#and perhaps everything else down there too

[mallowsweetmiri]

Potter!Reader x Remus

Summary: after weeks of having a painful crush on your brothers best friend, you make a plan to seduce him.

Warnings: smutty and slutty

Word count: 6k

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You groaned into your pillow, wiping the sweat from your forehead into the cotton fabric. This was the second time this week you'd woken up sweating from a dream about Remus Lupin, and it troubled you deeply that the scenarios you imagined would never happen. For one, your brother would instantly shut you down if you even suggested going out with any boy, let alone his best mate. The more unfortunate part was that you were almost certain Remus saw you as nothing more than James' little sister, a title you were tired of carrying. You huffed again as you rose to start getting ready. How much longer could this crush go on? It had started on the train in September. You remember thinking to yourself that Remus had become quite good looking over the summer and left it at that. But soon, he started to catch your eyes in the hallways, then in the common room, until finally he had managed his way into your head. You were constantly thinking about him. Thinking about the glimpses of his chest you'd caught one time when his shirt was unbuttoned, thinking about the way his adam's apple moved in his throat, thinking about his hands...

You shook your head and stepped into the shower. If only you could know what he felt like, then maybe this incessant urge to be with him would go away. You felt the water fall down your back as you washed yourself up. You were a pretty girl, you knew this. If you were someone else, had a different last name, maybe you'd have a chance. Although, you'd never really tried before. You kept these thoughts to yourself, having nobody to talk to them about. Normally you would tell James everything, and he would usually play parent when it came to your school girl crushes. But you couldn't exactly go up to James and say, "Hey, do you think you could set me up with Remus? Y'know, your best mate? I really want to see what he looks like with his clothes off." No, you couldn't do that. But perhaps you wouldn't have to...

You stepped out of the shower feeling confident in your plan. You had spent all this time pining in silence over Remus, it was time for action. While you got ready, you made subtle changes. You hiked your skirt up just a little and slipped into the button down that was just a touch too small. When you did your makeup, you were sure to make your lips look extra lush and rosy. You put on your favorite perfume, the one you saved for special occasions. This seemed as good a day as any.

"There she is," James smiled and stood as you came down the stairs to the common room.

"Good morning, Jamie," you chimed, "were you waiting on me?" James laughed as he grabbed his bag off the floor, the two of you heading through to the portrait hole.

"I'm always waiting for you," James nudged you with his shoulder. "You look nice today." You raised your brow at him, his statement more of a question as if to ask "Is there a reason you're making an effort?"

"Thanks," was all you replied as you made your way to breakfast.

PHASE 1: Hook

When you got there, the other marauders were already sat down. Sirius was talking animatedly with Peter as Remus sat quietly reviewing notes.

"We've finally arrived," James said to no one in particular, taking a seat and immediately filling his plate. Remus look up from his book and mumbled something before delving back into his work. You sat next to James and made a bowl of porridge, listening to Sirius boast about the Quidditch match tomorrow.

"Ravenclaw is going to destroy Slytherin," he bellowed, thumping his fist on the table. "And then I am going to destroy a bottle of Firewhiskey in their common room." He smirked, earning and high five from James.

"That's the spirit, Pads," James cheered, taking a drink from his cup. You rolled your eyes and stirred your oats.

"I don't know how the two of you haven't died from overconsumption yet," you quipped, spooning sugar into your bowl.

"Genuinely," Remus added, looking up from his book, "you two are menaces." You hummed in agreement, bringing the spoon to your mouth to lick the extra sugar off. You caught Remus watching from your peripherals and made a show of it, bringing your glossed lips together at the tip of the spoon. When you glanced up thoughtfully through your lashes, he was still watching. It made you chuckle as his eyes quickly averted back to his book. Baited.

"Are you coming tomorrow, Y/N?" Peter asked, shoving toast into his mouth. You swallowed your porridge and swore that Remus' ears seemed to shift at the question.

"Y/N never comes to quidditch parties," James pouted, turning to look at you. You rolled your eyes.

"Correction, I never come to your quidditch parties," you teased, poking a finger into his shoulder. "I'll probably go tomorrow to see Pandora. If Ravenclaw wins," you reminded them. Sirius grumbled something but you couldn't tell what he was saying through his mouthful of sausage. James' face lit up with excitement.

"Ooh! Sibling bonding time," he gushed cheesily, squeezing your cheeks. Oh, for fucks sake. Could he stop? You were doing everything in your power not to be seen as his bloody little sister and he was ruining all your efforts.

"Okay, that's enough. I'm going to class," you grumbled, trying to hide your annoyance in front of Remus. The boys chuckled as you gathered your things and got up from your seat. If James was going to be a tosser, you'd have to up your game.

"Oops," you said innocently as you dropped your book on the ground, loud enough to make a clatter. You bent over to pick it up, praying that James was currently not watching.

"Merlin, Y/N. Pull your bloody skirt down," James scolded, making a foul face. You rolled your eyes at him again and stuck your tongue out as you continued to exit the hall. Well, if Remus hadn't been looking before, he surely was now.

PHASE 2: Line

You were more than excited for the Quidditch game, especially after spending yesterday evening stuck in the dungeons fixing your laughing potion. You were also excited because you had another chance to see Remus. You had only seen him briefly yesterday, and he was always buried in his work. Hopefully you'd be able to gain his attention today at the game.

With this intention, you slipped on a white babydoll top and watched yourself in the mirror as you buttoned it up. You looked good. You left the top button purposely unlatched, knowing it could catch someone’s attention. After slipping on your favorite pair of jeans, you felt confident- sexy, even. Just the idea of Remus thinking you were sexy made you bite your lip.

You didn't wait for your roommates to finish getting ready. You did a last check of your things, grabbed your coat, and started down to the common room. As per usual, the marauders were sitting around the couches, talking loudly and taking up space. This time, Remus was clearly in on whatever bet was being placed over the quidditch game. His crooked smile made you curse under your breath and fix your hair. You decided to play it safe and sit by Marlene in an attempt to hide your fluster.

“Hi Marls,” you chimed, plopping down next to her.

“Princess Potter! You look absolutely dashing today,” she gloated, giving you a quick hug into her shoulder. You blushed from her compliment and peered upwards from the hug. Remus was smiling at something Peter had said, but was looking at you. You sent him a small wave from under Marlene’s arm to which he nodded up in response before turning his attention back to the boys. Why was that so hot?

Within twenty minutes, the group of Gryffindors was ready to leave, so the lot of you began the journey down to the pitch. It was nice out today, one of those afternoons where the sun seemed to warm the grounds and the breeze. This meant that the entire school would be at the game. You weren’t usually a fan of crowded spaces, but you silently thanked the gods for putting you behind Remus as you filed into the stands. It was so packed, you could smell the cologne lingering off his clothes as you sat down on the bench. You bit your lip, trying to hide your smile of satisfaction. It felt like the universe was helping your scheme.

“Y/N!” James called over the crowd, leaning forward to see you. You raised your brows and leaned forward to see him, giving him a forced smile.

“Yes, brother dearest?” You called back in a sickly sweet voice. At least now you had an excuse to lean over Remus, who was currently leaning back as far as he could to get out of the way. Perfect position to climb onto his lap, your brain thought intrusively.

“Your boyfriend’s up on the pitch,” he wiggled his eyebrows teasingly, pointing to Theodore Pompous, a 7th year Ravenclaw. You leaned over Remus and Peter to smack your brother.

“Bugger off,” you grumbled. “I admit to having a crush one time in third year, and you still haven’t shut up about it!” You felt your cheeks blush as James and Sirius continued to tease you in the most immature manner. All you could do was roll your eyes and take it, those prats.

“Still have a crush on that posh boy?” Remus leaned in with a teasing smile. You internally groaned at him for joining in on the joke, but you wouldn’t pass up the chance to tease him back.

“Why, are you jealous?” You challenged with a devious head tilt. Remus scoffed and trained his eyes back on Theodore.

“Nah,” Remus replied coolly. “Besides, James would never let you go out with that git.”

“Oh, yea?” You asked, leaning in slightly. “And who would my brother let me go out with?” He turned to face you, his eyes meeting your provocative stare. His eyes flashed with something before Marlene tugged on your arm.

“Can you tell the boys to scoot down? Lily just got here.”

You stifled the urge to roll your eyes as you and Remus called out for the boys to move further down the bench. There wasn’t much room to spare, and you ended up wedged between Marlene and Remus. You were painfully aware of his leg against your own, though Marlene's thigh didn't seem to cross your mind. Remus leaned away from you, his hand behind Peter on the bench to support his weight. It was only a minute of this compromising position before they announced the start of the game. Then, everyone leapt to their feet, eager to watch.

It was a riveting match, and Slytherin almost took the win. Luckily, Theodore managed to catch the snitch at the perfect score ratio, ending the game and sealing the win for Ravenclaw. As the excitement and cheers began to die down, everyone started slowly filing out of the stands. You shuffled behind Marlene, the noise of chatter and brushing of shoulders making you feel slightly overwhelmed. The party was going to be packed tonight. You were almost to the stairs when your foot got caught on a raised step, tripping you into the walkway. You gasped as your heart lurched forward. You prepared for impact against the steps, but it never came. Suddenly, you felt that Remus’ hands had wrapped around your waist. Your cheeks flushed red as you twisted around to face him, his right hand still lingering on your body.

“Thanks,” you muttered sheepishly, your body still shaken from the almost fall. He hesitated for a moment with his hand on you, and was about to say something before James appeared next to him. Remus dropped his hand and shoved it in his pocket. You turned back around and kept following Marlene, carefully watching where you stepped.

“Y/N, fix your shirt!” James called from behind. You clenched your jaw as you kept trudging on, shuffling along with the rest of the Gryffindors. Marlene fell beside you and scoffed.

“He is such a prat about you,” Marlene complained, throwing a dirty look back at James.

“Tell me about it. I almost eat shit and all he cares about is my shirt buttons,” you grumbled, begrudgingly buttoning your top. Marlene cackled and threw her arm around you.

“Please tell me you’re coming to the party tonight,” Marlene pleaded, shaking you slightly.

“Oh, I’m coming to the party tonight,” you grinned delightfully, nudging her in response. “And James is going to freak out when he sees what I’m wearing.”

PHASE 3: and Sinker

"Okay, actually what the fuck are you wearing, Y/N. This is my last straw," James warned, pushing himself up from the arm chair. His outburst made the other three boys heads snap up. You couldn't help but smirk as you felt Remus’ eyes on your body.

"What? This is what people wear at Ravenclaw parties these days," you shrugged, waving past them towards the exit. "Not that you lot would know. You don't get invited." Sirius barked out a laugh, while James sputtered in disbelief behind you.

"She's right!" Mary called from the stairs, bouncing into the common room with the rest of the Gryffindor girls, all looking flawless. You couldn't blame James for his reaction- If anything, you should be thanking him. He's doing a great job of getting everyone to stare.

"While I respect your opinion James, I think I look great. And I can wear whatever the hell I want," you snapped, spinning around to face him with a stubborn glare. The girls cheered, shouting some excited "Hell yeahs!" as James gave up with a resigned eye roll. He knew better than to cross you on something you wanted, and you clearly wanted something. He just didn't need to know exactly what it was. The girls followed you excitedly as you started out the portrait hole. This was going to be a fun night.

As predicted, the Ravenclaw common room was packed. By the time you arrived, the moonlight was already pouring through the glass ceiling dome, casting everything in a dreamy glow. It wasn't hard for Pandora to spot you, pulling you onto the dance floor with an airy giggle. The music was pulsing through your veins as you finished your first drink, then your second. Pandora pulled you into her body, the two of you laughing as you swayed and twirled. For a moment, your eyes focused on the group of Gryffindors hanging out in the lounge area, laughing at something Sirius had said. Remus sat back in a chair, his casual demeanor seeming out of place in a room like this.

Remus.

Your swaying slowed as you trained your eyes on him sitting nonchalantly. He was watching you, his jaw tightening as his eyes dropped to where Pandoras hands rested on your hips. It was too bad that Pandora twirled you around and you lost your train of thought.

"Panda, let's go smoke. I'm getting dizzy," you called over the music, Pandora nodding in response. The two of you resigned to a quiet corner, where you pulled out a tin of cigarettes and lit one with a flick of your wand. You inhaled deeply, enjoying the relief of cool air away from the crowd. You leaned your back up against the wall as Pandora took the fag from your hands.

“Lingering eyes are on you,” Pandora sang, her spacey eyes falling behind you as she took a drag. You turned your head to see where she was looking and was met with Remus' stare.

“Perfect. Those are just the eyes I want lingering,” you replied, bringing your drink to your lips as you watched him. You half expected him to look away, but his eyes were burning through you. You watched as he scanned up your body, his eyes meeting yours before he downed the rest of his drink. He then quickly averted to James who was trying to get Remus' attention.

"I need another drink,” you mumbled as you pushed yourself off the wall, Pandora's giggles echoing behind you. You crossed the room over to where the drinks were. You couldn’t tell if the room was charmed to be slightly purple or if it was the night sky above you. Either way, the ambiance certainly added to your intoxication as you neared the edge of the room. You almost didn’t realize someone slipping up behind you.

"Are you teasing me, Y/N?" Remus asked, cornering you by the drinks table as you spun around. He moved quickly, and you peered behind him to check for any lingering marauders.

"I'm always teasing you idiots," you sassed, turning to grab a bottle off the table. Remus seemed to step even closer to you. If one of the boys saw you like this, they'd certainly take notice. He was being bold. Luckily, you were hidden by an abnormally large globe and the mist that seemed to float about the room.

"I see you everyday," Remus challenged, huffing out a laugh, "and I've never noticed you looking at me with those eyes, Y/N." You hummed as you filled two shot glasses.

“What eyes?” You asked innocently, looking up at him through your lashes as you held out a shot for him. He scoffed out another laugh and took the shot from you.

“Cheers, love,” he winked, clanking his glass with yours before downing the shot. You followed suit, happy to consume some liquid courage. He leaned in closer to you and lowered his voice, “You know, you should really be careful wearing something like that.”

“Why’s that?” You swallowed, the burn from the shot making your cheeks hot.

“You might catch someone’s attention who you don’t want,” Remus said darkly, making you bite your lip. You’d never seen him like this before.

“And what if I catch the attention of someone I do want?” You asked coyly, looking up at him again through a tantalizing gaze. Remus scoffed again for the third time, as if he couldn’t believe your audacity.

“And who is it that you want, Y/N? Hmm?” He asked, more of a challenge. At this point, you were certain that he wanted you. That, or you were about to be in serious trouble. Either way, the risk seemed worth the reward.

“You.”

Something broke in Remus as he stepped forward again, impossibly closer as his hands met your hips.

"You mean to tell me you wore this dress, just to get my attention?" He laughed, his voice low and teasing. You bit your lip and blushed, trying to hide your blatant satisfaction. Remus was smarter than he looked.

"Mmhm," you nodded, your poorly hidden smile spreading to his face.

"Fuck, Y/N," he broke and turned to scan the room, his hands still grasping your hips. You stared up at him, watching his jaw tense as he tried to locate the marauders. His hands were burning through your dress as you stood completely still. You felt relieved when he muttered, "Follow Me," and ushered you towards the exit. You weren't sure where your brother was, but you trusted Remus to get you into the hallway. Once you had exited the doors, he wasted no time as he pressed you into the wall, the force causing you to gasp. He held you in place as he pressed his forehead into yours.

"Can I kiss you?" he whispered and you almost scoffed. You tugged him by the collar and collided his mouth with yours, groaning when he deepened the kiss immediately. His hands were greedy, grabbing at your body as he pushed himself against you. This was even better than your dreams. All sense left your body as he continued kissing down your neck. He pressed his knee roughly in between your legs. A moan left you lips as he bit down, nipping and sucking at your skin.

"Fuck, Remus," you panted, your hips rolling up towards his body. He grunted and pushed you back against the wall. Who knew Remus Lupin would be so intense?

"Can I take you back?" he breathed heavily, as if he was barely holding onto his control.

"Do you even have to ask?" you teased, his body flush against your own. He huffed out a laugh as he kissed your neck again.

"You know I have to ask, Y/N," Remus muttered darkly, as though the act of asking in itself was a violation. And maybe it was, but you couldn't care less about the line he was crossing.

"Does this answer your question?" You whispered, pulling his hand down to touch you. He cursed under his breath as he felt you, his hand seeming to move on its own as he ran his fingers up your soaking panties. It took him a minute to regain focus.

"Okay, let's go," he commanded, guiding you down the hallway with haste. You giggled as he held your waist, moving you quickly towards the Gryffindor tower. You couldn't believe this was actually happening. It surprised and satisfied you that your plan had worked, that you'd managed to tip Remus over so far that he was bringing you back to his dorm.

"You're moving so fast," you fussed as he dragged you up the stairs. His legs were significantly longer than yours.

"M' sorry," he muttered, his eyes focused ahead. "I don't want to waste any time." His urgency was contagious, and you felt yourself pick up the pace. He released you as you stepped through the portrait hole, his grip loosening with surprising restraint. He was careful, and as much as it didn't concern you in the moment, you were glad at least one of you was being responsible. There weren't many people in the common room, everyone either asleep or at the party. Remus' hand found your back once again as he silently steered you towards the boys dorms. You went up the staircase until you reached their door, looking back at Remus for permission before opening it. The windows let in slivers of moonlight and a cooling breeze. Remus shut the door behind you and turned you around. Somehow his faced seemed more real as he stood there, his eyes searching your face.

"Remus," you breathed, feeling the weight of his gaze. He huffed out a breath through his nose, stepping close to you.

"Just tell me Y/N," he said, his hands finding your neck, "Just tell me if you want me to stop."

"I want you," you whined, standing on your tip toes and pulling him down by the neck. He gratefully returned the motion, groaning as his mouth found yours. Remus was everything you'd expected and more. He knew what he was doing, and his blatant want for you made your legs buckle under his touch. He walked you backwards, lifting you by the thighs and lowering you carefully onto his bed. His hand smoothed its way over your leg, pushing up the hem of your dress. His thumb swiped against your front, causing your back to lift slightly under his touch. He hummed into your mouth as he ground his hips down into yours. You could feel him through his pants, and you groaned at his size. Fucking hell. You ran your finger nails down the back of his shirt. Remus pulled his wand out of his pocket and closed his curtains, sitting up on his knees and unbuttoning his shirt. You watched, mesmerized by the show in front of you. The scars that ran down his chest, lower to his abdomen, and lower...

"My eyes are up here, darling," Remus teased, smirking down at you as he tugged off his shirt. You swallowed, looking up at his eyes which were no less intimidating than his body. He scoffed out a laugh as he climbed over you, running his fingertips down your body.

"If your intention was to get my attention all night, you did a good job," he breathed, pressing his finger into your clit. "Such a good job."

He stifled your moan with his mouth, his kiss wet and needy. His fingers moved carefully over your panties, provoking a response from your body that you'd never experienced before. You were trying your best to keep up with his kiss, but the overwhelming sensation of Remus had you melting into the bed.

"Oh, fuck," you moaned, throwing your head back into the pillow as his fingers moved underneath the fabric. He hummed as he began to kiss roughly down your neck. His fingers swiped over your slickness, teasing your entrance. You grasped onto him tighter, your nails digging into his shoulder as he plunged a finger inside you. He pushed himself up to watch you as he pumped another finger into you, you hips moving rhythmically with his hands. By this point, you looked a complete mess with your dress bunched around your middle and your mouth in a permanent gasp. You groaned as you felt yourself beginning to pulse on the brink of an orgasm.

"Fuck, Y/N. Are you going to cum?" Remus mocked you, he fingers stealdiy curly up inside of you.

"Y-yea. M' gonna cum," You whimpered, screwing your eyes shut. Remus muttered a curse under his breath before ducking his head and finding his way in between your thighs. Without warning, he buried himself in you, lapping at your clit while pinning you down by the waist. You grasped at his hair, attempting to pull him off of you but it was no use. He was humming into you as you moved in circle around his face, teetering on the verge of your orgasm. He let out a particularly throaty grunt that sent you over the edge. You let out a muffled cry as you spilled your juices onto his tongue repeatedly. He finished you up, humming as he began to kiss up your body until he hovered over you again. You pulled him down into a rough kiss, your hips snapping up to feel his hard on. "You're so perfect, Y/N," Remus praised, pulling your dress down over your bum. Your tits were now fully exposed, Remus' hands and eyes exploring over your body like he was trying to memorize you. "So perfect... I want you so badly..." He groaned, kissing over you chest and rubbing your tit in his hand. You groaned with pleasure.

"Then have me." You didn't hesitate to pull off the rest of your clothes, helping Remus unbutton his pants and pull them over his ankles. He did the same with his boxers, his length springing free. You bit your lip at the sight, a little nervous for how big he was. This didn't deter you though as you sat on your knees and leaned forward, beckoning him to use you.

"You're so fucking-” Remus let out a groan as he pushed himself inside your mouth, grabbing the back of your head with his hand. You wet his shaft with your tongue, moaning as he began to move down your throat. "So fucking good." His praises made you clamp your knees together, groaning again as you took him as far as you could handle. He gripped your hair roughly and throat fucked you for a few seconds before pulling you off, as if he couldn't control himself. "Turn around."

You did as you were told and spun around onto you hands. He pushed you chest down into the bed lined himself up with your entrance. You tried to sit back onto him, but his other hand held your hips firmly in place.

"Please, Remus," you choked out, your face buried into the mattress. He groaned as he pushed into you slowly, stretching you out with every inch he pressed inside of you.

"Oh, fuck," Remus breathed, moving slowly to let you adjust to his size. This consideration didn't last long before he was pounding you into his mattress, calling you filthy names and tugging on your hair. All the restraint he seemed to have went out the window as he fucked you mercilessly from behind.

"R-Remus. Fuck- me-" you cried, whimpering with every thrust. His hand gripped your hip with a squeeze as he leaned over your body.

"You're taking me so well," He breathed, running his hand under you body. He snaked his hand over your tit and pulled you up against him, making you gasp with pleasure from the new angle. "You're doing so good, angel."

He had you melting from his touch as your body gave out underneath his hands. He bit your neck gently, sucking and kissing on the sweet spot he had found earlier. You groaned as your head lulled back on his shoulder. This was not what you were expecting. You had no complaints though as he reached down between your legs and started pressing on your clit, pushing himself deep inside of you.

“R-Remus,” you warned, struggling to hold yourself up. You could feel a knot forming in your stomach for the second time as his thick cock moved inside of you, putting more pressure on your nerves.

“Just like that, Y/N,” he murmured, his strong hands holding you in place. “Just let go, sweetheart.”

You didn’t have to be told twice as you let yourself release around him, guttural sounds coming out of your mouth. You had no time to feel embarrassed over your moans as he pushed you back on the bed and started fucking you senseless.

“So good, fuck me,” Remus mutter incoherently as he rammed himself inside of you, grabbing at your hips. You looked back at him to watch, and were not disappointed at the sight. When his eyes locked onto yours, he broke. He snapped his hips haphazardly as he released himself inside of you. You moaned again at the feeling of Remus Lupin filling you up with his cum. He thrust into you one last time before falling over you, moving your hair to one side to kiss your neck.

“So fucking good, Y/N,” he praised again, cleaning the both of you up with an impressive flick of his wand. You hummed and turned yourself around in a fucked out daze. He watched you pout as you pulled weakly on his neck. He chuckled under his breath and came down to kiss you. The two of you stayed like that for a while, lazily kissing as his hands rubbed gently down your body, a stark contrast from his rough actions just moments ago.

“I should probably go,” you frowned as he came up for air. He mirrored your response and sighed.

“You’re probably right,” he said, pushing himself off of you. “Here, let me grab you a shirt.” He pulled on his own pants before you heard him shuffle to his trunk. Just as you were about to move to get up, you heard someone bounding up the stairs.

“Shit,” you whispered, frozen in place. You saw Remus’ hands toss a shirt through the curtain before retreating, and you gratefully put it on. Luckily, your dress was still under you. You heard Remus kick your shoes under his bed.

“Moony? Why’d you leave so early?” You heard Sirius ask with a slight slur, stumbling into the room.

“Started boking,” Remus replied casually. “I feel like shit, I’m just gonna go to bed.” Sirius hummed and fell on his bed. You heard him kick off his shoes and manuveur himself under the sheets.

“You and me both, Moons,” Sirius groaned, seemingly too drunk to care about any lie Remus was spewing. Remus moved towards his bed.

“Alright, well. G’night,” Remus murmured, climbing into bed quickly.

“G’night,” Sirius muttered, rummaging through something. You looked to Remus with concern, who only put his finger to his lips as he came to lay down next to you. His haphazard smile seemed to relax you a bit as he pulled you into your chest, humming with content.

“Just go to sleep, love,” he whispered quietly and kissed your head. “I’ll get you back safe and sound.” Perhaps it was against your better judgement, but you seemed to trust Remus wholly to take care of you. That and your body was completely exhausted from him. You murmured a goodnight as you buried yourself into his neck, falling asleep to the sound of his heartbeat. At some point, you heard your brother come in with Peter. Remus momentarily tensed causing you to shift. His grasp tightened on you before he heard Sirius grumble something along the lines of “sick” to James and the room fell silent again.

The second time you stirred, you felt Remus pulling away from you. You mumbled lightly, confused as to why he was getting out of bed. He turned to shush you quietly before stepping out. You heard him shuffle across the room.

“James,” he whispered, “James, wake up.” You sat up quietly in his bed. What the fuck was he doing?

“Mm,” James groaned, turning in his bed. “Moony?”

“Yea it’s me,” Remus said quickly. “Can I borrow your cloak? I think a Slytherin charmed my drink last night and I need to go on a quick mission.” You rolled your eyes at this. Remus was smart, and his lies would perfectly convince James. He would never turn down a prank.

“Oh, shit,” James said, slightly more awake. “Do you want me to come?”

“No,” Remus answered quickly. “Uh, no. I’ll be super quick. I just can’t sleep until I know I got back at them.” This seemed to appease James as you heard him fall back into bed.

“Sure, Moony,” James yawned. “It’s in my trunk.” You heard Remus shuffle through his trunk before coming back around to the other side of your bed. You heard him slip on some shoes before holding the curtain open, once again holding his finger to his lips. You rolled your eyes at this and quietly stepped out of the bed, thankfully blocked by the rest of the room. Remus threw the cloak over the both of you and guiding you to the door, trying to be as quiet as possible. Both of you felt relief as you stepped into the stairway, making your way down to the common room. Nobody was here at this hour. Remus threw the cloak off of you.

“I’m sorry about that,” he said, spinning you around to face him. “I should’ve been more careful.” You shook your head.

“It’s fine, I didn’t mind using you as my pillow for a bit,” you chuckled lightly. “Besides, I could’ve used a bit more caution myself.” You blushed shyly at him. You hadn’t been the most discreet throughout the whole ordeal. Remus laughed at this and ran his thumbs across your hips, causing you to shiver. You wore only his oversized shirt and your panties.

“Nah,” Remus said with his lopsided grin. “I think I quite like your obvious pining for me.” You slapped his chest lightly as he chuckled. “I’ll just have to work extra hard to keep you to myself.” He leaned in to kiss you, and you felt your heart leap. So much for getting over your crush.

“Hmm, I’ll guess I’ll have to keep trying to get you attention then,” you whispered, pulling back from his lips. He hummed and kissed you again, as if he couldn’t get enough.

“Go get some sleep, love. I’m sure you need it,” he teased, flashing another grin at you. You rolled your eyes at him but couldn’t keep your smile down.

“Goodnight, Remus.” You started towards the girls dormitories.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

Remus found himself staying in the common room with James’ cloak, not wanting to return too early. He tried to convince himself this was a bad idea, but he couldn’t justify it. There really wasn’t anything that could stop him from fucking you again. His mind flashed with images of your perfect eyes looking back at him as he rammed himself inside of your perfect pussy. His head fell back onto the couch with a thud. He was a goner.

[demonic0angel]

Prompt: Tim and Dani have a very good vacation in Norway alone

(I got way too into this lmaooo)

Tim looked down at the girl who tried to mug him. “So this is where you recommend going to eat?”

The girl, Dani, looked up at him and raised a hand. He sighed, shook his head a little, and handed her another crisp bill. She smiled and pocketed the cash. Although she was a money-hungry, greedy little thief, she was so ridiculously cute that Tim couldn’t help but forgive her.

Lord help him, his brothers would absolutely tease him ruthlessly for this.

“Yep,” she answered. “The food’s good and the staff here are nice.”

Tim looked at her again. She was wearing worn clothes, and she didn’t look warm enough as she stood there and stared back him, a hint of defiance in her gaze. Tim then turned back to the restaurant and said, “Alright then. You should come with me and recommend some dishes.”

Dani looked befuddled and she glared at him. “Why would I do that?”

“I’ll pay for whatever you want to eat too.”

She relented with only a little hesitation. Tim smirked in victory and followed her inside. As they sat down, Dani ordered everything. He was pleasantly surprised to see her speak such fluent Norwegian despite being American. He had thought she was someone stranded in Norway with no money and had resorted to stealing to get back to US soil, but perhaps it was something else?

He stopped thinking though, as she finished up their order and turned to him.

They stared at each other. He looked at her cat-like eyes, her icy blue irises, her pink lips, her strangely delicate features tinted with a hint of wildness and sharpness like a tiger, her raven hair.

Stephanie would probably laugh at him right now for being down bad. In fact, he had already crossed the line and was already well on his way to being down atrocious.

They observed each other in silence for a long, long moment until Dani eventually frowned, her eyebrows dipping before she snapped, “Why do you keep staring at me!”

“You’re pretty to look at,” Tim said, leaning on his fist.

She blushed bright red. “W-What?!”

Tim smiled. “You’re cute. Did anybody ever tell you that?”

“Screw you!” She hissed like a disgruntled cat. Then she stiffened and said, “I want another twenty dollars!”

Tim smoothly handed her another bill and she turned crimson, but didn’t take it. Tim folded it and put it on the table for her. Dani glared at him and the bill with alternative glances, looking more and more flustered by the second, not knowing what to do with his advances.

Tim felt like he wanted to buy them both tickets back to the US.

Actually, screw it.

“Should I buy you plane tickets so we could go back to the US together?”

Dani hissed with pink cheeks. “Fuck you.”

Tim smirked. “I wish.”

Dani didn’t say anything else until the food arrived. Seafood plates with soup and bread covered the table and filled the air with a delicious aroma, and Dani gave him another light scowl as Tim leaned on his hand and raised an eyebrow.

She pouted at the table before she then mumbled, “I don’t even know you.”

“Then let’s get to know each other,” Tim said. “I’ll pay for the expenses and by the end of it, you’d decide whether or not you want to go back to the US with me.”

Dani grimaced at him, although her face was still pink. Then she finally nodded slowly.

Score! Hah! Who said he couldn’t get a date?!

Tim smiled at her reassuringly as he picked up his spoon. “It’s a deal.”

[famoussharkhairdoknight]

More than friends- Jobe Bellingham

Wearning: slight smut, +18, english is not my first language.

You were in the living room of Bellingham’s house, sitting on the sofa with your legs stretched out and Jobe lying comfortably with his head on your lap. His hand was sliding gently down your thighs, and you were rubbing him in the hair, feeling his breath relax more and more. In recent times your relationship had changed: there was something different, a deep understanding that went beyond simple friendship. You were finding each other searching, exchanging long and understated looks.

While you were staring at the details of his face, you didn’t notice that Jude had just entered the room. He had a curious look, amazed to see his brother so relaxed, almost abandoned at the moment, completely immersed in your attentions. For a moment, his eyes stopped on you, immediately perceiving that there was something different.

Jude could not help but notice how Jobe was taken with you, noticing his obvious erection. There was a complicity between you that Jude had never seen before, and he stood there, watching, trying to figure out if that moment was something more intimate than it seemed.

Jobe, perhaps sensing the presence of Jude, slowly opened his eyes and raised his head, finding himself face to face with his surprised look. "Eh... Jude, are you back yet?" he asked, trying to look as casual as possible.

Jude raised an eyebrow and smiled lightly. " Yes, but I seem to have missed something," he commented with a mischievous note, looking at you both.

Hearing the words of Jude, your gesture stopped, your hand hanging in Jobe’s hair. You felt a little embarrassed, aware of how intimate that scene was. But as soon as you tried to move, Jobe, however, does not seem to agree, he gently took your hand, bringing it back on his head, fingers that were squeezing a little' to make you understand that he did not want you to stop.

"Come on... don’t stop," he whispered, almost begging, without raising his eyes to you. He was relaxed, as if he didn’t care that Jude was there.

Jude watched, amused. "You’re so cute, huh?" he commented, the tone a little mocking.

"Jude," muttered Jobe, distracted, not even opening his eyes, "don’t you have something better to do?"

Jude laughed, shaking his head. "" All right, all right... I’ll leave you to your cuddling session. Enjoy."

As he left the room, Jobe let slip a sigh of relief, tightening his grip on your thigh a little more. " Now we can be at peace," he muttered, squinting as your fingers began to move through his hair.

You feel your face blush, "You’re always so stubborn," you whisper, almost in a rebuke, but with a smile.

He looked up at you, a half smile on his lips. " Only when it comes to you," he replied, letting out more than just affection.

Jobe kept looking at you with a new intensity, a look that made your heart beat a little faster. Without saying a word, he raised his hand and touched your face, fingers moving to read on your cheek, slowly descending towards your lip. He began to play with it, caressing it as if he wanted to study every detail.

Your breath stopped, and you felt his touch warm your skin. Without taking his eyes from yours, Jobe came closer again, letting his face come closer and closer until his lips touched yours.

It was a slow, sweet kiss, but full of tension that you had both held for too long. You just had to answer, wrapping her face in your hands and letting go at that moment, as if everything else had vanished.

When he detached slightly, still close, he looked at you with a half smile on his lips. " How long I’ve been waiting for this," he whispered, not stopping to caress your face.

You smiled, still close to his face. "And apparently I wasn’t the only one."

Jobe smiled at you, his eyes shining with a sweetness you had never seen. Without saying a word, she drew her lips closer to yours again, resuming that kiss with a passion that seemed to grow with every second. You felt his hands slide down your back to the hips, where they stopped, holding you firmly.

With a slow and determined movement, he led you to climb on him, making your bodies adhere in a way that made your heart beat even faster. You groaned as her boner shivered your dressed entrance. His hands were on your hips, fingers sinking slightly, as if he wanted to feel you closer.

You let your arms wrap around his neck, while you continued to kiss him, his lips moving with sweetness and desire against yours. Jobe detached himself for a moment, looking at you with a congenial smile, his breath slightly sluggish.

"you’re so beautiful" he murmured, with a cheeky smile and eyes that didn’t come off of yours. You moaned as you heard his hands go down to your butt and squeeze it while he made you put your entrance closer to his erection dressed and rubbing you making both of them groan softly

"Jobe" you moaned in a low voice, not wanting to be heard by his brother, you let yourself go completely at the moment, clenching you a little more against him, while he was kissing you again, his hands holding you tight as if he never wanted to let go.

He guided your movements by making you rub and groan from the kiss as he slapped your butt to make your movements go faster.

Jobe nibbled on your lip as you groaned feeling close to cum and he guided you in the movements when you came and he followed you around. You were both breathing, your mouths close and still dressed.

He gently caresses your thigh as you were kissing again.

"why don’t we take this to my room?" he asked, putting his hand under your shirt and you smiled nodding.

[mosneakers]

Alex: [Smiles warmly] Hi Coraleye…

Coraleye: [Smiles back] Hi Alex…

Alex: Ready for one last take before we officially call it a wrap?

Coraleye: I guess so! Alex: So how’s life treating you now? You adjusting okay?

Coraleye: Oh… well it's been a whirlwind, to say the least, heh. But I’m finding my footing again. Finally finishing up school. Just barely keeping my head above water some days, but yeah, I’m getting by. Trying to find my new normal.

Alex: [Nods thoughtfully] I want to talk about that a little bit. You’ve had to deal with the aftermath of everything that happened on election night. Do you remember when Cam and I came out to visit you in Brindleton Bay?

Coraleye: Mhm. I sure do. You interviewed some girls I went to school with.

Alex: So, Mackenzie, Briella, Logan… I’m not sure how much you’re aware of, especially with how quickly the media coverage was shut down after election night. But I’ve gotta ask—have you reached out to Coraleye at all since then? Offered any kind of support?

Logan: [Quickly glances at Mackenzie] I’m not sure if we got the chance to reach out yet, have we? Mackenzie:[Feigning innocence] She hasn't filled us in completely, but we’ve heard bits and pieces... Briella: We heard about her and her boyfriend. They broke up, right? [Big grin] Life has a cruel way of teaching us lessons!

Mackenzie presses her lips together, appearing to hold back a laugh, but finally cracks as a sharp cackle spills out.

Mackenzie: Oh my mod, Briella, stop! You can't say that! I just love you. So sorry about her, she's so crazy. Anyways, yeah. We wish her the best. I hope it all works out for her, I really do.

Cam: Well, I think that will probably do it for now, thank you ladies. Alex: Cam's right, thank you for your time. We'll be in touch. Have a happy Harvestfest.

Several weeks later, Britechester-

Alex: Cam and I try not to get too involved with work matters, but I'll be honest, that interview was upsetting. I wonder if they'd still be snickering if they saw what you've been through in these past few months.

Coraleye: Nah, they're the least of my worries. Pretty sure I got the last laugh when it comes to them. [Mischievous grin]

Alex: I'm in awe of your optimism, Coraleye. After all this, you’re really not bitter? I mean, look at Tycho—he lied, tried to erase your memories. And you still take the high road?

Coraleye: Oh no, please don’t get me wrong, Alex! I definitely went through—and sometimes still go through—my naughty phase, from time to time. Alex: [Leans in] You have my attention... Coraleye: Maybe it was for revenge, or a way to cope, or maybe deep down I was just really lonely and had a void to fill. Either way, it got me through some dark times. Perhaps you should book a follow-up interview with Briella, ask her if she found my panties in her boyfriend's room yet. [Waves at camera, winks, and mouths, ‘Hey, Pierce!’] Alex shakes his head amusedly and softly chuckles.

Alex: Damn! You really don't mess around. I'm guessing this doubles as punishment for Tycho as well?

Coraleye: Nope. Actually, his punishment is even better. I'm giving him exactly what he wants. After this documentary is over with, I'm erasing all of our shared memories together. He wanted to mess with my mind so badly, I'll do it for him. Alex: And how do you do that?

Coraleye: Through a spell, of course. You didn't forget that I'm a spellcaster, did you? I'll put the memories in an amulet and give it to our sage of untamed magic. They'll perform a ritual to destroy the memories. Alex: Wow. Remind me to never break your heart... Coraleye: [Smiles] Oh, I will. Alex: [Sighs] Well... Last question we're asking everyone else: Is there any question that you have, after all of this, that still haunts you?

Coraleye: [Tilts head, as she pauses to think] Hmm… I’ve still got to write that paper on my ten-year plan, and somehow I feel even more lost than before. I guess it’s time to start figuring that out now.

[arcandoria]

DA:V Solavellan Ending Questions & Answers

Translated from ROT13 some of the questions made by fans to Trick Weekes on bluesky. I only translated/added some that I felt relevant but do check Trick's replies on bluesky to see more.

Obviously spoilers warning ahead!

Question: will where Solas and Inky end up in the Fade be strictly regret-themed or will her joining and their love influence it into something a bit less bleak (hence the specific elven phrasing)? rooting for my girl not to be in fade jail

Answer: She's speaking both romantically and literally. It won't be terrible if they're in there together.

-

Question: When Solas tells Lavellan that the place he is going is terrible, where exactly are they going? Back to the regret prison or somewhere else?

Answer: The implication is that he's going back to the prison, and now that he'll be working to try to heal the blight while he's there.

-

Question: Does he want to reunite? Is it a choice he makes himself? Lavellan is open and proactive during conversation, but he almost seems resigned. “There is no fate but our love” does he realise he can say no? Solavellan was hands down the best romance Ive ever seen, it has kept me invested in DA for a decade. I desperately want for her to be happy, but never at his expense. Especially after knowing of exploitation and inability to refuse he had with Mythal.

Answer: My intention was that after almost destroying the world, he does not feel he deserves love until he fixes what he did wrong (just like he couldn't move forward until he fixed the wrongs he did in Mythal's service). That's why the Inquisitor has to reach out to him.

-

Question: Was the nature of that solas/Mythal was more queerplatonic than romantic? And if Solas had to choose between Mythal and Lavellan, with whom might he consider sharing his life or save in the face of great danger ?

Answer: Mythal is Solas's past. Horrible mistakes made with good intentions. Lavellan is the hopeful future Solas doesn't think he deserves until he fixes the world he broke.

-

Question: Does Solas love Lavellan as much as he loves Mythal? I know Mythal is kinda all things to him- leader, oldest friend, maybe lover, and that's hard to overcome. On the other hand, his love for Lavellan seems less all-consuming, but purer. Anyway, love to hear your thoughts!

Answer: Mythal is his past, where he made terrible mistakes. A romanced Lavellan is a bright future he doesn't think he deserves until he fixes all of those past mistakes.

-

Question: Could you please tell us, if it is possible, why it was only Mythal's words that allowed Solas to stop this train of endless regrets from rolling into the abyss? I'm sorry, but it seemed too easy to me after so many centuries. Perhaps I don't understand the core of their relationship.

Answer: That's what he needed to hear. Not because he loved Mythal more, but because she was the reason everything went wrong. She, the past, tells him to let go of all the mistakes of the past. And then the Inquisitor he wanted to be with is there to show him a better future.

[lilacxquartz]

Those Late Summer Nights | Chapter 20

satoru gojo x f!reader x suguru geto

plot: moving to the city from a small town was no easy feat, especially to start teaching as a jujutsu sorcerer.

a/n: part 2, aka the continuation is now in process. warning for newcomers: this is a yandere story with dark (non-con, violence) themes. read on with caution. this story does not romanticise either concept.

masterlist • ao3 • chapter directory • < previous chapter • next chapter >

20. Promise

[3 months later]

You have never been one for goodbyes, but life as it had turned out, had already forced you to do so not once, but twice already.

The first time was voluntary; when you had left your sleepy hometown and the long-haunting corrupt influence far behind. It seemed like such a good decision back then, when you at long last, had obtained that prized referral to work at one of the country’s most prestigious Jujutsu institutions. It almost seemed too good to be true, and maybe that’s because it was, because, just like everything else in your life—all of the highs had to come down—inviting the lows to linger, to fester, to… rot.

The second time wasn’t by your own choice, however, but something far, far worse. If you were being honest, you couldn’t have made sense of your situation if you tried. Forced to flee from Tokyo following an obsession that went too far, the ever-lasting consequences of summer had consumed your life to the point where you were once again left a victim of an unrequited influence out of your control.

You’ve had plenty of time to think about just how exactly it all went wrong, too, and just for a while, you were happy to appoint the self-blame. In a twisted sense, you believed that it was your fault for trying to naively infiltrate a jaded world with such fresh hope. Maybe it was wrong of you to have dreamt of a better life; maybe you should never have tried with Jujutsu to begin with. Perhaps you should have taught the ordinary future generations of today because, it wasn’t like they didn’t matter, too. They were more responsible for future cursed energy than they even knew.

…But then again, how were you supposed to know that you were going to be so entangled between… them?

It wasn’t as though you set out to ruin your own life, after all. It was out of your control from the very second you let your guard down—from the moment that you placed your trust in the two people you shouldn’t have. That couldn’t have been on you, though. Surely not.

You did suppose, however, that in some sort of twisted sense, that your return to the city (albeit against your will) could have been considered a reunion of sorts when you were met with those chilling blue eyes once more. What was once a calm blue sea guiding the way now turned out to be a violent storm—its waves dragging you into the murky depths, anchoring you within it—but not quite letting you drown, at least not yet. You instead were trapped. Imprisoned in a floating limbo, forced to endure whatever… this… all was. It was humiliating, perhaps even insulting and you berated yourself mentally every single passing day for not fighting back against Satoru fucking Gojo when he confronted you back in Osaka, but then again, that same pressing question begged your rationality once more; how exactly were you ever supposed to go against someone like him to begin with?

Someone like him, who had the entire world of Jujutsu wrapped right around his finger.

As bleak as it all sounded, as harsh as the reality reigned true; you never had a chance to begin with, did you? Whether you ran away or stayed behind—it would have likely gone this way, because… after a summer of getting to know him, you of all people knew the truth (from learning it the hard way), that Satoru Gojo always got what he wanted.

You sighed as your eyes rolled back to glare at the fluorescent-lit ceiling, the pale flickering glow straining against your eyes. It was almost comedic with how dramatically it all came undone, like it was some sort of sick joke and you were the unsuspecting punchline right at the very end. Tokyo was supposed to be your fresh start away from the monotonous flow of small-town politics and its corrupt influence, so why on earth did it follow you here, too? You did everything right, after all, you studied hard and you persevered, you earned your place in the world, and just as it all finally began to fall into place… it unraveled. It was truly as though the string that you delicately wove through the passage of life was on its last thread, destined to snap from the moment it all connected.

(There was never a chance. There was always something in the way.)

You sat up, trying to avoid the light only to catch a flash of it reflected in the sleek black tiled floors. Closing your eyes in frustration, you tried to think back to the good times. You did suppose that the city was technically everything you had otherwise fantasised it to be; loud, noisy, and bustling with endless life. It was a far cry from the watchful and prying eyes of your quaint town. There was something… special about Tokyo because you were able to simply just… disappear, as one fleeting face of many, a living ghost blurring in and out of the crowd as you had pleased, free at last.

For it to have been taken away just from the introduction of three people, was almost hilarious. It was funny how that all worked. Just three people. Three.

Shoko, bless her heart, was your first real friend who guided you into the person that you desperately yearned to be. Someone both caring yet unrestricted from the confines of a sheltered former adolescence and then, guiding you into the further depths of it all, was… them.

Ah, Suguru Geto. If only you knew, huh? You laid back down with your head now slightly throbbing with a faint aura; the beginning of a migraine. These damned lights. So brooding and mysterious he was—it was a shame that he had to turn out the way that he did—a nightmare disguised as a dream. Was it your fault for admiring him from a distance initially? Did you somehow fall victim to some sort of manipulative act, when you found his calm, almost contemplative personality to be a comfort? His suffocating presence wasn’t something you could quite predict, after all, so possessive and longing, yet somehow subtly so. To have eluded the perceptive gaze of Shoko and even Satoru was almost impressive, but unsurprising because even he managed to fool you at times. Oh, how crazy he made you feel, even for just doubting him at all.

Then there was Satoru Gojo. Ah, Satoru, Satoru, Satoru… Oh, so ever loud and energetic, Satoru… Truth be told, you found him overwhelming at first, but there was a certain quality of his that drew you in. He was good at both carrying the conversation as well as involving you within it, making you feel special when the attention landed on you for just a second and dare you say, even… validated. Just like Suguru however, he couldn’t keep up the act for very long, though, even if he did crumble last. In some ways, he was the most volatile one out of both of them, because beyond that playful facade that he let on, was something else that bubbled and simmered beneath the surface. It was hard to tell at times, but it was certainly there.

Something that wasn’t quite calm, but maybe tender. Something that was… vulnerable and whatever it was, it made him dangerous to be around.

So in the end, if you had to truly reflect, then maybe it was all three of you that were at fault.

All three of you were that were victims of losing yourself in an attempt to look for something meaningful in that endless, unforgiving city. All three of you were subjected to the quickly fleeting addiction that you could never quite hold onto, of being both seen and understood. It was no wonder that you opened up too quickly and too soon, slipping on that pair of rose-tinted glasses longer than you should have. Maybe if you took them off when you had the chance, then you too, could have been yet another passing soul in and out of their lives, but you weren’t.

You got attached and so did they, and now, for a lack of better words, it wasn’t just your life that was ruined, but theirs too. All together, the three of you floated around in an unending, aimless drift, leaving Shoko to pick up the pieces (as usual).

The migraine faded and never thankfully developed, but you still grimaced at the light that flickered all the same. He was home, but not close just yet. All of those riches that lined his pockets and he couldn’t afford to screw in a better bulb for the lights or at least opt for something warmer and less clinical. You wanted to punch that light, to let it shatter and paint the room in a much-needed night, but you couldn’t. So instead, you were illuminated and exposed, plunged into the spotlight, forced to look at the pretty little cell he had confined you to.

Such continuous misery left you wondering if your life could have been… maybe… better if you followed Suguru. In a way, you missed his pretty lies because he at least tried to offer you comfort and see you for who you truly were, but he also hurt you, so you couldn’t forgive him. Twice. He hurt you twice and yet, your mind still drifted to him at times. Why? You couldn’t make sense of it—of him—of the very same man who despite forcing you to bury your past behind and move on—surely had an issue with never letting you go, with never letting anything that ever happened to you… go.

Did this therefore make Satoru better or worse? You didn’t even know anymore. They were both equal runner-ups for the worst human being, that much was for certain. Suguru may have been involved from the start, but he was nothing like Satoru, who was always watching right from the start, more closely than you, or anyone else had ever known. Those burning blue eyes so focused yet serene, locked on you in a way that almost felt invasive. If Suguru was the storm, then Satoru must have been the cataclysm itself.

Devastating. Consequential. Unforgiving.

Indeed, you were never free.

All of the hope, all of the dreams—everything else that fell in between—none of it was ever real.

The only thing that had ever remained consistent throughout this whole experience was the part where Satoru told you that he would never, ever let you go.

The lights above you were now starting to buzz and crackle, fading in and out with every muffled thud. He was approaching. Suddenly, you regretted spending so much time reflecting on the aftermath of your life yet again, knowing that you had spent yet another day moping around, thinking of them, of him… knowing fully well that you were never truly alone.

Satoru would reunite with you every night, on clockwork, never late and always on time.

His voice was calm, always welcoming yet never inviting. You always found yourself flinching as he greeted you, wanting nothing more than to be left alone for the night. Just one night was all you asked him for—it was all you begged for at one point—for him to not talk to you, for him to not… touch you. A single night was all that you asked for, a break from having to play pretend.

“Ah, [name],” Satoru cooed, lowering an unwinding staircase that revealed a mocking glimpse of the room just above. A faint reminder of just how close the surface was, yet so inaccessible. The entrance operated on a motor, using some sort of secret code. There was a dial pad inside of the basement he kept you in as a failsafe just in case it locked him in, but try as you might to crack the code, you never guessed it right and every time you failed, it sent an alert to him. “You haven’t moved an inch from where I left you last! Didn’t I tell you about the importance of needing to stretch, even if it’s just for a minute or two a day?”

“Please just let me go,” you croaked out weakly, knowing that he wasn’t going to oblige, let alone even humour you.

Predictably ignoring your request, he walked over to you, setting down a plain white plastic bag right where you lay, strategically positioning it so that you could spot your favourite snacks and drinks poking out.

“It’s been a hell of a long day, you know,” he continued, adopting a softer tone that almost sounded hopeful, “did you miss me?”

You closed your eyes in an attempt to block him out. “You already know the answer to that one, don’t you?”

Satoru snorted a half-laugh, seeming annoyed but also amused. “You’ll have to admit it one day, [name],” he reminded, “the sooner you learn to… adapt, the sooner it’ll start to look up for you, and maybe, just maybe…” he trailed off, letting the beginning of a promise hang, “I’ll let you see your friends again, maybe I’d even let you see… him,” he paused as he said that last word, his composed demeanour ever so slightly faltering at the indirect mention of Suguru, “so, what do you say?”

You repeated the same answer you always did, “Never, Gojo,” you sighed, already expecting the worst as he took up the free seat next to you on the sofa, settling right where your head lay.

You felt a cold shocking jolt run through your body as his cold hands cupped your face, tilting your head up to meet with his longing yet intense stare. He would do such a thing on occasion, hoping that you would return even a hint of the way you once looked at Suguru before, and yet you didn’t. In your eyes, there was resentment but also, if he looked hard enough, fear.

“What have I told you about being so formal, huh?” he murmured, scoffing a little, “we’ve been over this, you’ll call me Satoru and we’re… we’re going to make this work,” he reminded you, trying to maintain his composure, “I’m not letting you go either way, so you’re going to have to drop that at some point, because like it or not, it’s not up to you how it all goes… it never has been.”

You blinked, unable to reply.

Satoru’s eyes softened for a moment, revealing a hint of internally conflicting vulnerability, maybe even traces of guilt glinting in his stare. “We’ll play pretend for as long as we have to, yeah? We’ll make all of it feel real one day.”

His words cut sharp even if it was just a reminder of something you already knew, that there was some sort of unseen force meddling in the sidelines of your life, forcing you to endure whatever life had in store for you, even if it meant pretending that it was all okay.

One thing did bother you, though.

A question that you looped over and over in the back of your mind and yet you never did dare ask him, as if afraid to hear the answer.

If he was simply fulfilling his promise to never let you go…

…Then why was he punishing you for being here?

[serensama]

Head over Feet

I had to get a plot bunny out after playing DA:VG before I could refocus on my other story, but now this is done, I have another hundred stories I want to write. God damn it. Written as little vignette type scenes, just too lazy to split up into seperate parts. And yes, I listened to Alanis Morrisette's song whilst writing this.

Read on Ao3 Rook was a clutz. 

The biggest walking disaster he’d ever seen; but it was something that made her so quintessentially Rook, he worried he wouldn’t recognise her if she wasn’t tripping over or teetering over a cliff’s edge. 

Lucanis didn’t know how it happened. 

At first he was underwhelmed. Then concerned- but somehow it became funny. Suddenly, unbeknownst to him, it had become endearing. 

How could her falling- be a reason to fall in love? 

It made no sense. 

Neither did the way she looked at him. 

Like he was a fallen angel and not a rising demon. 

Mierda.

---

Everything about her was a surprise. 

From the moment that she had blasted into the Ossuary and into his life, he had been caught off guard. He had been taught from a young age that surprises and being unprepared resulted in death, so instead of gratitude he offered her suspicion. She took it in stride, her bright smile, clothes and jewellery shone like a beacon of hope he hadn’t dared to have since his imprisonment. 

That hope quickly lost some of its shiny veneer by the third time the woman- Rook- had gotten too close to a ledge, or lost her footing or fell too short from a run up and had to cling on for her life by her fingertips. Still, he gave her the benefit of the doubt, Caterina believed she could get him out of that hell and he knew the First Talon would not take any unnecessary risks if it meant getting him back … and back in line to inherit her title. Perhaps it was the magic of the Ossuary that meddled with Rook’s equilibrium and whatever was sustaining it affected her more than her companion, Bellara. 

When they returned to Treviso he still wished to give her a chance to prove him wrong. What with the change of pressure resurfacing from the depths of the sea and any lingering effects of Venatori magic… but after a week of travelling with their leader, he was certain it was more of a “Rook” thing than anything else. Still, hapless or not, he would not discredit her skills, if she was a contract, it would not be one he would take with confidence. Unless he could guarantee the fight was on a tightrope. Or required her to jump from place to place at great height, perhaps over a volcano. 

---

He had lost count how many times in Minrathous he almost had to swoop down to save her… he debated whether he should have forbidden her from doing anything but walking on the sidewalks whenever they were in Treviso, but decided against saying anything to their sometimes clumsy, but well-meaning leader. It was in Rivain, however, where he had wished that he had listened to his instincts.  

She leapt from rock to rock easily enough, her excitement at being back home clear from her joyous laughter; but he was far too invested in his ongoing verbal spar with Davrin, offering to shove the Grey Warden’s sword and shield where even the darkspawn would not go- when he heard the splash. 

And learned a frightening, little known fact about Rook.  

She did not know how to swim. 

A Lord of Fortune, who fearlessly flitted between cliffs, rocks and buildings like a bird- previously a Tevinter galley slave - could not swim.

This woman.  

He had not expected the fear that overcame him when he rushed to the ledge and found only bubbles and ripples. Her arm reached out to him as she pushed herself up from the water, eyes wide with desperation as she took her last gulp of air before sinking back to the depths of the sea. 

Lucanis had never heard spite scream in his head so loudly, not even in the Ossuary as they were both tortured endlessly. Both he and Davrin had followed her into the water, thankful that she was not yet out of their reach. 

After coughing up an alarming amount of water – she was nearly taken from us!- true to Rook form, she laughed it off. She said something glib and acted like it was no big deal she had almost drowned right in front of them. But it was a big deal. Instead of the scent of the lavender oil she wore, she smelled of saltwater and fear, and Spite did not like that. And for once, Lucanis silently agreed. 

--- He broached the topic with her after the third time he bore witness to her dangling on the roots and vines connecting Harding’s room, slowly pulling herself back onto the shockingly ‘perilous’ path. He understood that whilst their dwelling, courtesy of the Dread Wolf, accommodated their needs and served them well, he was not sure how safe they really were on the floating property. 

That was to say, if one were to fall off the edges (Rook… or perhaps Manfred), he feared that they would continue falling through the Fade with nothing to stop them. Lucanis could picture it clearly, Rook in a perpetual free fall, disappearing and reappearing every so often like some sort of screaming cloud.  “Do you hold such little regard for your life? You are a powerful mage, but it would do you good to be a little more careful, Rook. Maybe look a little closer before you leap,” he said when she ventured into the pantry. Like clockwork- always coming to him last after checking in on everyone. 

“I am careful, but I also have faith and I always need to try. Even if I end up looking stupid or get hurt, at least I tried,” she replied with a shrug, her attention caught by the new sample of cheeses he brought back from the markets. Lucanis clucked his tongue and shook his head, taking in the scent of the slowly cooling coffee in his cup.

“Careful? Careful she says!” he snorted incredulously, “how can you say that when I saw you jump from that third floor balcony a week ago after playing with those light beams- all for the sake of more treasure?”

“-I thought that it was a chance to learn more about Solas, not treasure!” “Or just yesterday when you slipped on Harding’s path and I flew down to catch you? It makes me wonder how you survived all these years without your own personal demon to save you?”

Rook paused and turned her head to survey him with a stunned expression. It quickly morphed into amusement and he could practically taste the sass she was about to deliver. 

“Are you my personal demon now, Lucanis?” Rook saw a flash of Spite at the back of Lucanis’ eyes as he peered at her from over the rim of his cup, taking a long sip of coffee, both question and answer hanging in the air between them.  Personal demon? I like that. Say yes!

“Why are you always so worried?”

“Why aren’t you worried enough?” 

“Falling is okay, you know, because it teaches us how to get back up again, Lucanis. I’m scrappy and used to not being perfect all the time. Maybe you should try it sometime. Fall with me- I’ll help you up, promise.” 

 “You want me to fall… with you?”

“Or for me. I’m good with either.” 

--- After an unexpectedly taxing fight to get rid of the gaatlok around Treviso, their team managed to make it back to the Cantori Diamond in one piece. Taash was nursing a dislocated shoulder from an Antaam who caught them unawares and Rook, with a gash on her head she hastily knitted back together for Emmrich to look at upon their return. He had tried to convince her to take his emergency healing draught he always kept tucked away, however she stubbornly refused “in case there was more trouble coming back through the city”, in case they needed it more than her. 

They were crossing the narrow walkway on the way back to the eluvian when Rook swooned mid-step and plummeted from the great height. He did not recognise the sound of his cry as he dove, catching her mere metres away from the marble floor. His voice echoed throughout the casino, alarming Crow and patron alike into silence. Teia and Viago were the first to collect themselves, smart enough to continue their conversation as if nothing had happened at all. Jacobus and Chance coughed awkwardly into their hands to hide the small smiles upon their faces, not game enough to offend the First Talon’s grandson. 

His reaction did not come as a surprise to those who had spent any time with both of them together, Teia had a running bet as to when they would finally venture into something more than friendship. She was currently in the lead, whereas Viago had already lost, believing his comrade would have already fallen and confessed to the jewel-clad mage. Lucanis however was mortified. Everyone knew his greatest weakness was his family, and with his public emotional outburst followed by his immediate exit through the eluvian with Rook safely in his arms, he all but confirmed that Rook was now part of that family- and probably in even more danger because of it. 

No matter, he would foil any harm that came to her whether it be from impact, or contract. 

---

Their team stumbled through the Eluvian, assuming they would be back in the Lighthouse but found themselves in the Hall of Valor instead. Harding looked up at Rook who had been the first to dart into the magical portal, influencing where they were all sent. “Why did we come here? Wouldn’t it have been better to perhaps have the Caretaker spirit look at it? Maybe it can fix-” “This is Rivaini armour Harding, I only trust my people to fix it!” she quipped, rushing through the tunnels with both arms clutching her loose breastplate to her chest. The dwarf shrugged at Lucanis and ran after their friend, both perplexed as to why she did not wish to go back to their Fade home and change into something instead of running around half naked... though being in Rivain not many people would have batted an eye at seeing an eye full of Rook. Lucanis could feel Spite bristle at the idea and could feel his demonic passenger’s wings ready to pop out at a moment’s notice to shield any prying eyes. Even his own. 

The Crow kept his eyes fixed upon the merchant who had not even noticed his customer’s predicament, just senselessly prattling on about how amazing Rook was during the last time she attended the arena with Taash and Neve, and how he had wished he could have been there to watch them take down a dragon near the coast. 

Lucanis stopped listening and focused on the broken straps that lay fallen on either side of her back. As talented as his... friend... was at the arcane arts, the real magic was in the way that armour had managed to stay on and protect her at all. It was just a leather strap and some scales placed in the most ridiculous places, how it managed to keep her alive with all the sentinels, darkspawn, Venatori, Antaam and dragons after her he would never understand. At least her other Rivaini outfit had a stylish cape. 

“... don’t forget Rook, we’re on our way back to Hossberg, you may want to find something a little more... more? Evka and Antoine said there were more blight cysts to take care of and-” “Yes Mother Harding, I’ll make sure I’m covered.” “Fine, get blighted, see if I care... oh no that was too mean. I don’t mean that, I don’t want anyone to be blighted.” “Relax Harding, I know,” Rook chuckled as the former scout visibly relaxed. “I’ll take that one Mateo, I’ve not seen it before.” 

The two women disappeared into a tunnel and had Lucanis guard the pathway so no one could walk in on the changing mage. When she walked past him to order a repair of her armour, he had to remind Spite to pick up his jaw from the floor. Indigo hued leather from top to toe, plumage around her shoulders to draw in everyone’s gaze to her very exposed decollete, the sash around her waist cinching her deliciously to encourage his eyes to wander down the curve of her hips...  She looked like a Crow. She looked like she belonged with him. 

“Well Lucanis, what do you think? Maybe in another life, I could’ve been a Crow?” she asked, exaggeratingly twirling around until a smirk lifted the corner of his lips. “Why not this one?” he replied. “Are you asking for my last name to become Dellamorte?”

Harding suppressed her giggle and looked up at him, her eyes twinkling expectantly.  “Well... I...” “I guess I could always be a Cantori, Teia has been offering since I met her. Or a De Riva, Viago was quite kind to me when we had dinner the other night-” “When… why… did you have dinner alone with Viago?” “Or maybe I can make a ninth house? The House of Rook!” she chimed happily, ignoring the deadpan stare of the assassin behind her. As well as the dip in the rocks which almost had her  falling down the stairs into the bar below. Lucanis was at her side in an instant, grabbing her by the wrist and tugging her back with practised ease. “Or maybe we’re just getting ahead of ourselves a little. First learn to walk in the shoes of a Crow, before trying to fly, eh Rook?” he grinned, pulling her closer to him. 

Like you, Lucanis. Two birds. Together. Same. 

“Well, I’ve already wriggled into the pants of a Crow today, it shouldn't be too hard to manage the boots.” 

---

“You’re more than what you’re going through and you wear it well.” 

She was breaking him down. Time and again, any walls she found, she broke them. Any doors in her way, magically opened by her whims alone. He had stayed away from her the moment that Spite had shown a special interest in her, convinced himself it was best for both of them... but who was he against the force of nature that was Rook? If Gods themselves took note of her, feared what she could do, what was one mortal man with a knife? He may not be able to kill a cloud-face god, but he may yet temper her.  “This isn't a good idea,” he cautioned himself more than her, unable to fight the pull she had over him any longer.  “Sometimes a bad idea is better,” she purred, one eyebrow cocked.  “You like to walk a little too close to the edge,” he grinned back at her, enjoying the way her cheeks lightly flushed in the dim lighting of his quarters. He had long imagined the pretty way her hair would fan across the pillow or the way her voice would sound crisper as they bounced off the stone walls...  “So do you,” she remarked, lightly skimming her finger over his vest.  “At least I know I’m doing it…” he continued, closing the remaining space between them, his heart pounding in his throat at the sight of her eyes shut and head tilted back to accept him, lips slightly open ready for... but what if she didn’t realise what she was doing? What if he was the only one who again knew that they were walking along the edge, and she didn’t realise the mistake she was making- and he was the only one who could save her? Lucanis pulled away just a breath away from the feel of her mouth on his and turned away from her in panicked shame.

“I need to clear my head, excuse me.”

The Crow let himself steal one more glance of her and felt the keen stab of regret in his gut from the way her shoulders fell in disappointment. Again.   ---

“Neve, in the Fade with Rook and Spite, you were there. I mean not you, but you know what I mean. You helped Rook. Sort of.” “Sort of? Well isn’t that flattering. At least I’m on your mind,” the detective replied, smiling at him. 

“You are. And not just then.” 

“I... oh. Well then.”

He was about to continue when a soft gasp caught his attention, snapping his head toward the sound. 

Rook had slipped on the fallen log-turned-bridge on their way back to the Veil Jumpers’ camp. She landed on her wrist and excused herself, violently pulling away from him and his offer to bandage up her hand. Citing that she was fine and that she could do it. 

‘Everything was fine’, even though she stalked ahead of them, never quite letting him or Neve walk beside her. 

“Let her cool off, Lucanis. She is probably feeling embarrassed by this all,” the ice mage said calmly. 

“I... I simply meant you were on my mind a lot since what happened in Minathous with the dragon. I always think, what if Rook hadn’t chosen to save Treviso and how I would have fared in your situation? I admire your strength and focus.” “I appreciate the sentiment... but I don’t think that’s how Rook took what you said. If I didn’t hear it that way...” 

“How did you take-.... Mierda.” 

Neve looked at him sympathetically. Traversing the crossroads or managing his relationship with the literal demon inside of him proved to be less befuddling than trying to navigate his path toward Rook. 

He did not fail to notice how she had remained quiet throughout the rest of the journey upon her return, nor did he miss the way that she stuck next to the Grey Warden and his gryphon, Assan doing his best to keep him a fair distance away from her.  I can kill the cat bird, Lucanis. And the muscle elf too. Make her listen. Understand.

No, Spite. She is allowed to speak to her friends. 

But she smells of tears and herbs. You hurt her.

She fell Spite, I did not push her or mean to cause her any harm, you know this. I would never.  

You hurt her. Because she fell for you. 

Lucanis allowed himself to slow down and watch her as she fought with herself not to look back at him. Her eyes were glassy and the skin around them a little red. He was not fool enough to believe that the pain from her wrist was enough to make her cry. 

You. It was you, Demon Crow. 

---

She had been calling his name- HIS NAME- when she was tricked into the Fade by that cursed Dread Wolf. 

He called back frantically, but she was already gone. 

The team searched everywhere on that fucking island but could not find her. He didn’t even have time or capacity to properly mourn the loss of Harding, he could only think of Rook being somewhere he couldn’t get to, screaming for his help. 

Spite had taken over more than he cared to admit, the demon doing its best to offer his host, partner, any respite he could offer. It was a boon at the start but he soon his mind reflected within the Fade to create his own personal torture chamber, tailored to his every regret. Everywhere were things that reminded him of Rook and every moment he wasted between them. 

It had been days. And then weeks. Bellara kept a daily count to remind them (him) of everyday they (he) continued to fail her. 

He could not save her, like she had for him. He had started to lose all the hope she had instilled into him, part of him bitter that she had done so at all. Angry at himself for thinking it may have been alright to dream of something more than what had been planned for him, that he could choose her and even a life without the Crows…  

But when the third week passed without hearing her voice, and he feared that maybe he had already begun to forget what it sounded like... Emmrich cried out excitedly and pulled her out, tired and scared. 

When she fell forward into his awaiting arms, he wanted to cry from relief. Grateful and thanking the Maker, he silently promised that she would never fall anywhere, in the Fade or in the physical world- without him there to catch her. 

---

She kept her promise. He helped her kill a god, and she waited for him in her bed with arms wide open, beckoning him to lay beside her. To sleep next to the woman he loved, without any fear, was more than enough reward for him. Saving the world was just a bonus. 

The sound of her breathing, the warmth of her skin against his, the strong and steady beat of her heart pressed against his back as she held him tightly. He didn’t care how battered and bruised he was, nothing felt better than being allowed sanctuary within her embrace. 

He slept deep and well, something he couldn’t remember doing since before his training as a Crow. So it was a pleasant surprise that for the first time since meeting him, Rook had caught him teetering too close to the edge of the bed and snatched him up before he fell on his face. He smiled as she tightened her hold on him, throwing a leg over him playfully, promising that he was safe and to go back to sleep through her own yawns. 

Lucanis was happy. Happy she was the type of person who could trip over air and fall freely, because all that time, she was trying to teach him how to do it himself. To fall back and know that someone was there to catch you. Just in a very different, wonderful, way. 

“It’s still early Luca… stop thinking too much and sleep love,” she murmured into his shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to his skin before succumbing to her exhaustion once more. 

Luca? That’s new. 

I have been called many things, this one I like, but I have another title I like much more. 

Crow? Personal demon? Demon of Vyrantium? First Talon?

Rook’s. 

[jaaklops]

so. the s2 intro sure is something huh

i was rewatching it and i found a LOT of symbolism in just the shots alone and im not good at analyzing so be warned

spoilers for s2 act 1 ahead! now you’ve been warned for that too

so first we start off with vi and jinx. vi rubs off the tattoo on her cheek or smudges something on it; she’s losing herself/her real self is buried in the grief and anger she feels after losing jinx during the battle, and now losing caitlyn. vi remains sitting, lingering in her emotions, while jinx stands up, and i read this as her standing up to be the new symbol zaun needs like sevika told her. vi, with her head down, is left behind while it focuses on jinx

new shot to ekko. he’s still. not moving. he’s off in the distance, not really involved at the time. he is standing in the other side of where jinx was,, maybe this signifies how far apart they are now??

second picture, he’s more active, he’s up front. it doesn’t seem like hes a major part right now but when things start to pick up he’s going to be involved

i honestly don’t know about this one but if you have any clue than do assist

cut to viktor. he’s in a cloak, picking up and holding a plain white mask. he’s becoming this god like figure who can heal the suffering (those who don’t show their true faces..the mask?) and he believes this is his new destiny. there’s light from above

later in the intro he is about to put on the mask/looking more closely at it. by now the light is gone, and it’s only coming from the mask. maybe he puts all his motivation into taking the suffering away from these people and that’s all he can see..and then jayce steps in.

(jayce/viktor’s arcs are still gonna be close together even though viktor leaves)

cut to ambessa. her face is covered by darkness and its overall just a bit dim. she’s holding a black rose and black petals are behind her. she makes no move to pick them up, instead leaving the mess for someone else. she planned the attack at the memorial in secret, and she gives power to caitlyn when in reality she’s the one pulling the strings.

in this she’s relaxed, and it looks suspiciously similar to a painting i’ve seen before but i DON’T KNOW WHICH ONE omg

cut to caitlyn. she’s almost entirely shrouded in darkness, with the exception of a bit of light in front of her face. she looks down, away from it, and she looks almost annoyed by it—her spiral into madness(i think we can call it that?)

her back is facing what looks like a curtain, and then she looks up, as if facing an unseen crowd, much more pulled together than what she was just a second ago. signifies her pulling herself together to lead piltover.

assuming it’s a stage though, shouldn’t she be at the front?

it’s very…very. that the shot of ambessa and this shot of caitlyn were put right next to each other ykyk

gonna be so honest i have no idea what this one could mean…very vague

intimidating shot of ambessa holding a black rose—the rose is the focus, while ambessa’s face is blurred. perhaps symbolizes piltover and how they’re in ambessa’s hands, not whoever the piltovians think is leading them. of course they don’t really know that, and they probably won’t until later in the season

MELLL ok for a while i too wondered what some of that even meant but then i was like WAIT.

in the first picture mel is surrounded by hands we only see in shadows. this is maybe to communicate the pressure mel feels from her mother and how it’s closing in on her all at once/she’s struggling to come to terms with everything thats happened, and now she has to deal with ambessa scheming and she wants to dismantle it, since she knows first hand just how ambessa is and she doesn’t want piltover to face the same fate

in the second picture, she’s breaking free from the hands around her and standing up for herself/fighting back

in the third picture she finds herself where ambessa once was. there’s much more light here, and the black rose (maybe still symbolizing piltover?) lays beside her. the black petals ambessa left behind are going away with the wind..l ambessa is defeated

cut to jinx again. she’s becoming fully realized as the new symbol of zaun, one that neither vander nor silco could be. waving the flag even though it looks just a tad too big for her

pretty self explanatory. caitvi’s arc

unless?

in the first picture it almost looks like vi’s staring into a mirror but no, they’re standing right in don’t of each other. neither vi nor caitlyn can see each other eye to eye, with both of each other’s emotions flying

they come to embrace but they almost seem to be thrown apart by an invisible force or pulled away from each other. so close to understanding each other but so far at the same time

ok now this i LOVE this one. see on another post that the second picture is a reference to macbeth and i just MWAH.

also pretty self explanatory..caitlyn’s arc

first picture, she’s spiraling absolutely losing her shit. pretty close to what we saw in act 1 except we were never showed it to this degree. a mental picture. she’s trying to pull everything together so she can be the leader she’s been appointed to be but she just can’t

second picture is said macbeth reference. also symbolic to her being blinded by her tunnel vision of revenge. she’s grieving you guys :(

third picture, her eyes are open and she’s looking at us like she knows something she didn’t before. it’s a realization and it’s definitely gonna be something surprising

—

hoo boy that was a doozy

honestly guys i do not know how to analyze well so i will say now that this sucked☠️but its been bouncing around in my head for a little so maybe someone can see this and make something wayyyy better with it

and besides its early in the season so this is probably all wrong😭

[randomingoftherandomness]

modern au whete zyc is a stripper and zyz is an older businessman whos at the club with work friends and is initially bored af until he sees zyc and goes hmmmmmm

A/N: I finally caught the bug that has been going around. So I was laid up for the better part of the weekend. I see the fic prompts in my inbox, so thanks everyone so kindly for sending them in! Sorry for the lack of fics from my end. I'm afraid this week will be very jam-packed on my end, but I shall endeavour to keep the fics coming :)

Enjoy this one!

--

Li Lun has always brought out the best and the worst of Zhu Yan. Lately, it has been a lot of the latter.

Friends since the moment they first met, they'd changed jobs together, climbed the corporate ladder, backstabbed and schemed their way to where they both are now -- titans of their industry who were both competitors and collaborators all the same. You couldn't speak one's name without mentioning the other, and it was just right too.

But twenty-five years of the hustle is, for better or worse, starting to weigh on him. He has seen it all.

The bloodthirst that is only slaked by a vicious takeover. Walking arm-in-arm into the most exclusive parties with the most beautiful people, tasting the best champagne and the best caviar, sleeping in the most expensive hotels that money can buy.

Zhu Yan has done it all. And he did it with Li Lun by his side.

It's another Friday. Another looming weekend that he has to stare down the barrel of, wondering what will it be this time -- a weekend he will lose to the sex and the drugs in the arms of someone his assistants will make sign ironclad NDAs before they make the hotel lobby? Or a weekend holed up in his giant penthouse watching something on his television without actually watching him.

He's about to leave his office when Li Lun slings an arm around his shoulders, talking his ear off about this new place one of the boys found. Zhu Yan is only half-listening, not even paying attention when he is steered towards the VIP parking spaces, parked in the passenger seat of his own car as Li Lun takes the wheel.

By the time he comes back to himself, Li Lun is laughing in his ear as the music swells along with the cheers of the crowd when the spotlight singles down on the stage.

There's a pole on the said stage, plenty of half-naked people playing the wait staff lingering around, and equally just as many dangerous-looking men in the perimeter of the room. Zhu Yan's not that slow as to not put two and two together.

He is about to turn to Li Lun, to ask him what's going on when the music stops and all lights but the spotlight turn off.

And out of the shadows, steps an angel.

He has nothing on but a silver thong and a pair of wings the colour of a raven's that sit dark and flared on his back. The hint of purples and blues glitter and shift as he walks into the light. But the first thing that Zhu Yan notes when the angel comes into full view is how everything else falls away at the sight of his beauty.

Slender and pale, there is a litheness in his body as he hypnotises the crowd with his walk. Dark hair slicked back, an alluring blush sits high on his cheekbones, accentuated by plump red lips that invite the most ardent of kisses.

Then, the angel tilts his face up to the light and opens his eyes.

They're the most stunning shade of blue. Contacts, perhaps, but to Zhu Yan it only serves to accentuate the almost cold aura the angel gives. The world hushes when he takes a hand to the pole and pulls himself into position.

He can vaguely feel Li Lun saying something into his ear and a drink being pressed into his hand, but to Zhu Yan, all that exists at that moment is the way the angel is dancing in the spotlight.

For a beat, Zhu Yan feels a deep sour twist in his gut when the men and women closest to his angel reach out for him. Clamouring, arms outstretched, they look like devotees worshipping their god. For another beat, Zhu Yan wishes he was there with them. On his knees in supplication, lips kissing the arch of his angel's feet.

The angel twirls, legs stretched showing off his incredible flexibility. Zhu Yan's eyes follow when he dismounts, rolling his hips, and tossing a look over his shoulders as he goes. It makes his heartbeat stutter and Zhu Yan realises that this is the first time in a long time that he can honestly say that he feels alive. Alive in the way that matters. Present, in the moment, no longer just a passenger in his own life.

With that in mind, even before his angel steps off his stage, Zhu Yan is calling the maître d over to make his introductions. Li Lun is raising his eyebrows at him, no doubt thinking about what he could tease him for come Monday, but Zhu Yan does not think that this will be something for the weekend.

No. Zhu Yan knows that he won't rest until his angel is his alone and no one else's. And as he leaves the glass of liquor that he has yet to drink from, ignoring the way Li Lun is calling him back, he has a feeling that he will do everything in his power to make sure that he at least knows his angel's name before the night is over.

[hheaven-sentt]

blood and bone III

summary: vulnerability leads to injury. sometimes, injuries can heal with minimal scarring | leon kennedy x gn!reader

word count: 4.8k

warnings: mentions of violence and gore, alcohol consumption, language, two idiots in love, angst for a bit, mentions of regrets and a bit of self loathing, reveal about reader (i have been planting the seeds of it omg i'm so excited)

notes: part 3 as promised omg i feel unstoppable | ao3

one | two

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It feels like there’s a hole in your chest. You go through the motions, not paying attention to much else. It feels good to throw yourself into your work. There’s nothing else keeping you steady anymore. The sting of rejection hangs heavy on your skin, it’s all you can think about. Does Leon know? Does he know that you want to know him as intimately as you know guts and sinew? Does he know how bad it hurts to know that he won’t let you?

“You’re being dramatic,” Rebecca says. You look at her through your lashes over the files you’re examining. “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad,”

You sigh. No, perhaps it wasn’t. “I don’t know,”

Rebecca frowns, contorting her soft features into some kind of sympathy, and leaves you to your sorrow.

Your apartment is so empty when you return to it. It’s always been this way, but it somehow feels worse now. Before your trip to New York, you’d had something to hope for. You felt a bit brighter. Now, you feel as empty as the living room of your place. It’s too cold here.

You collect your forgotten glass from last night. There’s a bit of liquor still loose in the bottom. You wash it out in the sink and place the glass on the counter. You feel like crying.

Everything is too much. The case that is no longer yours lives in your brain, Leon’s rejection weighs down your bones, and you feel more alone than you have in months.

You don’t even realize you’re crying until the salty taste runs over your lips. Tears claw at your throat, feeling like barbed wire scratching at your insides. You try to blink them away, but it just makes their assault worse. With a sigh, you sink to the floor. You feel pathetic, crying on your kitchen linoleum. There's nothing worse than crying alone in a place not meant for tears. You breathe in deeply, feeling empty with each intake. You put your head in your hands.

It’s then that your phone rings. With a groan, you stand, snagging the phone from where it rests on the counter. You flip it open with one hand.

“Hello?” you ask, sniffing aggressively in order to maintain some sort of composure.

“You okay?” Rebecca’s voice, soft and delicate, drifts into your ear from the speaker.

“Yeah,” you lie. “Place is real dusty, made the mistake of kicking it all up,”

With a small laugh, Rebecca continues. “I just wanted to remind you of the gala tomorrow night. The whole team is going, which includes you, so wear something nice,”

You roll your eyes. “I think I’ll sit this one out. Those places make me anxious anyway,”

“No way,” Rebecca says. “You have to come. You’re, like, the guest of honor,”

You frown deeply, scrunching your features together in what looks like a wince. A gala is the last thing you need right now. It really sounds like your worst nightmare.

“He’ll be there,” Rebecca says. You frown more.

“Is that supposed to convince me to come?” you ask, picking at a piece of the counter that’s peeling up.

“When’s the last time you saw him?”

“Probably a month ago,” you say, pursing your lips. “Haven’t seen him since we got back from New York,”

“Yikes,” Rebecca says. You roll your eyes. She doesn’t know the half of it. “Just wear something nice, okay? I expect to see you decked out in all your best jewels,”

“Right, because I’m known for those,” you joke.

She bids you goodbye, and you stare at the shadows on your floor cast by your body in the light of the rangehood. You don’t even know what you would say to Leon. An apology doesn’t seem quite right, neither does pretending nothing ever happened. If anything, you’re sort of hoping he ignores you completely. That would be much easier than pretending to enjoy small talk.

With a groan, you take yourself to bed. This is something you can think about in the morning.

The sunlight does not shed any new perspective on the situation. You’re hopelessly staring at your closest, running through your options of what to wear.

“This is childish,” you mumble to no one in particular, and thread through your clothes to find a simple button down and pleated pants. They will have to do.

You dress quickly. You’re stuffing your shirt into your pants when a button pops off. It lands with a clang against your mirror. You groan, a long, drawn out sound that releases some of your tension. Why can’t anything go right for you on days like this? You reach down to pick up the fallen button, choosing to discard it on your nightstand. Maybe you could figure out how to sew it back on. It can’t be much different than sewing up a wound, right?

The taxi ride to the banquet hall is silent, save for the staticky noise of the radio. The cabbie doesn’t speak, and you prefer it that way. There’s not much for you to say anyway, at least in terms of small talk. You’re not exactly keen on sharing your pathetic situation either. So you remain silent until you pull up to the building. Checking your pockets for your necessities, you push out of the cab. It’s starting to drizzle, so you hurry inside.

You find Rebecca quickly, wearing a beautiful tan dress that hugs her figure well. You suddenly feel frumpy. The cuffs of your sleeves are fraying, your shoes are a size too small, and your pants barely brush the tops of your feet. Maybe you should’ve just stayed home.

“You made it!” Rebecca cheers, shoving a glass of champagne into your hand. “I wasn’t entirely sure you would,”

You force a smile, and say, “Me neither,”

She grins at you, threading her arm through yours. She drags you amongst the other guests, greeting the ones she knows and introducing herself to the ones she doesn’t. You admire her ability to fit into any space. There’s no evidence to suggest that she has ever seen horror, no clues that point to sorrow running in her veins. You cannot say the same for yourself. You’re fidgety, uncomfortable, and try your best not to speak to others. Your eyes shift across the ballroom, looking at the hundreds of heads that are crammed into the space. It makes you frown.

“Doing okay?” Rebecca asks. You nod. “We can find somewhere to sit?”

“You keep mingling,” you say, pulling your arm free from her. “Come find me when it gets boring,”

She flashes you a smile that has lingering worry, and lets you drift into the crowd. This is the last place you want to be, and she knows it. You find an empty table near a big window. The curtains are drawn back, and you can see the rain beginning to pelt down onto the courtyard outside. You’re not sure how long you watch the rain fall, casually sipping your champagne. The screech of a chair being pulled out beside you draws you back to reality.

Leon looks handsome, albeit uncomfortable, in his pressed suit. He fidgets with the cuffs of his jacket as he sits, pointedly avoiding eye contact with you. You swallow hard.

“You looked lonely,” he says, adjusting in his chair. “Figured you could use some company,”

“I appreciate the kindness,” you say, setting your glass onto the table. He finally levels his gaze on you, and a chill snakes down your spine. “I’m alright, though,”

“Maybe I just wanted an excuse to get away from the crowd,” he says, half smiling. 

You’re not sure what to say, so you don’t say anything. You turn your gaze back to the throng of people casually conversing like nothing bad has ever happened. The thought makes you frown. Of all the horrors and devastation you’ve seen, this has got to be the worst. People mingling and drinking like others aren’t dying a few states away.

“Weird, isn’t it?” Leon’s voice pulls you back to him. It’s a bit gruff and worn, like he’s been talking all night. Maybe he has. “Seeing people dance and laugh and be so care free?”

You nod. “They have no idea what’s out there,”

“No, they don’t,” he says, trailing his eyes over your crossed legs. “Maybe it’s better that way,”

“Maybe,” you muse, reaching for your glass again. It was half full before Leon sat down; it’s now almost completely empty. Your mouth feels dry.

“How’ve you been?” Leon asks, leaning forward, forearms on his knees. You watch him carefully, like he’s hiding something.

“Fine,” you say. You’re not sure why the words come out so clipped. You can’t find it in yourself to be sorry, though. He wants arm’s length? That’s what you’ll give him. “You?”

He frowns. “I’m alright. Just haven’t heard from you,”

“Didn’t know you wanted to,” you say. The lines around his mouth deepen, and you want to kiss them away.

“Are we back to this, then?” he asks. You feel his gaze on every inch of your skin. You feel suddenly exposed, raw. You frown.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” you ask, swallowing. “Easier that way,”

You’re not sure why you throw the words back in his face, but you don’t exactly regret it. He watches you like he’s studying you.

“Is that what you want?” he asks, voice low and delicate, like he’s treading uncharted waters. You suppose that’s exactly what he’s doing.

You frown. “You said it. Not me,”

“But is that what you want?”

You don’t know. You want him to give you more than surface level. You want him to be open with you. You want him to laugh at your jokes, and sit on your couch, and help you cook dinner. You want him to know you.

“I don’t know, Leon,” you say. Something sparks in his eyes, an emotion you can’t quite place.

He’s silent for a while before asking, “What’s your sister’s name?”

You gape at him. “Angela,”

“Did you like having a sibling growing up?” he asks, scooting his chair a few inches closer.

You smile a bit. “Sometimes. Other times, I wanted her to disappear. Y’know, sibling quarrel and all that,”

“I don’t, actually,” he says. You furrow your brow. “I didn’t have any siblings,”

“Oh,” you say, because there’s not much else you can say. “You’re welcome to have mine, if you like,”

He laughs then, bright and wide. “I think I’m alright. I’ve learned to like being alone,”

“What did you do?” you ask. “Before everything, I mean,”

He contemplates your question for a moment, like he’s deciding if he wants to share pieces of himself with you. “I was a cop,”

“Noble,” you say, smiling. “That tracks,”

“What did you do?”

“Nothing,” you say, sighing. “Was training to be an EMT, but…things got in the way, and now I’m here,”

“So you’ve always been interested in medicine?” he asks. You nod. “Did you ever want to be a doctor?”

“No,” you say. “Wanted to be in the thick of it. Saving lives, and all that,”

He grins. “Bet you regret that a bit now,”

You shrug. “Sometimes. I like my job,”

“Even when it’s hard?”

“Even when it’s hard,”

He’s silent then. You watch him watch you. Something shifts in the tension between you, and you relax into your chair a bit more. There’s no one else in the room, no music playing, nothing. Just you and Leon, trying your hands at getting to know someone. You’re not sure you know how to be vulnerable like this anymore, not after everything. Visions of blood caked under your fingernails and memories of the screams of the damned make knowing another person challenging.

“What’s your favorite color?” you ask. He grins at you like a child.

“Green,” he says. You nod. “Yours?”

“I like a good burgundy,” you say. He rolls his eyes playfully. “Or maroon,”

“Are those not the same thing?”

You laugh. “Not even close. Burgundy is more brown, maroon is more of a reddish purple,”

“Right, my bad,” he says, smiling.

The hole in your chest begins to close. This feels like an olive branch. You want to pull him into your orbit, feel him on every inch of your skin. You want him to consume you. You’re almost positive that he would.

“Come dance with me,” he says. You almost drop your jaw at the suggestion.

“Who are you and what have you done with Leon?” you tease, wringing your hands together. You want to take him up on the offer, more than you think you know, but it doesn’t seem like something he would do. You’re almost worried that this is some cruel ploy.

He laughs. “We can do something normal for once. No harm in it,”

You nod, standing to follow him into the crowd of other couples. His hand is steadfast on your waist, the other gently clasping one of your own. You feel stiff as he leads.

“Loosen up,” he says, leaning further into you. Your throat feels like it closes up.

“I’m loose,” you lie. He grins at you, perfectly soft lips pulling around his stupidly white teeth. God, you want to kiss him.

You decide then that you don’t want easy. You don’t want to keep him at an arm’s length, and you’ll do anything to convince him he doesn’t want it either. You want him, wholly and vulnerable, completely. You want him to look out for you. You want to do mundane, domestic things with him. You want to cut his hair because the barber never gets it right. You want to walk into the kitchen and see him doing the dishes, not because you asked but because he wanted to clean up your conjoined space. You want to fold laundry with him.

You’ve never wanted this way, or this much. Before, you’d been so content to let him be cold and detached, to throw yourself into your work and live alone. Now, you’re not happy with that. And you think he knows that too.

“You look nice tonight,” he says, voice low and gentle. It washes over you in a wave, settling your bones and warming your blood.

“Careful,” you tease, smiling. “I might think you’ve gone soft on me,”

“I think you knew that already,” he says. “This is the part where you tell me that I look nice too,”

He does look nice. You knew that already. His suit is almost all black, save for the cuff links that shine against the lights of the ballroom. He looks more than nice. He looks perfect, collected.

“Well, now you’ve gone too far,” you say, grinning so wide that your cheeks hurt. He rolls his eyes. “You do look nice, though,”

When the music fades out, he doesn’t let go. You don’t want him to anyway. You want to stay here, like this, forever. You want him to keep holding you until you’re both no more than dust. He drums a rhythm on your side with his fingers, and a shiver runs through you.

“Take a walk with me,” he says, almost bumping his nose with yours when he leans in to look at you. He’s a hair’s width away, and if you leaned in a touch, you’d be kissing him. You wonder what would happen if you did.

“Okay,” you say.

He leads you out of the crowd by your hand, which you can feel the beads of sweat beginning to form upon. You catch Rebecca’s eye as you move through the crowd. She gives you a wide smile and a subtle thumbs up, which you scowl at. It’s raining hard when you exit the ballroom. You can barely see the cars on the street ahead of you through the thick sheet of water coming down.

“Still want to take that walk?” you ask, looking up at Leon. He’s still holding your hand. He grins at you.

“Afraid you’ll melt?” he returns. You laugh. He gives your hand a squeeze. “Just for a bit,”

You’re soaked to the bone two minutes after you step into the shower. Your clothes stick to every inch of your skin and a cold wind blows, threatening to freeze the very marrow within your body. You won’t let it, not when Leon is looking at you the way he is, cheeks tinged pink from laughter and smiling so wide that you can see your reflection in his teeth.

He never once lets go of your hand as he leads you down the sidewalk. You’re silent, but it’s not uncomfortable. A car whizzes by, nearly splashing you, but Leon pulls you into him and covers your body with his. You catch a whiff of whatever fancy cologne he’s wearing, and you almost feel drunk on it. Maybe it’s the champagne you’d been sipping, but you’re not sure. He keeps you within reach, just in case another car attempts to sour your evening, he says.

“Why do you never call me by my name?” he asks suddenly, looking at you through stringy and soaked hair.

You shrug. “Everyone calls you by your name,” you say. “That’s also not entirely true. I only call you ‘Kennedy’ sometimes,”

“Only when you’re mad at me,” he says, grinning. “Which is often,”

“Well,” you say, returning the wattage of his smile. “There’s your answer,”

You stare at him for a moment, taking in the sheer beauty of his person. Before, you’d thought he was all hard edges and crisp lines. That he would cut you if you got too close. Now, though, in this moment and this lighting, he is the softest thing you’ve ever seen. Round cheekbones, soft lips, gentle features that are perfectly symmetrical. He has a few freckles dotted across his cheeks, smile lines that make his eyes crinkle. A hairline scar that extends across his right cheek. Without thinking, you reach out, smoothing your fingertips over it. It’s not that deep, barely snagging on the ridges of your fingerprints. You hear a breath hitch in his throat at the movement.

“Sorry,” you say, retracting your hand. “I didn’t mean to do that,”

“It’s okay,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. His eyes scan your face, lashes fluttering against the assault of the rain. He returns the gentle gesture by pushing a few wet strands of hair out of your eyes. His touch is ghostly, barely there.

“I never thanked you,” you say. He furrows his brows. “For staying with me that night. It…it really helped me,”

“You needed me,” he says. “Did you know that you snore?”

You bark a laugh that you can’t stop from bubbling over the surface. “I do not,”

He grins. “You totally do. It’s almost scary. I didn’t know a person could make that kind of noise,”

“You’re so mean,” you say, frowning. “You really know how to flatter someone,”

He rolls his eyes. “C’mon, let’s go. I need out of these clothes,”

He leads you down a few winding streets, making turns that seem random. It dawns on you then that he’s bringing you back to his apartment. Your heart leaps into your throat, clogging up your breath and your functioning. Your brain is swimming. You’re going to see how he lives, what his life looks like outside of work. He’s letting you.

He only drops your hand to get the door open. The lock jams, which you can’t help but laugh at, and then he’s finally letting you into his space.

His apartment is almost bare, similar to yours. White walls wrap the space, a few items dotted around on tables. He doesn’t own a television, you note. There’s a wall of shelves, though, filled pretty decently with books. You didn’t take him for a reader, but you suppose it makes sense. You toe your shoes off near the door, soaked clothes dripping onto the hardwood floor beneath you.

“Sorry about the mess,” you say, looking up at him. He shrugs.

“Better rain water than something else,” he says. You smile.

You follow him to his room, watching the way he begins to loosen in the space. Regardless of the lack of personality, this place is his home. It’s where he feels most comfortable, most him. And he let you into it. He digs through a tattered dresser that has likely seen many homes, turning only to haphazardly chuck an old shirt at you. You barely catch it, letting out a huff of air at the impact. He follows it with a pair of shorts.

“You’re welcome to shower,” he says, tugging off his sopping suit jacket. He begins working on the buttons of his shirt next, and you almost let your jaw drop.

“I think I’m done with water for a few hours,” you say, cheeks growing warm. He’s halfway to his navel when you excuse yourself to the bathroom. You guess on which door it is and push into it, closing it behind you. You catch your breath.

You feel giddy. You can’t help the childish smile that creeps onto your lips.You change quickly, catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror.

You look frumpy, but very comfortable. You wonder what you’ll do next. Maybe he’ll just call you a cab and send you home. You pray to whoever is listening that that isn’t the case. With a heavy exhale, you leave the bathroom.

“Just leave your clothes in there,” Leon hollers from his bedroom. “I’ll deal with it tomorrow,”

You nod, following his voice. He’s clad in a sweatshirt that is a bit too big on him and a pair of sweatpants. He looks so human. You take a moment to look around the room. Where he didn’t have a television in his living room, he does have one in here. You think that’s odd. There’s a VHS player balanced precariously on top of a few books, wires running across the floor to connect to the television on a table. You wonder if this is where he spends most of his time. He leans over the VHS player, popping a tape into its mouth. Then, he settles into his bed.

You’re standing in the doorway, wearing his clothes, watching him get comfortable in his bed. You feel like some weird stalker or voyeur. It makes the tips of your ears burn.

“You can come sit, y’know,” Leon says, grinning at you. Something shifts in his gaze; he must see the turmoil on your face. “Or I can call you a cab,”

You shake your head, moving to join him. He leaves plenty of space between you–always the gentleman. You don’t recognize the movie playing on the screen, but you watch it anyway, focus so trained on it to prevent you from staring at Leon. The film drones on even though you’re not really paying attention. Leon shifts beside you, arm brushing against yours. You almost stop breathing. You feel silly for feeling this way; childish, weak, vulnerable. You wish you could be more nonchalant, more like your peers. But you don’t know how to be like that anymore. You only know quick action and timidness. You only know how to hide vulnerability for the sake of keeping people from asking if you know what you’re doing. You only know how to be closed off in the hopes that people won’t ask you how you are.

Because you know the answer. You know that if someone asks, you might unload on them. You might tell them how much you miss your family, how hard it is to dig through bodies and pull out their most valuable pieces. You might tell them how much you miss home, how much you regret taking a job in Raccoon City, how much you wish you’d stayed in school, how much you wish you could hold your nieces. 

As you think about it, you begin to cry. You’re not even sure why. It’s after a particularly unbecoming sniffle that Leon shifts his focus to you. You feel very embarrassed, trying in earnest to not let him see you cry.

“I’m sorry,” you say, wiping at your eyes with your wrinkled palms. “Sometimes I get lost in my brain, and it makes me cry,”

He shifts a bit closer to you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. His fingers move in circular motions, and you can’t deny how much calmer it makes you feel.

“Talk to me,” he says, almost whispering. You look him in the eye then, and you see the sincerity in his gaze. “I want to listen,”

You sniffle again. “I thought it was easier to be mean to me,”

“I don’t want easy,” he says. You gnaw on your lower lip. “I’m sorry I said that,”

“I don’t want easy, either,” you say. He grins at you then, full and wide, and bright enough to blind you. You wonder if this is the moment you’ve been waiting for. You wonder if he’s finally going to kiss you and get it over with.

“Can I be honest?” he asks. His voice is so soft, so calming, you wonder how you never noticed it before. You nod. “I thought, for a while at least, that if I was just rude enough to you, you would stop following me on missions. I thought that if you couldn’t stand to be around me, you wouldn’t, and you wouldn’t follow me into the jaws of death. Obviously, that didn’t work. That day that you stitched me up? It all hit me. I just…don’t know how to be the man you deserve yet,”

You smile, face warm and light, insides gooey and sticky. “I saw you as a challenge. I would continue to work with you out of spite,”

He rolls his eyes. “I know that now,”

“My turn for honesty,” you say, voice shaking a bit. “I was…in Raccoon City. When everything happened, I mean. I saw it first hand. It’s the reason I am where I am. I was training to be an EMT there, had some friends I’d been staying with. That’s why I get so…weird when I have to do my job. It’s why everything is so hard,”

He nods as he listens. “That must have been hard,” he says. You nod.

“It was devastating,” you say, breathless. “If I was shy before–which I was, mind you–I was a recluse after. It’s why I don’t go out, why I don’t like groups of people, why I have such a hard time being vulnerable,”

“I know what that’s like,” he says. You feel like your heart cracks open, beckoning him inside.

“You make me want to learn how,” you say, trying your hardest not to look away from him. “You make me want to learn how to be vulnerable, how to be open. I’ve told you things even Rebecca doesn’t know about me. I just…struggle with it sometimes,”

He’s silent as he watches you, and you worry that you’ve said the wrong thing. Maybe he just wants to be friends, have an extra shoulder around for when things get to be too much. Maybe you’ve read every situation, every interaction completely wrong. You don’t really know what you’re doing, after all. Maybe your naivety clouded your judgment.

It’s then that he does kiss you. It’s soft and pliant, warming you to your very core. Your hands shift to hold him better, fingers curling around the collar of his sweatshirt to pull him impossibly closer. You melt into him, letting him set little fires across every inch of skin he consumes. You want him to devour you whole. One of his hands finds the back of your head, tilting you ever so slightly to give him better access to you. You give it up without a second thought, a small gasp escaping you as your tongue meets his. In this moment, nothing else exists. The movie playing on the television is drowned out by your bliss, the deafening roar of blood in your ears settles to a beautiful hum. It feels like the crest of a wave splashing back down into the ocean, like a symphony crescendoing. You could die here, wrapped in his warmth and his kisses, and be happy.

When he pulls away, breathless and kiss swollen and reddened, you want to sink back into him. You find it cruel that he would pull away from you, leave you cold where you were so warm before.

“Keep being vulnerable with me,” he says, breath uneven and stuttering. “Please don’t ever stop,”

If he keeps looking at you like this and kissing you, he doesn’t have anything to worry about. You’re more than willing to be whatever he needs, reading to be molded like clay into his desires. You want it. You want him. Your heart flutters at the thought that he wants you too.

[pinkthick]

A Nocturne in Melody

Pairing: Vampire!Viktor x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 7,852 (about 28 minutes reading time)

Summary: Claire raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk playing on her lips. “Are you sure about that?” she asked, her tone almost pitying. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m sure he loves you. But love doesn’t change the fact that he’s… different now. Forever, actually.”

Notes: This doesn’t contain spoilers whatsoever—so don’t worry. I’m a bit nervous about how this turned out, but hopefully you guys will like it.

Warnings: None(?)

Masterlist: A Nocturne in Melody

Part 2

The apartment was quiet, save for the warm, low notes of your violin filling the space, dancing through the air in practiced strokes. It was the only thing that made you feel somewhat like yourself these days, bringing back some sense of comfort and control. You’d been trying to immerse yourself in the familiar rhythms and melodies, hoping the music would soothe away the dull ache in your leg and the nagging frustration that had settled into your bones since the accident.

You’d avoided the cane again today, though you knew it wasn’t doing you any favors. You could feel the pain creeping up as you stood there, pressing down with each note, reminding you of the limitations you couldn’t outrun. Yet, in these moments, you felt a glimmer of your old self, and you clung to it as fiercely as you could.

You were so caught up in the music, in the small relief it brought, that you didn’t notice Viktor’s presence until he was right behind you, his hands slipping gently around your waist, pulling you close.

“Hi, beautiful.”

Your heart skipped a beat, the violin bow slipping as you nearly lost your grip on the instrument. “Viktor, you scared the shit out of me!” You let out a breath, feeling the tension unravel as he chuckled softly, his voice warm and low.

“Sorry,” he murmured, though the smile in his voice told you he’d been amused by your reaction. He pulled you a bit closer, pressing his lips to the top of your head. “You were so focused.”

You leaned into his embrace, the weight of his arms around you grounding you. It was moments like these that you held onto, reminders that, despite everything, you still had each other. Viktor, with his steady hold, had become your anchor in ways you hadn’t imagined, and you could feel him clinging to you just as tightly.

The past few months had been a struggle, for both of you. After three long months of confinement, Viktor had finally been released from the containment facility. But it hadn’t been easy—he’d battled the cravings, his new instincts, fought to keep control, and every time you’d visited, you’d seen the toll it was taking on him. He hadn’t been the same; the familiar warm amber of his eyes replaced with a striking, unsettling red, his fangs just barely hidden behind his lips.

That first visit, he’d barely looked you in the eye, his hand covering his mouth every time he tried to smile, as if ashamed of the transformation. It had broken your heart, seeing the man you loved reduced to a shadow of himself, fighting so hard to maintain his humanity. And yet, through it all, he’d somehow managed to hold on. When he’d finally been released, he’d come home to you—a different man, perhaps, but still Viktor.

You’d felt the change, though. He was quieter, his shyness around you more pronounced than before, as if afraid of what you might think of him now. You knew the feeling too well—the weight of insecurity and unfamiliarity, the strain of adapting to a body and life that felt like someone else’s. He’d throw himself into his work at the lab, the way he always had, finding solace in his research, but you saw the tiredness in his eyes, the way he avoided smiling too widely or looking at his own reflection.

Yet, in his own way, he had grown stronger. The sickness that had plagued him for so long was gone, replaced with a physical resilience he’d never had before. He was healthier, able to stand for hours without feeling drained, able to keep up with the demands of the lab. But that strength had come at a price, and the reminder was always there—the enforcers stationed outside your apartment, the watchful eyes that followed him everywhere he went. Even at the lab, he was under constant surveillance, their eyes a constant reminder that he was no longer fully trusted.

And then there was you. The pain in your leg was a relentless, unwelcome companion, one that left you frustrated, refusing to rely on the cane you knew you needed. You missed the freedom of movement, the confidence you once had. Every step reminded you of the limitations, and you could feel the anger simmering just beneath the surface, anger at the vampire who’d done this, at the world, even, sometimes, at Viktor for reminding you of what you’d lost.

But when you looked into Viktor’s eyes, when you felt his arms around you, that anger faded, replaced by a fierce determination to be there for him, just as he was for you. You both needed each other, more than ever.

As you leaned back against his chest, Viktor’s arms tightened around you, his chin resting on your shoulder. He was silent for a moment, just holding you, and you could feel the subtle tension in his body, as if he had something on his mind.

“There’s a… party this weekend,” he said finally, his voice hesitant. “One of the council members is hosting it. They want me to be there, but I… I won’t go if you’re not coming.”

You took a deep breath, biting your lip as you weighed his words. The idea of a crowded event, of being surrounded by people, the inevitable questions, the looks—none of it appealed to you. And yet, you knew how much this meant to him, how much he needed your support. It was his first real public appearance since the transformation, and though he’d never say it, you could tell he was nervous.

“Do you… want to go?” you asked, turning slightly to look up at him, your gaze meeting his.

He hesitated, his red eyes flickering with something vulnerable. “Only if you’re with me,” he said softly. “I can handle the stares, the questions… but I don’t want to do it alone. Not without you.”

You reached up, brushing a hand along his cheek, feeling the familiar warmth beneath your fingertips. His hand came up to cover yours, holding it gently, as if afraid you might pull away. The subtle red in his eyes, the faint glint of his fangs as he spoke—these were all reminders of the change, but they didn’t scare you. They were part of him now, just as much as the man you’d fallen in love with.

After a long moment, you nodded. “I’ll go with you,” you said quietly, your voice steady. “If you want to be there, I’ll be there with you.”

The relief in his expression was palpable, his grip on your hand tightening as he pulled you even closer. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his voice barely a whisper as he spoke.

“Thank you,” he murmured. “For staying… for being here. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You leaned into his embrace, letting the warmth of his words wash over you. Despite everything, despite the pain and the challenges, you knew that this was where you both belonged—together, finding strength in each other, one day at a time.

—

The lab was alive with the familiar hum of machinery, the faint scent of metal and ozone filling the air as Viktor and Jayce huddled over a collection of blueprints and prototypes spread across the table. The hextech core, their shared obsession and the key to their work, glowed faintly between them, casting a cool, ethereal light over their faces.

Jayce tapped a finger against one of the blueprints, his brow furrowing as he studied the design. “You can’t possibly think that would work,” he said, casting a skeptical look in Viktor’s direction.

Viktor, unperturbed, adjusted his goggles and tilted his head, studying the hextech core with a keen, almost reverent gaze. “I’m saying it’s worth a try, Jayce. We’ve exhausted the more conventional approaches. Maybe a… less traditional method will yield something.”

Jayce crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. “Less traditional, huh? Like throwing caution to the wind and just seeing what sticks?”

Viktor gave a slight, amused smile. “Something like that.”

Jayce rolled his eyes but leaned forward, studying the core more closely. “All right, fine. But combining it with some other element? We’re not just talking about amplifying power here, Viktor. We’re talking about potentially unstable results, especially if it reacts poorly.”

“Precisely,” Viktor murmured, his mind racing as he turned the core over in his hands. “But if we could stabilize it… think about the applications. Energy that could revolutionize everyday life, a source of power that could improve accessibility for all kinds of people. More efficient, more durable. Something truly transformative.”

Jayce’s skepticism softened a little, his gaze shifting from the core to Viktor. “You really think this could be it, don’t you? The next step in hextech?”

Viktor nodded, his eyes gleaming with a quiet intensity. “Imagine a hextech device that could adapt to its user, that could help those who struggle with mobility, sight, or strength. It wouldn’t just be a tool; it would be a part of them. Empowering, not controlling.”

Jayce’s gaze dropped back to the core, the seed of interest clearly taking root. “That does sound… incredible,” he admitted, though there was still a hint of doubt in his voice. “But to get there, we’d need a material strong enough to withstand the energy fluctuations while still being flexible.”

Viktor nodded thoughtfully, his mind already racing through possible solutions. “True. We’d need something that can handle extreme stress without compromising the user’s safety or mobility.” He paused, his brow furrowing in thought. “Perhaps… something organic? Or partially organic. The problem with pure metal is that it limits flexibility and precision.”

“Partially organic?” Jayce echoed, blinking in surprise. “Are you suggesting a hybrid material?”

Viktor shrugged, his fingers tracing patterns in the dust on the table as he spoke, his mind a whirlwind of ideas. “It’s not entirely unheard of. The human body is essentially a collection of organic materials working together with remarkable efficiency. Why not replicate that balance in our design?”

Jayce snorted, but there was a glint of excitement in his eyes. “So now you want to build a synthetic organism, too?”

“Not a full organism,” Viktor replied, a touch of exasperation in his voice. “But a material that can mimic the body’s adaptability and resilience. Something that can respond to the user’s needs in real time.”

Jayce leaned back, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “But even if we could figure out the material, there’s still the issue of integrating it with the hextech core itself. Combining two different energy sources could be volatile.”

Viktor smiled faintly, the spark of an idea beginning to take shape. “What if we used the hextech as a kind of catalyst? Not the primary power source, but something that enhances the natural energy within the material.”

Jayce’s brow furrowed, his mind turning over the possibilities. “So the hextech would amplify the organic properties, like a booster?”

Viktor nodded, his excitement building as he spoke. “Exactly. It would be less invasive, more in tune with the body’s natural rhythms. Think about what that could mean for prosthetics, for example. Devices that respond as seamlessly as a real limb, that adapt and strengthen over time. It could be life-changing.

Jayce was silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on the hextech core as he processed the idea. “All right, so let’s say we somehow manage to stabilize this… hybrid material. How do we test it?”

Viktor’s expression turned serious, the weight of the challenge settling over him. “We’d need to find a way to monitor the energy flow, to ensure that the hextech doesn’t overwhelm the organic component. But if we can do that…” he replied, his voice quiet.

He let the words hang in the air, the possibilities stretching out before them, vast and uncharted. Jayce nodded slowly, clearly intrigued by the potential of Viktor’s vision.

“This is ambitious—and dangerous,” Jayce admitted, glancing over at Viktor with a mixture of admiration and caution. “But then, you’ve always been ambitious.”

Viktor gave a small, self-deprecating smile. “Ambition isn’t always a bad thing, is it?”

Jayce laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “Not when it comes from the right place. And I think you’re onto something here. But we’re going to need a lot of resources to make this work—materials, prototypes, testing… We’re talking months, maybe years of development.”

Viktor nodded, unperturbed by the daunting timeline. “I’m willing to put in the work. We both are, aren’t we?”

Jayce grinned, a hint of the old, infectious enthusiasm returning to his eyes. “Hell yeah, we are. Besides, who else would I want as a partner on something this crazy?”

They shared a rare, genuine smile, the camaraderie between them rekindled by the shared sense of purpose. For all their differences, for all the disagreements and setbacks, this was why they worked together—this shared vision, this drive to create something that could change the world for the better.

Jayce leaned back, a thoughtful expression on his face as he considered their next steps. “So, where do we start? We’re going to need a lot more data on organic materials. Something durable but responsive.”

Viktor nodded, already flipping through the stack of papers and sketches scattered across the table. “There’s some research on flexible bio-metals in the archives. And I know of a few labs that have been experimenting with synthetic nerve tissues. If we can combine their properties with the hextech…”

Jayce’s eyes lit up, a wide grin spreading across his face. “Then we just might have a shot.”

They worked in companionable silence for a while, each lost in their thoughts as they sifted through data, sketches, and formulas. Every now and then, Viktor would jot down a note or make a quick calculation, his mind racing with possibilities. Jayce watched him, a sense of admiration growing as he saw the focus and determination in Viktor’s gaze.

After a while, Jayce broke the silence, his voice soft but thoughtful. “You know, Viktor… you’re not just doing this for the science, are you?”

Viktor glanced up, surprised by the question. “What do you mean?”

Jayce shrugged, a knowing look in his eyes. “You talk about improving lives, helping people, creating something that could change the world. But I think… I think there’s more to it than that for you.”

Viktor was silent for a moment, his gaze dropping back to the hextech core in his hands. “Perhaps,” he admitted quietly. “I suppose… I know what it’s like to feel limited, to have a body that doesn’t do what you need it to. If I can create something that eases that struggle, that gives people back a sense of freedom… then maybe it’s worth it.”

Jayce nodded, a look of respect in his eyes. “I get it. And honestly? I’m with you on this, Viktor. Let’s see how far we can push this thing. Together.”

Viktor met Jayce’s gaze, a flicker of gratitude passing over his face. He wasn’t one to show emotions easily, but in that moment, he felt a surge of appreciation for his friend, for the support and trust that had sustained their partnership through countless challenges.

“Thank you, Jayce,” he said quietly. “For believing in this.”

Jayce grinned, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Oh, don’t thank me yet. We still have to make it work.”

—

The practice room buzzed with the usual chatter and hustle as you finished your session with the crew, the notes of your violin still lingering in the air as you put it down. The familiar routine of rehearsals and the comfort of music always helped ease your mind, giving you a momentary escape from the worries that had been creeping in lately. You were glad you’d come; it felt good to play, to be part of something steady, a rhythm that didn’t ask too much of you, didn’t remind you of the things you’d lost or the new insecurities you were fighting.

The rehearsal wrapped up, and you packed up your violin, the room gradually emptying as everyone trickled out. You’d just slung the violin case over your shoulder when a familiar voice made you turn.

“I heard you were coming to the Kiramman’s party.”

Claire stood there, arms crossed, her gaze sharp and assessing as it lingered on you. She hadn’t exactly been the friendliest toward you, and her appearance here now felt deliberate, her words carrying a weight that hinted at more than just small talk.

You nodded, choosing your words carefully. “Yes, I am.”

“Oh, are you…?” She paused, her lips curving into a knowing smile that made you instantly wary. “You’re coming with Viktor?”

“Yes,” you replied, keeping your tone neutral, though you could feel your pulse quickening, a hint of irritation creeping in at her tone. “Why?”

She tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable. “Oh, I thought he’d pick someone from his… league by now.”

The words hit you like a slap, cold and unexpected. You blinked, taken aback, but you quickly tried to brush it off, refusing to give her the reaction she was clearly hoping for. “I’m sorry?”

She shrugged, as if the comment had been nothing more than an idle observation, her gaze still fixed on you with that same sharpness. “Oh, so you’re still together then,” she said, her voice laced with a mock sympathy that only fueled the knot of tension in your chest. “Pity.”

The implication was clear, each word sinking in like a tiny, well-placed barb. You could feel the anger bubbling up, the instinct to defend yourself and Viktor against her assumptions, but you bit your tongue, forcing yourself to stay calm.

“Why would it be a pity?” you managed, your voice colder than you’d intended.

Claire gave you a long, appraising look, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in your reaction. “Well, I just thought…” She hesitated, feigning innocence, though you could see the satisfaction flickering in her gaze. “I thought he might want to be with someone who understands him a little better now, that’s all. Someone who… lives forever. You know?”

You swallowed, her words sinking deeper, twisting in ways that left a dull ache in your chest. Part of you wanted to brush her off, to shrug it off as nothing more than petty jealousy, but her words hit a nerve, stirring up insecurities you’d been trying to keep buried.

“You don’t know Viktor,” you said quietly, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice. “We’re together because we care about each other, not because of what we are.”

Claire raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk playing on her lips. “Are you sure about that?” she asked, her tone almost pitying. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m sure he loves you. But love doesn’t change the fact that he’s… different now. Forever, actually.”

She paused, letting the weight of her words settle in, watching you carefully, as if gauging how much of her message was getting through.

“Maybe he’s not thinking about it now,” she continued, her voice softening slightly, as if she were offering advice rather than criticism. “But one day, he will. One day, he’ll realize that he doesn’t have to limit himself to… well, to the human experience anymore.”

Her gaze flicked pointedly to your leg, lingering just long enough to drive the point home.

The implication stung, dredging up the insecurities you’d tried so hard to bury since Viktor’s transformation. You’d been fighting to keep those fears at bay, to trust that your relationship was strong enough to withstand the changes, but Claire’s words struck at the heart of your doubts, leaving you feeling raw and exposed.

“I’m not… holding him back,” you said, though the words felt weak, uncertain, even to your own ears.

Claire shrugged again, her expression almost pitying. “Maybe you’re not now. But one day, he’ll want more. And you’ll have to decide whether you’re willing to let him have it.”

The weight of her words hung heavy in the air, settling in your mind with a finality that left you feeling hollow. You tried to shake it off, to remind yourself that Claire didn’t know Viktor, that she couldn’t possibly understand what you shared, but the doubts had already taken root, lingering in the back of your mind like a slow, insidious poison.

Without another word, Claire turned and walked away, leaving you alone with the echo of her words, her parting glance a final, silent jab that left you reeling.

—

The soft glow of the evening settled over your apartment as you slipped on your dress, adjusting the fabric and inspecting your reflection in the mirror. Tonight was important for Viktor — it was more than a social event; it was a milestone. Since his release from the facility, he hadn’t attended anything quite so grand or public, and you could tell it weighed on him.

As you adjusted the delicate straps of your dress, you caught Viktor’s reflection standing behind you, pulling his sleeves into place and carefully fastening each button. He was dressed sharply, his hair smoothed down and his posture straighter than usual. Yet his gaze was distant, a flicker of nerves clouding his eyes as he adjusted his collar for the fourth time.

Turning to face him, you took a step closer and rested a hand on his shoulder, watching him tense and then relax under your touch. “You know, it’s not going to be that bad, right?” you said softly, your voice laced with encouragement.

Viktor glanced at you, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he tried to shrug it off. “Yes, yes — just nervous.”

But his answer didn’t fool you; you could sense there was more to his unease than simple nerves. He looked at you, his gaze lingering, and something in his expression made your heart skip. Before you could ask him about it, he closed the distance between you, his hand cupping your cheek as he leaned in. The kiss was gentle at first, then deeper, more insistent, as if he were pouring a quiet desperation into it.

You felt a flutter in your chest, the heat of his touch surprising you but drawing you in all the same. Your hands slipped around his waist, pulling him closer, and for a moment, everything else faded away. Viktor’s hand trailed to the back of your neck, his fingers threading through your hair as he deepened the kiss, a quiet intensity building between you.

After a moment, he pulled back slightly, his breath warm against your skin. He held your gaze, his eyes shadowed with something you couldn’t quite place. He reached up, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his touch lingering as if he didn’t want to let go.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” you asked softly, your voice laced with concern.

Viktor hesitated, his eyes searching yours before he managed a faint smile. “I am,” he murmured, but his hand tightened ever so slightly on your waist, as if anchoring himself. “I just… I don’t want to make a fool of myself tonight.”

You chuckled, the warmth in his gaze making your heart swell. “You could never make a fool of yourself,” you assured him, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “You’re going to be amazing, Viktor. Everyone will see what I see.”

His eyes softened, his fingers grazing along your cheek with a tenderness that made your breath catch. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, as if he were speaking a truth too fragile to say aloud.

He kissed you again, slower this time, his lips lingering as if he were savoring the moment. His hands slid down to your waist, pulling you closer, and you could feel his heart pounding in time with yours. The world outside seemed to fade, leaving just the two of you, wrapped in the quiet warmth of each other’s presence.

After a moment, he pulled back, his hand still resting on your waist as he gazed at you with a mix of admiration and something deeper, something that tugged at the edges of your heart. “I… I don’t say it often,” he began, his voice faltering slightly, “but I don’t know where I’d be without you.”

You felt a warmth spread through you, a quiet happiness that came from knowing just how much you meant to him. Smiling, you placed a hand over his, squeezing gently. “And I don’t know where I’d be without you,” you replied, your voice soft. “We’ve always been together, haven’t we?”

He nodded, a hint of relief easing the tension in his expression. “Yes… always.”

—

The atmosphere at the Kiramman party was electric. The warm lights cast a glow over the grand hall, and the murmur of laughter and conversation filled the space as you stood with Viktor, Jayce, Mel, and Caitlyn. Even with the initial excitement, your leg was already protesting the long hours of standing. You’d brought your cane along but tried to lean against it subtly, hoping to mask the pain that was slowly creeping in.

Caitlyn, ever perceptive, gave you a look, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Are you doing okay?” she asked, voice low enough so only you could hear.

You gave a reassuring nod, managing a small smile. “I’m fine, thanks,” you replied, though the ache in your leg said otherwise.

Viktor, however, was harder to read tonight. He was unusually fidgety, his fingers tapping against his glass, eyes darting to Jayce every now and then. When he noticed you watching him, he looked down quickly, almost as if he’d been caught. Jayce raised a brow at Viktor with a knowing smirk, but didn’t say anything, making the whole interaction feel even stranger.

Amid the lively discussions about hextech and advancements in Piltover, Viktor suddenly leaned close, his voice a touch uncertain. “Do you want something from the bar?”

The question caught you off guard, but you welcomed the distraction. “Uh—I could use a hugo.”

Without another word, Viktor nodded and hurried off towards the bar, his shoulders tense, leaving you with the others. Jayce, who had been watching Viktor with a mixture of amusement and sympathy, turned to you with a small grin, his eyebrows raised.

“What?” you asked, puzzled, but he just shook his head, his smile saying more than words could.

Jayce’s smirk lingered a moment longer, and you couldn’t help but wonder what was going on with Viktor tonight. He had seemed on edge, more so than usual, and while you wanted to brush it off as pre-party nerves, something about his behavior felt different. And then there were those subtle glances he kept exchanging with Jayce. It was as if Viktor was working up to something, or maybe he just needed a moment to take the edge off.

Meanwhile, across the room, Viktor was at the bar, his shoulders visibly easing as he downed a quick shot of vodka, then another, clearly hoping to settle his nerves. He never drinked like this. The burn must have helped because he took a deep breath, visibly relaxing as the bartender set about mixing your drink.

Just then, Esma, one of Viktor’s colleagues from the lab, approached him with a smile. Her striking red dress and piercing gaze gave her an air of elegance that immediately drew attention. “Viktor,” she greeted warmly, “we haven’t caught up in a while.”

“Oh—Esma,” Viktor replied, his voice light as he turned to her, but his usual guardedness softened under the influence of the alcohol. “It’s been… busy.”

“Yes, I’ve noticed,” she replied with a coy smile, leaning in slightly. “You’ve been making quite the impression these days. Working on any new projects?”

“Well,” he started, glancing down at his empty shot glass before looking back at her, “it’s still early stages, but yes, Jayce and I have… something in the works.” He gestured for another shot, downing it before he could think twice, and you could tell from across the room that his inhibitions were starting to lower.

Esma’s smile lingered as she watched him, her gaze lingering a beat too long. “I’m sure it’s something remarkable. You’ve always had that drive. It’s rare, you know.” Her tone held a warmth that was almost… flirtatious.

A pang of something bitter twisted in your chest as you watched them. It wasn’t like you to feel this way, yet Claire’s words had been gnawing at you for days now, tainting your thoughts in ways you hadn’t anticipated. Maybe she had a point, you thought reluctantly. Viktor’s new status, his abilities, his longevity — it felt like a widening chasm between you two, one that was hard to ignore. You hated feeling this insecure, but it was as if her words had planted a seed that was growing despite your efforts to stamp it out.

You tried to shake it off, but the hurt in your chest only grew. You needed air, a moment to clear your head. Without another word to the others, you quietly slipped away, making your way to the open balcony where the cool evening air brushed against your skin, a welcome relief from the crowded hall. The night sky stretched out before you, the stars scattered like tiny diamonds against the deep blue canvas. It was beautiful, yet you felt strangely hollow, a sense of unease settling in your stomach.

It wasn’t long before the faint sound of footsteps reached you, and you turned to see Viktor standing in the doorway, a glass in his hand. He hesitated, a hint of concern flickering in his eyes. “You… left,” he said softly, stepping closer and holding out the drink.

You took it with a small smile, though the weight of your thoughts still lingered. “Just needed some fresh air,” you replied, taking a sip and feeling the refreshing taste of the hugo wash over you before setting it down on a table.

Viktor stood beside you, his gaze following yours as he looked out at the cityscape. There was a silence between you, not uncomfortable but heavy with words unspoken. After a moment, he finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Are you… alright?” His hand moved to rest on the balcony railing, fingers brushing close to yours.

You took a breath, considering his question. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just—thinking.”

His brow furrowed, his eyes searching yours. “About?”

You hesitated, unsure if you should share what was truly on your mind. But the vulnerability in his gaze, the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the world, made it hard to hold back. “It’s… probably nothing,” you began, your voice faltering slightly. “I just… I’ve been thinking about us, about… everything.”

Viktor’s grip tightened on the railing, and you noticed the subtle tension in his posture. “You don’t have to worry,” he murmured, his voice low. “You mean everything to me. I know things have… changed, but that hasn’t.”

You felt a warmth spread through you, a reassurance that eased the ache in your chest. He reached for your hand, his fingers cool against yours, and held it tightly, as if grounding himself in the connection between you.

Before you could respond, though, you heard Jayce calling from behind, his voice laced with good-natured exasperation. “There you two are! Come on, they’re about to start the toast. You’re both missing out.”

Viktor shot you a small smile, his fingers lingering on yours as if reluctant to let go.

“Shall we?”

You nodded but you were still looking out over the city with an expression Viktor couldn’t read. He took a few steps forward, reaching out tentatively before stopping, something uncertain flickering in his eyes.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, his voice a low murmur, his gaze searching yours.

You forced a smile, nodding. “Yeah,” you replied, though the word felt heavy on your tongue, the weight of what you’d been feeling all evening pressing harder against your chest.

Viktor’s lips quirked up, his eyes softening. He leaned in, closing the small distance between you, but when he went to press a quick kiss to your lips, you instinctively pulled back. The hurt in his eyes was immediate, and he chuckled nervously, trying to hide his disappointment.

“You say that you’re okay,” he murmured, his voice slightly strained, “but then you do… this.”

For a moment, you just looked at him, taking in every detail: the crimson hue of his irises, the gleam of his fangs when he spoke, his posture straighter, stronger. He looked so different, yet so unmistakably him. It was everything he had always wanted — strength, vitality, a body that didn’t betray him at every step. And while you wanted to feel only pride and joy for him, you couldn’t deny the other emotions that simmered beneath the surface.

You wanted him to be happy, to have this life that had been stolen from him for so long. But when you looked at him now, the gap between you felt insurmountable. He was practically immortal, untouched by the limits you were now feeling so acutely in yourself.

“Viktor…” you began, voice catching as you struggled to find the words.

His brows knit together, a flash of fear passing over his face. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper. He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to touch your arm, but you didn’t meet his gaze, afraid he’d see everything you were feeling.

“I love you so much,” you finally said, your voice breaking. “So much it hurts, Viktor. But… maybe you’d be better off without me.”

His hand froze mid-air, and for a second, he looked as if you’d struck him. He blinked, his mouth opening slightly before he closed it, his expression tight. “You’re… not serious,” he whispered, the words barely escaping him as he searched your face, looking for any hint that you were joking.

But you held his gaze, your silence an answer in itself.

“You’re not thinking clearly,” he said, his voice growing more desperate, his hands reaching for yours, his grip firm but gentle. “You’re tired, you’re… frustrated. But that’s all it is.”

You let out a trembling breath, glancing down at your intertwined hands, his touch grounding you even as your heart ached. “Viktor, this isn’t… I’m not just tired,” you said, your voice shaking. “It’s that— I will die one day, Viktor. And it’s not fair to you. You deserve someone who can be with you forever.”

“And it was fair to you?” he shot back, his tone sharper than you’d ever heard it. “When I was dying, when we first got into the relationship, you knew that I would die, probably within a few years. And yet you stayed. You knew I couldn’t give you a future, you still…” His voice cracked, and he looked down, his hand slipping from yours as he pressed it against his forehead, closing his eyes as if he couldn’t bear to look at you.

“It was different,” you whispered, swallowing hard. The words sounded hollow even to your own ears.

He let out a bitter laugh, one that was full of hurt and frustration. “Different?” he repeated, his voice shaking. “How was it different? Tell me, please, because I am struggling to understand.”

You opened your mouth to answer, but the words wouldn’t come. In truth, you weren’t sure how to explain it. When you’d first got into a relationship with him, he’d been so frail, so full of life and ambition despite his limitations. You’d fallen in love with him knowing his time was limited, that every day with him was a gift you could lose at any moment. And now… he was the one who would live on, untouched by age or illness, while you were bound by the inevitabilities of your human existence.

“It’s because… you have forever now, Viktor,” you managed, your voice barely a whisper. “You have this chance, this life ahead of you. I don’t want to hold you back from that.”

Viktor’s gaze softened, the anger fading as he stepped closer, his hands finding your shoulders, his grip firm as he forced you to look at him. “You were never— you could never hold me back,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you. Don’t you see that? You’ve been with me through everything — you are my future. None of this means anything if I don’t have you by my side.”

His words cut through your resolve, and you felt a surge of tears well up, your chest tightening as you looked at him, his red eyes glistening with a desperation you’d never seen before. He was breaking, and it shattered you to see him like this, so vulnerable, so raw.

“I thought…” you began, your voice choked as you struggled to find the right words. “I thought maybe… you’d be better off with someone… someone like you.”

A flicker of pain crossed his face, and he looked down, his fingers tightening on your shoulders. “So that’s what this is about,” he murmured, a trace of bitterness in his tone. “You think I want… that I’d prefer someone else?”

You shook your head, feeling the tears slip down your cheeks. “It’s just — it’s hard,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “I see you now, and you’re everything you’ve always wanted to be. And I want to be happy for you, but I can’t help but feel like… like you deserve more.”

He let out a shaky breath, his own eyes glistening as he looked at you, his hand moving to cup your cheek. “You’re right,” he said quietly. “I am everything I wanted to be. Stronger, healthier… but without you, none of it means anything. I never… I never wanted immortality. I wanted a life with you, even if it was short. That was enough for me.” His voice broke, and you saw the first tear slip down his cheek, his hand trembling against your skin. “Please… don’t take that away from me,” he whispered, his gaze pleading as he held you, as if he were afraid you’d slip through his fingers.

You couldn’t hold back the sob that escaped you, your heart breaking as you reached up, covering his hand with yours, leaning into his touch. “Viktor… I don’t want to lose you,” you admitted, your voice thick with emotion. “But I’m so afraid. Afraid that one day, I’ll be gone, and you’ll… you’ll regret staying with me.”

He shook his head, his gaze fierce as he pressed his forehead against yours, his breaths shaky as he clung to you. “I would never regret loving you,” he whispered, his voice full of conviction. “No matter what happens, no matter how much time we have… I want to spend it with you. Don’t you understand? You’re the only one I want.”

You felt the weight of his words settle over you, and for a moment, the fear and doubt melted away, replaced by the warmth of his love, his unwavering devotion. He loved you, more deeply than you’d ever thought possible, and in that moment, you realized that maybe… maybe that was enough.

With a trembling breath, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close, feeling his heartbeat against yours. “I love you, Viktor,” you whispered, the words spilling from your lips like a confession. “I don’t want to leave you..but—“

He let out a shuddering sigh, his arms tightening around you as if he could hold you there forever. “Then stay,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “Please… stay.”

You drew in a shaky breath, feeling as if the words that had settled like stones in your throat would shatter everything around you. “I really don’t want you to regret us,” you whispered, struggling to keep your voice steady. Viktor’s eyes softened, and without hesitation, he cupped your face with both hands, gently but firmly guiding you to meet his gaze. His thumbs brushed over your cheeks, wiping away the tears that had already started to fall.

“How could I even—love, listen to me once and for all,” he murmured, his voice steady yet filled with such raw tenderness it made your heart ache. His eyes, normally so focused and intense, were now wide open, inviting you to see every inch of his soul. “I could never regret us. You are… everything.”

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The silence was filled only by the faint sounds of the party and the soft, steady rhythm of his breathing. As you looked into his eyes, you realized that his feelings for you had never changed, even though so much about him had. There was a truth there, in the depths of his red eyes, that transcended everything else — that his love for you was still, and would always be, unwavering.

But before you could even find the words to respond, Viktor took a small step back, his hands falling from your face as he reached into his coat pocket. And then he pulled out a small velvet box.

The air left your lungs in an instant. You stared at it, unable to process what you were seeing as he held the box in his palm, looking down at it with a strange mixture of determination and vulnerability.

“I’d planned this for… well, longer than I’d like to admit,” he said, his voice laced with a soft, almost shy chuckle as he opened the box, revealing a delicate, glistening ring inside. “I wanted tonight to be perfect. I thought about it so many times, wondering how I would ask you. But all I knew was that I couldn’t… I didn’t want to wait any longer.”

The realization washed over you, sudden and powerful. He’d been planning to propose. He’d come here tonight with the hope of a promise, of solidifying the life you’d built together, and in return, you’d nearly torn it all apart.

A strangled laugh escaped you, and you felt a fresh wave of tears spring to your eyes as you stared at the ring. It was beautiful, simple yet elegant, and it seemed to sparkle with the same quiet strength you’d always seen in him. The mix of emotions overwhelmed you — laughter and tears blending into something that felt too big for words as you buried your face in his chest, gripping his shirt with trembling hands.

“I’m… I’m such an idiot,” you managed between sobs and laughter, your voice muffled against him. “You wanted to… you were going to propose, and I… I nearly ruined it. Viktor, I…” He held you tightly, one hand resting on the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair as he let you ride out the storm of emotions. “No, no,” he murmured soothingly, his voice a soft balm against the rawness of your guilt and regret. “You didn’t ruin anything. I understand, love. I understand more than you know.”

You looked up at him, your eyes still brimming with tears, but his expression was filled with nothing but warmth and understanding. He took your hands, guiding them up to his chest, pressing them over his heart so you could feel the steady, reassuring beat.

“I know you’re afraid,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “And… I know I’m asking for a lot. For you to share your life with someone who will outlive everyone else around him, who’s been changed in ways neither of us fully understand. But please, please believe me when I say that none of that matters. What matters is you, and everything we’ve built together. I would never regret us. Ever.”

You felt another tear slip down your cheek as you reached up, brushing your fingers along the edge of his face. He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes briefly, as if savoring the warmth of your skin against his. And in that moment, you felt a surge of clarity, a sudden certainty that cut through the lingering doubts and fears.

“I want that too,” you whispered, your voice steadying as the weight of your decision settled over you. “I want… all of it. With you.”

Viktor’s eyes opened, his gaze locking onto yours, and you saw the flicker of relief and joy that passed over his face. He lifted the ring from the box, holding it delicately between his fingers as he looked at you with a question in his eyes, a silent plea for confirmation. “Then—Will you marry me?” he asked softly, his voice almost trembling as he held his breath, waiting for your answer.

You nodded, a smile breaking through the lingering tears. “Yes. God—yes. Viktor, I want to be with you. For as long as we have.”

He let out a shaky breath, a relieved, disbelieving laugh escaping him as he slipped the ring onto your finger. His hands were trembling, and you could feel the way he was fighting to hold back his own emotions as he gazed at the ring, his thumb brushing over it gently once it was in place.

When he looked back up at you, his eyes were glistening, the raw vulnerability in them something he’d only ever shown to you. He cupped your face again, his fingers gentle as he wiped away the last remnants of your tears. “I love you,” he whispered, the words soft and reverent, as if he were speaking a sacred truth. “More than anything in this world.”

Before you could respond, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was gentle, yet filled with a depth of emotion that took your breath away. You melted into him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pressed yourself closer, letting the warmth of his embrace wash over you, grounding you in the certainty of his love.

The kiss deepened, and for a few precious moments, there was nothing else — no doubts, no fears, just the quiet, unshakable truth of your love for each other. When you finally pulled back, your breaths mingling as you leaned your forehead against his, you felt a sense of peace settle over you, as if all the pieces had finally fallen into place.

“Thank you,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

He smiled, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your cheek. “There’s no need to thank me,” he replied softly. “Just… be here with me. That’s all I’ll ever need.”

You held his gaze, feeling the weight of his words settle over you, and you knew, without a doubt, that this was where you were meant to be.

A/N: I still haven’t finished part 3, but part 4 is done lmao😭, since it’s just smut and maybe I’ll post it?? (I don’t know if I should or not lmao)

[kurishiri]

02┊Dark If —Alfons Sylvatica—

꒰ ִ ֺ ⊹ @ notice ⊹ ֺ ִ ꒱ this translation may not be 100% accurate or contain creative liberties due to characterization or narrative flow purposes. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but don’t repost these or claim these as your own!

— cw: implied dub-con, implied alcohol consumption, invasion of personal space.

(I-I-I...I...)

Alfons the Mirror: You’re rather quick to wake up, aren’t you. Well? Were you able to have a good dream last night?

(Why did I do such a thing... it was like Alfons was my lover...)

(Wait, like one...?)

Kate: Y-you did something to me, didn’t you?

Alfons the Mirror: Why indeed I did. We did a greaaat many things under consent.

A: That said, though, you ended up falling asleep, so we didn’t go all the way.

Kate: That’s not the point...!

Alfons the Mirror: Were you aware of my ability then? Because, yes, I did use it.

A: I am a mirror that reflects wishes and desires. I simply did what you wished for.

Kate: Wh—why would I ever wish for something so dirty...

Alfons the Mirror: Well I’ll be... is that really so?

Though I was intoxicated, I could still remember how I ended up wanting to lean into Alfons’ warmth.

Kate: Y-you’re the utter worst!

Alfons the Mirror: Aha, I do take a fancy to that reaction of yours. I prefer this loads over how you resembled a lost child last night.

Kate: Well, I won’t be seeking any more help from you.

Alfons the Mirror: Well then, how about I make a prediction? You will come to see me... I’m more than sure.

I straightened out my disheveled clothes and stood up as Alfons said while sprawled on the bed...

Alfons the Mirror: Ah, and...

(...?)

Alfons the Mirror: The first cocktail you drank last night is applejack. Despite all appearances, it’s quite some strong liquor.

A: A poisoned apple may not necessarily take the form of an apple itself. Do be careful from now on.

Perhaps out of frustration, or something else entirely, my cheeks grew hot.

Kate: Thanks for the warning! And you take care of that liver of yours too, mister Alfons the Mirror!

Alfons the Mirror: ......... (O_O)

A: ...pfft, ahahaha!

Leaving that shameless parting remark, I burst out of that shady room.

(That guy’s the worst of the worst, I swear to god——!!)

Pub master: Look at you, lady-killer. Did you have a fun time yet again? I’m almost envious.

Alfons the Mirror: Too much fun, in fact. Though she ran away like a cat would in the end.

??? (Harry): ...Hey, don’t go teasing her too much.

Alfons the Mirror: ...?

Sitting in the corner of the pub was a man, and that was all he said before disappearing into the darkness.

Pub master: So, are you gonna have a drink to wake yourself up, Alfons?

Alfons the Mirror: Yes, perhaps I will, with an applejack.

The day after I was played by the mirror, I went around on my own to find the missing thing.

But it seemed the favorite phrase of the people I asked boiled down to ‘maybe you’ll know if you ask Alfons?’

So in the end, I couldn’t get my hands on any information, leaving me to go back to that person, much to my displeasure.

Said person was at the castle, playing on a whim with a black cat.

Alfons the Mirror: Elbie was going to add this cat to his collection, you see... but it’s a relief indeed that you won’t be subject to a taxidermy, isn’t it?

Black cat: Meow...

Alfons the Mirror: And so, what brings you here?

Kate: .........ease.

Alfons the Mirror: I’m afraid I didn’t quite catch that. Speak up a little more, why don’t you.

Kate: ...Help me...please...

Alfons the Mirror: With what, might I ask?

(I-I swear, this man——!)

Kate: I need your insights, so please help me...!

Alfons the Mirror: Very well. I must say you looked quite darling just now.

While I threw him a resentful look, Alfons brought his fingers to his chin in a dramatic gesture.

Alfons the Mirror: For the record, everything I am about to say is mere speculation on my end.

A: But you are Snow White, Elbie is the Queen, Roger the Hunter, and I the Mirror.

A: Don’t you think there is a missing cast member here in the story of Snow White?

(Ah...)

Kate: The prince?

Alfons the Mirror: Indeed, if you find that prince who is somewhere in this world, you may be able to return from whence you came!

Kate: Thank you so much, Alfons! I’m starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel!

Alfons the Mirror: Hardly. Then, I say we head off to search for this prince and whatnot posthaste.

Kate: Wait, you’re going to help?

Alfons the Mirror: Did I not say? I happen to very much enjoy sticking my nose into other people’s business without the need to take an ounce of responsibility.

And so, with Alfons, we started our search for the prince.

Alfons the Mirror: To all the candidates to be Snow White’s prince, over here! Yes, that’s it, line up in a single file.

A: Now, entry number 1. You can come up.

Candidate No.1: I-I would like to take Snow White’s hand in marriage, so I can get close to Queen Elbert——

Queen Elbert: ...Dismissed.

Alfons the Mirror: Thank you for your time. Ah, and over there are some souvenirs, so do take some with you.

Kate: Thank you for helping out so much.

K: ...But, what in the world is this!?

Alfons the Mirror: Thinking it was the most efficient way, I invited candidates from within the country. I am quite good at my job, aren’t I.

Kate: I won’t deny that, but you could’ve confided in me before it happened...

K: Besides, why is Queen Elbert helping as well?

Queen Elbert: ...? Because, I was worried about you?

Alfons the Mirror: Alright then, entry number 2. You may come up.

Candidate No.2: I want to marry Snow White, and every night... hehehe...

Queen Elbert: ...Take him out of the castle grounds.

Alfons the Mirror: Yes yes, right away. Guards, if you please, throw him right out of the castle.

—— Time skip ——

(...That must’ve been close to 300 people, but we couldn’t find even one remotely like a prince.)

The fatigue piling up on me, I started to feel more down.

(At this rate, I won’t be able to find the missing thing, and I probably won’t be able to return back to reality.)

Alfons the Mirror: Kate? Kate.

Kate: Yes... ngh, mn...

Alfons kissed me with a wet sound before he finally parted from my lips.

Kate: W-why a kiss so suddenly?

Alfons the Mirror: I was starting to grow tired of all these worthless men, so call this a cleansing of palate, if you will.

A: Oh, or are you perhaps in need of a more intensely pleasurable ‘cleansing’?

Kate: Ah… no, we can’t…

I remembered the heat from when he fondled me before, and for a moment I recalled the pleasure from that.

(But that… all of that…)

Alfons the Mirror: You can put all the blame on me. I simply had unfulfilled desires, and so I laid my hands upon you.

Kate: In between an audience… that’s bad manners.

Alfons the Mirror: Oh dear, did you truly take me for someone who tries to uphold manners, by any chance?

A: And besides that, with that sort of phrasing, are you meaning to say doing things like this is alright if it’s in a different place?

Kate: Wh—ah…

Alfons the Mirror: We can leave the prince hunt for tomorrow and enjoy ourselves today. How about it?

(That it would make me happy if that smile of his was not apathetic, but rather one that came from his heart…)

(…It’s not like I’m thinking that or anything.)

And then, a few days later, in order to invite real princes, a banquet was held at the castle.

(Urgh, if it’s real princes, that would mean they’re nobility, right? Of course I’d be nervous…)

Alfons the Mirror: Are you finished with preparations? Well, I’ll be, don’t you look wonderful.

A: That is one shameless slit, to be sure. You’ll have the princes on their knees in no time flat, I say.

Kate: H-hold on, don’t touch me.

Alfons the Mirror: Goodness, what’s there to be so stingy about?

At this point, such interactions with Alfons like this had long become a part of my every day.

I had initially felt so anxious, but now such feelings have dissipated more…

Kate: …You know, recently I’ve had times when I’ve thought about what I’m really searching for.

Alfons the Mirror: And that is to say?

Kate: I had thought finding that missing thing and correcting what made this world twisted would be the right thing to do.

K: But it’s just… I can’t help but wonder if that’s really the case.

The people living in this country had gone twisted and mad somewhere along the way.

After all, Queen Elbert was still searching for the most beautiful thing in this world,

and Alfons… he would sometimes have this severely lonely or icy look in his eyes.

But… there wasn’t any person here that was living an entirely proper life.

And I couldn’t help but feel more or less everyone was living at least a little mad.

While thinking that, I felt the sensation of fingertips tickling my back.

Kate: Eek!

Alfons the Mirror: So you no longer wish to return to reality, instead wanting to stay with me?

Kate: No way!

Alfons the Mirror: Hehe, that’s unfortunate. Oh, and would you look at that. It’s almost time, Snow White.

In the dance hall, princes from many different countries were gathered.

Green-eyed prince: Snow White, this dish is delectable.

Kate: Ah, thank you. I’ll partake in some.

(If it was Alfons, I imagine he wouldn’t eat this sort of luxurious dish.)

——How rude. I’ll have you know purposefully eating crudely is what makes a noble.

Blue-eyed prince: Snow White, uhm, could we talk over there later?

Kate: Yes, of course.

(If it were Alfons, he would probably drag me off somewhere without asking first.)

——After all, you don’t dislike this kind of force, do you?

(…W-wait, what…?)

(For a while now, why was I…)

Why was I trying to find Alfons in other people?

Kate: ——!

(I… to Alfons——)

to be continued…

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ko-fi ☕️ ┋ comms🤍

[yongility]

NEO TV # I LIKE ME BETTER WHEN I'M WITH YOU. (jaehyun x reader) 6/?

genre: angst, suggestive, gang au, rich kid au, enemies to lovers (kinda), a lil of fluffy stuff. slowburn, series.

warnings: drug use mentions, gangs, fights, use of weapons, adult language, illegal activities, cheating (not on the main couple), toxic family environment, addictions, manipulation, insecurities, illegal street racing, death mentions. jeno is jaehyun's younger brother, angst, smut and if I slip something my bad haha.

word count: +10k?

a/n: im the worst I KNOW! It's just i kept trying to write this chapter like a million times and it never ended like I wanted to and seeing as I have a language barrier (cuz English isn't my first language if u didn't know haha) I was just being unsatisfied with the chapter, but I force my ass to sit down and write this down so i hope u like it!

Sigh...

Overthinking.

(Y/N) had never been good at not thinking too much. Ever since she was little, she always found herself trapped in her own mind, unraveling every last detail of any situation. Perhaps it came from her mother, who had an almost supernatural ability to turn the smallest into the biggest, the most trivial into something monumental. Her mother sowed doubts where there were none, and every little imperfection became a tragedy in her house. That had marked her way of being, of perceiving the world and, especially, the people around her.

She hated it. But, despite everything, she couldn't help it.

Lying on the bed, her eyes fixed on the white ceiling, she felt how the silence enveloped her, how it pressed on her shoulders, on her chest. A heavy, unbearable silence, like a blanket that drowned her. The thoughts did not cease, on the contrary, they intensified as time progressed, dragging her more and more towards the storm raging inside her.

Five days. Five long and exasperating days.

Since the last time she saw Jaehyun. The last time he'd been at her house at one in the morning, when everything had been so... strange. So full of heavy silences, elusive looks, and something on his face, something she couldn't explain. A look she had never seen before. As if it was charged with something, with a desperation so great that he didn't know how to share it. Something that was far beyond the tension of her argument with Mark Lee. Something dark, hidden in the depths of Jaehyun, that she couldn't quite grasp.

Worst of all, now, five days later, she knew nothing about him. The unanswered calls, the messages delivered but not read. She had tried to contact him so many times, but the frustration was just overflowing her.

What was going on? The uncertainty was worse than any answer she could receive. In her mind, questions swirled like a whirlwind. Was she the cause? Had she done something that had driven him away from her? Why had he left so abruptly after their encounter?

She remembered that night. That last shared moment. It had been so... intense. So close, so intimate. An instant of shared vulnerability that had allowed her to feel that, at last, she was connecting with him in a deeper way. But then he was gone. Without a word. Without a word, without a gesture to indicate that something else might be behind his departure.

Jaehyun's words kept echoing in her mind, over and over again. "You're the one that can keep me on track."

Those words stuck to her skin like an invisible mark. What did they really mean? Was it true what he had said? Was she the one who could keep him focused? She wanted to believe it, wanted to be that person for him. But deep down, a fear was creeping in. Was she just being a distraction for him? Was she simply the release valve, the temporary relief for the anguish he was feeling, only so that later he could lose himself in his own pain again?

Knock. Knock. Knock.

She was confused, she didn't know what to do or what not to do. Should she go find him at Neo Zone? Or just wait for him to decide to show up? But, if Jaehyun decided not to... then what would she do?

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The sound of knocking on the door brought her out of her whirlwind of thoughts. She looked toward the door without moving a muscle, throat tight, stomach twisting. The last thing she wanted was to confront her mother, but the knock was persistent, as if someone had decided to break the silence of her room and force an interaction she didn't want.

But, despite the heaviness she felt inside, she got up. A slow, weary movement, as if she were walking through thick water. When she opened the door, she did not find what she expected, neither her mother, nor the inevitable argument. Instead, there he was.

"Daeho..." she murmured, her voice muffled, as if somehow his presence gave her back something she had lost in those days of constant overthinking.

It really had been a long time since they had last met face to face and to say it wasn't a surprise to her would be a total lie.

"Hey," he said, with a smile that didn't quite light up his face. "Can we just... hang?" he asked, scratching the back of his head as if it were weighing on him.

She nodded without another word, stepping aside for him to pass. As soon as he was through the door, Daeho plopped down on his bed unceremoniously, and (Y/N) mimicked him, lying down next to him quietly. They both stared at the ceiling, engulfed in the same silence that had filled their room before his arrival, though it felt somewhat less empty now.

It had been so long since they had shared a moment like this, a moment of simple companionship. She remembered the years when he had been her best friend, her inseparable companion, the only person she truly trusted within the family. But now, lying next to him, she felt as if she had a stranger by her side, someone who, despite all the shared memories, had fallen into a darkness from which she could no longer rescue him.

Daeho broke the silence, his voice soft but laden with an almost tangible weight. "How have you been?"

"I could be better," she replied, with a sincerity he understood without the need for details. He nodded, without looking at her, and went back to losing himself in the ceiling.

(Y/N) gaze strayed to him, and for the first time in a long time, she looked at him closely. His face seemed to have aged years in just a few months. His skin, paler than usual, was dotted with small imperfections that he once cared for with care. The dark circles under her eyes were deep, and her expression had an air of resignation that hurt to see. He sighed, swallowing the lump he felt in his throat.

It was ironic. The person she had grown up with, with whom she had shared so much, now felt like a stranger. She couldn't remember the exact moment when their friendship had changed, or how they got to this point. It had all happened so subtly, as if the words and gestures that had once bound them together had now lost their power. Perhaps time had eroded all that. Or maybe they simply didn't understand each other in the same way anymore.

A pang of pain shot through her. It wasn't just sadness she felt at seeing him like this, but also a pent-up rage, a helplessness that made her want to scream, to wonder at what point he had reached this point. How had he fallen so low?

Perhaps that moment had been from two years ago, when things had become a little darker in her family environment. When her aunt and uncle seemed unable to stop hurting his self-esteem again and again and again. Maybe it was since that gala when all eyes were on him, judging him, laughing at him, stalking him, waiting for him to make a simple mistake so they could point at him.

So they could tell him that he was not worthy of everything he had around him.

That he couldn't be as good as his father was.

That he was a mere spoiled child who deserved nothing.

Perhaps that was when it dawned on Daeho that he could never live up to the expectations he had to fill.

"Daeho..." she whispered, unable to keep the thought to herself alone. There was something heartbreaking about seeing how her cousin was losing himself, something that reached straight to her heart.

He closed his eyes, as if he knew what was coming, and remained silent, as if everything was in order.

"Why did we end up like this?" the question left his lips without meaning to. And as she uttered it, she felt a surge of pain run through her, as if that simple phrase was a reminder of how far away they were from each other.

Daeho closed his eyes for a few moments, as if trying to find an answer. Finally, he spoke, his voice muffled and distant.

"It's the only time I forget," he said, staring at the ceiling, not daring to look her in the eye. "When I do it, it's like I can stop thinking about everything."

"You're not forgetting," she asserted, "you're destroying yourself."

He let out a bitter laugh. "I don't think I'm doing it any more than they're destroying me," he said, his words hitting her with the force of a fist.

Silence filled the room again. She wanted to react, to scream at him, to convince him that he couldn't go on like this, but the words stuck in her throat. How to tell him that she could see him falling and could do nothing to stop it? How to make him understand that he was killing a part of himself?

"I can't keep watching you destroy yourself," he said at last, his voice trembling.

Daeho fell silent, and she felt a tide of memories rise up inside her. She remembered the years they had shared, the times when he was her refuge and she his, the days when nothing could separate them. Daeho had been more than a cousin; he had been her confidant, her best friend. To see him like this, consumed by something she could neither understand nor control, broke her heart.

"You don't have to," he replied softly, but the intensity of his words hit her hard.

(Y/N) wanted to laugh, a bitter, hurt laugh, but instead, she felt the lump in her throat grow larger.

"You said you'd quit it," she reminded him, almost in a sob.

Daeho turned his head toward her, and their eyes met for the first time that night. The look on his face was so devastated that she (Y/N) wished he hadn't looked at her.

"I can't," he admitted, his voice tinged with desperate honesty. "I've tried so many times, and each time...each time I realize I don't want to give it up. I know it's not what you want to hear, but...I'm in too deep. I don't know how to get out, even if I wanted to."

(Y/N) felt the pain in her chest become almost tangible. Seeing him like this, hearing those words, hurt in a way she could never have imagined.

"Why do things have to be like this?" she asked, feeling a lone tear fall down her cheek.

Daeho sighed, a long, exhausted sigh, and hid answer was so raw it seemed ripped from deep within him. "It's what I chose," he murmured. "It may not have been the best decision, but at least it was mine. It's the only thing I really decided for myself...without someone else telling me what to do, who to be. Even if it was for the worse."

She wanted to understand, wanted to see in his words something that would give her comfort, but she couldn't. She couldn't accept that someone who had once been so important to her had been lost like that.

"Don't let it drag you down," he said suddenly, his voice becoming firm. "I made my choices, (Y/N). But you...you have a life you can still build. I'm already too deep, but you...you have a lot ahead of you."

(Y/N) felt a mixture of anger and pain. She couldn't believe he was capable of telling her that, after all.

"You shouldn't keep seeing Jung Jaehyun," he added, in such a serious tone that it took her by surprise.

She looked at him, incredulous, the pain transforming into icy fury. "Get out of my room," he said, pointing to the door.

Daeho nodded, though not without a final sigh of resignation. "I just needed to tell you."

"Just go," she murmured, turning away from him.

He walked out quietly, leaving her in that loneliness that now seemed so much deeper, with the echo of his words echoing in the empty room.

Jaehyun knew it had been a chain of bad decisions and circumstances that had pushed him this far, but facing it was like tearing his skin off. He couldn't deny the truth: he hated everything around him, and he hated himself more than anyone else. His life, a maelstrom of regrets, had dragged him to this point, and try as he might, he could not escape that bitter mix of rage and hopelessness. Sometimes, in his darkest nights, he wished that everything would vanish into emptiness, that the weight of existing would finally disappear.

He wanted, with every fiber of his being, to close that circle.

"Ah, Jaehyun, always a pleasure to see you," Sooman said, leaning back in his chair with an icy, calculating smile, interlocking his hands with the false familiarity of one who controls the board.

Jaehyun felt the poison burn inside him. Disgust twisted his stomach, and that sneering smile of Sooman's only made his insides boil even more. He loathed the man with an intensity he could almost taste on his tongue. He faked a strained smile.

"I could say the same."

Fake it till you make it.

The thought passed fleetingly, and he tried to cling to it, but the hatred ate him.

"The last time we saw each other wasn't very pleasant," Sooman commented, dropping even more comfortably into his chair, as if enjoying the memory. Jaehyun's jaw immediately tensed. The memories of the beatings were still etched on his skin, and in his memory. Pain. Anger. Shame. All jumbled into a poisonous tangle. "That's why I want to make it up to you with a job."

Jaehyun could barely process that he was sitting there, across from Lee Sooman, listening to his offer, swallowing his disgust. He had heard everything Mark Lee had confessed, every word about the dark side of his boss that seemed to have no end. Deep down, all Jaehyun wanted was to make him pay, to see him suffer as he had seen his father, his Uncle Dong, Winwin suffer. Each of them had felt Sooman's merciless fist in their lives, and he was the last piece to fall.

Everything in him screamed to break the balance, to let the anger out. He wanted peace, but at the same time, he wanted to destroy everything.

The tension in Jaehyun's body increased. Make it up to him? The word felt like a taunt, but his voice was controlled, cold.

"What's this about?" asked Jaehyun, exhaling a sigh, as if by releasing the air he could release some of the weight in his chest.

Sooman smiled, with twisted satisfaction, and pulled his chair closer to the desk. "You see, in three weeks I have a trade. Trouble is, I don't want to, nor do I plan to, do it alone. I could take Cheol Uk with me, but I'd rather have him stay here, on this side of the pond...in case things get complicated," he explained, crossing his arms with the arrogant assurance of one who knows he controls all the strings. "And I think you'd be perfect company."

"What kind of exchange?" asked Jaehyun, though deep down he already sensed the answer.

"Weapons."

The shock of that word fell on him like a brick, a weight he couldn't shake. Jaehyun felt his body stiffen. He'd been in dangerous situations before, he'd played with fire and survived, he was a dealer in Neo Zone. But he knew that accepting that would mean crossing an invisible and final line. He would be transformed into someone even more embroiled in the chaos of the gang, with his hands stained with something he could never wash off.

It was hard to resist, but it was just as hard to accept.

"It'll be quick," Sooman continued, studying Jaehyun's every gesture like a predator watching its prey. "Just outside the city. If all goes well, it won't take more than an hour." he noticed the tension in Jaehyun's gaze, the hesitation he was struggling to keep hidden, and leaned toward him slightly. "I'm asking you because I trust you."

The words fell like a taunt. Jaehyun felt his blood boil, how his skin almost throbbed from pent up rage. His right hand clenched into a fist on his leg, trying to restrain the urge to get up and smash something, anything that would allow him to release what was burning inside him. How dare Sooman speak of trust, to pretend there was anything sincere between them? After all the damage he had sown around him?

But what choice did he have left? Deep down, Sooman's control was absolute.

"What's the pay?"

"Enough to cover six months of your friend's rehab," Sooman replied, his eyes locking on Jaehyun's, pressing right where he knew it hurt.

The mention of rehab was the final piece that fell, sealing his fate. Above all else, he needed the money. Above all else, there was someone else needing to get out of hell, and he couldn't let it drop. He closed his eyes for a moment, swallowing the pain that mingled with anger and despair.

"I'll do it."

"I knew you wouldn't fail me," Sooman replied, satisfied, with a smile that seemed tainted with venom. "You are just like your father. My trust is in you, Jaehyun."

Jaehyun nodded, feeling the knot in his chest tighten, choking him.

Fake it till you make it.

Roll on, light it up, inhale, exhale.

Roll on, inhale, exhale.

Inhale... exhale.

Inhale.

One, two... three.

Exhale.

Jaehyun coughed loudly as he passed the joint to Lucas, who with shrunken, red eyes took it in his hands without hesitation, taking a puff to hold the smoke in his lungs for a few seconds and slowly draw it out.

In front of them was the panoramic view of SM City, the prominent lights of the northern area made the southern area look small, even though from a distance they didn't seem to be so far apart... so different.

If only that were the case.

"You know you don't have to do it," Lucas muttered, exhaling one last puff of smoke before dropping the cigarette to the ground and crushing it with the toe of his shoe. His gaze, fixed on the ground, hid the trace of worry in his eyes.

Jaehyun continued to stare at the lights of the city, each bright spot fading into the distance, like the possibilities he once had and now seemed to be extinguished. His voice came out almost as a whisper, broken and strained. "It's six months of treatment, Lucas. "Winwin... Winwin has started to move his hand. It's a little acomplishment, I know. But it's a step, and I can't... I can't let that stop now." Each word was an effort, a confession that, deep down, that small breakthrough gave him a hope that felt forbidden in his life.

Lucas was silent for a few seconds, watching Jaehyun's profile, his rigid posture and the shadow of weariness in his gaze. "I thought you didn't want to do anything related to Sooman."

Jaehyun swallowed saliva. He thought so too. He had tried to escape Sooman's influence, that world that brought only destruction, but reality always caught up with him. He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and sketched a bitter smile, one that barely disguised the lump forming in his throat.

"I thought so too, but you and Mark have said so, haven't you? If I try to do anything about it, not a week goes by before I'm found with a bullet in my head." His voice cracked in bitterness. "Tell me, what other choice do I have?"

Lucas let out a deep sigh, as if searching for the words amidst a cloud of dark thoughts. Then his voice was firm and determined. "I'll do it."

Jaehyun turned his head in surprise and looked directly at him. His eyes, reddened with fatigue and smoke, met his friend's. Then he let out a dry laugh, without a hint of mirth, and patted him on the back.

"Jaehyun." The name left Lucas' lips grimly, stopping him in his tracks. "I know we've said all our lives that the only one who had a chance of getting out of this shit was Winwin...but we know he's not the only one. Maybe I'm not smart enough, but I know you are. You could go to college, get away from all this. You're good at math, you're good at sports... You've got something out there, something worth more than I could ever have." Lucas looked at him with almost desperate seriousness. "Let me make the trade for you. You've got a lot more to lose."

His friend's words hit him like a truth he had tried to ignore. He pondered them silently, letting each one settle in his mind. He appreciated Lucas' attempt, his desperate proposal to sacrifice his own life to protect him, but he knew he could not allow it.

With an effort, he kept his voice steady, even though he felt each word plunging him deeper into his own emptiness. "I appreciate your... nobility, dude. But I will not let you risk your life to save mine. That's not something I can accept."

Lucas exhaled sharply, frustrated. His words came out cutting, in a last-ditch attempt to talk some sense into him. "Do you want to end up like your father, like Uncle Dong?" The mention of both names made Jaehyun tense, his fists clenching tightly until his knuckles turned white.

Jaehyun didn't respond. He turned around and started walking towards his car, trying to stifle the anger and pain boiling inside him. He could hear Luke's footsteps following him, the echoes of his words echoing in his head.

"We know I'll end up like that someday..." he muttered, without turning around. The resignation in his voice was a shock to both him and his friend.

But then, Lucas said something that forced him to stop, "What about (Y/N)?"

The name made his whole body freeze, (Y/N). He could see her in his mind, feel the warmth of her laughter, the twinkle in her eyes. She was the only light in the midst of his darkness, the only memory he dared to cherish in his loneliest moments. Inside him, where no one else could see him, was where he allowed her to exist, a longing he would never dare to confess.

"There is nothing with her." His voice was a harsh whisper, as if in saying it he was tearing out a piece of himself. He didn't even turn, just let it escape into the wind. "There can't be."

"I thought you were having something," Lucas confessed, stepping closer to stand in front of him, forcing him to look at him. "Maybe you can't see it, but anyone would notice. You don't have to say it, Jaehyun. It shows in your eyes every time you talk about her. You want something with her, anything. You're going to risk that by getting more into this shit?" Lucas waved his hand, almost unable to control himself. "We were doing relatively well selling those packages. At least we could pay for Winwin's treatment. But now... Weapons? What will they ask you to do next? Assaults? Robberies?" his voice deepened, and Jaehyun noticed the fear in his eyes. "Kills? Do you think (Y/N) would want to see you in that hell?"

Jaehyun closed his eyes and took a breath. Lucas' words drilled into him, burned inside him, but he couldn't accept them. He couldn't accept a possibility that he knew would end up hurting (Y/N).

Finally, he opened his eyes and looked at Lucas directly, with a forced coldness that tried to hide the storm inside him. "And what do you want me to do, Lucas? She doesn't deserve a life like mine. She needs to be away from all this...away from me. I could only drag her into this hole from which there is no way out." The words came out fast, almost angrily, but at the end his voice cracked. "I can't offer her anything, do you understand? Nothing worthwhile."

Lucas lowered his gaze, but his voice still reflected desperation to save him. "But you have something to offer, Jaehyun. Your life. A life that can still go somewhere, that can be something different." She looked at him pleadingly. "Don't make the trade. Don't get yourself into this anymore. You have a way out, even if you don't want to see it."

Jaehyun's decision was like a stone inside him, a sinking certainty, but it was the only thing that gave him stability at the moment. He averted his gaze to the city lights and quietly sealed his fate.

"I have to do it." The determination in his voice was unwavering. "It's already decided."

Lucas watched him silently, with a sadness so deep it was almost palpable. He knew, deep inside him, that he was losing another friend. The night closed in around them and under the stars, as the lights of the city shone in the distance, he knew that, in some sense, he had already lost his friend.

When (Y/N) got out of Jungwoo's car, the roars of the engines echoed in her ears, but despite the noise, her mind was somewhere else, anchored in a memory. The first time she set foot in Neo Zone, it had been a curiosity, an adventure she didn't fully understand. Now, that same place seemed just as intimidating, but different. This time she was not an outsider spectator. This time, she was there for him.

People's gazes were instantly fixed on her. Some with curiosity, others with disdain. The gleam in her eyes was not the same as those of the "normals" around her in her world. No, here the gazes were sharper, like knives, trying to strip her of her essence, her privilege. She felt out of place, and though in some corner of her mind she knew she would never be part of this world, at that moment all she cared about was finding him. Jaehyun.

The lights of the cars reflected the tense and charged atmosphere of the race track, where the local gangs came to show off their cars and gamble more than they should. She knew what she was up against, and if she had learned anything over the past few months, it was that, in that place, the rules were few, but fierce.

So she wasn't surprised when a familiar and unpleasant face emerged from the crowd. Chris, with that sly grin, who always seemed to have a second purpose behind every word.

"Well, look what we have here," he said, his voice laden with derision. "After Johnny's party, I didn't expect you to be one od Jaehyun's toys."

( Y/N) tried to keep her cool, her body rigid and her gaze steady. There was something about that guy that always made her feel small, as if his words were thorns thrown on purpose. But she had no time for games now. She wasn't here to confront Chris, only to find Jaehyun. "Let me through, Chris," she said, her voice cold, firm.

But he didn't let her go so easily. He stepped between her and the pass, and his hand brazenly strayed to her waist. A touch she didn't ask for, a brush she didn't want.

"Oh no, baby," he said, his tone low, like a challenge. "I think you owe me a debt for that punch you gave me, remember?"

( Y/N) she felt irritation bubbling inside her, but she wasn't going to lose her composure. Not here, not now. But she wasn't going to give in either. "Let go of me, or I swear I'll hit you again," she retorted, pushing lightly against his chest, hands firm. It wasn't what she wanted, but it was what she had to do. She wasn't going to let Chris touch her.

Chris laughed, but it wasn't a genuine laugh. It was mocking, calculating, as if he enjoyed the power he thought he had over her. "Can you imagine what Jaehyun will think when he sees me with one of his toys?" The malice in his voice left no room for doubt. He knew what he was doing, and he knew he had something he could use against her.

( Y/N) didn't answer right away. Her gaze wandered, searching through the crowd, and there, like a magnet, she found him. Jaehyun. He was far away, but she could feel the intensity of his gaze, the weight of his presence. And it wasn't just any glimpse, no. She knew she had seen him. His posture was rigid, his face annoyed, his eyes burning with a silent fire.

"Turn around to find out for yourself," Jaehyun said, his deep voice cutting through the air. It was not a suggestion. It was an order, firm, authoritative. At that moment, the threat was clear. "Let her go and get the fuck out of herr if you don't want that fucking smile wiped off your face. Remember, you're in my zone."

Chris hesitated for a second, then let go of (Y/N), as if Jaehyun's presence was a steel wall repelling him. Looking at Jaehyun as if he would challenge him, but knowing that this was not his territory. Jaehyun's area, yes, but not his.

Before walking away, however, he couldn't help but throw one last malice-laden glance towards (Y/N). "Call me when you get tired of him, gorgeous," he said venomously, not caring that his words were only empty provocation.

When Chris finally disappeared into the crowd, (Y/N) didn't hesitate for a second. He walked straight towards Jaehyun, until she was right behind him, the sound of his footsteps drowned out by the bustle of the arena. Feeling his presence so close gave her a strange sense of calm, but also aroused an uneasiness she didn't know how to handle.

Jaehyun turned slowly toward her. His expression was hard to read, but the frustration was evident. As always, he was trying to maintain control, but he couldn't hide the annoyance. In one swift movement, he grabbed her wrist, holding it firmly, forcing her to look him in the eye.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" he asked, anger tinged with palpable discomfort. His tone was low, dangerous. He wasn't saying it out loud for all to hear, but it was as if his words cut through the air between them.

( Y/N) felt a knot in her stomach. The worry, the confusion, the need to explain herself, but also the frustration of knowing that she had no right to be there, that this world was not hers. However, she could not lie. "I was looking for you," she said, without thinking, without fear of what that might mean.

"You weren't answering my calls. I wanted to know how you were..." she confessed, feeling Jaehyun pull her gently through the crowd to get her away from the people.

Finally, after pushing through the sea of people, they found themselves in a quieter corner. Jaehyun let go of her hand and turned to face her.

It was at that moment that he saw the pain reflected in her eyes. The girl, her gaze fixed on him, fiddled nervously with her fingers, as if trying to calm her anxiety.

"(Y/N), I'm fine. You didn't have to come and get into this," he told her in a low voice.

"You could have answered my calls," she demanded, her voice strained. "I didn't know how you were after what happened at my house almost a week ago."

Jaehyun looked her straight in the eye and slowly denied.

"That night I shouldn't have gone to your house."

What...?

"What are you talking about, Jaehyun?" she asked, almost in a whisper, surprised by those words.

Because deep down he knew he was right. That night he shouldn't have crossed that line, shouldn't have sought comfort from her, shouldn't have allowed the girl to sneak into his head and heart like that. He should not have allowed the closeness between them to make him vulnerable.

He shouldn't have thought he deserved something like that.

Because he didn't. He never would.

"Why is it that every time we seem to be moving forward, you decide to pull back?" she asked him, her voice breaking.

"Because there shouldn't be an us, (Y/N)," Jaehyun replied, serious, as if the words hurt him as much as they hurt her. "And you know it."

She tried to process what she had just heard, but her mind was still spinning, entwined with thoughts that wouldn't leave her alone. Coming here, meeting him...it had all been a whirlwind. Her cousin's words that morning still echoed in her mind.

That was not what she had expected to hear from Jaehyun.

"No, Jaehyun. I don't know," she said, frustrated, her eyes flashing with a mixture of confusion and anger. "All I know is that there's something inside me that binds me to you. I always end up looking for something in you, something I don't understand. And the least I understand is that you somehow get close and then walk away like it's nothing."

She moved closer to him and, with a trembling finger, pressed it against his chest, accusingly.

"If I walk away it's because you don't need this life, (Y/N)," he told her, with a painful tenderness in his voice. "I can't give you the life you want."

"I'm not asking you for anything extraordinary, Jaehyun," she replied, almost begging for him to understand. "I'm not asking you for more than what we already are."

Jaehyun looked at her, searching her eyes as if he wanted her to understand something beyond words. With the distance between them so short that their breaths were intertwined, he continued with a sigh.

"But look at me, (Y/N), look at us," he said softly. "I'll never be able to offer you the life you're used to. And I don't want you to get used to mine, because it's not something you deserve." Her voice deepened. "You don't know what it's like to live with necessities, without luxuries. It's not something I can ask you to change or sacrifice for me."

She bit her lower lip, trying to take in what she had just heard.

She was silent for a few seconds, biting her lower lip as her mind tried to process every word Jaehyun had just said. Her chest felt tight, as if his words were a weight on her, an uncomfortable truth that hurt, but one she knew she couldn't ignore.

Jaehyun closed his eyes.

"No, I don't," she finally admitted, looking down at the floor. "I don't know what it's like to live with those hardships..."

Silence fell between them again. The distant murmur of people seemed to grow farther and farther away, as if the world around them was fading away.

"(Y/N), you deserve better than this. Something more... something more stable. I can't be that something for you," Jaehyun said, his voice trembling for an instant.

She realized what he meant. She knew it wasn't just about the material. She knew that what Jaehyun was telling her went beyond external difficulties. He didn't want to be a risk to her, didn't want her life to be dragged down by the uncertainty, by the confusion he himself felt.

"And yet... I can't stop looking for you," she murmured, with a sad, almost defeated smile. "I don't understand what's wrong with me, Jaehyun. I don't understand why everything seems clearer when I'm around you, but then it blurs, it becomes all so confusing."

Jaehyun watched her, unable to find the right words. All he knew was that there was an undeniable connection between them, something even he couldn't explain. But, at the same time, he couldn't deny the fear he felt that this connection would drag them into something neither of them could control.

"I'm sorry," he finally said, his words sounding almost like an apology to himself. "I really am sorry."

She stared at him, as if she expected him to say something else, something that might make sense of everything she felt. But he didn't. Instead, the air between them was filled with a quiet awkwardness.

"So what do we do now?" she asked, voice cracking, but determined not to give up.

Jaehyun took a deep breath, staring ahead as if searching for some answer in the void. "I don't know. But I need you to understand that I don't want to hurt you. I don't want you to end up trapped in my world..."

She denied slowly, not looking away. "So is that it, then, we're just going to keep taking a step forward and then step back? Is that what you want?"

"It's not that," Jaehyun replied, somewhat at a loss. "It's just that I can't offer you what you deserve."

"What about what I want?" she said, on an impulse that surprised her. "Because all I want...is to be with you."

Her words hit him hard. Jaehyun couldn't say he felt the same way, not in the same way. But he couldn't help but think that, maybe, if they both allowed themselves to take that leap... maybe things could be different.

"I'm telling you that I can't give you what you want," he repeated, now with a slight desperation in his tone. "And yet, I feel like I can't walk away from you."

She looked at him silently for a few seconds, trying to find some answer that wouldn't leave her more confused. Finally, she took a step back, letting the air between them grow colder.

"So... what do we do, Jaehyun?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper. "Because I don't know if I can keep waiting for something I don't know if it's coming."

Jaehyun looked at her, his heart pounding. He could see the pain in her eyes, and it broke him inside. But at the same time, he knew he couldn't drag her down with him, couldn't ask her to settle for something he couldn't offer.

"The only thing I can do now...is tell you the truth," he said, almost breathlessly. "I'm not going to drag you into my life without you knowing what you're getting into."

She stood still, staring at the floor, as if processing every word. An invisible weight seemed to fall on her shoulders, and though her thoughts were chaotic, a small part of her knew she had to make a decision.

"So, you decide for me?" she asked, raising her head, her eyes filled with a mixture of frustration and sadness.

Jaehyun said nothing. His silence was answer enough.

Finally, Jaehyun, his throat tightening, slowly pulled away, knowing that any further attempts to get closer would only cause more pain. "I'm sorry," he said one last time, almost as a whisper, and took a step back.

And (Y/N) watched him walk away, her heart heavy, knowing there was nothing more to do. She stood alone in that dark corner of Neo Zone, with the noise of the engines rumbling around her, like a distant echo of the emotional storm she had just experienced.

a/n: I hope you liked even though in took me weeeeeeks to post hahaha, love y'all! NOT PROOFREAD! I’ve been sitting down like 4 hours trying to come with the chapter so now I’ll go to sleep 😴.

taglist is open! if you want to be added just lemme know;)

taglist: @spicyryujin @daegalismybiasinnct @peachfulnight @gojoscumslut @bluedbliss @dear-97 @girlwholovespreppyattire @hana-off-icial @cigarettesafterjae @beomgyusonlywife @bts-iris @doejaejung @methneo @kriizztin @mrsuhnshine @pieddpiperr (idk why some of the tags just don’t work out!)

If you want to ask me something, feel free to send them!

[cuubism]

needless to say I've written many new fics instead of finishing my existing ones. and this is one of them. a strange little fic for you.

-

Something was preying on the village's children, and Hob had been elected to go out and kill it.

Alright, it wasn't actually eating the children, they were still alive and largely unharmed. But something out there was doing something to them, because children kept going out to play by the edge of the woods and coming back wrong.

Indefinably wrong. Quiet. Serious. Disinclined to play as they were before. Even the parents who'd once complained of their children's lack of discipline and work ethic were disturbed by the sudden absence of laughter and energy in the village.

So Hob was sent to make it stop. Probably because he'd spent so much time in the forest he knew it better than he even knew the village. Probably because he had no children of his own. No one to leave behind.

He'd been sent into the woods to find out what was what--or rather, to simply take the thing's head off its shoulders, but Hob was more inclined to find out what was what first, for curiosity's sake if nothing else.

It was near dusk when he reached the edge of the forest. Mist lay heavy on the tree branches, haze stole between the bramble bushes. Darker still it was deep in the woods, wet and hushed, no animal life now with the sun going down behind the clouds, only leaves ghosting down, the whispers of early autumn decay.

Hob loved this time of year, not least for the good deer hunting it brought, but also for the quiet, the last breath of settling down for winter. Everything was starting to go grey, and it was good, after the activity of the summer, and of the harvest, to fall into that cycle again, setting fires and shuttering windows, waiting for the onset of the cold.

Or, as was he wont, as he was doing now, treading silently into the forest, steps careful on the wet, leafy floor. His bow was at the ready, the grip familiar in his hand, quiver of arrows at his back. He wasn't sure where exactly he would find the thing, the creature he was hunting, though if it liked to prey on the children playing by the edge of the forest, it couldn't live too deep in the trees. Perhaps it would come for him, thinking him prey, though Hob thought he might be too big for it, in comparison to a child.

Still, he made his way into the chill embrace of the woods. In the low light the trees all started to blend together, yellow orange and brown all melting and bleeding like wet paints. Droplets fell on his shoulders, branches tugged on his hair. But Hob knew how not to draw the attention of anything but the trees.

Eventually he made it to the edge of the lake. The water was utterly still, reflecting the forest in perfect mirror. And Hob went equally still, grip tightening on his bow, for there was something crouched by the water's edge, peering into the shallows.

Hob froze in the trees, watching. It was a leggy thing, long thin limbs curled under an angular body, spine curved as it bowed before the water. Black fur--or feathers? he was unsure--ghosted along the back and limbs, though the face was pale, angular and more human-like than Hob had expected. It was a solemn, contemplative face, reflected moonlike in the water, and the overall impression was haunting but beautiful. Hob had always felt he belonged in these woods, but in comparison to this creature he was an intruder, a blundering interloper, while the creature emerged right from the mist, and could very well vanish back into it.

He knew, somehow, that this was what he was looking for.

And he didn't want to kill it. He couldn't bear to just kill it.

But at the same time, he couldn't just let it keep preying on the children. No matter how pretty it was. Wolves, too, were beautiful, but when one got too comfortable going after the sheep it was time to take action.

He crept closer. The creature didn’t seem to hear him, or was absorbed in its thoughts. As Hob watched, it shook mist droplets from its feathers, but didn’t otherwise stir.

Hob crept ever closer. He could not seem to find the usual thrill of the hunt he felt when he followed a deer or a fox. He felt sort of… sick. Like his soul was rebelling against the idea of hurting the thing by the water. Still he came closer, trying to shake off the feeling.

Suddenly, though Hob made no notable sound, that pale sharp face whipped up to look at him. Its black gaze pierced through him like a dagger, and Hob flinched—and in the breath of that flinch, it ran.

Hob’s instincts caught up to him a second later. He had his bow nocked and drawn before he’d consciously thought of it, operating on muscle memory, the ingrained motions of the hunt. He couldn’t let it get away.

He fired.

The creature dodged his first shot, pelting out of the way through the trees, but Hob was used to the erratic sprints of deer and foxes, and aimed better the second time. He caught it on a turn, just as it was... disappearing? It started to go kind of thin, kind of see-through, like mist—but Hob's arrow sliced through its thigh before it could vanish.

The creature shrieked, tumbling to a stop in the leaves. Hob chased after it, bow now loose in one hand—he didn’t want to shoot again, he still didn’t want to kill it. But he chased it, skidding to a stop by the prone body where it lay shuddering in the shadows, Hob’s arrow stuck clean through its thigh.

Hob noted with relief that it did not seem to be a fatal wound, though the creature was doing its damnedest to make it so. Its form flickered before his eyes, vanishing and returning, vanishing and returning, and all the while dark blood spilled from the wound, staining the forest floor black. It seemed to be trying to disappear, but the arrow held it fast.

"Quit panicking, you're making it worse," Hob warned, now genuinely concerned it would aggravate the wound and make itself bleed out. He moved to press his hands over the gash, but the creature made an awful, grating panicked sound and clawed at his hands, scrambling away with another trill of pain as the arrow caught and dragged. Hob hissed at the scratch torn across the back of his hand, but he couldn't truly blame the creature for it. Fair enough, honestly.

"I don't want to kill you," Hob said, raising his hands in surrender.

The creature narrowed its black eyes at him. "Take back your arrows, put the fire back into your bowstring, perhaps then I might believe you."

Hob stared, dumbfounded. He honestly hadn't expected it to speak. He'd expected it to be more like an animal—a particularly intelligent one, a magical one, to be sure, perhaps even a spirit of some kind, like in the stories—but not to open its mouth and speak just like a man would. Then again, it did wear a human face. Perhaps that face was truer than he’d assumed.

“Okay, you’re right,” Hob conceded. “But I couldn’t just let you run.”

“What right had you to stop me, human?” The tone was indignant—but it was afraid of him, Hob thought. The dark eyes glinted and rolled, and every muscle was taut, blood pulsing sluggishly from the wound, unimpeded as the creature kept its hands free to attack him if needed. “To chase me down like a common beast?”

“What right?” Hob said, incredulously. “What right did you have to prey on those children?”

“I am not,” said the creature stiffly, some of its fear sloughing off in the course of its offense, “preying upon them. You humans only see what you inflict upon others. The children will soon be returned to how they were. In fact. They will be better than they were.”

“That’s not how it seems right now,” Hob said, remembering the listless gazes of the village children as they went about their chores.

The creature huffed, irritated. “You give them no time. I needed only to borrow their dreams,  that I might sustain the magic that upholds all dreams. They will have them back. In addition. I have given them a gift. Children so often lose touch with their dreams as they grow. Becoming dull. Narrow-minded.” He glared as if Hob was an example of this. “But these will not.”

“…What are you, then?” Hob asked, trying to process.

The creature edged away from him, wincing as the movement tugged on its wound. “It matters not to you. Leave me. And perhaps I may not punish you for these crimes.”

“Doesn’t seem like you can do much with that arrow in you,” Hob observed. It had prevented the creature from disappearing, after all.

And before Hob could react, the creature had grasped the arrow in one clawed hand and yanked it from its leg.

“No!” Hob yelled, but it was too late, blood was already gushing from the creature’s thigh.

“Better than whatever fate you might have in mind,” it hissed, form starting to flicker. But its eyelids fell just as fast, consciousness slipping as blood poured from the wound.

“No!” Hob yelled again, grabbing the creature and pressing his hands to the wound, staunching the flow of blood. The beast slumped against him, unconscious. But alive. For now.

Hob felt he’d made a terrible mistake. He still didn’t understand what exactly the creature had been doing to the children—but he didn’t want to just let it die.

He had some bandages stashed in his tunic—he’d brought them for himself in case the creature turned on him—and quickly wrapped the wound, tying it tight to stem the bleeding. Then, having no other recourse, he picked the creature up to take it back with him.

I’m going to get bit for this, Hob thought, as he started to make his way back out of the woods. The creature would not be pleased to find itself in Hob’s cabin when—if—it woke up. But he carried it back anyway, through the damp, misty trees, night properly falling around them.

The creature was lighter than Hob would have thought, barely there in his arms. As he walked he had the chance to observe its features at peace. The face, as he’d thought, was very human, especially with those dark eyes closed—soft lashes and messy hair, sharp, almost gaunt cheekbones, bitten lips. It—he? Hob wasn’t sure—was really quite beautiful.

Fortunately Hob’s cabin was far enough from the rest of town that no one would see him bringing the creature back instead of killing it. He hurried inside, set the dream creature on his bed and stoked the fire from embers back to blazing warmth. The creature—he wished he knew if it had a name—had started shivering, and Hob laid a thick blanket over him, careful of the wounded leg.

Damn thing, he thought, but with more guilt than ire. If only it hadn’t struggled, hadn’t tried to yank the arrow out. Then again, Hob would probably have done the same, in its position.

He had come into the woods to kill it, after all.

He double-checked the bandage on the creature’s leg—the bleeding had stopped, thankfully—and kept watch into the night. The creature gradually stopped shivering, and Hob found himself obsessively checking its breathing every few minutes, sure that this meant it had died rather than simply warmed up. But the creature lived on. And as night fell to utter blackness, as the fire crackled warm in the hearth and Hob kept up his position in the chair by the bed, his eyelids began to droop.

He shook himself, pinched himself, tried to stay awake. But sleep tugged on him anyway. Its draw was impossible to resist, and he sank down into his chair, body slumping, head dropping to rest on the chair’s back.

The wood was dark, and Hob was hunting.

He wasn’t sure what, but he knew he had to catch it. He was chasing it, running through darkness, stepping on instinct, bow clasped in his hand. The thing scurried before him, he could hear it, even if he couldn’t see it.

And— there! In a patch of moonlight. A flash of dark feathers and pale flesh and—

—Hob reached out and caught it. His hands wrapped around a slim, fragile neck, and he pounced on the thing, pressing it into the ground.

As his weight landed on it, Hob would have expected the creature to scream, fight, claw at him—but it just watched him with dark eyes, fingers gripped lightly around his wrists. It looked… perhaps faintly scared, but mostly resigned to its fate.

All at once Hob felt sick at the thought of hurting it. He lurched back, letting it go, falling back on his haunches in his haste.

The creature leapt for him, landing on his chest, nails digging in—

Hob woke with a gasp, and couldn’t move. He flailed, but the weight on his chest didn’t budge, he opened his eyes—

—the dream creature stared back. Hob was lying on the floor, having apparently slid from his chair while asleep, and just as in the dream the creature was perched upon his chest, staring at him with its piercing blue eyes. “You are an interesting human,” it said. “Hob Gadling.”

Hob started, heart still pounding from the dream. How did it know his name?

“I thought to uncover your real intentions in your dream, but it seems your word is true,” it continued. “Unusual among adult humans. Usually you lose your honesty as you grow.”

“Is it?” Hob asked shakily. The thing’s talons were digging into his chest. “You know a lot about dreams, I guess.”

The creature narrowed its eyes and Hob got the distinct feeling that it thought he was stupid. “I am Dream. I am the spirit that governs and shepherds that realm. Why did you try to save me?”

“Felt bad,” Hob said, trying to grapple with the spirit that governs dreams. It wasn’t like he didn’t know such spirits existed—but he had never heard of one that could walk dreams before. “I’m the one that shot you, after all.”

“Hmm.” Finally, it— Dream— climbed off him, sitting beside him with limbs folded up, studying him. He really was kind of a strange-looking thing, but more human-like than Hob had realized in the dark wood. Very much like a human stepped out of a dream, a little twisted and shadowy and wrong. He was very beautiful too, birdlike where he wasn’t quite human, sleek feathers and sharp features.

“Look,” Hob said. “If you’re really not hurting the children, then we don’t have any trouble, do we? Just go.”

Instead of fleeing into the night, Dream crept closer again, reaching out with a taloned hand to comb through Hob’s hair. Hob stayed very still, with those claws so close to his eyes.

“I enjoyed your dreams,” he said. “They were… rejuvenating.”

“They were?” They hadn’t been very rejuvenating to Hob.

“Mmm. Rich, dimensional like a fine wine.”

Oh, great.

“Other dreams aren’t rejuvenating to you?” Hob asked, strangely breathless.

“I rarely partake,” said Dream, now tracing his fingertips over Hob’s face, as if mapping the shape of it. “I merely borrow dreams to strengthen them, and solidify their power for dreamers.”

“For kids who aren’t yet adult hopeless cases,” Hob said.

Dream’s lips turned up in a smile. “Yes. Adults cannot be helped. You have already lost your whimsy.”

“Have we?” Hob asked. “You don’t even want to try?”

Dream looked at him sideways. “Will they shoot me if I do?”

Well. Kind of fair.

“I’ll at least tell everyone that you’re not a threat,” Hob promised. “How about that?”

“Very well. I shall hold you to it, Hob Gadling.”

He stepped away then, letting go of Hob’s face, and Hob tried not to feel disappointed that he was going. Dream was definitely the most interesting thing he’d seen in a long while.

Magic started to swirl around Dream, his form becoming more indistinct. But before he could disappear, Hob sat up quickly, called out, filled with some strange desperation he couldn't quite name, “Wait!”

The magic settled down again, and Dream studied him questioningly.

“Come meet me again,” Hob said. “In the forest.”

Dream narrowed his eyes. “Why.”

“I’m curious,” Hob said. It had gotten him in trouble before, but somehow he didn't think it would this time. “I want to know more about what you do. About— about dreams. In return— well, you said my dreams were ‘rejuvenating.’”

Now that he thought it, Dream seemed… hungry. He was very thin, and if he truly never took anything from the dreams he walked…

“They are,” said Dream, cautiously. Then, at length, “Very well, Hob Gadling. I shall find you again. But know that should you betray me, and lead other humans to me to capture me, then your dreams shall be very unpleasant indeed.”

With that, he was gone.

Hob finally got to his feet, shaking a little from the crash of emotions in the wake of Dream’s departure. What a deeply strange creature. His touch, though, had been surprisingly gentle— his look upon Hob, in the end, more interested than angry.

Though he knew Dream had gone into whatever spirit or dream realm he traveled through, still Hob went to the door and looked out.

It was late—or rather early—enough now that dawn was just starting to rise, the grey haze of morning seeping over the horizon. Mist covered the fields, and settled heavy and wet on the edge of the forest. Hob gazed out towards that forest, thinking of its darkness, and of Dream, somewhere in it. He knew he would not get Dream out of his mind for a very long time.

In fact. He may be going back out to the forest much sooner than he’d anticipated.

First, he had to let the villagers know that Dream wasn’t a threat. He wasn’t sure whether they would believe him. But maybe by learning more about Dream, Hob would be able to convince them.

For now, Hob closed the door, and went back inside to make some breakfast. He doubted he’d be getting back to sleep this morning.

Even if he was somewhat tempted to try. In the hopes that he just might meet a certain dream.

promised myself i wasn't going to write any new fics until i finished some of my existing wips, but it's been such a beautiful fall week that i've got a little fall drabble for them spinning in my head. though much like my winter drabble from last year, it's not so much cozy seasonal vibes as it is about Strange Creatures in the woods. after all the best fall day is one where it's drizzly and misty and a little grey, and the yellow leaves are stuck to the pavement, and everything looks painted in dripping watercolor. and i think it's a good sort of day to meet a strange thing in the woods, especially when that thing finds you, a human, more horrifying than you find it.

[darkdragon768]

"Don't listen to yourself, you do want to have kids someday!" SHUT UP "You do want to start a family on your own!" SHUT UP "You do want to-" SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP YOU DON'T KNOW HOW I FEEL AND YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT I WANT SO STOP SAYING I'M CONFUSED OR HAVEN'T FOUND THE RIGHT ONE (emphasis on a male partner specifically because gendered language) YET OR ACTING LIKE YOU KNOW HOW I WANT TO LIVE MY LIFE

AND STOP FUCKING SAYING HAVING KIDS IS A WONDERFUL THING WHEN YOU'RE A NO-UTERUS-HAVER

I NEVER AND NEVER WILL TELL ANYONE MY GENDER THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS IF ALL I GET IN RETURN IS GETTING CALLED CRAZY AND STUPID

SO WHY DO I STILL TRY TO MAKE THEM UNDERSTAND WHEN IT'S FOR NOTHING.

[noxtivagus]

oh my god it's 9 am