek, your eyes burning despite your attempts to keep it all bottled up. You can’t cry here! Not in front of them. The four hunters hover near the exits, blocking your escape, but keeping watch for Rhys all the same. They all have stakes. They’re all clearly fighting men, all capable of taking on an unsuspecting vampire.

“Don’t do this, Tam,” you whisper. If anything happens to Rhys… If they get their hands on him because you suggested going outside the manor, you’re never going to forgive yourself.

“You forced my hand!” Tamlin snarls, advancing a step towards you. “You went and made a mess of things as always! If mom were still alive she would have keeled over and had a heart attack from the strain of having you for a daughter.”

The words hit like a slap. He’d always been good at that; when he couldn’t use his size and strength, his words were just as sharp as a blade, and he’d used them to keep you in line for years. Even now, the freedom you had so desperately craved feels like it’s slipping through your fingers. You feel your shoulders hunch, chin dipping towards your chest. He’s always been so terribly good at making you feel small and useless and so terribly unwanted. Even now, your own flesh and blood isn’t here to make sure you’re alright, he’s here to prove himself a hero by killing a vampire. Your vampire.

Figures, as soon as you’d found something to love, Tamlin found another way to rip it from you.

Seeing a weakness, Tamlin stalks towards you, his footfalls heavy in the damp earth. He reaches out a hand to grab you, but before he can so much as brush a fingertip over your arm, his body flies backwards like it’s been tossed by an invisible hand. He hits the statue guarding the water fountain so hard the old angel’s head falls from it’s stone shoulders.

“Don’t fucking touch her!” Rhys snarls so loud the ground shakes. He’d come in silently, stealthy as a cat. The power that radiates off him is nothing like the demure courtier you see in the ballroom, there is nothing subtle or charming about this Rhys. There is only cold, unyielding rage as he moves around you faster than your eyes can track. You don’t even have time to warn him about what the hunters are armed with before he uses his teeth to rip the throat out of the first man. Blood splatters across his face as the hunter falls. Another blink at the second falls, his heart still beating from where Rhys holds it in his fist.

The third hunter has just enough time to slide a stake out of its sheath and lunge, but Rhys is so much faster and stronger, there is no contest. He snags the hunter’s wrist, snapping the bone so hard his wrist twists backwards, the stake now aimed at the hunter’s heart. His own momentum keeps him moving forward, even as he screams in terror, and he impales himself on his own stake. Rhys hurls the body into the thorny hedges, leaving it to bleed out as he turns to face the fourth and final hunter.

It's the one that had grabbed you initially, his thin lips pulled back in a sneer as he flips two stakes around in his large hands.

“You think you can waltz into my domain,” Rhys seethes. There’s an eerie calm to his steps now, blood dripping from his fingers, splattering the trampled grass. “And try and take what is mine?”

Rationally, you know you should be terrified of him like this--this is who he really is, not the courtly mask and disarming smiles you know, this is a full-fledged vampire in all his glory--but you’re not. Not even a little bit. If anything, the sight of him makes you feel like you can breathe again.

“I’ve killed worse things than you,” the hunter spits. “You won’t even be a challenge.”

Rhys cocks his head like he’s thinking, a grin spreading across his face. His fangs are longer than you’ve ever seen them, poking into his lower lip, where the first hunter’s blood still lingers. “Is that so?”

He takes a small step forward, and though the hunter’s fingers twitch around the stakes, he doesn’t move. He doesn’t even blink. He stands still as a statue, his chest barely rising and falling. Almost like he can’t move at all.

Rhys reaches out and plucks the stakes from the hunter’s hands like he’s taking a toy from a belligerent child. The hunter doesn’t move; doesn’t speak in his own defense.

Rhys lifts the stake to get a better look at it in the moonlight. “These are poorly made,” he tuts, right before he jams it between the hunter’s eyes. The man falls, still completely immobile.

“You’re a fucking monster,” Tamlin hisses from where he’s still struggling to get back to his feet.

Rhys slides the hand not dripping blood into his pocket, appearing bored as he puts a boot on Tamlin’s shoulder and pushes him back down into the mud. “Humans are so very dull.”

“Yet you keep my sister like a fucking pet!” Tamlin snarls, trying to rise again and losing the battle as Rhys’s heel pushes down against his shoulder until the bone snaps. “You compelled her into being with you and have been keeping her here against her will.”

You stare at the two of them. Rhys is holding back now, toying with Tamlin--the brother that had locked you up, had insisted your Governess cut your meals in half to keep you thin and desirable for a suitor; the brother who had ignored your wishes your whole life and had stolen almost every bit of happiness you had tried to carve out for yourself. Only one of them is the monster here.

“Nobody compelled me into staying,” you hiss. “Nobody compelled me into doing anything! I chose it.”

Tamlin tilts his head to look at you, despite the pain flashing across his face. “He just used his powers to freeze a man in place, you’re too stupid to know if he used them on you.”

Rhys moves his boot from Tamlin’s shoulder to his wrist, heel crushing down until the bone splinters, the resounding crack echoing through the maze. “Try that again,” he dares.

Tamlin’s howls of pain have somehow not drawn everybody else outside, but you are relieved to see it. As much as you want him out of your life forever, you’re not up for watching them all devour him like a turkey at a Sunday roast.

You pick your way around the mess of bodies until you can grab Rhys’s hand, the blood now cold and sticky over his palm. You do not balk from it. This is still your Rhys. He is still what you would choose, if you could go back to that first night on the dancefloor. Bargain or no bargain, you would have come back time and time again, to be with him and this family you have made for yourself here. This is the life you want, messy and full of monsters.

Rhys glances down at your joined hands, yours so small and delicate against the mess of his own.

You intertwine your fingers. “Please don’t kill him.”

He reaches out with his free hand to run a thumb over your ruined cheek, checking how deep the cuts are. “Why not?”

“Can he be compelled to forget about all of us? Can you make it so that we never existed?”

“Y/N!” Tamlin screams. “You don’t know what you’re doing!”

“I could,” Rhys admits. “Is that what you want?”

“I want to be with you,” you say confidently. “As a human or a vampire.”

Tamlin tries to move out from under Rhys’s boot but gets nowhere.

“I want him to no longer have control of my life. I want to be free to choose where I go and who comes with me. I am angry at him. I’ve been angry at him my whole life. But… but I don’t want him dead.”

Rhys nods, then brushes a tender kiss over your forehead. “It’ll be done then.”

Azriel appears from the shadows then, as if he’d been hovering somewhere in the maze just in case. That intense hazel gaze sweeps over you, taking stock of your injuries before he hauls Tamlin to his feet.

Your brother still tries to fight it, but his right arm hangs limp and twisted at his side, and even if he was whole, he’s no match for either of them.

Rhys takes Tamlin’s chin between his forefinger and thumb, holding him in place with just those two fingers alone. “Any last words, Darling?”

You flash your middle finger at Tamlin, “If you come back through these gates, I’ll hunt you down myself.”

“Vicious,” Azriel praises, tongue running over his lower lip in appreciation to this new side of you.

Rhys keeps his attention pinned to Tamlin. “You’ll return home. You’ll forget this vampire business. You went out and got drunk and got your ass handed to you by the barmaid.”

Azriel snickers at that.

You’ve seen that barmaid, she very well could hand Tamlin his ass, the story will be convincing.

“If anyone asks about your sister, you’ll tell them she ran away to be with the people that love her. There is no need to look for her. She is happy.”

And you are. Your chest warms at the words. You are happy here. You will always be happy here, with this new family you’ve found.

Tamlin repeats the words in monotone, like they’re being forced out of his head.

“You’ll have to find and compel Nesta too,” you say softly. “She saw us that first night.”

“Leave it to Cass to put us in this mess,” Azriel grumbles. “I should make him compel her for the trouble.”

“He’d just turn her for shits and giggles and then we’d be in bigger trouble,” Rhys responds as he releases his grip on Tamlin. Your brother’s head sags to his chest, unconscious, and Azriel drags him out through the back gate.

“It’s done?” You ask, watching them leave.

“It’s done,” Rhys confirms.

You turn to face him again and stretch up on your toes to kiss him gently on the lips, despite the blood. “Thank you.”

When you try to pull away, he slides a hand into your hair and pulls you back for another, ravenous kiss. “Are you all right?”

“A little shaken,” you confess, reaching up a hand to brush a tendril of dark hair off his head. “But alright. Are you?”

He slides his arms beneath you and picks you up like you weigh nothing. “Let’s get you cleaned up and I’ll feel better.”

In no time at all, you’re back safe inside the house, perched on top of the counter in the bathroom attached to his room. Candlelight flickers to give him a better view of the gash across your cheek, now forming a bruise beneath the split skin.

“It doesn’t hurt too bad,” you assure. “Just stings a little.”

He frowns as he pokes at it, then brings his wrist up to his mouth and sinks his fangs into a vein. “Drink,” he orders, bringing it to your lips. “My blood will heal you.”

You stare at him for a moment. It has become an easy thing to accept that he likes to drink from you. He needs blood to live and you want him to keep on living, it is an easy exchange--and one that always ends pleasurably for you at that--but this is different. It’s not necessity. He’s offering because he wants to. Because he cares about you.

“Please,” he says gently, pushing his wrist a little closer. “Let me take care of you.”

You wrap your hand around his arm as you bring his wrist to your mouth, unsure of how to go about this. He holds you steady, pressing his wrist to your lips, guiding you through it like he has everything this far. His blood is a coppery tang in your mouth as you run your tongue over the two puncture marks in his wrist and swallow it down.

By the time he pulls away, the stinging in your cheek has subsided.

“It’ll taste better once you're one of us,” he explains as he grabs a towel and cleans the remaining blood off your skin.

You watch the slow pace in which he moves now, all that rage and strength once again contained within the confines of courtly manners, but there is a stiffness to those usually graceful motions. You can almost taste the unease coming off him as he uses the same towel to clean the blood off his own face and hands.

“You’re not changing your mind about turning me after this mess, are you?”

He tosses the towel in the hamper near the door and comes to stand between your legs. You have to tilt your head back to look at him as he cups your face in his large hands. “Never.” The finality in his tone leaves no room for doubt. “I never wish to be parted from you again.”

Your heart stutters in your chest. This bargain between you is fun and exciting, and truth be told you are more fond of him than you’d ever dare say out loud, but you had always assumed those budding feelings were one sided. This was a game and a bargain at the end of the day, what was one human in the span of eternity to a thousand year old vampire? Daring to believe that you meant more to him was not a luxury you had let yourself indulge in.

“And I thought…” he shakes his head and kisses you gently at first, grounding himself in the reality that you are safe and in his arms, but it turns rough and desperate as he considers what he’s saying. “I thought I might lose you.”

You run your fingers through the silky strands of his hair, knocking a few loose leaves that had gotten caught when he’d come running after you.

“If anything were to happen to you, I don’t…” he shutters as he slides his hands beneath you and lifts you off the counter, carrying you towards his large bed with ease despite the shakiness of his breathing.

“I’ve killed thousands of hunters. I have drained entire covens of witches and packs of werewolves.” He lays you down in the center of the black silk sheets, body propped up against a dozen pillows someone who is undead doesn’t really need, his large frame kneeling over yours as he kisses you again. “I have fought and won hundreds of battles and taken down an army of other vampires. Bloodshed is in my nature. It is woven into the lifeblood of creatures like me. I am used to the killing, but I have never enjoyed it. I avoid it if I can, but tonight, when I saw those hunters around you…”

He steals another kiss, tongue sliding behind your teeth to try and claim your very breath as his weight settles between your legs. “I wanted to take my time. I wanted to make them pay for putting their hands on you. I enjoyed making them suffer. And I’d do it again.”

Perhaps the long lasting effects of being locked up has altered your brain chemistry, because such outright aggression should be a warning sign to run, but it makes heat flare in your chest instead. This is a dangerous amount of possessiveness and yet, you enjoy it. It is nice to be looked after so deeply.

“And I know that I should turn you,” he continues. “You have more than fulfilled your part of the bargain and after seeing those hunters today, I should give you an edge over them, just in case, but…” Another kiss, his hands slipping beneath your top to skim your sides. “But to turn you I have to… You have to die to become a vampire. How am I supposed to do that, knowing that it’ll hurt, even for a moment? Knowing that I will have to be the one to do it?”

Your fingers drift to the buttons of his shirt, slowly popping them open so you can touch him. “It doesn’t have to be today. We never set a time.”

“I saw that scratch on you and almost went out of my mind,” he says as he leans back enough to let you push the shirt off his shoulders, but as soon as the article is off he’s right back on top of you again, kissing you like he won’t ever get enough. “I love you,” he whispers against your lips. “I have never loved a human before. I have never been so conflicted before. I can’t lose you, Y/N. I’m just not ready to turn you yet either.”

Your hands skim up his tattooed torso, tracing every curve of ink up his chest and shoulders until you can cup his cheek. “You’re not going to lose me. Like I said, I choose you. I want to be here with you. Like this or otherwise. I am in no rush.”

He tilts his head and kisses your palm. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“I know,” you assure, using your free hand to grab him behind the neck and pull him down for another kiss. “I trust you. When the time is right to turn me, we’ll know. It’ll feel right.”

His lips pull away from yours just long enough to catch your breath before he starts trailing kisses along your jaw and neck. You let yourself relax beneath his ministrations, eyes drifting shut. It no longer feels strange that this has become the place you feel safest; this is right.

“I love you,” you say softly.

He all but purrs into your throat, the kiss he was placing there more forceful than the last. “Careful, that’s a dangerous thing to say to an immortal.”

“You said it first,” you counter, hands sliding off him to reach for the hem of your shirt. You want it off, no clothes between your bodies, the warmth of him like this seeping into your skin. There is no telling how different it’ll feel once you’re no longer human, you want to relish every experience you have while you still have it.

He nips teasingly at your throat, fangs just barely scraping your skin. Not enough to feed, but just enough to remind you they’re there. “What power you wield over me, Little Human.”

“I’ll try not to let it go to my head,” you reply.

He laughs at that, the sound rich and deep, and you think you might do just about anything to hear it again and again. “Be careful how you wield it, I would do anything you asked.”

“Anything?” You ask with a grin, a few things coming to mind.

He nips at your throat hard enough to leave a bruise this time. “No questions asked.”

“So if I have other scenes in my books I want to try out…”

“What a dirty little mind you have,” he tuts. “And when we didn’t even get to finish the first one.”

“That really is a shame,” you muse. “I was looking forward to it too.”

“Another night then,” he promises, his voice low and dangerous in your ear. “Tonight I want to take my time with you.”

And how can you say no to those kinds of promises?

#rhysand x reader #vamp!rhys #vamp!Rhys x reader #vamp!Rhys smut #vampire smut #rhysand x reader smut #smut request #acotar #acotar smut #acotar fic #rhysand acotar #my fics #my writing #my requests #asks #acotar asks #rhysand asks

150 notes · View notes

okiedokrie · 7 months ago

Text

High Infidelity

Summary: There are many different ways that you could kill the one you love, the slowest way is never loving them enough. So what happens when you find someone who was all too willing to give you thee attention you craved, you said you'd only dip your toes into the idea, and yet, you find yourself already drowning. The novel you've been writing has been in progress for the better half of two years now, your writer's block beating you up, and your husband hasn't shown you any sympathy. Maybe a visit to the art exhibit from this new artist would jog your creativity, but what happens when this new artist offers you more than just relief from your writer's block?

Characters/Pairing(s): Xu Minghao (The8) x F!Reader

Genre: Smut, Angst, Fluff

AUs/Trope info: Non-idol!AU, Aged-Up!AU, Right Person (not) Too Late

Word Count: 10.6k

Warnings: Infidelity, very inappropriate conversations with a married woman, afab!reader, wears dresses, lmk if i miss something!! (Smut warnings under the cut)

Rating: 18+

A/N: banner and dividers by @daemour!! tysm!! This is also a rewrite/reupload of my own fic, "High Infidelity" on @pyeonghongrie, yes I reskinned my own fic.

A/N 2: Thanks to @nebulousbrainsoup, @kwanisms, @the-boy-meets-evil, @wooahaeproductions, and @gongiz for beta-reading!

Smut Warnings: tipsy sex (not drunk), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, nipple stimulation, masturbation, lmk if i missed anything!

The rain soaked into your skin—cold and icy—piercing you painfully. All your personal belongings were strewn all around you, and your soon-to-be ex-husband was angrily slamming the door shut, but you couldn't help but feel relieved.

After all, you were finally free.

"I'm right here, honey, I love you." He whispers into your skin, slowly unbuttoning your shirt, one button at a time. He kisses your skin every time new skin is revealed to both of you, he kisses your skin so delicately as if you'd break at the slightest touch-

"Y/N, you still haven't dealt with the dishes yet." Your husband, Haru, said monotonously just as you were starting to gain momentum in your writing.

You groan, the interruption making you lose focus and motivation to write. You stare at the last word on your document, gaze burning into each pixel as if hoping that this piece would write itself.

Unfortunately, life said, "Fuck you."

With another groan, you rub and pinch the bridge of your nose, a headache starting to settle in as your husband returns to work as if he didn't just cause you a serious inconvenience.

Standing from your comfortable computer chair, you take calm and even strides toward your kitchen, where only a handful of dishes are left in the sink.

And this little shit didn't even bother washing like, what? 8 dishes? He has to be kidding me, men.

You thought to yourself, your inner monologue only making you more irritated. But you wash them in silence, thinking of ways to calm down and clear your head so you have a clean slate to work with to get inspired again.

I think I should visit the gallery again, there's this new artist that I've been following. He's getting pretty popular, maybe I could draw inspiration from his work?

You think maybe this is the best idea you've had since you put bacon bits on mac & cheese.

Taking the time to visit this gorgeous gallery was the correct move.

Xu Minghao is a passionate man, you can see his dedication to his craft in all the pieces in this gallery. He was a mixed media artist, sometimes his work was pops of color on a canvas, others were sculptures made of clay, made with the most delicate of hands, and others were more niche, like the stained glass piece in another part of the gallery.

One thing about Minghao's work is that his subjects are also subjects of passion.

Paintings of a man's devotion to worshiping his lover's skin, a stained glass recreation of The Birth of Venus by Botticelli, and his latest masterpiece, simply titled "Passion", a sculpture of a woman in the throes of pleasure, with her lover holding her close to him, no gap between their skin, eternally locked in a passionate embrace.

As a romance writer, this is exactly what you need.

You take in this sculpture, the light of the gallery display emphasizing the delicate attention to detail this piece had, you know the man who made this takes pride in this, his work, skills, and dedication finally being realized.

You stare in awe at this piece for a little over 20 minutes, the more you look at it, the more entranced you become of the mastery of this craft.

You feel a presence beside you, a man around 5'11", slightly muscular build, in a turtleneck with glasses sitting delicately on his nose. He has a peculiar hairstyle, a mullet to be exact, and the most gorgeous face you've ever laid your eyes on.

"I see you like this piece in particular," He started, hands in his trouser pockets while smiling fondly at the piece, "'Passion' was a difficult piece for me to finish, ironically enough, I got bored of it quite easily." He continues, turning to face you.

"I'm Minghao, by the way, Xu Minghao. If you haven't already figured it out." He takes a hand out of his pocket, extending it towards you.

"Oh, I'm Y/N, Park Y/N. It's a pleasure to meet you, Minghao. Your exhibit is astounding, I love your dedication to your work." You take his hand to shake it,

He chuckles at the compliment, "Oh please, save your praise, I know that name from anywhere. I love your latest work, that book was what inspired this entire collection, to begin with."

You gawk at him, oh my god, he reads smut. My smut.

"Oh my, what an honor! I'm glad you also enjoy my work." You receive the compliment gracefully, "Although, I do want to hear more about why you got bored of this piece in particular, such a wonder to the arts community, surely you aren't downplaying your work?"

He smiles, perfect teeth on display, you swear you’ve never looked at a man like this in your life. You were down bad for his smile.

"I'm not saying I think it's bad, I just got bored of the creative process." He explains, "Although I do want to continue adding to this collection, perhaps we can go and get drinks together? Exchange ideas?" he offers.

You ponder on this for a bit. Going out to drinks with a budding friend wouldn't hurt, right?

"Could I give you my number? Let's set aside a day to chat. I have to get home to my husband before it gets too late."

A smirk came into his face, something dark about a seemingly insignificant change in his expression, “Of course, I look forward to our time together.”

The mug in your hands warmed your palms, and your focus was fixated on the man in front of you. He talked about another piece of his, titled “Longing”; it was heavily inspired by his desire to find someone who shares the same passion as him, the longing to hold someone in a way that nobody else could, intimacy in its purest form.

“It sounds a bit pathetic, I’m known for my work in the art of passion and, to put it simply, sex; but I haven’t been able to find the company of a lover myself. Perhaps that’s just the consequence of being a hopeless romantic. Then again, you wouldn’t know the feeling of being lonely, I assume.” He said calmly, a small chuckle ending his tangent.

“Oh I wouldn’t say that,” You look into the mug in your hands, your reflection swirling in the tea. Your face looks back at you, eyes sunken in and sad, “To put it nicely… my husband robs me of solitude, but fails to offer me company.” You shouldn’t be talking about Haru like this. Your husband works many hours, tirelessly providing you with the house and connections for you to pursue a career in writing. But that wasn’t the reason why your anxiety was swirling in your stomach.

Looking back up at Minghao, the same dark expression sits on his face, a minuscule smirk, barely there even if you squint, “Well, we’re friends now, aren’t we? I could keep you company.”

That. That was a quality of his that you noticed fairly early on. You can never read his true intentions, suggestive prose with just enough deniability to gracefully reject him without the conversation becoming inappropriate.

But your anxiety wasn’t caused by that, no, it was caused by the fact that you didn’t want to reject him.

“I’d like that, Maybe we could head to a bar and get drinks there too? My husband won’t be back for a few months because of a business trip in a few weeks. I could use the company.” You say, looking at him through your lashes; he knows his effect on you, and the mental gymnastics that both of you play over the table was just appropriate enough that to anyone listening, it’s just two friends agreeing to get drinks sometime in the future.

But to both of you, well, only the two of you know what’ll happen once the sun goes down.

“Of course, my schedule is free for the rest of the month. Be sure to think of me if you need company.” He offers you a soft smile, directly contrasting how intensely he’s making eye contact with you. The way he’s looking into your eyes makes you feel vulnerable like he’s directly using them as windows into your head. You’re half-convinced he could read your mind, if he could, he’s a master at hiding it.

You haven’t learned much about him, but from what you do know, you can never take his words at surface level, much less his actions. The way he’s leaning over the table, elbows on the surface, and his shoulders relaxed. His closing the distance, even if just by a hair, and the way his posture suggested the epitome of familiarity, shook you to your core.

His presence is almost suffocating, his dominance over your mind silencing whatever protest his suggestions may have created. You nod dumbly, “Of course, be warned though, I think of you a lot.” This causes his smile to relax into a smirk, the kind that could pass off as a smile if you don’t think too hard about it.

“I’m glad to hear that. I think about you a lot too.” He says picking up his cup of tea, “So much that a collection was born from the thought of you.” He takes a sip from the cup in his hands, eyes meeting yours over the rim of the cup, the way he holds eye contact with you always makes goosebumps litter your skin, the cup hiding the growing smirk on his face, silently enjoying his effect on you.

“Ah, speaking of the collection,” He started again, after setting the cup down, “Would you do me the honor of visiting my studio sometime? I’ll text you the address right now, you can come by at any time if you’re interested.” Taking his phone out from his pocket, feeling your phone vibrate in your pocket, you pick it up. The small device, usually light, feels like a heavy weight on your palm.

Opening your messages, you see that Minghao already sent the address, a building about 20 minutes from the cafe you’re in right now. “Lovely, could I trouble you to pick me up when I decide to visit?” You ask,

“Of course,” He replies, a gentle smile stretches across his face, “I’d love nothing more than to see you more often.”

The first time you entered Minghao’s studio, it felt like a dream. The studio wasn’t small by any means, the place was neat, neater than what you imagined any artist studio would look like. “Make yourself at home, I’ll brew some tea for us,” Minghao said as he took both your coats. Hanging the heavy fabrics on his coat rack, he gently guides you to the couches with a hand on your back, the light touch helping to ground you in this new environment.

He shoots you a quick smile before turning his back to you, setting his electric kettle to boil the water at the perfect temperature for tea. He rummages through his extensive tea set collection, settling on a simple white ceramic set with wooden handles. His eyes meet yours briefly, taking note of how you watch his every movement with care and curiosity, the way you were fascinated with the way his hand veins jumped every time he set a piece of the tea set down.

The kettle finishes boiling, he finally sets it down next to the tea set. “I want to introduce you to this teacake that my friend from home sent me,” He pulls out a teacake about the size of his head from the drawer under the table, wrapped in a slightly stained paper. He carefully unwraps it to show you the rich brown of the aged tea leaves, “This is a 15-year-old aged pu’er, I haven’t had the chance to try it yet, so I’d like to try this with you.”

“What an honor, I read from a recent interview that you were waiting for a good day to taste that right?” You ask, trying to gauge his reaction, if he’s surprised, he doesn’t show it,

“Of course, making a new friend is a special occasion, isn’t it? I’d consider that a good day.” He replies cooly, taking a tea knife and carving out a piece of tea to steep for a second, you watch as he delicately handles the porcelain set, the control in his movements reminding you of his mastery in sculpting, “You know, making tea is much like cultivating a new relationship,” he starts as he stands up to take the kettle off the stand.

“You carefully carve out your leaves, boil your water to the perfect temperature to bloom them, and steep the leaves a few seconds at a time.” You see him pour the water over the tea leaves, dried blades blooming like flowers under the delicate stream. “Each steep of tea is different, starting from the bloom until the flavor develops; and only then will you appreciate the true complexities of what tea has to offer.”

A small smile grows on your face as you watch him pour the first bloom onto his tea pets, “If my assessment is correct, you’re trying to correlate the developing flavors of tea with how our relationship is progressing?” He nods, confirming your hypothesis, “Then, I’ll ask you a question, which steep are we on?” you say with a cheeky smile.

Minhao grins at this, eyes almost disappearing with how wide his smile was, “Literally? The second steep.” He says as he pours more water over the leaves, you let out a chuckle at his little joke, “Figuratively? The fifth.”

You tilt your head a bit, “The fifth? I didn’t realize we were already at that stage.” you say as you accept his offer of a teacup.

He chuckles, “Well, I don’t just share my most expensive teas with anyone, so I might as well share it with one of the most brilliant minds I know.” he said while bringing the cup to his lips, sipping the drink carefully while making eye contact with you over the rim, winking playfully.

You raise your cup as well, the rising steam not being the only reason for your flushed face, you grin against the rim of your cup, savoring the rich and deep aroma of the high-quality tea.

After a while of banter and small talk, you finish your tea, setting down your cup gently on his expensive-feeling coffee table, he stands from his seat, “Could I show you something?” he said, holding his hand out to you. You place your palm on his, the warmth from his hand seeping into your skin. The touch was negligible, simple, even, but the contact with his skin sent electricity through you, like a violent jolt of excitement.

Minghao notices this and smirks, feeling pride swell up in his chest as he pulls you up from the couch, leading you to the other side of the room with a hand on the small of your back. He finally stops in front of a large canvas, laid across what looks like a bare-bones bed frame. You turn to him, curiosity growing on the expression of your face.

“What’s this? This looks fairly new, the paint on the frame still seems wet.” You ask, eyes raking over the splotches of color seemingly placed without much thought or care, it looked like the aftermath of a messy and angry paint spill.

“It is new,” Minghao starts, “I’m trying a new technique where I release frustrations by getting whatever paint catches my eye and throwing cups of it without much thought.” He shrugs, nothing particularly of note, but you do notice the amount of emotion that is in the piece.

“It’s not an elegant piece, but for a collection centered around passion I find it missing raw emotion.” He runs his hand through his face, frustration taking over his features, something you noticed early on was his emotions were closely tied to whatever art was around him, it seems as though the frustration in this one was affecting him at this moment.

“Yes, the human form and sex are great subjects, but pure, raw emotion is hard to capture.” He mumbled, eyebrows furrowing. “So, that’s why I invited you here. Tell me, as someone who’s written longing, despair, and everything in between. How does this make you feel?”

You pause and take in his words, turning back to the canvas and trying to soak in the colors, the shapes, and the emotion behind this piece. Yes, frustration is here. Yes, anger is here. But how does it make you feel?

“It makes me feel like I’m missing out on something.” You say simply, your stomach sinking just thinking about what that might entail. Minghao has a genuine look of shock for the first time since you’ve met him. His head tilted to give his attention to you fully.

“Really? Interesting. That’s the first time I heard that about this piece specifically.” He said with a lopsided grin, seemingly getting a new stroke of genius with your answer. He looks back at the canvas too, shoulders shaking from his restricted laughs. Your answer seemed to entertain him a lot. That much you can figure out, but you can never be sure what goes on in the mind of Xu Minghao.

Just then, your phone starts to ring, you only know one person who would call you at this hour—your Husband. You watch as the expression on Minghao’s face falls, face contorting into something short of a scowl for a split second before settling on his usual cool neutral expression. It was so quick that you barely missed the change, it happened so quickly that you decided it was all in your imagination as you ran to answer the phone.

You pick up the phone, “Hi honey-” You were cut off by your husband speaking,

“Get home, it’s getting late and you haven’t started dinner yet.” He said simply, before promptly dropping the call.

You stand there, the line going dead as you try to hold back tears. You take a deep breath, too afraid to show your face to Minghao in case tears were about to fall from your face. Grabbing your coat, you turn to face the door.

“Thank you for inviting me over, I have to get home now,” you said, your voice a little shaky, as you roughly opened the door.

You were out of his sight as Minghao stood alone in his studio, pondering. As silence took over the space, a dark smirk on his face.

'How long before you break?' he wonders.

The next time you and Minghao meet, you’re sitting on a park bench watching the autumn leaves dance to the silent song in the wind. You’re pulled out of your thoughts when you hear leaves crunch beside you, seeing the tail of Minghao’s long coat swaying in the wind.

He sees you, a smile spreading across his face, his long hair almost covering his face. His fast-paced walking makes the leaves crunch under his weight rhythmically. You think that he looks beautiful under the soft brightness of the autumn morning, only ever seeing him in the harsh rays of high noon or the constant humming of fluorescent lights.

You feel the heat radiating off his body through your and his coats as he sits next to you on the park bench. “Beautiful morning, the view is exquisite.” He says, looking directly at you. You giggle at this, he’s always been such a charmer ever since you met him. You peel the notebook from your lap, “I’m no artist, but the park is too gorgeous this time of year to not at least try to capture on paper.” you say as you open it to show him a relatively crude sketch of the scenery.

“Oh? This feels like a threat to my career.” He says with a chuckle, “But, genuinely, this is an amazing sketch. Are you sure you aren’t an artist?” You think you could get used to how relaxed you were around Minghao, conversations with him flowed so easily, it reminds you of the times your husband used to be invested in you as a person. Perhaps it was easier to compare the thrill of meeting a new person with feeling the start of a romantic spark, it was a dangerous game to play with him.

“No, I’m not, but I can appreciate a masterpiece when I see one.” You say, this time looking at him. He notices this and laughs at the fact that his joke is being used against him. He closes the notebook, handing it to you to put in your tote bag.

“The weather is perfect for a walk, care to join me?” He said, offering his hand for you to take. You accept the offer, the warmth of his palm being something to ground you on such a dreamy morning. Leaves crunch under both your weights in synch, your hand moves from his to hold onto his arm, and you try not to notice the lean muscle of it or the steady and secure way he guides you through the path.

You breathe in the autumn chill, enjoying the comfortable silence that followed the quiet whistle of the wind. “Your book,” Minghao said, his silky voice cutting through the silence effortlessly, “The one that inspired the collection, I’ve been following your publisher’s updates on the series, and I was wondering if you'd be able to share your progress on the second book?”

“Ah, about that.” You grimace, and you shake your head, quelling the urge to complain about your husband’s lack of sympathy for your predicament. “Maybe I’ll tell you another time, it’s not something I can talk about at the moment.”

He hums, luckily, Minghao was never the type to pry, “I get it, ever the tortured poet you are.” he said in a joking tone, you let out a chortle at this, agreeing that you may or may not be one.

Both of you are stopped by a flower vendor, “You both are a lovely pair,” The old man starts, as he turns to Minghao, he asks, “Could I interest you in some flowers? I’m sure your lady would appreciate them.” He smiles.

Before you can correct the old man, Minghao speaks up, “Of course, could I take three of these?” He said, pointing at the basket of Jonquils.

“Of course, you’re in luck too, these are the last off-season flowers I had in my greenhouse.” the old man said as his nimble fingers wrapped the flowers in some yellow tissue paper.

“I'm really lucky indeed.” He agreed while looking at you, your cheeks warming up at the implication. Minghao accepts the flowers and happily pays for them, gracefully handing the bundle to you.

Holding onto the stems, your fingertips graze over the delicate petals of the bright yellow flowers. “Thank you Minghao, they're beautiful.”

He smiles at the way you look at the flowers fondly, simply adoring the way your face lit up; literally, the yellow from the flowers reflected off your face and gave it a yellow hue.

“Shall we continue to walk?” He asks, offering his arm for you to hold again, you hold onto it, the flowers in your other hand. And you let the silence take over again.

Before you knew it, you've spent the entire day laughing and talking with Minghao, only stopping at several vendors for food and other trinkets, feeding the ducks berries, and watching the fish in the pond.

But the day has to end at some point.

You regretfully leave Minghao at the train station, waving goodbye through the glass of the train doors as you watch his figure get smaller and smaller.

Arriving home, you try to find a vase to put your flowers in, setting it down on the kitchen counter, your husband walks in and sees them.

“They're ugly, don't put them anywhere where I could see them.”

He said coldly, you try your best not to scoff at him, still searching for a vacant vase.

Finally finding one, you decide to place the flower vase on the windowsill of your office, the bright flowers contrasting everything else in the room, the dark and neutral furniture your husband got for you.

You jolt, realizing you're comparing your husband to another man.

You expected guilt to eat you up at the realization, but really, you couldn't find a reason to keep defending Haru.

“Could you come over to the studio later tonight? I don't think I should be alone.”

This text from Minghao worried you a bit, you've been spending a lot of time with him recently, you met him 6 more times after he got you flowers at the park, and you never noticed that he could deal with something so sinister.

Of course, you agree to come, your closest confidant in your adult life needs you right now. You wait for your husband to fall asleep in his office, again, before you leave the house, walking to the end of the block before calling a cab.

Arriving at his studio, you already knew the code, punching in the numbers 150526 on the smart lock, the studio opens with a click.

You take cautious steps into the studio, seeing the silhouette of a man on the couch, his back towards the door, nursing what you assume is a wine glass in his hand.

He turns his head to face the door, “You came.” He said, with relief in his voice, a little slurred from the alcohol you assume.

“You called.” You replied. Shrugging off your coat to hang, you join him on the couch. He looked a lot more disheveled compared to the usual clean and put-together Minghao that you know.

His hair is slicked back, some pieces of hair falling onto his face, his tie loosened, his shirt unbuttoned to reveal his collarbones and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. And glasses resting lowly on his nose.

You look at his face, and you notice dark circles around his eyes.

“Drink, and stay with me. Please.” He asks, no, almost begs you. You don't have the heart to decline. He pours you your glass and you both toast your glasses together.

You take the normal sip and he downs the rest of his, taking in a deep breath as if to steady himself. “Y/N, there's something I need to tell you.”

Your stomach drops at this, anxiety filling the pit of it as you nervously wait for the rest of what he has to say.

“I think I'm in love with-” he pauses, “someone I shouldn't be in love with.” He finishes, leaning forward to pour himself another glass of wine.

Your face falls only slightly, a minuscule change in expression that neither you nor Minghao catch. You cross your hands over your lap as soon as you realize your silence.

“Why can't you be in love with them?” You ask. Your head tilts as you take another sip of your wine. He hums, a smile graces his lips, but it doesn't seem to reach his eyes.

“They refuse to be vulnerable with me, opening up throughout our time together then closing back in the next time I see them.” He says with some fondness, “Also, they're married to someone else.”

“You probably should've led with that.” You mumble lowly, “I see, I know that all too well, wanting someone you can't have, someone so close yet so far. It's suffocating, especially when you haven't felt like yourself in so long, and then this person comes around and gives color back to your sad, gray, life. It's cruel, actually.”

You realize you've been rambling, turning to meet Minghao's eyes, you notice an emotion swirling behind them, something bittersweet, a realization that may change the course of your relationship.

“Anyway, how did you end up falling for them in the first place?” You ask in an attempt to bring the conversation back to him,

“Well, at first it was just a cure for boredom, I saw how receptive they were to my advances and I thought their marriage served as a fun, harmless challenge for me. But I got to know them, spend time with them, I got to witness the color come back into their face and I couldn't help but find it beautiful. That fact that I did that, bring color back into their face, slowly becoming someone again. The moment I saw their face light up with a simple gift I knew I was down, down bad.”

You hum, thinking the person Minghao was talking about is one of the luckiest people in the world right now. To be loved by him was like witnessing Orpheus’ choiceless grief that drove him to save his lover from the underworld, it was like feeling the devotee's dread-filled need to turn around, it was like experiencing the immediate forgiveness of Eurydice.

You wanted to be loved by him.

You both continue to chat and drink, and it isn't long before the two of you finish your second bottle of wine, Minghao offers to pay for your cab home, and he decides he's going to sleep in his studio.

You reflect on the events of that night as you slip into the cold covers of your marital bed, your husband’s side tidy as it was for the past month.

You run your hand over the pristine and cold sheet, imagining someone else filling its space on your bed, as he does your heart.

Minghao added a new piece to his collection, his gallery is still a work in progress and you walk through familiar doors. The very same statue you were entranced by still sits by the entrance, and you see a very familiar figure standing in front of it.

“I feel like this already happened before.” You said cheekily, he snorts at this, handing you a paper bag with tissue paper peeking from the top.

“Maybe this happened before in a dream, maybe we were destined to meet under the judgemental fluorescent lights.” He jokes as you feel the weight of the bag on your fingers.

“What's in the bag, Hao?” You ask cautiously, mischief flashing on his face before he fully turns his body to you, giving you his full attention.

“It's something you might like, maybe.” He said, his confidence faltering toward the end of his sentence. Tucking his hands into his trouser pockets, he eagerly waits for you to open the semi-heavy bag.

You carefully move the paper to the side of the bag, seeing white porcelain peaking back at you, you whip your head with with your face showing an expression of surprise. Minghao smiles, enjoying your reaction to his gift.

“You got me a tea set? That's so thoughtful, thank you.” You say with a smile, inspecting the frog patterns in the glaze.

“You mentioned your husband is leaving for a business trip soon, so I figured you'd like a set so we can have tea at your place. I'll even bring you a teacake to keep.” He said as he pulled a hand out of his trousers, fixing a stray hair that fell from your up-do.

“It's perfect, thank you.” You said, looking up at him, a smile still on your face.

“Do you want to walk around the gallery with me? I added a few pieces since then, and I'd like to talk about them.” he said, offering his arm. You wrap another hand around him, the familiarity of his arm under your palm giving you a sense of calm.

You spent the rest of the day walking around the gallery and chatting, other gallery-goers openly gawked at Minghao. It was obvious, really, the artist is here in the flesh, and he's gorgeous.

Minghao stopped to entertain other guests too, seeing him in his element made pride swell in your chest. His work, and by extension him, is finally being recognized by more people in the community. His hard work and dedication paid off handsomely.

Stopping in front of a mural, you noticed it was a replica of a really old painting. A painting of Ares and Aphrodite getting caught by Hephestus.

“Oof, poor bastards.” You joke, Minghao found this funny too, chuckling with you.

“It’s almost comical how this painting compelled me. I don't know what drove me to recreate the thing as a whole mural, but we both know I'm a little crazy.” He says with a playful groan, you try to hold back a loud laugh by giggling into your palm.

“Well, dear Xu Minghao, everyone knows crazy people are geniuses.” squeezing his arm, you check out the side of his face. His side profile was so sharp and soft at the same time, the dichotomy of his features was an easy subject to study. He's a gorgeous man, too gorgeous for his own good you think.

You both sat down on the bench in front of the mural to chat, and before you knew it, enough time has passed that the gallery was about to close.

Minghao calls a cab for you, and you arrive home in-tact, but not safe.

“Y/n, where have you been running off to these past few weeks?” Your husband questioned you as soon as you entered your home. Your mood instantly dropped, feeling the weight of your actions all at once.

“I'm hanging out with a friend, and it's really not that deep. It's not like I've neglected house work at all. So you should have a reason to care.” You snap back, a little too much for such a simple query. Your husband rises from his seat, cupping your face with a gentle hand for the first time in a long time.

“You’re my wife, of course it's my concern.” He said, just as he was about to make you fall for him again, he said, “We haven't been intimate in a long time, I'm leaving in a few days, so I want to make love to you before I go.”

Ah, there it was. He only ever shows affection for you when he's asking for sex nowadays.

You nod, what followed was unfulfilling and unsatisfying sex. Missionary, a few pumps just to get him off, and he didn't even kiss you.

And obviously, he didn't make you cum.

Your husband is fast asleep in your bed for the first time in months, and yet you can't find it in yourself to be happy about it.

You take out your trusty friend, egg.

The jolts to life with steady vibrations as you press the toy to your clit, relaxing into the sheets as you imagine a pair of calloused hands roaming the plane of your skin.

Controlled pressure and technique only a sculptor could have, his hair falling over his face, and his eyes holding you gaze as if you gave him everything he could ever want by simply existing.

He looks at you like you hung each star in the sky just for him, just so he could watch your skin bathed in moonlight, twinkling like the most precious diamond he could ever have.

This man isn't your husband, It was Minghao.

Your orgasm came unexpectedly, the realization that you were fantasizing about him snapped you back into reality so violently that you ruined your own orgasm.

You huff as you tuck the toy back into its drawer, pulling up the covers to try and sleep off the guilt.

Your husband left for his business trip a few days ago, and you made preparations for your first guest in a while. You finally set up the tea set when you heard a knock at your door, springing up, you head towards the door to look through the peephole, you see Minghao dressed a little more casually, a cap on his head and a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

You swiftly unlock the door for him, he smiles upon seeing you, tipping his cap, he says, “Good evening, it's a pleasure to finally be invited into your home.” You greet him back, stepping to the side to let him enter. As he does, he takes his cap off to let his hair fall onto his face again.

He offers you the flowers and you take them, “I'll go find a vase for these, make yourself at home, dinner is still cooking in the oven.” You said as you turned back to find another vase.

After finding one and setting the flowers in your office again, you find Minghao setting a record on your turntable, a slow tune plays through the air, instantly making the room feel calmer and homey.

“I didn't pin you as the type to have such an extensive vinyl collection, you have good taste too.” He said, swaying to the music by shifting his weight from one leg to another.

“I didn't feel the need to mention it considering I haven't touched those in a while. My husband hates them.” You say solemnly.

“Well, he isn't here now. Let's enjoy the music,” he said, holding his hand out for you to take, “Dance with me?”

You smile as you take his hand, he suddenly pulls you towards him and you land on his chest, his arms wrapping around you securely as you sway to the calm of the music.

You think to yourself, This is nice, this is safe. I wonder if this is what it feels like to be married to Minghao instead.

You turn your head and press your ear to his chest, hear him breathe slowly, his heart beating rhythmically. This is the first time you were ever this close to him, practically holding him in a loving embrace.

His woody cologne almost distracts you, so seductive and masculine and you almost reach up to cup his face, to kiss him. Before you realize that he isn't your husband.

You're both snapped out of your little bubble when the oven dings, signaling that dinner is ready. You break away from him, already missing his warmth as you set the dining table, one that hasn't been used in a while.

You eat dinner with him, talking about your days and how work has been. It's a welcome change of pace from your husband’s tolerance of your presence. You didn't have to beg Minghao for footnotes on his life, you didn't feel like you're taking up too much of his space or time.

It's safe, secure. It feels like you're being celebrated for existing.

You dwell on this feeling long after Minghao heads home, your stomach and heart full. As you slip into the covers you wonder what it'll feel like to hold him under them, for him to kiss the crown of your head and whisper the three words you desperately wanted to hear again.

You fall asleep with the fantasy that when you wake up, he'll be right next to you.

Minghao invited you downtown this time, various pop-up stores of luxury brands recently opened and he just secured a sale of a really expensive painting; so of course, what better way to spend that money than taking a shopping trip with his closest friend.

“This would look amazing on you.” He said while taking out a dress, it's a color that compliments your hair and skin wonderfully. Minghao always knew how to dress.

“Oh, I'm inclined to agree, but I'm not willing to look at the price tag for that one.” You joke, shrugging as you follow him around the store.

“Nonsense, I'm offering to pay.” He said, turning his nose up. “I'm getting this for you, I'll ask the salesperson for more sizes so you can try them on.” He said, turning to the salesperson doing just that.

The salesperson nods enthusiastically, bringing the dresses to the dressing rooms and ushering you in despite your protests. Minghao only smiles in amusement as the curtain hides your figure, he sits on the bench near the dressing rooms in silence, scrolling through Instagram on his phone.

He hears the curtains roll open, it only takes a moment of him looking at you in the dress to take his breath away. It fits you perfectly, hugging your body deliciously. Minghao almost drops his phone onto his lap, his grip loosening, star-struck by your beauty.

“How does it look?” You ask, awkwardly fiddling with the expensive fabric of the dress, feeling a little too expensive to be on your body.

Minghao wordlessly stands from the bench, looking a little dazed, he turns to the salesperson and tells them, “We're getting the dress.” As he walks toward the cashier almost in a trance.

You're a little taken aback by his reaction, but nonetheless you change back into your regular clothes. As soon as you walk out of the dressing room Minghao Pushes you back in with more dresses.

“Please try these on.” He says, not having the strength to look you in the eyes. You comply.

It took you hours of trying on dresses and accessories to the point that you almost bought the store out. Minghao couldn't get enough of the mini-fashion show you were putting on for him, and it's not like the salespeople are complaining either.

You walk out of the first store with multiple bags in hand, you thought that was enough shopping for the whole year maybe, but no, Minghao pulls you into another store, and another, and another, all leaving with bags (multiple) of clothes.

It got so bad to the point that Minghao had to leave your bags in his car so you could free up your hands to buy more stuff.

You stopped trying to fathom the amount of money Minghao was spending on you, yes, he did buy items for himself too, but he looked much more satisfied to provide for you rather than procuring items for himself.

The car ride back home was filled with way too many ‘are you sure's and ‘you really didn't have to's. But Minghao was insistent on you keeping all the items he got for you.

“I'm being serious, you're a gorgeous woman, you deserve to be spoiled like a queen.” he said, turning to you while waiting at a red light, “You need to visit my studio in the clothes I got you, you'll fit right in with my paintings.” He smiles.

Your face flushes at his compliments, a bright and happy smile stretching across your face. You couldn't remember the last time you were this happy with someone. To find joy in the company of another felt liberating, you felt like you deserved this.

Minghao drops you off at your place with your new clothes, helping you get them into your living room like a true gentleman.

“I'll see you next time, Y/n.” He said stopping at your doorstep, annd leaning down to press a kiss on the crown of your head, he took note of what your shampoo smelled like and left. Leaving you awestruck in your doorway as you watch his car drive off.

This studio has become so familiar to you, like a second home almost. Punching in the code was muscle memory at this point, the smell of drying paint and clay becoming a calming scent.

You smooth over the front of your dress, one that Minghao got you, as you enter his studio again. Shrugging off your heavier coat, the beginning of winter creeps closer as the trees lose the last of their leaves.

Minghao just got out of the bathroom, wiping his hands on his paint-stained shirt and apron. He looks at you, the dress, the way it fits on you. And he smiles widely.

“Hey there gorgeous, what are you doing all the way there? You should be over there with the rest of the art.” He says cheekily.

You giggle as you enter the space more, stopping in front of him taking his extended hand and following it, giving him a twirl.

He simply adores the way the fabric flows and shapes around your curves and contours, your skin practically glowing with life.

He fights the urge to kiss you, succeeding for now.

He guides you onto the couch, a turntable sitting next to his stone tea tray on the coffee table. ”Oh? This is new.” You said when you noticed it.

“Oh that? I got it for when you come over. I got a few records too, if you'd like to make yourself comfortable while I brew us some tea.” He said, untying his apron to hang on an easel, turning his back to you and he started preparing tea like before.

His movements and practiced, you'd guess this tea ceremony is second nature to him, considering he always talks about it. This scene is safe, familiar, it's comfortable.

He does this whole song and dance again, you've seen him do this over and over again but you can't seem to get sick of it. It's like you're giving yourself excuses just to keep seeing him.

But they don't feel like excuses, not at all, they're just more reasons why you feel deeply, and so quickly for Minghao.

Again, the both of you talk about everything and anything under the sun, him walking you through all his latest pieces, him plans for new ones creativity vibrating through ever cell in his body.

You imagine him talking so passionately about the future, maybe even a future with you.

Before you could realize what you were doing, you’re holding onto Minghao’s shoulders for support,

and you lean up to kiss him.

Minghao fights the urge to kiss back, he fails.

His hands come up to cup the back of your head tilting his head to deepen the kiss, pouring all his emotions into the simple, gesture of affection.

Your head was spinning, dizzy from his cologne and the wind getting knocked from your lungs as soon as your lips met his. It was electrifying, finally feeling the warmth of his body pressed so close, yet so far from yours.

Oh, you wanted him, so, so badly.

He pulls away first, heaving from the intensity of the kiss, eyes in a daze. Meeting your eyes again, he couldn’t help but lean in for another kiss.

This time he's really pressing into you seemingly drunk off of the feeling of his lips meeting yours. He's just a man at the end of the day, a weak, weak man in the face of paradise.

He came back to his senses once he felt the cool metal of your wedding ring on his neck. Jolting back, he pushed your shoulders back, creating a significant distance between the two of you.

“I, I think you should leave.” He said turning to hide in his studio bathroom to collect his thoughts.

You stood there puzzled, did he not feel the same way you did? But why did he kiss you, twice? Something isn't adding up.

But moreover, you can't ignore the painful sting this rejection gave you. You wanted him, did he not want you? What was the point of trying so hard to make you fall for him when he just decided to back down when he finally had you?

You gather your belongings and leave the studio, the door clicking to lock behind you. The ride back was suffocating, it felt like you left a part of yourself in that studio with Minghao. And you fear that this may be the last time you see him.

You haven’t spoken to Minghao in the weeks following the kiss, your nerves on fire every time you remember how his pillow lips felt so right on yours.

You're standing in front of the mural. The one where Hephestus caught Aphrodite, his wife, and Ares, her lover, having an affair and having sex on their marital bed.

It's funny, looking at this mural. You spent your last weeks wandering his gallery, searching for his shadow, but he always seems to evade you so easily. He's marked you like a bloodstain on a pristine white dress, lingering like fog on a cold autumn day.

Winter is still young, yet you feel cold. So, so cold.

As if your most desperate prayers were heard, Minghao practically materializes next to you.

“Hi. I'm sorry I wasn't able to speak to you for the past few weeks. I'm a coward, a fool to run from you.” He said, both of you looking at the mural and not at each other.

Silence follows, you couldn't look at him, you couldn't speak to him. “Y/n I-”

“This isn't the place to talk about this.” You said coldly.

Minghao flinches a bit, not used to how icy your voice was. It usually greets him so warmly, so lovingly.

“Let's go out to drink, there's a bar that's walking distance from here, if you'd like go go with me. I have too many things to say to you, too many thoughts left unsaid. You deserve to hear them, at least.” He said, remorseful.

You really couldn't find it in yourself to stay mad at him. So you agree to walk with him.

The walk to the bar is silent, unlike your previous walks. You're so far from him, you even refused to hold onto his arm like you usually do.

It's early winter yet Minghao is sweating bullets, he's almost vibrating at a frequency that could shatter glass. His nerves are all over the place, he's acting so out of character, nothing like the calm, cool, collected Minghao you've come to know over the past few months.

He takes a deep breathe before you both enter the bar.

A few drinks in and you’re already tipsy, “You know- hic- my husband is being a dick to me.” You drunkenly slurred, “This novel I’ve been writing for over two years now is fucking me in the ass- I- I want to finish it so desperately but all he does is sucks the soul out of me. He’s a giant pain in the ass-!”

Minghao snorts at this, loudly talking over the music of the bar, “Your husband is a fucking dick! Your work is amazing. If I were him, I would do anything to help you get rid of that writer’s block, you know, inspire you.” He tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“You’d do that?” You ask, clinging onto his arm, “Thank youuuu hao bear~ you’re the best-!” You giggle into his arm, your weight pressing against his side. You’ve only known him for three months at this point, but his ideas and influence on your work improved your writing and motivation drastically.

“Hao bear? That’s new, you’ve only known me for- what? 3 months? You’re already calling me nicknames!” He holds the back of your head gently, pressing his forehead onto yours, “I should give you a nickname too… Starlight, how does that sound?” At this point, you tune out every other sound other than the sound of his voice and the pounding of your heart.

This man had you in a chokehold the moment you met him, you were fucking doomed from the start.

“Starlight? Yeah, I like it more than a little bit.” You say softly, your words almost getting lost in the noise of the bar.

“Let’s move to somewhere quieter, yeah? Tell me more about your work. We can head to my place to settle down for a bit.” There it is, the same dark, barely there smirk that plagues your stomach with butterflies.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

Arriving at Minghao’s place, you take a quick look around his apartment. Everywhere you look is a pop of color, bold splotches of vibrant hues making the place look like it was pulled straight out of the 80s, “Hao, your place is amazing, the furniture brings me so much joy~” You giggle a bit, sitting down at the plush red velvet couch shaped like a seashell.

“Thanks! Most of the furniture is thrifted from retro thrift stores, I like this style more. It brings so much personality to the space.” He passionately talks about them, “Do you want anything to drink? I have water, juice, and beer here.” He says, rummaging through his fridge.

“Oh, just water, please.” You say you have a feeling that you need to at least sober up for whatever the night brings.

He takes two glasses of water and places them down on the coffee table. It’s the only piece in the entire house that is a neutral color, a fine hardwood. You couldn’t tell what it was at a glance, not that it was important anyway.

“So, let’s talk about this book that you’ve been struggling to write now. Could you tell me what it’s about?” He asks, taking a swig of his water, you stare at his side profile while he does, sharp yet delicate features, his Adam’s apple bobbing from his drink.

Bro’s so majestic.

“Well, it’s about an artist who’s losing passion for his work, told from the perspective of his lover. It’s a spicy romance, with, in my opinion, a correct amount of sex scenes-”

“Give me a percentage of how much of it is smut.” Minghao interrupts you,

“Like… 75 percent?” He snorts at this, “Anyway, I’ve been stuck on the last spicy scene of the book, the climax, pun not intended,” You take a swig of your water, “I mean, it’s not like I don’t have experience writing that sort of thing, or lack experience in sex either, but my sex life’s been such a drag with my husband being gone for long periods and-”

Minghao interrupts you again, “And he doesn’t fuck you right, does he?”

The forwardness of his words made you freeze, you contemplated whether to reject him here, to tell him it wasn’t appropriate to talk about this with you, especially about your husband. You know how Minghao looks at you. It wasn’t a secret to anyone that he wanted you, but he never acted in any inappropriate way. He never makes you uncomfortable.

This was no exception. The swirling in your stomach wasn’t because of unease, no, this was because of arousal.

“No, no he doesn’t.”

He leans in, kissing you. This time he's not rushing, no more pushing and pulling, no more things left unsaid. He wants you, he'll have you. That was a promise.

He lifts you from the couch, lips never parting as he carries you to his bedroom, peeling each other's clothes, bumping into walls and furniture. But you couldn't care less, you were lost in each other's embrace and you can't think of another place you'd rather be.

Half-naked on Minghao’s bed, who, need you be reminded, was not your husband.

His hands roamed your sides, the heat from his palms warming your skin, causing it to flush, his soft, plump lips pressing feather-light kisses to your neck. You could feel his breath behind your ear, his hair tickling your cheek.

“How would your husband feel if he knew what you were doing with me right now?” He asks, clearly getting off on the fact that you were in his bed, getting ready to fuck him, a man who wasn’t your husband.

“I hope he’d be disappointed, but at this point, I think he forgot about me.” You say with a chuckle at the end, trying not to ruin the mood.

Minghao gently pulls away from you from that, “What?” he asks quietly, the word almost getting drowned out by the hum of the air conditioning, “Sorry, I know this was supposed to be a taboo, forbidden relationship thing but… I’m angry at him.” He says, avoiding your eyes.

“I know I’ve only known you for a few months, but I never felt this way before. It fucking kills me to think that a woman like you would be forgotten, for what exactly? Work?” He said anger gradually filling his voice. His hand reaches for your face when your eyes meet, thumbs pressing down on your cheekbone. The controlled and purposeful movement reminds you just how pliable you are under his touch. He sculpted you into what he wanted you to be; beautiful, strong, unashamed.

You gently cup his face, still hovering above you, “Kiss me, Minghao.”

And he did.

His lips met yours in a searing embrace, just the force of his passion against yours was dizzying, fiery desire clashing to make fireworks behind the eyelids that fluttered close. You never felt this type of longing from your husband, never felt his devotion being kissed through your lips like Minghao’s tongue was exploring it.

At that moment, you knew you were gone.

Minghao pulled away from you, hazy eyes meeting yours as the string of saliva that connected your mouths broke. At that moment, Minghao was stuck in a trance, his lips coming to meet yours over and over like he couldn’t stop tasting your lips even if he tried. A sweet ambrosia, too saccharine to stop. He’s become addicted to your lips molding onto his like sickly sweet honey sticking to his lips.

Out of breath, he grabs hold of your waist, rolling over to get you on top of him. He reaches behind you, unclasping the hooks of your bra and letting your breasts fall free from it. He cups both of them while you sit up, grinding on his hardening cock through his boxers, he groans at this, reflexively squeezing your boobs.

Placing both of your hands on his pecs, you also give them a gentle squeeze. Minghao notices this and his gaze darkens, passing his thumbs over your hardening nipples. Your pussy clenches onto nothing at this, a soft gasp leaves you as you started to grind harder against Minghao.

His nails started to dig into your hips, his own desperately grinding up against you for more friction. Soft moans leave him as he throws his head back against the pillows, eyes fluttering close just so he could focus on the sensations of your clothed cunt grinding against his cock through his boxers.

“God, get off of me before I cum in my underwear like a teenager.” He says with a playful groan, lifting your hips off from his crotch.

“Right, you still need to cum inside of me.” You say back playfully, his eyes darkened at this.

“Fuck, you make me want to keep you forever,” taking one of your hands and placing a kiss on your palm.

He lifts his hips only enough to get his boxers off, shimmying them off to somewhere on the floor near his bed. You also take this time to take your underwear off, secretly hiding it under his pillow when you lean down to kiss him again.

When you both pulled away, another string of saliva connected you two. You took two fingers to swipe at the liquid, bringing it down to rub your clit while you lowered yourself down to grind on his bare cock now.

Minghao hisses, “Fuck, I can feel how wet and warm you are, sweet christ.” he breathes out a shaky breath as you grind your bare wetness on his cock, lubricating the shaft for later. You moan at the contact, body slightly shaking from the friction of the tip of his cock hitting your clit occasionally.

“God, Minghao, fuck I need you inside me.” You desperately whine out. You lifted your hips up to finally hold his hard cock to align it with your pussy, slowly sinking on the thick girth. You throw your head back at the satisfying stretch his dick was making you feel.

“Fuck, you feel so good, so tight and warm,” He moans, he’s not shy about letting you know how good it feels with how vocal he’s being, he takes your right hand and holds it tightly, pressing it against his chest. You could feel his racing heartbeat under his skin, “Let me keep you forever, please, don’t make me beg, run away with me.”

You openly gape at him from this, You’d be a fool to accept this, especially since you’ve only known him for a fraction of the time you knew your husband, but god dammit.

“Take me with you, anywhere you want to go. I’m yours, please take me.” You say desperately. You’ve never been wanted this badly before, and god, you wanted more, for the rest of time.

Minghao abruptly thrusts up into you from this, tightly clenching your hand in his, still pressing on top of his racing heart under the skin. You cry out in pleasure, somehow the sensation of his heart under your palm elevates your pleasure, making you go dizzy at the thought that you’re doing this to him, and only you.

You come close to your climax embarrassingly quick, the sensation of his cock rubbing your velvet walls so perfectly made your head spin. Your ears are ringing so loudly that it almost drowns out your sounds of pleasure, and the sound of skin slapping against skin.

Minghao isn’t far from you either, the same dizzying effect taking hold of his mind too. He’s so close to finishing that he could almost taste it, his moans and whines of your name leaving his lips like a mantra, a prayer, even.

“Minghao I’m gonna cum-!” you say frantically, pressing your forehead onto his as he meets your lips with his for the nth time. You swallow the moans he spills into your mouth as you both climax at the same time. His heart still beating frantically under your palm.

“Did you mean that?” You ask breathlessly, “When you said you wanted me forever, did you mean it?” you couldn’t look him in the eyes.

“Exactly, I meant it word for word. Let me replace the ring on your finger with mine.” He smiles at you.

In the end, he did replace the ring on your finger with his, much more extravagant, and elaborate. Your husband wasn’t surprised at your sudden request for a divorce, since your marriage was already failing before you met Minghao.

Still, time was the ultimate truthteller.

Your husband found out about your High Infidelity around the middle of your divorce proceedings, and in a rage, he threw you and all your belongings out onto the driveway. In the middle of winter rain.

The rain soaked into your skin, cold and icy piercing you painfully. All your personal belongings were strewn all around you, and your soon-to-be ex-husband was angrily slamming the door shut, but you couldn't help but feel relieved.

After all, you were finally free.

You finished your book, it received critical acclaim and it was a New York Times Best-Seller.

And you got to marry Minghao, the love of your life. Who you were happily married to until the both of you grew old.

FIN.

298 notes · View notes

studentbyday · 3 months ago

Text

week 1. a stuttering start.

i can't believe autumn is already approaching. i feel like i haven't done much to truly live on my own terms this year... (the majority of my time was spent either chained to my desk, living the studying hermit life as usual, or...and this is a new one for this era of my life, feeling like a child following the real adults around on my travels which @zzzzzestforlife documents way better tbh. the travels, that is...)

in addition i've been feeling very unmotivated and numb this school year. even more so than usual. i've never been as zesty as...well, Zesty when it comes to new school years, but it has slowly been getting worse since i started uni and i think i'm getting dangerously close to falling off some cliff i'll later realize was an important cliff to not fall off of. do you get what i mean? i'm only speaking vaguely because i myself do not quite know.

i oscillate between wanting to be extraordinary and extra ordinary. i have fallen back into bad habits, which do not set a good precedent. and overall i feel lost. so so lost that i started reading designing your life. and dulled by the isolation of school i can hardly focus. it's not a new problem, i've just finally been able to put words to it after all these years. engaging and/or cathartic verbal conversation brings me back to life, whether i'm listening or speaking, but i don't get enough of that in my daily life...this is just a very weird mundane state to be in. don't get me wrong, i was relieved to get back to this life with a very predictable pattern after the hectic-ness of travel, but something about it always felt off and i almost can't believe that only now i've realized why.

anyway, feelings pass. and i have overcome the jet lag, so i am that much more energized (and perhaps a little more desperate) to bulldoze through this problem.

Study:

Read/skimmed all the syllabi for anything new (much of it is the same year-to-year as they're all courses in the same faculty and i am resigned to the fact that there will be weighty group work in at least one course out of every year)

Caught up on course announcements

Finished microbiology module for this week (hmmm i read like half of this module last year when i attempted and then dropped this course so it wasn't the most interesting the second time around but i think it'll get better as i get to the new stuff and the nitty-gritty details 🔬 mwahahaha 🦠 i also decided last minute to make flashcards for these and had to transfer my notes to anki. i wish there weren't so many isolated facts or similar but distinct processes i need to remember.)

Made flashcards for half of this week's immunology content (seems to be a memorization-heavy course and i think i really need the active recall since i barely remember the pre-req info 😅 luckily they review it in the module... 🤭)

Reviewed some of the flashcards made this week

Worked on (but didn't finish) global health slides for this week (i'm...not entirely sure what i should be taking notes on or how because...this all seems either very common sense or kind of..."woo-woo" based on my way of understanding the world...but ig that's my own biases talking? i hope they'll just test us on the common sense stuff. that will be easier for my brain 🥴)

Around half of pathology slides are left from this week (probably the most work intensive course i'm taking rn based on the timeline 😵 but also it's shaping up to be my favorite subject this semester because the modules are so well designed AND it's large processes or, even if it's smaller concepts, they're all connected to each other so i don't need flashcards!...i think! i can just pull on the thread of memory and it all unspools (...ideally...)!)

Wrote down due dates for all assessments this semester

Other life things: (yeah idk what to call this section)

I became a 6AM girlie!!! 🥰🥰🥰

Unpacked

Washed my water bottle

Caught up with a friend 💗

Health:

Yoga x2

Journalled x2

Early morning walk in nature x1 (the air smelled so so fresh i was so glad i went out...and even gladder that i went out when i did because after that the air quality got super bad from wildfire smoke 🥺)

Pilates x1 (i made it! in 2 split sessions, but still! and i feel great!!! 😃 i'm so glad i found this channel because she explains the moves in a way that i can get it even with my bad coordination 😅 she also goes slowly and there is no annoying workout music so i can completely focus on the movements and how they feel, it's perfect. 😊)

Music in My Head:

Blue Danube Waltz (OG piano version)

Treat People With Kindness

On the Sunny Side of the Street

Hikaru Nara (the perfect song for my current ambivalent mood because the whole theme of the anime, which is reflected in the sound of this arrangement, is the need to reignite your spark for the things that mean something to you and make the absolute most of it because life is short)

a few dark academia playlists that i put on loop to study to (links under the cut) (somehow the ones with new age music are the only ones i can listen to...light/quiet enough that it doesn't interrupt my thoughts but intense and melodic enough that it puts me in the mood to focus 😅)

youtube

59 notes · View notes

sunny-days-and-warm-mournings · 1 year ago

Text

It is finally finished!! I am done and is so happy!!!

This is an AU exploring the concept of Sūn Wùkōng/Dàshèng as a Yaksha and Tu Di Gong, rather than being a Yaoguai Warlord during his later years reigning as the Monkey King.

This AU follows the beginning (with some changes here and there) up until Wùkōng's shenanigans with Ao Guang, then he went on a separate path from Wu Cheng'en's novel.

In this iteration our favourite Monkey explored the realms as he burned up time, but then he took a particular interest in the humans' ways of producing food. Since Dàshèng was so used to the grandeur and bounties of Huagoushan (being surrounded by such lush forests and mountains that never withered nor died) he sort of took pity on them before deciding to help them grow their crops much better.

But this is just the very much shortened summary of the beginning of this AU, and I have compiled some research and even more lore in my Google Documents just to expand on this idea more.

This— Westward To Tathāgatagarbha Lore Google Documents

This is the Google Document of my AU, which I highly recommend for you to read! It explains all the other details and such on this story! I did my best on making them but there would be still mistakes that I have yet to find, but it should be decent!!

This is a more casual look for Dàshèng/Wùkōng for this AU as well as some brief pointers! I made this before the portrait so some things might have changed.

(Don't mind him holding a cup of beer it's fine.)

Taken from the server (with some hints for the next half of the archives/docs) which instantly kickstarted this whole thing haahahjjjss, but it really was so fun talking about it to others! They gave me more inspiration that I can handle.

And what is Tathāgatagarbha you ask? (Brief)

In Buddhist philosophy, Buddha-nature is the potential for all sentient beings to become a Buddha or the fact that all beings already have a pure buddha-essence within. "Buddha-nature" is the common English translation for several related Mahayana Buddhist terms, most notably tathāgatagarbha and buddhadhātu, but also sugatagarbha, and buddhagarbha. Tathāgatagarbha can mean "the womb" or "embryo" (garbha) of the "thus-gone one" (tathāgata), and can also mean "containing a tathāgata". Buddhadhātu can mean "buddha-element," "buddha-realm" or "buddha-substrate"

The Chinese translated the term tathāgatagarbha as rúláizàng (如来藏), or "Tathāgata's (rúlái) storehouse" (zàng). According to Brown, "storehouse" may indicate both "that which enfolds or contains something", or "that which is itself enfolded, hidden or contained by another." The Tibetan translation is de bzhin gshegs pa'i snying po, which cannot be translated as "womb" (mngal or lhums), but as "embryonic essence", "kernel" or "heart".

The term tathagatagarbha first appears in the Tathāgatagarbha sūtras, which date to the 2nd and third centuries CE.

There will be more to this in the future when I'm finished researching more about it.

Also, speaking of people that inspire me, I'm calling my dear friends here who I think might like this: @digitalagepulao @kaijufluffs @sketching-shark @lavaflowe @sixteenthchapel @jttw-monkeybusiness and @hcdragoncat !!

Special thanks to Pardal and Grandpa Sun for getting me to write more of this too :D I had such great fun!

I have so much more to add to the docs and here but this is all for now :) and honestly this is one of the greatest projects I've started aside from the older ones. I'll come back again soon with more additions and art! And lore (And maybe some interactions with a few West Heaven occupants??)!!!

250 notes · View notes

viesantewrites · 8 months ago

Text

𝐋𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐝

(𝐫𝐞𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭��𝐧 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧)

Robert Fischer (Inception) x Reader

note: Hey guys, I‘ve rewritten this story a bit and decided to post it on my sideblog. I've changed some of the themes and also that the main character is no longer an OC named Victoria, but the reader. I think this story is kinda difficult to write, which is why I've rewritten it several times. I love plots like Shutter Island and tried to do something similar here & it‘s also a story about parasocial relationships and unrequited love.

summary: The reader is hopelessly in love with her boss Robert Fischer, but he doesn't seem to be interested in her. By an unexpected coincidence, they meet in the city and his sudden intense affection for her confuses her. The reader begins to suspect that something is wrong, and when she finally uncovers the truth about her encounters with Fischer the heartbreaking reality is revealed to her.

you don‘t have to watch the movie to understand the story.

age gap, but the characters are both adults. Robert is 37-39, is divorced and has a child. The reader is about 28/29.

word count: 5000+

warnings: topics like mental illness, depression, this is a quite dark and heavy story

It was just half past seven when she heard the familiar footsteps in the corridor approaching the office next door. A key was inserted into the lock and a moment later the door opened.

Glancing around to make sure her workspace wasn't too messy, she threw an old paper cup into the bin before her boss poked his head through the door.

"Good morning, Miss YLN, so busy already?" he asked with a tired smile. "It doesn't reflect well on me as a boss to have my assistant here before me. I'm sorry, Monday mornings are always a bit stressful for me."

"No problem, Mr Fischer. I've already sorted the mail for you, it's on your desk," she said kindly, watching him as he took off his coat and hung it on the coat rack, a little damp from the rain.

"Thank you, I can count on you."

He was a very elegant, handsome man, about ten years her senior, with dark hair, blue eyes, high cheekbones and an elegant black suit. She must have stared at him a little too long, because he turned to her with a questioning smile.

Immediately her cheeks flushed and she turned back to her computer screen, but by then Mr Fischer had already approached her and put some documents on her desk. "Please scan them all and email them to Mr Parker, he's been waiting for them for days," he said to her. "It would be best if we sat down together later and quickly discuss my tasks for today, there is a lot to do. If I'm not mistaken, I have a client meeting at three today."

"At two, sir," she corrected him, handing him a planner with today's date thickly underlined.

He started to grin. "You see, this is exactly why I have an assistant."

Fischer disappeared into his office.

She sighed slightly and went to work scanning the documents. She had been working for Fischer Morrow, one of the world's largest energy companies, for barely a month. Their headquarters had moved from Sydney to London after the death of their CEO, Maurice Fischer. Her current boss, Robert Fischer, was a direct descendant.

She liked Fischer Jr a lot. He was friendly, supportive and didn't get angry when things didn't go to plan. But in some ways he always seemed so unapproachable. For example, he never talked about his private life and YN had no idea who he was outside of work. Then again, he was her boss and his private life was none of her business. But deep down she admitted that she was very interested in him.

The days flew by and she finally felt as if she had been employed by Fischer Morrow for an eternity. But who Robert Fischer really was remained a mystery.

One evening, as she was about to leave, she quietly opened the door to Fischer's office. He was sitting in front of his computer, his chin resting on his hands. "Have a nice evening, Mr Fischer." He jumped slightly, obviously not having heard her come in, but then he smiled. "Thank you, you too."

YN looked at her watch. "It's almost half past seven, don't you want to finish your work soon? Don't you have a wife waiting for you?"

Mr Fischer shrugged. "I've been divorced for a few years now, and I only see my daughter at weekends. The only thing waiting for me is an empty, dark apartment."

YN held her breath. It was the first time he had told her anything about his private life. But in the same second, he seemed to regret his words.

"No one waits for me either," she said. "Except for my cat."

Fischer raised an eyebrow with a smile. "At least that's something."

Finally she said goodbye and left the office. But all the way home, she kept thinking about her conversation with Fischer.

Was he perhaps as lonely as she was?

Tired, YN lay in bed. She didn't even have the strength to change her clothes and remove her make up. Although she wanted nothing more than to get out of that itchy, uncomfortable dress and tights. A quiet meow sounded beside her and she felt something soft brush against her arm. Smiling, she pulled the cat closer and buried her face in its white fur.

Since leaving her small home village for London, she had no one to talk to. Her old friends had all left her and moved on with their own lives. Robert Fischer was the only one she spoke to regularly, though it was far from a friendship. With the cat in her arms, she turned to the other side. But what if she had feelings for him?

Maybe she should tell him. But wasn't that too much? He was still her boss, after all, and there were probably plenty of women who were interested in him.

She quickly pushed the thought aside and closed her eyes.

Robert Fischer turned curiously when he heard the quick clicking of heels in the corridor. Panting, his assistant opened the door and dropped her bag on the desk.

"Miss YLN, are you okay?"

Her hair was messy, her coat hung loosely over her shoulders as if she hadn't had time to put it on properly, and her lipstick was a little smudged.

"I… overslept," she said, panting. "I'm sorry."

Fischer looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "It's okay. But it shouldn't happen again."

"Of course not, sir," she replied immediately.

He quickly disappeared into his office and returned with a thick stack of papers and a folder.

"Would you be so kind as to sort these documents alphabetically for me? They've been on my desk for days and I haven't had a chance to get to them. I know it's not an exciting task."

She nodded and took the heavy pile from his hand. Fischer thanked her and hurried back to his office.

Sighing, she set to work. But with each page, she found her concentration fading and her mind wandering. Her head ached, her eyes burned and she felt incredibly tired. But she tried not to show it, kept working as hard as she could and finally put the sorted file back on Mr Fischer's desk.

Exhausted, she walked back to her office, sat down in her chair and buried her face in her hands. She was shivering and her ears were ringing. Was it because she had forgotten to take her medicine today?

"Miss YLN?" she heard her boss' voice.

She turned immediately and forced a smile. "Yes, Mr Fischer?"

"I have an job interview scheduled for ten, would you be so kind as to prepare the conference room for it?"

"Of course, sir."

He stopped halfway and looked at YN questioningly. "Are you okay? You look so pale." She nodded quickly, forcing a smile. "Everything's fine, Mr Fischer." Fischer looked at her, raised his eyebrows, then handed her the key to the meeting room and disappeared back into his office.

A strange feeling of dizziness spread through her head as she walked down the long corridor leading to the conference rooms.

What was wrong with her today?

When it started to get dark outside, YN finally turned off her computer and reached for her bag. The strange dizziness had improved during the day, leading her to conclude that she simply needed a break from work. Fortunately, it was Friday. She knocked gently on Fischer's door, as she always did before leaving, to wish him a pleasant evening. He was sitting there as usual, his chin resting on his hand, deep in thought. He glanced up briefly and nodded politely, noticing her in the doorway. He looked stunningly handsome today, even after this long and exhausting day.

"I didn't ask you how the job interviews went this morning," she asked curiously. Fischer shook his head. "Terribly," he said. "None of these people I'd want in my company." His voice was cold and dismissive, and for a moment she thought he was referring to her, even though she knew he meant someone else. She smiled awkwardly and shrugged slightly. "Well, maybe the next one will be better."

Fischer remained silent.

"Have a good weekend, Mr Fischer."

"You too, Miss YLN." He gave her a friendly smile.

"Do you have any plans for the weekend? I know a good restaurant, would you like to join me?" The moment she realised what she had just said, she bit her lip, her face turning red. Had she completely lost her mind? She desperately hoped he hadn't heard what she'd asked, but it was too late. She could see Fischer raise his eyebrows in confusion and stare at her.

"No, Miss YLN. I'm not interested. I keep my work and personal life strictly separate." She immediately looked down, embarrassed. Thoughts raced through her mind like a rollercoaster and her cheeks felt as if they were on fire. "I'm sorry, Mr Fischer, I shouldn't have asked you that." She finally grabbed her bag and left the office without another word, feeling Fischer's gaze on her back.

It was drizzling lightly as she walked through the busy streets of London. The cold air did her good and she felt her head clear a little.

Why had she done this? It had been clear from the start that a man like him would reject her. But the words had come out of her mouth as if she had completely lost control. She felt a tear roll down her cheek and quickly wiped it away. She didn't want to have a mental breakdown in public, even though it felt like Fischer had torn her heart into a thousand pieces. Suddenly the strange dizziness returned and her vision blurred slightly. The sounds of London became muffled, as if she were incredibly far away.

"Miss YLN, wait!" she suddenly heard a voice behind her that seemed to be getting closer.

She turned around. The dizziness had disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. Startled, her eyes widened as she saw the person in front of her - it was Mr Fischer. What was he doing here? Had he followed her? She tried to speak, but all she could manage was a hoarse stutter.

"I wanted to apologize, Miss YLN. It wasn't very nice of me to brush you off like that," he said with a gentle laugh. His voice sounded strangely different, softer than usual. Wordless and spellbound, she stared into the pair of light blue eyes before her, apologetic and gentle in their expression. She knew Mr Fischer had blue eyes, but she'd never noticed how incredibly bright they looked.

"It's okay, don't worry," she managed to say, her knees shaking with excitement.

"No, no, Miss YLN. I'll think about the dinner offer, okay? Just because we work together doesn't mean we can't have dinner together, does it?" Fischer suggested, and she nodded slowly, then smiled.

Why this sudden change of heart?

"Well, see you soon." He waved goodbye and YN, still completely confused, raised her hand in response. But before she could form another thought, he had disappeared into the crowd.

Carefully, YN pressed the shutter on her old camera, focusing the lens on the small lake in front of her. Satisfied, she lowered it. She was confident that this snapshot would turn out well. This park was a place she often visited to clear her head and pursue her passion, photography, as it offered many beautiful subjects. Especially now, in autumn, when the trees were covered with colourful leaves and the silence was slowly descending, with only the occasional pedestrian passing by.

Her dizziness had eased a little, but not completely. Fortunately, it was Saturday and she had the whole day to herself. YN sat down on a bench under a tree that looked to be at least a hundred years old.

She sat there for a while, lost in thought. Eventually she got up and made her way to the West End. The streets of London were noisy and busy as she walked, looking for a warm place in a café and something to eat. Crowds of people rushed past her, music played from somewhere and loud voices filled the air. Exhausted, she rubbed her temples. Maybe she should have stayed home and rested.

Suddenly she held her breath as she spotted a familiar face in the crowd. Dark hair, high cheekbones and piercing blue eyes. Fischer. But before she could think, he had already noticed her and started to smile at her.

"Miss YLN, how nice to see you! What a coincidence!"

It was the first time she had seen him in his casual clothes rather than one of his business suits. But this was no less elegant and stylish. He was wearing a well-fitting black coat, a grey knitted jumper underneath and black trousers. It was so strange to see him outside his office at Fischer Morrow Company. Suddenly he didn't seem so unapproachable and distant anymore.

"What are you doing here?" she asked curiously.

He paused for a moment. He seemed to be considering whether or not to tell her.

"I took my little girl to her friend's house for a sleepover. She's been asking me for weeks because her mum won't let her."

"So you're a cool dad," YN replied.

Fischer rolled his eyes. "I'm the one who lets her get away with everything. We had to turn back twice because she realised she had forgotten her favourite stuffed animal and her toothbrush."

She laughed softly. In a strange way, she enjoyed him talking so openly about his life.

"Oh wow, that looks amazing. It's quite old, isn't it?" Mr Fischer pointed to the camera around her neck. "From the 1960s. But it takes incredibly good pictures for that time," she explained. Fischer seemed genuinely impressed. "Do you have more like it?"

"I have quite a few. From the 50s to the 80s, actually, and of course some modern digital cameras. Photography has been my passion since I was a child," she explained. Fischer looked at her with an interested smile. "So there's actually film in there that needs to be developed?" she nodded in confirmation. "Some photo shops still offer that service, yes."

Mr Fischer seemed genuinely interested in her hobby, asking her questions about it as they walked side by side through the streets of London. She felt incredibly comfortable in his presence and hoped he wouldn't leave so soon. Finally he pointed to the camera again. "Would you take a picture of me, please? I'd like a 60's style photo of myself." YN's heart began to beat faster in her chest. What had he just said?

"Of course, Mr Fischer," she replied nervously. "Robert. My name is Robert," he replied. Suddenly, she stopped in her tracks, completely surprised. No one at Fischer Morrow Ltd called him by his first name, and outside the company she had only heard his uncle, Peter Browning, call him Robert.

"Let's find a nice spot for the photo," he said, letting his gaze wander until it settled on a beautiful fountain.

Carefully, she picked up the camera, took a few steps back and held it directly in front of Robert's face. "Smile, please," she instructed him, finally pressing the shutter.

A pedestrian who had just passed them looked at YN with a confused expression and shook his head. Frowning, she looked after him before carefully tucking the camera into her handbag.

Are you hungry?" asked Robert. "We could go to a restaurant."

Surprised, she looked at him. "I don't know…" she said hesitantly, biting her lower lip. In fact, she had never expected to be asked such a question.

He looked at her with raised eyebrows and she could see the disappointment in his eyes. Finally, she worked up the courage to say what was on her mind.

"It's just… To be honest, you told me yesterday that you were someone who kept your work and personal life strictly separate. Maybe it would be better if we did. After all, I'm your employee."

As much as she wanted to spend time with him, she was afraid of developing even more feelings for him. Robert nodded slowly and shoved his hands into his coat pockets.

"I really like you. I just never wanted to show it, that's why I was so reserved with you and told you I wasn't interested in you".

She closed her eyes and let out a sigh as a ton of thoughts went through her head. Robert finally nodded at her with a slightly disappointed look on his face and turned on his heel.

"Wait!" she called after him.

He stopped immediately and looked at her hopefully.

"Let's give it a try, shall we?"

"YN… is that a French name?"

Robert's voice sounded slightly tipsy as he grinned curiously at her, twirling his wine glass casually in his hands.

He had taken her to a rather fancy and expensive place, the walls were dark wood panelling, the chairs were covered in red velvet and soft jazz music was playing on one of the radios. Robert looked hauntingly beautiful that night. His skin seemed incredibly soft and flawless, his jawline even more prominent, and his blue eyes shone almost ghostly in the dim light, almost like he wasn’t real…

She smiled, nodded and took a sip from her glass. "My father is French. I grew up in France but moved to England when I was 15."

He nodded with interest, rubbing his chin with his finger.

"And you? I heard you're Australian," she asked curiously.

Robert laughed and ran a hand through his dark hair. "Well, my accent makes it obvious."

YN blushed and looked down at her plate. What a stupid question.

But Robert didn't seem to mind too much, because he started talking about his life in Sydney, how he had finally moved to London after his father's death, and she listened with interest.

But suddenly he stopped and looked at her thoughtfully. "But I'm probably just boring you."

YN immediately shook her head. "No, you're not," she told him. "I find it really interesting to find out all this about you."

At that moment a waitress came to their table with a smile and asked YN in a friendly tone if she had enjoyed her meal. But the waitress paid no attention to Robert, YN noticed with surprise. Perhaps she was just being extra polite to the lady.

Robert pulled out a black leather wallet and rummaged through it. Quickly, YN pulled a few notes out of her habdbag and handed them to the waitress. "Keep the change," she said.

The waitress looked at her with wide eyes, "Thank you, ma'am," she said gratefully, "have a nice evening.

Then she turned and left the table.

"You didn't have to do that," Robert said. "As a gentleman, it's actually my job to pay."

She shook her head in amusement. "I bet that's never happened to you before, has it?"

Robert shook his head and took the last drink from his glass. There was a moment of silence between them.

"Okay. So what's the plan for the rest of the evening?"

She looked at him in surprise. As soon as he said the words, she felt a tingle in her stomach.

The church clock struck twelve as she crossed the street hand in hand with Robert. It was freezing, and she had pulled her scarf so far up her face that only her eyes and nose were visible. Her date looked at her with amusement. "Are you going to rob a bank?" he asked, laughing out loud.

"Shh!" she snapped at him, putting her fingers to his lips. "You'll wake up the whole neighbourhood."

Although it was quite dark and she could only make out Robert, she knew that his typical mischievous grin was back on his face. She pulled him firmly behind her until they reached the small white building.

"Is this where you live?" Robert asked.

She put her finger to his lips for a second time until Robert stopped talking and looked silently into her eyes. Her heart was beating in her chest as she finally stood on her toes, put her arms around his neck and placed her lips on his. Robert returned the kiss without hesitation and gently pulled her into his arms. YN could hardly believe what was happening. It was everything she had secretly wanted for months. They remained like this for a moment before she finally let go of him and reached for her key.

She felt for Robert's upper arm and finally pulled him into her apartment, closing the door behind him. She immediately wrapped her arms around him and began to kiss him again. His lips were a little cold and tasted of wine. Together they stumbled backwards into her bedroom, taking off his coat, which she tossed carelessly to the floor.

Robert's fingers stroked carefully along her hip and fumbled a little with her belt while she was busy putting little kisses on his neck. With slightly trembling hands she pulled his jumper over his head and Robert took her hand.

"Are you nervous?" he wanted to know. She remained silent.

"Don't be," he whispered softly into her ear, taking her in his arms again and pulling her onto the bed. Breathing softly, she clung to his chest, leaned back and finally closed her eyes as she felt his warm skin against hers.

The sun shone through the half-open curtains, creating a narrow, bright streak across the floor. Blinking, she opened her eyes and stretched. But immediately a sharp pain shot through her head again and she held her forehead tiredly. Confused, she sat up and tried to remember what had happened yesterday.

But when she heard soft breathing next to her, she turned quickly and all the events of last night came back to her. Smiling, she looked over at Robert, snuggled up next to her in her beige blanket, sleeping peacefully. Tenderly stroking his messy hair, she lay down beside him again and then began to caress his bare chest. Perhaps what they had done was wrong. After all, they were two people who should never have fallen in love. But it had happened, and it felt so right. They remained in this position for some time, Robert asleep and YN lost in thought.

Her eyes swept through the bedroom until they settled on a small white box on her dresser. Quickly sitting up, she reached for it and put a small pill into her mouth. Eventually, Robert began to move a little beside her, opening his eyes tiredly. Smiling broadly, she gave him a small kiss on the tip of his nose.

"Good morning," she whispered.

"Good morning," Robert murmured in a raspy morning voice.

"Did you sleep well?" she asked.

"Yes, wonderfully." He yawned loudly and took her into his arms as she laid her head lovingly on his shoulder.

"Wait, what time is it?" he suddenly wanted to know.

"Quarter past ten, why do you ask?" she replied.

"Shit," Robert muttered as he let go of the hug, jumped out of the bed and started to pick up his clothes, which were strewn all over the floor.

"Wait, wait, where are you going?" she asked, looking at him in confusion.

"I should've picked up my daughter by now," he replied, hurrying to get dressed.

Sighing, she pulled the blanket around her a little tighter. "Can't it wait? Can't you stay for breakfast?"

"I'm sorry, but I'm sure she's already waiting for me.“ Robert dodged her questions, grabbing his coat on the floor and sighing when he saw her disappointed look.

He walked slowly towards her, stroking her chin with his finger, and finally whispered: "We can catch up later." Then he put a soft kiss on her lips before turning around and disappearing through the door. She sank back into the pillows and pulled the blanket over her head.

The rest of Sunday flew by. Mostly because her mind was on Robert and she could hardly wait to see him again tomorrow at work. She had probably never looked forward to a Monday in her life as much as she did that day.

The next morning, YN carefully applied her lipstick and looked at herself in the bathroom mirror. She noticed that the collar of her white blouse was a little crooked and quickly adjusted it. She wanted to look her best for Robert today, so he wouldn't change his mind and lose interest in her.

Humming softly, she put on her black high heels and grabbed her handbag. She quickly put another pill into her mouth and put the box in her bag. Her headache was completely gone and her head finally felt clear and light again. In a good mood, she breathed in the fresh morning air and made her way to work.

Her heels clicked on the floor as she walked down the familiar corridor of Fischer Morrow. The lights were on in Robert's office. She ran a final hand through her hair, smoothed her blouse and opened the door to her own office.

The air was stuffy and hot. Coughing, she ran to the window and opened it.

"Good morning, Miss YLN, I hope you had a nice weekend," a familiar voice sounded from behind her.

Startled, she turned to see Robert's face as he stuck his head through the door, as he always did.

Why didn't he call her by her first name? Confused, she stared at him, trying to form a clear sentence. "But… But… we spent it together…" her voice finally broke. Her head suddenly hurt again.

He seemed so different again. Not the Robert she had spent the weekend with, not the one who had apologised for being too rude to her, not the one who had made her laugh and told her about his life. He seemed more like the one she had worked with for months, the one who never revealed anything about himself.

"Miss YLN? I haven't seen you since Friday, when you left my office after… asking me that question."

Her heart almost stopped. Suddenly her knees gave way and she sank to the floor.

"Are you okay? Are you feeling unwell?" Concerned, he bent down to her. "Do you want to go home and rest?"

She nodded slightly and wiped a tear from her eye, which had turned her fingers black from the carefully applied mascara. Then she got up and left the office.

At home, she lay motionless on her bed, tears streaming down her cheeks. She couldn't think straight and her throat felt incredibly dry. The door to her room, which was only ajar, opened gently and something small and white slipped through. Sniffling, she stretched out her arms and lifted her cat onto the bed.

Everything that had happened that weekend had been fake. She had made it all up. And all of this happened because she had forgotten to take the pills against her delusions. Robert hadn't really followed her on Friday evening; it was all a figment of her imagination. While his real self was still sitting in the office, probably not thinking about her at all. Everything suddenly made sense: why Robert looked a bit different, why his voice sounded different, the waitress who ignored him on Saturday because she couldn’t actually see him, the pedestrian who gave her a confused look because she was talking to herself while taking the photo.

The photo.

She immediately got up, put on her shoes and ran to the photo shop where she had left the film to be developed. Her heart raced as the staff handed her the envelope with the photos. Trembling, she finally grabbed the Saturday night photo, without looking at it herself, and held it up to the staff's face. "What do you see?" she asked.

The young man looked at her in confusion, but remained polite. "The fountain at Piccadilly Circus. Great picture, it turned out really nice."

"Anything else?" she asked.

"No, ma'am," he replied, and it felt like a slap in her face. Fischer had never been there with her. Only her lonely and sad mind had led her to believe that he was interested in her and loved her. Tears welled in her eyes and she left the shop without another word. When she got home, she immediately took the white box of pills from her handbag, rushed into the kitchen, opened it and poured the pills into the bin.

Crying and with burning eyes, she finally lay down on her bed and buried her head in the pillow as her cat purred softly beside her. She must have stayed like that for hours, as the sun began to set again outside her window. When she finally lifted her head and wiped the tears from her face, she saw a dark haired man sitting beside her bed, looking at her lovingly with his pale blue eyes. A smile suddenly appeared on her face and she began to laugh, pulling the man into a tight hug.

some explanations because i know that story is kinda mind-fucking:

• Is Robert Fischer all a creation of the readers mind?

- No he actually exists, he’s her boss and she‘s in love with hin but she imagines dating him.

• When is he real, when is he fake?

- - The Robert Fischer in the office is real, he turns her down when she asks him out, leaving YN heartbroken. The moment she leaves the office, she starts to imagine what it would be like if he apologised to her, so the man who follows her is just her imagination. The real Robert Fischer is still in his office at Fischer-Morrow.

When she visits the city on Saturday and meets "Robert" and goes on a date with him, it's also just her imagination. That's why other people react to her with confusion, because she's basically talking to herself all the time. On Sunday morning, when she wakes up next to him, he's still fake. When she takes her pills, he quickly "disappears" (he says he has to pick up his daughter...) because they stop her delusions.

On Monday morning, when she gets back to her office, the real Robert Fischer is there again, who hadn't seen her since he had rejected her on Friday evening.

When she gets home, she throws away her pills and her delusions start again. The man who sat next to her on the bed and comforted her is again the imaginary version of Robert.

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian #robert fischer x reader #robert fisch x yn #cillian x y/n #cillian masterlist #cillian x fem!reader #inception #inception fanfiction #Oppenheimer #tommy shelby

69 notes · View notes

tsukimefuku · 8 months ago

Text

Colleagues in arms

Nanami and Higuruma are dispatched on a mission together, having to conciliate their personal issues in order to get the job done.

tags: Jujutsu Kaisen, these two are a well coordinated duo, canon-typical violence.

wc: 3.7K

This is part of my "Jujutsu Partners Canon Divergence AU". A sequence of short stories and random drabbles related to Nanami x Reader x Higuruma. To see the ever-growing list of one-shots and short stories, please visit my masterlist :) This is especially preceded by "Right, wrong and the in-between epilogue" here, and "Team Fighting", here.

Disclaimer: these stories are NOT written and posted in chronological order of events. To see where this story fits in the timeline, please check the masterlist mentioned above.

There had been reports of a curse inside a government office used for safeguarding documents. The sheer bureaucracy to evacuate the few workers they had was enough of a hassle, delaying Nanami's and Higuruma's entrance.

That alone had rendered Nanami in a foul mood, given they'd only have around an hour and a half to exorcize this curse without incurring in overtime.

He found that highly unlikely to happen.

"You should be aware that I will not be sacrificing myself or taking any damage in order to save your life, so be mindful when in battle" Nanami said, while he and Higuruma made their way inside the building, and Ijichi lowered a veil over them. Nanami was referring to all the occasions that you saved Higuruma to your own detriment, and the supposedly main reason he still held resentment against the former lawyer.

To be fair, Nanami already questioned his luck when assigned this mission to shepherd on Higuruma, considering all the available options to accompany the former curse user other than himself.

Higuruma looked at him, and replied indifferently, "same to you, so perhaps we both shouldn't put ourselves in harm's way."

Nanami sighed and looked at his wristwatch. One hour and 26 minutes remaining for the end of his shift.

"So, this is common for jujutsu sorcerers? Having to exorcize curses inside government run buildings?" Higuruma asked, putting his hands in his pockets.

"I couldn't say. I don't pay much mind to that, specifically."

"Hm. And how often the work of a jujutsu sorcerer is related exclusively to exorcizing a curse, not involving curse users or other cursed energy related events?"

"I'd say about 90% of the times we're dispatched for a mission, it ensues solely exorcizing a cursed spirit" Nanami noted.

Higuruma huffed, seemingly amused with something, and began speaking again. "From what I've been told, curses just keep spawning as long as there is cursed energy leaking from non-sorcerers, right?"

"That is correct."

"So, are we Sisyphus?" Higuruma finally asked.

Slightly entertained by the commentary, Nanami decided to indulge it. "Constantly pushing the same boulder uphill, just to have it fall over and push it up again the next day? Yes, one could say that we are doing Sisyphus deeds."

"And all that while risking our death or the death or of our colleagues every time there is a curse to be exorcized?"

"Yes."

"Ah, this is idiotic work. Jujutsu sorcerers are idiots" the former lawyer replied, absentmindedly.

Nanami looked at him as he said that, nearly forgetting his distaste for the man for a moment.

"Interestingly enough, I've been saying the same thing for years."

***

“They’re what now?” You asked again, as Shoko slid her fingers on her phone’s screen, completely unbothered.

“They went together on a mission today. Since it was in a particularly important building that definitely should not withstand a lot of damage, Yaga didn’t want to send you to shepherd on Higuruma, because, I mean, you know” Shoko said, motioning an explosion with her hands right after, alluding to your cursed technique. "So you're stuck with me for the day."

“Oh, damn” you sighed to yourself, picking up your phone to text both men. From your last accidental joint mission, you remembered Nanami had a distaste for Higuruma. The situation had been like this ever since you got severely injured due to the former lawyer’s irresponsibility on the battlefield, and the 7:3 sorcerer certainly knew how to hold a grudge.

"What?” Shoko asked.

“I mean, Nanami hates Higuruma ever since the poisoning debacle.”

“Oh, he does?” Shoko asked, looking at you and smiling, something else behind it beyond simple amusement. “It figures.”

“Huh? Figures? Why?”

“Never mind” she said, brushing you off. "But why are you worried, anyway? It's not like they'll fail this just because they don't like each other. Nanami is a great sorcerer, and the lawyer guy seems to be at least a decent one."

"They'll probably headbutt their way through this" you sighed.

"Why are you so insistent that they get along, anyway?" She inquired.

"Well, first of all, Nanami is a close friend. Beyond that, Higuruma is also becoming a good friend, and I like the people I consider important in my life to get along. They'd be good friends if they got over their differences, that's all."

"'Close friend', huh?" She asked, grinning.

"Shoko, leave me alone" you replied, looking at her with a sour face, while you stepped out of the room, phone still in hand.

***

Nanami and Higuruma felt their phones vibrating at the same time.

Higuruma pulled it from his pocket to check it out, and saw a text message from you that said 'I hope your mission goes well today, try making new friends other than me'. He smiled and put it away.

"It is not advisable to check our phones when on duty, it can be a problematic distraction" Nanami pointed out, while they took the stairs to investigate each floor, one at a time. It would take some time, though, considering there were five floors, and they were still on the second.

"I believe I heard your phone, too" Higuruma replied.

"My phone did receive a message, yes" the other sorcerer replied.

"Well, I guess it's something you'll want to read, that's all."

Higuruma suspected you'd be up to antics like these, and he particularly knew how to poke curiosity into people, even the most stoic of them. Those such as his current mission partner.

Nanami held the urge to roll his eyes at himself, realizing the bait had worked on him. He pulled his phone quickly from his pocket, only to see a message from you. Upon reading it, the message just said 'please, be nice'. The man sighed heavily, and could hear Higuruma huff an almost chuckle.

"It's her, isn't it?" He inquired.

"It is" the ratio sorcerer answered, putting his phone away. "What did she send you?"

"She wished me a good day and told me to try 'making new friends'. And you?"

"She told me to be nice" Nanami replied as he involuntarily sighed, yet again, feeling his chest flattening.

"I have a deal, if it would interest you" Higuruma told Nanami, "given that it is evident she wants us to get along, and you still don't like me. It will take her off our backs."

Getting reeled in and completely aware of that, Nanami asked, "and what would that deal entail?"

"You tell me why you dislike me, I get a chance to make a statement myself, and if we still don't get along, we might just pretend we do just to get her off our case. I'd appreciate that a lot."

Higuruma knew full well that Nanami disliked him, and the ratio sorcerer, on the other hand, made no effort whatsoever to actually conceal his dislike for him. However, ever since the conversation the three of you shared about how important the Jujutsu Society potentially was, as flawed as it had always been, he'd grown to at least respect Nanami.

"Would you?" Nanami pretended to ponder for a second. "How unfortunate, then."

Higuruma sighed. "I'm disappointed, but not surprised."

They were both engulfed in silence until stepping up the metal stairs towards the third floor.

"I'll just probe you, then" the former lawyer stated, completely out of the blue, having Nanami grunt lowly in discontentment. He realized the 7:3 sorcerer was someone he'd be able to derive answers from by eliciting in Nanami the urge to correct anything he deemed to be a wrong statement.

Nanami entertained the idea of losing Higuruma inside the building and exorcizing the curse on his own, if even for a moment.

"Well, first of all, I believe you dislike me because I'm a former curse user" Higuruma began. Nanami stayed silent, so he proceeded, "and I also think your dislike stems from the occasion she was poisoned after our third mission, you two seem like close friends."

"She was poisoned due to your irresponsibility, you should add."

"Due to my irresponsibility, yes. But since then, I've apologized and improved. Also, there's a piece of information that I've learned from Shoko."

They were rounding the last corner on the third floor before proceeding to take the stairs again.

"And what would that be?" Nanami asked him, pushing his glasses into place.

"This wasn't the first time she was bedridden for aiding someone on the field. The same thing happened before, and from what I've been told, she was protecting you in that instance."

That definitely got under Nanami's skin, even if his impassive facade remained unwavering.

"Is that so?" He began. "You must've learned, also, that it wasn't due to recklessness on my end, but due to unforeseen circumstances during our mission that made her sacrifice the best alternative in place."

"If you could have stopped her, even considering her decision was the best at that moment, would you have done so?" Higuruma asked, looking directly at the other sorcerer.

Nanami stayed silent for a few moments. "Yes, I would."

"Me too. I'd prefer taking the hit."

Nanami looked at Higuruma, slightly caught off guard. The other continued to speak.

"Unfortunately, that woman does what she wants, and we're left to deal with it" Higuruma answered, looking forwards. "We are in a more similar situation than you'd like to admit, so my current hypothesis is that's precisely the reason you dislike me. Am I remembering you about your own guilt from that event?"

Nanami chose to be silent, as he was having flashbacks from you probing him like a relentless little devil. He felt a small surge of nostalgia and annoyance at that, simultaneously.

Maybe Higuruma was more akin to you, after all.

They rose through the stairs towards the third floor, and still no sign of the curse, or remnants from cursed energy that could be used as leads. Nanami noticed it, given he knew how unusual that was.

"So, is this normal? Not bumping into anything throughout the entire vicinity, or most of it, when looking for a curse?" Higuruma asked the ratio sorcerer, almost as if reading his mind.

"No, it definitely is not. We should be on high alert from now" Nanami replied, pulling his blunt blade from his back. Following suit, Higuruma manifested his gavel on his hand, having it being around the size of a katana.

Rounding the last corner and walking down the hall towards the stairs, they finally felt the cursed energy emanating from the fifth floor.

"Go ahead, I'll follow your lead" Higuruma said to Nanami, much to the latter's surprise. Apparently, you had been training Higuruma on coordinating with other sorcerers when in joint missions, and he clearly learned some things.

Nanami nodded and proceeded to go upstairs, just to be met by a passage closed with vines. Their cursed energy, though, was very faint, what would explain why neither him nor Higuruma had sensed the cursed spirit's presence. It felt almost like a non-cursed entity.

Using his blunt blade, Nanami struck a 7:3 critical hit on the vines, tearing them apart completely. On the last floor, the walls, floor, and ceiling were all completely covered in leaves, flowers and branches, and the flowery humid smell was overpowering.

Both sorcerers stepped inside, and the vines behind them closed the path back down again.

Nanami began walking in front of Higuruma, and stopped every thirty to forty steps or so in order to make a cursed energy marking over the vines where the walls should be.

Remembering Higuruma was still somewhat new to this job, he thought it would be a good idea to explain what he was doing, if only for the man to learn something.

"I'm currently leaving breadcrumbs as we walk" Nanami began, "because this curse has covered the entire floor. Curses and cursed techniques are able to, sometimes, bend time or space, so-"

"So you're making sure this one isn't putting us in some sort of spatial loop, or has broken physics." Higuruma interjected. "Making cursed energy markings is the best way to do so, since these vines regenerate and would easily cover any other thing, like an object, for instance. The cursed energy markings leave remnants that we can feel in case they get covered up."

Nanami was pleasantly surprised at how quickly Higuruma was able to grasp the workings of jujutsu sorcery and curse exorcising.

"I see you have been dedicating some time to learn about the work of jujutsu sorcerers."

"Of course. This is the way forced on me to atone for my crimes. I should at least try to be the best I can be at it."

***

They had been trying to cut the curse down to shreds for at least thirty minutes. However, every time they did, the curse instantly grew back, covering every area on the fifth floor.

The cursed energy markings, however, had not disappeared or shifted places, proving that neither of them was stuck inside a spatial loop, just dealing with a very annoying curse.

Even though there was a desire to preserve the integrity of the building's internal structure, which stopped Nanami from using his collapse technique, the sorcerer asked himself if it wasn't better to just have you called instead of him and Higuruma. Your cursed technique would be a much better fit for this, especially when using the corrosive type of grenades.

"They should've called her, she'd melt these things in no time" Higuruma said, sitting on the ground to rest a little before coming up with another plan other than trying to blunt force all the vines away.

"Hm, I was just thinking the same thing" Nanami replied, "but apparently they couldn't, because this is a place used by the government to keep records of some sort. They couldn't risk having it destroyed."

"So, let's take some time to come up with a plan?" Higuruma asked. Nanami checked and about forty minutes had passed, to which he sighed.

"Why do you keep checking your watch?"

"Because my shift should be over by 6 PM, and I loathe having to work overtime."

Higuruma sighed, scratching his forehead. "You're probably right."

They were both silent for a moment, before Nanami began speaking again.

"How does your domain expansion work?" This was the first time that Nanami actually spared some time to ask Higuruma about his cursed techniques, and the former lawyer was a little surprised his colleague actually asked him about it.

"Well, it was the first thing I ever manifested. My domain expansion is an extension from what I used to work with before becoming a curse user, and later on a jujutsu sorcerer. My shikigami puts my opponent on trial. The target gets to make a statement, I do a rebuttal, and then Judgeman issues its sentencing. The options are absolution, confiscation and death penalty. The last one turns my gavel into a sword that can kill or exorcize anything upon immediate contact. But the tried one has to be sentient, so I don't think I could do it against this curse, it barely resembles a curse."

"Your domain was the first thing you manifested?" Nanami asked, somewhat surprised.

"Yes. Is that uncommon?"

"Very. I don't have a domain expansion, just like most sorcerers."

"Oh, I didn't know" Higuruma admitted.

Nanami sighed for a moment, knowing they'd be stranded there for a while, before asking, "how did it happen?"

He had finally become curious about his colleague, after realizing the man wasn't such a bad sorcerer after all, and found that conversing with him was actually interesting. They had to take a break after all, to come up with some plan in order to exorcize this pest of a curse.

"Well, I had a client that was innocent. The evidence in his favor was abundant. He got a favorable verdict the first time around, but then, after the prosecution appealed, his innocence verdict was overturned, basically because neither judge nor prosecutor were actually trying to administer justice. They simply wanted to appease the media. I was so incredulous and angry that my cursed technique manifested in the Courtroom, and-"

Higuruma took a breather.

"And I killed them both of them out of my own volition. That's all. Then I just went around Morioka exorcizing curses until she found me and brought me to Tokyo." He sighed. "Did you know Japan has a 99% conviction rate? It's... It was hard, trying to fight a loosing war. By the end, it also felt like pushing a boulder uphill over and over again, except I rarely reached the peak of the mountain."

Nanami could sympathize, having been someone chewed by jujutsu sorcery and, for some time, corporate cogs himself.

"What about you? You left jujutsu sorcery for a while, from what I could understand."

Nanami sighed and pushed his glasses up his nose before continuing. "I did. I worked for a an over-the-counter brokerage house as soon as I left Jujutsu High."

"Really? Which one?"

After Nanami answered the name, Higuruma scoffed.

"When I was in law school, they plucked students out of the classroom like weeds in a field."

"Is that so?" Nanami inquired.

Higuruma nodded. "The ones that went there were basically the people that went to law school for money."

Nanami let out an almost chuckle at that. He wasn't the only one on that sprint, after all.

Higuruma was silent for a moment, before proceeding. "Why did you come back?"

"Because even though I thought jujutsu sorcery was idiotic when I left, and still do, I discovered that a 9 to 5 job is just as idiotic. Out of the two idiotic things I could do, I chose the one I'm better at."

"Hm" Higuruma hummed, tilting his head as he looked at Nanami.

"What?" The ratio sorcerer asked.

"Doesn't ring very true, no offense. You don't seem like the utilitarian type to that degree" the former lawyer answered.

"What do you mean?"

"You look like you actually care" Higuruma replied.

"Hm, interesting. You're the second person to tell me that."

***

After chatting for a while, Nanami and Higuruma had come to the conclusion that the curse would probably have a main core from where the vines stemmed from, and began following them to find the source.

The vines were all leading towards an office right in the middle of that floor, which was completely closed from the outside by a considerably thick wall of branches. Nanami quickly opened their passage way, striking a hit with his blunt blade, and both sorcerers darted inside the room before the vines closed off once again.

Now inside, they could see right in the middle of the office a towering silhouette from where all the vines were probably stemming from.

Right after they entered, some vines lifted from the ground, and began whipping in their direction.

Nanami fended off most of the blows that came at him with his blunt sword, meanwhile Higuruma did the same with his gavel, now turned into a blade to sever the ends of the tendrils as he did so. Both sorcerers were back to back with each other, and made their way slowly towards the curse's core.

Unexpectedly, one vine wrapped around Nanami's foot, knocking him down on the ground. Higuruma was quick to notice, and swiftly cut the tendril, freeing his colleague. Upon reaching his arm to help Nanami up, a new vine darted towards the ratio sorcerer as he rose, being instantly cut by Higuruma's free hand before it could ever reach the other sorcerer.

"Are you okay?" The former lawyer asked, resuming their back to back stance.

"Yes. Thank you" Nanami answered. He was fairly impressed as to how Higuruma was carrying himself in the field, being attentive to his partner in battle, and reaching out when needed. "Did you train fighting alongside other sorcerers recently?"

"No, I danced!" Higuruma answered, smiling, as he saw an opening dashed towards the core.

What? Nanami didn't understand what Higuruma was referencing, and followed him to finish exorcizing this curse.

Both sorcerers hit the core at the same time, destroying most of it.

The remainder of the core, as well as the vines, began dissipating slowly, and after a short while, there was no trace of the cursed left spirit behind.

Upon checking his watch, right after getting into the car with Higuruma, Nanami saw that there were 5 minutes left to 6 PM, and felt incredibly pleased.

"So, no overtime?" Higuruma asked, half jest, as he smiled.

"No overtime" Nanami answered, smiling discreetly.

"So, where are you two headed now?"

"I think I could use something to eat. Not dinner, but maybe a snack" Higuruma answered, absentmindedly. He then asked Ijichi to drop him off at an address that Nanami found to be familiar.

"There's a bakery there" he noted, looking at Higuruma.

Higuruma nodded, "yes. I really like their coffee, but the best thing they sell is the ciabatta with pesto and cured ham."

"I know that bakery. That really is their best sandwich. It's the perfect fit for salty and bitter when eaten with coffee" Nanami stated.

"I know, right? It's my usual when I go there."

Nanami seemed to ponder for a moment.

"I believe I might join you before heading home" the ratio sorcerer said, looking at his watch. "After all, it's still early, thankfully."

Higuruma's phone vibrated, and he picked it up.

There was a message from you, asking how was your mission? Did you make new friends?

"Is it her?" Nanami inquired.

"Yes. She asked me if I made new friends" he retorted, amused. "So, did I?" Higuruma then questioned, looking at Nanami.

Nanami looked back at him for a moment, before answering, "a colleague".

"Fine, then" the former lawyer concluded, before putting his phone back in his pocket, and extending his hand to Nanami. "Colleagues in arms?"

Nanami looked at him for a second, before acquiescing to the handshake. "Colleagues in arms."

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #nanami kento #jjk fanfic #jjk nanami #jujutsu nanami #higuruma hiromi #jjk higuruma #jjk imagines #kento nanami

49 notes · View notes

neurodivergentbraingoblins · 1 year ago

Text

Story time about how being "inclusive" is often used as pretty jewlery to make workplaces seem less shitty than they are.

So I used to work for a place that did workers compensation claims. I was a data entry worker - essentially my job was to processes all incoming and outgoing documents and make sure they digitally got attached to the correct claim so other people could do their job.

I had been working at this place for about 6 months, and we had a MASSIVE turnover in people. Like over half my team/coworkers quit. Well, I just happened to be really, really good at data entry work. My pattern recognition skills and OCD compulsions were a perfect fit for this job. Even management constantly would say how impressed they were with the amount of work I could get done.

Here's the problem - the 2 other people who didn't quit during the turnover were my superiors. They had problems with the way I communicate (AuDHD). So instead of dealing with it, they openly harassed me in group chats. Our boss would see the chats and then call them out on it and tell them to stop.

Fast forward a few months later. Shit is getting crazy for our company as we were expanding. I'm getting harassed constantly by all my "teammates" and from higher ups. I go to HR about the concern and they decide to have me just directly report to our boss. But the problem wasn't solved. I still had to work with and ask questions to the team who obviously hated me. Simply because I communicate and work differently than I do. I was always willing to help them get caught up on work, but never the other way around.

So I've been at this place for about a year now and I'm testing a brand new method of cataloging data to the correct files. (Example- adding medical records for a specific person to their specific digital file so the adjuster assigned to the claim can review it). Turns out something broke with the process and over 700 files were lost.

So I get pulled into a very sudden meeting with me, the 2 teammembers who were my superiors and my boss. They are freaking out trying to figure out how to fix this. When I could finally get a chance to speak I told them I had backups of most of the files. They all went silent and just stared at me.

I explained that the way the process worked gave me anxiety because of this very potential issue. Once the files were uploaded to the claims, they were deleted from the storage location. Gone permanently. I didnt want to be the one responsible for losing important documents if something when wrong, so as a precaution (and a newly developed OCD compulsion) I would save most files to a different folder as a backup (usually just the files I had to convert from one format (ex: word doc) to a PDF).

Turns out I ended up saving the company thousands of dollars and thousands of work hours. My boss literally said to my face "your OCD saved the day! You're a hero!". The very next day everyone was back to being upset at me for how I did my job 😅

Well, over the course of my year there, management put together a COMPANY WIDE MANDATORY meeting about inclusivity and anti-discrimination. Of course I attended and I was having to hold back tears and laughter as everyone made all these promises to not judge people and to be open to "other working styles". The meeting was a 5 hour long meeting with different games and activities. You could tell the company execs were so proud of themselves for the meeting.

The very next day I received the perfect example of what NOT to do from my own boss who helped lead the company meeting! Essentially she heard a rumor that I was setting up meetings with other departments to work on things that hadn't been approved through the proper channels. She pulled me into a virtual meeting and, I kid you not, lectured me for 5 minutes straight about how that wasn't allowed. When I finally got a chance to speak I calmly told her I'd never done anything like that before. I admitted that occasionally I would ask someone else questions in a random email here or there when it related to what we were talking about. But I had never done any of the things she just accused me of and lectured me about. She was "assuming the worst and the negative instead of something positive" which was one of the core values we had spent almost an hour on at the meeting the day before.

I immediately went to HR crying. What was the point of that ridiculous mandatory meeting if the company superiors were still going to discriminate against me??? Well after a year of putting in hard work for them, fighting against all the harassment they threw at me, and doing my best to advocate for myself I ended up quiting. It was an amazing paying full time (40hr) job that fit my skills perfectly. But I had to quit because I couldn't stand listening to them say "we love your OCD and it really helps the company, but you need to stop doing things that way. It is really annoying and takes too long. Plus your coworkers don't like it. But keep giving us those same results! You really are our best worker!"

My OCD was turned into a joke. Something that was only okay when it benefitted them, but a disgusting trait to hide away when it didn't.

Tldr: I gave a year of my life to a company that outwardly toted being "inclusive" while simultaneously being harassed for my OCD and AuDHD symptoms. All while being told my "OCD saves the company money but like, can you please stop doing things that way? Thanks!"

#actually ocd #ocd #obsessive compulsive disorder #actually adhd #actually autistic #actually audhd #adhd adult #adhd brain #adhd #autistic adult #autistic #inclusivity #discrimination #disability #disabled #physical disability #physically disabled #mentally disabled #mental disability

103 notes · View notes

captainharlock · 4 months ago

Text

update on my whole life and everything since smt big just happened and i feel like the people i know thru here + comm clients would like to know whats going on with me haha

okay sooooo a lot of you probs already know that i've been trying to immigrate to the US to live with my girlfriend permanently, and applying for it and waiting for it all to process has been a years long process (we started in early 2022, processing for these things takes so long sigh)

but back in march-ish? this year i finally got word that my stuff went through and i had to do a bunch of jumping jacks and send in a bunch of documents to make them give me instructions on how to get an interview date. which they only gave me like, a month and a half ago? and i've been doing the instructions diligently (most of it has been medical stuff)

so after a few more weeks of being so scared and anxious and feeling like the world is about to end unless i do everything so quickly, i FINALLY got my appointment with the US consulate in montreal!

it's in.... october. their nearest date was october. which sounds disappointing because like, yknow, i'd like to go live with my girlfriend and start my life for real soon, but i am trying to be optimistic about because hey that means i can breathe for a sec. (i'm even planning on getting all my teeth fixed in the time before my appointment! my problems with my teeth physically and mentally are an entire other post though.)

i feel..... good! i feel good. most of the mind demons plaguing me now are just the woes of being in a transitional phase. i don't know why, but i just hate it. i cannot stand it. so go easy on me haha. more time for commissions now so stay tuneddd <3 love y'all thanks for reading

#chandni journal

32 notes · View notes

vertumnanaturalis · 3 months ago

Text

The Exocolonists of Vertumna (tumblr edition) Part 1: The starborn children of the Stratospheric

Sooo this is something I've been wanting to work on making for awhile, a tumblr text post addon for the big chunky npc list I've had for over a year. There's a lot of data I've accumulated over time that just doesn't fit in a google sheet in a decent way, and so I've been wanting to make some text posts to cover ideas that don't fit in my sheets, or might be an easier read for people who find my documents confusing.

I try to pull from canon as much as possible, and use speculation taken from a long hyperfixation on the concept of generation ships or bunkers and love for sci-fi media about it. The idea behind this list has always been to provide people with both an accessable set of easily usable/chuckable/maimable/fuckable/killable/ect names and ideas to fluff out the background of your own stories and with an illusion of consistancy, and to offer insight into my own headcanons that I've developed, so that people can take any bits and pieces they want and re-examine or reuse or recycle how they want. As always, I'll still try to mark which info is explicitly canon, but theres a lot of blanks to be filled in and my take on how things could be explained is far from the only one.

This one is gonna be an overview of the 54 people born on the Stratospheric and some approximate either in-universe or out-of-universe explanations for why things are structured the way they are. Future ones will cover specific sub-sections of those shipborn Stratos, overviews and department-specific pages about the adults of the Stratospheric, matching pages for people of the Heliopause, the children born during the final two years of the game, and even data for the kids possibly born beyond that.

In the earliest stages of drafting the ships population, the founders had planned to have exactly 100 people on the Stratospheric when it left Earth, primarily composed of their brightest and most promising between ages 10 and 25 (in local Earth years), and that 35 children would be born in five groups of seven during its 21(e)/20 (local Vertumna years) year journey, the maximum they could have fit in that ideal situation. On launch day in reality, the ship left with only 86 out of it's planned 100. Several of their important specialists were intercepted en-route to the launch pad, and a handful of their volunteer teenagers backed out in the final days and hours, while the reserve choices they had on hand were children chosen for their genetic diversity rather than skills or potential, with Utopia being an especially young outlier at just shy of 3(e). Outside of her and their sole member of generation one, Captain Eudicot, the ships population ran from original Chief Administrator Chiffon at 33(e) down to little Jubilation at 6-and-a-half(e). In one of the final documents outlined by the Earth colony's leaders in the hours before liftoff, the plans for the third generation were expanded from 35 to 50, adjusted for the younger leaning launch population and all the changes it entailed.

Similar to the founders original plan, spacer kids were still divided into five age groups (A, B, C, D, and E), with at least a year between the youngest person in one group and the eldest of the next. Half of this was to give the ship's lone acting physician a break period where there were no fresh infants or pregnancies to worry about, and the other half was to give the ship's administration time to carefully plan out the next set of children; How many children would be in this group, who was going to gestate the pregnancies, who their social parents would be (if any), what augments Instance would give them, and, most importantly, keeping an eye on the current genetic and social diversity of the third generation, so that they did not reach a genetic or social bottleneck too quickly (ie incest in a social setting, even if the two individuals are not genetically related). All of the embryos that would become the next group of children were created in the same few month period of time and cryofrozen until they were due to be implanted in the person chosen to gestate them. There were a number of extra rules that the Vertumna Group had written out that ultimately Eudicot and the council decided to abandon to at some point in the trip, all for various reasons, and not all by unanimous vote;

That there would be no need for drastic changes in the current groups' plans once the planning stage was over.

That every pregnancy would only include one fetus, with post-implantation embryo splits being selectively reduced.

None of the children born on the Stratospheric would have any genetic relationship with one another, and parents having more than one child would be discouraged, and that in cases where siblings did occur, either each sibling would only take genes from one parent (in family units with 2+ parents) or only the eldest child would have genetic relation to their parent and any following child would be purely from donated dna (for family units with only one parent).

That, at minimum, a quarter of every group should be set asside to for children with no dedicated family attachments, both to better. adhere to the group's original idea of having no parents, but also to give the young colony a bit more padding against the looming threat of everyone being second or third cousins in only a few generations.

Another rule that, while not completely abandoned, was less and less considered as the years went on was one that mandated how many embryos of each cluster were planned to develop with a genetically likely physiology that could get pregnant, a physiology that could get others pregnant, or anything in the vast array of historically normal and genetech introduced non-reproductive physiologies. This was never intended to determine the gender of the resulting children and any gene therapy they want or require in the future, or guarentee that the embryo would fully develop in the "intended" (solely in regards to their future reproductive capibilities, without further gene therepy involvement) way, but rather an attempt to gamble that at a decent number of the third generation would be able to continue the human species in the event their genetech was lost prematurely. For the original plan with 5 groups of 7, each group was to have a minimum of 3 embryos with an expected physeology that would be able to carry a pregnancy, 3 that could sire a pregnancy, and the 7th wouldn't have any requirements. The 3/3/1 ratio was followed exactly only during the first group, while following groups would only roughly follow this plan. In total, 54 children were born between leaving Earth and arriving at the wormhole; 30 out of them having siblings of some kind, with 10 of those children being born in sets of multiples (with two sets of twins and two sets of triplets) - with only one accidental post-implanation embryotic split resulting in two of those children - with 16 of the children have some genetic relationship with one another (though, with the exception of the identical sisters, none closer than genetic half siblings); and ultimately, only 9 children were explicitly born to be raised in the creche without parentage.

The 54 children of the Stratospheric:

Group A: The oldest spacer kids, they'd be adults at landing by Helio standards but they're still minors by the culture of the Vertumna group, coddled and babied more at landing than Sol when they reach the same age down the road, even if they still have adult jobs and responsabilities.

Cosmozoa "Cosmo" - he/him - 18

Lilium "Lili" - she/her - 18

Sorrel - he/him - 18 - A canon name and job, rest of info is fanmade

Benevolence "Bena" - she/her - 18

Edamame "Ed" - he/him - 17

Malagma "Mal" - they/them - 17

Absinthe "Abby" - any pronouns, feminine formal terms - 16* (17th birthday shortly after New Year day but before landing on Vertumna)

Group B: Kom's age group, with him as the oldest of the bracket, still young enough to be discovering themselves but old enough that the adults are rapidly giving them more responsibilities than their upperclassmen were at the same age. A series of unlikely and specific events led to the existance of the ships first set of multiples, and their existance provides in-universe backstory and reasoning for why some of the following children exist.

Kombucha "Kom" - he/him - 15

Quinine "Quinni" - they/them, later + he/him - 15 - same deal as Sorrel, even being named in the same event

Thicket - Any, masculine familiar terms - 14** (15th birthday after arriving on Vertumna but before Sol wakes up in medbay)

Opulence "Opal" - she/her - 14

Vertex "Tex" he/him - 14

Tempest "Pem" - she/her + They/them - 13* (same as Abby)

Chrysocolla "Chrys" - they/them - 13

Triplets Coriander "Cory" (he/him) , Scallopini "Pina" (she/her) , and Amaretto "Ame" (she/her) - 13 - Pina and Ame are the identical sisters mentioned above, while their fraternal brother Cory is genetically unrelated to them

Falchion "Kion" - he/him - 13

Group C: Sol's age bracket, most of these kids are canon and need no explanation

Arroyo "Ary" - he/him - 11

Aspartame "Tammy" - she/her - 11

Recalcitrance "Cal" - he/him - 11

Simplicity "Plic" - she/her - 11

Peregrine "Penny" - she/her - 10

Evanescence "Evan" - he/him - 10

Philosophy "Sully" - they/them - 10

Marzipan "Marz" - she/her - 10

Solanaceae* "Sol*" - they/them* - 9** name varies by timeline, but all of my documents will refer to our player character as Sol, and primarily but not exclusively with they/them pronouns; their 10th birthday is very notibly after they land on Vertumna shortly into the new year

Anemone "Annie/Nem/Nemmie/[Determined by player choice]" - she/her - 9

Twins Dysthymia "Dys" (he/him) and Tangent "Tang" (she/her) - 9 - in all of my headcanon documents, including this one, I am going with the idea that they are planned fraternal twins with seperate sperm donors; I know the take that they were idetical twins is a common one, but it isn't actually a canon one; nothing in the game actively states this, the idea that they were identical is simply a common and very reasonable take on the information the game gives us, but it was never something I got from playing the game myself. If you're curious about all the exact reasons for this you can send an ask and I'll elaborate.

Group D - The younger kids, like Anemone's triplet brothers, half of them have their holopalms installed but still spend a lot of time in the creche when they land. All but the eldest three are kids Sol and Tammy babysit, and 100% of them are kids Sol can later tutor in school

Hawthorn "Hawth" - they/them - 7

Hyaline "Lin" - any - 7

Sepia - she/her - 7

Triplets Cirrus, Stratus, and Cumulus (all he/him) - 6** (same as Thicket) - we never get their exact age, but they're listed as being 7 years old when the game starts in an only mostly correct game file character sheet, the triplets ended up being technically 6 at the start because of an early whoopsie daisy during early npc documentation

Mistletoe "Misu-Misu" - she/her - 6

Kelvin - he/him - 6

Effervesence - he/him, later + they/them - 5

Vendetta "Detta" - she/her, later + they/them - 5

Necterine "Nena" - she/her - 5

Group E - The youngest of the generation, all toddlers and babies on arrival, space born in technicality, but children of Vertumna in every other way. The largest of the groups with 13 children included, and the group with the most imaginative and most untested augments.

Nougat - she/her - 3

Nimbus - he/him - 3 - similar to the cloud triplets, we never get his age beyond that he's "little Nimbus", but he's old enough to be in school when Sol first unlocks the tutoring job so I put him at Nougat's age

Panache "Pan" - he/him - 2

Maraschino "Chino" - he/him & she/her - 2 -while Chino does appear in game with only the he/him pronouns used, "Marachino "Chino" with the pronouns he/him"'s age is never directly given in-game, a "Marachino "Mara" with the pronouns she/her" and an age of 2 is listed in the same file that gives the cloud triplet's their approximate age and listed as a child encountered during babysitting, so I went with a middle ground of having this character use both pronouns and later both nicknames

Tessera "Tess" - she/her - 2

Macaroni "Mac" - she/her & he/him - 1 - the child with the no pain augment is refered to with he/him pronouns in-game, but I went with a similar deal to Chino for variety

Contrivance "Connie" - he/him - 1 - the child with the shark teeth augment is also refered to with he/him pronouns

Ketamine "Ket" - they/them - 1

Maxilla "Max" - he/him - 0

Twins Whimsy and Praline (both she/her) - 0 - while one of Dys's late game/high skill events has him talking about how at one point he and Tangent were "The Twins" prior to their relationship crumbling apart, I thought it would be narratively fitting to have a younger set of twins being planned/conceived/born at the same time as their relationship falls apart as Tangent gets further into genetics (where said twins were being made), making him and Tang lose their status as being "The Twins" in multiple ways

Benzodiazepine "Benji" - he/him - 0

Enigma "Ena" - she/her - 0 - the youngest child from the Strato's third gen and last one to be born in space is refered to with she/her pronouns as a baby, opted to keep those pronouns as she grows older

In total, the shipborn children and teenagers account for roughly 40% of it's landing population (39.7% when arriving at the wormhole, and 42.2% after the canonly unavoidable loss of life during it's landing). This number combined with the chaos of living on a new planet and the very likely scenario of the ship's brown dirt being lost would be a good starting explanation for some of the glaring failures in child wellfair and safety during the 10 years we see during the game, but definately not an excuse. The next post is going to be either a quick overlook of the gen 2 Strato characters or a more detailed post for one of the specific gen 3 groups, detailing things like birthdays and augments, with posts detailing the adult npcs and all the Helios and planetborn children coming later.

Also, as there was no decent way to include this higher up the list, here are the sibling sets discussed earlier;

Sorrel, Thicket, and Misu [only Sorrel shares any dna with their mother, Thicket and Misu are both entirely from donor dna]

Kom, Anemone, Cirrus, Stratus, Cumulus, and Nimbus [Kom and Anemone are genetic half siblings with 50% of their genes from Anne, while the following boys only have between 15 and 35% coming from Anne, with the rest from multiple donors]

Opal and Ves [Opal only shares her mother's dna, while Ves only shares his father's]

Tex and Ary [only Tex has his father's dna, with Arroyo's embryo coming from Earth]

Cory, Pina, and Ame [None of the trio have their mother's dna, and the embryo that became Cory shared no dna with the embryo that split into Pina and Ame]

Kion, Penny, and Sepia [One of the three is only genetically related to one of their two parents, another is only genetically related to the second parent, and the third is entirely from donor dna or an Earth embryo, but only Instance knows which of the three is which, as all three were created (or selected) at the same time for this exact scenario]

Sully and Ket [occupy a unique space as sorta step-siblings, as they both have single parents who begin a romantic relationship after landing]

Dys and Tang [explained above]

Kelvin and Pan [occupy another unique space as social half-siblings, with Kelvin being born to a single father who entered a relationship after he was born, but his father's partner is very explicitly not his mom genetically or socially]

Detta and Connie [a similar deal to Opal and Ves, but I haven't mapped out which parent is which yet]

Nena and Chino [genetic half siblings, with both taking dna from their mother and Nena taking dna from one of their fathers and Chino taking it from the other]

Whimsy and Praline [they don't share any genetic material with one another or their mom, and an in-universe rumored reason for it is that their mom had been the egg donor for one of the older children]

Also, the creche children who were born at the behest of the colony without any specific designated parents in mind

Bena

Mal

Chrys

Plic

Hawth

Lin

Nougat

Tess

Max

Side note: Canonically, Anemone's brother Kom is the oldest shipborn child we see, and while I believe Lindsay intended for Kom to be the oldest member of gen 3 after Utopia, this is never actually stated in the game, and I was surprised to see that it was the intent as it never came across to me that way during my initial playthroughs. Nothing in here explicitly ignores or goes against anything said or mentioned in the game proper, but I know that having any of the kids be older than Kom is probably the not the most canon way to construct the generations layout. One of the canonly used names in the game, "Sorrel", has been given to one of these teens, but there is neither anything for or against Sorrel being this age, as the only information we get beyond a name is a manner of death and a place of work.

#i was a teenage exocolonist #iwatex #npc catalog #my headcanons #my docs #kinda sorta #I started this several days ago in the wake of my cat passing away and I'm only now finishing it at 1 am and scheduling it for tomorrow #also no I did not spell check any of this I refuse <3 #it might've been nice to have this first one done before the anniversary but framing it like that would've given my an anxiety attack tryin #to finish it on time #so a day late is fine

17 notes · View notes

viesanterieures · 11 months ago

Text

Locked In Mind

Robert Fischer (Inception) x female Reader

note: Welcome to my third Cillian Character fanfic, hope you like it :) I love plots like Shutter Island and tried to do something similar here & it‘s also a story about parasocial relationships and unrequited love.

word count: 5000+

Masterlist

warnings: mental illness, depression

you don‘t have to watch the movie to understand the story.

It was just half past seven when she heard the familiar footsteps in the corridor approaching the office next door. A key was inserted into the lock and a moment later the door opened.

Glancing around to make sure her workspace wasn't too messy, she threw an old paper cup into the bin before her boss poked his head through the door.

"Good morning, Miss YN, so busy already?" he asked with a tired smile. "It doesn't reflect well on me as a boss to have my assistant here before me. I'm sorry, Monday mornings are always a bit stressful for me."

"No problem, Mr Fischer. I've already sorted the mail for you, it's on your desk," she said kindly, watching him as he took off his coat and hung it on the coat rack, a little damp from the rain.

"Thank you, I can count on you."

Immediately her cheeks flushed and she turned back to her computer screen, but by then Mr Fischer had already approached her and placed some documents on her desk. "Please scan them all and email them to Mr Parker, he's been waiting for them for days," he said to her. It would be best if we sat down together later and quickly discuss my tasks for today, there is a lot to do. If I'm not mistaken, I have a client meeting at three today.

"At two, sir," she corrected him, handing him a planner with today's date thickly underlined.

He started to grin. "You see, this is exactly why I have an assistant."

Fischer disappeared into his office.

The days flew by and she finally felt as if she had been employed by Fischer Morrow for an eternity. But who Robert Fischer really was remained a mystery.

YN looked at her watch. "It's almost half past seven, don't you want to finish your work soon? Don't you have a wife waiting for you?"

Mr Fischer shrugged. "I've been divorced for a few years now, and I only see my daughter at weekends. The only thing waiting for me is an empty, dark apartment."

YN held her breath. It was the first time he had told her anything about his private life. But in the same second, he seemed to regret his words.

"No one waits for me either," she said. "Except for my cat."

Fischer raised an eyebrow with a smile. "At least that's something."

Finally she said goodbye and left the office. But all the way home, she kept thinking about her conversation with Fischer.

Was he perhaps as lonely as she was?

Tired, YN lay in bed. She didn't even have the strength to change her clothes and remove her make up. Although she wanted nothing more than to get out of that itchy, uncomfortable dress and tights. A soft meow sounded beside her and she felt something soft brush against her arm. Smiling, she pulled the cat closer and buried her face in its white fur.

Maybe she should tell him. But wasn't that too much? He was still her boss, after all, and there were probably plenty of women who were interested in him.

She quickly pushed the thought aside and closed her eyes.

Robert Fischer turned curiously when he heard the quick clicking of heels in the corridor. Panting, his assistant opened the door and dropped her bag on the desk.

"Miss YN, are you okay?"

Her hair was messy, her coat hung loosely over her shoulders as if she hadn't had time to put it on properly, and her lipstick was a little smudged.

"I… overslept," she said, panting. "I'm sorry."

Fischer looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "It's okay. But it shouldn't happen again."

"Of course not, sir," she replied immediately.

He quickly disappeared into his office and returned with a thick stack of papers and a folder.

"Would you be so kind as to sort these documents alphabetically for me? They've been on my desk for days. I know it's not an exciting task."

She nodded and took the heavy pile from his hand. Fischer thanked her and hurried back to his office.

"Miss YN?" she heard her boss' voice.

She turned immediately and forced a smile. "Yes, Mr Fischer?"

"I have an job interview scheduled for ten, would you be so kind as to prepare the conference room for it?"

"Of course, sir."

He stopped halfway and looked at Victoria questioningly. "Are you okay? You look so pale." She nodded quickly, forcing a smile. "Everything's fine, Mr Fischer." Fischer looked at her, raised his eyebrows, then handed her the key to the meeting room and disappeared back into his office.

A strange feeling of dizziness spread through her head as she walked down the long corridor leading to the conference rooms.

What was wrong with her today?

When it started to get dark outside, YN finally turned off her computer and grabbed her bag. The strange dizziness had improved during the day, leading her to conclude that she simply needed a break from work. Fortunately, it was Friday. She knocked gently on Fischer's door, as she always did before leaving, to wish him a pleasant evening. He was sitting there as usual, his chin resting on his hand, deep in thought. He glanced up briefly and nodded politely, noticing her in the doorway. He looked stunningly handsome today, even after this long and exhausting day.

Fischer remained silent.

"Have a good weekend, Mr Fischer."

"You too, Miss YN." He gave her a friendly smile.

"No, Miss YN. I'm not interested. I keep my work and personal life strictly separate." She immediately looked down, embarrassed. Thoughts raced through her mind like a rollercoaster and her cheeks felt as if they were on fire. "I'm sorry, Mr Fischer, I shouldn't have asked you that." She finally grabbed her bag and left the office without another word, feeling Fischer's gaze on her back.

It was drizzling lightly as she walked through the busy streets of London. The cold air did her good and she felt her head clear a little.

Miss YN, wait!" she suddenly heard a voice behind her that seemed to be getting closer.

"I wanted to apologize, Miss YN. It wasn't very nice of me to brush you off like that," he said with a gentle laugh. His voice sounded strangely different, softer than usual. Wordless and spellbound, she stared into the pair of light blue eyes before her, apologetic and gentle in their expression. She knew Mr Fischer had blue eyes, but she'd never noticed how incredibly bright they were.

"It's okay, don't worry," she managed to say, her knees shaking with excitement.

"No, no, Miss YN. I'll think about the dinner offer, okay? Just because we work together doesn't mean we can't have dinner together, does it?" Fischer suggested, and she nodded slowly, then smiled.

Why this sudden change of mind?

"Well, see you soon." He waved goodbye and YN, still completely confused, raised her hand in response. But before she could form another thought, he had disappeared into the crowd.

"Miss YN, how nice to see you! What a coincidence!"

It was the first time she had seen him in his casual clothes rather than one of his business suits. But this was no less elegant and stylish. He was wearing a well-fitting black coat, a grey knitted jumper underneath, black trousers and leather shoes. It was so strange to see him outside his office at Fischer Morrow Company. Suddenly he didn't seem so unapproachable and distant anymore.

"What are you doing here?" she asked curiously.

He paused for a moment. He seemed to be considering whether or not to tell her.

"I brought my little girl to her friend's house for a sleepover. She's been asking me for weeks because her mum won't let her."

"So you're a cool dad," YN replied.

Fischer rolled his eyes. "I'm the one who lets her get away with everything. We had to turn back twice because she realised she had forgotten her favourite stuffed animal and her toothbrush."

She laughed softly. In a strange way, she enjoyed him talking so openly about his life.

"Let's find a nice spot for the photo," he said, letting his gaze wander until it settled on a beautiful fountain.

Carefully, she picked up the camera, took a few steps back and held it directly in front of Robert's face. "Smile, please," she instructed him, finally pressing the shutter.

A pedestrian who had just passed them looked at YN with a confused expression and shook his head. Frowning, she looked after him before carefully tucking the camera into her handbag.

Are you hungry?" asked Robert. "We could go to a restaurant."

Surprised, she looked at him. "I don't know…" she said hesitantly, chewing her lower lip. In fact, she had never expected to be asked such a question.

He looked at her with raised eyebrows and she could see the disappointment in his eyes. Finally, she worked up the courage to say what was on her mind.

"It's just… To be honest, you told me yesterday that you were someone who kept your work and personal life strictly separate. Maybe it would be better if we did. After all, I'm your employee."

As much as she wanted to spend time with him, she was afraid of developing any more feelings for him. Robert nodded slowly and shoved his hands into his coat pockets.

"I really like you. I just never wanted to show it, that's why I was so reserved with you and told you I wasn't interested in you".

She closed her eyes and let out a sigh as a ton of thoughts went through her head. Robert finally nodded at her with a slightly disappointed look on his face and turned on his heel.

"Wait!" she called after him.

He stopped immediately and looked at her hopefully.

"Let's give it a try, shall we?"

YN… is that a French name?"

Robert's voice sounded slightly tipsy as he grinned curiously at her, twirling his wine glass casually in his hands. The plate in front of him was empty and he had now carefully placed the cutlery on it, waiting for a waitress to take it away.

She smiled, nodded and took a sip from her glass. "My father is French. I grew up in France but moved to England when I was 15."

He nodded with interest, rubbing his chin with his forefinger.

"And you? I heard you're Australian," she asked curiously.

Robert laughed and ran a hand through his dark hair. "Well, my accent makes it obvious."

YN blushed and looked down at her plate. What a stupid question.

But Robert didn't seem to mind too much, because he started talking about his life in Sydney, how he had finally moved to London after his father's death, and she listened with interest.

But suddenly he stopped and looked at her thoughtfully. "But I'm probably just boring you."

YN immediately shook her head. "No, you're not," she told him. "I find it really interesting to find out all this about you."

YN's date pulled out a black leather purse and rummaged through it. Quickly, YN pulled a few notes out of the bag and handed them to the waitress. "Keep the change," she said.

The waitress looked at her with wide eyes, "Thank you, ma'am," she said gratefully, "have a nice evening.

Then she turned and left the table.

"You didn't have to do that," Robert said. "As a gentleman, it's actually my job to pay."

She shook her head in amusement. "I bet that's never happened to you before, has it?"

Robert shook his head and took the last drink from his glass. There was a moment of silence between them.

"All right. So what's the plan for the rest of the evening?"

She looked at him in surprise. As soon as he said the words, she felt a tingle in her stomach.

"Shh!" she snapped at him, putting her fingers to his lips. "You'll wake up the whole neighbourhood."

"Is this where you live?" Robert asked.

She put her finger to his lips for a second time until Robert stopped talking and looked silently into her eyes. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she finally stood on her toes, put her arms around his neck and placed her lips on his. Robert returned the kiss without hesitation and gently pulled her into his arms. YN could hardly believe what was happening. It was everything she had secretly wanted for months. They remained like this for a moment before she finally let go of him and reached for her key.

Robert's fingers stroked carefully along her hip and fumbled a little with her belt while she was busy planting little kisses on his neck. With slightly trembling hands she pulled his jumper over his head and Robert took her hand.

"Are you nervous?" he wanted to know. She remained silent.

But when she heard soft breathing next to her, she turned quickly and all the events of last night came back to her. Smiling, she looked over at Robert, snuggled up next to her in her beige blanket, sleeping peacefully. Tenderly stroking his messy hair, she lay down beside him again and then began to caress his chest. Perhaps what they had done was wrong. After all, they were two people who should never have fallen in love. But it had happened, and it felt so right. They remained in this position for some time, Robert asleep and YN lost in thought.

"Good morning," she whispered.

"Good morning," Robert murmured in a raspy morning voice.

"Did you sleep well?" she asked.

"Yes, wonderfully." He yawned loudly and took her into his arms as she laid her head lovingly on his shoulder.

"Wait, what time is it?" he suddenly wanted to know.

"Quarter past ten, why do you ask?" she replied.

"Shit," Robert muttered as he let go of the hug, jumped out of the bed and started to pick up his clothes, which were strewn all over the floor.

"Wait, wait, where are you going?" she asked, looking at him in confusion.

"I should've picked up my daughter by now," he replied, hurrying to get dressed.

Sighing, she pulled the blanket around her a little tighter. "Can't it wait? Can't you stay for breakfast?"

"I'm sorry, but I'm sure she's already waiting for me.“ Robert dodged her questions, grabbing his coat on the floor and sighing when he saw her disappointed look.

The air was stuffy and hot. Coughing, she ran to the window and opened it.

"Good morning, Miss YN, I hope you had a nice weekend," a familiar voice sounded from behind her.

Startled, she turned to see Robert's face as he stuck his head through the door, as he always did.

Why didn't he call her by her first name? Confused, she stared at him, trying to form a clear sentence. "But… But… we spent it together…" her voice finally broke. Her head suddenly hurt again.

"Miss YN? I haven't seen you since Friday, when you left my office after… asking me that question."

Her heart almost stopped. Suddenly her knees gave way and she sank to the floor.

"Are you okay? Are you feeling unwell?" Concerned, he bent down to her. "Do you want to go home and rest?"

She nodded slightly and wiped a tear from her eye, which had turned her fingers black from the carefully applied mascara. Then she got up and left the office.

Everything that had happened that weekend had been fake. She had made it all up. And all of this happened because she had forgotten to take the pills she was taking for her delusions. Robert hadn't really followed her on Friday evening; it was all a figment of her imagination. While his real self was still sitting in the office, probably not thinking about her at all. Everything suddenly made sense: why Robert looked a bit different, why his voice sounded different, the waitress who ignored him on Saturday because she couldn’t actually see him, the pedestrian who gave her a confused look because she was talking to herself while taking the photo.

The photo.

She immediately got up, put on her shoes and walked to the photo shop where she had left the film to be developed. Her heart raced as the staff handed her the envelope with the photos. Trembling, she finally grabbed the Saturday night photo, without looking at it herself, and held it up to the staff's face. "What do you see?" she asked.

The young man looked at her in confusion, but remained polite. "The fountain at Piccadilly Circus. Great picture, it turned out really nice."

"Anything else?" she asked.

Crying and with burning eyes, she finally lay down on her bed and buried her head in the pillow as her cat purred softly beside her. She must have stayed like that for hours, as the sun began to set again outside her window. When she finally lifted her head and wiped the tears from her face, she saw a dark-haired man sitting beside her bed, looking at her lovingly with his pale blue eyes. A smile suddenly appeared on her face and she began to laugh, pulling the man into a tight embrace.

some explanations because i know that story is kinda mind-fucking:

• Is Robert Fischer all a creation of the readers mind?

- No he actually exists, he’s her boss and she‘s in love with him, so she imagines dating him.

• When is he real, when is he fake?

- The version Robert Fischer in the office is real, he turns her down when she asks him out, leaving YN heartbroken. The moment she leaves the office, she starts to imagine what it would be like if he apologised to her, so the man who follows her is just her imagination. The real Robert Fischer is still in his office at Fischer-Morrow.

On Monday morning, when she gets back to her office, the real Robert Fischer is there again, who hadn't seen her since he had rejected her on Friday evening.

When she gets home, she throws away her pills and her delusions begin again. The man who sat next to her on the bed and comforted her is again the imaginary version of Robert.

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy ff #robert fischer #Inception #robert fischer fanfiction

52 notes · View notes

starwriterulia · 20 days ago

Text

Perversity and Loathing - Chapter 1

Revision finished November 16, 2024.

CONTAINS HEAVY SUBJECT MATERIAL THAT MAY TRIGGER READERS WITH ANXIETY, DEPRESSION AND PTSD. SOME CHAPTERS CONTAIN 18+ CONTENT.

This is a reboot of Tomb of the Goshenite Stargazer Dragon. (Masterlist)

Fandoms: DC Comics, Batfamily, Thalassic Space (OC)

Characters (In order of appearance): Faith Lawson (self-insert), Barbara Gordon (Batgirl), Dick Grayson (Nightwing), Ra's al Ghul, Bruce Wayne (Batman)

Word Count: 3340

TW: Rape and stabbing (Ra's al Ghul to Faith Lawson), death (Faith Lawson)

A/N: Oh my God, this reboot is so much better! This, this I can work with. Tag list in the replies of people who liked/reblogged any part of the previous version of this story. You're not obliged to read or leave a comment, I just thought I'd let y'all know about the reboot. Thank you for reading! ^w^

Update (November 6th): I realised, like, two days ago that there's no fucking way I would survive this, and I'm only getting around to it today 'cause I've got two days off work. So, uh, half of this chapter is different (and I gave Barbara her earpiece, forgot to in the original version)! And yes, I pasted all of the original onto a Word document so I didn't have to retype all of the lore. But this means I have to restart Chapter 2! This is fine! This is totally fine... :')

November 16th: Aaand finally done. Things came up. Work, recharging, spending time with my friends. :p I'll start work on Chapter 2 either tomorrow or sometime this week or next week, as my schedule is kinda loaded lol.

November 17th: Forgot to add a brief description of myself, oops! Found a good place for it, though. My eye colour is noted by Batgirl instead of being in that paragraph, though.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

My legs were heavy as I ran up the gravel hill in the cold of morning fog to the off-white house on Carmen Hill Road my family lived at for a year. I turned to the right, passed the backside of the house, and took a sharp right, opening the white door with a window to enter the boot room, then an identical door to enter the kitchen. It had a white fridge, green counters, an island light-oak cupboards and cabinets, and checkered laminate flooring. Left of the front door was the table my parents made in 2008 that they broke while moving from the house on sixth street to the homestead on Highway 27, positioned between the island and the wall hosting the front door. A bay window alcove occupied the wall left of the table and island, looking out onto the deck my parents had built with help from my mom's family. A wall with a door to the improperly built basement, the reason my parents were glad this house was only a rental, and a brief space with a door to the deck separated the kitchen and living room, which had off-white carpet and a large window on each wall. The wall opened to the immediate right of the door I came in from, and there was a laundry room with large, unpainted wooden stairs that had no railing. Following this was a bathroom, then the master bedroom.

I was alone, and it was silent. If I go up the stairs, I'll be pulled under and taken to the second floor of the House Filled With Darkness and be woken by either my dad's face on a moose head, or a Five Nights at Freddy's animatronic. But I want to go in my room and dance! I've got plenty of room to dance, at this house. Ugh, but I'm so hungry!

I walk towards the fridge and open it. I feel myself wake up, leaving the dream, and see the early morning sun. I grumble and close my eyes, assuming I've destroyed the illusion, a brief throbbing in my brows.

Barbara shared the migraine. It pulled her from sleep with a groan, her eyes parting briefly to look at Dick. He pried open his right eye and whispered, "Are you OK, Babs?"

"Yeah, but something's off." She answered. Dick caressed Barbara's right arm, as it wasn't against the bed, opening his eyes fully.

There's lamb, poultry of some kind, a carton of eggs, a carton of milk, other condiments and dairy products, and the crispers are filled with a cabbage, an onion, a few heads of garlic, two turnips, a bag of carrots, a produce bag with several tomatoes, an eggplant, and is that a bundle of okra?

"Who's fridge is this? We never had eggplant or okra."

"I believe that's my fridge, dear." I turned and saw Ra's al Ghul. Naked, like I suddenly was aware of being. I gasped, seeing his cock, and snapped my head away, shutting the fridge.

"She's in trouble. Ra's is there. They're both nude."

"Oh shit. Do you know her?"

"No."

'Did she intentionally choose Barbara, knowing Batgirl's identity?'

"Are you usually nude in your dreams?" I heard him lick his lips, and hum lustfully.

"Sometimes. I sleep nude, though." I pinched my left wrist. I looked over my right shoulder at his face. "How did you do that?"

"We're both actually here, aren't we?" I nodded, furrowing my brows and frowning. "I don't know how I did that. I fell asleep with thoughts of a girl like you: short, a cute face, bright eyes, nice hair, though I wonder what your natural colour is," My dyed black hair was grown out by three inches. "And a delicious body." His brows raised as he eyed my breasts, stomach and thighs.

"Fuck, he's gonna rape her." Barbara said. Dick sighed heavily.

"How much do you weigh?"

"165 pounds." Ra's hummed. "You should leave so the dream can end. You shouldn't interrupt things like this, it's dangerous for both of us." Ra's chuckled and shook his head.

Barbara rapidly said, "She told him to back off so the dream can end. It's dangerous for both of them. But he just laughed and shook his head."

"You're a virgin, aren't you?" I couldn't stop my lip from trembling.

"Babs, can you use your link with her to separate her from Ra's and have everyone wake up? I don't want either of you to get hurt."

"Come on, dear. Don't be scared."

Barbara shook her head in the pillow. "I dunno how to safely do that, like Zatanna would. She needs me, Dick. I can't leave her."

"Please leave, Ra's."

"She knows who he is, too."

"He is infamous." Dick tilted his head.

"Go back to Earth Prime."

"She's not from Earth Prime?" Barbara said.

"Oh. She's from Earth-33." Dick said.

"No." Ra's licked his teeth, baring them as he closed the two steps between us. I briskly walked towards the window, left of the fridge and looking out to the deck.

"C'mon, run!"

"He'll be too fast for her, Babs."

"What's the matter?" Ra's calmly opened the drawer closest to the fridge and found a butchering knife. He walked towards me.

"He's got a knife!"

"Shit."

"I-I can't!" I gripped the window alcove, kneeling.

"Can't what, dear?"

In a tone of realisation, Barbara said, "She can't run."

"She can hear you, a little!"

"I think so."

"Just please leave!"

"I already told you: no." Ra's lunged down and stabbed my right ribcage. I screamed, releasing the wall, my legs unfurling and my bottom hiting the floor, tears collecting in my eyes. I crossed my arms over my chest and tucked my head into my arms. Ra's grabbed my left arm, then my right, forcing each to the side. I uselessly scratched the floor and pressed my head against the flooring.

Barbara screamed, grazing her fingernails against the sheets and pressing her head into the pillow. "Babs!" Cried Dick.

Ra's pushed the knife deeper into my flesh.

Barbara's torso curled up. Dick gently took hold of her shoulders.

His left hand crossed over his right arm to hold my left shoulder and used his body weight to lower my upper body to the floor. I made a stuttered wail and thrashed my legs.

Barbara kicked the air. Dick removed himself to avoid her motions.

Ra's lowered his pelvis and pushed his whole penis into my vagina, and I screamed, "No! Fuck you!"

Barbara howled and writhed. "Ow, fuck!"

"Babs!"

Ra's withdrew the knife and stabbed my left ribcage deeply, thrusting his hips. I shouted, "With this knife, I sever the Phantom!"

Barbara opened her eyes. Panting, she sat up and looked at Dick.

"And with my blood, I craft the Clicker!"

"I can still hear her."

"I place it into the Bonded's hand!"

"What's she saying?" Dick asked. Barbara felt the fingers of her right hand forcibly move to hold an item.

"And with the Clicker, from here to the Bonded's roof Ra's al Ghul and I shall go!"

Barbara opened her hand and saw a white rotary lamp switch. "She was improvising a spell. She gave me this Clicker that she just made. It should move her to our roof." She flicked the switch.

Our minds parted. Ra's and I moved to a roof. The early morning sun shone in Gotham, too.

"And now our minds aren't connected!" Barbara said, leaving the switch as she scrambled out of bed and put on her costume.

Ra's pulled out the knife and made a long, shallow cut from the left side of my ass to the lower end of my thigh. I wailed and fisted my hands.

Dick followed Barbara's lead, putting on his earpiece and tapping and holding it for a second, hearing a beep, then tapping it three times. "Recording audio". Said the automated voice.

"She's still with Ra's?"

"Yep! Must've been the only way for both of them to leave!" Barbara pocketed the Clicker, then put on her cowl and earpiece. Nightwing put on his mask. They went to the window, and Batgirl opened it.

Ra's made an identical cut down my right ass and thigh. "You look so beautiful."

"Fuck you." I sobbed.

Nightwing said, "I'll fight him. You dress her wounds so she can make it to the hospital!" Nightwing and Batgirl grappeled onto the roof. The young woman and Ra's were nude, of course. The woman had faded dyed red hair, which had been burgundy, and had a bit of black ombre at the ends. She was 4'6" (145cm), and about 165lbs (74kg).

Near the edge of the far side of the roof, I whimpered a Ra's drew a deep, long cut down the outer sides of my left ass and thigh.

Batgirl threw a batarang, knocking the knife from Ra's' hand, and the knife fell to the street below as Nightwing ran to Ra's and the young woman.

Nightwing wrapped his arms around Ra's from the back and tore him away from me.

Ra's gracefully landed on his feet and began to fight Nightwing.

Sobbing, Batgirl knelt beside me.

Batgirl noted the woman's hazel green eyes. 'Wow, beautiful.'

"I'm so sorry!" She used her left hand to put pressure on the wound of the woman's left side, and hastily cleaned and dressed it with items from her belt.

"It's OK, it's only his fault!"

"You really can't run?"

"No! My dwarfism comes with hypotonia." I bent my right arm in front of my face to show Barbara that my forearm was short.

"Ohhh."

"I haven't been able to move since I broke my left patella in high school."

"Shit, I'm sorry!" Batgirl tended to my right side.

"This is a waste of my time. I already got what I wanted." Ra's said. He kicked Nightwing away, then used magic to fly to the next rooftop.

"DAMMIT!" Nightwing yelled. 'He's stronger. He couldn't do that before.'

Moving behind my head and placing it on her lap, Batgirl said, "Dick, just let him go!"

"Fine. I think he took magic from her, though." Nightwing came towards us and knelt to Batgirl's right.

"He took my dark magic. Thirteen percent of what I'm guaranteed to have, after a summoning. Without it, I've only got two percent solar magic. I can give you get my most basic treasure, but that's it."

"What's your name?" Batgirl asked.

"Faith Lawson. Sorry for making you feel all that."

"Don't worry about it."

"You were just the first person I thought of, when I realised Ra's activated my powers. Your status as Bonded was temporary. You're free, now."

"Aw, well, I'm honoured you thought of me, first. Let's get you to a hospital, OK?"

"No. I won't make it. You know that." Batgirl sighed and nodded, frowning. "Dick, knock on the door to the roof five times, and after you hear two knocks, you can open it."

"Uh, OK." Nightwing hurried to the door and did as asked. The door knocked twice from the inside. Nightwing turned the doorknob and pulled it open a couple of inches, and batted his lashes.

"Just enough for an arm to go through." I said. Nightwing opened the door about five inches. A white hand wearing a black long sleeved jacket protruded horizontally, holding a white and vivid blue gradient scallop seashell necklace on a silver cable chain. Nightwing stared.

Batgirl shouted, "Dick!"

"Sorry!" Nightwing grabbed the item. The arm swiftly retreated. The door slam shut.

"Knock again to end the ritual." I said.

"Five more times?" Nightwing asked.

"Yes." Nightwing did this. The door knocked twice. Nightwing quickly returned to me and Batgirl, handing Batgirl the necklace. She lifted my head and helped me wear it. I controlled a cough and tasted blood. "Shit. One percent left. One minute left, if that."

"Is there anything else we can do?" Asked Batgirl.

"I need to use the stream in the Batcave."

Nightwing interacted with his glove. "I'll put you on the call, too, Babs."

"Thanks."

"Batman, this is Nightwing and Batgirl."

Bruce Wayne sat in the kitchen, a cup of coffee on the island and his phone in hand, eyes on the pantry door. "What's happening?"

I said, "I can come back once while wearing this."

"Can you fly to the roof of our apartment? We have someone who needs to use the underground stream in the Batcave."

"I'm sure people have already died from curiosity, but I..." My eyes felt heavy. "I don't have time to tell you how to stop Ra's." Bruce hummed in thought.

Batgirl carressed my hair. "It's OK, Faith. You can tell us when you're back."

"Is she why my pantry leads to a familiar ominous stone hallway?"

Nightwing said, "It wasn't her, directly, though she knows the ritual to open and close that." I shut my eyes.

"No." Batgirl softly said.

"She's gone?"

"She's gone."

"Anyway, that allowed for someone or something to give us the seashell necklace Faith is now wearing."

Batgirl said, "Bruce, knock on your pantry door five times, and if you hear two knocks, it should have worked."

"OK." Bruce rose, went to the pantry door, and knocked. He heard it knock back. He opened the door. "Huh." He closed the pantry and meandered back to the island, sipping his coffee.

"Did it work?"

"Yes." 'That's not how it worked, in the novel. Faith took some creative liberties.'

Nightwing asked, "Bruce, can you help us stop Ra's? He took thirteen percent of Faith's power, and it's all dark magic. She used the last two percent to help us."

Batgirl said, "Literally her last two minutes alive, reduced to less than one minute after she told us about the ritual and made sure she got her necklace."

"If, no, when we get Faith back, she can help us, too."

"Of course." Bruce picked up his mug. "I'll be there soon. And I'll give Zatanna a call, after Faith is back, assuming the League doesn't call me first." He emptied it into the sink, put his mug upside down, and ran into the Great Hall towards the study.

"Thank you." Nightwing replied.

"Bruce, you said there was a familiar ominous stone hallway?" Batgirl said.

"Mhm. I entered it, of course. Pitch darkness. Not even the light from the rooms could pierce it. It had one turn, to the right; a dead end. I turned back, and a path had opened to my right." Batman descended the stairs to the Batcave.

"The Navidson Hallway." Said Nightwing and Batgirl.

Nightwing said, "No wonder Faith said some people have probably already died."

"Devoured by the labryinth." Said Batgirl.

"I guess you can just make it somewhat friendly with the ritual."

"Maybe. Did anything else happen while you were in there, Bruce?"

"I decided not to venture further, but I did hear a faint jingling of bells in the distance."

"Creepy."

"I swiftly exited the hall and shut the door. And now, thanks to you, it's gone." Bruce reached the foot of the stairs, put his phone on the desk of the computer and entered the changing station. "Do you know Faith's last name?"

"Lawson. We only know she's from Earth-33 because she knew our names."

"You don't know her nationality?" Batman exited the capsule and went to the Batplane.

"Canadian, I think." Batgirl said, gently putting Faith's head down and standing, drawing Nightwing's attention.

"Either that, or she's from Washington. And where are you going?"

"I'm going to get her a towel for now, and a change of clothes for when she comes back."

"Good idea." Nightwing replied, and turned his head to look at the city.

"I appreciate what you're doing, Dick, but maybe keep an eye on her, in case, I dunno, something tries to grab her."

"Ooh, yeah." Nightwing looked at Faith's feet. He noted that they were wide, and that her right foot was deformed. 'How did its arch get so high, like that?' Batgirl ran to the edge of the roof, and grappled down the fire escape, entering the window of the apartment.

"What did Ra's do to her?" Batman asked, raising the plane. It was already pointed towards the exit, so he accelerated.

"Stabbed both ribcages, made a cut from underneath her buttocks to her lower thighs, and raped her. I tried to fight him, but he said it was a waste of his time and that he'd already got what he wanted. He was stronger from the magic he stole from Faith. He flew to the next rooftop with magic. Never seen him do that before." Batman hummed.

"They met in a dream." Said Batgirl, grabbing a dark grey shirt, black sweatpants and black socks from her dresser and wrapping them in the grey towel she had collected. "I was there from when Faith opened the fridge in her childhood home, and there was eggplant and okra, which her thoughts said her family had never used, and she asked whose fridge it was. Ra's was behind her and said that it was his fridge, and started being a perv." Batgirl exited the window, and returned to the roof. "Apparently, he fell asleep looking for someone just like her." Batgirl knelt and wrapped Faith's torso in the towel. "That's better."

"Faith couldn't run, and of course couldn't convince him to leave. She has hypotonia and hurt her left patella in high school. All she could do was back up to the window alcove and crouch while Ra's immediately found the drawer with the knives. And then he hurt her, and I felt it 'cause she temporarily Bonded me to her. I was the first person she thought of. She improvised a spell poem to stop the phantom pains I was experiencing and to give me a Clicker, a rotating lamp switch. That's what I used to bring them from the dream world to our world."

"Ah."

"She said that Ra's activated her powers in the dream."

"Uh-huh. I bet she would know exactly how to help us deal with Ra's."

"You mean, how to get her magic back."

"Yes."

"She probably does." Nightwing bent his knees and picked up Faith. He and Batgirl watched the skies for the Batplane in silence for ten seconds.

"I'm minus thirty seconds from your location." Batman said. "Are you two doing OK? You've been quiet."

Nightwing answered, "Yeah, just..."

"Sorry for her." Batgirl finished.

"Yeah."

"You did all that you could. I'm sure she was thankful for you two. I'm guessing you'd like to look after her, when she's back."

"Yeah." Nightwing said, then Batgirl parroted.

"She'll be in good hands, then." Batman said. Nightwing and Batgirl watched the Batplane approach the roof, and hover above at the edge. The loading door at the back lowered. Nightwing jumped in, then Batgirl. The door closed, and as the plane rose back into the sky and accelerated, Nightwing and Batgirl walked towards the cockpit, and Batman stood from the pilot's seat. They met two steps away from the cockpit. He sighed. "She's young."

With a note of sorrow, Batgirl added, "She's beautiful." Batman nodded. Nightwing did, afterwards.

"We don't know how old she is, exactly." Said Nightwing.

"Mid-twenties. Batgirl, would you mind stitching her wounds?"

"Sure." Batgirl replied. Nightwing handed Faith to Batgirl, who went to a table. Batman sat back in the pilot's seat.

"Has the League called you yet?" Nightwing asked, crossing his arms over the back of the passenger's seat.

"No. Not yet. Zatanna was called, though."

"She might be in trouble."

"I told her what to expect. She should be OK. She's a rational person."

"Has anyone seen Ra's?"

"No. He may have gone into hiding."

"Maybe the Hallway got him."

"If it did, I hope he's realised his mistake and finds a way to give Faith her magic back."

"That would be nice." Silence for a few seconds.

"Sit down." Nightwing did as requested. "She'll be OK."

"I hope so."

Proceed to Chapter 2

#perversity and loathing #starwriterulia writes #dc comics fanfiction #batfamily fanfiction #dick grayson #nightwing #barbara gordon #batgirl #bruce wayne #batman

11 notes · View notes