#and while I can't find anything on it at the moment

[yuvany]

୨୧ LET ME TIE A BOW AROUND IT

// OT7 ENHYPEN when you want to tie a bow on them

─── ( on 𝓅𝑜𝒾𝓃𝓉) marking them as yours, but not the way most people'd expect !! 𝒇 ! reader ┊ CONTENT: fluff + est relashionship + nicknames + kisses ┊ WORD COUNT : 1181

reblogs + feedback always appreciated !!

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆 - around his wrist

You were playing with his hands, your fingers gently grazing his knuckles in a way that made him feel at home and at ease. The way you carefully, but also affectionately massaged his hands could lull him to sleep any second if it weren't for you aburptly stopping. "Babe, what's wrong?" He asked, his voice sounding groggy as if he had just woken up from sleep. "Nothing, I was just reminded of something." You murmur as you awkwardly hold his hand in yours. "And what's that, pretty girl?" Heeseung sits up straight as he plays with your fingers. "I'll be right back." You kiss his cheek, leaving a hot spot on his face before running over to your room. You returned not long after with a roll of pink satin strands in your grasp. Heeseung watches as you return to your seat and pull out enough ribbon to wrap around his wrist with a smile.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆 - on his clothes

Jay was a big guy on fashion. He always came to you whenever he wanted an opionin on something, and something he walways wanted approval on was his outfits. "Sugar, what do you think of this?" He asked, posing for you as if it were a fashion show. "looks absolutely lovey." You reply. Today though, your comments did not persua him that his outfit did not lack something cruical. "Are you sure? Because it feels really empty, and i don't know what's missing." You shurg your shoulders at this, knowing that you can't do more than what you've already done. While Jay squints at the mirror, you get an idea and rush over to your room as you grab a string of ribbon and run back. "I have an idea." You walk over to him and tie the silky material like a ribbon on his pocket. "This is exactly what I was missing." He gives you a big kiss on the head.

𝐒𝐈𝐌 𝐉𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐔𝐍 - on his fingers

His fingers ran up and down your arm as he mindlessly scrolled through the content that was on his phone. You laid beside him, your eyes glue to the screen, but the feeling of his warm fingers against your skin managed to divert your attention. For a moment, all you could think of was how pretty his hands were as your eyes trailed his moving hands. They were comforting but also very attractive. Something about them just fished you in. "What'chu looking at?" Jake asks, his breath hittig your nape. "Nothing." You blurt out quickly. "I know you like my fingers, yeah?" He teases, and you groan. "So what?" "So tie a bow around them. I've seen the videos you repost on tiktok." He says, his fingers tapping your arm. "right." you murmur and crawl out of his arms to grab the satin ribbon you've kept in your room to the point they were on the werge of rotting. "You just managed to make them prettier, honey." He says, admiring the accessories.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍 - around his bicep

"You know, you've got great arms, babe." You pointed out to your boyfriend while on a wak home. "thanks, I take great pride in these." He releases your arms around his as he flexes his biceps through his jacket. "Like what you see, hmm?" He coos, and you just roll your eyes with a chuckle before continuing to walk without him. Sunghoon sees the uninterest in you and rushes to catch up with you. "Wait for me!" "Hurry up! I'm freezing!" It's these small banters that make everyday bright, and it was always known that you were joking, so he did not take anything to heart. You and him walked around the craft store when a roll of pink ribbon caught you eye. Sunghoon walked over to you and raised an eyebrow at your findings. "Let me borrow you for a second." You pulled out a string of ribbon and tied it around his bicep. "Let me take a quick picture." "Whatever you say, princess." He hums.

𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐎𝐎 - in his hair

Sunoo had kindly asked you to massage his scalp as he felt that he had been a hard worker for the past week and deserved a reward. Through feign objections, deep down you did want to play with his hair - if anything, this was one of may things that you always looked forward to. You sat yourself down on the couch and let Sunoo lay his head on your lap. Your fingers slowly crawling up his head while the TV caught your attention. The muted lights and comfort of you thighs, must've soothed him to sleep. You heard the soft snores and looked down at him to confirm that he was indeed asleep. Recently, you were wrapping presents and the red ribbons were just an arm away. You slowly grabbed it, making sure not to wake him up. It was a challenge, but at least you were finally done. You only hoped they wouldn't slide off when he wakes up.

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐖𝐎𝐍 - around his waist

Christmas was soon, and Jungwon would annually ask what you wanted for this holiday. At the moment, you were sprawled on the cool floor of the livingroom. You see your boyfriend, Jungwon, slowly peek his head in you field of vision. "have you thought of something for christmas yet?" He asked, sitting down next to you as you rise from your laying position. "Not really, have you?" you asked and he shook his head. "i wouldn't want you to buy me something, having you by my side is more than I could ask for." Jungwon smiled as he pressed a light kiss to your ear. "then I can say the same for you, no? I just enjoy having you here." You attempt to lean agaisnt his shoulder, but it seeems like he's already run off to somewhere. Later, he comes back, asking, "can you help me tie this?" He points to his waist. "Why, babe?" You asked. "So that I can be your christmas present."

𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐀 𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐈 - around his neck

It's been a long day of practice for Riki at the dance studio. He comes home all sweaty and aching all over his body. You see this and hurry over by his side. You offer your shoulder for him to lean on but he jokes that you'd be crushed, in which you scold him for saying such nonsense while being in his state. "Go take a shower, you stink, bby." You say, pinching your nose bridge. Riki rolls his eyes, but does as you command. A few minutes pass and the sound of the shower continues to echo through the house, and you start to believe that he might have falled asleep, until he steps out with his hair wet. "Damn, my neck hurts." He complains. "You want me to tie a bow?" You tease, but he replies with a nod and you take him seriously. Now, he is sitting with a scawing tie around his neck.

TAGLIST : @dollyhoon @itjengirl @saeivra @orimuraa @pshwrldd

[yanderedrabbles]

Yandere soldier with Stockholm syndrome

Part Two of Yandere Soldier

Yandere Soldier - Stockholm Syndrome

Yandere! Solider who can't get you to talk to him. You'll sit curled in the corner of the bed, resolutely looking anywhere but at him.

Yandere! Soldier who brings you books, flowers, even old picture albums he finds stashed at the bottom of your cupboard. And still nothing but silence.

Yandere! Soldier who's beginning to think nothing will ever break it. That he's stilled that vicious tongue of yours forever. Who hates himself for what he's done, but what choice did he have? Yes, he's taken you from your home and family and all that was familiar. But was an interrogation room really the better option?

Yandere! Soldier who comes home with a nasty cut all across his arm. Some dumb kid got smart and slashed him when his back was turned and now he's forced into recovery leave for a week.

At first, you just watch him struggle to change his bandages. But something about his injury, this reminder of mortality, sticks with you. You pluck the roll of bandages straight out of his hand and wrap his injury for him.

Yandere! Soldier who stays frozen while you work, terrified of frightening you away. Who basks in the intimacy of it - your bowed head, the delicate smell of your perfume, the pulse fluttering at your throat.

Yandere! Soldier who has to swallow and breathe before he can find his voice again.

Спасибо

Thank you.

You shrug and let go of his arm. Yandere! Soldier who hates to loose your touch. Who wants to pull you back and force you to cradle his face in your palms. But he doesn't want to ruin this tiny bit of progress.

Yandere! Soldier who fills the silence with his stories. Who tells you about his training, his childhood, the places he's been deployed to and how happy he was to leave them. Who teaches you words in his native language, even if you don't bother repeating them.

Yandere! Soldier who comes home exhausted and aching, who sprawls on the bed with a groan and instinctively reaches for you.

Yandere! Soldier who has to bite back a yelp of surprise when he feels your climb onto his back and straddle his waist. You slowly knead at his muscles, massaging away all the knots and tension and lingering aches.

Yandere! Soldier who has to stifle a moan because it feels so damn good.

Yandere! Soldier who finds you waiting at the door the next morning, still as quiet as a monk. He's immediately suspicious. Are you going to make a run for it? Instead you stand on your tip toes and press a quick, uncertain kiss to his cheek.

Yandere! Soldier who keeps touching the place you kissed him, even when it's hidden under his mask.

Yandere! Soldier who cooks you dinner most nights, even if he's dog tired, even if all you do is push it around your plate.

Yandere! Soldier who brings you news of the city and the war effort. The resistance is faltering, it's leaders hunted and put down like dogs. Part of him hopes the news will make you more pliant. Why fight the inevitable?

Yandere! Soldier who doesn't like the way your eyes get hard when he talks about the resistance, the way you clench your jaw and look away from him.

You mutter something and it takes him a moment to decipher it.

"I should be out there with them."

Yandere! Soldier who tries and fails to contain his anger. Who grabs your jaw and pulls you up to face him.

"If you were out there, you'd be dead. Can't you be thankful?"

You're quiet again after that and he stops bringing it up.

Yandere! Soldier who doesn't leave anything sharp around the apartment, but is still surprised when you ask him to trim your hair. He sits on the bed with you between his knees, carefully filtering the hair through his fingers. You're so close to him - willingly - that it makes him feel almost lightheaded.

Yandere! Soldier who carefully dusts the cuttings off you and is secretly pleased when you don't flinch away.

Yandere! Soldier who isn't sure how to react when you start greeting him at the door. At first he watches you warily, expecting you to bolt the second you can. But for some reason you don't and a part of him insists that you're starting to like it here.

Yandere! Soldier who exercises every evening, his shirt off and his black fatigues slung low on his hips. He likes it when you watch him and he'll usually throw in a few extra push-ups just to impress you. He complains that he doesn't have enough weight around for his workouts and you take to draping yourself across his back when he needs it.

Yandere! Soldier who finds himself craving you, even with your cold silence. Who is constantly aware of you around the apartment and has to force himself to look away.

Yandere! Soldier who turns off all the electricity in the dead of winter and claims it was damaged in the fighting. It's icy cold in old buildings like this and it doesn't take long for it to wear you down. Soon you're curled up against him, glaring at him to keep his hands to himself.

And he does, for the most part.

Yandere! Soldier who wakes up to you sobbing, your face pressed into his chest. He tries to soothe you, but you flinch away. You whisper between the sobs, sounding afraid and hateful and needy all at once.

"I love you..."

Yandere! Soldier who instantly understands what's happened. He's spent the better part of his life in war zones afterall, and it's more common than you'd think. Yandere! Soldier who secretly hoped for this outcome all along.

Yandere! Soldier who soothes you as best he can, stroking your hair until your sobs turn to whimpers. He presses his lips to your forehead and tells you to relax, that this was bound to happen, that's it's not your fault.

Yandere! Soldier who holds you in his scarred arms and knows that he's finally caught you, body and soul. Who says the words you long for but dread hearing.

я тоже тебя люблю

"I love you too."

[valalice]

۶ৎ dating older gf! caitlyn kiramman and having to endure the drastic ways the two of you text. cw. age gap (two consenting adults, about a 10 year age gap). reader is a college student. slightly suggestive. a somewhat modern au?

when you first started dating caitlyn you found it endearing and rather cute at how proper she texts you. always making sure to start her sentences when a capital letter and having correct punctuation. going out of her way to correct your speach : "Remember to capitalize I's, darling." // "There should've been a comma between there." // "So many exclamation marks, my baby must be really excited."

she also became rather familiar with all of your quick abbreviations, but not without questioning them : "What does PMO mean?" // "At this point, I know that one!" // "ABT means about?" // "I know BRB. Do you really think I'm that old?"

no matter at what stage you and caitlyn are at she will always keep sending you those chivalrous texts that makes your heart flutter when you read them. they started during the early stages of dating and they just happened to stick : "Good morning, Baby. Just made it to the office, already counting down the hours until we meet up for lunch." // "I hope your classes haven't been too draining today. Remember to eat and stay hydrated!" // "I miss you, pretty girl. Would you mind if I stopped by for a moment to see you?" // "You just continue to take my breath away."

older gf! caitlyn loves to spoil you by randomly sending you money, screenshots of purchases she got for you, or secret gifts that pop up in front of your door. she doesn't think twice when she sends you money or spends money on you, it's so casual for her to care for you in this way. but, it was, and still is an adjustment to openly accept the large quantities of money she's sending into your bank account : "Don't worry about it, darling. You deserve it with all your hard work." // "Got you a little gift. X" // "Spoil yourself for me while I'm away on this conference." // "Look outside your door." // "I have your rent covered for this month, love." // "Treat you and your friends to a dinner."

you love to see how you're rubbing off on her in the way she text. she isn't adapting all of your short abbreviations for words and sayings, but she had adapted the use of you "Adorable emoji faces." as caitlyn calls them, even though you try to tell her they aren't even emojis : "Going to be picking you up in a couple of hours. Can't wait to spend the weekend with you. :D" // "But you could also do homework at my place. ;)" // "The office loved those brownies you baked! You're such a sweetheart. <3" // "Work? >:( I told you I'd take care of you. No need for you to worry your pretty little head about anything."

and when you try to send her suggestive text and decide risky on her phone, on her internet, older gf! caitlyn is quick to put you in your place : "Don't start something you can't finish." // "You're being a little minx today, aren't you?" // "Mhm. You're too cute when you're needy." // "Where'd my good girl go, and why has she been replaced with a brat instead?" // "A please could get you a long way."

. . . as much as you tease older gf! caitlyn on being "so old" and "texting like an old lady" you find all her efforts at keeping up with you (and even correcting you) heartwarming.

[livinghalfway]

Magic Mirror

Summary: A magic mirror shows what a person desires most in the world. It shows Damian his twin standing next to him. Word Count: 1202

“Come on Damian, all you have to do is stand in front of it.” Dick pleaded with him while gesturing for him to step closer to the magic mirror they had recently obtained from a villain’s lair. 

It was a rather plain mirror as well for being a rare magical item; nothing but a full length mirror with a simple black frame. The only interesting thing about it was that it had the ability to show what a person desired most in life when they stood in front of it. 

Once that little trick was discovered the others had quickly jumped at the chance to stand in front of it. Which was foolish in Damian’s opinion; allowing everyone in the room to view your deepest desire. 

“Tt, I think not Richard; I after all already know what the mirror will show me.There is no point in me standing in front of it.” 

Before Dick can continue his beseeching his case though Jason cuts in from across the room; next to the mirror. “Oh yeah? What do you think would show up, Demon brat; you dressed up as Batman?” 

“He wishes,” Tim snickers next to Jason, “It’s probably gonna be something embarrassing and that’s why he doesn’t want to do it.” 

"Drake, if you know what's good for you you'll stop talking!"

Tim gives Jason a nudge with his elbow before loudly whispering, "That sounds like a conformation if I've ever heard one." 

"Tt, how dare-" Damian is quickly cut off from his incoming tirade by Dick jumping back into the conversation.

"Okay! Let's not start arguing with one another." Dick says to all of them before directing his focus towards him, "Damian, if you really don't want to try out the mirror you don't have too. No one is going to force you to." 

Damian merely rolls his eyes as he walks towards the mirror. The only reason he does so is because being Robin is what he desires the most; he knows it. Looking into the mirror will merely be about proving Drake and Todd wrong. "I'll do it Richard if only to shut these two imbeciles up." 

The moment he stood in front of the mirror waiting for the magic to change the reflection Damian knew that he shouldn't have let Tim and Jason get to him. He had done something foolish and there was no going back now as the mirror swirls with a gold shimmer. 

When the distorted image clears once more Damian swears he feels his heart stop. The reflection shown is not one a million years could have prepared him for. It is not him standing at his father's side, Batman and Robin, as he thought it would have been. 

Instead it shows Damian exactly as he is at the moment. He would almost think the mirror didn't change anything if it weren't for the boy in the mirror standing next to him. Even after all these years it was someone he would never be able to forget. 

His twin brother, Danyal, and him standing side by side once more. While Damian stands rigid and shocked, Danyal's posture is relaxed. He's even smiling as he leaning towards him until their shoulders touch in the reflection.

He doesn't feel it though; he wants to feel it. 

All of a sudden it hits Damian that this is what he desires the most out of everything in the world. The only thing he wants is for his brother to be alive and with him at the manor. With the family Danyal not got the chance to know; the family that doesn't even know he exists. 

In the blink of an eye the magical gold swirls take over the mirror once more, and when it clears it is once again just himself looking back at him. 

After what must be an eternity of staring at the mirror Damian realizes that everything around him is too quiet. He snaps his head to the side where his brothers are, and sees the three of them staring back at him. All of them are in varying degrees of shock and curiosity at what they had just seen. 

He considers lying at first. Saying that he had no idea who the boy was. He can't find it in himself to do that though. Damian had kept his brother a secret long enough; maybe it would be good for the others to know. "That Richard was my twin brother; Danyal." 

With those words Damian practically collapses on the nearest chair; feeling drained and exhausted. The others follow suit as they too take seats next to him. 

"Danyal … Danyal was kind. He understood people much more than I ever will." He takes a deep breath, "He was smart and curious. Always asking questions and wanting to understand everything around him. It was always the stars that fascinated him the most."

"Sounds like a good kid," Jason starts, "must have gotten all the friendly genes in the womb."

"For once I think I agree with you, Todd." 

The silence that follows is thick and suffocating. It is luckily broken after a few seconds by Tim's hesitant question, "What happened to him?"

That was the big question wasn't it? What happened to Danyal; to the twin and brother that wasn't with him when he arrived at the manor?

"Danyal … died a couple years before I came here. The two of us were attacked by a group of rogue assassins after our study lessons." Damian swallows, his throat feels tight, "I wasn't as focused as I should have been, and Danyal ended up taking a fetal hit meant for me."

"Damian-" 

"Let me finish, Richard." He snaps. He doesn't think he would be able to finish if otherwise interrupted. "Danyal was dead by the time he was finally brought to the pits. I knew there was a chance it wouldn't work, but I didn't think it would take him completely. His body was never recovered from the pits.I never got to bury my brother." 

It's when his vision starts to blur that Damian realizes that he's crying. Danyal always did have a way of making Damian show emotions that he would rather keep hidden.

He feels himself being pulled into a chest, and for now he doesn't fight against it. Damian's not sure if he honestly could at the moment. 

“Father doesn’t know about this.” Damian continues after a few minutes of silently sobbing in Dick’s arms. 

“He needs to know.” Tim states, “Maybe not today, but soon.” 

“You tell him when you’re ready, short stack. The old man can deal with not being told right away.” Jason reassures him when he doesn’t answer Tim right away. 

"What am I not being told?" Damian feels as if he's been dunked in water when he realizes that his Father had heard the end of their conversation. 

"Father."

"Damian?" Bruce takes in his youngest son's appearance and it doesn't take a genius to know that he's in some kind of emotional distress.Which in of itself is very rare for him to be in.

"Father, please take a seat. There is something I need to tell you." 

[everythingspokenfor]

Part 2

─ ・┈ ・ ── ・┈ ・ ── ・┈ ・ ─

You were in the middle of packing, taking photos off the walls and putting them away in boxes, piles of clothes littered on the floor based on whether you were taking them or donating.

"Didn't realise we weren't close enough, eh?" Bakugou said, arms crossed leaning against the wall of your room.

Startled you looked at him clutching the photos close to your chest."Knock at least Katsuki, you scared the shit out of me." You grumbled as you regained composure and turned back to the task at hand. Partially to get it done, mostly to avoid Bakugou's gaze while you had this unavoidable confrontation.

You should have told him you were moving out, it was a rational thing, you were friends infact best friends, had seen each other at worst, dealt with it too. Should have had an adult conversation about it. But what would have you said "Hey! Katsuki I am moving out because I am in love with you but you have a girlfriend and the sole thought of her makes me sick" yeah not a good argument or maybe evening worst you would just end up crying sobbing pathetically while pointing out you were there for him more but that's not how it works, you suppose. He deserves happiness, and you are glad he found it. You just wanted to find yours too.

"Haruki, your assistant, let it slip that you are moving", Bakugou snarled, nostrils flaring, fists tightening, tell-tale signs that he is not mad but disheartened.

"I was going to tell you", you defended, turning to face him.

"When? huh, when were you going to tell me?", He hissed "When everything was packed, and you had to bid farewell like some sort of formality?", He continued ,moving towards you, for the first time locking eyes and seeing the red-rimmed, swollen eyes your cheeks were sunken too. "What happened, peanut?", He questioned, pulling the photos from your hand and setting the to the side. "Did I do something? I'll fix it, fucks sake talk to me, tell what was it that made you run I'll fix it", He cupped your face and made you look at him.

"I don't think you can fix this one, Suki", you murmured, voice almost catching in your throat because you'll lose him, you'll lose his friendship. For a moment you wished you weren't in love with him, that you could be normal around him, could be a part of his life, let him be a part of yours. But, you had to fall in love with him, ruin whatever ever you had.

"This new apartment is closer to my agency, plus how long do we go about living here, Suki?", you said before woefully pulling yourself away from him, choosing to pack up remaining of things.

"You should have said something, I deserve to at least know, you know? I go to work and your assistant, fucking Haruki, is looking for couches for you.", He said bitterly,"He knew, he was informed, he was fucking involved, and I wasn't, aren't we close? is that fucker closer to you, huh tell me?" He gritted out.

"If you were any less busy with your fucking girlfriend, then maybe you would have helped me," you yelled, words almost getting clogged in your throat, anger finally taking over.

Both of you stare wide eyed at each other, truth finally out, you behaviour making sense to Bakugou, you can see the wheels turning in his head.

He moved closer to you, reaching out, but you pull away like it burns because if you were being honest it does, Bakugou winces at you withdrawal. Your anger, your distance, you silence making sense you heart finally bared open in front of him.

"If you can't tell me what I want to hear then you shouldn't say anything",you croaked, knowing that you are being selfish,"I want a confession Suki and not consolation", you finalized.

Bakugou looked at you before he left the room, perhaps you already knew his decision but that didn't make your heart hurt any less.

─ ・┈ ・ ── ・┈ ・ ── ・┈ ・ ─

[raayllum]

It gets buried along the way because there's more going on—ensuring that Runaan won't be executed tonight rather than tomorrow morning at the top of the list—and because the Callum she came back to is definitely better at hiding his hurt than the boy she left, but he can't fool her. Not when she saw the hurt happen.

I know you're upset, but Ezran, he was my father too—

Was he? You never even called him Dad!

The way Callum's expression had cracked, crumbled, for just a moment, the glassy quality to his bright green eyes. He'd stormed off in a huff with the last word—You are not executing him, not till morning, if you care about Rayla at all—and when Ezran hadn't been able to look at her, Rayla had followed.

She finds him on the bridge outside, the sun beginning to set and bathing everything in a warm yellow.

"Hey." He's resting his elbows on the side of the bridge as she approaches, his shoulders haunched. She places a hand between his shoulder blades. "Are you..." Obviously not okay. None of them are.

And how could he be, when Ezran had thrown that in his face? They both know how much Callum regretted not calling Harrow was he was; they both know how much he sat in years of uncomfortable security over how much Harrow loved him, and Harrow loved him deeply.

"I'm fine," Callum says shortly. "Ezran is just... we'll have to break Runaan out tonight, somehow, and leave before sunrise."

"Callum—"

"You can use your lockpick skills to get his cuffs undone or to cut whatever rope is binding him, and—"

"Callum." She takes him by the shoulders and forces him to face her. Immediately his head droops, his eyes glassy all over again. "Ezran shouldn't have said that. Harrow knew you loved him. Knew that he was your dad. I promise."

This time Callum crumbles into her, arms tight around her waist while he lets out a few sobs against her shoulder. Rayla holds him steady and runs her fingers through his hair.

She can't imagine how unmoored he feels—his home gone, Ezran acting like the opposite of himself, his own grief about Harrow ripped open all over again. His anchor, his little brother, acting like they aren't brothers at all. Aren't family. Just a king and a high mage who's overstepped his bounds, as Ezran had so cruelly reminded him.

Afterwards, Callum takes her hand when she tries to dissuade him from helping her—you've done enough—both his palms warm in the early autumn chill as her own eyes sting, because she just got Runaan back and without Callum's help her chances of losing him all over again is much higher—I would do anything for you—and she lets him, because that's what you do for family, and she could never hate him for his choices. Not when they're so clearly done out of love, always.

Ezran will see that someday. Ezran will forgive them, and before that, Runaan will continue to live.

[star-eyed-angels]

The Masked Ballerina

Mafia!Yunho x ballerina!reader

angst, light fluff 6k

TW: mentions of fighting, abuse, violence, swearing, weapons. As usual, please let me know if I missed something.

Please read at your own discretion.

Where Yunho's search for excitement leads him to the Ballet.

AN: Heavily inspired by the Ice On My Teeth MV. In my mind this exists in the same universe as my Mafia!Hongjoong fic. The chess lore goes hard in this one. Enjoy lovelies 🤍

Also in case anyone cares, the song reader dances to is Masquerade Suite: Maskarad at about 1:18 is when Yunho starts tapping and 1:23 is when he sees their face

MASTERLIST

It’s very rare that Yunho goes out alone. Normally he travels with his guards, a new rule put in place after the Wooyoung incident. He understands its another layer of protection in case someone decides to get a little too close. especially if one of their enemies decides to put a hit out on him. Which of course has happened more times than he can count, but his guards don’t let anyone get within talking distance. It's always kind of fun to him. Watching some dumb soldier try to charge at him. Part of Yunho wishes his guards would just let them through. That way he could have a little fun. Just the thought makes his hands twitch. God is he aching for a good fight. But he knows that would never happen. They would never allow it. It’s their sole duty to protect him. One of their eight bosses who are far too precious to lose. 

Yunho sighs at the thought. His breath coming out in front of him in the cold night air. He knows it's silly to want to get into a bit of trouble. With the power he holds he should be excited at the people who bow before him. But he can't help but want something more. A change of pace. Like tonight and his new habit of sneaking out once he knows the others are busy or sleeping. It started on a whim, his restlessness driving him over the edge. It was normally pretty bad, but this night he swore if he didn’t do something he would go insane. He found himself creeping down the hallway, waiting for just the right moment when he knew the guards would step away before making a dash to the street. He spent the next few hours wandering the city. The solitude was refreshing, not having anyone hovering over him. While it gave him a little rush the first few weeks , the thrill has already started to fade. His little nights out becoming something too close to a routine. 

He’s done his best to spice it up a bit, trying to find different routes. But with legs as long as his, there’s only so much he can do before he’s seen it all. The more he dwells on it, the worse he starts to feel. He tugs the hood of his sweater farther over his head, huffing in annoyance. With his mood slowly souring, he thinks it’s best to run back home. He finds himself turning towards the dark alley. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that he gravitates towards the shadows. He’s always been his skill, hiding in the shadows until he strikes. Of course nowadays he’s more of a boss, giving people his orders. And while it’s nice, can anyone really blame him for missing the action? I mean he’d even be happy to even do a simple hit. Give him a rookie task, hell he’ll take anything at this point. He realizes he sounds a bit like an addict. But God would it kill to have just a bit of excitement in his life? 

He turns to walk into the alley. He's so distracted he doesn't pay attention to the figure hiding in the shadows. 

“Hold it.” a voice calls out.

He’s pinned swiftly against a wall. A small breath knocked out of him, as he stumbles into it.

Yunho looks down to see a gun pointed at his chest. He’s so caught off guard it takes him a second to register what he’s looking at. His eyes trail up the arm holding the gun, finding a masked figure in front of him. At Least a head shorter than him and clearly in way over their head. 

He looks up at the sky, a baffled smile finding its way onto his face.

This isn’t what I meant.

If Yunho didn’t know any better he’d think he’s in a comedy movie. One where he’s the bud of all the jokes. 

“I wouldn’t be laughing if I were you,”

Ah yes the tiny thief. 

Yunho looks back down, the person digging the gun into his chest. He only blinks in response.

“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” they snap, “Just give me your money and no one has to get hurt.”

Yunho grabs the hand holding the gun, nudging it out of the way. 

“I don’t have any money. Now if you’ll excuse me-” he starts to say, but is swiftly cut off.

“What? Are you stupid, I said-”

Yunho rolls his eyes, any other night he’d probably entertain the idea of a brawl. But tonight he’s tired and just wants to be back home. This person clearly either doesn’t know what they’re getting themselves into. He supposes it’s the plain clothes he chose to wear out that make him somewhat unrecognizable. That and the fact that he doesn’t have his usual entourage hanging around him. 

Before they can get another word out he grips their arm, raising the gun up to the sky. He tugs the thief towards him, forcing them to stumble into his chest. They gasp in shock, grip loosening on the gun with the movement. Yunho pulls it away with ease, disarming it and dropping the remaining bullet in a single breath.

“What the fuck,” the masked figure says, clearly bewildered.

They look up, staring wide eyed up at him. It’s only then that Yunho takes notice of their eyes. One a normal color. And the other a stark contrast. Gray in color, mirroring the dark clouds above the pair. The snow continues to fall around the two, silence filling the air. It's in this brief moment that he’s able to really look at them. In the small window of the ski mask he sees the bruises around their eye, the skin clearly swollen and discolored with a black eye. It's easy enough to guess that a person must have given it to them, he’s seen enough beatings to know. As bad as he feels, he doesn’t have the energy for this. 

“Look. It’s been a long day. I’m tired,” he starts softly. 

Yunho calmly lowers their arm, dropping the gun into their open palm. He takes a step backwards, de-escalating the situation. 

“I’m just trying to go home,” 

The thief looks down at the gun in their hand briefly. They glance back up at him, eyes now teary. 

Yunho gives them a tight lipped smile, gently letting them go. He walks past them, the thief, turns only able to watch in shocked silence. Yunho only makes it a few steps away before he feels the need to stop. He can’t explain it, but there’s a nagging tug he feels in his mind. 

He turns to face the thief, who stands there silently, still watching him. They somehow look smaller like this, vulnerable, defeated. He thinks back to the bruising he saw underneath the mask. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know something is more is going on than just a petty crime. 

“For what it’s worth, I hope whatever it is you’re going through gets better,” he says sincerely. 

Despite the actions of the masked figure, he understands what it’s like. Desperation is an old friend of his. A friend that led him down an uncertain path, that thankfully ended in his favor. But he knows it isn't that way for everyone. He gives them one last smile, hoping it conveys more than what his words would.

“Have a good night”. 

With that he turns around continuing to walk down the alley. The thief continues to watch him go, watching him disappear into the cold night.

Yunho’s walks don’t last another week. He’d been able to squeeze in two more days of walking before he’d given up. Far too bored. The short-lived adventure was nice while it lasted. But again he finds himself looking for something else, something outside of his normal routine. 

That's how he finds himself squished into a small seat, front row to a ballet Jongho had been begging to see. Something very common for their household. He’d only tagged along because Seonghwa had to miss it, a last minute meeting with Hongjoong and another group.

And while this isn’t his usual thing, he will admit the show is quite good. To his right, San is clearly not as impressed, He’s only become more restless as the first hour passed by. Now practically squirming in his seat. He leans forward in his seat, glancing around at the others.

“Do we have to sit through this whole thing?” San asks, doing a poor job at whispering. 

“Shhh,” Jongho says from his left side. 

“Is it at least almost over?” he prods.

“Shhh!” Jongho shushes, louder than the first time. 

“But it's boring,” he says, having given up on whispering all together. 

Jongho leans forward in his own seat, shooting daggers at San. 

“It’s not boring, you just don’t know how to appreciate art,” he snaps. He gives one last glare before turning his attention back to the stage. Mingi snickers from his seat on San’s right. 

San pouts, sulking back into his seat. Yunho can’t help but smile at the exchange. He nudges his shoulder, leaning closer to him. 

“Lighten up, it’s not that bad. I’m sure you can find some part of it to enjoy,” Yunho whispers. Mingi grins leaning over as well. 

“The dancers are quite pretty," he says, nodding towards the stage.

Yunho rolls his eyes as San perks up at the mention of the dancers. It’s like he’s just noticed their existence after the past hour. 

“Not what I meant, but to each their own I guess,” he chuckles quietly.

San pays him no mind. Now hyper focused on the performance, or performers, in front of him. 

Yunho watches the dancers, enjoying how easily their movements flow with the music. He recalls the dream his teenage self had of dancing. He was quite good at it too. He even had a scholarship waiting for him, hell he’d all been packing to leave for school. But alas life doesn’t turn out the way it does in movies, now does it? 

A series of hiccups and stumbling led him to where he is now. One eighth of the biggest family in the country. A rook in a set so carefully crafted, that nothing could stand in its way. Never in his life did he think he’d end up here. But when he glances on either side of him, seeing his brothers makes him think that there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

Despite the performance in front of him, he finds his mind wandering, still longing for something new. Anything really. He knows he sounds ungrateful, bratty even. But goddamn would it be nice for a sliver of excitement. 

Fate is funny with her timing as per usual. Clearly having enough of Yunho’s whining she’s intending to smack Yunho right in the face with his desires.

At that moment the dancers step forward right to the edge of the stage. Bodies dipping into a bow with the sway of the music. The costumes glint with the stage lights, drawing Yunho’s attention back to the present. 

Yunho ignores the low whistles undoubtedly from San and MIngi. He does his best to refocus on the performance. He taps his fingers along to the music, counting the beats of the dance in his head. 

It truly is comical the way the way the music builds, unknowingly leading Yunho to his fate. 

The dancers look up at the next beat and Yunho comes face to face with the person in front of him. A ballerina with an eye color that wouldn’t shock anyone, if it weren’t for the other resembling dark storm clouds in the sky. A set of eyes that he’s only seen once, but he could never forget. Yunho feels his heart skip a beat, a small smile tugging at his lips at the memory.

Now this is exciting.

Yunho also takes notice that the bruising is nowhere in sight. Aside for some light swelling, it’s practically invisible. He presumes it’s whatever makeup and other styling that’s required for the show. The dancer takes no notice of Yunho, clearly engulfed in the performance. In three beats the dancer is off, prancing to the other end of the stage. Yunho’s eyes now glued to them. A moth to a flame, a spark. 

Yunho continues to watch, taking notice of the way they glide. As if they were a wind up toy, made only to dance across the stage. The costume only adds to the image. While Yunho knows each costume is made to fit like a glove for every performer, this one is different. For this ballerina it doesn’t appear to be made, but to simply be a part of them. Everything about the way they bring the performance to life looks so effortless. This clearly suits them, in his opinion. 

The performance ends in a flourish, the audience erupting into a deafening applause. The dancers gather on stage, taking their final bows. Yunho glances on either side of him. Jongho no doubt will stop the conductor and offer his appreciation. San and MIngi both speak in hushed whispers, already planning their approach with whatever dancer that's caught their eye. But Yunho only has eyes for one dancer. He easily slips away from the others, off to meet his masked ballerina. 

“That bastard, that’s what he did to you?” Minji asks, turning your face in her hands gently. 

When you’d removed your makeup she’d all but elbowed her way through the others leaving for the night. She’d all but dragged you into her own dressing room, a murderous look in her eye as she scanned your face. After a bit of fussing, you reluctantly tell her about your interaction with your director. How after a bit of back and forth he’d swung his fist, leaving you with a swollen eye. if looks could kill, you’d swear Mr.Hak would be dead if he were in the room with the way Minji glares. You’d done your best to hide it from her, knowing she’d react this way. 

You grab her hands, pulling them away from you. 

“I’ll be fine, it’s nothing a little makeup can’t fix,” you say calmly.

She makes a face immediately, a lecture forming on the tip of her tongue.

“I know what you’re going to say. But you know I can’t leave. Not yet at least.

“I know. But that doesn’t mean you let him do this to you either y/n,” she says bitterly. 

“It was my fault, I kept pushing it and-” you don’t get to finish, Minji cutting you off.

“Like hell it was! I don’t give a fuck how long he’s been in charge, Hak has no right to be doing this to anyone,” she fumed, face growing red with each word. 

"Minji. I promise I’m okay,” You say soothingly. She sighs, taking a few calming breaths. 

“At Least let me give you something. I don’t have much, but hopefully the money will help you out,” she says, starting to walk towards her bag. You grimace, the thought of taking from her when she’s struggling just as much as you makes you feel sick. 

“You will do no such thing,” you say. You walk over to her, stopping her from looking through it.

“But-”

“I’ll find a way to make it work. You know I always do,” you say, giving her a small smile. Minji contemplates, before giving in.

“Fine, but please tell me if you need help. And I don’t care who he thinks he is, you say the word and I’ll kick his ass myself,” She says. 

That gets you to laugh, rolling your eyes. 

When you first started, you'd learned rather quickly that Minji was hot-headed. Fierce in a way that you weren’t. You think perhaps that is why she befriended you so quickly, sensing you’d need a backbone of a friend. Minji was like an older sister. Someone who wanted the best for you, even if her way of showing it could be a little over the top. But you loved her regardless. 

“Thank you Minji, really,” you say, pulling her into a hug. She hugs you back, holding you close. 

“Okay, well I’m heading out hun,” she says, letting you go. She slings her bag over her shoulder.  

“Get home safe,” you say, opening the door for her. She flips the lights off, leading you back out into the hallway. 

“You too. Don't stay here too long,” she says, giving you a pointed look. 

“I won't,” you say.

You walk her until you reach the door to your dressing room. She stops, turning to give you one final hug. With one last squeeze, you let her go. She gives you a final wave, before turning and leaving. 

When she’s out of sight, you sigh, shoulders dropping. You’re quiet as you open the door to your dressing room. You flick on one of the smaller switches, the lights of your vanity illuminating the room. 

You walk over, dropping yourself into the seat unceremoniously. You glance at yourself in the mirror, looking over the black eye for what feels like the hundredth time. The memory of that night, playing in your head like a loop. When you’d first graduated from your arts program you’d been so excited to start your career. It had been hell to make it through. Your heterochromia made it a nightmare to be a dancer. Every audition and casting left you feeling defeated. Each director or choreographer turning you away due to your condition. You’d had to claw your way to performing on a stage, fighting tooth and nail to just be given a chance. It was exhausting but it was worth it. Or at least you thought it was. 

Now as you stare at yourself in the mirror, the version that stares back at you is almost unrecognizable. How could you have ended up here? This couldn’t possibly be what life had in store for you, could it? Suffering for the sake of doing what you love? You could already see the way this vicious cycle was eating away at you. Cracking your soul into pieces bit by bit. You needed to get out. But only a miracle could save you at this point. 

You shake your head, doing your best to shake the thoughts with it. You lean down, tugging the shoes off your feet, and the tights along with them. You groan as you sit back up, muscles still sore from the performance. With a small grunt, you take the last bit of your outfit off, throwing the top to one of the chairs across the room. This late in the night you know you’re one of the only people left in the building, leaving no reason for you to rush to get dressed. You pull your robe down from the corner of the vanity, sliding it onto your shoulders. 

“That was a lovely performance,” a voice calls out, making you jump out of your skin.

You whip around clutching your robe closed as tightly as possible. 

A figure emerges from the shadows slowly, coming to stand a few feet in front of you. 

In the dimly lit room, you can make out the features of a man. He easily towers over you, dressed in all black like a shadow come to life. 

You recognize him as one of the men you tried to rob a few nights back. It takes you a second, with his appearance being a stark contrast to the man who stumbled upon you in the alleyway. Here he looks put together, black suit, hair pushed back, and expensive watch gleaming on his wrist. It's then you take notice of the insignia on his coat. The A against his heart is simple. A circle surrounding it, stitched in a darker shade of black. But the sight still makes your blood run cold. 

Holy shit, you’d tried to rob a member of Ateez, the most powerful family in the country. As if your luck couldn’t get any worse. Part of you wants to laugh at the entire situation, but the fear you feel keeps you rooted in place, scrambling for any escape.

“I didn’t think ballerinas were the type for armed robbery,” he hums thoughtfully. 

You subtly shift your hand to the side of your chair, fingers trembling as you reach under the armrest. 

“This is a private dressing room, you need to leave,” you say, doing your best to appear calm. 

The man hums, reaching into his pocket. He pulls his hand out, holding it in front of him. 

“Looking for this?” he asks.

Your heart sinks at the sight of your knife in his hand. He twirls it with ease, flicking it open to insect the blade. You press your hands into your thighs, swallowing nervously. 

“Please, I’m sorry. I don’t want any trouble,” your voice trembles as you stare up at him. He turns his attention back to you, taking in your fearful demeanor. 

He smiles, making a show of closing the knife slowly. He carefully sets the knife down on the shelf beside him, being slow in his movements. You eye it suspiciously, glancing between him and the knife.

“Don’t worry I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to talk,” he says calmly.

You nod slowly, still eyeing him warily. He nods back, still keeping his distance. 

“Do you know who I am?” he asks. 

Of course you know. Everyone in the country knows his name along with the other seven. The rook who stands in front of you is not to be messed with. 

“Jeong Yunho,” you answer.

The way you say his name sends a bit of a thrill through him. He likes the ways it rolls off your lips. 

“Hmm so you do know my name,” he says tilting his head to the side.

You can only give him a small nod. He begins to walk around the room examining the interior as he goes. You can’t help but keep your eyes trained on him. While he promised not to hurt you, you’d be stupid not to be on guard.

“Did you know who I was the other night?” he prods. 

“No,” you answer quickly. You were desperate, but not desperate enough to mess with him. You curse your past self for being so oblivious. He chuckles, the sounds sending a shiver down your spine. 

“It takes guts to step to a man twice your size like that,” he says, recalling your stupidity. He turns his sharp gaze towards you, further pinning you to your spot. 

“But considering I can see the way you're shaking, I think there’s something else,” he says.

“What were you looking for when you came at me?” 

“Nothing, I- I wasn’t looking for anything I swear,” you say a little too quickly. 

Yunho glances at your swollen eye, letting out a sigh. He knows you’re lying, but he can’t blame you. There was no doubt he was a man to be feared, but right now he needed you to trust him. 

“Look. I can tell you’re smart. So I know you wouldn’t have just decided to mug a stranger for fun,” he says, coming to stand in front of you once again. 

“So what is it that you need, sweetheart?” He says softly. 

You contemplate answering him. If he were here to hurt you, he would have done it already. He clearly wasn’t the type of man to waste his time. Despite your better judgement you choose to trust him. 

“Money. I needed money,” you say quietly.

He tilts his head thoughtfully. The movement kind of reminds you of a puppy. If you weren’t partly terrified, you’d think it looks kinda cute in a way. 

“You don't make enough, dancing?” he asks curiously. 

“No, not really,” you say, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over you. 

“And the black eye, is that part of it?”

You freeze, looking at him in fear. Instinctively you wrap your arms around the edges of your robe, tucking it tightly against you. He notices the way you curl in on yourself. His gaze softens, offering you a sympathetic smile. 

“I’m not here to judge you,” he says softly. 

“They’re from the director,” you confess, quietly. He nods in understanding. He hesitates clearly wanting to say more. After a moment he clears his throat.  

“May I?” he asks, nodding towards your face. 

You think for a moment, before giving him a small nod.

He’s careful as he steps forward, doing his best not to startle you. He leans down, one hand coming to lean against the back of your chair. You feel goosebumps rise against your skin, as he lowers himself to be eye level with you. His other grabs your face gently, tilting your face from one side to the other. He’s delicate with the way he handles you. Strong hand gentle as he holds your chin with his fingers.

“He did this to you?” He asks finally, warm voice fanning across your face. 

“Yes,” you answer, scared to speak too loudly. You feel your skin grow warm the longer he scans over your face. His cologne invades your sense with the proximity, it feels intoxicating in a way you can’t describe. 

His face hardens, a look of anger flashing across his features. It scares you for a moment. But something about the look makes you want to soothe him.

“I asked for more after our last performance. He usually never aims for the face. I just wouldn’t drop it,” you explain, thinking back to a few nights ago. 

Yunho is quiet, eyes scanning over the marks carefully. A fierce need to protect you burning inside him. He can’t explain it, but there’s something drawing him to you.There’s something about you he just can’t shake. A pull so strong, he doesn’t think he could fight it if he tried. Though he doesn’t think he’d want to anyways. He also takes the time to really look at you, finding you even more attractive up close. He’s already seen your eyes, but seeing them up close and personal, he can’t help but find them more alluring. After another moment of admiring you, he lets your face go, still keeping his proximity. 

“Is it just you? Or are there others?” he asks.

“A few. Most of them quit before the first season is up. But some of us can’t,” you answer.

He only nods, clearly thinking something over. The gears turn in his head quickly, looking for a solution to your problems. After a moment, you see a twinkle appear in his eye. A mischievous twinkle that excites you, if you're honest with yourself.

“What’s your name?” he asks, breaking the silence.

“Y/n,” you say softly.

“Y/n”, he repeats. 

The way your name drips from his lips, sends a jolt through you. 

“Will you let me help you, Sweetheart?” he asks. 

You don’t know what it is about him, but you find yourself trusting him. How crazy it is to trust a man like him. He could hurt you, with a snap of his fingers you’d be destroyed in an instant. But he could also be your miracle. You suppose you have nothing more to lose at this point.

You give him another nod, this one determined. 

“Good,” 

“Come with me,” he says, offering his hand out to you. 

Going against every rational part of your brain, you take it. His hand is warm in yours. Something about it feels right, his larger hand holding yours ever so gently. Yunho thinks the same as he looks down at you. He’s so used to holding weapons, things that cause pain. But your hand fits so perfectly in his. Like it’s natural, like it was made to be there. He gently pulls you up from your seat, ready to take his new found excitement into action. 

“Come in,” a voice barks out from the door in front of you. 

You grimace, glancing at the men behind you. Yunho stands with three of the other members of Ateez, who you were introduced to. After getting dressed, Yunho led you to the others, who all looked at you with curious gazes. From there he had explained his crazy plan to all of you. Or at least you thought it was crazy. The other three didn’t even bat an eye. Jongho even looked excited, beaming at the plan laid before him. 

Yunho looks down at you as you give him a small nod to enter. You open the door, walking inside. The other three follow you in. Mr Hak, your company director doesn’t bother looking up. He continues going through the work in front of him, only pausing to take another drag of his cigarette. The door clicks shut behind the last member. 

“Who is it?” he barks out again.

“It’s y/n, sir,” you say, eyeing the men behind you again. 

Your boss scoffs, rolling his eyes at the sound of your voice. 

“This shit again. Look I already told you, you work for me got that? Everything you make comes to me. I own you. Now get out of my office before I-” he starts, voice booming in the small office.

He finally looks up, mid rant, doing a double take at the scene before him. His face goes pale at the sight of you and the four men that tower behind you. You don’t blame him. The sight of them had you shaking where you stood. 

“Gentlemen, what a surprise. To-” he pauses, having enough sense to extinguish the cigarette.

He stumbles out of his chair, hastily coming to the front of his desk. He clears his throat as he does it, clumsily dropping into a deep bow.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” he asks nervously. 

They take over easily, polite smiles on their faces. 

“Mr Hak, is it?” Yunho starts, eyeing the man before him.

“We just wanted to stop by. And bring our praises for the show,” he says adding a touch of sweetness to his voice. 

“Yes, a spectacular performance indeed,” Jongho says, clapping his hands together. 

“Thank you, we do our best,” Mr Hak says, sounding far too prideful. The response makes you roll your eyes. 

Jongho hums, eyes sharp as he watches Mr. Hak. 

“Of course. And that’s why we’re glad to be buying it off of you,” he says casually. 

You do your best to hide the smug grin at the way your boss reacts. 

“Buying?” he asks, clearly confused.

“Yes the theater, the shows, the performers. All of it. 

“While I appreciate the offer, it's not for sale,” he chuckles. 

“Nonsense,” San says, stepping forward. 

He stalks towards Mr. Hak’s desk. Confidence leaking through each of his strides. 

“I think you’ll find we’ve arranged a rather gracious deal, isn’t that right Mingi?” he states, glancing over at the taller member. Mingi hums in agreement, coming to stand next to San. Similar to Yunho, he towers over everyone with ease. The closer he gets, the more Mr. Hak shrinks in his spot. With the four in front of him he’s easily surrounded. Like an animal cornered. 

“We have, but if you feel as though it needs some rearranging we could always have Hongjoong Hyung stop by. I’m sure he can squeeze in a few moments with his busy schedule,” his voice calm, but the implication clear. 

You swear you see your boss’ heart stop as his eyes go wide. He lets out a nervous laugh, quickly waving his hands in front of him. 

“That won’t be necessary,” he says quickly. 

Smart choice, you think to yourself. Even an asshole like him wouldn’t be stupid enough to go against what the men behind you ask. Especially Kim Hongjoong of all people. There was no dealing with Kim Hongjoong. You’d heard the stories of those he visited, none had ever lived to tell of their exchange. That thought sends a shiver of fear through you. 

“Good, then we have a deal,” Jongho says, clearly ending the conversation. 

“Our men will escort you out,” he says, snapping his fingers. The door opens once again. Two guards walk in calmly, looking to the trio for orders. 

“See to it that Mr. Hak collects all his belongings,” San orders, no longer smiling. 

“He should have no need to return to this building after tonight,” Yunho adds, throwing a pointed look at your ex-boss.  

The guards nod, moving towards your Mr.Hak quickly. With orders in place, the others begin to file out of the room. 

“Pleasure doing business with you,” Jongho calls out over his shoulder, continuing to walk out without a second glance. 

Yunho sets his hand on your shoulder, nodding towards the door. You follow him and the others out of the room. You glance back to see Mr. Hak warily eyeing the guards. You continue watching until the door to the office closes behind you. 

The members continue walking down out into the foyer of the theater, .leading you outside

“So you’re really buying the theater?,” you ask, breaking the silence. 

Jongho shugs, glancing up at the bright sign above the building. He has a soft glance in his eye as he eyes the theater appreciatively.

“I practically come here every other week, it was bound to happen eventually,” he says, waving his hand dismissively. 

“Will you close it?,” you ask warily.

“Of course not,” he chuckles. 

“And the other performers?,” you probe, Minji crossing your mind along with all the others, 

“They’re jobs are safe, they will have the choice to stay or seek employment elsewhere. But no one will be forced to leave, you have our word,” Yunho says, soothing your worries. 

You nod, letting out a shaky exhale. For the first time in months things were looking up for you. You were free of Mr. Hak, and you could continue to do what you love without being miserable. 

“I can’t possibly thank you enough,” you say, emotion creeping into your voice. 

You bow to them, taking a moment to wipe at the tears building in your eyes. The four smile at you, being unable to find you anything but adorable. 

“We're not as scary as we look,” San says, throwing his arm around you in a friendly manner.  “Well except maybe Mingi,” he says, glancing at the taller man. Mingi glares, reaching over to swat at him. San ducks out of the way, moving between Yunho and Jongho. 

The action causes you to giggle. Maybe they were right about not being as scary as they look. Something about their presence felt comforting. Part of you wished you could get to know them a little more.  

“So I guess this is goodbye then?” you ask somewhat disappointed.

“Well we do own the theater now, so we’ll be seeing you around,” Yunho says a little too quickly. You don’t notice the way his ears grow red at his mini outburst. The others do. Each of them giving each other knowing glances as they slowly make their way further down the street. Yunho mentally facepalms, knowing he’s never going to hear the end of this later. The next moment makes it worth it however.  

You laugh, the twinkling sound making Yunho’s heart race in his chest. God was he screwed. 

“I suppose that’s true,” you hum in agreement, a knowing look in your eyes. Something about seeing the tall man bush had the butterflies fluttering even harder in your stomach. 

“So I’ll see you around?” he asks, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“I look forward to it,” you say, smiling brightly. With that you turn and walk down the street. You offer goodbyes to the others, before making your way across the street, an extra skip in your step. Yunho watches you go, content to watch you leave. Something telling him the adrenaline he feels is here to stay.

[not-rigel]

The color Blue

warnings: SAD, I cried writing this, sevika mourning isha, descriptions of grief

WC: 830

Sevika is sitting in her office, sifting through documents when theres a knock at her door. She grants whoever is there entry. They enter the room carrying a package, it's an expensive looking box and Sevika rolls her eyes at how gaudy it looks. Leave it to Piltover to make their packages fancy for no good reason.

"From the Kirraman estate,"  the delivery person tells her. She hasn't interacted with Caitlyn in months, not since they fought deep in the underground. The arrival of a package puzzles her. But she's had too a long day of failing to agree with the other councilmembers to care too much about anything right now.

Sevika nods to a chair, "Set it over there."

The delivery person sets the box onto the chair then hurriedly leaves the room. Sevika resumes reading over the documents until her eyes hurt and her head aches. She was questioning her strength, how much longer she could handle councilors barring her progress whenever they could. Everytime she felt she was making strides in securing Zaun's future, they'd band against her and dismiss her proposals. She could handle their looks of disgust, she could handle when they mentioned her past with Silco, but she couldn't handle the pressure. She has to do something right by her people or what was the point in being a councilor at all?

Sevika shoves all the papers from her desk, dispirited from all her recent failures. She was so alone and she was falling apart all over again, just like when Silco died. She shoves the emotion down, not allowing herself to feel it until she was ready to unbox it.

Sevika looks over at the package, thinking that she might need the distraction. She leaves her desk, walking over to the chair the box in sat in. She has some trouble getting it open, only having one arm. She can't wear her mechanical arm while up Topside, it's been considered a weapon and banned.

Eventually the package breaks open and what's inside breaks her. Her entire body is uncomfortably hot, like someone replaced all her blood with lightning. Inside the box was Isha's little hat. It was more tattered and torn than it was the last time she saw it. Gods, what did her little baby go through? Tucked next to her hat, was a letter. 

Sevika plucks the letter from the box, unfolding the paper to read the contents.

"I went back to where it happened. Not that I could change anything but just to remember. I ended up finding this and I couldn't just leave it there. I'm sorry I couldnt save her. I heard what she is to you so maybe you need this more than I do.

-Vi"

The note begins to blur then Sevika realizes she is crying. Her tears continue to obscure her vision and wet the letter, smudging the words. She tries to wipe them away with her wrist but new tears replace them immediately.

She can't do this right now, can't have these emotions. She can't breathe. Each word on the paper, each feeling she shoved below her chest came back without permission to choke her. They wrapped their fingers around her throat and wouldn't let go, no matter how much she scratched at then. She needs to fight this off, needs to survive the threat trying to kill her.

Sevika throws her body around, throws anything she can grab. There's no point in it, just run and push and shove until the grief releases its chokehold. But it's not letting go. She can't hear the bookshelf crashing onto the floor, just sees her hand shoving item after item. This usually worked, why wasn't it working this time?

The grief weakens her and she sinks into the floor, not able to stop the tears. It's the worst pain she's felt. But as soon as she lays on the floor, grabbing Isha's hat from where she left it and holds it to her chest, the grief stops choking her. Instead it hugs her back. Isha was too sweet, too beautiful.

Sevika reminisced the moments they had together. Where Isha would fall asleep in her arms, head resting on her shoulder. When Sevika would tease Isha for practically being Jinx's shadow. How Isha mimicked Sevika, making a little cardboard arm to fit over her own and they'd playfight.

Sevika is so proud of Isha but so angry that she was so familiar with violence. Sevika tried all she could to keep her away from it. But that little girl couldnt stay away. Or maybe violence couldnt stay away from her. Maybe violence chased Isha until peace took her.

Sevika forgets time as she remembers Isha for the first time, thinking of every beautiful thing that little girl was. Isha was the color blue. Isha was little rabbit ears. Isha was a head nuzzling into her shoulder. Isha was the reason Sevika fought. Isha is the reason Sevika fights.

[ttrashlord]

BEING CHILDHOOD FRIENDS WITH STEB ✨🌌 🎀🌌✨

You surely met because your parents were Friends,or simply because you two went to the same School

Does piltover has schools?

Anyways,if you two met in School (im sorry for this one) he was bullied.

Either was for just being himself of just by the way he looks,it's more common (like we all see) to see vastayas like Scar but,a fish-type vastayas is very difficult to see,even more in Piltover.

So,you were there,watching a scene where two kids were annoying the litle Steb.

(Poor little thing)

So you,as a little kid yourself,went directly to them and ask them what the hell whats their problem? (In a kid dialect,of course)

The two kids left Steb alone to focus on you,and you decides to confront them.

You started to attack with words of them being mean to Steb with no reason,the two annoying kids started to get...well...started to cry at your words and run away.

You saw a little Steb (maybe a year older than you) and you offered him your hand,with a smiling face and a your natural blush on your cheeks.

Steb (as he is) is a kid of little to no words,but when he is with you,this doesn't happen.

He can be hours and i mean HOURS chatting with you,about anything.

If you're in the same class,he will inmediatly change his seat next to you so you can study,eat and do everything together.

If you're in different class,he just keep looking at the clock,can't wait to see you in break time!

(Do you know the dynamic of she fell first,but he fell harder??)

Well,something like that happen to him.

You,of course,develop true feelings for him quickly,let's say in 3rd grade (8 years) and you couldn't help but look at him,be close to him,make pijama parties to sleep with him you're kids OK?? EVERYTHING next to him,and when you started to grow older,this didn't change.

And the way he looked at you (before) was something like...admiration,respect he didn't wanted to be with you,he wanted to be LIKE you.

But...as he grow older,the more he realized that he coudn't find someone more perfect than you.

When you two are teenagers you two are just the akward friends who likes each other but are too shy or too coward to show their feelings for each other.

Steb,Will always stay still,but close to you,meanwhile you,always start physical touch,either is touching his knee with yours,resting your head on his shoulder,you know...those things that Friends totally do.

Slowly,It the ball of graduation was coming,and as expected,you rented a beautiful Aqua blue dress/suit (you said you wanted to combine with him) while he was in a White suit (god he looks so handosme)

You two danced along all night,drank,and more dancing!

You were enjoying your time with him,you surely was!

One moment,you stopped him and said you wanted to get a glass,but he didn't let you,he grabbed you by your hand

You:Why wouldnt you let me? It's just a glass...

You asked not annoyed,but concerned.

Steb:Because...if you don't remember this night,this won't do the worth...

And then,he slowly pull you by the hand,you staying in front of him.

You now were surely concerned for real.

To remember what?

Then,the slow song started to play,It was not fast but either that slow,It was a rythm in which couple can slowly dance,take their partners and kiss at the middle of the song while resting the head on their chest.

You:Steb what....what are you doing? this is for couples...

Steb:I know...

Steb slowly put your hands on his shoulders and with his glowing,mesmerizing blue eyes looked at you,asking for permission to put his hand on your waist.

The beat slowly began to travell through your body,and you listen to the lyrics carefully...

I would never fall again until i found her

...

I was lost within the darkness until i found you

I found you

You:Steb...what is this...

Of course...you were not refereing to the song

What is this feeling? You thought

Steb:I...you...you are the most splendid,amaizing, and steongest person i have ever met.

A pause was made

But if it wasn't for that day,the day you saved me...literally and metaphorically...i'm not able to think a day in my Life without you on It.

And thinking of making our lifes apart after School,destroys me.

And i'm not asking you to say yes because i don't have that much to offer,but i promise you,i won't dissapoint you,i won't leave you,i won't betray you,ever.

So,please (y/n)....could you be my Life from now on?

Your eyes began to slowly glaze over,and your mouth was slighlty open,to let in a little bit of oxygen,to let you live this moment,to let you process this was happening.

Steb carefully looked,at your eyes,he didn't know what to expect,honestly.

The song is over,theres no respond yet,he slowly takes his hand off your waist,in dissapointment.

But you don't,you wanted to live this moment over,and over and over again.

You:Steb...I...I..

You take a pause,your hands still on his shoulders,you looked at his shoes.

A few tears began to fall on his shoes.

You looked up,looking at him with the biggest,most charming smile you have ever had

You: you have no idea how much i've been eating for you.

A/N-PLEASE english is not my first lenguage and my keyboard is in spanish soo,yup,that's It,if theres any error,please forgive me ;)

Hope you like It as much as i liked to write this!

[blvefilm]

Let My Song Teach You

Word Count 4805

Warnings Canon-typical violence, profanity

Pairing Agatha x Rio x Fem!oc

Summary The trial continues and Umbra finds herself struggling to maintain balance.

Notes this is part 3! I took some time to plot ahead since I was just feeling this out initially- I hope you enjoy!

Part 1 / Her Shadow Here

Part 2 / If I Can't Reach You Here

The incessant wailing of pained witches is a familiar sound, but it grates on the senses all the same- my shadows writhe at the shrill cacophony.

Agatha, having immediately rushed toward Teen when it began, seizes the record player. She hoists it high above her head with a snarl before slamming it against the wooden planks. The shattered pieces scatter across the floor, but she doesn’t stop there. Even once the noise quiets, she stomps it with a relentless fury. 

I’ve always thought Agatha looks magnificent when she’s angry.

Rio and I stand side by side just behind Lilia, watching the chaotic sequence of events with measured calm. For a few beats the only sound in the room is Agatha’s ragged breathing.

“We’ve been cursed.” Lilia states gravely, her eyes looking comically wide with her Liza Minnelli lashes.

A metronome sat atop the dark oak piano begins to tick ominously. 

“I think this means the trial started.” Rio chuckles, gesturing to the timer with her blade. I can’t help but grin- her amusement is infectious. Quite literally, in my case. 

“Why are you smiling?” Questions Jen, incredulous.

“They’re tourists.” Dismisses Agatha, shimmering gold pants catching the light. 

“They’re psychos.” Jen corrects, shooting her a sharp look. 

Rio nods, grin spreading too wide, the red lighting casting eerie shadows on her face. Jen instinctively steps back, heeled boots clicking against the floor.

The coven exchanges uneasy glances as they wait for something, anything, to strike.

“...And nothing is happening.” Teen murmurs, voice tinged with tentative hope. “Maybe this curse isn’t so bad.”

Agatha shakes her head at him with a weary sigh. 

My attention is drawn to Alice who rolls her shoulders, staring down at herself in confusion. “Does anybody feel...” She allows the word to trail and I can feel the entire room lean forward.

“What?” Urges Lilia, dread thick in her voice.

“I feel…lighter?” She says, tone lilting at the end in question and a shade of relief. 

I raise a brow in muted shock when Lilia’s honey colored fur coat begins to smoke. A second later she falls to the ground screaming in pain, an odd tangle of limbs against the invisible fire that could be heard sizzling over her skin. 

I despise the smell of burning witch.

“What is it, Lilia? What’s wrong?” Questions Teen as he runs to her alongside Alice. 

Rio and I share a glance, my head tilting toward the flailing witch in question when she shakes her head ‘no’ in denial at my request to offer help. I purse my lips in agitation at the senseless theatrics of this whole facade.

She was always the one who enjoyed games.

“What's doing that to her?” Jennifer yells, looking quite frazzled in her flower crown. 

“How do we stop it?” Teen turns to Agatha with his question and she can only stare, dumbstruck. 

“Alice, protect her!” Kale demands, voice dropping in desperation.

At the sound of her name, Alice jerks away from Lilia’s crumpled form, turning to Rio with a huffed, ”Can I borrow this?” 

Rio willingly releases the dagger, and Alice swiftly raises it high above her head, slashing in a downward arc until it thunks into the wooden planks. She makes quick work of  carving a circle around the whimpering woman while chanting harshly in Latin.

Lilia’s frame jolts as the curse is expelled from her, and she takes a moment to collect herself before weakly rising with Alice’s help. 

“I need you to draw one of those circles around me, right now.” Jen inserts from beside Agatha. 

Everyone ignores the comment as Rio glides toward the crescent shaped couch, flopping down and meeting my gaze from beneath her lashes as she leisurely crosses her legs. 

“So, uh…Breaking a curse. Smudge sticks? A salt bath?” Teen stutters out, beginning to pace. “What if we locate and reason with the witch who cast the curse?”

I’m tempted to roll my eyes at that, and Rio’s mirth cycles back to me.

“Once vengeance is loosed, you can’t real it back in.” Mutters Agatha, gloved hands curling in agitation. 

“So, what do we do?” 

“The only way to end the curse is to face it.” Lilia supplies shakily.

The ominous words barely leave her lips when Jen crumples to the ground in a blur of pink, her screams slicing through the air a pitch sharper than Lilia’s. Agatha cringes away from her as if it will jump to her next- which, it might, I suppose. 

Alice is at Jen’s side in an instant, frantically carving the protection circle while the potions witch begs for her to hurry.

“Her shoulders.” Teen breathes, horrified, as the circle seals with a faint shimmer. 

The cut-out neckline of Jen’s flowing dress reveals her once flawless shoulders, now marred by jagged strips of charred flesh. I let out a low whistle at the damage, and Teen shoots me a disapproving look. 

“Do I have one too?” Lilia whispers, tugging at her neckline to expose the same grisly sight etched into her skin.

I feel the electric charge in the air before the deep vibrations of a rumbling growl quakes the floor. 

The witches gasp as a sudden torrent of magic spirals through the room, whipping everyone's hair and frilly clothing violently. A demonic screech circles like a predator seeking its prey, the sound drilling into our eardrums. 

“What is that?” Someone asks, voice barely audible.

“That’s the curse.” Rio offers, unbothered, her face obscured by a magazine.

Agatha takes a step back, unwittingly colliding into me. The warmth of her frame lurches away just as quickly when my hands automatically find her hips to steady her. Her sharp blue eyes snap to mine, brimming with accusation. 

I meet her glare with a slow smile, unable to resist.

“The backwards record!” Exclaims Teen.

Alice shuffles the broken pieces of the record together, exhaling heavily when they reveal the one song that she can never escape. 

Agatha, feeling the pressure of the situation and likely wanting to get further away from me, rushes to Alice’s crouched figure and pulls her up by the shoulders- Giving her a shake.

“It’s you isn’t it? You brought it in here!” Her voice is sharp with accusation. 

“Leave her alone, Agatha!” Shouts Teen, pulling her back by the arm with surprising strength.

“I didn’t think it was real!” Alice explodes, tears pooling in her eyes as she throws her hands out in a plea for understanding. 

“I thought it was me! That it's my fault that I can’t keep a job…that everything I touch turns to shit!” A small sob escapes her, thick with shame. “That I couldn’t save her…”

With trembling hands, she tugs her shirt to the side to show us scars that mimic Jen and Lilia’s burn- Hers deep and mottled like they never healed quite right. “I convinced myself they were birthmarks...Even though she had the same ones.”

I note Agatha keeps a hand against Teen’s stomach, guarding him from the current conflict. 

“Wait, are we talking about a generational curse?” Jen questions with a hand out, trying to grasp the situation. 

“Oh you poor thing.” Lilia sighs with empathy, I mentally echo her thoughts.

“Poor us!” Jen corrects. “Now we have her family’s old ass curse!” Rio snorts at that, flipping a page.

“I’m sorry.” Alice whispers brokenly.

Before anyone can respond, Teen yelps when an invisible force slams into him. 

Agatha surges forward, but it doesn’t matter- before she can reach him, Teen is flung like a ragdoll through the glass window of the recording studio. 

The crash can be heard through the room, shards of glass tinkling to the floor. My grip on Agatha loosens- A move I didn’t register making, and she bolts to his side, Alice close on her heels. Groans of pain mingle with the crunch of glass as they swarm him. 

I glide toward the shattered window, staring idly as Alice crouches beside him, brushing off shards and muttering words of comfort. Another victim of the curse helped by the ever-dutiful protection witch. 

“Hey,” Teen croaks, voice weak but laced with humor. “I got attacked by the curse…Does that mean I’m part of the coven? Blessings and burdens alike?” 

His pitiful attempt at levity pulls a faint smirk from me. 

“Not a lot of blessings with this group.” Lilia quips, stepping through the door with a dry smile.

I nod, lips twitching in agreement when a voice cuts through the moment. 

“Is he okay?” 

We all spin to face Jen who has refused to leave her warding circle.

Agatha drifts past me and back into the main room, scoffing with a toss of her hands. “So what? You live in that circle now?”

“Maybe.”

Rio stands, stalking toward her with a predatory gait, as Alice and Teen shuffle their way back toward us. 

“So what’s the plan, Agatha?” Rio questions, leaning toward the witch, voice laced with impatience. 

She pointedly avoids her gaze, turning instead to Alice who in turn stares at the piano like it might snap at her. 

“You’re right. That’s the solution.” She snaps abruptly, jabbing a finger toward the instruments. 

“No, it's not.” Alice bristles at the suggestion. 

“We have to play Lorna’s Ballad.” Agatha says with renewed confidence. 

“I’m not playing that song!” Alice shoots back, crossing her arms defensively. 

“All signs point to a jam session.” Agatha mutters, exasperation apparent as she pops a hip and spreads her hands before her.

“What good will it do? The Ballad opens The Road. We did that. We’re here.” She continues to deny the glaring truth. 

“Lorna’s version is different, though.” Teen steps in.

“What did Lorna want from The Road?” Agatha questions no one in particular. “What was her intention?”

Rio speaks up from where she is perched lazily at the drum set, “To save her daughter.”

“You should have burnt to a crisp years ago but here you are. Sullen and aimless, but alive. That’s because at any given moment somewhere, someone is playing that song that you hate so much…Lorna’s Ballad is a protection spell…It protects you.” Agatha’s words hang heavily in the air.

I can see the realization wash over Alice- fear, disbelief, guilt. They all flash in rapid succession that I imagine is dizzying for the poor witch. 

“And maybe now it can protect us.” Lilia finishes as she comes to the same conclusion. 

The hair-raising screech echoing through the room cuts off conversation with a brutal reminder. Time is running out. 

“Okay,” Agatha snaps with urgency, “Who’s good with piano? Lilia?” 

“No. No, I studied the zils. And a little pan flute.”

“Okay, Jen?”

“Ballet.”

“Oh, come on guys!” Agatha hurls with irritation, chest beginning to rise and fall with labored breaths that only draw my gaze to the deep cut of her top. 

“I play guitar. Sort of.” Teen offers timidly. 

“Okay, great.” The witch brushes a strand of hair from her face, taking a deep inhale to steady herself. “Jen, you’re on bass.”

“I’m still in the circle…”

“Jen!”

“Well, what do you know? Zils.” Lilia murmurs as she picks up the tiny instruments with a bemused grin. 

Ignoring her, Agatha spins to take the mic. The static feedback squeals through the room causing everyone to flinch. I step up to the available mic beside her. Her eyes narrow my way, speculative, before turning to Alice with a sly smile.

“Ooh! Alice, play it right and play it well. Maybe we won’t die.” She drawls, equal parts encouragement and challenge. 

The opening notes ripple through the room as Alice begins to play the piano, for a fleeting moment it feels like hope. Then the familiar sound of sizzling snaps everyone’s focus back. 

To my horror, the curse attacks Agatha this time. Smoke rises from her clothes and she hunches over with a gasp of pain. 

Instinctively, my shadows surge forward, curling possessively around her and wrenching the curse off before it can do anymore damage. Rio’s satisfaction and a thread of warning trickles through my chest at my interference. Agatha stumbles, catching her breath as the black tendrils retreat. 

“You could do that the whole time?” Teen gasps, voice a mixture of disbelief and outrage.  

I glance at him briefly, but don’t dignify his question with a response. My focus stays on Agatha as I scan her up and down for serious injury, avoiding the confusion in her expression. 

Satisfied she is unharmed, I clear my throat before speaking, tone leaving no room for argument. “Keep playing.” 

The coven is still for a heartbeat, everyone processing what just occurred with varying expressions of bewilderment and chagrin. Alice places her trembling fingers back on the keys and the melody resumes, each note only winding tension tighter.

I have learned the lesson

Of all that’s foul and fair

Our love was forged in Fire

Water, Earth, and Air

The spell is cast

How long it lasts

I cannot divine

The Road is there

And so I dare

To risk this heart of mine

Down, down, down The Road

Down the Witches’ Road

My gaze locks onto Agatha’s profile as she sings, her voice raw and commanding. The way the light catches her jaw, the intensity in her gaze- it’s magnetic. 

Heat rises in my chest, spreading to my limbs with a slow burn and melding with Rio’s own. Beneath that, a whisper of caution. My balance is meant to steady Rio’s chaos, not mirror her yearning- Yet, I feel it. 

It’s maddening, this push and pull. The same longing she feels tethered to the woman who has undone us both in different ways. 

The little witch is distracting enough that I almost miss my cue to join in. 

Down, down, down The Road

Down the Witches’ Road

Down, down, down The Road

Down the Witches’ Road

Follow me, my friend

To glory at the end

Flames burst to life around the room, licking at the walls like serpents tasting the air. They grow hungrily, casting shadows that twist and dance. 

“Oh, great! Fire!” Lilia exclaims.

“It’s angry.” Rio warns, continuing her sing-song tone, silhouette haloed by the fiery glow. 

“Stop phoning it in! Play like a witch!” Agatha commands, voice escaping her in a growl. 

I have known the power

Of midnights in the wood

I’ve danced inside the circle

Of all that’s bad and good

The danger’s great

The trials wait

Tame your fears

A door appears

To love that never dies

As we go 

Down, down, down The Road

Down the Witches’ Road

Down, down, down The Road

Down the Witches’ Road

Down, down, down The Road

Down the Witches’ Road

Blood and tears and bone

Together and alone

The room pulses with life while scattered embers glow like stars against the night sky. Our voices rise and fall, melding together in a seamless dance as we weave magic with our song. 

Alice’s voice breaks through, raw and thick with emotion. Tears trace silver paths down her flushed cheeks, and the magic around us coils tighter with each note.

If I can’t reach you

Let my song teach you

All you need to keep our love alive

If I can’t hold you

Remember what I told you

It’s the only way we survive

We survive

As we go

The curse itself manifests in a grotesque demonic form, perched above us. Its body is a patchwork of flesh and blood that glistens against the dim light. It seems to parody the shape of a woman, with long stringy hair and a mouthful of unnervingly flat teeth. 

The mockery is undone by the wings of thin tissue stretched taut over jagged bone that jut out at unnatural angles. The smell of iron and rot saturate the place. 

Down, down, down The Road

Down the Witches’ Road

“The curse. I see it. I can see it” Alice chokes before her voice takes on a raging determination. “...I can kill it.” 

Down, down, down The Road

Down the Witches’ Road

Down, down, down The Road

Down the Witches’ Road

Wherever it may bend

I’ll see you at the end

The curse moves with unsettling precision, settling itself upon the witch’s shoulders as if it belongs there. It talons curl into her skin, aligning with her brutal scars- they intertwine in a tapestry of her past and present torment.

I’ll see you at the end

I’ll see you at the end

I’ll see you at the end

I’ll see you at the end

A cloud of fire erupts above Alice as her final note pierces the air, arms flung wide. The curse- a surging flame in a violent bloom, twists inward, then collapses into a swirling void. 

As if it never existed.

“It’s gone.” Agatha breathes, hand clenching the mic in a white-knuckled grip as her eyes scan the room warily.  

The faint creak of wood draws their attention to the piano, currently groaning open to reveal a narrow, dark passage within. 

“The exit!” Alice gasps, relief breaking through her exhaustion. 

“We did it. Yay!” Teen mumbles, tone unsteady as he sways on his feet. A second later, his knees buckle, and he crumples to the ground.  

“Teen!” Agatha cries, panic cutting through her usually steely demeanor. “What happened?”

“What’s wrong with him?” Lilia’s voice rises in alarm, gaze darting to his torso where blood spreads across his side. 

“He’s bleeding!” 

“We’ve got to get him out of here.” Urges Alice where she clutches his arm. 

The group scrambles to lift him, their movements frantic and uncoordinated. Shuttling an unconscious body through the narrow opening of a piano proves to be more complicated than any of them expected. 

Rio, who stands at my side and watches the scene unfold, subdues the desire to laugh when they bang his head against the wood for a second time- Only because Agatha’s eyes have welled with tears of fright for the boy. 

“Watch his head!” Lilia yells, voice strained.

Finally, they manage to pull him through, laying him on an elevated slab of stone just outside the passage. His pale face is slack, and blood continues to seep between their fingers as they try to staunch the wound. 

“Okay, hold on. Hold on.” Jen says, voice trembling with the weight of the situation. 

“There’s so much blood.” Agatha whispers, voice cracking with emotion that she hasn’t displayed in a long time. 

“I got it.” Jen reassures, although her demeanor screams unsteady.

“What else can we do? What else can we do?” Agatha croaks, bloodied fingers cupping his face.

“He’s young. He’s strong..” Lilia begins. 

“Dont!” Agatha snarls, turning to look at Rio and I, voice falling to a weak plea, “Don’t.”

It feels like a bolder in my gut when her loaded gaze lands on us, and I’m sent back to those hazy memories of her begging Rio…Of my birth. 

“Jen!” Agatha barks out, attempting to jolt Jennifer into action. 

“Water and moonlight.” She finally stammers. 

Alice scrambles to the thin stream a few feet away, falling to her knees to collect water, and being mindful not to slosh it as she hands it off to the potions witch.

Jen cups it in both hands, turning to the thin stream of moonlight breaking through the tangled branches and begins to chant in Latin. 

“Three of Swords.” Lilia mumbles airily. 

She delicately pours the water against the wound, his body flinches away with a small hiss of pain. 

“You’re making it worse!” Agatha accuses fearfully. 

“Wait, wait.” 

There is a visible sigh of relief when the blood begins to wash away to reveal healed skin. Jen gasps in shock at her own work, using his jacket to wipe away the remaining blood. 

“Jennifer…” Lilia breathes. “Look what you did.”

Agatha’s tear stained cheeks reflect the light when she glances our way once more before they clamor together to move him somewhere more comfortable. With far less huffs and grunts than when they shimmied him through the piano, they find him a patch of soft foliage to rest him on. 

Agatha sits by his side, gaze not leaving his face. The other coven members stand in the tense silence briefly before stuttering that they are going to start a fire and promptly wander in the opposite direction.

I eye Rio in my peripheral, twirling the damned flower in her hands as she stares despondently at the witch. I urge her to walk away through our connection, ignoring the fact that I haven’t either, but not one to be told no she parts her lips to speak anyway. 

“Agatha-”

“Don’t. Not right now.” She lashes out abruptly.

Rio sighs and the hand holding the flower falls to her side limply, before she spins to follow the coven dejectedly. I stretch a bit of shadow to caress the witch’s back softly, she shudders at the contact, but doesn’t look my way. I don’t expect her to.

 I take a seat on the log beside Rio once I make my way over to the flickering flames casting elongated shadows of the coven’s figures. She plays with her knife idly as the witches chat, sparing me a fleeting glance at my arrival. 

“I never really identified as just a witch…I’m an eleventh-generation root worker and midwife.” Jen murmurs, face reflecting the orange glow. 

“A midwife…” Lilia gasps with genuine appreciation. 

“How were you bound?” Alice asks softly.

“I was invited to the brand-new Obstetrics Association of Greater Boston. To share my expertise…It was a trap. I still don’t know how he did it. Bound me without magic.” She sighs deeply to clear the haunting memories from her mind. “So much for ‘do no harm’.”

“When mom died,” Alice starts quietly. “I stopped believing everything she ever taught me. I was so angry. Part of me hoped that The Road wasn’t real, so I could stay angry. Because…” She exhales shakily, unable to finish her thought. 

“Now you know it was all for you. And that makes you sad.” Lilia hums. 

“You’re right.” Alice concedes tearfully after pausing to wipe her face.

“Sad is better than angry.” The divination witch sends her an empathetic smile. 

“Here. Put this on your pressure points.” 

Jen shifts to hand her a small tin effectively shifting the somber weight that had settled over the group. 

“Why?”

“Because it smells nice.” She responds simply.

“Thanks, Jen.” Alice says, tone a shade lighter than usual at the gesture. 

“You know the worst part of being a witch?” Lilia states, queuing up another rant. “All the misconceptions and rumor mongering. That we talk to goats. That we’ve all got an extra nipple.”

“You guys don’t have extra nipples? I’m covered in nipples.” Rio states and I can’t help but join in on the antics when Lilia’s lip curls in disgust. 

“There’s one shaped like a star on her back.” 

“You wanna see?” Rio asks, moving to lift her shirt with a grin. 

“No, thank you.” Lilia says, appalled, as the women break out into snickers. 

I can see it then, the tentative camaraderie between the witches. They could make a powerful coven if everything about this wasn’t so convoluted. 

“Check this out.” Says Lilia once their laughter dies down, pulling her collar low to expose the skin of her throat. 

“What is that?” Jennifer asks, leaning in to get a closer look. 

“Vampire bite. Right before I knocked out his other tooth.”

“Oh!” The witches both exclaim with impressed tones, and intrigue slithers through my chest. The emotions are not my own, but Rio’s. 

“You know, we really kind of hated each other in the beginning. But now…” Lilia dangles the words in the air.

“But now?” the potions witch prods. 

Lilia blinks away the fog veiling her eyes. “Huh?”

“Lilia, where do you go?” Jen asks with a disbelieving laugh that sends Alice into another fit at her side. 

They quiet down as Agatha shuffles her way toward us stiffly, a blanket of uncertainty rippling through the coven. Rio, who’s moved to the ground, now sits between my legs where I remain perched on the log behind her. Agatha gives us a heavy look before easing down beside us. 

“How is he?” Alice’s voice has lost all amusement. 

“Mouthy.” 

“That’s a good sign.” Lilia breathes.

“Agatha, why don’t you show us your battle scars?” Jen encourages after we fall into a loaded silence against the whispers of crackling flames.

Agatha’s brows twitch upward with surprise before she unrolls her sleeve to reveal her arm. She shares a look with Rio and they both chuckle- I vaguely remember it myself from my time as a flicker in the back of her mind. 

“Knitting needle to the elbow.” She remarks in a haughty voice. “You ever hear of the Daughters of Liberty?” 

“No.”

“Nuh uh.”

“Exactly.” She affirms with a smirk, her own laugh hesitant amongst the others.

“I’ve got a scar.” Rio finally blurts- I’d felt her teetering on the edge of saying it or remaining silent since Agatha first spoke. My shadows twirl around her legs, as if to shield her. 

“No, you don’t.” 

“Yes, I do. A long time ago, I loved someone. And I had to do something that I did not wanna do, even though it was my job.” Rio angles her face toward Agatha just slightly and the witch whips the other way as if she might burn her. 

“And it hurt them.” She continues softer. “She is my scar.”

Agatha continues to avoid her gaze, hand tucked to her chin in an attempt at a mask of nonchalance. I resist the gnawing temptation to speak up in Rio’s defense- To tell Agatha that she is the reason her very being was torn in two. 

“I’m gonna stretch my legs.” She finally spits after a weighted pause that no one seems willing to break, standing with a deep sigh and walking briskly down the trail. 

I’m already standing when Rio gets up, together we turn to follow her when Lilia reaches out to halt our progress. “Don’t think for a second I’ve forgotten what you said in the sound booth.”

A scoff escapes Rio as she jerks her hand back with a snarl, I can see the slight edge of rejection in her eyes most couldn't. Very few regarded Death warmly, after all.

I wrap an arm around her waist with a forceful tug, fingers tickling along the exposed skin of her side while she allows me to pull her down the road and away from the campfire bonding session. 

Agatha stands rigidly, arms crossed, and her back to us as we approach. I halt as Rio eases forward to tangle her fingers in Agatha’s long hair, the witch’s visible shiver and small moan in response to her touch draws me closer until I’m barely a step away. 

She rotates to meet Rio’s soft gaze, visibly melting into her as she caresses her head fondly and clutches her in an embrace. Agatha’s eyes meet mine over her shoulder, face inches from my own. Her irises cloud with a storm of emotion, fondness with a barbed edge.

I hesitate, still unsure where I stand, before gently pressing my forehead to hers in a small show of acceptance. Of affection. My shadows, with a mind of their own, coil around us in a cool hug. 

Agatha’s eyes flutter closed with a shuttering exhale, savoring the small bubble of safety in the battleground we have created.

Rio’s relief and raw yearning hits me like a wave, my knees feel weak in its presence. With me torn from her, all the softer parts of herself are closer to the surface- More vulnerable. 

Agatha pulls back from our hold, just far enough that her lips are a breath away from Rio’s as her eyes pool with heat. 

The dark force that formed me jabs into my mind like a hot poker, causing me to flinch against Rio’s back with the force of it.

You are here to guide. To protect. To collect.

The reminder yanks all the warmth from the bond, leaving it a chilled husk of a thing between us. I retreat backward, one step, then two- Inhaling and exhaling deeply through my nose. 

“Agatha…” Rio hesitates to say the words we know to be true, and I almost wish she didn’t when I see the mental walls slamming back down in Agatha's eyes. “That boy isn’t yours.”

The little witch’s shoulders curl inward, the tender parts of her burrowing back into their hiding spots. She nods jerkily as she works to paint her usual sarcastic smile. It doesn’t hold the desired effect- her lips tremble with the effort and it’s hollow of any emotion.

She shoulders past us with a weak scoff, gait weary, but chin held high.

[axstoria]

Clark Kent taking his boyfriend out ice skating at a local winter fair in Smallville, not expecting the billionaire to know how to stand on his own two feet on the ice.

Now, of course, he forgot that said boyfriend is Bruce Wayne, of all people. The Batman.

The Batman who can do literally anything just by watching something once.

So, while Clark is still lacing up his skates, chattering along, Bruce's gaze is focused on couples and families as they glide along the ice, taking in each moment and stride, filing it away in his mind.

He already knows how to skate—having fought Mr. Freeze so often that he actually added retractable blades to his suit—, so he shouldn't be this observant of the other people.

Clark stands up, a boyish grin on his face as he takes Bruce's hand and drags him out onto the ice, carefully steadying his poor human mate to make sure he doesn't fall.

Bruce just waves off his worry and skates away like a damn figure skater, finding an empty space and happily twirling.

Showoff.

Clark catches up with a frown, grumbling something along the lines of, "You didn't tell me you knew how to skate!"

"A man never tells all his tricks," Bruce teases back, looping his arm with Clark's, and they begin to make lazy laps around the rink like everyone else.

An hour and a half later, both are nursing warm hot chocolate to their chests, taking small sips. The beat doesn't bother Clark's tongue, but he drinks only when Bruce does, not wanting to seem glutton.

They toss the cups in the recycling after they are done, opting to wander around the several stalls set up along the streets.

When Clark shows interest in something, Bruce is already handing over cash, not even bothering to check the price tag. Anything for his love.

Clark objects stubbornly, but eventually snatches up the bags, upset that Bruce was carrying things in his presence.

They find a bench to sit on that is further away from the crowd, Clark tucked against Bruce's side, a light purr coming from his throat as the billionaire scratches his hair mindlessly.

"Now since I went to the fair with you..."

"I'm not going to a gala." Clark's voice is low and there is a hint of hesitation to it. "I report, that's all."

"Alright, alright. I guess I can't force you. Though, once we're married, it's going to happen."

Clark mutters some kind of brush-off statement, wrapping a thick arm around his boyfriend, bumping their skulls together as he happily purrs.

"I'm gonna get you rocks."

"Rocks?"

"Mhm. From whatever planet you want. I'll make you diamonds if you want them."

"That's nice, Clark. What for?"

"Our wedding. Humans give each other rocks, right?"

"Mhm."

"Kryptonians do, too."

"That's nice."

"I'm gonna get you a sapphire. Like your eyes."

"Okay, Clark."

"I love you."

Bruce pauses, a little sigh escaping him—he really did have to pick a hyperactive one, didn't he?— before he replies softly, "I love you, too."

[thependancer]

An essay on why The Voice of The Cold and The Broken can handle Fury breaking them apart.

**Spoilers for Pristine Cut!!**

The Voice of The Cold and The Broken are one of the few voices able to survive being torn apart by the Fury. Of the Voices that make it to the Fury, The Contrarion leaves first due to boredom. The Hero is next to go as the pain becomes unbearable. The Stubborn perseveres through still however even he can't handle much more.

However, The Cold and The Broken are able to outlast the torture. They manage to even tire out the Fury. So the question is simple, how come these two voices survive? Even when you're just atoms, they are still there, but how?

Lets start with The Cold. The Cold is, in his own words, "unfeeling". He isn't completely detached from feeling, he is just able to disregard it no matter how big or small it may be. This ability is also seen in The Moment of Clarity where despite enduring endless torture, he still acts as himself while the other voices are thoroughly broken.

The Cold is able to endure the pain of the Fury reducing you to atoms as he can simply disregard it. He is completely detached from his body. Hence, he can confidently answer yes to the Fury's question "Are you still here? Are you still you?" Being detached from the body means that he is still here and he is still him. He never thought of himself as the body so why should his identity be threatened by affecting the body? This allows him to withstand the pain. And this detachment is also visible with his attitude after the torture. He is still as "unfeeling" as ever. He does not learn anything from this. He sees the Fury has given up and instead of comforting her, he justs exclaims that the Fury is just like him. That they both just want to feel something. She wanted to see if she would anything if she tortured you and The Cold wanted to endure the torture to feel something. Only when the role is reversed, that you inflict pain on her that when they both can actually feel something, whatever that something is. I believe it is regret. The Cold regrets his inability to feel but quickly disregards it as he does with every emotion, while the princess regrets her torture and we do not get to see what happens to her after she experiences this something. However, that is just my interpretation.

Now moving on to The Broken. The Broken can come to the Fury from the Tower or the Adversary. I will be discussing the Adversary one specifically. In this scenario, you realized the hopelessness of the situation before The Stubborn. You broke. For The Broken, everything is utterly hopeless. So when you reach the Fury, The Broken is able to see that even she thinks whatever she is doing is utterly hopless. He finds connection. He craves that connection. The Fury will tear him apart? It matters as much as the world at this point in that it doesn't matter at all. She is broken and The Broken realizes she wants us to feel what she feels. So he lets himself be torn apart. He is the complete opposite of The Cold. The Cold disregarded the pain and so was able to survive but gained nothing from the experience ultimately. The Broken accepted the pain. He learnt how the Fury felt. He saw the fear in The Hero's voice and comforted him. He reassured The Stubborn that winning and losing didn't matter. He spread his understanding to even the narrator, who had to witness and describe the grueling torture, which is another way of experiencing it.

The Broken, the one who needed comfort the most in any other route, here we see that he is able to handle pressure extremely well. Here, he is still broken, but he is still here. He can see the Fury rages because we hurt her. He can see that the other voices are afraid and hurt and he can comfort them. He feels everything and extends that feeling to everyone who needs it. And most importantly when you reach the mirror, he comforts you. "It's going to be okay.", he says.

And so by disregarding your feelings or by accepting them, you are able to hold yourself despite literally being torn to atoms. Personally I think both of these routes are beautiful.

[libby-for-life]

Based off @lilacwriter07 psychopath Lucifer.

Adam harbored a deep-seated discomfort towards Lucifer, an unease he couldn't quite articulate. It wasn't just a matter of disliking the angel; something about his very presence felt unsettling. The breadth of Lucifer's smiles seemed almost exaggerated, stretching wider than what felt natural for someone who claimed friendship. His words dripped with a charm that, while captivating, sent shivers down Adam's spine, filling him with an inexplicable sense of foreboding.

Each time Lucifer drew near, Adam could feel the weight of something menacing lurking beneath that friendly facade. The way Lucifer embraced him felt too tight, too lingering, as if the angel were trying to ensnare him in some unseen trap. There was a persistent, nagging feeling that danger loomed just beneath the surface when Lucifer was around, like shadows dancing at the edges of his vision.

In stark contrast, Lilith seemed utterly captivated by the angel, her laughter ringing out like sweet chimes whenever he was near. She found joy in his playful banter, basking in the warmth of his attention, while Lucifer frequently indulged her whims with an affable charm. Yet, despite her enchantment, Adam could feel the tension in the air as Lucifer's cold blue eyes were always drawn back to him. There was a chilling intensity in those gazes, an unyielding focus that tracked Adam's every move, leaving him unsettled and wary, as though he were a moth caught in the thrall of a flame he couldn't escape.

Adam exhaled, a mix of frustration and concern bubbling to the surface as he observed Lilith's infatuation with the angel Lucifer. "Lilith, please, you have to listen to me," he urged, stepping closer, his voice laden with desperation. "Lucifer doesn't mean anything good, I promise you that. You can't trust him."

But the First Woman merely brushed his words aside with an indifferent flick of her wrist. A fierce glint sparkled in her eyes as she shot him a defiant glare. "You're just jealous, Adam. You know I like him better than you," she retorted, her voice sharp and unwavering.

"I won’t let you take him away from me," she added, her resolve firm despite Adam's growing anxiety.

Adam felt a surge of helplessness wash over him. This was not jealousy consuming him; it was a deep-rooted instinct to protect the one who had once shared her dreams and laughter with him. He could see the allure of Lucifer—the celestial being exuded charm and danger in equal measures. But Adam knew how deceptive appearances could be with that angel. Each time Lilith turned her back on him and walked towards the angel, it felt as though he was losing pieces of the woman she had been during the dawn of creation.

As she moved away, Adam's heart sank further, fragmented by the sight of Lucifer’s chilling smile. The angel's expression was one of triumph, as he took Lilith’s hand, leading her into shadows that felt darker than night. Adam stood rooted to the spot, a silent witness to the rift forming between them, and the looming threat that seemed to grow with every step Lilith took towards the unknown.

There were countless moments when Adam had awoken to find the angel perched at the edge of a tree he was sleeping under, a haunting presence in the shadows of dawn. Each time, he would open his eyes, feeling the crispness of the morning air enveloping him, only to be met by the piercing gaze of glacier-blue eyes fixed intently on his face. In that ethereal light, the angel’s features took on a surreal quality, every angle sharper and more defined, casting an almost otherworldly glow around him.

The angel’s lips would curl into a chilling smile that sent shivers down Adam’s spine, and he would hear the soft, melodic voice—like distant chimes—drift through the silence. "Good morning, Adam. I'm glad you woke up. I'm always scared one day you won't." The words hung in the air, heavy with an unshakeable sense of foreboding that twisted in Adam's gut. What could that possibly mean?

Panic would grip him at the thought, and instinctively, he would leap from the ground, his heart racing as he fled from the unsettling sight. Yet, as he dashed away, he could feel Lucifer’s eyes tracking his retreat, a mixture of amusement and something darker lurking within that smile, which only deepened the eerie atmosphere. It was a sensation that wrapped itself around him—both unsettling and compelling. The angel's presence, while breathtakingly beautiful, carried with it a disquieting edge that Adam could never quite shake off.

And then the day came when Adam came across the unsettling sight of Lilith's mangled corpse. He didn't understand what he was seeing though. He had never experienced death or anything like it. So he could only stare at Lilith's pale purple eyes and tilt his head. "Lilith? Why aren't you getting up? And what's all that red stuff?" She didn't answer.

"Adam!" Adam froze when he felt strong arms envelop him in a hug. He whimpered a bit and turned slightly to see Lucifer who was covered in the same red stuff as Lilith. "Lucifer? What's wrong with Lilith? Is she sleeping?"

"Hm? Oh, I took care of her. She was saying awful nasty stuff about how she was sorry how she was treating you and how she wanted to make it up to you. I couldn't let that happen. Worked far too hard to keep her away from you." Lucifer rubbed his cheek against Adam’s stomach and grinned at him. Adam didn't understand. He wouldn't for a long time but he gasped when warm lips pecked his stomach. "Now I have you for myself."

[nekrosmos]

Tell me your silliest takes on Nikolai and Price? <3 Or any headcanons you have of either of them, really.

Silly NikPrice, I can do :3c

I think Nik is a hugger even in his sleep and sometimes Price wakes up in the middle of the night because he has to piss and can't escape those massive bear arms (and Nik would try to pull him closer even as he's sleeping) and it's a silent battle that ensues, often ending in Price giving up.

When Price is being particularly grumpy or strict for some reason, Gaz likes to act mysterious and say "I know a way to calm him down" to Soap and Ghost. He never lies, however, as all it takes is for him to send a text to Nik, and for Nik to send a picture of himself in various states of undress to Price. The face John makes when he glances at his phone, only for his ears to turn all red as he fumbles an excuse that he has to go check something in his office, is something the 141 never gets tired of.

Most of the time, Nik makes the big gestures. That man is a romantic and now that he finally has John, he's gonna make him feel like he's the most beautiful man in the world. However, sometimes Price surprises him too. The smile on Nikolai's face when John gets him with something he didn't expect is worth everything to John. The love making that follows is out of this world, too.

Nik loooooooves to find ways to sneakily touch Price when he really shouldn't be doing that. Maybe they're sitting around a table negotiating important intel with shady people from Nik's side when Price suddenly feels Nik's boots against his crotch and sees him smirks at him from across the table. Asshole. Or maybe the two are undercover in a van, eying an area at night for someone they need to crab, Price's eyes glued to his binoculars when Nik's hand suddenly sneaks past his belt and boxers and starts teasing him. Even worse, the person they were waiting to retrieve finally shows up and Price has to grab a guy while almost fully hard and unsatisfied. Thanks, Nik.

Sometimes they like to slow dance together. Just the two of them, in Price's house or his quarters, whatever. They put some quiet music and just start doing it naturally. It's gentle, it's quiet, it's just them and they can finally have a moment to breath and enjoy each other's embrace. John never feels more at peace than when in Nik's arms, and Nik is happy to oblige, big hands stroking through Price's hair and staring into his blue eyes. Sometimes one of them ends up saying a very, very bad joke, and they start laughing, almost uncontrollably, more out of exhaustion than anything, and they end up falling on a nearby couch or bed and they laugh and laugh together like nothing else in this world matters but them.

Nik watching Price struggle to order food in Russian while they're in a russian speaking country. He could help him, but it's just so damn adorable to watch him fumble through his words and see John's panicked glance turn back to him when he failed to order coffee for the third time in a row. John's revenge is to speak in slang he damn well knows Nik won't understand for the rest of the day.

Every time John is cold in bed, snuggling close to Nik, it reminds him of that time when they were way, way younger and got sent off somewhere in Eastern Europe in the middle of winter, and the two had to bunker down in a shitty hotel, in a shitty bedroom that (gasp) had only one shitty bed and whose heater was broken. It had been a little bit awkward at the time, and Nik had offered to sleep on the floor, which John had refused, offering it in return, only for Nik to also shut him down. Eventually, the two had climbed into bed, backs turned to one another, until John began to shiver uncontrollably, the thin blanket not helping with the freezing temperatures. Quietly, Nik had turned around and gently wrapped his arms around John. None of them said anything, no words were exchanged, and Price quickly stopped shivering. There were no mention of this happening the day after, or the day after, not until years later when the two began their relationship and Nik admitted it had been extremely difficult to stop himself from kissing the back of Price's neck that night, or let his hands wander. Price admitted the same, and the two had laughed it off. There had been plenty of opportunities to do just that since then.

[afyrian]

my fingers for you sugawara koshi x gn!reader (fluff) m.list | wc: 1k | synopsis: you wrap presents together

    the windows reveal just how late it's gotten, your porch lights shining through into the dining room. the light amber color illuminates the presents sitting beside you. their boxes stacked high as you stare at the assortment of wrapping paper, unable to get started. pursing your lips, you finally grab a tan wrapping paper, a white plaid overlay giving it a nostalgic look.

  grabbing one of sugawara's present, a set of handmade mugs that are covered in paintings of different office supplies, you set the box on top of the wrapping paper. measuring it out, you grab a nearby pair of scissors and start the process. you let it drag across the roll until you reach the end and the piece is successfully on its own. 

  picking off a piece of tape with your finger and thumb, you tape down both sides of the box. taking in deep breath, you take another drink of coffee, trying to keep yourself awake. "hun, you coming to bed soon?" sugawara calls from the staircase, leaning against the railing with a hand rubbing his eyes.

  "not yet, just trying to wrap these presents since we've been so busy," you look back towards him, maneuvering the box so he can't see the store's name on the box. 

  he raises his eyebrows, pursing his lips. the two of you typically hate heading to bed alone, unable to sleep without the other by their side. walking down the rest of the stairs, he sits down beside you, crossing his legs in front of him while resting his hand on your thigh. pressing his forehead on your shoulder, he closes his eyes, "who's present are we wrapping now?"

  "well, i'm wrapping your present right now," you smile, folding down the sides and bring up a triangle of the paper to tape against the side of the box. 

  lifting his head, he looks towards the box, narrowing his eyes. "really?" sugawara peers towards the present, smiling maliciously as you turn the last unwrapped side away from him.

  there's a look in his eyes that makes you want to show him the present in that moment. that he could ask you for anything in the dead of night and you'd find a way to make it work. bringing your thumb up to your mouth, you bite at your nail, trying to hide your sleep-deprived smile. "give me that look again and you'll ruin the surprise," you turn back to the gift, quickly finishing the last side so that the glint in his eyes can't stop you.

  sugawara looks back to you, making sure you can see the gentle smile twitching on his lips. bringing his hands up to your cheeks, he gives you a short kiss, letting his thumbs rest upon your cheekbones. sighing into your lips, he leans back, "alright, i’ll stop now. care to show me which present is next?" 

  pointing to the top of the pile, you spot your brother’s present, a new science educational book that he’d been looking forward to. sugawara picks it up, not expecting the weight that comes with the book. “be careful, it feels like it’ll rip the wrapping paper,” he whispers, handing it off to you.

  “i have wrapped heavier gifts, so let the expert finish their craft,” you smile towards him, whispering as well, acting like you have some reason to be doing so.

  setting it down onto the wrapping paper, you start folding the sides up and over, pulling slightly under the weight. and almost like sugawara had the power of foresight, you can hear the sound of a clean rip. upon hearing that annoying noise, you can feel sugawara’s eyes on you. staring at the ground, you smile. “you have to look at me eventually, oh expert of wrapping paper.”

  “no i don’t,” you shrug your shoulders, biting your lip, “i can just tie a ribbon around the not-rip.”

  he brings his hands back up to your cheeks, tilting your head back to him. closing your eyes, you start to laugh under his touch, knowing that he’s waiting patiently for you to finally look at him. conceding, your eyes open up to look at him while biting your upper lip to stop any further laughter, “told you so.”

  “did you koshi? i don’t even remember talking about it…” you shake your head under his hands, nose crinkling as he rolls his eyes. 

  sugawara lowers his hands and motions back to the wrapping paper, watching as you fold it back up with as much love as you did with the last. he’s always enjoyed watching you wrap presents. watching your hands work their best to create a beautifully crafted gift, it’s always brought a smile to his face. 

  looking back to him, hand picking up a longer ribbon, your eyes staying on his. “would you mind?” you question, wrapping it around the underside of the box.

  “my fingers are always here for you,” sugawara looks back towards you, resting his finger on where the ribbon intersects, crossing so you can create a little bow.

  tying a small bow into the ribbon, he removes his finger. moving his hand to the small of your back, his eyes stay on your face as you curl the ends of the bow strings. a smile curls into his lips, gaze unable to break from the soft light that bounces off of your face. not even the unbreakable stare you have and your tongue sticking out of your mouth in concentration can defer his love.

  “thank you, koshi, you’re making this process much more enjoyable.”

  “anything for you darling,” he leans forward, kissing your cheek before grabbing the next present for you. it’s one that’s in a mysterious cardboard box, immediately intriguing sugawara and his sticky fingers.

  pulling away at the side, you catch his suspicious behavior, grabbing the box from his hands. “that’s your other present, so leave it alone or i’m returning it,” you set it down on a new wrapping paper roll, the red and green trees making a beautiful mix, “and don’t you dare try to look at me with those gorgeous eyes again.”

gen. taglist (open): @eggyrocks @causenessus @applepi25 @softpia @bakery-anon

@nekozaki @nnnyxie @kameyyy @nectardaddy (i had to tag you)

[jayzioxx]

If closure existed after pain

Wanderer x male!reader

[Name] who was not originally from this world. The only one whom the fate of Teyvat didn't affect. Yet, he wished it did. Memories erased from irminsul remained for him, and forgotten pasts failed to cease to exist to him.

The balladeer? Who was that? He shouldn't know. Nobody knows. So why does he know? Why?

"Why me?" He asked himself.

"Why am I the only one?"

"Why did he have to do that to himself?"

Why did he give up on himself? Why did he not remember his one true believer, the one who would do everything to hand him the world on a silver platter?

[Name] begged him to stay. He groveled on his knees, yet no one understood. Why did Buer send him on that mission? Did she really not know? Why, why, why!?

"Whats up with that guy?" Whispered a man on the street to his lady love.

"Is he dying?" An innocent child asked her mother.

"He seems like he might croak right in the middle of the road." Said a merchant to his fellow.

"I can hear all of you. You fools."

Words he only spoke in his head.

"You're treading on the world which should belong to him."

Unjustly his.

"Why did he have to be sacrificed for vermin like you?"

It's unfair how fair his pain was.

The black cloak covering [name] head to toe saved the passersby from his hateful gaze. He couldn't ruin the peace his lord- his love, brought with his sacrifice. He dragged his broken, battered mortal frame away from the city, stepping closer and closer to the high ledges of Sumeru's terrain.

"He's gone. Face it. You failed." He muttered to himself. Truly, he's become a madman. The 6th harbinger's trusted aide, his right hand man, the one to dish out anything that was too unclean for him, despite him never commanding the man to.

"I suppose I should pay for my sins, just like he gave himself up for the world." He uttered what were supposed to be his final words and took a step towards the ever so beautiful death he desired.

Before he could finally meet the sweet death he desired, he felt himself being pulled back by the neck of his clothes.

"Whoever 'he' was, surely he didn't exclude you from his world."

[Name]'s eyes widened, filled with unshed tears. That familiar, beautiful voice. Was he hallucinating in his final moments? Or was he already dead? Did he die while falling?

"You think he 'gave himself up' just so you could die?"

"Stop."

"You think he didn't love you enough to die for you?"

"STOP!" The cloaked man cried. "Stop it! Why can't I just feel some closure! Why do you appear even in my death?! Why am I so happy to suffer for you, you bastard!"

He wept till his eyes turned dry and red, till his lungs nearly collapsed, till he couldn't find a morsel of strength in him.

"Are you real? Or have I gone mad? Are you really him? Are you lord Scaramouche?" He asked, his face buried in his knees. The other man sat beside him, placing a gentle hand on his head, stroking the hair sticking to his forehead back.

"I'm not him. I don't plan to become him either."

For the first time in years, [name] finally felt himself crack a true smile as tears continued to fall from his eyes once more. "Good. I don't think I could try to give you the world, just to fail and watch you suffer again." He said between sobs. Wanderer only continued to stroke his hair comfortingly

"It's not your fault. You don't need to do anything again either. Just wait and watch me give you everything I can possibly gather with these false hands."

"It's the least I could do after everything I put you through."

This may be closure for myself cuz of how heartbroken i felt that he had to give himself up after everything