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ddarker-dreams · 1 year ago

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Nexus III.

Yandere Blade x F Reader.

Warnings: Explicit not SFW, mommy issues galore, some psychological horror elements, yandere themes, and unhealthy relationships. Word count: 15.6k.

Nexus index.

When you dream of your mother, it’s in a lotus field.

Everyone’s psyche manifests itself in a distinct way, echoes the teachings she left behind. This is yours.

The bioluminescent petals cower inward as if hiding a terrible secret. Some bloom along the hazy ground, others swing in the air, suspended by strings hung from a glass dome overhead.

In this dream, you cannot speak, though you have much to say.

Gentle as you may be, each step you take to close the gap between you and her demands a sacrifice. The flower’s vibrancy drains like color from a dying man’s face. From the stem upward, it decays. To try and save it is to kill it faster. Brittle fragments crumble into ashen piles that scratch at your bare feet.

Her back remains facing you.

You have no way of earning her attention. She is blind to the frantic waving of your arms, deaf to the eroding necropolis you leave in your wake.

You’re certain you’ll never reach her. Still, you try, only to fail all the same.

With each passing dream, a crack along your glass dome spreads. It started too small to see and is now too large to fix. Is it best to let it shatter? Could it be the silent warden that cordons you off from a universe you know yet have never experienced?

Or is it the final bastion that shields you?

A devastating attack on the Thelx’s main guide causes cataphoric damage to the quadrant’s sixth residential district. The aftershocks resulted in the collapse of multiple buildings, resulting in injuries for hundreds and a rising death toll that currently stands at 34. Local residents have filed complaints for years now, listing concerns that the most recent building inspections have not resulted in appropriate measures taking place.

“We all knew something bad was bound to happen,” said one woman who happened to be visiting family in Ade during the incident. “We knew, but where else are we supposed to go? Our choices were to stay put and take our chances or try surviving in Arc. No one wanted that. But now…. seeing this… maybe Arc would’ve been better.”

An investigation into the matter is being spearheaded by Chrysus, Ade’s Exalted Regent.

We reached out to Chrysus’ team for a statement and have yet to receive a response.

Rumors are swirling online that the attack was targeted at Thelx’s Exalted Arbiter, [First] Phaeales, the single daughter of the deceased Ania Phaeales. A spokesperson for Thelx’s fledgling matriarch has confirmed her safety, though she received minor injuries. Thelx is expected to endure further economic hardship due to the IPC’s recent travel ban. The LOTUS-EATER and similar establishments constitute up to 43% of Thelx’s total gross domestic product—

“It’s rude to read when you have a guest over,” Nona chides.

“Sorry.”

You turn your phone off and place it beside the other ornaments atop your vanity. Makeup, jewelry, hair ornaments, and one of the only gifts your mother ever gave; a lotus made of iridescent crystals. It’s sat untouched for years and you assume it will continue to do so.

Nona, who has helped herself to lying on your bed, rolls over onto her stomach. Both her cheeks squish together as she holds her head up by tiny fists, her elbows digging into your comforter for support. She draws her lips into a thin line. There’s a hollowness to her gaze that rivals the mask she wore when you first met.

“Why do you care so much?”

Her inquiry leaves you temporarily at a loss for words. “... What?”

“About people you haven’t met,” she clarifies. “Whose names you don’t even know. To them, you’re nothing but a glorified mascot to blame when things go bad and praise when things go right.”

Your mouth is too dry for you to swallow. “Each life in Thelx has been entrusted to me.”

“So? Did everyone come up to you one by one and ask for your stewardship?”

“Of course not, don’t be unreasonable.”

“I’m the one being unreasonable?” Nona barks a caustic laugh. “Have you seen what these people have been saying? ‘Let’s pack up the family and move to Arc!’, as if any of them could survive there for more than the instant their foot crosses over the divide. It’s hilarious! The funniest joke I’ve heard in some time.”

Your eyes narrow. “That’s enough. The community is understandably hurt. Frightened. When tragedies happen, we each have our ways of making sense of things.”

She pushes herself up and sits crisscross. “I’m just saying I’d like to see them try. Me… I would’ve given anything to have been born here. An organ, a limb, whatever. At least I’d be hobbling around where there’s light and warmth.”

“Nona…”

“They don’t know. They have no idea,” Nona trembles. “People make Arc out to be something it isn’t. ‘Look at how free they are, they can live as they please, answering to no one but themselves!’ Funnily enough, the IPC said the same thing when they built Perianth, didn’t they? Got the whole universe feeling warm and fuzzy. The poor, the wretched, the damned; they’re hideous up close, so let’s tuck them far away from the light. Then we don’t have to see them.”

She hangs her head. “Experiencing rejection from the rejected… that’s what they can look forward to in Arc. Anything else is a pipe dream.”

You get up from your chair and sit down next to her on the bed. Finding a blanket, you toss it over your shoulder, extra prudent to avoid any accidental contact. Glassy amber eyes blink slowly as you pat the cushioned spot. She starts leaning in, only to pause a few inches shy of her intended target. You don’t need to be in her head to guess what reel she’s flicking through. When the feature film’s end credits roll, she rests her head on your shoulder.

“Lear’s worried about you, y’know.”

“I know.”

“Loopy would be too, if it were sentient.”

“It’s possible.”

“...”

She whispers your name, hesitant, as if she were a child preparing to ask their parents for a gift they know they can’t have.

“If I could, I’d wish that all the stars in the universe would burn so bright, so hot, that each person would melt away like ice until only us three remain. The poor, wretched, and damned. Our happiness would be unrivaled if there were no one else to compare ourselves to. You don’t know misery if no one ever tells you you’re miserable.”

Or maybe you invent new miseries for yourself, you think. Then, with no one to compare yourself to… would you not be the most miserable person in the universe?

You could voice your musings but to verbalize them now feels wrong. Instead, you choose to let her live the wish that will never come true. In this pocket dimension, beyond the four walls of your room, nothing exists. No Thelx, Perianth II, Stellaron Hunter or IPC. There are only two jagged shards who have abandoned being whole again. You might not click together like puzzle pieces, perfectly falling into place to form a seamless image, but you can look at the pane you broke free from and decide for yourself if the result was worth it.

Choosing between two evils is better than being stuck with one.

“Nona,” you break the silence. If there’s anything you’ve been doing too much of lately, it’s dwelling on factors beyond your control.

“Hm?”

“That flower bouquet,” you nod toward the magenta-colored roses on your vanity, which she brought in earlier. “There was a message attached to it, wasn’t there?”

She stiffens.

“... Possibly.”

You knew a ‘gift’ from Miss 10.899 billion wouldn’t come without some poisonous flourish. The roses don’t have thorns, so the sharpness must lay elsewhere.

“What did it say?”

“You really want to know?”

“I’m asking, aren’t I?”

She deflates like a balloon pricked by a needle, then mumbles, “The tag said ‘Get well soon.’”

Ah, you think. If I could have anyone melt away… she’d certainly be high on the list.

You haven’t spoken one word to Blade since he carried your unconscious body back to the LOTUS-EATER.

Regardless, he’s still around. He isn’t some option in your settings you can turn off with a single button press. He hasn’t initiated contact while you healed from your injuries, which consisted of a sprained ankle, two broken ribs, and minor abrasions peppered throughout. Your high position ensured you’d receive the best medical care Eris has to offer.

Fourteen total cycles have passed since the Thelx nectar guide bombing.

Fourteen dreary cycles filled with nothing but eating bland food, taking bitter medication, and dreaming the same gloomy dream.

During this festive stretch, Nona has been your primary visitor. Lear restricted himself to electronic communication, fearing the emotional reaction he’d experience from seeing you in this state might harm you. They’ve both taken to distracting you in their own fashion. Nona shows you pictures, such as the googly eyes she put on Loopy, or discusses the strangest psyches she’s seen from clients. One client’s mind manifested itself as a drumstick.

“Not even a pair, just one,” she giggled. “Hey, don’t start lecturing me about our privacy policy. I see you fighting back a smile. That absolves me from breaking my NDA.”

Then there’s Lear who laser focuses on your health. At least 80% of his texts follow the ‘Have you x’ format. Stretched, taken medicine, slept, eaten; you half expect him to start asking if you’ve breathed enough.

The timer you’ve set for your tea goes off.

You pull the teabag out, dispose of it, and then stir the ruby-colored concoction. Golden flecks swirl in a violent vortex. Content, you throw on a diaphanous, cape-like outer garment over your loungewear. The fabric is deceptively delicate to the eye yet has been synthesized to preserve heat.

The components that open your bedroom door at your behest emit a low hum. The lack of use must’ve spoiled them. This is the first time you’ve emerged from your hibernation. The light system in your office whirs to life upon your return. You wave off the visual assault. Your eyes have become so accustomed to the dark that you’ll need to build your light tolerance back up.

After inputting the proper passcode, you pass through to the balcony.

And then immediately regret it when Blade’s back is the first thing that greets you.

He’s in a meditative stance. The gales of loud emotion that normally engulf him have quieted down to a hush. From this position, you can see how his long ebony strands cascade down his back, the tips taken on a reddish hue. A pearlescent sheen shimmers along the outline of his body, the moon’s personal gift. When one thinks of a stereotypical warrior, certain biases culminate in the rough image of some brute, like a brigand from a child’s fairytale.

However, seeing him like this, exuding poise and temperance, you think he fits the role of prince.

You take a step back.

“You can stay,” his voice slashes through your entangled thoughts, “I’ll go inside.”

A beast slithers in the calm waters as soon as he stops his meditation. It isn’t voracious or on the hunt. No, you get the distinct feeling it finds pleasure in lurking just below the surface, not creating so much as a ripple to deter its prey. Waiting and waiting. By the time some poor soul enters and realizes they aren’t alone, it’s too late. Multiple rows of pointed teeth have already pierced their flesh.

You block his path with your body, an act that’s equally confounding to him as it is to you.

“I wanted to talk to you,” you say. Your boldness fizzles out beneath the weight of his stare. “If… that’s alright.”

He considers you briefly. You expect him to walk away without sparing you another glance, but it must be his turn to foster confusion. He turns around and sits on the chair to the left, as he did when you first became acquainted. After what feels like a delay in your neurons providing information to your brain, you sit beside him. It occurs to you that your little balcony is in excellent shape even though you haven’t been able to maintain it.

You look at him from the corner of your eye.

Has he been keeping this area clean?

Oddly enough, it’s Blade who prompts further conversation. “How are your injuries?”

“My ankle’s fully recovered and my ribs only hurt if I move too much. I’ve got nothing to complain about.”

You take a sip of your concoction. A sweet, herbal flavor dances on your tongue with a hint of spice. These tea leaves are one of the few that can grow on Eris in an artificial environment. You added a spoonful of the Nectary’s tonic to complement the taste. It’s a drink popularly referred to as ambrosia.

“How about you? Have you healed— oh, um.” You raise your hand to cover your traitorous mouth. It can prevent more words from coming out, but it can’t take back what’s already been said.

“I have, unfortunately.”

“‘Unfortunately?’” You repeat back, though the sound is muffled. You wince. So much for putting an end to your bluntness.

“You’re acting reserved,” he dryly notes. “Is this the same woman who takes every chance to tell me off?”

“Hey, I don’t take every chance to—” You throw your head back in exasperation upon seeing the beginning of a self-satisfied smirk. “... I shouldn’t… have behaved as… candidly as I did. It’s unprofessional.”

“‘That part,’ huh,” Blade mutters. “You don’t have to section off parts of yourself, you choose to.”

The tea’s aftertaste turns bitter.

To be whole is a privilege Blade doesn’t have, you think. If he allowed that, then… would he really be ‘Blade’ anymore?

You stare down at the distorted reflection the tea provides, ripples distorting your likeness before you can confirm his claim. Your hands must be trembling.

“I advised against it for a reason. My mind is unsightly.”

“It isn’t that!” you turn your head toward him, catching how he furrows his eyebrows at your outburst of emotion, “What I did… it wasn’t right. I took advantage of your vulnerable state and tried to manipulate you. Control you. A violation like that… it’s unforgivable.”

Anytime a situation threatens to spiral beyond your control, you resort to what you supposedly swore off.

I’ll only do it this once, the circumstances call for it, you’d tell yourself. No more after that. I mean this time, I really do. It won’t happen again.

Until it does.

Alister with his weapon. Blade after he saved your life. Lear when the loneliness felt excruciating.

Your chest feels like it’s hosting a colony of crawling maggots ready to burst through your flesh. It hurts, this slimy, despicable filth that you scrub raw only to dirty again. Not trusting yourself with the fragile teacup, you set it down.

“So that’s what you consider a sin,” Blade says. “You oppose incarceration and yet you're a prisoner to your own guilt.”

“That’s different.”

“Even so, one is far worse than the other. I should know; I’ve experienced both. If I could choose between a physical prison or my mind, I’d pick the former.”

You recall the gargantuan structure that is Blade’s repressed psyche. The oppressive atmosphere, how it stood alone, far removed from anything resembling hope.

If it’s of Xianzhou build, it must be none other than the Shackling Prison.

“The injuries you received when protecting me,” You work through each word slowly, as if testing their validity. “They should’ve killed you. But instead… you ‘defied the natural order’ — death itself.”

Blade doesn’t move his gaze from the four moons in the sky.

The Xianzhou Alliance’s intolerance for those who follow the Aeon of Abundance, Yaoshi, is infamous throughout the universe. What the followers consider blessings, they reject as curses. For the Xianzhou, it’s personal. The ink the Aeon has left behind hardly has time to dry before more transgressions are added to the ledger.

Those who live on Eris, yourself included, most commonly follow the Noct, the Aeon of The Ideal. Noct is thought to be the one who blessed this planet with the Nectary. Without it, the first generation of prisoners left to fend for themselves by the IPC would have perished. Your Aeon is in what the Genius Society calls ‘an indefinite hibernation’, not interacting with the material world yet not fully removed from it either. Some revere their Aeon enough to die for them, others despise them enough to dedicate everything to their destruction; neither side makes sense.

To you, the Aeons feel almost as distant as the stars.

“Can it really be considered a sin if it’s beyond your control?”

“It won’t always be,” he replies. “Until then, I can’t allow myself to forget. You must get why.”

You wish you didn’t.

A few moments pass. They flow into each other smoothly, lacking acidity. You resume drinking your tea. It’s lukewarm, but you don’t mind.

“You truly aren’t afraid of me,” you remark.

“What’s there to be afraid of?”

The deep bass of his voice temporarily adjusts to allow bemusement. It takes you a moment to realize he isn’t mocking you, it’s more teasing than anything. The reminder does serve you well. Physically, the gap in your strength is insurmountable. He could snuff out your life before you realized your appointment with death had been expedited.

“Most people are put off by my company in a casual setting. Being around someone who could peer into your mind, past all the pretenses we work so diligently to build… it’s frightening. Unnatural, even.”

He focuses on the abyssal horizon. It’s as if your Aeon swaddled this planet in a pitch-black blanket with the four moons acting as a nursery mobile. You can reach up to grasp them as much as you’d like, but the cosmic entities will never be yours. It is you who belongs to them.

“My mind has a will of its own,” Blade tells you. “It’s loud. Something about you quiets it down.”

You blink. “Really?”

He stares at you blankly instead of repeating himself. You take it that’s his way of communicating he has no reason to be dishonest.

“This affliction you’re suffering from… it’s called mara, correct?”

The instant the word leaves your lips, his demeanor shifts. It’s subtle, the tightening of his muscles and his frown deepening, yet the physical signs aren’t what tip you off. The pervasive air shrouding the beast inside his psyche is twitching. It longs to permanently rid Blade of control and loathes each rejection it’s endured.

“I think I saw it. From what I’ve heard, I thought it’d be more self-destructive. Yours, though… how do I put it… it’s vicious, but it’s like a muzzle has been forced on it. I assume Kafka had something to do with that?”

He doesn’t deny your conjecture.

“Hmph, figures it’d be her handiwork. She can poke around in people’s heads, but her techniques are more effective in the short term. It lacks staying power,” you cross your arms. “I wonder why my presence deters your mara.”

“It’s never functioned normally. I’ve long abandoned trying to make sense of it.”

“I can’t accept that,” you huff. “You’ve saved my life twice now. There has to be something useful to be gleaned from this, even if it isn’t a complete cure.”

The groundwork has been laid out. You were able to scrape together enough to give his psyche form, an act that’s no small feat, since he didn’t go through the typical interview process. Initiating physical contact with him was a risk, but you’ve yet to notice any consequences.

While considering the best methods, an epiphany sinks its claws into you.

You bite your lower lip. “I’m— um. Getting ahead of myself. After what happened, I understand if you don’t want me in your head.”

The terms of atonement crafted by your own hands can’t be sufficient penance.

“Multiple influences have fought for control of my mind,” he reveals. Your breath catches in your tightening throat. This isn’t a wound you’ve inflicted, it’s a wound you’ve reopened. Mara’s madness, Kafka’s adjustments; how much tampering has he been subjected to? There have been foreign elements inserted and his original self shifted around, if not removed entirely. His psyche is strung together like fraying patchwork.

You don’t know what to do. Should you apologize again? Leave him be? Form some sort of arrangement where he doesn’t have to interact with you directly?

These frantic thoughts halt when you examine his profile.

Blade isn’t stewing in animosity or grief. He’s simply sitting there, living in the present. Swarming torments don’t caw and peck at him. He isn’t smiling, but his facial features express contentment, the way a laborer would after a toiling day. Flowing with the current instead of struggling against the tide.

“Out of all of them, though,”

The brilliant luster of his eyes takes you hostage.

“Yours… wasn’t so bad.”

Unknown

You’re there, aren’t you?

Unknown

Don’t be shy and ignore my messages.

Unlike some people, I’m busy

Unknown

I assure you I’m busy with various preparations too.

Unknown

Never too busy to check in on my favorite Arbiter though. ♡

Unknown

Did you like the roses?

I would’ve liked them more if they weren’t from you

Unknown

💔

Unknown

So, it’d be different if they were from someone else? Hm… I might get jealous if that’s the case.

It wouldn’t make much of a difference, anyway They’ve already wilted

Unknown

That’s a shame

Unknown

I suppose what I find beautiful doesn’t suit Eris’ climate very well

Unknown

I know you’re not going to respond anymore, so I’ll stop pestering you for now

Unknown

Take good care of yourself, little Miss Arbiter ♡

It’s become a tradition for Lear to join your and Nona’s training sessions. She’s in her highest spirits when the three of you are under the same roof, even if you’re all doing different things. Presently, Lear is replacing Loopy’s hardware with an older operating system. The latest update downloaded automatically and fixed the bug that caused your favorite robot’s premier quality. Having a robot named Loopy who no longer loops is inconceivable.

Since the LOTUS-EATER is closed for the foreseeable future, you accepted Nona’s idea to have her training on the first floor rather than the second. According to her, The Lounge has ‘distracting’ vibes, so you hoped a change in scenery might recenter her.

However, you’re beginning to seriously question your judgment.

“Lear, can I please have a drink?”

“Lear, don’t pay her any mind. She needs to be sober during her training.”

“Sobriety is a concept invented by the prohibitionists!”

Lear’s attention darts between you, standing imposingly with your arms crossed, then to Nona, who mimes what she must think to be a sympathetic countenance.

“Um…” he trails off. Unable to withstand the immovable object and unstoppable force, he retreats to the motherboard he’s been working on. “I’m technically not on the clock, so I shouldn’t handle merchandise that doesn’t belong to me.”

Nona wads up a piece of paper and throws it at him.

It misses.

By a lot.

“Stop pestering Lear and take your assignment seriously,” you frown. Then you realize what paper she used as ammunition. “Hold on… don’t tell me you just crumpled up and threw correspondence from Chrysus.”

She shrugs. “That discount hound probably didn’t have anything worthwhile to say, anyway.”

“Is Eris’ future not ‘worthwhile?’”

“Not if we hop on a spaceship and never look back.”

Lear sets his tools aside, unfurls the letter, then returns it to you. Nona sticks her tongue out at him and he flips her off.

… Maybe you need a drink.

“Hey, Stellaron Hunter,” Nona waves her arms wildly. “You must have a ship, right? How about it? Got room for three more? It wouldn’t even disrupt the arrangement. You can keep watch over [First] to your heart’s content.”

The ‘Stellaron Hunter’ in question has stationed himself on a barstool, where he blatantly ignores Nona’s request. He had been standing against a far wall as you’ve learned he’s apt to do, but this made you feel bad. After some needling, he caved and sat down at your behest. It’s been a little over a week since your conversation on the balcony. Your free time since then has been sparse. An injury doesn’t make your work disappear, it just causes it to pile up higher.

In light of what Chrysus deems a terrorist attack, you are to have a hearing with him and Caicias. Blade staunchly refused any request for you to meet them in person. For once, you agreed with the strict measures. The nectar guide has been repaired, but the mere chance that more people could be injured at another attempt on your life is unacceptable. After some bureaucratic back and forth, it was agreed upon that the risk of a cyberattack would be the lesser of two evils.

Chrysus insisted on handwritten correspondence delivered through trustworthy sources until the hearing. The message Nona flung consisted of him tiptoeing around every serious query you’ve brought to his attention. Your most burning question concerns the residential district’s building inspections. More specifically, how the dire reports never made their way to you.

Initially, you thought it may have fallen through the cracks. Your mother’s sudden death two years prior plunged Thelx into chaos. She wasn’t expected to retire for another fifty years. As such, you were woefully underprepared for the mantle forced onto you. She hadn’t even told you the passcode to unlock the LOTUS-EATER’s front doors. Data restoration from some old hardware she never disposed of provided enough login information for you to keep things rolling. That theory crumbled when you recalled that in 2150 AE, building permits and inspections were made to be public records.

Upon checking, from 2150 AE to the present, everything has supposedly been up to code.

The employee who signed off on the inspections is under an Ade company, which falls outside your jurisdiction.

You wrote to Chrysus detailing your concerns. His response can best be summarized as him telling you that he’ll handle it.

That did little to put your doubts to rest.

“I’m telling you, this is impossible,” Nona grumbles. “Can you reset it?”

“I’ve already reset it four times.”

“Well, you know, fifth time’s the charm.”

You’ve lost track of how many times you’ve sighed throughout this training.

“Let’s not give up so soon, okay? Which part do you feel is impossible?”

You sit down beside her to get a better look. The blue, holographic screen fills you with nostalgia. This program was developed by a retired Arbiter to aid in their training. Essentially, it generates a ‘person’ with traits indistinguishable from their flesh and blood counterparts. Physiology, disposition, every experience they’ll go through from birth to death; it misses no detail.

The trainees are supposed to go through the steps as if they were interacting with a client. They must establish a link by piecing together the simulated psyche, giving it an interactable form.

Nona’s a rare case. Most Arbiters struggle with establishing and maintaining Synalinks, an area she excels at. It’s the first step that presents an issue. She has a difficult time establishing links. It’s a foundational part of the process that can’t be haphazard.

“He’s so whiny. He’s a bigshot vocalist, traveling around the galaxy to sold-out shows, and he still complains that no one will ever ‘understand’ him or his art when even he doesn’t get it! He’s just coming up with fake deep lyrics.”

“Did you look at the childhood fragments? For insecurity, that’s a good place to start.”

“Oh, don’t get me started on that,” she grimaces as if she bit into something sour. “He came from old money. Opera star for a mom and a successful businessman for a dad. He wanted for nothing. But no, apparently he still needs to change his profile picture to black and the about section to ‘gone’ whenever he wants attention.”

You pull up a critical childhood fragment. “Here you can see his father leaving a recital early to take a phone call. Then, after the performance, his mother is quick to point out the areas he needs to work on.”

“So? He was screwing around on his phone during his singing lessons, what did he expect?”

“Consider what happens when his tutor leaves. His face falls and he’s fighting back tears. He’s acting out to get the attention his parents don’t give him. The tutor is older and in a position of power, which makes him a perfect surrogate.”

“That happened when he was six, though. He’s had decades to get over it.”

“Even if that were true, it wouldn’t make a difference. A person’s experiences are real to them. Say I think there’s a hidden compartment in my bedroom due to the wall making a peculiar noise. I have lived my entire life believing this. If you saw that fragment while trying to piece my psyche together, then dispute it because you know there’s no hidden compartment, there’d be disunity. Every belief, no matter how small, connects in a complex web. Why did I make that inference? Did I read it in a book? Did my mother scare me into following curfew by saying a secret monster hiding there would get me if I stayed up too late? The mind is a fragile thing and we must treat it as such.”

Nona puts her hands up. “Alright, alright, geez. Make sense of the events through their lens, not mine. Got it.”

Unexpectedly, it’s Lear who speaks up next.

“What would happen if those fragments were altered?”

You place a hand on your chin. “It’d depend on the fragment’s importance. In the example I gave, it’d cause friction in maintaining a link, but it wouldn’t fundamentally change everything I’ve ever known. As for a fragment more significant, well… I’m not sure.”

“You aren’t?”

“Without credible data to pull from, I’d only be speculating.”

A frigid draft whirrs through. You shiver.

“You’re better at this than I am, Lear. Wanna switch places?” Nona asks.

Lear stands up, his palm covering his mouth. It’s as if the vitality has been drained from his face. He transitions through multiple expressions, each more agonized than the last. Your heart twists violently against your ribcage. You want to call out to him, comfort him, but there’s no combination of words that’d douse the raging fire.

Is it happening again? You think. No… this has to be the worst one yet!

It’s before you again.

A simple stage in a modest auditorium.

There are no performers or stagehands. The lights in the theater are dim, the chairs are folded up. Pamphlets clutter the ground in disorganized heaps. Looking up, you realize they’re falling from the rafters like rain. One lands by your feet. You pick it up, squinting to make sense of the words. It’s a playbill advertising a show titled The Idiot.

Directed by

ANIA PHAEALES

THE CAST

(In order of appearance)

The Servant…………………………………………………………………………..UNNAMED

The Fool…………………………………………………………………..…………..UNNAMED

The Coward…………………………………………………………………………...UNNAMED

On and on the list goes, ascribing every unflattering role to an unknown party.

Mother’s name is here? Why? Was she that influential over Lear?

Spotlights flick on. Hot streams of light illuminate you in a blinding assault, which you try to block with your hands. The light’s intensity overpowers your meager attempts. A spectral crowd cheers, rousing applause and whistles emanating from empty chairs. Champagne glasses clink, men guffaw deep from their diaphragms, and women shriek like banshees.

It gets hotter and louder, again, then once more; suffocating you in a cacophony of sensory stimuli.

The audience makes passing comments.

“... A shame, it couldn’t work out…”

“Though what did they expect, truly…”

“... Know how it is…”

The finale rings crystal clear.

“Some people born will die never knowing love.”

A wet, metallic-smelling substance drips from your nose. The softness of a rag replaces this feeling. It remains there, tickling your senses. There’s that floral scent again — subtle and pleasant. The flower it’s derived from may be toxic, but the strands of vermillion that curl outward like spider legs look so inviting. The petals are streams of blood frozen by time. Every time they wither, they’re forced to bloom again, perpetuating a cycle from which there’s no escape.

You’ve seen sunsets in pictures. There are two of them glaring down at you now, circular, as if viewed through a looking glass.

“How pretty,” your words blur together. “‘ve always to see… a sunset…”

You never will, though. Eris is far, far away from any brilliant stars. The aloof night sky will be your lullaby and your dirge.

Sluggishly, you sit up. You’re on one of the nice leather couches in The Club. A headache thumps in your head like a landlord who raps against the door of a tenant late with rent. You’re about to stand when an authoritative voice stops you.

“Stay still.”

You open your mouth to protest. Blade must know your demeanor when you intend to be petulant, for he cuts you off.

“That wasn’t a request.”

You murmur something incomprehensible and melt back into the cushion. Regardless of your obedience, Blade stands close, as if you’re planning to bolt, trip on an uneven floor panel, then hit your head and die instantly. Glancing around, you note no one else is here.

He follows your eyes and accurately surmises your intentions. “The quiet one ran out and the noisy one ran after him.”

Any other time, that deadpan delivery mixed with his personal interpretation of Lear and Nona would’ve made you laugh. Presently, though, you’re fighting off a headache that outclasses every other that’s come before it. Top of the class and then some. It helps to know that Lear won’t be alone. Why exactly he experienced such an intense emotional eruption is a mystery to you. Then there’s the chaotic state of his psyche to consider; if you were disoriented from the aftershocks, the epicenter must’ve been cataclysmic.

You’re so swept up in your thoughts, that it takes you a while to notice how Blade’s been staring at you. This in and of itself is nothing new. He’s been your shadow ever since forced this arrangement. It irritated you at first, but that blistering offense eased into acceptance. His vigilance felt befitting of a guard. Taking in your surroundings, assessing any threats; such is his prerogative.

How he’s eyeing you now feels different. It’s as if he’s looking through you, not at you.

“Is something wrong? You’re making such a scary expression,” you joke.

No visual reaction.

“I’m waiting for your explanation.”

“About…?”

Blade doesn’t bother hiding his displeasure. He glowers down at you, the difference in your height further exacerbated because you’re sitting down.

The impromptu staring contest comes to an end when he speaks up, his voice carrying less hostility.

“That idea you proposed,” he begins, moving back to return your personal space, “Are you still willing to try it?”

He has to bring this up now of all times? You don’t want to loudly announce a deeply private matter, especially if there’s a possibility the information will make it back to Kafka. Your best shot is to downplay the severity of what you went through. He might be doing his job, but you don’t want him cordoning off Lear as a precautionary measure. You don’t blame Lear in the slightest — this punishment is appropriate for your past hubris.

“Of course.”

“I accept your offer.”

Ah, you think. So this is the game he’s going to play.

“In that case… when should we get started?”

You can guess his next sentence before it comes out.

“I’m ready whenever you are.”

Nona

hey hey

Nona

we’re all good here

Nona

lear’s quiet but he’s doing better. he keeps apologizing

Nona

i thanked him for causing a scene and getting me out of class

Nona

he kinda maybe let out a sound like a laugh

Nona

i’ll be hanging with him until things simmer down a bit more

Nona

man. i have to say though. sword guy had the most abominable vibes when it all went down

Nona

i yelled at him that if he hurt lear you would turn his mind into goop

Nona

soooo if you wouldn’t mind please tell him that was a joke and that i don’t deserve to get stabbed on sight.

Nona

anyway. take care of yourself. call me when you feel up to it

It took three hours, a couple of painkillers, and more glasses of water than you cared to count to be ‘ready.’

You change into formal garments, consisting of an ivory gown that flows down to your feet, and a chiffon, indigo cloak that encases you from your shoulders to your knees. You fasten the heavy fabric into place with a broach your mother wore when she served as the Exalted Arbiter. It shows different stages of a moon, connected by four silver spokes. The highest point is the first quarter moon; to the right, the hollow outline of a new moon; the lowest point, the last quarter moon; then lastly, the full moon is to the left.

Blade sits across from you in the chair designated for clients. He’s silent as you make your preparations, his eyes following you like a haunted painting. His ulterior motives are irrelevant. Inside this room, you’ve carried out your work as an Arbiter hundreds, if not thousands of times. You’ve heard the most clandestine fantasies that wouldn’t even be uttered on a deathbed. Devoid of judgment, you’ve filled your mind with the overflowing desires of their heart, careful not to lose a single drop.

“Are you comfortable?”

He nods.

“Good. Let me know if you need anything.”

An ornate tea kettle made from Eris’ dark stone sits atop the Nectary’s gemstone. It’s bronze in color and emits a warm, calming glow. Once the water inside is brought to a boil, you pour it into an opal goblet. Next, you add ambrosia leaves that have been ground into a fine powder. It sizzles upon contact with the water. Finally, you procure a vial from a pouch inside your clothes. Four drops of the Necatary’s tonic descend into the concoction.

“I’ve seen you drink this before,” Blade notes.

“Now you’ll get to try. Don’t worry, it isn’t poisoned.”

It could be the low lighting and exhaustion, but you swear you see his lips curl upward.

“Add however much you please. My only condition is that it works permanently.”

“It’s a tempting offer. Sadly, I have to drink after you. Maybe another time.”

After stirring the ambrosia, you hand the goblet to him. His eyes remind you of burning embers. Their radiance fascinates you. You shift in your seat, suddenly conscious of yourself. Has his gaze always held this weight? When he pulls the goblet away, you notice the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows, how there’s a pretty sheen coating his lips.

Where is this onslaught coming from? Why couldn’t it have waited until later?

You hurriedly take a sip from the goblet. Noct’s ichor tastes sweet and spicy.

It’s tradition to repeat an incantation so as to invoke your slumbering Aeon’s blessing. You’re about to say it, when there’s a cool, smooth sensation against the corner of your lips. Every muscle in your body goes taut as if you’ve been turned to stone by some wicked spell.

Blade’s gloved finger ghosts over your skin.

He’s leaning over, still sitting down, close enough that you can see your reflection in his eyes. You see how high your eyebrows have raised, the ‘o’ shape of your mouth.

“B-Blade?” Your voice comes out like a squeak.

He says nothing. Goosebumps litter your skin, the hairs on the back of your neck stand. Your heart is a ferocious war drum. Whether it’s sounding an alarm or an invitation, you cannot tell. A beast made in your image has life breathed into it. You thought you slayed it, watched the light drain from its beady eyes, but it’s resuscitating.

Then again, maybe you’re a fool for thinking lust can stay dead.

He sinks back into his seat, completely impassive, acting like what he did carried no significance.

“Some of the drink got on you,” he explains, entirely nonchalant. “I cleaned it off.”

Being thrown into a furnace wouldn’t compare to the heat ensnaring your body.

You cough into your hand. “Oh, yeah, that’s— thank you.”

The awkward jumble of words flounders out before you can stop them. Your lessons in etiquette and oration have hidden themselves, somewhere beyond accessibility, scurrying to the shadows like mice when a cat approaches. If you were to make a list of your dumbest statements, this would make it far in the rankings.

This time, you’re certain of it. That little smirk. Maybe he’s getting back at you for withholding information earlier.

Whatever the case, you have a goal you’re determined to see through. You resume the incantation, although your voice lacks assertiveness.

“To dream is a sacred thing. Don’t fear it. Welcome it, rejoice in it, and shed no tears when it is finished. We’ve been granted your purest blessing. As you slumber, we find rest in you. Allow us the sweetest of dreams.”

You close your eyes…

… And when you reopen them, the Shackling Prison looms above you.

This link is far more stable than its predecessor. There’s no ticking timer hurrying you along, you’re free to examine every nook and cranny. You notice how desaturated your surroundings are. The blades of grass closest to the prison blend in with the stone, the only hit belying their true nature being how they sway in the breeze. There isn’t any vegetation or ambiance that suits the surrounding environment. Birds don’t sing, rushing rivers are silent, and bugs refuse to perform their melodies.

Nothing regresses or progresses; he’s wedged in a constant state of inertia. Your heart aches.

You make your way to the impenetrable gates. After thinking about it, you hypothesized the seal you previously encountered was an emergency defense he unknowingly created. At that exact moment, Blade didn’t want you puppeteering him. He may be enigmatic, but what you know for certain is that he takes his assignments seriously. The Stellaron Hunters want you alive so he has to as well.

That’d explain why it acted hostile to your interference. You’ve never established a link in such a high-stakes, volatile setting. You were bound to encounter oddities of some fashion. This explanation reassures you as you get closer.

Only to ruthlessly get debunked.

The seal is still here. It’s styled in the outline of a circle, overlapping the doors that keep you from studying Blade’s mara. Frustration floods you. This can’t be Blade’s handiwork. The one comparison is how it emanates steady energy, similar to how he is in a meditative state. The similarities stop there.

It's grown paler, you realize. Its potency has waned since I’ve last seen it, too.

To test this, you push against it.

The gates creak back.

This gap lets you steal a glance at Blade’s mara. It consists of multiple tumor-like abscesses that writhe against each other, forming a pulsating, fleshy mass. This ebullition isn’t consistent. Different sections have a will of their own. Some try consuming their adversary, others suffocate what’s beneath through their bulk alone. The horror extends down into a pit whose depth you couldn’t possibly guess. Killing, devouring, gorging, and digesting; only to experience a rebirth that will perpetuate the cycle.

It pushes against the windows and seeps into the structure’s cracks, of which you count many. The mara’s repairing him, vigilant in its upkeep. It is a ghastly glue holding fractured pieces that long for respite together.

Your intrusion causes it to gurgle and retract. The mara doesn’t break down or weaken, it gradually oozes down like bile in an esophagus.

The seal repels you, cutting your grotesque investigation short.

The last thing you see before the gates slam shut is the mara reclaiming its territory.

…

Blade’s fully conscious while you need some time to refamiliarize yourself with your surroundings. Your head raises its thunderous complaints about how it’s being overused lately. You down a cup of water, careful not to get any on your lips, so your earlier weakness isn’t repeated.

“Alright. Let me get my thoughts together,” You take a deep breath, then continue, “I only caught a glimpse of your mara. It did retreat after noticing my presence, although I’m not sure why.

Blade doesn’t say anything. You’re beginning to get used to that.

“And another thing. I didn’t think it was worth mentioning, since everything about our previous link was messy… but this time and the last, there’s this seal preventing me from going deeper. Do you have any idea what that’s about?”

“You’re the expert here.”

That must mean he doesn’t.

“Hah. I’m starting to wonder about that.”

You don’t mean to sound so defeated. You have some years under your belt — 120, to be exact — but you’ve realized how many areas you’re lacking in. Nymphalians live anywhere from 500 to 700 years. Your mother was 200 when she’d been anointed as Eris’ new Exalted Arbiter. She tried stamping out the quiet pride your prodigious abilities instilled in you. All it did was form a gaping chasm neither of you ever tried to mend.

You have the materials now, but it’s too late. There’d be no one waiting on the other side once you crossed.

Blade leans forward, presses his elbows to his knees, and rests his chin on his fists.

“Would it help if you touched me?”

You shoot up straight from your chair like it just stabbed you. Heat infuses into your cheeks, then spreads throughout, momentarily stupefying you. His monotonous words loop in your head. How can he sit there so collected after making an insinuation like that?! Especially when you’re not at your top performance.

“That’s highly inna—”

“You avoid skin-to-skin contact,” he interrupts, his visage unreadable. “The one time you didn’t, you made it far.”

It’s a mistake to underestimate his perspicacity just because he doesn’t actively flaunt it.

“What did you think I meant?”

Why can’t his voice have a little more intonation? If he’s being playful, his delivery is too dry for you to tell.

“Nothing, nothing at all,” you sit back down and cross your legs in an attempt to look professional. “What you’re referring to is a precaution my mother suggested. In the past, strange reactions have occurred after I came into direct contact with someone. Not always, though. No one could determine the how or why.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Honestly… you Stellaron Hunters should’ve just waterboarded me, you would’ve gotten this information faster, if that’s the objective here.”

“Lie if you want.”

“I don’t want to lie to you,” you admit. He knits his eyebrows together, an act that accentuates the dark lines beneath his eyes. “You deserve to understand what I did. If I hadn’t resorted to that, it’d be different.”

“Hm.”

No one can ever claim Blade doesn’t have a way with words.

Suppressing a yawn, you refocus the conversation. “I think we made some good progress here. I’m willing to keep at it if you are.”

“No. That’s enough for now,” he says. “Go rest.”

“Eh? I can keep going, though.”

“I know. Rest anyway.”

Your body is letting you know that it’s finished, your exhaustion has crossed the semi-tolerable threshold to unbearable. There’s a hearing to prepare for, Nona and Lear to reach out to, and about another million odds and ends. This flurry of activity won’t get done any faster if you’re crawling around like a host controlled by a parasite.

“... Fine, have it your way. Lear’s always getting on me about my sleeping habits too.”

You sense an irregular fluctuation from him. However, there’s no shift in his body language, so you decide it isn’t your place to pry.

“Blade?”

He turns his head toward you.

“This ability of mine, it’s only ever provided entertainment for others, which is fine, of course… but… the chance to help someone directly… is a first,” you give him a bashful smile. “Thank you for trusting me. I mean it.”

For a brief moment, his gaze doesn’t feel so intense.

Nona

hey hey

Nona

please tell me the sword guy didn’t confiscate your phone. if that’s the case it’s so over

Nona

i’m not going up against him to get it back

It’s me texting from [First]’s phone. I remember what you said about the brain goop. Lock your windows and sleep with one eye open.

Nona

!!!

Nona

oh btw. the dust has settled

Nona

it’s weird… this doesn’t happen for years, then suddenly, twice in such close succession?

Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that too I don’t get it

Nona

welcome back from being held hostage btw

Wow thank you

Let me know if you both need anything I actually have no idea how I haven’t passed out yet

Nona

it’s because you haven’t given mushroom mania a chance. their music is so chill

Nona is typing…

Please don’t spam the link to their album again

Nona

alright fine whatever

Nona

i am bored though if you want to play connect four hmu

Nona has invited you to play Connect Four™©®.

Nona

[first]? come back my queen

Nona

wow you fell asleep fast </3

Nona

rest up. you deserve it

There are two monitors in front of you.

To the left is a man with a graceful physiognomy — Chrysus Ophídion. He has hair white as snow, pulled back into a long ponytail that stops at his lower back. His eyes are sharp, cunning, hidden behind thin glasses that reflect his monitor’s shine. He’s already asked you the questions courtesy demands, such as your health and how the LOTUS-EATER is faring during the IPC travel ban.

“It’s nothing but a power play,” he had reassured you. “I’ve had productive negotiations with their chief financial officer, he’s insinuated that a proposal to remedy the dispute isn’t far off.”

While you’d often be remiss to take Chrysus at his word, there is one sacred objective he’ll never work against — money.

He isn’t exactly subtle. His office’s backdrop is a hulking conglomerate; a screen that shows everything from graphs of Eris’ most prominent businesses to stocks throughout the universe updating in real-time. There must be around a hundred different squares dedicated to this flashing panoply. Before Chrysus’ repurposing, it was a wide window from which one could view Eris’ mountain range to the northeast. Your mother detested the change and the room itself.

Then to the right, there’s Caicias Rex. He’s a burly, bearded man, with dark hair going silver from age. Rumors have been circulating that he’ll announce his retirement on his 500th birthday. Between the two, you prefer dealing with him. Caicias isn’t verbose or prickly. If anything, he’s a little too brazen.

“How are you holding up, little Miss Arbiter?”

Caicias’ gravelly voice is at a deafening volume, made worse by the fact you’re using in-ears. His microphone peaks at its own leisure.

“Caicias, please, your microphone,” Chrysus grits out whilst wincing, “Did you not have your assistant set it up beforehand as I suggested?”

You both take out your in-ears before he responds. It’s loud enough that you can hear what he’s saying even while holding them far away.

“Oh, the dial’s screwed up. Alright. There. Any better?”

You put your in-ears back on. “I believe so.”

“Great! Let me repeat myself then. Are you feeling any better? Ready to do all that mind magic stuff?”

“I’m doing much better, thank you. If you’re referring to my capacity to establish links, I haven’t encountered any issues so far.”

Caicias takes a moment to respond. “That way of speaking, your posture… you’re the spitting image of Ania.”

The call falls silent. While you’re thinking of something to say, Chrysus takes the initiative himself.

“May Noct grant her blissful rest,” he repeats the platitude you heard spoken aplenty at your mother’s funeral. “I apologize for changing the topic so abruptly, but there’s a sensitive matter at hand to discuss. I ask that you both listen until I’m finished without any interjections.”

Sensitive? What could he possibly mean by that?

You feel a churning in your soul.

“Thank you. As you’re both well aware, the position of Ade’s Exalted Regent isn’t limited to operating as Eris’ primary treasurer. Caicias and the belated Ania Phaeales agreed to my proposal to form a coalition that’d combat Eris’ uptick in crime decades prior. The coalition has seen great success.

With Miss Phaeales injured and Mister Rex preoccupied with investigating hazardous mining conditions in the Nectary, I was appointed head of the Thelx nectar guide bombing investigation. My team and I have spared no resources in uncovering the culprits behind such a senseless act of violence.

Initially, we turned our attention toward the IPC. At this point, we’ve found nothing to implicate them. On the contrary, evidence from the preliminary investigation suggests the involvement of Arc citizens. I am well aware of the prejudice certain people have against those who come from Arc, so I wanted to be absolutely certain. You’ll both receive digital copies of the documented evidence, but for the purpose of this hearing, I’ll focus on the most relevant evidence.

Through data restoration and witness accounts, two main suspects have been identified. Felix Laurence, a nectar guide engineer who was granted Thelx citizenship by Ania Phaeales, and his nephew, Ryker Laurence, unemployed. A standard employee-issued passcode assigned to Felix accessed the NGT, or Nectar Guide Terminal, three cycles prior to the incident. Logs show he spent considerable time eyeing the schedule of the cycle when Miss Phaeales was to depart.

Felix’s co-workers have corroborated that he offered to take their shifts, as the trip was scheduled on a cycle he doesn’t work. His offer was accepted by the second person he asked. Audio logs recorded in the common area corroborate this. Surveillance places Felix’s arrival at 0100 hours, where he claimed that an emergency malfunction notice was sent to his pager. The NGT confirms no such notice was issued.

The fragments recovered from the explosive device show it to be the kind that activates on contact, which simplifies the installation process. Felix is seen returning at 0112. Co-workers report he seemed ‘unlike himself’ and was drenched in sweat. Miss Phaeales’ cabin departed at 0200, the tragedy occurred at 0223. A reconstruction of the device reveals a minor malfunction that delayed the device’s detonation, a blessing from Noct, I’m sure.

The Laurence residence was promptly raided, where materials matching those inside the explosive crime were located. Testimonies from those who know Ryker attest to his hobby of making strange contraptions that never work as intended. I have personnel ready to detain Felix and his co-conspirator Ryker at a moment’s notice, in compliance with Eris’ No Involuntary Confinement Act, where they’ll be extradited to Arc unless they make an appeal.”

The pictures of the two suspects take up Chrysus’ screen. Caicias strokes his beard while viewing them, whereas you remain motionless. You remember the name Felix Laurence. You attended the event where his special citizenship was awarded, some twenty years ago. What could have driven him to this? Where did you fall short? If it was your mother in charge, would things have gone differently? Chrysus, Caicias, Kafka… none of them take you seriously. They consider you a child playing make pretend.

Is that not what you are?

Mother would’ve held her own if Kafka tried coercing her.

She would’ve found out about the building inspection dilemma through her own channels.

Blade’s seal, his mara — she would’ve helped him better than you ever could.

But she can’t. She’s gone and you’ll never be her.

“I understand it’s a lot to take in,” Chrysus states. It doesn’t sound like he means it. “In truth, the account I gave is highly summarized. I felt I owed it to Miss Phaeales before I arrived at my next point.”

“... What do you mean by that?” You ask.

“It became clear to me that an investigation like this couldn’t be limited in scope. For instance, how did Felix know Miss Phaeales was due to use the nectary guide at that specific cycle and that specific time? As I said earlier, he accessed the NGT, but your name isn’t visible there. Only the Director of Operations knows when you’re set to travel. All Felix would’ve been able to see is that a private cabin was scheduled to leave at 0200, which isn’t a rare occurrence.”

“Please place aside certain biases to the best of your ability,” he says. “Ryker’s correspondence these past two years showed some red flags. Specifically, he had frequent correspondence with an unknown person whose IP was traced back to the LOTUS-EATER. These conversations were largely written in code, but from what we’ve decrypted, this unknown person has been leaking information about you and Ania Phaeales. Based on available information, it’s highly likely that this unknown person is who you refer to as ‘Nona.’”

Caicias closes his eyes and exhales.

“That… that’s absurd,” your voice is weaker than a breeze. “There’s no way I’ll accept a baseless accusation like this.”

“Allow me to once again request that you place aside your bias. Nona, whose birth name is unknown, was born and raised in Arc’s most hostile faction. At the self-reported age of 74, she submitted a request for Thelx citizenship. Your mother, in her benevolence, granted the request due to seeing Nona’s potential as a future Arbiter. Do you deny any of this?”

You think you might be sick.

“... No,” you grit out.

“Why would she suddenly abandon an extremist group and request citizenship in Thelx, a quadrant they’re especially hateful towards? Or, did this faction see an opportunity in Nona, who was widely known to have a talent close to yours in establishing Synalinks?”

“Little Nona is what, 113 now? That’s a long time to be acting as a double agent,” Caicias points out.

“Can indoctrination like that ever be fully deprogrammed?” Chrysus challenges.

Your horror gives way to an icy rage.

“If you’re determined to pursue this ‘lead’, so be it, I guarantee my staff and I will fully cooperate. That doesn’t mean you can implicate one of my Arbiters for such a serious offense with nothing but circumstantial evidence.”

Chrysus sighs. “I’m sorry you see it that way. You’re right that there’s no direct evidence yet — I bring this up to err on the side of caution. It’d deal a severe blow to Eris if anything happened to the Phaeales bloodline. Is it at least fair to say that out of everyone at the LOTUS-EATER, Nona would be one of the most familiar with your itinerary? Did you tell her about your trip to Perianth II?”

You draw your lips in a thin line. You had told her.

“Alright, Chrysus, this isn’t an interrogation. This is Ania’s daughter you’re talking to,” Caicias frowns.

Ania’s daughter, huh?

“... You’re right. I just wish to ensure Miss Phaeales’ safety. I got ahead of myself.”

“There are better approaches. Let’s call it for now. We won’t get anywhere bickering like this,” Caicias says. He steeples his fingers and looks directly into the camera. “Have your men keep watch on those two. We’ll meet back again in a cycle; that should give us enough time to flip through all these documents you’re sending.”

This suggestion is for your sake and you all know it. Caicias has good intentions, but you’ll never earn the respect necessary for a leader if you back down now. You imagine you’re preparing to establish a link. The steps it entails, how your mind must surrender its solid form.

“It’s alright, Mister Rex. I can keep going,” you reassure with a smile. Your cadence has lost its vibrato and transitions into a steady timbre. Every dissonant note is scratched out to recite the sheet music lying before you. If you’re to get through this, it’ll be the performance of a lifetime.

“Hm… are you sure?” Caicias asks. He squints, trying to get a better read on you through the screen.

You consider a conductor’s baton, how it glides through the air, commanding absolute obedience from its orchestra. Your heart, your lungs, the feeling of static buzzing in your head; you demand a decrescendo.

You might not be your mother, but you can play in the same key.

“I am. Mister Ophídion, would you please go over everything from the beginning without paraphrasing? There’s a great deal to examine.”

You’re occupying a space between reality and fantasy.

Cogency of any kind flees from you. Chasing after it has become tiring, a prospect that instills dread. There’s no affliction worse than uncertainty. You envy fortunate fools who can cling to a belief from their first breath to their last, what a blessing it must be to never reside in doubt’s shadow.

You don’t know what to think, what to feel, what to do.

Chrysus had an explanation for everything. The file he’s built up on Nona? That’s standard procedure, anyone in such close quarters with you must be vetted. The employee who signed off on an unsafe building? A full investigation will be conducted, you need only be patient. Why hadn't he contacted you sooner about any of this? He didn’t want to risk any leaks that’d tip off the enemy before he was prepared.

You don’t know what was worse. Being treated like an idiot by Chrysus or a sniveling child by Caicias.

Ripping your mother’s broach off, you walk over to the balcony’s edge and raise your arm.

The inky night spreads out like paint spilled across a canvas. This is the only view you’ve had throughout the years — a cold void that never wanted to host life. The nameless planet must’ve counted itself fortunate to have been passed up by settlers. No one will ever want to settle here, it had thought. I will make my surface so terrible that those who come here will certainly die.

You lower your arm. The broach is set on a table you subsequently push out of sight.

In a way, this balcony is your cell. You’ve sat here and contemplated freedom as any inmate would. What would it be like to feel the sun? Does it burn, does it sting? Is it true that you shouldn’t stand in it for long? What about the sunrise? How lovely it must be for such a sight to be there every morning, greeting you with its gentle colors and soft edges.

You hug your legs to your chest and rest your head on your knees.

The door behind you opens without warning.

You don’t need to look to know who it is. You can pick up on his taciturn presence without trying. It’s inevitable, so long as you’ve been exposed to a person enough.

Blade’s footsteps make no sound, he’s almost like a levitating wraith. You assume he’ll take his place on the leftmost chair. It's become an unspoken ritual. Those who have experienced the sun are ever so enchanted by the moon, he’s no different. Rather than sitting down, however, he lingers behind you. You can feel him staring. After a few seconds, he comes closer, so that he’s beside you.

Wordlessly, he holds out a teacup you’ve never seen. It’s porcelain with a glossy finish, boasting intricate blue designs painted along the sides. The inside contains a bloody ocean that glistens beneath the moonlight. The aroma clues you in — it’s ambrosia, just without the Nectary’s tonic.

“Is this for me?” You whisper, incredulous.

His flat expression seems to communicate, ‘Who do you think it’s for?’

You cradle it in both your hands. Warmth seeps through and becomes acquainted with your skin. Likewise, the steam wafts up, tickling your nose. It’s as if the drink is a pocket watch and you’ve been hypnotized.

Once it’s secure in your grasp, he pulls back.

Then he starts to walk away.

He’s leaving? Why is he leaving?

Your body springs up of its own accord. You balance the teacup in one hand and reach out to him with the other, your fingers fanning out, ready to sink into whatever they can. Everything happens in the blink of an eye. Your free hand succeeds in finding a destination — settling on the abrasive finish of his bandages.

You feel another texture alongside it.

It’s smooth, cold, and visible through the interstices of his winding bandages.

His skin.

Realizing this, you withdraw your hand in panic. Then you wait, bracing yourself for a brutal rebound. What horrors could a mind like his prepare for you? Would it cross the threshold of mental anguish to physical harm? You squeeze your eyes shut.

When you find the courage to reopen them, there’s nothing abominable waiting with bated breath to drag you through a mental purgatory.

Instead of a consequence, there’s only Blade, fixed in place. He hasn’t moved an inch.

You’re okay. Nothing’s wrong.

You let out a relieved sigh.

“Let me at least get the words thank you out,” you insist, desperate to refocus his attention. “I… thank you. You don’t have to be… in such a rush…?”

There’s a beat of silence.

Much to your chagrin, Blade takes your teacup by the rim and lifts it. You tilt your head. Did he… did he just repossess your drink? That’s a low blow.

“You were about to drop it,” Blade deadpans. “Quit pouting.”

“Wh—?! I’m not pouting!”

He raises an eyebrow.

To think you went through all that anxiety for this.

“You Stellaron Hunters are the worst,” you grumble.

“Hm.”

Fed up beyond measure, you spin on your heel and start walking back to your chair. You deserve an uninterrupted night of listening to depressing music while thinking depressing thoughts. It’s your right, having endured so much lately.

“[First].”

A chain reaction goes off in your chest. You’ve made it one measly step away and a blackhole threatens to reel you back. His voice, that deep, resonant tone, stirs something inside you, beckons it out to play. He spoke your name. Has he ever done so before? You don’t know. If someone were to ask you the most basic question right now, you’d be physically incapable of responding.

He doesn’t have to ask you to come back. You do so willingly.

Blade brings the teacup back down to your height. Confusingly, he doesn’t return it to your hands, nor does he give any indication that he plans on doing so. He’s holding it level to your face. You want to ask what it is he wants from you. It’s best to have everything out in the open, so that no misconceptions arise, and yet, that rational thinking presents itself as a nuisance. You don’t want anything to ruin this moment. The ambiguity entices you and holds your soul captive while the key is within reach.

Tentatively, you press your lips to the teacup’s edge.

The emotions teeming inside of him are palpable. They curl around you, these tendrils of unadulterated carnality squirm against your flesh. It isn’t a fair comparison to say you’re playing with fire. No, you’re laying down at an altar as a voluntary sacrifice.

He inclines the teacup toward you.

It’s a harmonic union between saccharine and spice, a robust flavor that leaves your tongue tingling. He rebalances the cup while you swallow your first sip. Pulling back, you look up at him through your eyelashes.

“It’s delicious,” you compliment. In a coquettish act, you wet your lips as if you’d made a mess.

His eyes glow like molten magma.

Slowly, you stand on your tiptoes, both your arms coiling around his neck. You pull him closer and he lets you. Your lips almost connect, only for you to move back at the last second. He tries remedying this by leaning down further. You prove stubborn by dodging him once more. His nostrils flare and he lets out a sound akin to a growl.

“Aw,” you coo, a condescending lilt present. You twist your head to the side and jut out your lower lip. “Who’s pouting now?”

He descends on you like a rabid dog.

His lips are relentless, demanding more and more, driven by a fervor that belies his seemingly apathetic disposition. It isn’t sensual so much as it is voracious. You’re taken aback yet find it titillating all the same. His bandaged hand flies to your nape, then drops lower, following the ridges of your spine. Subconsciously, you arch your back. He shudders at the softness of your chest pressing against him. His hand eventually settles on the back of your thigh, squeezing and grabbing the flesh with blatant greed. Without warning, he hikes your leg up, an act that causes you to temporarily lose your balance.

Blade’s chest rumbles in a low chuckle. The husky sound sends heat straight to your core, you may have left out a debauched noise if your lips hadn’t been preoccupied.

Regardless, you won’t let him off that easily. Who knows what he’ll start to pull if you’re lenient. You pull away and glare at him for the infraction. Considering your messy hair, heaving chest, and swollen lips, you doubt you’re very frightening to one of the universe’s most notorious criminals. The mirth dancing in his eyes confirms this.

“Still you,” he muses.

You release an audible yelp as he effortlessly picks you up. Manhandling you must be a newfound delight of his, his satisfaction is readily apparent. You doubt he’d drop you, but your instincts aren’t allowing the risk — you cling yourself to him for extra security. It occurs to you that both his hands are in use. Recalling the teacup, you glance around, curious about its whereabouts. You find it sitting beside your broach, perfectly intact. Wasn’t he holding it seconds ago?

“How did you do that?”

He grabs your chin and turns your head back to face him.

“Strange, clumsy, and distractible,” he mutters, though not without a certain fondness. “Keep your eyes on me, girl.”

“It’s a legitimate question! Also, hold on,” you jab your fingers at his chest in accusation, “I’m most certainly older than you. Are you familiar with the adage, ‘respect your elders?’”

“Are you?”

“Well, obviously, otherwise I wouldn’t have said it— ohhh.”

He’s gracious enough to wait as you piece everything together. Xianzhou attire, an ability that could reasonably be classified as immortality…

“On second thought, ideas like that are outdated. They perpetuate a cycle of complacency. Respect is earned, not given.”

“At the end of the day, past that haughty exterior…” Blade trails off, his lips nearing your outer earlobe. You swallow while he keeps you in suspense. The pointed tips of his canine teeth drag against the sensitive flesh, sometimes sinking down, only to let up before he leaves behind so much as an indent.

He plays this game for as long as it pleases him and not a moment longer.

Finally, he bites down, almost eliciting a whimper. It takes considerable self-control to hold it in.

“You’re something of a brat, aren’t you?”

He accentuates this remark by grabbing the tips of your hair and tugging them to the side. Not enough to hurt, but enough to give him a canvas to work with. His teeth trail down from your ear to your neck, settling on your racing pulse point. He nibbles at the area just enough to leave behind marks. Meanwhile, your breathing picks up to an erratic pace. You lull your head to the side so that he has unrestricted access. He rewards your obedience with a kiss, soothing the tender area he’s been working on.

Amazing as that feels, you swear you’ll go crazy if you don’t receive more stimulation. Whether or not he’s aware of this, you can’t say for sure, but you do know that he’s taking his sweet time sucking and nibbling the second place you want him most. In this position, there’s little you can do to encourage more friction. It’s too awkward an angle to grind against him, not to mention how damaging that’d be to your ego.

You tighten your grip around his broad shoulders in what you hope to be an obvious tell. When that doesn’t get you anywhere, an agitated noise slips by before you can stop it.

Finally, he pulls back from his assault on your neck. “What?”

How has his voice deepened in pitch?!

“Just— don’t you want to, you know, inside?”

“I don’t know. You’ll have to be clearer.”

This bastard is deliberately toying with you. Huffing, you move back, unsurprised by the sight of supposed neutrality. He might be able to keep his facial expressions in check, but his eyes give him away. There’s no mistaking it. Those are the eyes of a starving beast. The intensity makes you shiver. Whether it’s from primordial fear or lust, there’s no telling. It’s most likely a warped combination of the two.

This is a feeling you could get addicted to.

Your dominant hand rises to cup his cheek. Exhaling a shaky breath, you allow the taut muscles in your face to relax. Your leering gives way to something softer. You familiarize yourself with him, running the pad of your thumb over his cheekbones, then lightly kissing the same cheek. His palms dig into you tighter. Acting as if you have all the time in the world, you pepper his face with featherlight kisses, loosely following a line that ends near his mouth. Finally, having arrived at your spell’s conclusion, you place a chaste kiss on his lips.

You bat your eyelashes in a show of faux coyness.

“Please?”

He audibly swallows.

Testing your limits, you throw in a sly comment. “Don’t you have a soft spot for me?”

Blade scoffs. He doesn’t say anything for or against your claim, but you do notice how the tips of his ears turn red.

“If I’d known this was the best way to deal with you Stellaron Hunters, I would’ve considered doing this with Kafka.”

Blade’s eyes narrow into slits that, realistically, should unsettle you. It does to an extent. Especially considering the maelstrom of heightened emotions swirling around him, and, by extension, you. He’s glowering, sizing you and your intentions up. He lets out a harsh laugh, shaking his head while doing so.

“What a mouth,” he remarks.

Unbothered by the vitriol, you shrug. “You’re the one who told me to speak ‘normally.’”

“My mistake.”

You don’t get to respond — his lips are on yours again. He steps back, somehow mindful enough to input the door’s passcode while never breaking away from you. His tongue doesn’t ask for entry, it demands it. You’re happy to comply. He takes pleasure in ravishing your mouth, tasting the lingering flavors from the gift that brought you to this.

You’re back on a solid surface after he pushes some writing implements to the side. You decide that this will be the one time you allow someone to make a mess of your desk. He urges your legs open with his knee, a request you’re quick to fulfill.

His lung capacity must be otherworldly, you have to give his shoulders a push for him to get the hint. A throaty noise leaves him, expressing his disgruntlement at the prospect of parting. Still, he grants you respite. A thin trail of saliva sees to it that your contact isn’t completely severed.

Blade doesn’t let you recuperate for long. He presses his hard length against your core, creating heavenly friction. You no longer have the means to muffle your noises, which must’ve been his intent. His hands find your hips in a frenzy. He grabs the flesh, pulls you closer, and grinds against your clothed cunt.

It doesn’t take long for you to teeter close to the edge. The guttural noises near your ear, the steady stimulation, his scent, and shameless thirst for you; everything envelops your head in an intoxicating haze. Your problems that stack high into the sky seem so far away. The stress evaporates away, the tension you’ve held in your body dissipating alongside it. He’s doing most of the work for you.

Your peak gets closer, you’re right on the precipice—

—And he stops.

You can’t say you didn’t see it coming. Blade has a penchant for riling you up, delighting in the vivid reactions he gets.

This cruelty earns him a whine.

“You’re awful.”

“And you’re impatient,” is his rebuttal.

“I am,” you agree. You learn that your equilibrium is askew when you get up. After steadying your wobbly legs, you grab his wrist and tug. Your sulking must be more tantalizing than any destination you could take him to. It isn’t until the fifth pull that he relents and follows along. You pull up the lock specifications for your bedroom, inputting that an unregistered person has permission to enter. Your fingers lack the dexterity to complete this adjustment on the first try.

And the second.

And the third.

“Say anything and I’ll… I’ll…”

“You’ll…?” he encourages.

“I’ll practice celibacy,” is your final threat.

“Mhm.”

Your bedroom door opens on the fourth try.

After fiddling with your do not disturb settling, you point to the edge of your bed.

“Sit there.”

He takes off his shoes first then listens to your request. You unfasten your outer cloak. The long fabric falls into your grasp and is put aside. You’re left in nothing but your loungewear, a simple button-up shirt and leggings. Turning around, you anticipate an annoying expression to be sprawled over his face. You even have an insult on standby.

These thoughts crumble into dust.

Blade’s gripping your comforter hard enough for his knuckles to turn bone white. He’s leaning forward, as if ready to pounce, yet lucid enough to exercise some semblance of self-control. He reminds you of a starved animal trapped in a cage, salivating over a piece of meat hanging outside the bars. Goosebumps cover your body. This isn’t simple lust… it’s visceral, some primitive desire too overwhelming to be understood.

You’re the one he’s staring at with this unbridled yearning.

Yes, he’s teased you. Pushed your buttons and riled you up. Not so subtly flaunted the strength that lets him maneuver you like you weigh nothing. You might have status and mastery in your given field, but he’s participated in the annihilation of worlds; the end of civilizations that span back since time immemorial.

He should be the one in charge.

Yet as you stand here, witnessing how he tortures himself by not pouncing on you like he easily could, a thought is planted.

He’d really do anything you asked if it kept this from ending.

The adrenaline rush this realization brings is enough to turn any cognition you still possess off.

Your trembling hands hover above your topmost button. Your mattress dips as he slants forward, his fraying patience almost snapping. You hear the leather of his gloved hand creak from how hard he’s clenching it. You shake your head to deter him. The room’s atmosphere has a headiness to it that renders you breathless. Had you seen this expression without context, you’d think he was in physical agony.

A button is undone for every step you take toward him.

The thin shirt flutters off your shoulders when your knees hit the bed’s edge.

Blade gazes at your body as if he’d find salvation in it.

Since you were planning to relax, you’d discarded your bra earlier. The exposure to the cool air causes your nipples to harden. He can’t settle for ogling any one part of your bare torso, his eyes flitter from your collarbones to your chest, your navel, then back up again. You start bending over. His eyes widen slightly. It takes you a second to find where his mind has wandered off since you were just going to remove your leggings.

“What? Was there something you wanted from me?” You hum.

If looks could kill, you’d be a goner.

You decide he’s suffered enough. Your leggings are thrown aside, you’re past the point of caring to be tidy. You both exhale shakily as you sit your clothed cunt directly over his prominent bulge. Your arousal seeps through your panties and onto his pants; there’ll be no pretending that you aren’t as excited as he is.

“Are you finished?”

His low, grumpy voice has no business sounding as good as it does.

You play with his high collar and pretend to ponder. “Hm… I guess.”

No sooner than the words leave your mouth do you get flipped over.

Blade’s large hands fondle your chest, memorizing how soft and pliable the flesh is for him. He’s quick to remove one so that he can attach his lips to your pert nipple. He sucks the tender area, releasing sounds that’d have you thinking he was the one being pleasured. Meanwhile, his free palm flattens against your stomach.

You’re lost in a myriad of sensations. His hot, wet mouth sucking your nipple, the cold smoothness of his gloved hand fondling what isn’t in his mouth, the coarse texture of his bandages sliding along your skin. He’s obsessed with your body and it shows. Whether he’s worshiping or desecrating it remains to be seen.

“Blade, please,” you roll your hips against his so he can get the message.

He delivers his punishment swiftly — he tweaks one nipple and nibbles the other.

Unexpectedly, this extracts a mewl from you.

Blade pulls back. A self-satisfied grin spreads over his face.

“Poor needy thing,” he chuckles. Your glare doesn’t last long, for he brushes his fingertips over your clothed clit. He draws featherlight circles. “Soaked too. What? Was there something you wanted from me?”

His reciting of your previous taunt antagonizes your pride. Rather than responding verbally, you try grinding against his stupidly stationary fingers. He holds your hips down to prevent you from misbehaving further. Having not learned your lesson, you try again. He barely needs to exert any more strength for your body to be pinned to the bed as if you were a butterfly on a collector’s wall.

He clicks his tongue. “Have you forgotten how to speak?”

“M-Maybe.”

“Hm. A shame,” he says. He shifts back and parts your legs. You close your eyes as he nudges his nose against your inner thigh, his warm breath fanning over your skin. He leaves a trail of sloppy, open-mouthed kisses as he leisurely makes his way to your cunt.

“I’ll have to pry other sounds from you instead.”

He kisses your covered core, once, then twice, a growl leaving him when your hips desperately raise for more friction. Much to your disappointment, he revisits your inner thigh, this time nipping at it. He subjects the soft flesh to the conquest of his teeth. You prop yourself up on your elbows, intending to remove the last piece of clothing that separates you from him. He pushes you back down and mutters something incomprehensible.

The sound of fabric tearing reverberates throughout your room.

You’re not left wondering what he’s done for long. Blade pulls you against him by your hips, attaches his lips to your clit, and sucks.

He’s relentless, almost as if he’s chasing his release instead of yours. His tongue licks from the bottom to the top. He feasts on you, his face pressing as close as he can get. The rapidly mounting pleasure leaves you incapable of forming coherent words or thoughts. All you can think about is Blade, how he’s grinding himself against your bed, fucking you with his tongue.

Should you be doing this? Are you using him? Is he using you? These pesky little concerns fade into the foreground.

He slurps your clit like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted. Your previous sensitivity has your release imminent. You thread your hands into his hair and throw your head back. Tugging on the long locks in encouragement has him groaning against you, sending vibrations straight to your core.

Your release builds and builds. The muscles in your thighs tense, your voice elevates in pitch, pleasure diluting your senses.

“Gonna— mm—”

You come on his ruthless tongue and ride out your high, ecstasy rushing throughout your body.

Once you come back down to reality, you realize he hasn’t stopped. Your nerves are sensitive enough to almost hurt. You keen as he messily kisses your cunt. You can’t move your legs and your arms feel like jello. With some difficulty, you urge his head away. Your slick glistens along his parted lips. He greedily licks up the remnants since you’ve deprived him of the source.

Blade takes off his overcoat. He then removes his golden shirt, pulling it over his head and tossing both garments aside. Next, he undoes the buckle that hangs across his hips. His silver pants join the heap of his clothes not long after. You drink in the sight of his toned figure. You’ve always thought him to be handsome. His sharp jawline, long, silky hair, and those blazing eyes. You never thought you’d get to see what’s beneath his clothes. Scars litter the expanse of his otherwise pale skin, their shape perplexing you. He catches you staring and gives you a look you can’t place.

“Is it more unsightly than my mind?”

You push yourself up, wrap your arms around his neck, and pull him close.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you murmur against his lips. “All I see is a handsome man who I want to fuck me senseless.”

“Hm. There’s that mouth again.”

He kisses your forehead while bringing you back down to the bed. Once your head is on the pillow, he lines himself up at your entrance. Abundant pre-cum leaks from his tip, which he smears against you, stimulating your clit in the process. You gnaw on your lower lip to stop a moan from sneaking out. He just barely pushes the head in. As it’s been a while, you hold your breath in anticipation for the stretch to come. However, he doesn’t go any further. He's just staring at you, his eyes like that of a madman. The intensity has you averting your gaze.

Your cheek barely grazes the pillow before he speaks up, his tone chastising. “[First].”

You feel your walls clench around nothing.

Sheepishly, you turn your head back to face him.

“That’s all it takes, huh?”

You guess it did work for him twice. It isn’t your fault. Hearing someone call you by your birth name is rare. To everyone else, you’re a title or notable last name. You aren’t an individual. The characteristics that define you remain purposefully hidden from sight. You’ll just be another line on a long list, perhaps a topic for disinterested schoolchildren to write a report on.

“Yeah,” you admit as he gradually sinks into you, “That’s all it takes.”

He’s thick enough to make you wince, regardless of how slow he goes. Your walls struggle to accommodate his size. He stills until you recollect yourself, taking deep breaths to relax your tense body. The dull ache fades. You nod at him to continue. He pushes his cock deeper, exhaling shakily by your ear as inch after inch slips in. It’s hot and heavy inside you, occasionally twitching.

Your legs wrap around his waist, eliciting a choked sound from him. Though you’re panting, you still have enough audacity to let your self-satisfaction show. He doesn’t chastise you or revert to teasing. No, he laughs, low and from the diaphragm. The room is almost unbearably hot and still you shudder.

Blade slides out of you and thrusts back in. The pace isn’t too fast, but he insists on pulling all the way out and filling you to completion again. His pelvis smacks against yours as he fully stretches you. This time, he lets you throw your head back, his teeth sinking into the bruises he left earlier. You hear your headboard hit the wall from how forcefully he fucks you. It’s raw and brutal, but you love it. For once, you don’t have to think or do a thing. All he wants to do is ravish you and you’ll gladly let him.

Your eyes shoot open when his gloved hand finds its way to your sensitive clit. He rubs sloppy circles against it, causing your walls to clench around his cock. He groans into your neck. This unrestrained expression of the pleasure you’re providing him is almost too much. You never would’ve imagined he’d be so vocal, panting hot by your ear, holding absolutely nothing back. You could spend an eternity listening to him.

A second orgasm creeps up on you. Your moans and delighted gasps grow loud enough to let him know. He squishes your cheeks in the coolness of his gloved hand, demanding that your attention wander nowhere else.

“Open your eyes.”

What he’s asking of you feels personal, almost too intimate. You hesitate for a moment but ultimately give him what he wants. He rewards you by revisiting your throbbing clit, rubbing and rubbing until there are spots in your vision. You chant his name, sometimes getting through the entire word, or barely stumbling through the first few letters. He hastens his pace.

You clench down on him hard and cry out.

He grits his teeth from how you tighten around him throughout your orgasm. He fucks you during its duration, not letting up for a second, chasing his own end. His hands clench on your hips, digging into the flesh hard enough to leave bruises. You collapse onto your pillow, your energy spent. He has no problem adjusting you exactly how he wants. Your leg is thrown over his shoulder and you keen at the change in angle. The head of his cock finds a sensitive, spongy area that you hadn’t realized existed. You arch into him and whine.

“B-Blade,” you whine, barely audible over the sound of skin slapping against skin, “Too much… It’s too much…!”

Tears form in the corner of your eyes. One trickles down your cheek, which he promptly licks off.

“I know. Be good,” he pants.

The insults you set aside earlier form on your tongue. They die a swift death again, for his breath hitches and he groans by your ear.

Heat floods your tender insides. He forces your hips flush against him, his thrusts stuttering and then stopping entirely. Wave after wave of his thick cum coats your walls. It never seems to end — his throbbing cock continues releasing the viscous substance until it has no choice but to form globs that leak out of you.

Meanwhile, he slants his lips sloppily against yours, almost growling when you whimper. He pulls back and thrusts in one last time, pushing his release as deep inside as it can go.

You both heave desperately for air. He still doesn’t pull out, even when his cock goes soft. Something tells you he’d be content to leave it there for as long as you permit.

“My blanket… I’ll have to wash it.”

“Mm.”

Blade fixes the strands of hair sticking to your temples. You tilt your head toward his hand. It’s been so long. A small, malicious fragment of yourself taunted how you’ll never enjoy another’s touch again. That your fate would be one defined by solitude. How could you take a lover with such a risk looming over your head? The last time had been disastrous. It haunts you more effectively than any ghost.

He pulls out.

The newfound emptiness feels strange.

Blade rolls off of you and slides his briefs on. You watch his every movement through heavy eyelids. The scars along his chest seem like nothing compared to the amount on his back. They lay heavy along his neck, shoulders, and spine. The off-color stripes are all similar in length and width. Your stomach churns violently as you realize it must’ve been intentional.

He must know you’re staring, but he doesn’t utter a word as he finishes getting dressed.

A petal falls from the bouquet of purple roses Kafka gifted.

The slight movement earns his immediate attention, a reminder of how sharp his senses are.

You grab a nearby blanket to cover your chest and crawl over, curious about what’s caught his interest.

Blade picks up your crystal lotus. Its multiple surfaces change color depending on the angle he holds it at, refracting the low light in your room. He inspects it with furrowed eyebrows and a frown.

“That’s from my mother,” you explain. “She was never big on gift giving, but… for whatever reason, a few years before her death, she started leaving me little trinkets like that. I have a whole drawer full of them.”

You smile as best as you can, not wanting to be a downer.

“Pretty, isn’t it?”

His eyes find yours in the mirror.

He nods.

#oh boy i sure do hope nothing bad happens!#blade x reader #yandere blade x reader #honkai star rail x reader #yandere honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #yandere hsr x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #nexus #my stuff

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moira-mains-go-to-hell · 2 years ago

Note

Hello! I was wondering if you’d do something along the lines of reader taking a hit for them? I was hoping for Mercy, kiriko, and junker queen. If that’s too many just mercy is fine! Feel free to ignore if this isn’t up your alley

Babes it is no problem at all, thank you for your request.

Mercy, Kiriko, and Junker Queen’s reaction to Reader getting shot on their behalf

Warnings: shooting, violence, near death experiences

Mercy

“We are taking on fire, I’ve got eyes on Angela, we need an evac route now-“ you where cut off as the ground exploded nearby. The omnic that sent the attack was huge, a tourette built into its chest and smaller impuls cannons on its shoulders.

The combat medic to your right was doing the best she could with her blaster, but it wasn’t quite sufficient. The omnic she did manage to land a hit on, took notice of her presence, b-lining for her cover.

“Angie! Go!” You made a break for the debris she was crouched behind, taking out the opposition closest to you as you went. The race between you and the omnic was dire and no one would stand in your way.

You shot at the robot as you went, never seeming to deter it as you scramble over rubble.

“Come here!” You had thrown down your bag, a small barrier forming around it as you continued. She hat gotten with in arms reach of you and you yanked her into your chest by her hand. Whipping her around, you shoved her into the barrier as you heard the omnic open fire.

The first shot hit your shoulder, the second, your back. You collapsed onto your knees, immediately reaching for the grenades in your pocket. You glance over at the Medic behind you, ‘it’s gonna be ok,’ you mouthed, before throwing whatever you had at the omnic, and dragging your body under the barrier with her.

She immediately started attempting to mend your wounds, putting pressure on your shoulder, “That was reckless, and stupid. Don’t ever risk yourself like that again.”

“No ‘thank you for saving my ass,’ huh?”

“No, because if you died out there and I couldn’t get to you I’d curse you forever,”you finally met her gaze, seeing the sincerity in her face, and the frustration in her eyes.

“I won’t, and I never will. Can’t meet the angels when I’m already bound to one,” you smiled and interlocked your fingers together, and that’s how you stayed until backup arrived.

Kiriko

You had decided to stay over at her apartment after an at home dinner date turned a bit steamy. You were curled up behind her, an arm wrapped around her waist as you slept.

You both stirred at the sound of glass breaking, and two distinct thuds sounding from the front room.

“Were you expecting someone?” You sat up, looking towards the door.

“No, but I’m guessing it’s those stupid yakuza from a few weeks back,” you both got out of bed, throwing on shirts and shorts before grabbing your weapons of choice, “How’d you get your hands on that?”

Kiriko watched as you pulled a pistol and silence from your bag, walking to the door as you threaded them together. She didn’t typically ask many questions about what you did, she just trusted you weren’t anything terrible.

“Called in a favor from a friend,” you shrugged and headed out first, sweeping the hall before heading to the front room.

You rounded the corner and were immediately met with a barrage of bullets, going back around the corner and crouching.

“Two gunmen, behind the kitchen counter.”

You both crawled your way behind the couch, taking opposite ends, in order to separate them. As soon as you aimed was as soon as you where shot, the bullet tipping through your bicep and making you drop the gun.

“Shit!” You picked the gun up in your other hand and shot back four times, each shot hitting you assailant’s chest, “how’s it coming on your end?”

You watched in awe as your girlfriend threw the last of her kunai, it burrowing itself into the neck of her attacker.

“All is good now- you are hurt,” she chided you as an ofuda appeared in her hand.

“Nothing but a flesh wound. You know it’s not the worst I’ve gotten.”

“That doesn’t make it any better,” she laid the glowing paper over the bullet wound, it dissolving as quickly as it was placed.

“So,” you look up at her and flex your arm a bit, “do you want to handle these now, or do I call my cleaners and they will be here in 20?”

“Call them anyway, we will get started. I don’t like blood sitting in the carpet that long.”

Junker Queen

“Alrighty you scavengers, scumbags and assorted Junkers!” You stood on the rotating pedestal, mic in hand as you faced the crowd in its entirety, “You know what tonight is, you know what you're here for! The Reckoning is here and all of your competitors are more than ready for battle!”

The crowd cheered as you went through your welcome, introducing each of the opponents as you made your way out of the ring.

“Tonight, as usual,” you had stopped in front of a large Garage door, it slowly lifting to reveal Odessa, “the crown is up for grabs, and as your Matron of Affairs,” you leant up, taking the crown off her head and placing it on your own, “I will be holding onto it till a winner is confirmed.”

“You know, if you wanted to wear the crown you could just ask,” Dez bent down and whispered to you.

“Why would I do that when I get to wear it here?” You plopped yourself on the throne behind her, blowing her a kiss and bringing the mic back to your lips, “if all the challengers are ready, then I say it’s a go!”

You watched as everyone immediately hopped into action, commentating on each of the blows traded between fighters.

The power and rage exuding from the ring was already immense, but with a few choice words you knew you could get the pot boiling a whole lot faster.

“Well tonight doesn’t look so promising! Will these flimsy foes bring your Queen to her knees?” You held the mic out to hear a few gnarly cheers and boos come back to you, a smile coming to your lips as you egged on the crowd, “or will my knight in rusty armor return once more to the place she belongs?”

“We want to see some blood!”

“Quit fighting like a bunch of broads!”

“You’ve got nothing on the Queen!”

Bingo. One by one the comments flew in, like gnats in the face of a bull. One wouldn’t do much on its own, but dozens? This will give you the entertainment you want, and your girlfriend the fight she has been itching for.

Metal flew, noses were broken, teeth were scattered and you were reveling in it. A pile had amassed on the floor, injured bodies and weapons alike joining the mass as Dez plowed through the competition, sending you little winks and smiles throughout the match.

After the last man fell, you stood from the throne, extending a hand to your girlfriend.

“We all knew it was coming but never this soon! It must be record time!” As Odessa made her way to you, neither of you noticed the last man moving, ever so slightly.

“Your Reckoning Champion, for yet another time, your Junker Quee-“ the crowd went quiet before you realized what had happened, Odessa had rushed to your side, holding you up as you put your hand on the wound.

“You bitch! You ruined my commentary!” You put pressure on the gunshot wound, falling to your knees with the woman who anchored you by your side.

“One of yous better get some help or I start taken heads to bowl with!” She boomed out to the crowd, several of the junkets getting up t from their seats, possibly to leave, possibly to help.

As soon as someone came to your aid, she let you go, leaning you in their hands.

“You can take my crown, my city, and my life,” the anger that surrounded her body could make ever the toughest men quiver, “but you shot my woman? Why is that? Where you aiming for me, and just missed completely? I think you are just stupid enough for that to possibly be the situation, right?”

She had gotten with in inches of this man, Carnage appearing in her hand at a frightening speed, “But I think, you are so dumb, you decided to shoot the messenger, so no one could win? Hmm? Am I getting it right?”

The man shuttered, putting his head down and shaking his head.

“I don’t like that answer,” she threw the ax down next to him, his whole body quivering, “try that again.” He didn’t say anything, keeping his head down, “I said, try it again!”

Her foot collided with his chest and he was on the ground in an instant, his hands scrambling for purchase. She crouched before him, the tip of her knife coming to his chin.

“She is gonna make it out alive, I know that. But if she needs a few organs to do it, I’ll rip you apart to start looking for ‘em. Got it?” He was crying at this point, nodding his head profusely.

“Good. Don’t go anywhere,” she gave him a wink, Medford using the handle of her knife to knock him out, standing up and pushing his limp body away with her foot.

#overwatch #mercy overwatch #kiriko overwatch #junker queen overwatch #junker queen x reader #odessa dez stone #Odessa stone x reader #angela zeigler #angela ziegler x reader #kiriko kamori #kiriko kamori x reader #kiriko x reader #mercy x reader

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mellowwillowy · 1 year ago

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𝐈

ii.

Blue has always enjoyed watching how your face contorts in joy when you are hit with inspiration. He also enjoys the face you make when you are troubled by the lack of idea and motivation to write anything, only capable of staring at the blank sheet on your computer screen.

Blue loves you however you are. Stressed, happy, upset, erratic, anyhow you are presented, he will love you unconditionally. To love is to accept someone unconditionally, even when they are nothing but a burden.

The teacher used to lecture about how a parent's love will forever be unconditional, despite the children doing something out of hand.

So what difference does it make if he is to apply it in his love for you? If a child manages to kill their own parents out of rage, the parents are forced to love their children unconditionally.

Because that's what the teacher taught him. "It is a form of love with no strings attached, therefore, parents love their children for who they are, no matter what."

His feelings for you have always been genuine no matter how many times have passed. In this world he decides to live to the fullest, he decides to understand how life works himself. He will not do his research and read the study of those intelligent bastards.

Because he has always been a prodigy what difference would it make should he deduce things himself?

Blue's attention is shifted toward you when you walk out of the bedroom, all dressed up. "Let's go, they are waiting for us by the station."

Blue's lip curves into a grin, a faint blush decorating his cheeks as he holds your hand in his, your bag in his hand while the two of you walk toward the door, "Today will be a rather sunny day, you have brought the sunscreen right?"

iii.

The trip to the train station is filled with laughter as Blue jokes around occasionally. Soon, the two of you have reached the station, trying to spot your friends.

There, you see a familiar tuft of yellow hair and purple hair. A man scrolling his phone with a woman vaping by the smoking area with a phone in her hand.

"Lemoooon! Graaape!" You run toward the figures with Blue following you from the back. Both of them look away from their phones and lock their eyes with yours.

The glasses-wearing man holds out his hand as though to warn you about bumping into someone before Blue himself pulls you into his body with his arm, saving you from an inconvenient bump toward a man running around with a cup of coffee in his hand.

Was it a coincidence that he could pull you back in time?

"Oh not only are you two late, you almost cause something so distasteful!" Lemon flicks your forehead as he chides you for being clumsy.

Grape keeps her vape in her jeans' pocket and fist-bumps Blue, "What keeps you two so long? Now let's go, we only have 5 minutes left before the train departs."

The four of you stand behind the yellow line, chatting to each other while occasionally bursting into laughter together. You elbow Lemon, teasing him, "Too bad my sister couldn't join us on this trip huh?"

It isn't audible for the others to hear but Blue somehow manages to chuckle. The speaker finally announces the train's arrival, and everyone starts to keep a hold of their belongings.

The train is not as packed as you expected since Blue has determined the perfect time for this trip, a time when everyone is occupied and a time when no sane people would visit the beach.

"A shame we can only lock ourselves in the villa because of the typhoon." Grape grumbles as she checks the weather's forecast.

Lemon exclaims, "I think we are quite adventurous enough to wander near the sea when a typhoon is about to hit us."

Everyone looks toward Blue who is only grinning, his fingers do not stop typing on his phone's keyboard, "But this is the only time we can use my villa~ oh trust me, it will be a fun trip."

"Why do you make me bring sunscreen if we are only going to stay indoors?" "Ahh..."

Blue looks away from you and focuses on his phone instead, "It's a perfect opportunity for you to find inspiration right~? Imagine a murder happening when we can not leave because of the typhoon?"

"We were talking about sunscreen, you idiot." with a kick to his shin from Grape, you can only shake your head in unison with Lemon. The speaker announces the train's departure and all of you begin to scramble for seats.

You look out from your seat's window, the sky slowly turning gray. Who would go to the beach in such weather? But your lover's face shows nothing but bliss, enjoying the gloomy sky from your window.

#Identity Crisis #Blue the Boyfriend #LIfE Project

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xotomesimpx · 2 years ago

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Bio Bud's: Bakugo Katsuki x (F)Reader

Featuring awkward mom moment's with Bakugo's mom.

So it was no surprise that there was a big biology/science project coming up. And everyone in class 1-A was a little on edge about it. Seeing this Aizawa let loose a little. "I will allow you guy's to pick a partner for the assignment. No more than 3 people for a group though. And pick your partner or team members wisely." Everyone was quick to partner up with a friend rather than someone useful.

Bakugo was going to partner with Kirishima but discovered that he partner with Mina and Kota. He grumbled and glanced around the room but any other option he had was taken. He looked at Mineta "No" Glanced at Hakagure "Definitely not." Until finally his eyes landed on you. You typically kept to yourself and often were left to do projects on your own. All of which turned out great in the past. Did I also mention you were a bit of a science/biology geek.

So it was pretty clear you and him were polar opposites though. You were carefree, mellow, and pretty delicate when you talked to others. having your moments of harshness if needed. You were like a gust of fresh air that never got old. Bakugo the loud, sometimes overbearing, and of course violent.

Match made in hell

He wanted to do it at your house more so. But you couldn't that day. So you had to pick his house to work on the assignment for today. "Turn around dumbass!" Bakugo hastingly shouted at you after you took notice of baby photos of him that were left out.

Hearing this you came face to face with his mom and how the two acted. You decided to let them have their moment and set up out in his backyard. "Where the fuck did she go?!" His mom chided him for not being more welcoming to his guest or keeping an eye on you.

Once he came out and you bickered with him over who should get the supplys from the toolbox. His mom peeped her head out and cleared her throat as bakugo huffed. "UUUGgh fine!" He grabbed the list of supplys and went back inside.While you waited Mitsuki stepped out and the two of you got accuainted.

Time Skip~

It has been a few days and one of Mitsuki's favorite past times is doing the dishes and listen to the two of you banter with each other. It almost reminded her and Bakugo's dad. (Who also took notice) both would laugh every now and then from how equally snarky you were with her son.

She would be that Mama Bear type who would get mad if anyone else did that to her son. But given you were friend's (few friends) and she every now and then started to notice how a little less reckless and rough her son was getting. It gave her peace of mind knowing you knew how to handle her son. She knows for a fact not many can.

She would sometimes let you even stay a bit longer to eat dinner. Only to at some point make it awkward or slightly tease Bakugo for getting all soft and less gruff if you were around.

"What the fuck happened to you swearin' like a sailor at the table?" She raised a brow at her son as she took a bite of her food, he grumbled "This damn idiot made a fucking swear jar." He did not realize his mistake until you lightly nudged him. "Bakugo that will be another 10 cents." He huffed and dropped his fork "Fuck!" He digged in he pocket as you watched. "Scratch that 20..."

You were practically like family by the end of the week. And Mitsuki finally sat you all down together while she was scrapbooking and saving photos. "Aww and here he is on his first day at the beach. He tried knocking other kids sand castle's down." Mitsuki pointed at the photo reminiscing as you held back your chuckles.

"Mom, can't you do that when y/n is gone Jesus!" Bakugo tried grabbing the scrapbook from his mom's hands. "Oh calm down this might not be her first time seeing your goofy face!" She flicked him over the head and sat back down. "Plus we got three more pages to look at." She chirped as she settled in looking over the other photos.

"Aww and here is me and your father cuttin' the wedding cake. Idiot got icing on my dress so we both ended up with it on our faces." She looked at the picture fondly seeing younger her and the man she loved laughing away at the mess.

Bakugo snorted "Laaame!" Mitsuki hit him on his head lightly. "You say that now but you wait before you know it. This will be you and y/n." She said with a devious grin as Bakugo flushed and stammered "No- no way that will ever happen hag!"

"Didn't you say something similar when Mr, Bakugo brought up marrying you someday?" You glanced at Mitsuki as she laughed "Yes, I did and look where we are."

It was a day before the project had to be turned in and Bakugo and you were finished your project early. So you decided to hand it in early to be done with it. "I have to admit... You are not a bad partner." Bakugo grumbled "And you are not as loud as I thought." You hummed with a chuckles as he glared. Not with your typical death glare but a softer one. "Oh shut up. Now let's turn this dam project in" He muttered annoyed and set the project on the table at the back of the class. "That would be ten cents." He rolled his eyes and thought. and gave you the change. "With how much you cuss you could have bought a house." It went silent as he looked at you .

"Where is all that change going towards anyway." You tilt your head and think "Hmmm not sure use it to how we'd like. We'll put it to use at some point for sure though." He nodded in a agreement "And one last question how about you put in some for all the time you cussed, nerd?" You sigh "Oh fine."You dug in your school bag and put some change aside to add to the jar later. "fifty cents should be enough." You muttered as he shook his head "No, scratch that add twenty cents more." Bakugo spoke coldly as you rolled your eyes and added more coins. As you two left the classroom Bakugo looked at you "Also another thing." Bakugo grinned watching your face turn in annoyance.

"Dinner is at around five today." You punched him in the arm lightly. "Damn you Katsu- Bakugo!" You fixed your wording as he glared at you. "It's Katsuki to you, bitch." You waved him off as you left "Yeah yeah see you at five, ya goof!"

Dinner went on as usual with everyone rambling about their day. It got to you "I was getting ready to fight someone who had the audacity to ram into me while in the hall's. But Katsuki had the great idea of dragging me back into the classroom." Bakugo spat back "The bell was about to ring what was i supposed to do, let you get detention?!" The two of you went back and forth with each other as Mitsuki and Masaru gleamed from opposite ends of the table.

"Alright, alright y'alls temper is getting hot not the food! Shush and eat it before it get cold for shits sake!" Mitsuki broke up the bickering and chuckled and she looked back at Masaru. "They argue like an old married couple." Masaru nodded and stiffled a small laugh. "Yes they do indeed."

"Daaad not you two old man." Katsuki grumbled as everyone went back to eating.

And yes Mitsuki noticed you two are on first name basis. Also yes, she has some wedding ideas saved to her Pintrest cause of you two. And most importantly yes, she loves you. Also she may or may not have slipped up and reffered to you as her daughter-in law by accident. (she was embarrassed too dw)

You also wondered what happened to some of the money in you now virtual tip jar. Since you deposited it into a shared account with Katsuki on an app. You did this so both of you had access to it.

Final grades were setting in as Aizawa handed out the rubric to everyone. Some students looked thrilled, others not so much. He handed you both your's and gave a nod. "You two did a better job than expected. Good work." Once he walked away Bakugo grabbed your rubric and looked it over before checking his. "What the hey Kats-" He tsked hidding his creeping blush. Making it seem like he was looking at his paper. "We both got 100%." You leaned down and picked up your paper from the floor but saw something glitter from your school bag.

You grabbed it carefully and pulled out a silver heart locket attached to a chain. "Who's is this?" You asked and raised up the necklace to the other girls in class. They all shrugged "None of us have something like that I don't think." Momo spoke with a shrug until Mina cheered "It is from a secret admirer duh!" Her and Hakagure bubble in delight at who it could be from. You sat down and glanced at bakugo who rolled his eyes. Until something caught your eye, the gold heart locket you saw. Concealed from under his baggy dress shirt.

#bakugo x reader #bakugo x y/n #bhna headcanons #bnha fanfiction #mha x reader #bakugo katuski x reader #katsuki x reader

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sada-siva-sanyaasi · 3 years ago

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red // ramaraju

capture you \ green \ blue

@manwalaage @lil-stark @thewinchestergirl1208 @contemporarykafka @gauri-vishalakshi @maraudersfansassemble @idrinktea-darling @itsfookingloosah @rambheem-is-real @adrakchutneyofficial @nerdreader @mayuriebubblie @darlingletshurttonight @samairathewriter @redirection04 @reallythoughtfulwizard

(a/n- this went so so different from what I thought lmao. Enjoy folks, feedback is appreciated!)

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"Come back to me and we will spend every second of our lives with each other, come back and I'll tell you everyday that I'm in love with you, more than anyone has ever loved anyone."

She knelt down too, bringing his face closer as she pressed a kiss to each tear that slipped out, before a final kiss to his forehead, her lips staying there.

"Come back to me," she whispered.

Ram woke up with a start, looking around wildly as he felt the ground around him. His fingers finally found the idol and he brought it close to his chest, breathing heavily. Y/N gave him an anchor without realising when she handed her idol of his namesake to him, the same idol that saved him from the storms brewing in his heart and the longing that clouded his mind. He stared at the idol as memories flooded his brain, a sense of comfort filling him as her voice rang in his heart.

Flashback

“I didn’t know you’re devoted to Shri Ram,” Bheem said, trying to make conversation with Y/N who was still upset with Ram. “Oh well, I was originally much more devoted to Lord Shiva,” she mused, stirring the pot as the aroma filled the air around them. Ram paused, looking up from his book as she looked into the pot, frowning, before taking some spice and putting it in, stirring once and offering a taste to Bheem. Bheem tentatively put a spoonful in his mouth, his eyes lighting up as he surged forward for more.

“Not now Bheem, I’ll save extra for you later.” She chided, smiling to herself. “As I was saying, I loved Shiva a lot more. I think I still do; he feels real and grounds me a lot. But Shri Ram,” she spared a glance at Ram before looking back at Bheem, “I fell in love with him recently, and I really like the feeling.”

End

Ram’s uncle walked into his tent and sighed, looking at Ram’s state. He had been waking up panting and sweating ever since he left his heart in Hyderabad, and everyone could see how it had been affecting him.

Ram walked slower, talked less and got more agitated than before. His eyes lost the glow, looking more and more like those of a sick tiger unlike the sharp ones they were before. More than anything, he looked scared all the time, his grip on the idol she gave him growing tighter each passing day.

“Ram,” he began, watching his nephew sit straighter and look into the fire burning, not acknowledging him. “You’re just killing yourself for no reason, and you know it. She wouldn’t want you like this Ram, none of us do.”

Ram rolled his eyes and stood up, dusting himself. He knew what he was doing, better than anyone else. But he also knew that everything felt absolutely pointless without her looking at him, sitting beside him, talking to him, just being near him. It all felt like it meant nothing. “Remember your promise to Baba, Ram.” His uncle tried again but Ram snapped. “Well I’ve fulfilled it, haven’t I? I did everything I could and got a gun in every villager’s hand to fight for our freedom. Baba never said I had to give up on love for freedom. He didn’t ask me to kill my spirit and live lifelessly for this fight for freedom, Babai.” Ram sighed, wiping the sweat off his face as he turned to his uncle.

“I will fight with every ounce in my being, with my last breath I will fight to do whatever I can in making sure the British leave our land and we get back everything that rightfully belongs to us. But for me to fight, I need her. I need her beside me to be able to breathe the way I did before. I just,” he sat back down, looking into the fire with hopelessness. “I want her, Babai. Nothing else.”

Ram’s uncle rubbed his face as he sat down beside his nephew, looking into the fire. “Then go get her.” Ram looked up from the fire, staring as his uncle patted his back reassuringly. “I can take care of things over here, Ram. You go bring my daughter-in-law home.” Ram turned back to the flames as they reflected in his eyes, and after a very very long time, his uncle finally saw his nephew again.

–

The Sun was just rising in Hyderabad when Ram finally got to Y/N’s house. The first rays of light hit Ram’s feet as he gazed at the mansion that belonged to his lady love, somehow completely dull. Something was wrong, he could tell as the mansion hollowly looked back at him, and he ventured in, looking for anyone at all. Since it was too early in the morning, maybe no one was around, Ram reasoned with himself as he looked around the spotless house.

A door creaked open and Y/N’s little brother walked out, rubbing his eyes. He was fully clothed in white, not any sign of the grand clothes he wore the last time Ram saw him, and panic began to set into Ram’s chest. The white clothes, no sign of people around, the talk of a plague going around in the city as bad as when Quli Qutb Shah ruled over centuries ago rang in ram’s brain as he staggered back, making Y/N’s brother finally notice him.

“Baava*!” He exclaimed, rushing to hug him, and Ram hugged the young boy back, tears already collecting in his eyes for multiple reasons. The boy pulled away and smiled wide at Ram, but frowned immediately, noticing his state. “Baava, what happened? Are you alright?”

Ram looked at him and ruffled his hair a little, turning around to the house. “Where’s everyone?” The kid sighed, sitting him down and offering a glass of water. “Amma went on a religious trip to Varanasi to pray and celebrate, and the house help will be here anytime soon.”

“Celebrate?”

“Yeah,” he looked up at Ram with nervous eyes. “Akka got infected by the plague, and was suffering all alone for almost two weeks. She was in a lot of pain, baava, and none of us could do anything to help her out. She kept saying that nothing will happen to her because she still hasn’t seen her Ram even while her health deteriorated drastically.”

Ram stopped breathing, fear gripping him tight at the thought of losing Y/N. he had nearly lost her and he didn’t actually know, what if she-“Thankfully she recovered all by herself, the physician who came to see her said it was a true miracle.” The boy smiled wide. “I think you kept her alive baava, wanting to see you made her fight even death. Today is Holi, which is why I’m dressed in white, and- oh look, the house help got here too.”

Ram looked up as people filled the house, and sighed to himself, leaning back. “Baava,” Ram looked up as the boy held out a set of white kurta pyjamas for him. “Get ready for Holi, it's Akka's favourite festival and I'm pretty sure she’s sleeping right now. She will wake up anytime soon and rush to get ready, so you should too. Wouldn’t want to miss your first Holi together, right?” Ram grabbed the clothes gratefully and began walking away but stopped at the last sentence.

“Also please cut your hair and shave your beard, you look horrible. Akka likes finely groomed men so much more, trust me.”

“Yeah right, she likes me anyway.” Ram grumbled, but still scratched his beard thoughtfully as he walked to shower. Maybe the kid wasn’t wrong after all.

–

Ram watched all the colour trays lined up, foods and drinks splayed out as the young boy greeted guests, folding his hands and smiling at them. He didn’t want to admit it, but Y/N’s bratty little brother was already growing into a fine young man and the thought made him extremely proud.

When Ram thought he wasn’t looking, he picked a tray full of various colours and slipped away, avoiding all the guests and help till he reached Y/N’s room. The door was unlocked and he smiled to himself, opening slowly and walking in, only to stop entirely as he took in the scene in front of him.

Y/N held a book in her hands, reading as she laid on her stomach, her legs in the air as they swung back and forth, occasionally clashing and her anklet music filling the air. Her delicate white lehenga made her look straight like an angel out of heaven, the fabric flying in the air and leaving little to imagination. Her jhumkas danced as she hummed and moved her head along to a song that played from her gramophone in the corner of her room, the language unrecognisable but exceedingly beautiful.

Ram set the tray down gently enough to not make a sound and walked forward slowly, before gently ghosting his fingers over the bottom of Y/N’s left foot. She shrieked and left her book, falling onto her back as Ram surged forward, covering her mouth and holding the back of her neck. He chuckled lightly as her eyes widened, taking him in. She blinked a few times, as though trying to understand if she was actually seeing him, before squealing under his hand and jumping onto him, hugging as tight as she could.

They finally pulled away after a few minutes, both of them softly looking into each other’s eyes and Y/N whispered, “So my Ram has come back to me, huh.” Ram smiled, and she continued. “I mean my idol. Where is my idol?” Ram softly tucked her hair behind her ear and smiled. “He’s resting, for now you’ll have to do with the Ram in front of you.” She hummed, caressing his jaw and raking her hands through his hair. “Where did your long hair and beard go? I loved them so much, did you tidy up for me?”

“Wait, what? Your brother said you liked well groomed and clean shaved men, I will get hi-” “Of course he said that, but it’s quite alright. I love you however you are.”

Ram sighed, shaking his head as she continued to tug at his roots gently, the sensations sending shivers down his body. “You know,” she murmured, “I heard of a theory whilst studying in Cambridge that it’s a possibility that everything around us is in fact just a figment of our imagination. And if that is the case…” “Then you’re the most beautiful figment of mine.” Ram finished her sentence, cupping her jaw and pressing a kiss to her nose.

“What’s that song playing? I don’t think I recognise the language.” Ram murmured against her jaw as she closed her eyes, letting him explore her body with his arms. “One of my peers was from France and she gave me a set of beautiful songs from her country.” “Do you know the meaning of the songs?”

“Oh yes, the one that’s playing right now is called parlez-moi d’amour. It’s a beautiful song, Ram. it’s all about the sweet nothings of love, although it also speaks of disappointment that it may all not be real, but if her lover kisses her and whispers love into her ears, she will believe it all.” she hummed along as Ram gently lifted her in his arms bridal-style, standing up and dancing slowly to the tune. She smiled as he twirled her around, pressing kisses to her nose every time he could. He finally set her down as she pulled his head down, meeting halfway for a sweet kiss.

The kiss soon got heated as Ram began walking forward, his grip on her neck slipping to her waist and tightening there while her arms wound around his neck, fingers pulling his hair. When they hit her table, the tray he set there clanked a little and Y/N pulled away to look down, only to gasp and push him away, stepping a few feet away.

“Why did you bring colours in here, Ram? Did my fool of a brother tell you I like Holi?” Ram nodded slowly while Y/N groaned, walking back. “I hate Holi, Ram. The mess, the colours, the wild behaviour like animals, I hate it all! Just get those colours out of here, now.” Ram scoffed, stretching his muscles and picking up red, walking towards her menacingly. “Ram, no,” she warned weakly, running around her room as he followed her calmly.

“I can’t have my wife hate Holi, bangaru. It’s a major shame if you hate it, and it’s my responsibility to make sure you no longer hate this beautiful festival. Now come here, and I’ll go easy on you. But if you make me get you, there’s no guarantee as to what will happen next. And that is a promise.” Y/N shook her head rapidly, jumping onto her bed to get away when Ram smirked, grabbing her pallu and tugging hard. She shrieked as she fell down, landing on the bed groaning. Ram laughed at the look on her face while she tried to glare at him, still rubbing her hips. “You evil man,” she grumbled as he crawled on top of her, while he shrugged, grabbing her waist and pulling her to him. “Your evil man.” Ram corrected smugly, smearing the red all over her neck, before wrapping his hand tighter around her throat and pulling her in for a rough kiss.

Y/N gasped, trying to move away while he shoved his tongue down her throat, swallowing every sound she made with absolute delight. Wrapping his other arm tighter around her waist he moved back and stood up, walking her to her table. Setting her right beside the tray of colours Ram moved to her neck, kissing like a man starved.

Y/N could only close her eyes and bite her lips to contain her moans as he picked another colour, this time blue, smearing it around her waist as much as he could. She slowly picked yellow, grabbing his hair and tugging him roughly away from her neck as Ram groaned, painting the right side of his face yellow. She smirked triumphantly only for him to grab her hair and pull her closer, rubbing his cheek against hers and spreading the yellow there too. “Ram, this doesn’t feel so Holi anymore,” she gasped into his mouth as he trailed his hands on her back, loosening the knots of her blouse to apply green all over her bare back. He smirked as she took pink and poured it onto his collarbone, opening the top three buttons. “I’ve never been a very holy man anyway mehbooba, who knows it better than you?” Y/N whined as he took her bottom lip between her teeth, whimpers leaving her as he coloured her white lehenga a beautiful red and pink.

“I’ve never wanted you more, oh God,” she moaned softly, getting onto him as he walked her to the bed, throwing her onto it and climbing above her again. He held the bowl of red and smiled at her, kissing her passionately while throwing the colour in the air. “I have to say,” he mumbled as he pulled away, caressing her jaw gently, “red looks so so gorgeous on you, it’s taking all of me to not rip it off of you.”

She giggled and took some pink to swipe it across his nose, her smile widening when he sneezed because of the powder. “Only after marriage, janaab. I’ll let you do whatever you want to me the second you tie the mangalsutra around my neck.”

Ram pushed her hair out of her face and kissed her forehead, pulling her close to his heart as they both just laid on the bed. “What are we waiting for? I’m sure temples are open right now, let’s go.” Y/N sat up, looking down at him with adoration while he sat up a little, resting his head in his hand as he stared back. “You really want to marry me? There’s no going back Ram.” She said softly and he smiled, caressing her waist and spreading the colours over there slowly. “I’ve never wanted anything more in my life than you. You’re my deepest, truest and darkest desire Y/N,” Ram said, moving forward to press a teasing kiss to her hip. She jumped and smacked his shoulder as he sat up too, taking her hands in his. “We don’t look half bad, let’s go.” She smiled and set his hair, buttoning up his kurta gently and smoothing it out as he pulled her close, pressing soft kisses to her neck while he tied her blouse back properly. “Alright, let's get married, Alluri Ramaraju. I can’t wait to be yours.” He placed a swift kiss to her lips and gathered her in his arms, kicking the door open and running through the halls while she shrieked in delight, hiding her face in his chest.

“And I absolutely can’t wait to be yours.”

#rrr #desiblr #ram x reader #ramaraju x reader #telugu #ram charan #tollywood #jr ntr #tamil #ramaraju

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smp-live · 3 years ago

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The apocalypse happened a few years ago. And- it's vague, the apocalypse. It's not some big earth-shattering moment. It's confused tv reports and impulse decisions and little growing bits of tension until the pot boils over.

The details are fuzzy; it all happened so quickly that many civilians were left unaware of what exactly went down. One day, they were living, and the next, most weren't.

Nukes, EMPs, solar flares - the survivors find it doesn't matter. One way or another, the world ended, millions died, and everything’s different. Hostile. Harsh. Unforgiving. The sun is bright and searing, and radiation burns skin not covered head-to-toe.

People are cruel and will take advantage of anything they can. If you're not a part of an already-existing group, good luck.

Somehow, two men end up on a wooden pallet floating in the middle of the ocean. Maybe it was a plane crash, one of the few still running downed by a stray shot; maybe a boat capsized, embrittled by the radiation. Same as the apocalypse, it doesn't matter. What does is that now they’re surrounded by debris and a shark thirsting for blood and there’s one thing they both know: trust no-one.

So they don’t. Names hold power, as they’ve learnt over the past few years; names imply trust. When it becomes apparent they’re stuck together and the time comes to introduce themselves, the elder of the two stares out to sea and says, “Call me...” And that phrase brings back memories of a book he’d read long ago, in the Before Days, and so he finishes, “Ishmael.”

The younger panics and blurts out the first thing that comes to mind: “I’m Gunk.”

‘Ishmael’ raises a skeptical eyebrow, clearly amused. “Gunk,” he repeats. And ‘Gunk’ nods, crosses his arms.

“Yeah, bitch. It’s...” his mind blanks, “Russian.”

Ishmael’s brow climbs further, and he looks on the verge of laughing, lips twisting ever-so-slightly upward. “Last name?”

“Uh,” Gunk wracks his brain, and something from a history class, years ago, stands out. Nearly forgotten amongst all the useless information - what he calls anything that doesn’t directly contribute to survival, nowadays - and only clinging on through his brain classifying it as ‘important’ for God-knows-why. “Gorbachov.”

“Like... Michael Gorbachov?” There’s a hint of laughter in Ishmael’s tone now, the first in a while. He tries not to let that thought depress him.

Gunk nods, relieved at the reminder of the rest of the name, even if he still can’t place it. “Yeah. He was my father.”

“Michael Gorbachov, eighth and final leader of Soviet Russia, was your father,” Ishmael deadpans, and, frustrated at having been outplayed, Gunk scowls.

“What of it?” he challenges, which makes Ishmael laugh, throwing his head back to the blistering sun high above.

“Okay, Gunk,” he says, and yet it doesn’t feel patronizing.

They both know the other is lying, that much is obvious from the constant teasing and jokes about Gunk’s ‘father.’ But it doesn’t matter, because in the slow turning of the days, they grow close. After all, there’s not much to do on a makeshift raft in the middle of the ocean, other than chat.

Ishmael is handy, and the main reason for their survival. He knows how to purify water and fillet a fish, how to add on to their raft without nails and swim against the ocean current. Gunk wonders where he picked all that up, but never asks.

(A survivalist father and paranoid brother, whom Ishmael hasn’t seen in half a decade. The thought that they’re probably still alive brings him comfort.)

Gunk, on the other hand, does most of the grunt work. Fishing in debris that floats by, diving down for rocks when they briefly dock, and the ever-important duty of keeping the shark they named Clive from destroying their miserly raft. He keeps up a steady stream of chatter through it all, and Ishmael thinks that’s what makes the monumental effort to go on worth it. Then, he wonders when he let himself get attached.

(It was a week or so in, when Gunk had fashioned himself a shelf out of the bottom of a storage bin and some planks, and proclaimed it his ‘comfort shelf.’ Gunk felt the same when Ishmael didn’t tell him to dismantle it, only pushed it aside, even though they were supposed to use that wood to repair Clive’s last attack.)

They survive, they grow closer, they hesitantly trust, and yet, they don’t pry. They don’t share their real names. Not until one day.

Ishmael goes swimming out to a nearby island to scavenge for food and chop down a few trees, if he can manage. Gunk stays on the ship - an anchor is next on their to-do list, and so he’s responsible for keeping it from drifting off with his tiny paddle. Except it’s not well-crafted, and grey jaws reach up to snap at the wood he’s standing on so he uses it to stab Clive, and the tip breaks off. The raft starts drifting away.

“Ishmael!” he calls, then again, louder, “Ishmael! Fuck, man!” But he’s nowhere to be seen, and the current is dragging Gunk awfully far out from the island.

He keeps calling, shouting, screaming, increasingly panicked at leaving his friend, the man who’d helped him survive for months, now, behind. Until his voice grows hoarse the way it never did from rambling for hours on end, and a little speck appears on the beach of the island.

Ishmael waves widely at him, and he must be shouting but Gunk can’t hear it over the lapping of the waves. So he assumes what was said, hollers, “I can’t fuckin’ come back, arsehole!” and raises the remains of the paddle over his head to clarify.

The speck stills, then bursts into motion, tossing everything he’s holding aside and shucking his shoes. Gunk can practically hear him mutter about what an “ridiculous child” he is, because although they’ve never shared their ages Ishmael’s decided he’s the elder of the two, which obviously means Gunk is a child.

And then Ishmael dives into the water, and he’s closing the distance between himself and the raft with each stroke. He cuts a straight line through the waves, until he suddenly swerves to the left. Gunk is confused a moment, before he notices - a grey fin jutting out of the water next to him.

Clive goes in for another pass, then another, and Ishmael jukes him out both times. He’s maybe five meters away, now, but the shark is coming back so Gunk screams. But Ishmael’s head is underwater, and he doesn’t hear. Just keeps going, towards safety he won't make it to.

Clive barrels into him. Ishmael vanishes underwater.

He doesn’t come back up.

Gunk is diving in before he can properly think, pushing past the cold shock of the sea, as he uses his self-taught skills to bring him to where he guesses Ishmael last was. Then, he takes a deep breath, squeezes his eyes shut, and goes under.

After a nervewracking few moments, his elbow bumps into something and he latches on, desperately dragging it upwards. They break the surface and he gasps for breath, Ishmael limp against him.

The trip back is agonizing. Ishmael is deadweight, their clothes are waterlogged, and Gunk has never been the best swimmer. But Clive is still lurking, and he refuses to drown after all this time, so he manages to drag them both back to the raft through pure willpower and spite.

Gunk collapses next to where he’d heaved Ishmael onto the planks, taking a second to compose himself. Shivering violently, he curls into a ball - he'll have to go for a spare change of clothes. His eyes drift shut. In a moment.

Then, panic seizes his heart as he becomes aware of how still Ishmael is. He jerks up, staring at him, searching for any sign of life, anything-

But a moment later he relaxes, when Ishmael rolls over and starts heaving out saltwater. Gunk reaches over and pats him on the back until it subsides, and he falls back onto the wood.

“You,” Ishmael says, letting his eyes flutter shut, “are so stupid.”

Gunk feels a burst of indignation. “Hey, what the fuck! I just saved your dumbass, Ish-ma-el.” He scowls at Ishmael’s placid little twist of the lips.

“Wilbur,” he murmurs, hands folded over his chest.

“What?”

“My name is Wilbur.”

Oh.

“I’m Tommy,” he says after a moment of silence where it sinks in, what he’d just been told, the trust laid on him, and then lays down next to Ishmael - Wilbur, now.

Wilbur just hums and wraps an arm under his shoulders, tugging him close - which is new; they’re really going all-in with this trust thing, huh? - then says, “So, so stupid.”

“Oi,” Tommy protests, but leans in closer.

Things aren’t really visibly different, after that. They still bicker, still do the same daily tasks, still slip up and call each other ‘Ishmael’ and ‘Gunk’ - though it becomes less and less common, other than with a teasing tone. They finally get their anchor, which means Tommy has the chance to go on land; though he quickly grows to dislike it after an incident with a particularly pissed-off boar.

To an outsider, everything remains the same. But to the inhabitants of the raft, it feels different. More homely. Warmer.

Once, after Wilbur chides Tommy over something or another, Tommy rolls his eyes and says, “You know, we really are like brothers.” He tries to keep his tone joking, and to not let himself hope for the words to be true.

Wilbur freezes. “Don’t say that; I’ll cry.” He blinks once to keep the tears at bay, and tries to push down the warmth in his chest.

(They both fail.)

About four months in, a light appears in the distance, at night. They angle their sail towards it and the dark shadow on the horizon. A few days later, it becomes apparent what it is: a lighthouse.

Inhabited land. Civilization.

They gather their meagre supplies once they dock, then ditch the raft in favour of climbing the lighthouse. And, from the top, off over a hill, Wilbur spots it first, points it out to his brother, who squints-

A Dome.

#wilbur soot #tommyinnit #Fic #enderspeak #sbi rust #crimeboys #Love how we all saw that stream and went #''Yes. Those are the Rust boys.''#Also I can't write anymore apparently. Pain

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seawater-aurelia-writing · 4 years ago

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The Break

Pairing(s): Fem!MC/Yuu/Reader x TBD

Summary: MC finally shuts down from all of her acts of helping with overblots and the countless favors/demands that are asked of her. When the Prefect of Ramshackle is the one who needs help, who steps forward?

WARNINGS

I am not the best at labeling warnings or triggers but I can say that this story is laden with neglect, self-neglect, anxiety, possible depression and attempts to justify the above. There could be more labels that I can add but i’m unsure how to word them - so please exercise caution.

Quick Note: The reader in this story is largely based upon Cinderella, for multiple reasons (#1 being that I want to and #2 being that I absolutely love Cinderella and think she’s amazingヾ(•ω•`)o ) . If that type of character behavior annoys or offends you, I recommend skipping this!

She should have seen it coming; The break. Her break.

Her sight blurred with tears, which spilled over her eyes quickly as she laid upon the floor of the library – cold and alone. In front of her, just out of reach, laid her phone amidst the plentiful books which laid strewn chatoticly across the floor from her harsh tumble. Her phone vibrated constantly cause M/C o flinch as she imagined the messages that must be flying across her notifications; Her friends and upperclassmen asking for favors and why she hadn’t completed what they asked.

‘I need to… get up.’ She thought to herself, willing herself to move her arms but her body was more akin to cold, ancient steel, a machine that had been abandoned and forgotten throughout time; It felt nothing like how she was a month ago, a week ago, a few hours ago. ‘ I have.. so much left to do.’

As she tried to find the will to stand – M/C thought of how she ended up in this position; body battered and bruised after falling from the top of the ladder in the deserted corner of the library.

She could barely life her feet as she made her way down the path, back towards Ramshackle Dorm. In her arms, Grim lay curled into her chest as he slept peacefully in her arms.

‘We both had a long day.’ MC mused to herself, gently pressing his closer as the cold, wintry wind blew harder. She recounted their day slowly, going over each task they had accomplished.

Crowley wished for them to wake up earlier to remove unwanted, viney weeds from around the campus gates, Sam’s Store, and the fencing around the Flying Course field in exchange he’d give them some aid to finally repair their roof. Unable to refuse such an offer, M/C awoke at 3 am to be able to accomplish all of the weeding.

However, Grim had not woken to any of her calls or he just ignored her, leaving M/C to venture into the darkened morning on her own to do the weeding.

After 2 hours, when she was finally able to head back to Ramshackle to freshen up before breakfast, she was stopped by Vil. The Pomefiore Dorm Head all but demanded her attention for an hour in the afternoon, her lunch period specifically, to fetch him some arctic sea water from Azul.

Vil was supposedly unable to pick up the water himself as he had an impromptu photoshoot and Azul would only meet during lunchtime.

Despite the tone he used, M/C could sense that Vil was more antsy about missing his photoshoot -made more evident by the slight twitch at the mention of potentially missing the event. She agreed with a bright smile; choosing to ignore Vil’s comment about grass sticking to her and her ‘odor’ when she turned to leave.

Finally, she made it to Ramshackle and rid herself of the stray remnants of debris before she freshened up. Grim, who finally awoke, all but rushed her from the home before she could rest – determined to beat Ace and Deuce to breakfast.

But as luck would have it, M/C could not make it to the Dining Hall before she was stopped by a rather, frazzled Ruggie, who all but shoved a bag of food onto her. He left rushed orders to take it to Leona as he was asked to help restock the lounge before classes. He ran off before she could refuse.

Grim happily skipped to the dining room, telling her not to waste time since he wasn’t going to save her any of the food. However, before she could rush off – Grim yelled back at her to pick up some tuna for him at Sam’s since she was going out of the main building anyway.

She only nodded, ignoring the hollowed feeling in her stomach and the way it rumbled in protest.

M/C remembers being stopped before she could reach Leona, the botanical garden just in sight. That view had been blocked by the ever-looming, Leech Twins. Floyd grinned down at her and plucked the sandwich from her hands.

“Ah! Koechi-chan is so sweet!~ She brought food for us, Jade” Floyd cheered, ignoring her protests and pleas for him to give her the food back.

“Indeed she did, Floyd.” Jade chuckled, doing nothing to stop his twin, who began to eat the food in front of M/C. “And by the way, Prefect. Vil told us that you would be the one picking up his items later today.”

“Y-yes that’s right. At lunch time.” She clarified, her voice softer as she deflated. In retrospect, she still didn’t know what she could have said to Floyd to make him stop. So many girls on Magicam were adamant about how they maintain dominance over their own friends to avoid being stepped on but they always sounded cruel; Giving instructions to ‘clapback’, to insult them, to physically hurt them or poke at their insecurities to make them listen. She didn’t want to snap at the twins, not only would it not do her any good but angering them isn’t what she wanted.

“Azul needs to push that time to this evening, at dinner. Vil suddenly requested twice the amount and thus more payment is required.” M/C remembered the chill that ran down her spine as the Twins seemed to loom over her even more.

“P-Payment? But I don’t-“

“Rook is handling the payment but,in the even he doesn’t, please he prepared to pay any outstanding fees.”

The Twins ignored her pleas for clarification, with Floyd only turning around to demand that she be present for his basketball practice later today.

M/C recounted how, after that, her day became a blur with random intervals of clarity when another request or demand was made of her.

Ace and Deuce asking her to handle their chores in Heartslabyul of feeding the Hedgehogs and Flamingos while they went to mandatory study hall with Professor Trein.

Trey caught her and asked for her to pick up some cream from Sam’s shop for him. She also picked up the tuna that Grim had asked for and the only thing she could afford to eat to replace the breakfast that she missed – a discounted egg salad sandwich.

A sandwich she could only eat half of, as the other half was given to Silver, who had missed breakfast looking for Malleus. He had not asked anything of her, she remembered, but the way he looked at her was odd to say the least. He was adament on her sitting down and finishing her half of a sandwich before leaving but the appearance of Ortho, who asked for her to run an errand for Idia, pulled her away.

Her classes came and went, leaving her feeling isolated as usual. Professor Crewel, never one to shy away from a ‘training’ opportunity, chided her for using an incorrect about of Phoeniz wings in her potion. He only became agitated when she proceeded to answer his questions about the potion, a simple draught, completely wrong. Grim was of no help as even he didn’t know the answers, nor did Ace or Deuce by what they had said but Ace and Grim took great joy in laughing at her misery.

Normally, it wouldn’t have affect her but today, it hurt.

But she smiled anyway.

Lunch time came and, again, she was stopped before she entered the dining hall. Sebek demanded her help in finding Malleus, who was not present at lunch. Again, Grim deserted her as Sebek grabbed her and dragged her along beside him and Silver to find Malleus.

Again, Silver regarded her in an odd way but he said nothing out of the ordinary towards her.

They never did find Malleus and Sebek took too yelling at her for being unable to be of any use in finding him.

“..Sorry, Sebek. I’ll try harder next time.” Was all she could say, while Silver chided him on being too harsh.

As they made it back to the main building, it was time for classes; She had missed lunch as well.

‘Perhaps that’s why I was so dizzy.’ She thought to herself, managing to prop herself onto her elbows. The floor beneath her moved and rippled, similar to the waves in the great oceans back in her homeworld. ‘Correction, why I AM so dizzy…’

Her mind again wandered back to her day after lunch time; Where her day only worsened.

Without any proper food in her, there was no way that she could stay awake with Professor Trein’s class. Lucius quickly spotted her and alerted Trein, before Deuce could fully wake her up.

“Do you believe yourself too smart to pay attention within my class, Miss M/C.” He sneered, a glare firmly on his face as he gazed down at her.

“N-No, sir. I’m sorry, Professor! It wasn’t-“

“Silence.” His voice was firm as harsh, caushing her to flinch and shrink in her seat. “There will be no talking back to me of any kind. I had high expectations of you, Miss M/C and yet you have a complete lack of manners. As punishment, you will write me a paper explaining the important of Magical History, no less than 10 pages. If it is not on my desk first thing in the morning, then expect a harsher punishment. Do you understand?”

“Y-Yes, sir.” She mumbled, her head bowed in submission. M/C could remined the feeling of the heat behind her eyes; How hard it was to hold back tears in that moment.

She hadn’t expected kindness from Professor Trein but it seemed no one was recognizing that she was doing the absolute best that she could do with the circumstances that she was in.

She was blunt and sarcastic at times, yes, but she can’t think of anyone who can hold their tongue constantly. Yet when she seemed to speak, unless it was humorous in nature or her agreeing with those around her- she went unheard. But if she pressed and asked for help, who would drop their things to come to her aid?

Those thoughts plagued her for the rest of the day;

Even as Floyd threatened and scolded her for missing basketball practice, where she was supposed to stock the ice water and the cool towels for him, even though Epel asked her to pick up some old weights from Ruggie.

Even when Ruggie scolded her for not delivering Leona’s sandwich, calling her a thief for eating the sandwich when she reassured him that she didn’t and that Floyd had taken it.

Even when Ace and Deuce whined and complained about letting them down for not feeding the animals properly, when she couldn’t do it properly as they never explained all of the rules to her.

Even when Azul asked, demanded, that she find a specific book for him within the dark recesses of the library before closing as Vil’s additional fee– the thoughts never left her.

In truth, she was merely an anomaly in this world; An irregularity that didn’t belong, didn’t have a place within this magic, twisted world that she found herself in. She was without even the most basic magic to help her through her day to day life as the other had. M/C didn’t know even the most basic of terms within classes that would help her – shown by her struggling grades and performance.

She wouldn’t last outside of NRC, even Crowley had alluded to that. She had no birth certificate, no I.D. on her person, and no family of which to speak of.

Who would risk their own education and future to help someone who wouldn’t be able to do anything on their own anyway?

Even Grim, the other half to her ‘whole student’ was beginning to separate from her as his magic was matured and refined.

But that was why she smiled, was it? She smiled because she liked being needed, feeling as if she had a place in a world where she had none. Even if it ended with her being overworked, sleep-deprived and feeling so hollow – she was needed. A little suffering was nothing.

If her friends would excel in the world around her, wouldn’t that be worth it all? They shouldn’t have to suffer and fail in their classes just because a useless anomaly couldn’t handle the most basic of things.

‘It’s fine.’ She thought to herself, finally pushing herself to her knees. She winced, her movements letting her know just how bad her fall had truly been; Her chest hurt and ached with every beat of her heart, her right leg, the one which hit the ground first, was pulsing and red hot and all over – it felt as if fire ants were stinging her.

“It’s..fine.” She mumbled to herself, reaching with shaking hands to begin the task of stacking the books that she knocked over.

“No, it is not.” Came a hardened voice from behind her.

M/C tensed, her eyes widening as she registered the voice as Professor Trein. As she straightened her back quickly, aiming to turn to look at her professor, the room began to spin once more. Sound all around her became muffled as it felt as though her entire was was submerged underwater.

“ -s M/C. Are your manners that abhorrent that you cannot even turn to face when when I speak to y-.” Professor Trien fumed but his voice faded away despite how hard she attempted to focus on it.

“P-Professor…” She whimpered, curling into herself to try to stop the sensations around her; But they never ceased, even as she felt something wet run down her face - a pain beginning to bloom upon her head as she focused on the wet feeling.

And it all went dark.

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getouswh0re · 4 years ago

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TOKYO REVENGERS REACTIONS:

❤︎ forever is a long time, but I won’t mind spending it by your side ❤︎

an; how Tokyo Revengers characters realise they have fallen in love with you; warnings: none, slight angst, fluff, slight manga spoilers

characters; mikey, draken, chifuyu, baji

For as long as you could reminisce, MIKEY and you have been thick as thieves, doing all sorts of shenanigans (with most of them being his idea of course) and enjoying the time of your youth together. How you wish good times could stay like this forever; just the two of you running through the labyrinth of streets without having a single worry about what the future has to offer, the thrumming of footsteps echoing against the asphalt pavements as chime-like chortles reverberate in remnants of the dwindling sunset.

The two of you have been through ups and downs throughout the years, yet you and him would always seek for solace in each other’s company. The one incident, though, which brought both of your hearts closer than ever — was Emma’s passing. In the dingy bedroom, it was the first time you saw Mikey’s walls collapsing as he leaned into your chest, raw cries laced with heart-wrenching pain reverberating through the solemn midnight air. It broke your heart to witness the tough blonde in such a state of despair; he had lost way too many people already, and the light that was long lost in his hollow eyes now bore semblance to an impenetrable void — devoid of life, and the will to live.

“Hey, y/n ...” A meek croak cut through the lingering silence. “What does it feel like to be left alone ... before you get to realise all of the people you’ve loved is gone?”

Hearing that, your eyes were glassed with a layer of tears that was threatening to overflow. Nonetheless, you held it back, leaning forward as you pulled the blonde into your arms and gave him a tender hug.

“I know how it feels, Mikey ... it’s painful, you’re left alone, you want the agony to stop ... but you’ll not be shouldering this on your own. I’m here for you ... when you need me, okay? So please ... don’t bottle up all of these feelings by yourself. We’ll share the suffering and live on. Promise?”

People came and go in his life, yet the only one who stayed with Sano Manjiro until the very end was none other than you — his first love.

DRAKEN’S instincts have always been spot-on, and this is the same just like any other time — the only thing special is you being in the picture. From the day you become acquainted with the gang’s vice commander, Ryuguji finds himself gravitating bit by bit towards you. He would look forward to seeing you at every meeting, feeling his heart sink whenever you can’t hang out with him, Mikey and the others; initially the blonde only thinks that it is nothing more than a measly feeling — friends would look forward to hanging out with each other, right?

But it is soon proven to be wrong when an unintentional comment from him reveals his feelings towards you to everyone.

“Where is y/n? It feels a bit different today —“

As if everything is in slow motion, his friends swivel their heads around — stares burning into the back of his skull with their jaws dropped.

“Dude, you’re totally into y/n huh.”

Oh shit.

Before the blonde realises, everyone starts to bombard him with questions; not that they aren’t happy for him who finally manages to find the one, but rather — how do polar opposites like you and Ryuguji attract one another.

“Dude, you’ve totally found the right one!”

“Man I feel jealous that you have your eyes on them first! I would’ve shoot my shot if I were you.”

“If you don’t man up and confess, don’t blame me for stealing y/n off their feet —“

“Hold on!” A yell from him is all it takes to make the gang quiet. “How do you guys know it’s love? I mean it can be anything —“

“Just how dense can you be, idiot?” The others chime in unison.

Someone save him, boy is hopeless sometimes.

To pinpoint how he has fallen in love with you would be immensely difficult for CHIFUYU, there are way too many moments where he just finds himself diving headfirst into love! But if he has to choose the exact instant which kindled the flames of adoration, it would be every little bits about you which make him lovestruck.

He loves how your gaze softens at the sight of pets running around every time you come and visit him at the pet store he works at, cooing over how endearing you look as your eyes crinkle when kids wave to you on the streets, admiring your patience and kindness towards everyone you meet — the list goes on and on. Falling in love with you (to him) feels like a typical romance troupe which he has read ad nauseam in shoujo mangas, yet experiencing it firsthand is definitely a first for him.

And of all the attributes he loves about you, the one which makes Chifuyu ascertain his feelings is how you could see the good in people whom you hold dear to your heart — him included.

The sky fades into a myriad of pomegranate pink and indigo as the two of you hang out at the park after the gang meeting has ended, each of you eating an ice cream. With you finishing yours first, you turn over to look at the blonde, only to discover that he has some smudged on his cheeks. Seeing this reminds you of your childhood years together where Chifuyu also had ice cream smeared over his face — the nostalgia of it making giggles roll off your tongue, earning a perplexed look from the vice captain of the first division.

“What are you laughing at y/n??” It only make you laugh harder as his whining reaches your ears.

“Nothing! It just reminds me of how we used to hang out at the same spot when we were younger, also eating ice cream whilst watching the sunset. You also had ice cream all over your face back then. I can still remember that cute ass look on your face ~”

“Come on, it’s in the past! Stop mentioning it y/n, I’m going to die from embarrassment before long. You better attend my funeral —“

“Cute and dramatic as ever Fuyu.” You give him a tap on the nose. “But you know what? I feel so glad that fate brought me to this adorable kid with ice cream all over his face back in the days, and I’m grateful for having you in my life Chifuyu.”

Poor boy almost suffers from a heart attack.

BAJI adores your duality; whether it is watching you coo over street cats or casually firing comebacks at his occasionally snarky remarks, he embraces both sides of your personality, thinking it is what makes you unique to him. Other than that, the teen finds himself drawn towards you for another reason. Being the motherly figure of Baji and his friends, you would always make sure they take care of themselves, chiding them gently whenever they neglect their health; it is something in which he values a lot — he might be known as one of the toughest fighters in the gang, but Baji is also a teenager at heart.

Whenever he needs to vent, you would be there to lend an ear; every time he falls ill, you would rush to his house with warm chicken soup and all the necessary medications to take care of him until he feels better (despite him telling you that he is capable of taking care of himself, which he isn’t). Occasionally Baji would show up outside your bedroom window bartered and bruised, and you would put aside the things you are doing at that moment to dress his wounds, giving him a nag on how he should prioritise his safety over anything else.

You are like a pseudo parental figure to Baji — his solace and anchor whenever life doesn’t go as what he expects; he could never ask for more from you, but deep down — the teen knows that people would eventually drift apart someday.

And a part of him wished this would last forever, that he could let down his walls and be the middle school Baji that yearns to be taken care of by nobody other than you.

The longer he’s spent time around you, the more the queer sensation in his gut stirs. Baji could feel his heartbeat becoming frenzied each time he is hanging out with you, and his usual confident facade would drop as the teen stutters over words. And being rather dense at the beginning, nothing dawned upon him until Mikey and the rest almost have to withhold the urge of bonking Baji in the head for not realising how he’s fallen head over heels for you, did he realise all of this is love after all.

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #sano manjiro #sano manjiro x reader #mikey tokyo revengers #mikey x reader #ryuguji ken #ryuguji ken x reader #reader insert #chifuyu matsuno #chifuyu matsuno x reader #x reader #baji keisuke #baji keisuke x reader #tokyo revengers oneshots #tokyo revengers imagines #tokyo revengers drabbles #tokyo revengers fluff #tokyo revengers scenarios

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julek · 3 years ago

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7) “are we breaking up?” 💕

The ring burns in Geralt's hand.

He's had it for so long, hidden at the bottom of his bag, two old shirts wrapped around it for good measure. He's looked at it on starless nights and turned it on his finger over and over again for long winters. He's written hundreds of pages under candlelight in Vesemir's library while staring at it, watching the shapes it cast on the walls where the light met its stone.

He's finally ready. His brothers have gone hunting with Vesemir, the candles are lit, and there's a bottle of his best wine cooling in the snow.

Absolutely nothing could go wrong.

Pocketing the ring and putting on a confident smile, he walks over to where Jaskier is napping in front of the fire. He takes a minute to drink him in, the soft slope of his nose golden pink against the furs he's wrapped himself around, his curls mussed and tangled against the pillow. He crouches by his side.

"Jask."

One blue eye cracks open. Then closed. "Mm."

Geralt smiles. "Jask, come on."

"Hmmmmmm." Jaskier screws his eyes shut. "We're closed. Come back later."

Geralt bites his lip, thinking of a way to wake him up that doesn’t involve pouring frozen water directly onto his face. "Jask," he says again, rubbing his stubbled cheek against Jaskier's face.

Third time's the charm.

"Ugh," Jaskier complains, sitting up and bringing the blankets up with him as well. He blinks once, twice, then squints at Geralt. "What."

Okay, not the perfect opening Geralt expected. He can make it work, though. "I need to talk to you."

At that, Jaskier is a little more awake. His eyes are wide and Geralt can feel the way his scent changes, but he can't quite put his finger on what it is. Jaskier makes some room for him to sit, and Geralt nods. "Right."

His heart is pounding, and he suddenly forgets every sonnet and ballad he spent months quoting to Lambert as practice, forgets every eloquent sentence Eskel suggested to him as they fenced. He clears his throat, then takes in a deep breath.

Jaskier's looking at him with curiosity and something else he can't quite decipher, so he takes his hands in his. "Jaskier," he stars.

After a moment, and because Geralt hasn't said anything else, Jaskier squeezes his hands. "Yes?"

He clears his throat again. Gods, it hadn't been as hard when he practiced with Vesemir. "You have been by my side for a long time." Okay, not a bad start. "I didn't want your company at first, didn't need it."

Jaskier's face does a complicated thing, so he hurries to continue. "You were loud and reckless and annoying, and more often than not I had to save you from cuckolded husbands and revenge-seeking fathers," he chuckles. "And it took us a while to get to where we are."

Jaskier's eyes are shining as he looks up at him. Perfect, Geralt thinks. I knew I've always been a romantic deep down.

He gets bolder. "I brought you to Kaer Morhen this winter, after many years of someone," he says, and thinks of Lambert's merciless teasing, "pestering me to let you come. But I think it is time I tell you the truth about my feelings."

Geralt's about to bring the ring out of his pocket when a sob escapes Jaskier's mouth. He looks up, confused. "Jaskier?"

Jaskier isn't looking at him, tears running down his cheeks. "Are—" he sniffs, "are we breaking up?"

Geralt freezes in his seat. Breaking up? Where did Jaskier get the idea—

Oh.

He springs into action. "No, no, no," he soothes, taking Jaskier in his arms, loathing the way his tears keep falling. "No, Jask— Gods, I'm an idiot. I'm not breaking up with you." He reaches into his pocket, pulls the ring out. "I'm asking you to marry me."

"You—" Jaskier lets out a strangled sob and tries to speak, but his tears don't let him, so Geralt pulls him against his chest, whispering sweet nothings in his ear until Jaskier's breathing evens out.

Once he can, Jaskier pulls back. "That was you asking me to marry you?"

"Um." Geralt's still holding the ring, and he aims for a smile. "Yes?"

Jaskier covers his flushed face with his hands, muttering into them. "—the most tactless Witcher in the entire Continent, yes." He takes a deep breath. "You— I—" He closes his eyes. "You know what? Just— go on. What were you saying?"

Geralt swallows, tentatively reaches out for Jaskier's hand. He has a feeling he's sleeping in the stables tonight. "Um." He swallows again. "I was about to tell you about my feelings. For you."

Jaskier nods and pats his hand. "Yes, yes. That."

Taking in a deep breath, Geralt steels himself. "What I was trying to say," he starts, "was that I didn't always see you for who you were. For who you are." Jaskier smiles at that, and Geralt squeezes his hand. "Kind. Loving. Brave."

He rubs the stone on the ring with his thumb. "I do now," he says, looking into Jaskier's eyes, drowning in that blue. "And, contrary to what I made you believe a few seconds ago, I can't get enough of you."

Jaskier sniffs. "I love you," Geralt murmurs in the low light, plain and simple. True. "I never wish to be parted from you."

There's a beat of silence. Then—

"You ridiculous, foolish man!" Jaskier exclaims, swatting at his chest. His grin is blinding. "That was all you needed to say! None of that You were nothing but a parasite, I hated you at first glance—"

"I don't believe I said—"

Jaskier's laughter is infectious. Geralt hears it against his chest as he pulls him into his arms. "I love you, you fool." Jaskier looks up at him. "Ugh, I can't believe you did that."

Geralt lets out a laugh, relieved. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you I practiced that, would you?"

Jaskier laughs again, bright and so, so lovely. Geralt loves him too much. "I fear for whoever had to be the pretend recipient of that so-called declaration of love."

"Hmm," Geralt says, and presses a kiss to Jaskier's cheek. Jaskier turns and catches his lips in a tender kiss, full of laughter and longing and love.

"So?" Geralt says when they part.

Jaskier's dopey grin doesn't waver. "So what?"

Geralt presents him the ring. "Will you?"

Jaskier gapes, taking a proper look at the ring, watching it glint in the firelight. Then, he looks at Geralt with a smirk. "I don't believe I heard a question yet."

"Jask," Geralt groans, but looking at Jaskier's shit-eating grin makes his heart feel lighter. He smiles his softest smile and whispers, "Will you marry me?"

Jaskier's left eyebrow rises, and he puts on a ridiculous considering face. Then, earnest, he says, "Yes."

There's the sound of a bottle popping open behind him, and it makes them turn.

"Shit!" comes Lambert's shout-whisper.

"I told you to be quiet," chides Eskel, and Geralt can hear Vesemir's quiet laugh as well.

"You were supposed to be hunting!" He yells, and, at last, from behind a curtain emerge the Wolves. "You weren't supposed to be here."

Lambert's hands are sticky with the wine he's holding in his hands. "By the way your proposal went, I wouldn't be too worried about clearing the space to consummate your love right here in the hall."

"Lambert," Eskel says, hitting his arm.

Geralt looks at Jaskier. "Sorry." He glares at his brothers. "They were supposed to be gone."

Lambert cackles. "Gods know what would've happened if we'd left you truly alone!" He elbows Eskel in the side. "Bet you pretty boy would've made Jaskier pack his bags somehow."

Taking Geralt's hand, Jaskier clears his throat. "It was a beautiful proposal," he says, and only laughs a little bit. "Very original."

Vesemir joins in. "Son," he rumbles, nodding at Geralt. "Give him the ring."

"Oh." Geralt looks at Jaskier, who puts out his left hand expectantly. He kisses his ring finger before sliding the small silver ring in, the plain but imposing stone shining against his tanned skin. "There."

This time, Geralt's sure that the tears that escape Jaskier's eyes are happy ones. He kisses each one away, bringing the bard into his arms once more.

"I love you," he whispers into his hair. Jaskier says it back against his jaw. They stay in each other's arms for a while, reveling in the warmth of their love, of their embrace.

"Yes, yes, love conquers all, we know,” Lambert says, "but we're not getting any younger, the wine isn't getting any cooler—"

Geralt clicks his tongue, and Jaskier laughs as Lambert keeps listing reasons as to why they should stop making pretty eyes at each other and get their asses to Vesemir's congratulatory dinner. Shaking his head, Geralt stands up. He offers Jaskier his hand. "Are you coming?"

Jaskier's ring scratches Geralt's hand as he takes it. It's a pleasant feeling.

"Always."

#mywriting #i hope you like it! i had loads of fun #thank you for the prompt <3 #geraskier fic #geraskier fluff #answered #anonymous

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dreaminonao3 · 2 years ago

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Sinister Strange/Darcy - birthday party for two

A Much Happier Birthday (AO3)

After over a year of living together, Darcy knew that Stephen often needed time to himself. Years of being trapped in his Sanctum made him feel as though he could only think, feel, and be himself when he was alone.

And that’s fine, she thought as she checked yet another room in the Victorian house she had bought cheap and he had magically renovated. But even he knows he shouldn’t be alone too much. There’s a fine line between introvert and recluse and I’m pulling him over it every chance I get.

She finally found her fiancé in his study. Night had fallen and he had, once again, refused to turn on any lamps, making the room resemble his old Sanctum even more. Darcy rolled her eyes as she turned on the Tiffany desk lamp then moved to join him at his place in front of the picture window.

Stephen had a glass of scotch in one trembling hand, the other in its customary place behind his back. He took a sip as he looked at her, one eyebrow raised. “We weren’t playing hide-and-seek, there’s no reward for finding me.”

“You’ve been in here for so long, I was starting to feel single again.” She watched him take another sip of his drink. He only drinks when the memories become unbearable. “So, which ghosts are haunting you tonight?” She kept her tone light but they both knew how worried she actually was.

“All of them – it’s my birthday.”

Darcy stared at him. “Wait, what? Stephen, we’ve known each other for more than a year. Why didn’t you say anything on your last birthday?”

“I was still healing and didn’t want to burden you.” At her raised eyebrow, he muttered, “Alright, I didn’t feel like celebrating then, happy?” He drained his glass then carried it to the globe bar.

Darcy stayed where she was. “And you’re telling me it’s your birthday now because…?”

“Because the memories are overwhelming tonight and even the scotch isn’t helping this time.” He turned to her then set the glass down before approaching her. “I need something else to silence them.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You want to have sex with me just to get the voices in your head to shut up?” She wasn’t angry, just disappointed.

Stephen still winced at her tone. “When you put it that way…”

“I think we can save the sex for when we’re both in the mood and in the meantime,” she said with a half-smile, “I can think of better ways to distract you.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Such as?”

“Us actually celebrating your birthday. C’mon.” She gently took his wrist and led him out of the study. “How old are you, anyway?”

He was silent for a moment and she realized that he actually had to think about it. “I think I’m forty-seven today but I was trapped in my universe for so long that I’m not sure.”

“Well, forty-seven is good enough to start with, at least.” Once they reached the kitchen, she had him sit down at the island while she got started on his cake.

“I’m not worth all this trouble.”

And we’re back to the self-loathing. “I think you are, therefore you are.” Her back was to him so she held up her left hand, wiggling her fingers so that her engagement ring caught the light. “Would I be wearing this if you weren’t?”

“I still can’t believe you said yes,” he murmured, more than a hint of awe in his voice.

“Believe it, sexy.” Once she had the three six-inch pans of devil’s food cake in the oven, she offered him the mixing bowl and spoon with a smile.

Stephen’s eyes lit up at the “forbidden” treat and he accepted the bowl and spoon eagerly then started licking the spoon.

Darcy had to bite her lip to keep from giggling at the sight as she got started on the ganache. He’s not at the point yet where I can laugh at something he does and he knows I’m not laughing at him, but we’re getting there.

“We haven’t had dinner yet,” he pointed out, “unless you ate without me.”

“You know I wouldn’t do that,” she chided him lightly. “We’re doing things out of order tonight – cake first, then dinner.”

“Distracting me is more important than dinner?”

“Of course it is.” She set the bowl down then walked over to stand beside him and gently take his wrists. “I love you, Stephen. Do you understand what that means?” When he merely stared at her, she continued. “It means that when you’re hurting, I’m hurting. I will do whatever it takes to make you feel better, and that includes an impromptu birthday party before dinner and the best damn birthday sex you’ve ever had later tonight.”

He blinked in surprise. “I thought you weren’t in the mood.”

“I wasn’t in the mood to be just a distraction but I’ll take any chance I get to show you how much I love you and want you.” After a moment, she added, “Please tell me you understand the difference.”

“Of course I do,” he murmured as he stood then he wrapped his arms around her. “Forgive me, Darcy. I’m still relearning how to be human.”

“I know,” she murmured as she wrapped her arms around him. “You’ve come a long way already.” The oven timer beeped and she smiled up at him. “Tell me about your childhood birthday parties with Donna while I finish the cake.”

Stephen chuckled. “Which one do you want to hear first – the year she accidentally destroyed my cake or the year the ‘happy birthday’ banner caught fire?”

Darcy grinned. “The cake, definitely.” She stood on her tiptoes to kiss him softly before reluctantly leaving the circle of his arms to get the cake pans out of the oven.

Stephen sat down again and started to regale her with a story of his younger sister’s antics.

Next year, Darcy thought as she giggled at his story, I will spend the whole day making him feel as loved as he truly is.

#doctor strange #darcy lewis #sinister strange #sinister x darcy

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bbangsoonie · 4 years ago

Text

11:11

member: changmin (q) genre: angst word count: 6,802 synopsis: when changmin finds himself trapped in the past, repeating the day of your death, he’s convinced that he’s been given a chance to save you. warning(s): death

Changmin woke up with a dreading feeling. He hadn’t set an alarm despite it being a weekday. He was hoping to sleep through the day and wake up the next morning. Unfortunately for him, the sleeping pills he took the night before only allowed him rest until noon.

He checked his phone, staring at the date. A year had officially passed by since that fateful day. Groaning, he threw his phone back onto his bed. He stayed under the blanket for a while, not wanting to get up. However, the sunlight shining through his window refused to let him go back to sleep.

Declaring defeat, he sat up and scowled at the sun. It was annoyingly bright today. The weather had no regard for his mood and was unusually warm for a winter day. It pissed him off.

He heard his phone vibrate and chose to ignore what he guessed was Chanhee’s daily check in. Still not fully awake, Changmin walked towards his fridge to grab a cold water bottle. After gulping half of it down, he let out a sigh.

His brain was still at war with himself. Half of it felt obligated to visit you and half of it wanted to drown his feelings in alcohol. He stood there, zoning out, contemplating his options.

Eventually, his guilt triumphed and he found himself throwing on whatever clean clothes he could find. He trudged out of his apartment and down the stairs. On his way to the main road to find a taxi, he passed by a flower shop. The same sense of obligation from earlier made him backtrack and step inside.

It had been over a year since he last visited the place. It felt strange to be back. The emotions he came here with were entirely different from the emotions he had back then.

He asked the worker for a small bouquet of daisies and muttered a word of thanks after receiving his change. After flagging down a taxi, he braced himself for the long ride.

The car escaped from the noisy city and headed towards a more remote area. He almost laughed, remembering how often you would mention that you wanted to be buried in nature and not locked up in a jar behind glass. He used to always chide you for thinking of and planning for your death but in the end, you had been the insightful one. He never thought he’d be traveling to your grave—at least not while he was still in his twenties.

When he finally arrived, his feet rooted itself and he couldn’t bear to walk further. He hadn’t been here since your burial a year ago. A wave of embarrassment suddenly hit him. He truly was an asshole to you until the end. He couldn’t even make things up to you even after your passing.

He hadn’t made any efforts to visit you but it was painfully obvious to those around him that he was still grieving. He blamed himself for letting you die. That burden prevented him from continuing to live life without you. His friends watched as he willingly ruined his own life. He gave up dance and even came to resent music. He spent the past year surviving and not living; he filled his time with part time jobs that would earn him the money he needed for rent and food.

In Changmin’s mind, he didn’t deserve to be happy when your life was cut short. He wished so badly that he could trade places with you.

With another sigh, he made his way towards your grave. He could tell your family stopped by earlier that morning. Someone had left a big bouquet of pink flowers for you. Beside it was a photo of you smiling, oblivious to the tragedy that would occur just a few months after it was taken.

He forced a smile, recalling how you used to complain about how everyone would bring you pink flowers instead of daisies for every occasion. Daisies were your favorite flower and Changmin was the only one who ever remembered.

He placed his own bouquet down and sat next to it. Holding up your photo, he spoke to it as if you would reply.

“It’s been a while hasn’t it, Y/n?” he attempted to say in a cheery voice. “I’m sorry it took me so long to come back. I… I was afraid. Seeing you like this really makes reality hit as if waking up in an empty bed isn’t a strong enough reminder.”

He set the picture down and turned around to face your headstone. Hesitantly, he wiped at a spot and fell into silence.

“Everyone tells me that the accident wasn’t my fault. I don’t believe it but even if it was true, I still hate myself for letting you leave when the last words I said to you weren’t that I love you. Not only did you die a painful death, but you died with the hurt I inflicted on your heart,” his voice cracked as he choked back tears.

Flashbacks of that day flooded his memory. He winced, finally confronting what he couldn’t for a year.

Changmin had left the dance studio angry. Angry at himself. Angry at his inability to perfect the choreography. Unlucky timing had you outside waiting for him to finish. He had planned on blowing off some steam by meeting Sunwoo for drinks but was stopped by you. You had noticed how upset he was and wanted to cheer him up but was brushed off.

Changmin knew he was snappy when he was pissed and didn’t want you to be on the receiving end. He wanted to spare you from walking on eggshells around him and knew that Sunwoo would quietly let him rant without getting hurt by his actions or words. Instead of clarifying, however, he let you misunderstand and walked away.

You watched him leave, staring at his back. The past month with him had been rocky. You knew he was stressed from preparing for the upcoming competition but you still missed the bubbly Changmin. Nowadays, he was more sensitive and on edge than happy and affectionate.

You had bought matching couple rings in hopes of brightening up his mood. They were simple rings made of silver and meant for the pinky finger. It was to symbolize your promises to each other—to always love and appreciate each other. Yours was already on your pinky but his was left in the box you were hiding in your pocket. You sighed and figured that you’d get the chance to give it to him later.

Except that chance never came. Changmin only came across that ring later when he found it on his table back at his place.

“You know, I left you knowing you probably thought I was irritated with you too. It was because I assumed I’d get to clear that up later. Like always. But later never came,” he fidgeted with the ring that now never left his own pinky.

What a cruel way to teach him a lesson.

“I guess at one point, I started taking you for granted. Taking our time together for granted. Who would've known that death would literally do us part before we even made our vows?” he chuckled at the irony. “I never told you but I intended on proposing to you as soon as we graduated. I got ahead of myself and was planning things way in advance. Would you believe me if I said I already decided where to go for our honeymoon?”

He could almost hear you laugh. If you were next to him, you’d lean on his shoulder as you doubled over in laughter. You had loved and teased him for his sweet side.

“That’s how sure I was that we’d get forever together. You spent the rest of your life with me but now I have the rest of my life ahead of me without you. A little unfair, don’t you think?”

Changmin had so many regrets. He wanted nothing but to go back in time and re-do things. After bottling everything inside him for a full year, everything was spilling out now that he was there with you.

You and Changmin hadn’t moved in together but you often slept over. That day, you waited until night for him to come home. He never did.

Sunwoo had called you from the restaurant they were at, asking you to come pick Changmin up. He wasn’t completely wasted but he was definitely too drunk to go home by himself. Sunwoo apologized, saying he couldn’t take him home because he had a prior arrangement to attend.

So you ended up sitting across from your boyfriend, waiting for him to sober up a little more before leaving the restaurant. This was not how you thought you would spend your anniversary with him. When he stormed off from the dance studio after spending the whole day there, you had already presumed he forgot what day it was for you two. You tried to be understanding, knowing that he felt extreme pressure about the competition.

You didn’t expect any gifts but you had hoped that you would at least have dinner together. But now that was also out of the window. You suppressed your annoyance and reminded yourself of how happy Changmin was when he was dancing. You wanted to be supportive of him.

“Why did you come here?” Changmin asked. Something about his tone irked you.

“What?” you frowned.

“I’m a fully grown man who can find his way back home fine,” his words dug a knife into your heart. You wondered if he forgot that you were the reason why he made it home safe and sound after drinking.

“You should be thankful that I always take care of your drunk ass,” you huffed. “You know, you can’t just count on me to do all these things for you. I do it because I want to but that doesn’t mean I don’t deserve to be appreciated.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” he sighed.

You hated that look on his face. He had that look often nowadays. That tired look that screamed that he was too tired to even argue with you. It scared you. Even arguing took interest that he didn’t seem to give you these days. You would rather fight with him than live in such silence.

So you did. You exploded at him.

“No, Changmin, I don’t know. I never know what you’re thinking anymore. You don’t tell me anything and just assume that I can read your mind. And it feels like I’m expected to play the role of your girlfriend when you don’t even act like my boyfriend. You need to take a step back and realize how grateful we should be towards each other.”

After your outburst, you waited for his response. You waited for him to either yell back or apologize. Anything to show that he still cared. Instead, he said something that made you wish that he just didn’t say anything at all.

“Why are you being like this today?”

You felt the knife dig deeper into your heart and his words stunned you into silence.

“You’ve changed,” you whispered.

And with that, you got up and left. Realizing he screwed up, Changmin ran out to chase you. It had gotten late and dark while he was inside and the sky was now pouring buckets. Without an umbrella, you were getting hit by the rain that hid the tears wetting your cheeks. When he finally caught up to you, he grabbed onto your wrist and spun you around to face him.

“You asked why I’m being like this? Today? Well, news flash, Changmin. Today’s our third year anniversary but I guess I’m the only one who cared to remember,” you cried.

His heart shattered at the sight of your face. He never meant to upset you. And he certainly didn’t mean to forget your anniversary. It had slipped his mind while he was focused on practicing. All that seemed futile when he saw the pain on your face.

You didn’t give him a chance to reply and shook his grip off of you. Wanting to avoid him, you ran to cross the street before the light turned red. At that moment, however, a car failed to break in time and the rain caused the driver to lose control.

Changmin’s eyes widened as he watched the vehicle crash into you. The noise was terrifying but seeing your body fly in the air and fall to the ground was even more horrifying. His legs moved before his brain processed the scene he just witnessed. He ran to your side and tried to shake you awake. His hand trembled when he saw that it was bloodied by the wound on your head.

The driver came out of the car, feeling both disbelief and guilt about what just happened. Changmin screamed at him to call the ambulance before returning his attention back to you. He begged you to stay alive but you took your last breath that night at 11:11.

After Changmin came back to Seoul, Chanhee caught him outside of his apartment and dragged him to dinner. He knew that his friend would be mourning all day and not remember to eat. So they went to a nearby restaurant and he practically had to shove the soup into his mouth.

By the time Changmin arrived home, it was late. He washed up and plopped onto his bed, wishing the day would hurry up and come to an end. Staring at the ceiling, he waited for sleep to take him out of his misery for a while. Eventually, his fatigue took over and he fell asleep the second the clock turned to 11:11.

When he awoke, he didn’t feel as groggy as he normally did. He felt strangely well rested. Wondering how long he had slept for, he checked his phone for the time. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion when he saw the date. It was yesterday’s date but with the previous year. He figured it was a cruel glitch on the device’s part and threw it back down.

He got up to get ready for his shift and fumbled around to look for the sneakers he just recently purchased. No matter how hard he looked, it was nowhere to be found. He found it odd but settled for an old pair of sneakers he hadn’t worn in a while.

After he put them on, he turned the doorknob to leave. He swung the door open and was shocked at the sight in front of him. You were standing there, holding a bag of groceries. Just like you did a year ago.

“Uh Changmin?” you stared at him, waiting for him to move so you could walk in.

Changmin was speechless. His brain felt like it stopped functioning; he didn’t know how to react to the familiar scene in front of him.

“Is this a dream?” he asked out loud.

His heart was racing. You hadn’t shown up in his dreams in so long. Now that you appeared to him, there were so many things he wanted to tell you. He wanted to tell you that he didn’t mean to hurt you. That he was sorry. But in that moment, all he could manage to do was pull you in for a hug.

“Is something wrong, baby?” you asked.

“Everything. N-nothing,” he stuttered.

Was he supposed to talk to you about everything that happened? Was he supposed to just enjoy reliving this day? He couldn’t decide.

You chuckled at the peculiarity of your boyfriend, finding him endearing. You motioned for him to move over and let you in, which he complied while still in a daze. You placed the groceries on the table and began to put away what needed to be refrigerated.

“Are you going to the studio to practice today as well?” you asked, opening a small carton of milk for your boyfriend.

He slowly took the drink you handed him and nodded. He then shook his head, not wanting to repeat his mistakes.

“Today’s our anniversary. We should do something special,” he suggested.

You lit up, excited to go on a date with him. You were glad you chose to dress up today.

“What do you have in mind?” you asked.

“Hmm how about that art gallery you’ve been wanting to go to?” he smiled at your happy expression. “I haven’t had lunch yet so we can eat some pasta before we go.”

So you two headed out to your favorite Italian restaurant and he ordered a bunch of dishes. You had protested, insisting that you wouldn’t be able to finish but he insisted that he wanted to spoil you that day.

He felt like he was on cloud nine as he watched you enjoy your meal. He missed this. He missed seeing you wiggle in your seat because of how good the food was. He missed cutting your steak for you because you were clumsy with knives. He hoped the dream wouldn’t end any time soon.

Noticing that he wasn’t eating much, you picked up a slice of pizza and held it in front of his mouth. His cheeks filled up after he took a bite and you laughed at how cute he looked. Your laughter prompted him to laugh as well, showing off his dimples that you loved.

You left the restaurant stuffed and was ready to fall into a food coma. Yet you couldn’t refuse when Changmin bought you your favorite ice cream. You strongly believed that people had a second stomach for dessert. You walked with the ice cream in one hand and with Changmin’s hand in the other. You stuck closer to him and leaned your head on his shoulder. He turned to look at you and didn’t want to ever look away.

After spending a couple of hours at the art gallery, you found an arcade and tugged him inside. You bet on dinner over three rounds of a vintage game, which you won. You cheered when your victory flashed across the screen, making him chuckle. To be honest, he let you win by pretending to slip up at the end but seeing your joy was worth it.

To Changmin’s discomfort, you chose the samgyupsal place that you two had fought at. Of course, you didn’t know that and just wanted to spend the night eating meat and drinking beer. Although hesitant, he agreed to your menu selection.

Changmin was indescribably elated to be able to sit and chat with you for hours. He didn’t even notice the rainstorm that began once again outside. He was too busy listening to you talk about one of your assignments for a random elective class you took but ended up liking. You rambled on about how your professor was extremely kind and lenient with grading.

By the end of the night, you two left the restaurant and he grew anxious, anticipating the end of the dream. You took notice of his sudden change in demeanor and questioned him about it. Before you could hear an answer, however, your hat was snatched and taken away by the wind. Not wanting it to get wet and dirty, you chased after it.

It all happened so fast. Again. Just as you were about to catch the hat, it blew further away, causing you to step out into the road. And again, there was nothing Changmin could do about the car that crashed into you.

This time, Changmin woke up with the feeling of falling from a tall height. The sensation startled him awake and he jumped up gasping. He scanned his surroundings, unsure of what he just experienced.

“A blissful dream turned into yet another nightmare,” he groaned.

He paused, reaching out for his phone to check the date. Both his jaw and phone dropped at the repeated date.

“No way,” he muttered. He shook his head, refusing to believe what was happening. “This doesn’t make any sense.”

He racked his brain for any plausible explanations. Surely this was another dream. A dream within a dream. Or maybe he’d finally lost it and was hallucinating everything. Believing in the latter, he made up his mind to finally go to the therapist Chanhee had been bugging him to go to. He quickly got dressed and put his shoes to head out. He paused when his hand grabbed the door.

“Surely it won’t happen again… right?” he wondered out loud.

To his surprise, you were there again on the other side of the door when he opened it. Trying to figure out what was going on, he slammed the door shut and froze. Outside, you blinked at the door in your face. Puzzled at your boyfriend’s behavior, you knocked.

Inside, Changmin flinched at the sudden noise. He was bewildered and beyond confused. This had to be a joke. Or a dream. Or a hallucination. How could you be real? There was no way you were actually back.

Or maybe, it was his chance to set things right. Maybe, if he did everything right, he could prevent your death. The idea sounded ingenious and insane to him. Taking a leap of faith, he flung the door back open and gazed at you. Still skeptical, he extended his hand out to hold yours. It felt warm, unlike the last time he held it in the rain. He wanted to cry in both shock and joy. He swallowed the lump rising in his throat and took the groceries from you.

“Are you okay, baby?” you asked, following him inside.

“I’m okay as long as you’re with me,” he said in a shaky voice.

You chuckled as you began to organize the groceries just like you did the day before.

“Are you going to the studio to practice today as well?” you asked, opening a small carton of milk.

Changmin stared at the milk you offered again. So many thoughts ran through his head as he tried to understand the situation. He determined that this was a blessing. He was given an opportunity to go back in time and change things. To save you.

“Let’s go watch a movie today,” he said.

He thought out and planned the rest of the day. He would sneak out in the middle of the movie to go buy a present for you. Using the excuse of an upset stomach, he went and bought a necklace he had been eyeing for months. It was quite expensive so he had saved up little by little and now he could finally afford to give it to you.

With the corner of his eye, he saw a couple looking at the ring section together. As if caught in a trance, he found himself walking towards the engagement rings. He gaped at the endless options of diamonds that sparkled as bright as your eyes. He bit his lip, contemplating if he should buy a ring as well. He initially wanted to wait until you both graduated but graduation never came for you. It was one of the biggest regrets of his life.

So he carefully took a look at the rows of rings until he saw one that immediately felt like it was meant for you. He quickly asked the worker to help him with his purchase and ran back into the theater to finish the rest of the movie with you.

You didn’t suspect a thing until he took the necklace out after lunch and put it on for you. You beamed at the surprise gift, eager to show him yours. Shyly, you retrieved the couple ring from your purse.

“It’s a promise ring meant for your pinky,” you explained as you slid it onto his finger. “A promise to always love and appreciate each other.”

He smiled at how proud you looked.

“See?” you showed him the ring on your own pinky.

“I love it,” he held his hand next to yours, admiring the view. “But uh I actually have a ring for you as well.”

With his heart pounding, he pulled out the square box and stood up. He took a deep breath before getting down on one knee, making you gasp. You felt tears brimming your eyes as he opened the box to reveal the diamond ring.

Watching proposal videos had always made you cringe. You didn’t get why people would cry. But in that moment, it all made sense when you found yourself unable to verbally reply. As a college student, you never expected him to propose. Sure, you had thought of marrying him but that seemed like such a faraway idea. You knew Changmin would always be in your future and didn’t see yourself marrying anyone else but him. So you managed to nod before he placed the ring on your finger.

“I know the timing may seem premature but with you, I want to have the courage to do what my heart desires. I want to see you walk down the aisle towards me. I want to show the world that I’m yours. I want to spend our honeymoon at Bora Bora and have two kids together. I want to raise a dog with you, just like you always dreamed of. I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” he confessed.

After hearing his words, you couldn’t hold back your tears anymore. He embraced you in his arms and you buried your face into his chest as you sniffled. Resting his chin on your head, he wished time would stop. All he wanted was to stay in this moment forever.

By the time night approached again, he made sure to keep you away from the street and from any vehicles. You wondered why he was being so overprotective and clinging onto you. He didn’t offer an explanation and just gave you a nervous smile.

Looking at his watch, he let out a deep breath when he saw that it was almost 11 PM. His leg shook anxiously as he held your hand tighter. You had insisted on enjoying the sounds of the city in the rain so you two were sitting at a random bus stop.

All of a sudden, the cry of a child was heard. You turned around to see a little girl who seemed to be lost. You stood up to go help but Changmin sat you back down.

“You stay here. I’ll go,” he said, feeling uneasy.

While he brought the little girl to the bus stop to avoid the rain, a young boy caught your attention. He was playing with a ball and you wanted to warn him to be careful. Before you could open your mouth, however, he dropped the ball and ran into the street to get it back. You panicked, seeing a motorcycle speeding towards the kid.

You ran out to pull the child back but was hit instead. Changmin’s heart dropped at the sound of the collision. When he turned back to find you, you were laying on the wet ground with blood pooling around you. Seeing you die for the third time wasn’t any less traumatic. In fact, it broke him even more. He hated himself for letting it happen again.

“Y/n, please please wake up,” he begged as he held your face in his hands. “You can’t leave me. Not again. I promised myself that I would change your fate. Y/n, please!”

Every time Changmin woke up, that day repeated itself. And each time, he would try to keep you alive. But no matter how hard he tried, that cursed time of 11:11 always ended his brief time with you with the same outcome.

When he kept you inside, you fell down the stairs. When he tried to make you sleep by tucking you in early, you never woke up. Thinking it was Seoul that was the problem, he even took you down to Busan. Paranoid, he even spent the whole day and night with you at his place. But every time the clock hit 11:11, the inevitable would occur and he would wake up to repeat it once again.

The seventh time he awoke to the same day, he screamed in frustration.

“What the hell am I supposed to do?” he yelled out.

He cried into his sleeves, wondering if this was his punishment for being unable to save you. While he wallowed in grief, he heard you knock on his door. He wiped away his tears and got up to greet you. Oblivious to his mood, you walked in and opened the refrigerator like you did the previous times.

“Are you going to the studio to practice today as well?” you asked, opening a small carton of milk.

“Let’s just stay in today. I’ll cook you something,” he bitterly smiled when he saw that the engagement ring was no longer on your finger.

He rummaged through his kitchen, looking for ingredients. You sat down next to the counter and watched as he made you kimchi fried rice. You enjoyed watching him cook. He didn’t do it often because he wasn’t very confident about his skills but you loved the gesture. You thought it was cute when he had that concentrated look he usually saved for dancing.

After lunch, you spent the next few hours watching movies. You had eventually noticed how sad he was. You looked over at your boyfriend who seemed preoccupied with his own thoughts. Mustering up some bravery, you proposed watching a horror movie. You knew it was his favorite genre but didn’t watch scary movies with him often because you got scared easily. Slightly surprised by your suggestion, he agreed and let you choose one of the recommended movies on Netflix.

At every jump scare, you snuggled closer to him. Throughout the whole film, you clung onto his arm and he comforted you by stroking your head. Treasuring the time he got to spend with you, he allowed himself to feel at ease for a bit.

For dinner, you convinced him to go out to eat. On the way back, he lured you into a gift shop, kicking himself for not preparing a present ahead of time. While you were busy looking at the dolls, he managed to pick out a bracelet and slid it into his pocket after secretly paying for it. He knew it would be gone when the day reset and dreaded having to see your listless body again later.

When you two returned back to his place, he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. He wanted to savor every second he was able to spend with you. Noticing his gaze, you stared at him back, bringing a smile to his face. You poked his dimple, laughing at his expression.

“So I got you a little something. I hope you didn’t think that I forgot our anniversary,” he said as he put it on your wrist.

Smiling, you took out the gift you had prepared.

“It’s a promise ring meant for your pinky,” you said as you slid the ring onto his finger. “A promise to always love and appreciate each other.”

“See?” you revealed the ring on your own finger.

After hearing those words for the nth time, he finally broke down. He began to bawl, catching you off guard. For a few minutes, he wept as you tried to soothe him.

“Okay, spill. What’s been bothering you all day, Changmin?” you demanded.

He sighed, knowing what he was about to say was insane. He didn’t want to scare you but it all came out as word vomit.

“I’ve been reliving this day multiple times. I know it sounds crazy—it is crazy—but I was sent back in time. It’s actually supposed to be a year from now, a day after today. But instead, I’m stuck in this endless loop trying to save you. You died, Y/n. You died a year ago and you keep dying again and again! I thought I was given this opportunity because of all the regrets I had. The day you died, I was a complete jerk and you got into an accident after we argued. I blamed and resented myself. I had so many “what if’s” and “if only’s” that it tormented me,” he paused to catch his breath.

“I thought I had to repeat this day until I successfully prevented your death but nothing’s working. I can’t change things!” he cried. “I’ve tried over and over and over again. I’ve tried keeping you away from the street, taking you out of the city, and even locking us up in this damn apartment and nothing’s working! Every time 11:11 comes around, the same conclusion happens.”

You sat in silence, unsure of how to process all the information he just threw at you. He was way too emotional for this to be a joke and too upset for it to be unreal. But at the same time, you wanted it to be fake. You didn’t want to believe it. You were still so young. You had hopes and dreams you had yet to achieve. You wanted to crumble but you couldn’t bear to do so after seeing how heartbroken Changmin was. After thinking for some time, you finally spoke up.

“Maybe you were given a chance not to save me but to let me go,” you said quietly. ”You said you regretted the day I died. Maybe this is your chance to get closure. Send me off in peace. Find peace yourself.”

“No. No way. I’m not letting you leave me again. Not after all I’ve been through,” he said, desperately hugging you. “I finally get to hold you in my arms again. It’s okay if I have to relive this day forever. As long as I can see you, I’m okay with that.”

“Changmin...” your heart broke at the sight of his crestfallen face.

You let him keep his tight hold on you. He was so afraid you’d disappear again that he refused to let you or himself fall asleep. You looked at the clock and saw that the time was approaching.

“Baby, you know you can’t. I’m not coming back to life. I can’t. That’s not how the world works. We were blessed to have the chance to say our final goodbyes. Not everyone gets that. We’re lucky. We get to remind each other of how much we love each other and I get to tell you that I want you to be happy even if I’m not by your side. I’ll still be with you. In your heart. As long as you keep me there,” you pulled away to meet his eyes. “I don’t want you to be miserable without me. I want you to live your life to the fullest. Let me live vicariously through you.”

“But I have so many things I want to do with you. So many things I never got to say to you,” he stammered.

“Nobody gets to fulfill all their desires,” you smiled sadly. “Just know that I know how you feel. I know that you love me. I know that you want to grow old together. I know that you want to see mini me and mini you. I do too. I’m so sorry I won't be able to do that with you.”

Tears rolled down your cheeks. Admitting it out loud made it feel real.

“You have no idea how badly I want to walk down that aisle with you. I want to live happily ever after while bickering with you. I want to see you dance and I want to succeed in my own career. I hardly lived over two decades but you made me so happy for most of it. I’m glad I got to love you. It’s a shame I won’t get to get my degree after studying so hard but there are bigger regrets. Like wishing I had spent more time with you. Wishing we took more trips together.”

Changmin looked at you with a pained expression. He wished that he had taken more pictures with you. That he had gone on more dates with you. That he made you laugh more.

“I guess we were given this opportunity in exchange for all of that. At least now I’ll get to leave knowing that I’m loved and that you know I love you. Our last day wasn’t spent arguing but hugging,” you pointed out.

The two of you lain wordlessly on his bed. The only sound was the clock on his wall ticking.

“Can you tell my family that I love them? And my friends too. I wish I could say goodbye to everyone but that would be greedy of me,” you said wistfully.

At his silence, you turned to look at him. When you saw the guilt on face, you sat up and beckoned for him to do the same. You glanced at the clock, taking note of the time.

“Ji Changmin, I love you. Thank you for making me the happiest girl in the world,” you smiled with tears in your eyes. “While we make promises with this ring, can you also promise me another thing?”

You waited for him to nod before continuing.

“Promise me that you won’t blame yourself for anything and that you’ll move on. I want you to have all the extra happiness I’ll miss out on. I’ll be expecting you to lead a fruitful life for my sake too,” you held out your pinky, waiting for him to wrap his around yours.

“It’s okay if I start to fade out of your memory over the years,” you added. “I’ll understand when my face starts to become fuzzy to you. I’ll even understand when you get married and have kids. I’ll be your kids’ godmother and look out for them. I can’t wait to see little baby Ji’s.”

“But I don’t want that if it’s not with you…” he whispered.

“Don’t be silly. You’re still young and have the rest of your life ahead of you. I’ll be mad if I’m the one that’s holding you back. Now, hurry up and promise me. My arm’s hurting,” you shook your pinky at him, urging him to lock fingers together.

It tore him apart but he shakily held out his hand to make his promise. More tears escaped his eyes each time he blinked.

11:05.

Changmin held your tear-stained cheeks in his hands, staring into your eyes. You hated the sad look in his own eyes but knew yours was the same. He hated the ominous feeling that predicted that this would be his last time in the loop. Now that he came to terms with the fixed ending, he would be freed from his desperate desire for a different outcome.

“Thank you, Y/n, for teaching me what love is. From when I first met you up until now, there hasn’t been a single moment that I didn’t cherish. I love you. I love you so so much. I spent the past year unable to forget you and I never will. I’m going to believe that you’ll be watching over me and I’m going to make you proud. I’m going to experience both my and your share of happiness. So don’t worry about me. I won’t be able to follow you soon but I’ll join you up there one day. Please wait for me.”

“I may be your first love but I certainly don’t hope I’ll be your last. Instead, I hope that I’ll be your endless love,” you hummed, feeling drowsy.

“Of course,” he affirmed. “I love you, Y/n.”

“I love you too, Changmin.”

Changmin awoke feeling oddly comforted. The sun was shining through the window again and his apartment didn’t feel as empty for some reason. He eyed his phone and hesitantly picked it up. He was filled with mixed emotions when he saw that the year was finally set back to the present.

Out of habit from the past week, his eyes lingered on the door. You weren’t going to come knocking again but you also weren’t going to die again. You were finally sent off in peace.

His phone vibrated, notifying him of Chanhee’s daily text message. Chanhee was a persistent one as well.

Changmin decided to reply and asked him to grab breakfast together, which earned him an immediate “yes”. He told his friend to invite Sunwoo as well and got up to get ready for an outing for the first time in a long time. This was his first step in the healing process.

a/n: tbh i kinda cried writing this. i hope you cried too hehe also idk if you noticed but the line ��endless love” is actually from the boyz’s “priority”. i really like that phrase and it’s been stuck in my head ever since the song came out

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holidaywishes · 4 years ago

Text

Hate Sex

Summary: You had been friends with Mo since you were kids but his friendship with Auston made it difficult to spend time with him.

Warning: Smut obviously, it’s in the name.

Author’s Note: Honestly, I’m not an Auston Matthews fan; I actually think he’s kind of trash, but for some reason, I wanted to write this little thing because if there’s anyone I can write a Hate Sex fic about, it’s Matthews. It’s a short fic but it’s straight to the point. So, there’s that explanation -- I know I wrote a bunch about him a while back so there’s some Auston content on my masterlist but he’s not my go-to because I think he’s woefully problematic. Anyway, hopefully, you all enjoy this little thing that I wrote and I’ll be back to writing the few requests I have saved in the next week or so. Stay Golden, loves! <3

masterlist

the other masterlist

From the second you met Auston, you hated him. His smug face and big ego taking up the entirety of any bar or restaurant the group was in, the way he only spoke to models or his teammates; never their girlfriends, never girls who were just his average fans. He was a dick and you hated him. That was always made perfectly clear to him and you were pretty sure he felt the same way. You always tried to keep your hatred for him contained, to not cause a scene, to not embarrass your best friend; but, one night, he pushed it too far.

“WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM?” You yelled to the tattooed #34, who stood in front of you, smirking, “I don’t understand why you would come here if you were just going to act like this...”

“Act like what?” he teased

“Act like you.” You countered, dropping your hip before crossing your arms across your chest, “If nothing here is good enough for you, then you can leave. You clearly don’t want to be here and I don’t want you here”

“I came here with my friends. When they leave, I’ll leave.” He said

“(Y/N), please,” Morgan begged, “don’t do this”

“I’m sorry, Mo,” you replied, “I can’t take his.. childishness anymore”

“Let’s just go talk, in your room, okay?” Mo tried but you shook your head

“Sorry everyone, party’s over! Time for you all to grab your stuff and head home. Thanks for coming” you yelled

“(Y/N)...” Tessa said calmly while you directed everyone out of your apartment

“I’m sorry, T,” you sighed, “I just need... everyone to go. I need him to leave”

“Let’s just take a breath, everyone’s gone, let’s talk” Mo pleaded

“Your friends a dick. What more is there to say?” you bit

“It’s not my fault you’re so sensitive” Auston sneered

“Sensitive?” you scoffed, “I don’t get why you’re even here! There’s no one here for you to flirt with or hook up with. There’s no one here for you to impress. But you come here to complain about EVERYTHING”

“He was--”

“I tried to ignore it because, whatever, it’s not a huge deal that he hates the food,” you interrupted Mo, “but every time I walked by it was something new. It was the couch, it was the amount of space, it was the size of the TV, it was the windows, it was the lighting. Everything. There was no need for it and I’m over it.” You waited for Mo or Tessa to come to Auston’s defence but neither did, so you turned on your heels to open the door and ask them to leave.

“We’ll leave,” Tessa finally said, “but I think the two of you should talk, sort this out.” Before you could argue with her, the two of them were gone; leaving you alone with the one person in the world you couldn’t stand. You turned around to find Auston leaning against your counter with his arms crossed, a small smirk on his face, and you scoffed.

“You can leave now.” You chided

“So, what? We’re just gonna lie to Mo and tell him we talked?” He scoffed

“Yes. That’s exactly what we’re going to do,” you rolled your eyes, “because, let’s face it, we don’t want to talk to each other. I don’t care what you have to say and you don’t care about anyone but yourself. So... that’s pretty much it.”

“Fine.” He said

“Fine.” You replied

“I think there’s something else going on though” he teased

“I’m sure you do”

“I think you wanted me to flirt with you, to impress you, and when I didn’t, you took things too personally”

“Check your ego, Matthews.” You rolled your eyes, fluttering around your apartment to clean up the mess that the guests were forced to leave while Auston followed you around to continue his claims

“I think this whole ‘you hate me’ thing is actually just a game”

“A game?” you dismissed, “you are so delusional.” You tossed a bunch of garbage into a bag in your kitchen before making your way to the front door, with Auston close on your heels, “thanks for the talk. I’ll let Mo and Tessa know that we solved everything and we’ll never have to speak again.” You felt his breath on your neck before his hand connected with the door, his palm flattening as he held it shut in front of you before leaning down to put his lips next to your ear

“Games are fun...”

“You need to leave.” Your voice quivered as you turned around to face the 6 foot 2 Toronto Maple Leafs centre, he closed the space between the two of you, keeping his palm on the door while the curved brim of his hat met the top of your head as if it was made to fit there. You weren’t sure what he was planning as he leaned down and watched your lips part when all of a sudden his lips crashed onto yours, his arm dropping from the door and his hand cupped your cheek. You were quick to push him off, slapping him hard enough for the sound to echo through the room and he countered by grabbing your arms with either hand and pushing you against the wall, your chest heaving as you watched his lips twist into a smirk. His eyes began to trail down your face to your chest before he turned his baseball cap around and his hands let your wrists go so he could trace down your body, his breath sweeping across any bare skin that it met before he knelt down in front of you and pulled down your leggings, kissing your inner thighs before he moved closer to your core. You felt your eyes flutter shut as a flood of heat rushed over you, serving as your permission for him to continue, feeling his finger enter you and you gasped at the sensation. Auston continued his ministrations, pushing your hips flat against the wall with his free hand, and you tried not to make too much noise for fear that your neighbours would hear. Thin walls really were a burden in moments like these. When Auston’s lips found their way to your folds, your breath began to hitch in your throat and your back began to arch as his tongue worked on your clit; manipulating the small nub until your hands were forced to fall on his head, squeezing the fabric of the cap on his head as your body writhed in pleasure. His hands glided to the back of your thighs and his fingers began to dig into the skin while you cursed under your breath until Auston eventually kissed his way back up to your mouth

“Fuck, you taste so good” he breathed across your lips making you scrunch your nose at his words

“Shut up” you groaned, pushing his shoulders back slightly only to earn a smirk from him

“What?” he whispered before connecting his lips with yours and caressing your body with his fingers before stationing them at the side of your breasts, breaking the kiss to moan something in your ear, “I knew you’d taste good”

“If this is going to work,” you sighed, taking off his hat and placing it on your head, “you’re going to need to shut up.” You stared at him for a second and that same grin that had been on his face all night resurfaced and you rolled your eyes

“I know a way that ca--” you kissed him to shut him up, knowing that was the only way, feeling his hands move around your body to pick you up and carry you to the kitchen table; the two of you messily swatting away whatever was on the surface. As you tore off Auston’s t-shirt, he continued ravaging your neck, harshly kissing behind your ear before the fabric impeded his intentions, forcing him to let out a growl and you to laugh. He fingers rushed to the hem of your shirt and you prepared yourself for the cloth to be ripped from your body but instead he pulled his lips away from yours, his eyes landing on yours while he slowly lifted the fabric over your head and let his arm drop to your waist, pulling you close to him until your chests heaved against each other. Your hand trailed down his body until you reached his waistband, pushing his pants down to free his already hard member and guided him into your entrance. He groaned against your skin as he thrust into you harder and harder

“Fuck” you breathed, pushing him further into you by the small of his back before he pressed you flat onto your back, grabbing your hips and crashing into you, “shit!” you moaned loudly, finding his arms with your hands as your head stayed against the table and you scratched down his skin

“Fuck” he moaned back, his hips crashing harshly against yours and his pace began to quicken. “Fuck” he repeated, you pulled yourself up to push your breasts against his chest, wanting better leverage, and you felt his body vibrate as you wrapped your legs around his hips and whispered in his ear to keep going. He slowed down his movements, deepening his thrusts and began kissing along your neck while his hands grabbed your sides.

“Mmm” you hummed against Auston’s ear, your breath becoming shallow and uncontrolled, “fuck me. Harder. Mmm, shit.” You felt him bite at your collarbone as his deep thrusts became shallow once more and his pace quickened. You could feel him reaching his peak so you fell back against the table to allow him to ram himself into you; he pulled out in just enough time for his warm liquid to cover your stomach. You scoffed and sat up while Auston walked away, ‘glad to know I’m just here to be used,’ you thought to yourself, surprised when he came back with a damp cloth to clean you up, “Thanks...”

“I can be a nice guy, you know” he chided

“Not that I’ve seen” you sneered, throwing his hat back at him, only now realizing that you’d had it on this entire time

“I told you,” he started, a grin finding its way back onto his face, “I like games.” You could only roll your eyes at his statement as both of you began to redress. The silence made it clear to you that this shouldn’t happen again but you still found it difficult not to stare at Auston’s tattoo sleeve as his arm flexed and tensed as he put his shirt on, “so what do we tell Mo and Tessa?”

“Nothing.” You said sharply before clearing your throat, “you think we’re going to tell anyone about this?”

“I was thinking we’d tell them something since they’re the ones who told us to ‘work this out’” he said

“We’ll tell them what I said we were going to tell them before anything happened between us.” You countered, “we’re going to tell them we talked, sorted out what we needed to and agreed to keep our drama to ourselves. That’s it. We don’t need to tell them that anything more happened. Because it’s not going to happen ever again. I don’t do Hate Sex”

“Why not?” he asked

“Because,” you scoffed, “I’d prefer to have someone actually respect me.”

“Well..” he smiled, “at least the sex was good. I think we should do it again...” you were about to say something when he continued, “but, I won’t push anything.” You thanked him before sending him on his way. “Thanks for the good time” he laughed, earning an eye roll from you

“Goodbye, Auston.” You smiled

“Here,” he said, placing his baseball cap on your head, “it looked better on you anyway.” You were surprised when he kissed your cheek before walking out the door; it was a small moment of kindness but it didn’t change anything. Auston was still Auston and tonight was just a lapse in judgement.

part 2

#Auston Matthews #Auston Matthews smut #Auston Matthews fic #Auston Matthews imagine #TML #NHL #Hockey #Toronto Maple Leafs #masterlist #the other masterlist

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sgwrscrsh · 4 years ago

Text

winter days: underneath the tree

☁️a/n☁️ this made my heart very warm to write even though i pulled an all-nighter to get it done because my time-management has gone to shit after finals. requested by @sachirou-senpai. thank you, ellie, for giving me a reason to bring back my boys. i’ve missed ‘summer on you’ so much. this can be read as a stand-alone or as a spin off of ending b, my fave. either way, merry christmas to my babes who celebrate! i have one more christmas fic for tmr and then i’m hiding away to plan + write an smau.

includes: female!reader, poly!seijoh four, post-timeskip (very minor manga spoilers), lots of domesticity, a little suggestive bit, a lot of eating and sleeping now that i realize, a christmas tree, matching pajamas, a very special christmas gift, makki slapping your ass once, a lil teary moment w tooru, homemade curry + pancakes (but not together), lots of cuddling, lots of love, happy holidays, 4.35k words

☁️masterlist☁️

shivering slightly, you unlock the door to the rather spacious apartment you shared with your four boyfriends later into the evening than you would’ve liked.

yes, four boyfriends. whom you love very much and are loved by in return.

living with four towering hunks has it’s ups and downs, but you wouldn’t trade tooru’s extensive skin care regiment sprawled across the bathroom counter; hajime’s bag of protein powder that he always forgets to put away; issei’s boots that you always tripped over when you came through the front door; or takahiro’s costco-sized box of cream puffs in the freezer that he insisted he would finish by the end of the month, almost half a year ago, for the world.

you made sure to stomp off the snow stuck on your boots before entering the building, but you couldn’t help but sigh at the warmth that greets you once you toe them off.

“ahhh,” you think. “thank goodness tooru convinced us to invest in heated floors.” another perk of having four boyfriends was that two of them brought in enough bank for you to seriously consider becoming their cute little housewife. snorting, you shake your head, though the idea of prancing around in a maid outfit to tease them seemed very appealing. “maybe we should make hiro dress up and clean the house since he still hasn’t found a new job yet.”

“what’s so funny, sweets?” speak of the devil. makki’s head pops out from the bathroom nearest to the front door, steam rolling out and droplets falling from his hair, signifying that he had just taken a hot shower. wordlessly, you stare at him, lost in thought imagining the water caressing his toned body, but a second later, he gets a better look at you and laughs. “you look like a wet dog!” your glare loses some of its edge when he takes in your own damp strands.

“did someone say something about a dog?” tooru comes bounding round the corner, and you could’ve sworn he drooped a little when he realized it was just you in the hallway sans dog. turning your icy glance on the setter, you open your mouth to complain about how mean the two of them were being to you when your prince charming comes in to save the day.

“you two, stop bullying the poor girl and let her take a warm bath before she gets sick!” iwa chides as he helps you unbundle the layers that protected you from the snow and sharp winds of the winter. pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead and promising to pick out comfy clothes for you, he ushers you into your spacious en suite where a steaming tub full of rose petals awaits you. hajime chuckles at the starry eyes you give him, heart warming at the love and appreciation shining clear as day on your face, before he leaves to grab a clean pair of underwear, one of issei’s t-shirts, and a pair of his own sweats, knowing you much prefer to wear their clothes at home.

submerged in the bath, you exhale contentedly, eyelids fluttering shut as you enjoy the product of iwa’s consideration and foresight. letting the stress of work and the chill of the outdoors melt from you, you stay in the water until it cools and your fingers prune. a lone thought of how much more you would’ve enjoyed the bath if the boys had joined you flits through your mind, but you jolt when you open your eyes and find issei sitting on the counter with a towel and your robe in his lap, some of the water sloshing over the side of the tub.

“oh thank god, i was scared you fell asleep and would drown or choke on a rose petal.” you giggle while he wraps you up in your robe before gently toweling your hair dry. “you can’t leave me to deal with the three of them alone.”

rolling your eyes, you retort easily, “if anything, i’d feel bad about leaving hajime to deal with the three of you alone. the poor man puts up with enough from his team, he doesn’t need you guys ganging up on him, too.”

“well i’ll have you know, sometimes he really enjoys us ganging up on him.” his cheeky quip paired with his wiggling eyebrows earns him a smack on the chest but regardless, you let him sweep you up into his arms and drop you on the massive bed the five of you shared. “get dressed, babygirl. as much as i’d love to spend more time with you naked, i gotta help haji finish dinner.” with a quick peck on your lips, issei leaves you to do just as he said.

emerging revitalized and relaxed, your mouth waters at the smell of homemade curry, distracted enough to not notice tooru’s arms wrapping around your shoulders and waist.

“hey, cutie, i’ve missed you,” he sings, face snuggled into the junction of your shoulder and neck. you spin around in his hold to slip your arms around his slim torso, relishing his firm lines against your soft curves.

“‘ve missed you too, tooru.” and you really did, grateful that all of you were able to take time off work and he was able to come home a week before the holidays, giving the five of you a whole month to spend together before he had to jet back to argentina for his next bout of training and practice games.

“hell yea! group hug!” makki comes running towards you guys, only for you to twist out of his reach at the last second, sending him straight into the sofa behind you. “oof, that was cold, y/n.”

you stick your tongue out at the strawberry boy. “yea, well that’s what you get for laughing at me when i got home. sucker.” still entangled in tooru’s embrace, you feel his body shake with mirth and bite the inside of your cheek to prevent yourself from dissolving into giggles when you see a pout take over hiro’s pretty face.

“dinner’s ready,” comes iwa’s call, beckoning the three of you into the kitchen before you could antagonize each other some more. once you all got your servings of curry, you settle into your proclaimed seats on the large sofa, your body comically small compared to their tall frames dwarfing the cushions. noting the way tooru threw his long legs over iwa’s and how mattsun and makki leaned against each other as they ate, you fold your legs to tuck your feet under takahiro’s thigh and dig in to your meal with some trashy reality show lighting up the tv screen, completely certain that the warmth in your chest was from the company of your loved ones more so than the piping hot potatoes in your stomach.

during breakfast the next day, you blearily rub the sleep out of your eyes before taking a sip of your coffee, a satisfied “ahhh” escaping your parted lips as you lean against the kitchen counter. slowly peeling your eyelids open, you notice all of their gazes were focused on you. “yes? can i help you?” you ask amusedly, awake now that caffeine had be introduced to your tired body.

“how are you still so gorgeous in the morning?” you blink at the dreamy look on iwa’s face propped up in his hands with his elbows on the surface of the island. looking around, you see the other three matching the athletic trainer’s pose and expression next to him. thinking over your messy bedhead, mysteriously stained pajamas, and almost impressively dark eyebags, you want to scoff, but the unfairly handsome men giving you their undivided attention despite all of that (“because of all of that, y/n-chan,” tooru would argue) make you blush instead.

“you’re one to talk, haji,” you opt to remark, hoping to divert their focus from you and your rosy cheeks. “and don’t look at me like that,” your pointed finger swinging wildly between the four of them like the needle of a compass. “you already know you guys are way outta my league, you don’t need me to tell you that.” with one last flourish, you wave your hand dismissively before grabbing your mug with both hands, palms warming against the ceramic.

“as wrong as you are, you can’t blame us for wanting to hear the love of our lives compliment us first thing in the morning as we admire her natural beauty,” mattsun grins once he sees the success his words have at deepening the flush on your face. tooru nods gravely in agreement, but it’s makki’s one-two combo of a wink and an air kiss that breaks you. you roll your bottom lip between your teeth to stifle a laugh but release it immediately when the playful atmosphere takes a heady turn. clearing your throat, you pay no heed to their hungry expressions, knowing full well that they all noticed your little action and how they would react to it.

“a-anyways,” you stutter, “i’m gonna go get ready ‘cause i have things to do today so-” you try to slip by, leaving your empty cup in the sink, only to get caught in your tracks by hiro’s long arms.

“ah, ah, ah, princess. and where do you think you’re going?” soon enough, you find yourself surrounded by your smoking hot boyfriends and heat up in anticipation of their next moves.

“this so isn’t fair,” you complain aloud, though you were just as eager as they were to get you out of your worn sleep clothes.

“tough shit, babygirl. guess you’re just gonna have to add four more things to your to-do list, huh?”

naturally, you leave your errands for some day later in the week when you’re able to walk properly again.

the opportunity comes when you rise earlier than the rest of them, a rare occasion where you found yourself graced with the freedom of sleeping on the outside instead of being sandwiched in the middle of the bed. tiptoeing about, you brush your teeth and get dressed, somehow managing to not wake any of the sleeping beauties. you scribble little love-filled messages on post-it notes and stick them around your apartment on your way out, but not without one last soft smile in the direction of the bedroom, the sight of the four of them cuddled together through the door left ajar renewing your motivation to accomplish your tasks and come home sooner.

with your laptop bag in tow, you set out for your first destination, settling into a corner booth at the coffee shop with a full cup and a pastry. once you finish your breakfast, you pull out your laptop and get to work, scouring the internet for the perfect gifts for your lovably imperfect partners. you rack your brain for any recollection of any moment where they would’ve let a potential present slip into conversation and light up when you come across volleyball print pajama pants. you check the availability of the sizes you needed and upon realizing that they were all in stock and would be delivered before christmas, you place your order without a moment’s hesitation. satisfied with your progress, you pull up the animal shelter’s hours before heading out of the cafe, the barista’s greetings and the jingling bells echoing behind you.

by the time you return home, it’s late in the afternoon and you’re greeted by a wall of warm bodies as soon as you step through the front door.

“where’ve you been, babe?” once again, takahiro is the first to meet your return, but this time he plants a sweet kiss on your lips with his long fingers encircling your waist after his inquiry.

“oh, you know,” you sigh, dazed from the saccharine embrace. “out and about.”

“busy day? hope it was productive.” you nuzzle into tooru’s chest, feeling the timbre of his voice through your skin, and nod.

“as a matter of fact, it was.” their eyes soften at the proud grin stretched across your face. but your grumbling stomach just had to ruin the moment, making the three of you stare at each other before bursting out in chuckles.

“you skipped lunch?” oiks asks, wrapping each arm around yours and hiro’s waists and guiding you into the kitchen. you rub the back of your neck sheepishly.

“i guess so? i didn’t really notice i was hungry until now.”

“good thing we saved your favorite from that chinese place down the street for you,” mattsun comes up behind you and lands a kiss on the crown of your head. you beam gratefully up at him and skip over to the fridge to retrieve the takeout.

“welcome home, love,” iwaizumi emerges from the bathroom to complete the set and gives you a once over. “you look tired.”

“gee thanks, hajime.” he rolls his eyes playfully at you while you wait for your food to heat up in the microwave.

“what time did you get up this morning?”

“uhhh,” you start, mouth full. at iwa’s stern glare, you swallow before answering, “seven-ish? earlier than i would’ve like for a vacation day but it was worth it.”

“hm, well i’m glad you had a good day at least.” you shuffle over to kiss his cheek before dropping yourself on top of where tooru and hiro were cuddling on the sofa, eyes drifting around the room to take in the holiday decorations adorning the space.

“thanks, haji. but you’re right, i am sleepy.” suppressing a yawn, you lean back against the broad chests behind you and tuck back into the paper container. “can we take a nap once i’m done?”

“sure thing, babygirl.” the innocent smile mattsun sends your way turns mischievous with his added comment. “we really tuckered ourselves out while you were gone.” you nearly choke but makki’s hand thumping your back helps you dislodge whatever food got caught in your throat. iwa shakes his head and looks to the side in an attempt to hide his face, but the reddening tips of his ears give him away. meanwhile, oikawa catches your eye and winks.

“how else did you suppose we keep ourselves occupied when our baby wasn’t home?” you get up to toss your now empty container, shaking your head as you go.

“i’m glad to see you at least got the christmas tree up before going at it. god, you’re all insatiable.”

“i mean, it’s hard not to be in this relationship,” hajime grumbles.

“aww, iwa,” makki pushes his lips into an overexaggerated pout. “you make me hard, too.” full-bellied chortles escape the four of you, ignoring iwaizumi’s indignant huffs.

“whatever,” comes his miffed reply, but you know he takes all your antics in stride. soon enough, he returns to the living room with a stack of blankets and finds you and issei added to the pile of limbs tooru and hiro founded. somehow, hajime situates himself to fit perfectly in your cuddle fest, blankets sprawled about to keep you warm.

one last yawn leaves your mouth before you mutter a sleepy, “night, guys. love you,” barely registering the quiet “love you”s you get in return as you drift off, the lights adorning your christmas tree twinkling above you.

christmas day, you wake up before the others again, this time more than willing to feign sleep and revel in the warmth of your shared bed. luckily, you don’t have to wait long for your boys to stir. sitting up, you stretch your arms above you head and begin to climb out of bed only to be caught by the wrist and dragged back down.

“haji, please,” you draw out. “we can finally open the presents under the tree!”

“i don’t care, it’s too early for you to leave me, princess.” you hum as he pulls you closer to him, revisiting your mental note that iwa is much more openly (and selfishly) affectionate in the mornings.

“oi, the rest of us are still here you know.” face buried against tooru’s back, mattsun’s muffled complaint gets hajime to loosen his hold on you.

“yea, yea,” he props himself up on his elbow to lean over you and kisses the former middle blocker’s temple. “unfortunately.”

“so mean, iwa-chan,” oikawa pipes up, stretching his arm across you to caress your boyfriend’s toned arm before lacing his fingers with makki’s. the pink haired man himself, still half-asleep, squeezes tooru’s hand before sitting up.

“hey, wait. it’s christmas, isn’t it?” takahiro’s question reminds you of the package you received a couple days prior, prompting you to spring out of bed before one of them could reel you back in. the four watch you rifle through the closet and resurface with the pajama pants you ordered.

“merry christmas!” you cry excitedly, tossing each boy their respective pair and eagerly awaiting their reactions. “they’re matching pj’s! look, i got one for myself, too.” thankful that you chose to go to bed in just one of iwa’s godzilla t-shirts and underwear last night, you rush to slip on your volleyball print pants. the boys take in your childlike joy, chests tightening at how precious you are. “hurry up, i want you to try them on so we can match!” at your insistence, they roll out of bed and dutifully don your gifts.

“oh these are actually really soft,” tooru murmurs thoughtfully, fingering the fabric on his thigh.

“right?” you pipe up, nearly bouncing off the walls. “i wanted to do something to commemorate our first christmas together in this apartment and i thought these were really cute since volleyball is what brought us together in the first place.” eyes meet each other as you all reminisce that special summer, grateful that you stayed close despite your individual journeys after graduation.

suddenly, the doorbell ringing catches your attention. a brief glance at the clock on the bedside table tells you it’s much later in the morning than you though, but you’re quick to answer the door.

“who could that be?” the boys are left wondering, wandering out into the living room in time to see you wave goodbye to whoever it was with a large gift-wrapped box sitting on the floor next to you.

“babe? who was it?” tooru is the first to ask the question on all of their minds.

“oh, just my best friend. they wanted to drop this off on their way to their parents’ house.” you gingerly pick up the box and bring it to where your boys were waiting for you. “go ahead!”

“go ahead?” hajime parrots.

“yea! open it!”

“it’s not for you?” takahiro ponders.

“well yes and no. c’mon just open it already!” you’re bouncing on the balls of your feet at this point. tooru finally takes the initiative to remove the lid of the box, eyes widening when he sees what it hid.

“oh my gosh,” he breathes. the other three nearly knock heads with how quickly they lean over the opening.

“is that-?” a furry little head pops up over the edge of the box, round eyes peering up at the four of them.

“a dog! yes!” you squeal. “he’s a shelter dog!”

“he is?” hiro is in awe, slowly reaching out to cradle the little guy in his arms.

“i met him the other day when i woke up early and ran errands without you guys. isn’t he just the cutest?” big hands dwarf the small pooch as they gently pet his head and stroke his fur.

“does he have a name?” tooru has the good sense to ask.

“mhm, the lady at the shelter said his previous owner named him ponyo.”

“ponyo…” issei whispered, eyes shining.

“i know we’re nowhere near ready to start thinking about kids,” you start, the topic of the conversation instantly drawing their attention. tooru even ignored ponyo’s little tongue lapping at his fingers. “but i thought we could use an addition to our family.”

“y/n, princess, we obviously all love him already, but we’re busy with work- well, most of us are. who’s gonna take care of him?” hajime questions, almost reluctantly.

“i mean, hiro is home all the time since he’s still unemployed (“i said i was looking, damn!”), but i actually got promoted so my schedule is way more flexible and i can work from home most of the time.” your voice trails off bashfully, but they give you no time to be embarrassed, swallowing you up in a huge hug.

“why didn’t you say anything sooner, baby? we’re so proud of you!” now you know how the dog felt being smothered by their affection, not that it was anything new for you.

“uhh, surprise?”

“fuck yea, surprise! god, you’re incredible. lemme make a list of things we’ll need to get for ponyo once the stores reopen tomorrow.”

“actually…”

“you didn’t.”

“i did, with help from my best friend.” going into the lowest cupboards in the kitchen, you show off the bag of dog food and water and food bowls you bought soon after visiting the shelter. “his bed and crate are in the other closet by the washroom.”

“how did we get so lucky?” takahiro asks aloud, making you blush as the others nod in sync, all of them blown away by your thoughtfulness.

“this is nothing. i just wanted to show you guys how much i love you.” you play with your fingers, a little overwhelmed now that the initial excitement has worn off. “oh wait!”

“there’s more?” tooru asks, shocked.

“but wait, there’s more!” mattsun and makki chime in simultaneously, making you laugh as you retrieve the last present. you hop over to where tooru was sitting on the sofa with ponyo on his lap, scooping the dog up and locking the two of you in the bathroom. a couple minutes later, you open the door to let ponyo scurry over to his dads, who coo softly once they see him come around the sofa.

“when did you have time to do this?”

“my pants were a little long, so i hemmed them one night after you guys passed out on the sofa watching your old volleyball matches. i kinda guessed ponyo’s measurements based on standard info i found on the internet, but it fits perfectly so i’m glad!” looking at the little sweater you made for your new family member out of the extra fabric from your pj pants, you couldn’t stop the pleased grin that broke out on your face. “now even ponyo matches with us!”

while your gaze was trained on the tiny dog that was exploring his new home, theirs were stuck on you, your resemblance with a proud mother struck something in them, giving them thoughts of you with their children. yes, children. but for now they shoved those images to the backs of their minds, meeting each other’s stares to confirm they were all in silent agreement.

“we’re gonna make breakfast, you just sit there ‘n look pretty while you watch ponyo, yea?” issei announces before pulling you into a searing kiss as he walks by.

“not that that’s hard for you,” iwa tags on, kissing your cheek and ruffling your hair following mattsun into the kitchen.

“but i’m always hard for you.” you yelp when hiro playfully slaps your ass, flipping him off as he trails after the other two with a loud hoot. tooru comes up behind you and rubs your sore cheek, spinning you around so that you were face to face.

“why’d you do this to me, y/n-chan?” you meet his frown with a confused look of your own. “now it’s gonna be even harder for me to go back to argentina.”

“oh, tooru,” you wrap your arms around his neck, standing on your tiptoes to bring him close. “you have the next few weeks to spend with us and our new baby.” as if he knew you were talking about him, ponyo pads over to sit by your feet, tail wagging. oikawa sighs melodramatically.

“a few weeks is nothing compared to the months i’ll be gone!”

“oi, shittykawa, you better not be complaining after everything this morning,” hajime hollers from the kitchen.

“love you, too, iwa-chan!” tooru calls back instinctively then he looks back down at you, his eyes giving away how much leaving will hurt him and it nearly makes you tear up with him.

“tooru, baby, it sucks every time you leave us, but you’re following your dreams and doing what you love. and we want to support you all the way, even if it means doing so from across the world. but with my new work schedule, i’ll be able to call or text you pretty much whenever. and just think how much sweeter it’ll be the next time you do come home to us. so don’t be too sad, okay, my love? we’ll all be here waiting for you.”

as the last words leave your lips, tooru has you pulled flush against him, arms wrapped tight around your body. his face was hidden, but you could feel the sobs in hot breaths against your shoulder. you guided him over to the sofa and let him cry, petting his hair and peppering kisses on his tear-streaked face until he tired himself out.

issei, hajime, and takahiro come out of the kitchen with stacks of pancakes and all the fixings, setting them down on the coffee table in front of you once they see tooru snoozing in your lap. iwa picks ponyo up before he could get a bite of your breakfast while you gently shake your boyfriend awake. mattsun and makki set up ponyo’s crate and bedding, leaving him with a toy to keep him occupied while the five of you filled up your plates.

sitting in the living room of the apartment you shared with your four boyfriends on christmas day, stuffing your face with fruit and whipped cream topped pancakes that they made, in matching pajamas with your new rescue dog scampering about, you couldn’t ask for a better gift underneath the tree.

taglist: @lovemeafterhrs @sachirou-senpai @honey-makki @kenmaki

#skye writes fluff #seijoh four #seijoh third years #oikawa tooru #iwaizumi hajime #matsukawa issei #hanamaki takahiro #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #hq #haikyuu poly #haikyuu post time skip #skye writes a series #summer on you: the series

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