#are these tags a sign i'm not as over it as i thought??? perhaps. or is it just a sign that i'm in the angry haha fuck you stage???

[wolves-in-the-world]

the thing about eliot spencer as a character, right. the thing about him.

(and as always your mileage may vary on my analyses so if we disagree that's cool actually)

is that he is in fact a somewhat emotionally constipated idiot who is occasionally sensitive about his perceived masculinity and gets defensive about emotional intimacy around other men (largely hardison, who's much more comfortable expressing affection and embracing a softer kind of masculinity), but eliot displays enough emotional awareness and sensitivity and respect for women etc etc that anyone who's been subjected to that era of television will put on rose-tinted glasses without even looking twice.

(and he is, don't get me wrong, incredibly emotionally aware for a professionally punchy guy with enough trauma to sink the titanic. it still startles me to see.)

on top of which we have the layers and the accessories and the excellent hair with the secret braids and the way he barely has an ego and he's good with kids and protective of his team without taking it too far, and some of us never stood a fucking chance.

[yououghtaknow]

feeling myself Actually move on is insane..... what do you Mean i don't want to cry every time i see her????

[awritesthings1]

Gone with the Leaves

Pairing: Tommy Shelby / Wife Reader

Summary: Despite your happy marriage to Tommy, you feel an undeniable jealousy towards Lizzie. Perhaps a day in the forest will do you some good.

ao3 link

A/N: I'm starting a tag list, comment if you want to be added :)

-

“You write like you’re running out of time,” mused Lizzie Stark, former prostitute, now Tommy’s secretary. “They have typewriters for those types of things, y’know?”

You saw the volley of cannonballs that launched and subsequently landed on Tommy’s desk as the words left her mouth. It wasn’t that you expected more of poor old plain Lizzie, but you thought that the time she had spent lying on her back staring past the shoulder of a customer at the ceiling would have taught her to read a room. Nevertheless, she stood there, quite amused with herself, smiling stupidly at your husband.

Tommy, who had been sitting at his desk all afternoon attending to letters, the ledger, and god knows what else, peered up from the paper. “What did you say?”

This time, it was your turn to be amused. He pointed accusingly at Lizzie, who by then had realised her impetuous mistake. Her wide eyes fluttered to you desperately, like a bee that had indulged itself in so much pollen that it became stuck in its own honey. No, that was putting it lightly. She looked to you like a frightened child who knew exactly what kind of trouble they were in.

You made sure you looked the other way.

“It was only a silly joke,” came her spluttering apology.

Tommy squinted, and his mouth curled into a frown. Smoke chased the deep exhale from the cigarette hanging between his lips. Your husband carried this terrifying look to him that many feared. Without the peaky cap to cover his striking blue eyes, you saw his glare cut away the cords in Lizzie’s throat with just one look. How could poor Lizzie defend herself from eyes that had witnessed nightmarish things?

“I’m not clear. Is it funny that I sign my letters by hand, or are you above using ink now that you have graduated from the bed to the desk?”

Lizzie’s mouth wormed into a thin line, yet she still looked to you for help. Of what help she thought you would possibly spare, you weren’t sure. For once, Lizzie used initiative and showed herself out.

Your heels clacked across the wooden threshold of your husband’s office. Now that no one was there to disturb you both, you sat down on Tommy’s lap. By then, he was leaning back on his chair, work abandoned for the time being until he could wash the sour sight of Lizzie Stark from his eyes.

“You know I don’t like her,” you said plainly.

There was no need for fake smiles or lies with Tommy. You knew him, and he knew you.

Tommy exhaled loudly, stubbing out the last of his cigarette on his ashtray and taking a swig of whiskey before his calloused hand found your waist.

He clears his throat. “It’s only business with her.”

“I know, but that doesn’t mean I like her any less.”

Tommy loved you, not Lizzie Stark, yet you couldn’t stomach the undeniable jealousy that arose with her presence. Perhaps it was a natural inclination women had toward their lovers. Lizzie had never done anything outwardly wrong to you. So, what was it then that turned your plain teeth into hissing fangs?

Everyone knew that Tommy was one of her paying customers before you met him, but so were all of Small Heath. You never felt insecure in your relationship with Tommy; there was no need to feel threatened by a prostitute. Yet that wouldn’t stop the catty feline that emerged from its slumber when Lizzie’s wandering eyes battered at your husband.

No. Lizzie Stark would never know what it felt like to be loved by a man like Tommy. What you held in your hands each night was a transcendental, unconditional type of love—one that surpassed the heart and soul, which drew two beings together in the most unconventional yet fitting way. The way that covers kept you warm at night, Tommy watched over your hearth and kept the fire burning, even if he were on the other side of the country.

You closed your eyes, leaning into the valley between Tommy’s neck and shoulder as you listened for the bah-dum-bah-dum of his heart. They sat together in silence, cherishing each other’s presence, while Tommy rested his cheek on your head. Outside, the world waited, barking at their front door and scratching at the delicately carved wood. Even the rain lashed at the windowpanes, playing together like one elemental orchestra.

The hand not resting on your waist rose to gently stroke up and down your arm. You shivered, but it wasn’t from the cold.

“I think you have some work to attend to in the bedroom,” you mumbled into his neck.

Your nose searched for the spot where he applied his aftershave.

“Eh?” Came his gruff response.

Your hand wandered down his suit in answer.

-

The sheets were bundled around Tommy’s naked waist when you sauntered back over to the bed with his case of cigarettes in hand. Gratefully, he took the case from your hand, wrapping an arm around your shoulder to pull you into the warmth of his chest. Then he began the usual routine. He fished out a cigarette to offer, but you shook your head no, so he slid it once, then twice, across his bottom lip. On the bedside table, he grabbed the half-empty matchbox to light the cigarette.

Tommy was the resident chain smoker in your house. With an appetite for tobacco and whiskey, you often wondered just how he sustained himself throughout the day. Of course, there were the home-cooked meals at Arrow House waiting for his return, although that didn’t stop you from worrying any less. It was pathetic, really, sitting all alone in his study, twiddling your fingers, and sitting beneath his portrait like you were praying to him. Tommy was no god, no matter how much he tried to convince everyone else. Yet whenever headlights passed the window and lit up the office momentarily, you would stand up and peer out, hoping to spot your husband exiting the car.

He cleared his throat, drawing your attention back to the present. You loved watching the way the cigarette shifted between his lips when he spoke, even more when his hooded eyes looked over at you. Tommy was a man of few words, simply because he didn’t need language to communicate. His body spoke for him in tongues for all his enemies to understand. And more importantly, in a way your body understood.

Your hand abandoned his tattoo to stroke a thumb across his full bottom lip. Lust swelled there, eager to chase the rest of the night away into a haze of pleasure until the sun rose. As tempting as it was, you sighed at the thought. You would rather spend this time taking in your husband, remembering the fine details across his face and body, from the scar in the hollow of his cheek to the rough texture beneath his shoulder blade where a bullet was once lodged. You wanted to trace the sockets of his eyes the way a blind person would, treasuring each valley, mountain, and cut of skin as if it were to disappear the second you stopped touching him.

“You’re beautiful,” you decided, bathed in candlelight, tangled up between the sheets and Tommy’s arms.

Tommy’s brows furrowed, and the cigarette hung dangerously loose from where his lips curled into a frown. He grunted, clearly dissatisfied with your words. Tommy wasn’t beautiful. He was hard, ambitious, and unmovable force.

Beautiful was a conventional word savored for the finest women. To you? It meant so much more. Crafted in a way that would cause people to stare, sure, but there was also a poetic sense to the word. The type of beauty you would use to describe a well-written novel or heart-wrenching poem. Thomas Shelby stood for something, and that was beautiful.

“Then what are you, eh?”

A lazy smile floated onto your face, so much so that you had to bite your lip to refrain from looking devastatingly pleased at his answer.

A woman, a dreamer, a friend, a reader, an achiever. “A wife.”

He huffed, raising his eyebrows playfully.

Why was it that most women felt like they could only fit the frame of one? With Tommy, you were never limited to the endless possibilities. You treasured being a wife the same way you treasured your other roles. Marriage wasn’t the end all be all. Perhaps that’s another lie men spun—that perfectly capable women stopped existing as soon as a diamond ring slid onto their finger. How sad, you thought, to waste away all that potential when men were still free to pursue stupid ideas like war and dog fights.

Tommy was unbothered by traditional ideas like that. Change powered his ambition; he had no time for parallel lines. You could be his wife, a writer, a singer, or a mother—whatever you wanted—and he wouldn’t think of you any less.

You hummed, chasing that cigarette from his lips and stubbing it out in the ash tray by his bedside table. Tommy didn’t seem too heartbroken about it. In fact, there was some mirth in his gaze. His hands traced up your naked spine, pulling your body further into his until you could smell the smoke in his breath.

“Yes,” he breathed in loudly through his nose, “my wife.”

-

The following day, you were invited to the Basnett's hunting party. You would’ve been more enthusiastic to write about your excitement to attend if the whole ordeal hadn’t been so troublesome. Because a few days prior, when you were visiting your husband’s office, you had caught sight of the letter on Lizzie’s desk, a letter that was supposed to reach you days earlier.

“What’s this?” You asked.

“Oh, nothing interesting,” Lizzie had said, too occupied with filing her nails while on the clock.

You kept your composure for the sake of keeping the peace. You didn’t wish to disturb Tommy if he were to walk by.

“This is a letter addressed to me,” you pressed.

“Oh.” She stopped for a moment, then leaned over to read the letter you had pulled from the messy pile. “No, it’s addressed to Tommy.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Shelby,” you hissed quietly, with emphasis on the missus.

“Hm, I didn’t notice.”

“You are paid to notice.” You fought the urge to comment that she was paid for other things not long ago. “How long has this been sitting here?”

Lizzie tapped her cigarette ash into the tray. “The post boy dropped that lot off yesterday.”

Even if it was only two days late to reach your hand, by society’s standards, that may have well been taken as you snubbing the invitation. Frustratingly, you had to cancel your plans that day and personally deliver your letter to the Basnett’s door, citing some excuse of it having been lost in the post.

“That woman is up to no good.” You said glumly that night into Tommy’s chest.

“I’ll speak to her,” he promised in that stoic tone of his.

Whether he had been true to his words, you weren’t sure because Lizzie made an effort to avoid you when possible.

“Oh! Mrs. Shelby! How wonderful for you to join us! Come in, come in. The men are readying their rifles for the hunt outside. How exciting!” Gushed Lady Basnett, shooing you into the atrium of her lavish mansion.

Your riding boots clacked across the floor before being muffled by an intricately woven rug. You stared up at the chandelier, childishly wondering if it would hit you if it were to fall at that moment.

“Right this way, Mrs. Shelby!” Lady Basnett ushered excitably.

You debated if all her energy was for show—to please her husband and be the good wife he expected of her. After she showed you through to the veranda and down to the circle of wives who had gathered under the trees while their husbands readied for the hunt, you decided that no, she must truly enjoy planning social occasions like this, as evidenced by the way she kissed Sarah’s cheek in greeting with a wide grin.

It pleased you to know that Lady Basnett found joy in something. Ever since her eldest died in the war, she has been known to be a bit of a recluse.

“Oh, what a beautiful ring! May we see it?” Doe-eyed Catherine asked.

She was one of the younger wives, like yourself. Catherine married an older man, twice her senior. Many of the wives here faulted her for it behind her back, but not you. You saw more of yourself in her than you did in any of the other women. Because, despite the age gap, the girl seemed to be utterly head-over-heels in love with a man society deemed old-fashioned for her. And how could you blame her when you swore an oath to a gangster of all people?

You obliged and let the wives twist and turn your hand to better inspect the diamonds on your ring finger.

“It’s perfect!”

“How many carats?”

“My Mary would be so jealous!”

After dutifully showing your wedding ring, you noticed the men beginning to mount their horses.

Catherine hooked her arm around yours. “Come on, we are going to be left behind!”

She jovially pulled you along the stone tiles at a speed that made you grateful for wearing riding boots. The backyard was grand in the sense that the acres they owned stretched vastly into the nearby forest. Although there were impressive features, like the hedge they had grown into a maze and the trees that were shaped into birds.

“Lady Basnett owned an aviary of budgies. Dear little things they were, she was devastated when they all escaped one night after the groundskeeper forgot to close the door,” Catherine commented, having noticed the way your head was turned.

You laughed, because you could precisely picture Lady Basnett as the type to fawn over little budgies.

Catherine led you to the horses, where some of the wives were already perched, waiting for the party to leave. None of them carried rifles, but rather wicker baskets strapped to the saddle for the picnic they planned to have at the top of the hill while they waited for their husbands to finish hunting.

Together, you set off, having mounted the back of Catherine’s mare. Deeper into the forest you went, the black mare trotting over loose dirt and rocks. Both of you remained at the end of the pack, preferring to keep to yourselves in light conversation.

Then it all happened so suddenly. One of the rifles went off up ahead, and a flock of birds rushed at you from the break in the foliage, startling your mare. You gasped in shock and reached for Catherine’s jacket to hold on, but only skimmed her. She went face first into the dirt while you were swept into the air like a leaf and fell with the grace of a rock. The ground thundered as the mare galloped into the distance.

“Fuck!” Catherine spat.

(On her fall she had taken a mouthful of soil and leaves.)

“They’ll come back,” you tried to reassure her.

-

Hours later, the two of you still had not been found.

“I was a prostitute before George found me, y’know.”

No, you didn’t know.

“That’s why I’m so young and he so old,” she smiled fondly, laughing as if it were the most normal thing.

You couldn’t find it in your heart to dislike her because of her circumstances. She was your friend, and a true one at that.

What was it that Tommy said? The past is the past.

-

The sun began to set when one of the men from the hunting party found you both huddled together under a tree. Kindly, he let the two of you ride the rest of the way back despite your hesitance to mount another horse.

When you returned to Lady Basnett’s, with Catherine in arm, the sun had been set for at least two hours. You hadn’t realized what trouble you had gotten yourself into until you noticed Tommy’s Bentley parked in the crowded driveway of the mansion. Men stood at the gate, armed and waiting. Catherine opened her mouth to remark how ridiculous it was, but you kept your lips sealed after recognizing the guards to be Peaky Blinders.

Tommy had to be beside himself.

A young boy who was playing between the cars popped his head out when the gates squealed open. His ears perked up, and he ran inside, clutching his peaky cap, to probably inform the adults inside of your arrival. People pooled out onto the front steps, the women covering their hearts and sighing with relief, and the men holding their hats to their chests. But when your husband, Tommy, came storming out, they parted like the red sea.

He stalked across the gravel like a predator, his eyes trained on you with an unblinking stare.

“Are you hurt?” He ignored Catherine, cupping your face and frantically looking between both your eyes as if you would disappear.

Upon further inspection, his eyes were bloodshot, and the white sleeves of his blouse were bundled into the golden garters. Your hands itched to muse his disheveled hair into place, but with all the curious onlookers, you thought better of it.

“No.”

George, Catherine’s husband, was quick to whisk her away inside. You heard Lady Basnett’s voice trailing after them: “Oh my, what a terrible thing. Come now, let me pour you some tea.”

Unfortunately, tea wouldn’t make up for any lost ground with Tommy.

“We’re going.”

You knew better to open your mouth to disagree. This was Tommy being afraid and carrying on. He retreated into himself. It didn’t look pretty or like he cared, but he cared; you knew he cared. It was only that no one else was allowed to know that the great Thomas Shelby felt any emotion.

At Arrow House, he swallowed two glasses of whiskey before saying a word. You were pulling at the hem of the overcoat that Tommy had shook off his shoulders to give you for the ride home. Your fingers just couldn’t stand the anxious silence that rang throughout the room.

“What the fuck happened?”

He stood in front of you, stoic as a soldier but cracking around the exterior thanks to his hand, which itched for the cigarette case inside his pocket. (A nervous tick of his.) You grab his hand between your own before he can fish out the case.

“The horse got spooked. It bucked Catherine and me off, but we’re fine.”

His thumb rubs across your knuckles as he looks past your shoulder out the window.

“Do you know where I was when I got the call? Eh? I was handling some business when Lizzie came in and told me some posh old woman was on the line, saying you were missing.”

He exhaled sharply, dropping his gaze to you, where you noticed his eyes soften.

“I thought…” He broke off.

His chin dropped, and he went to itch his nose with his other hand.

“What did you think happened? Is there something I should know about?” Concern leaked into your voice.

“No,” he huffed, clearing his throat. “It doesn’t matter. You’re home, and you’re safe.”

You bit your lip to stop yourself from saying anything that might push him over the edge. He was fragile in a state like this in the sense that he pushed the stronger, more vivid feelings to the side because you were his wife, not a Peaky Blinder. No, you would never be, even though you married one.

Often, you would wish you could turn into the leaves that swept off the pavement and into the air. Imagine then how much easier life would be for you both—to forget the animosity of life and rise above it all, breathe in that crystal air, and then finally exclaim the truth because up there no one could hear them or cared enough to try anyway.

Cautiously, you let go of his hand and traced your fingertips up to knead away the tension in his jaw.

“Thomas… Do you remember what you asked of me? To help you with the whole fucking thing—”

“From now on—”

“Thomas—”

“From now on, let me know where you are going. I will organize a guard to watch over you.”

‘You write like you’re running out of time,’ Lizzie’s poorly placed joke from the start of the week reverberated in your skull.

Was he?

“I need you,” he breathed, the smell of whiskey fanning over your senses.

You nodded, pressing up on your toes to kiss him. A soft breath escaped him when you pulled away.

“You have me.”

[deathbxnny]

hey i was wondering if you could do how arcane characters would react to seeing their partner looking really good dressed up?? also i love ur writing!!

Arcane characters reacting to their s/o dressed up really pretty. | Vi, Ekko, Jinx x Gn!Reader

Thank you for the request, Anon, and I hope you'll enjoy this!!<3

Content: Established romantic relationships, fluff, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns.

((Not proofread))

》VI

"Ooh... where are we going?" A wide grin rested on her lips as she watched you put on your fancy shoes and straighten out the last details of your pretty attire. "I'm going out with a couple friends." In other words, she was not invited. But Vi couldn't hear you over the sound of her mind spinning with many different thoughts.

Humming, she leaned against a wall next to you, intensely dark eyes staring you down with a glint that made you shake your head in defiance. "No." "Oh come on, Cupcake! Do you really have to go out today? I mean... I can go along. It's dangerous around this time of the night and-" "-Viiii. I can take care of myself." She pouted at your clear disagreement, hardly attempting to even hide how much she loved the way you looked.

"Aw... please? At least let me tag alone so I can show you off to everyone." Typical. And yet, you had a hard time denying her anything when her hands suddenly sneaked around your waist so smoothly. She always got what she wanted out of you in the end. Not that you necessarily minded.

"Fineeee... but keep your hands to yourself around them." You huff out whilst your heart warmed a t the sight of pure excitement on her face. But the slyness in her smirk didn't leave as she gratefully kissed your cheek and let go. "Can't promise you that when you're looking so good, unfortunately... but I'll try. For now."

Rolling your eyes with a smile, you let her happily run off to get ready, glad that she enjoyed your outfit a lot.

》EKKO

He was stunned at the sight of you emerging from the bedroom, fully dressed up so beautifully it left him speechless. The Firelights were having a huge festival in celebration of a recent successful mission, and of course, you were both expected to look your best. And you weren't the type to ever disappoint either.

It was rare to see you dressed up so nicely, the cute outfit being one he had only seen a small couple of times before due to your line of work and life circumstances. But in his mind, you looking so good was a sign of success. He wanted you to be able to dress that way every day, perhaps another motivation of his to continue going.

"How do I look?" You ask, the nervous tone in your voice making his eyes soften even further. "You look great. Who are you trying to impress, hm?" His words were playful as he grabbed your waist carefully. Ekko mirrored the shy smile that crept onto your lips at his question. "A certain someone. I don't think you know him, though." You played along, watching as he raised a brow with an unimpressed smirk.

"Hm... maybe we shouldn't go out then-" "-Oi! Why are you guys taking so long? Let's get going." Scar's voice made you both jump, as he appeared in the doorway and waved you over. A sly smirk crept onto your face as you quickly followed after the man. "Ah, there he is! See ya around, Ekko!" "Hey! I'll remember this-!" Running after you two, he couldn't help but laugh a little.

The festival was going to be great, to say the least.

》JINX

You were just trying out some new clothes you had gotten. Nothing special and definitely not for anyone else's eyes, except for hers. Once you were done, you were quick to hunt down your girlfriend to show her your outfit. "Jinx! How do I look?" You asked, a happy smile on your lips as you now stood next to her, whilst she tinkered away on some projects. Removing her googles, she glanced up at you and blinked in surprise, near speechless for a moment.

Nervously shifting under her intense gaze, you wondered if she didn't like it. "Uhm... should I go change or-" "-You look really good..." She muttered thoughtfully before a large grin crept onto her lips mischievously. "A bit too good! Makes me nearly jealous, pretty. How about you dress me up too so we can match?" You should have honestly seen this coming, as she enjoys doing cute things like that with you.

And so, you did as she asked, whilst she painted your nails to match her own. By the end of it, you looked like you were headed to a fancy event, something she found greatly amusing. Kicking a nearby radio to make it play music, she held out her hand to you with a bright smile. "Alright, let's get this party started!"

[ohproserpine]

vii. deer dolly

see all chapters here tags: fem! reader, heavy warning for violence and blood, overdose, murder, death, hunting, graphic descriptions of injuries, vox being painfully obvious, vox malfunctions (lmao L), allusion to death, valentino warning, alastor's demon form

Rocks and twigs dug into your knees as you crawled forward, the jagged edges cutting your skin as you reached Alastor's side. With trembling hands, you cradled his face against your lap.

"Alastor," you called for him, desperately clutching onto his body, trying to pull him back down to Earth and hold him there "Al, Al, please."

"What did I do? What can I do?" More tears dribbled down your cheeks as you looked down at your husband, leaning in to press tender kisses to the apples of his cheeks. You held him as tightly as you could, careful not to cause him any more pain.

"I can figure out a way to help you, I can. I know I can, baby," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. Your gaze remained locked with your husband's lifeless eyes, the world spinning around you as panic tightened its grip on your chest, making it difficult to breathe.

"Al. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

˚୨୧₊♱

You woke with a startle.

Gasping for breath, your chest heaved with each inhale, the rapid beat of your pulse slamming against your ribcage, the sound hammering in your head. Blinking repeatedly, your vision slowly adjusted to the unfamiliar sight of a ceiling painted with outrageously colorful prints. Faint traces of neon lights filtered through the thin curtains, casting erratic patterns across the room, accompanied by the distant thump of music.

A gentle knocking at the door broke through the haze, accompanied by the muted tones of a familiar voice seeping through the metal barrier.

"Dollface? Are you up?" Vox's voice, though muffled, was unmistakable as it filtered through the door.

Shakily, you pushed yourself up and sat for a while, gathering your composure. The room spun around you, the vibrant colors of the walls and lights blurring into a dizzying kaleidoscope. Eventually, with a deep breath, you pushed yourself into action, moving to open the door.

As you swung it open, Vox stood on the other side, his signature smirk etched onto his features. His mechanical eyes gleamed as they scanned you for any signs of distress or fatigue. And despite your disorientation, you straightened your posture, trying to maintain your usual demeanor in front of him.

"Good morning," Vox greeted smoothly. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything?"

Of course, he wasn't interrupting anything. It was clear to both of you that you had just rolled out of bed. Your hair tousled in disarray, your sleepwear crumpled and creased, and your bed behind you a mess of twisted sheets and pillows.

Still, you forced a polite smile and shook your head.

"No, not at all," you replied.

"Excellent," Vox grinned, stepping a foot past your doorway. "May I come in?"

Despite the internal alarm bells ringing in your mind, you nodded, moving aside to let him in. As he passed by, you couldn't shake the feeling of being scrutinized, like prey under the gaze of a predator before the pounce.

Closing the door, you leaned against it, feeling the cool surface against your back, and turned to face Vox, attempting to hide the unease simmering within.

"What can I help you with?" you asked, keeping your tone steady.

Vox's gaze pierced yours, his mechanical eyes glinting with a hunger that unsettled you.

"I thought of how we could discuss the details of our partnership," he hummed, running his fingers along your dresser. "Over dinner, perhaps?"

The proposal hung in the air, heavy with implications you weren't sure you wanted to explore. Despite your best efforts to hide it, a seething sense of unease bubbled beneath the surface, twisting your features into a grimace.

"Dinner?" The word felt like acid on your tongue as you struggled to maintain your façade, your gaze sharpening into a glare aimed directly at the overlord. "I'm sorry, but… I'm not interested."

Vox's laughter cut through the tense atmosphere, but it sounded forced and hollow.

"I meant a professional meeting, love," he covered up with a wave of his hand, the charm in his voice slightly strained. "Let's go over your contract."

Relieved, you nodded, though beneath, a whirlwind of thoughts swirled.

This could be a chance for you to really have a gauge on your situation. Everything had happened so fast, and you found yourself stumbling in the dark. You knew the Vees were a powerhouse in the entertainment district, their influence stretching far and wide, extending into every corner of hell. They were notorious for their employment methods, for their ability to shape destinies and manipulate lives with the stroke of a pen.

Who knows what was even in your contract?

"Wonderful!" Vox's cheerful interruption jolted you from your thoughts as he extended his arm. "Well then, let's not waste any more time. Shall we?"

"Shall we what?" you spoke slowly, your tone guarded.

"Shall we get to your duties, my dear?" Vox clarified smoothly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, his words laden with expectation. "Velvette is waiting."

"Oh—" you jolted. Quickly, you gathered yourself, smoothing down the wrinkles of your robe and adjusting your disheveled hair with clumsy fingers.

Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you reached out and linked your arm with Vox's. The overlord smirked as he led you out of the room and through the corridors, already launching into conversation about his latest product line.

A part of you found it amusing how similar he was to your husband—both of them chatterboxes who couldn't keep their mouths shut if they tried.

Nodding along to Vox's conversation, you fell into step beside him. As you two walked, it was impossible not to notice the subtle shift in demeanor among the demons and imps, who hastily cleared a path for Vox, some even bowing respectfully as you passed by.

"And here we are!"

Arriving at Velvette's office, you entered cautiously, the tension thick in the air. Models lounged around in various states of undress, their statuesque figures draped in luxurious fabrics. Their expressions ranged from curiosity to suspicion as they observed your every move. Some whispered amongst themselves in hushed tones, casting wary glances in your direction, while others maintained an aloof demeanor, their gazes piercing yet blank.

Velvette stood at the front, her figure partially obscured by the tall curtains behind her. Her eyes, sharp and calculating, swept over you with open scorn.

"Finally! Took ya long enough," Velvette scowled. "Edna, will you please go get her dressed?!"

Edna, a tall and slender imp with delicate horns curved against her head, nodded obediently before gliding over to you. With a gentle tug on your arm, she beckoned you to follow her backstage. You stumbled nervously, clutching your robe as you obeyed.

As you stepped away, Vox chuckled, waving you off with a flourish. You offered a cautious wave back before being enveloped by the heavy fabric of the curtains.

"I know what you're trying," Velvette scoffed as she tapped away on her phone, her perfectly manicured nails, painted in a glossy shade of neon pink, clacking against the screen. Vox turned to her, his expression one of exaggerated innocence.

"Whatever do you mean?" he retorted, raising an eyebrow in mock surprise.

"Oh, please don't act as if you weren't sending marionnette over there heart eyes," Velvette accused, her crimson lips forming a thin line of disapproval. "Listen, I don't care what you do with your little girl toy. Just make sure you don't get in the way of my show."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Vox hummed, taking a seat on one of the plush couches.

Velvette turned to him, surprised, her curls bouncing from the abruptness of her movement. "You're staying?"

"Of course. I'm eager to see your dazzling ideas, my dear," Vox replied smoothly, spreading his long legs across the expanse of the couch. "After all, your show is going to be featured on my channels. It's all anyone has been raving about on Voxtagram lately."

"Cut the crap. You just want an excuse to ogle at her," Velvette scoffed.

Vox leaned back against the cushions, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Can you blame me? She's quite the sight to behold."

Before Velvette could snap back, Edna returned, leading you out from behind the curtains. You emerged, feeling somewhat exposed under the scrutinizing gazes of the two overlords.

No surprise, as the main act, you were dressed in one of Velvette's main designs. Black netted stockings hugged your legs as they met the bright red stilettos that adorned your feet. A red corset cinched your waist and emphasized the curve of your hips, accentuating your figure. Below the corset, you wore a dark miniskirt with cream ruffles and lace, its fabric swaying with every step.

You felt abash as you stood in the outfit. In the past, you had been considered a flapper girl with your bold demeanor and penchant for daring fashion choices, but even you couldn't help but feel a twinge of surprise at the lack of modesty of the skirt in this particular outfit. It barely grazed past your crotch, leaving almost nothing to the imagination.

"Let's see…" Velvette hummed, completely absorbed in her task as she approached you, Vox long forgotten. With a couple of snaps of her fingers, the clothing and accessories you wore began to shift and change, transforming before your eyes.

Velvette's fingers danced through the air, conjuring delicate lace and cascading ruffles that stuck onto the corset. With a flick of her wrist, she summoned a cream fur coat, draping it over your shoulders with a flourish. The colors morphed, the fabrics transformed, until finally, with a satisfied clap of her hands, she took a step back to admire your new look.

"Makeup!"

Suddenly, you yelped as a chair was dragged over, pushing against the back of your knees and causing you to fall right into it. A bunch of imps swarmed around you and they wasted no time in getting to work, dabbing various products onto your face and expertly brushing powder along your cheeks.

Once they were finished, they handed you a mirror, allowing you to inspect their handiwork. Unlike the outfit, the makeup look wasn't as unsettling. Your face was adorned with makeup reminiscent of classic clown makeup, featuring exaggerated lashes, a layer of white face paint, and a bold red lip.

"That's it! That's the one," Velvette grinned, delighted with the makeover. Her grin turned into a smirk as she turned to Vox. "Well, what do you think—Satan!"

Vox's screen began to glitch and buffer, emitting sparks of electricity that charred the couch beneath him. The sudden noise startled some of the models, their eyes widening in alarm as they scrambled to move away from the malfunctioning android.

"The hell is wrong with you?" Velvette shouted.

Vox tried to respond, but all that came out was static.

Concerned, you approached him, the clicking of your heels against the floor echoing.

As you settled beside Vox, there was a momentary pause in the static, and he stared at you with wide eyes, the malfunction seemingly halted by your presence.

Part of you screamed at yourself to leave, to let him handle his problems alone. But another part of you remained, despite everything. Somehow, you still felt a sliver of sympathy for the overlord.

Leaning in closer, you furrowed your brow, the red gloss on your lips catching the studio lights. The corset pushed your chest up, and Vox found his eyes shamelessly drifting.

"Are you okay?" you whispered, your voice laced with genuine worry.

But before Vox could respond, he short-circuited, a burst of sparks and smoke emitting from his malfunctioning screen. You recoiled instinctively, your hand reaching out to shield yourself from any potential danger. With a final surge of electricity, he powered down completely, leaving behind a smoldering heap of metal and wires.

"Is he… okay?"

Velvette waved a dismissive hand. "He's always doing this. Probably overloaded his circuits again."

"Now, can someone please get this thing out of here?!" she commanded, snapping her fingers and tapping her foot impatiently.

As the models and attendants hurried to comply, you were pulled back up to your feet by the overlord. "He'll reboot eventually. Now, let's get back to work."

Reluctantly tearing your gaze away from Vox, you followed after Velvette as she led the way to a photo studio within the boutique.

The scene before you was akin to a circus, with vibrant hues of bright reds and pinks resembling a Valentine's Day massacre. A carousel in the background spun slowly, its eerie music echoing through the studio. Beating hearts hung suspended from the ceiling, their rhythmic pulses visible as they dripped with blood.

"Alright! Let's get the rehearsal started!" Velvette shouted out as she began to direct the crew. Cameras were adjusted, lights were fine-tuned, and the set was re-arranged to her satisfaction.

Turning to you with a tablet in hand, Velvette tossed it into your hands. You caught the device and quickly read through the document on the screen, realizing it was lyrics to a song. Your eyes rushed to memorize the words, the familiarity of the process washing over you.

Decades in the show industry had honed your skills to perfection, making this routine feel like second nature. A small pang of nostalgia tugged at your heartstrings, reminding you of simpler times before everything went amiss.

“Alright.”

Barely giving you ten minutes to prepare, Velvette deftly plucked the tablet from your hands as she stepped back and settled into a director's chair. The chair creaked softly under her weight as she made herself comfortable, slipping on heart-shaped glasses that glinted in the studio lights.

"Let's see what you've got.”

Lifting the scepter to your lips, you pressed it against your mouth, leaving a trace of red lipstick staining the surface, a stark contrast against the sleek metal. As the lights dimmed, signaling the start of your performance, you took a deep breath and began to recite the lyrics.

I write poems to burn by firelight Drink champagne and guzzle gin Good girls call me "the town bicycle" Don't knock it 'til you've tried my life of sin

With a flick of your hand, you pushed back the curls of your hair, the strands catching the studio lights as you kept your gaze glued to the camera lens. From her chair, Velvette smirked and captured the moment with her phone, the flash briefly blinding the dimly lit set.

Oh, my pimp, knows never mess with me Last prick did that faded quick to black I have no idea where to find him, officers But if you do, please mention that I'd Like to have returned the pretty knife That I stuck ten times in his back—

Before you could even finish, the door burst open with a deafening bang, causing everyone in the room to jump in surprise. Valentino stormed into the boutique, his eyes blazing with unrestrained fury. Without uttering a single word, he launched into a violent rampage, his movements wild and unpredictable.

The air was filled with the sound of crashing props and the desperate, panicked screams of assistants as they scrambled to evade Valentino's wrath. You jerked back instinctively as an arm was thrown in your direction, narrowly avoiding the chaotic fray unfolding around you.

"Damn it, Valentino! What are you doing?!" Velvette shouted over the commotion, her voice strained with anger and disbelief as she dug her fingers into her hair, her perfectly styled locks now in disarray.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" the moth demon screamed back, his voice seething with rage as he held poor Edna by her throat, his grip like a vice around her delicate neck.

"I'm airing out my frustrations!" he spat, his eyes wild with fury.

A sickening tearing sound filled the room as Valentino viciously tore Edna apart, blood splattering across the floor and staining the nearby racks of clothing.

"Fuck!" Velvette cursed under her breath. Fumbling, she retrieved her phone, her fingers tapping against the screen in agitation as she dialed Vox's number.

"My dear," the businessman's smooth voice echoed through the speakers, a calming presence amidst the storm. "What can I do for you?"

"Cut the shit. Are you functioning now?" Velvette's words were clipped, forceful, her tone leaving no room for argument.

"Functioning?" The overlord's response was hesitant, his movements jerky as he twisted his head, the wires on his neck audibly cracking with a spark. "I… suppose so."

"Good, because I need you up here now!" Velvette's voice crackled with urgency. "Mothboy is wrecking my department! And I'm waiting for a certain flat-faced prince to come and help!"

Without another word, Vox nodded with a weary groan, the weight of responsibility settling heavily upon him like an oppressive cloak.

"Just another fuckin' day with Val," he scoffed bitterly, his tone tinged with resignation as he pushed himself to his feet with a mechanical whir. "Fuck my life."

In an instant, he transformed into a crackling spark of electricity, zipping up into the CCTV camera before seamlessly teleporting into another one located in Velvette's studio.

"What's going on?" Vox sighed wearily as he materialized, his voice tinged with exhaustion, hands folding behind his back as he surveyed the chaotic scene before him.

"Valentino's lost it again. And he's tearing everything apart," Velvette hissed as her hand shot up, grabbing Vox by the collar of his metallic frame.

Her nails dug into the surface, leaving faint marks as she pulled him down to her eye level. "You need to stop him before he causes any more damage!"

"Consider it done," Vox muttered, rolling his eyes before moving toward Valentino. With a firm grip, he halted the demon mid-carnage, spinning Valentino around to face him. An unsettling grin stretched across Vox's metallic features as he locked eyes with the enraged demon.

"Val! What's got you out of sorts today?"

“That piece of shit! Can you believe what he did?” Valentino snarled, his voice dripping with venom as he flung a small imp across the room, the helpless girl crashing into a clothing rack. “The ungrateful whore!”

"Uh huh, which whore are we talking about now?” Vox spoke nonchalantly as he pulled his phone out and idly scrolled through it. Before he could react, Valentino lunged forward, his claws snatching the device from Vox's grasp.

"Who else would I be talking about?!" Valentino spat, his grip tightening around the phone until it crushed in his hands. With a primal scream, he hurled the remains of the tech against a nearby wall, the impact causing the column to crack under the force of the blow.

You watched with a frown as Vox attempted to calm Valentino, but his efforts fell short against the demon's relentless anger. Despite Vox's attempts, Valentino continued to rage, his voice echoing through the room as he screamed about hotels, phone calls, and among other things you didn't bother picking up.

“Fuck. Alright, he's not calming down anytime soon,” Velvette scoffed, rolling her eyes. She turned to you and motioned for you to follow as she began storming out. “Come on."

Quickly, you nodded, falling into step behind Velvette as she navigated through the gory scene. Blood stained the bottom of your heels as you stepped past limbs and puddles of blood, bones cracked underfoot, and muscles squished beneath your weight. The overpowering scent of iron filled the air, mingling with the metallic tang of fear.

The overlord guided you out of the room and towards the other side of the building, where a door adorned with your name on a golden plaque awaited.

"This is your dressing room. We'll have another shoot in a few hours, so get yourself prepped in here while I go take care of the piss baby," Velvette scowled, already busying herself with her phone again.

"Will do," you sighed, running a hand through your hair, grateful for the moment of rest.

"Good. I'll see you then," Velvette declared with dramatic flair, her vibrant curls swirling around her face as she turned on her heels and walked away, leaving a trail of her perfume lingering in the air.

As you were about to step into your dressing room, the door beside you suddenly swung open with a creak, revealing a slice of the pink-filled bedroom beyond. To your surprise, you were met with the familiar sight of a fluff of white hair. An accented voice filled the air, screaming into a phone, the sound echoing down the corridor.

"I told ya, I didn't mean to—," The demon turned to you and froze, his eyes widening as he dropped his cigar in shock. The carpet beneath your feet caught fire from the dropped cigar, but neither of you seemed to care.

He stared at you, wide-eyed.

Hands flying up to your mouth, you stared back.

For a minute, all you could hear was the muted sounds of Valentino's screaming from the phone speaker and the building's hustle and bustle

"Dollface?" Angel Dust finally broke the silence, his voice barely above a whisper as he blinked dumbfounded. "What the hell are you doing here?!"

Your heart dropped like a heavy stone, sinking into the depths of your chest. Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision as you stood there.

Everything was becoming too much to even process. Your body betrayed you as you lost your balance, collapsing and hitting the floor. A high-pitched ringing pierced your ears, drowning out all other sounds, as warmth seeped from them.

"Aw, shit," Angel Dust hissed in panic. Without hesitation, he reached out and pulled you into his arms, dragging you into his room, the door closing behind you with a soft click.

Ending the call, he tossed his phone away and guided you to a plush couch, the fabric soft and inviting beneath your touch as you sank into its embrace. Angel Dust settled beside you, his presence comforting like a warm blanket on a cold night. He offered you a sympathetic smile, though slightly awkward, his eyes filled with understanding.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," he murmured soothingly, his words a gentle caress to your troubled soul.

Opening his arms wide, Angel offered you a hug, and you leaned into his embrace, finding solace in the warmth of his arms as he enveloped you in a comforting hug. Slowly, your senses came together as you nestled against him, the gentle rhythm of his breathing calming the storm of emotions raging within you.

"It's gonna be alright," he whispered softly, his voice a comforting murmur. Moving closer, he wiped away the warm liquid seeping from your ears. You could faintly see his hands moving away, stained with red. "You alright? What happened, mama?"

"A lot," you sighed, raising a hand to massage your temple as you recounted the events of the past 24 hours, from Mimzy's lounge getting busted down to your soul exchange with Vox.

Angel listened intently as you recounted the events, his expression shifting from concern to disbelief as he processed the gravity of what you had experienced.

"Damn, you've been through hell twice. You're one tough cookie, mama," Angel said with a warm smile as he reached for a brush on his vanity and gently ran it through your messed-up hair.

Despite the heaviness of the situation, a hint of laughter escaped you.

"You could say that," you sniffed, feeling a sense of relief wash over you as you let out a long-held sigh. "It's been a while since I've been able to let it all out like this. Most demons aren't exactly the nicest."

Angel Dust chuckled with a shrug, his hands gentle as he worked through the knots in your hair. "Yeah, I've… ah, been tryn'a to stay 'good' for a while now. Charlie's been real pushy with the redemption thing, and I thought, what the hell, why not?"

Suddenly, he paused his brushing and gawked at you, his eyes widening in realization. "Charlie! The hotel!"

Your heart skipped a beat as Angel Dust's words sank in. "The hotel," you echoed, the pieces of the puzzle starting to fall into place in your mind.

"Shit!" Angel laughed, running a hand through his hair. "Well, there ya go! I get off shift tonight, and I sure as hell can get my ass over there. Hell, I can leave right this instant if you want!"

"Won't Valentino be pissed?" you asked, a flicker of concern crossing your features. "You'll be—" Your gaze darted over to his discarded phone on the floor, which was buzzing with calls. "Well, already are in deep shit."

Angel Dust frowned, his expression hardening with resolve. He grabbed your coat and swiftly removed it, tossing it aside to cover the buzzing phone. "Fuck 'im. He can bark all he wants in the studio, but outside of it, he's got no power over me."

The spider leaned in, his touch as gentle as a soft breeze against your skin, his fingers delicate as they brushed a stray hair from your face. "I'll help you. So don't get your pretty little tits in a twist anymore, alright?"

With a heavy heart, you whispered your gratitude, bowing your head as tears continued to stream down your cheeks. Today had been bleak, but a glimmer of hope lingered for a brighter tomorrow.

"But I don't want to get you in trouble, Angel," you said softly, wiping away your tears, exhaustion washing over you. "I can wait until tonight."

Angel Dust's expression softened, a warm smile spreading across his face. "Nah, babe, ain't no trouble for me. Besides, waiting ain't my style, and I ain't about to let you deal with this mess alone."

"Plus," Angel grinned devilishly, his eyes sparkling with mischief, the corners of his lips curling up. "I know your man is going to tear shit down. And I want front row seats to all that drama."

˚୨୧₊♱

"NO!"

Charlie shrieked, her voice piercing the air as she lunged forward, her fingers grasping desperately at Alastor's piece on the gameboard. "Al! You can't just do whatever you want! You have to follow the rules!"

Alastor leaned back in his chair, a low chuckle leaving his lips as he regarded Charlie with amusement. "But my dear, where's the entertainment in that?" he purred as he tilted his head in mock innocence. "Rules are made to be broken, after all. So, I had a little fun with it."

"A little fun?" Vaggie scoffed from her spot on the floor, her brows furrowed in frustration as she idly shuffled the cards.

"Yeah, thanks a lot, dickhead," she muttered, her voice laced with irritation. "That's what you've been doing these past 2 hours. If you don't start playing properly, might as well not play. I mean—why did you even bother?"

"For the entertainment!" Alastor cheered, his grin widening as he rolled the dice once the turn landed on him again. With a flourish of his claws, he moved his piece three spaces, landing on an unclaimed building which he quickly purchased. "I came here because I love seeing you wayward souls struggle to accomplish something great, and fail spectacularly!"

Vaggie scoffed and rolled the dice, her hand deftly moving the piece along the board with a flick of her wrist. However, her expression soured noticeably when the piece landed on the Jail panel. She seethed and sank back, silently cursing her streak of horrible luck.

"Ah, like you are doing now!" Alastor smirked down at her like the asshole he was, punctuating his words with a clap of his hand. "Good job!"

Vaggie clenched her jaw tightly, her knuckles whitening as she lifted the board, readying herself to strike Alastor. However, before she could make her move, the door burst open, and Angel Dust rushed in with a gasp. He looked every bit disheveled, as if he had just run through all nine circles of hell.

Charlie's eyes lit up at the sight of him, and she lifted her hand, waving him over excitedly.

"Angel! Perfect timing. We need one more player for Monopurgatory," she exclaimed, gesturing excitedly towards the game board. With a gleeful expression, she plucked a piece from the board and held up a small metal figurine with a wide smile. "You can be the cupcake~!"

"Sorry, princess, I've got business," Angel huffed, brushing his hair back as he turned to Alastor. "Alright, freaks. We need to talk."

Alastor hummed, studying Angel with mild amusement. "My, my, such urgency," he remarked, his smile widening into a grin. "What's got you in such a hurry?"

"It's about Vox," Angel replied, pressing his hands flat against each other. "I need to speak with you in private."

Alastor's grin faded slightly, and he tilted his head, his eyes narrowing at Angel. Well, this was certainly getting very entertaining.

After a moment of contemplation, Alastor shook his head, snapping himself out of whatever daze he had briefly fallen into.

"Vox, you say?" Alastor mused, tapping his chin thoughtfully. With a nonchalant shrug, he pushed himself up, twirling his cane in the air. "Oh, well, in that case, let's chat."

With a flick of his wrist, Alastor moved forward and gestured towards the door, indicating for Angel to follow him. Charlie and Vaggie exchanged puzzled glances, but they remained silent, watching as both men left the room.

"You know, I'd usually never even think of entertaining you, and I'd rather let you deal with your own issues. But you seem to be in a great deal of suffering!” Alastor laughed heartily as he shut the door.

"So, pray tell, what happened? Did you get yourself entangled in another deal from a whim decision? My! I certainly hope you don't bring any of this into the hotel. What will the papers say?"

Angel rolled his eyes and cut Alastor's rambling short, jabbing a gloved finger into the Radio Demon's chest. "It ain't about me. And you're gonna want to listen because it's your missus that's in deep shit right now."

Alastor's eye twitched at the mention of you, a brief flicker of static and symbols dancing in the air. His crimson eyes bore into Angel Dust, his expression unreadable, save for the wide curl of his lips.

Inwardly, Angel smirked. If he didn't have Alastor's attention before, he sure as fuck had it now.

"What does my wife have to do with this?" Alastor quipped sharply, his claws delicately removing Angel Dust's finger from his chest. "I fail to see the connection. Do enlighten me."

"Wanna be enlightened?" Angel waved him over, "Then follow me."

Without waiting for a response, Angel turned on his heels and strode out of the hotel. Alastor followed closely behind, his red-clad figure cutting through the streets of hell like fire against the night.

A few streets later, they approached the border edge of the entertainment district, and Alastor halted abruptly, his gaze narrowing in suspicion.

"I don't particularly fancy this area, and I'd rather not enter," he scoffed, adjusting his coat and brushing away dust from his sleeves with a disdainful flick. "It's rather unsavory."

"Just look," Angel rolled his eyes, gesturing upwards towards the towering Vee tower, where a new advertisement had just been erected.

Alastor's gaze shifted upward, and he froze as he beheld your face plastered across the billboard, larger than life, dominating the skyline of the entertainment district. The vibrant colors of the advertisement clashed with the dark hues of the surrounding buildings, drawing attention like a beacon in the night. Beneath the image, in bold letters, was a sign that read: "Sponsored by VoxTek," stark against the backdrop of your image.

There was silence for a minute, then another, before a sharp crack split the air.

"Angel?" Alastor's chipper voice rang out as he stared up at the billboard with a manic grin. Crackling began to be heard as his limbs lengthened, each movement accompanied by the sound of bones shifting and sinewy muscles stretching beneath his ashen flesh.

"Would you be so kind as to…" His antlers began to grow in size, curling and twisting like the branches of a gnarled tree.

"—explain…" His eyes darkened, the whites turning to a deep, swirling black, while the pupils glowed with a golden light, resembling the flickering dials of an old radio.

"—what exactly am I looking at right now?" His hands elongated into grotesque claws, the fingers stretching and sharpening into razor-sharp blades capable of ripping flesh—or in this case, wires—with ease. As his claws extended, they stretched his glove to its limit until it tore right off, revealing the glint of his wedding ring.

"Vox got her soul," Angel replied immediately, his voice steady despite the horrifying sight in front of him. "Screens has her wrapped around his finger, and he's not planning to let go anytime soon."

Alastor's head snapped to the side with a sickening crack accompanying the movement.

"Show me," he snarled, his voice taking on an inhuman quality, heavily filtered by radio waves.

Without hesitation, Angel gestured towards the billboard, his expression blank.

"Get in there, and see for ya'self."

˚୨୧₊♱

[aventurineswife]

A touched starved reader who craves to experience physical intimacy with their partner/s but is too anxious to do so. How would their partner help them get more comfortable and deal with it? (Aventurine, Kazuha, Lumine, Dan heng, Veritas, and Kaveh together)

Touch Without Fear

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Kazuha x Reader, Lumine x Reader, Dan Heng x Reader, Ratio x Reader x Kaveh, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Emotional Vulnerability Gentle Reassurance, Touch-Starved Reader, Established Relationships (in some cases).

Warnings: Mild themes of anxiety and insecurity, Discussions of fear of intimacy and vulnerability, Reader's struggles with physical touch and emotional closeness, Safe, consensual exploration of boundaries and comfort zones.

Aventurine leaned back in his chair, his eyes scanning the dimly lit room, the weight of his thoughts hidden behind his ever-present smile. He had noticed the way you seemed to recoil whenever he brushed against you, the way you flinched at the slightest touch, as though something inside you held you back from embracing the intimacy he so naturally offered. You, the one who had always been so close, so real to him in ways no one else could comprehend—yet you were distant in a way he couldn't quite reach.

His hands tapped against the edge of his desk as he mulled over how best to approach you. Despite his reputation for manipulation, he understood your hesitation wasn't something to be bent to his will or simply willed away. It was a deep-seated fear, something that perhaps even your own mind couldn't fully articulate.

One evening, when the two of you found yourselves alone, his voice broke the silence. "You know," he said softly, though his tone remained laced with an amusement that masked his true feelings, "I've always been intrigued by how people manage their fears. Some run from them, others face them head-on. But you…" He paused, catching your eye. "You play it safe, don't you? Not that I blame you. But I wonder… what might happen if you just let go, just once?"

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, your gaze darting away. He could see the anxiety flicker in your eyes, but he didn’t press. Instead, he moved closer, his footsteps soundless on the polished floor, and placed a hand just barely on your shoulder, lingering for a moment before pulling back. "I'm not asking for you to let me in," he murmured, his words soft and patient. "I'm not asking for anything. I’m only offering you a chance to feel safe. To touch… without fear."

His presence was warm, inviting, and you could sense his sincerity beneath the layers of charm. His voice continued, this time quieter, more intimate. "Intimacy is not something you must rush. It's an experience, one to savor and trust. If you'd let me, I'd show you that there’s no pressure, no rush... just us, exploring at your pace." He held his breath, watching you closely for any sign of resistance or acceptance.

You hesitated, but this time, when his hand found your shoulder again, you didn’t pull away. Instead, you allowed him to gently guide your hand into his. His smile softened, genuine and warm. “One step at a time,” he whispered, “And if you ever feel overwhelmed, you only need to say so.”

With his guidance, he helped you confront your fears, his presence reassuring as he let you dictate the pace, giving you the space to explore the world of intimacy without the pressure of needing to be anything more than what you already were—together.

[Header credits]

Kazuha sat on the edge of the wooden railing, the gentle swaying of the ship beneath him mimicking the rhythm of his calm thoughts. The wind tousled his hair, and he took a deep breath, savoring the moment of peace. However, despite the tranquil setting, his mind kept returning to you. The way you looked at him, longing to be close, but always holding back, as if the desire for physical closeness was a yearning you couldn’t fully embrace.

It wasn’t as though you didn’t trust him. He knew that much. But there was something within you—a hesitance, a fear—that kept you from taking the leap. And Kazuha, ever the observant and gentle soul, noticed the way you would shy away from his hand when it lingered too long on your arm, how your heart rate quickened when he ventured too close. He knew it wasn’t that you didn’t want him—it was just that your own fears had built walls that were hard to climb.

One evening, as the crew settled down for a rare moment of rest, Kazuha approached you. His footsteps were quiet, deliberate, as he sat beside you, his presence like the calm after a storm. He didn’t force the issue or demand answers. Instead, his voice was soft, his words like the breeze that whispered through the trees. “You know,” he began, “there’s no rush. You don’t have to be in a hurry to figure everything out. Sometimes, the most beautiful things unfold naturally, in their own time.”

You turned your eyes to him, your shoulders tense. He could feel the hesitation in your movements, but he didn’t push you. Instead, he offered a gentle smile. “It’s okay to want closeness. But it’s also okay to take small steps. Let’s start with something simple. If you want, I can teach you how to be at peace with it, slowly. No expectations.”

Kazuha held out his hand, palm open, a simple gesture of invitation. He didn’t try to overwhelm you with grand promises of intimacy—he simply offered the quiet comfort of his touch, the warmth of a hand willing to wait. “There’s no pressure,” he reassured. “Only trust, and time.”

His fingers lightly brushed against yours, a fleeting touch, as though testing the waters. When you didn’t pull away, he gently intertwined his hand with yours, his thumb brushing along the back of your hand in small, comforting circles. His smile remained calm and patient, showing you that closeness didn’t have to be rushed, that intimacy could be built upon slow, steady moments of connection.

Through his tender approach, Kazuha helped you realize that it wasn’t the touch that you feared—it was the vulnerability. And with him, that vulnerability was met with nothing but warmth and patience. He would wait for as long as you needed, guiding you back to yourself, helping you rediscover the comfort in shared closeness, one gentle step at a time.

[Header credits]

Lumine had always been an enigma to you—a quiet, steady force, often hiding her true emotions behind a calm, collected demeanor. But you noticed, as your journey together continued, that there were times when she seemed to hesitate, just like you, when it came to expressing something more than friendship. Whether it was a hand resting too close, or a gaze lingering a bit too long, there was an unspoken tension between you, and yet, neither of you made a move. You, with your fears of intimacy, and she, with her quiet strength that belied her own uncertainties.

It was one evening, as the two of you found a quiet place by the river, that Lumine chose to address it. She had sensed your discomfort, the way you tensed when her hand brushed against yours or when you found yourself in close proximity. Rather than push or pull away, she simply sat beside you, her presence as calming as the cool breeze that drifted across the water.

"You seem... anxious," she said quietly, her voice soft but carrying the weight of understanding. She didn’t look at you directly at first, giving you space to process her words. “I can tell you want something more, but there's hesitation... something that holds you back.”

You felt a pang of embarrassment, unsure of how to respond, but she turned to you then, her eyes gentle. "It's okay," she reassured, her voice a soft whisper. "I understand. I’ve seen the way you long for closeness, but don’t know how to reach for it."

Her hand slowly reached out, hovering in front of you, as if giving you the choice. “If you want, we can take it slow. No rush. I don’t want to push you, but I also want you to know that you don’t have to be afraid. It’s okay to want more... and it’s okay to be unsure. I’m not going anywhere.”

There was a deep sincerity in her words, an openness that allowed you to feel safe in your vulnerability. Slowly, you reached out, your fingers brushing against hers. And as her hand gently closed around yours, Lumine offered a small, understanding smile. She didn’t need to say more. Her actions spoke volumes, reassuring you that this connection, this closeness, didn’t have to be rushed or forced. You didn’t have to be ready right now—what mattered was that you felt safe enough to start, with her by your side.

Lumine, too, was learning the rhythm of intimacy with you. And just like the ebb and flow of the tides, you knew that it would come, in its own time, when you were both ready to embrace it fully. Until then, she would stand by you, patiently guiding you toward the peace that came with letting go.

It had been a long day aboard the Astral Express, filled with turbulent space storms and stressful situations, but Dan Heng still found his thoughts drifting to you. He had noticed the subtle way you avoided close physical contact, the way your body tensed whenever he was near. He understood that the weight of unspoken things could make it difficult to open up. He never pushed you—he could see the discomfort written on your face each time you hesitated, pulling away from even the smallest gestures of affection.

But tonight, he had decided, was different.

The night sky through the window was peaceful, the stars softly glowing. Dan Heng found you sitting alone, eyes downcast, a little too quiet even for you. He stood by the doorway, just watching for a moment, before his soft voice broke the silence.

“You don’t have to be alone,” he said gently, his tone uncharacteristically warm. He had seen the way you ached for touch, but he also saw how nervous you were, how uncertain. It hurt him, but he had no intention of pushing you.

You looked up at him, and he slowly crossed the room, each step deliberate and cautious. When he reached you, he didn’t immediately reach for you; instead, he knelt down before you, lowering his gaze to meet yours.

“I can wait. I’m not going anywhere,” he reassured you. His hand hovered just inches from your own, waiting for your reaction. He wasn’t rushing. He wasn’t going to force anything.

You nodded, unsure, but desperate for the connection. Slowly, your fingers brushed his, and that was all it took. Dan Heng gave a small, knowing smile, his touch soft and steady as it slid into yours. He wasn’t someone who liked to speak about emotions, but in that quiet moment, his presence was more than words could say.

He didn’t pull away. He didn’t demand more. He simply stayed with you, offering the comfort of his quiet, constant companionship. The warmth of his hand in yours felt like the safe harbor you so desperately needed.

“Whenever you’re ready, we can take the next step,” he murmured. “There’s no need to rush. Just… let me be here.”

And so, together in the quiet, you began to understand that intimacy, true intimacy, was not something to be feared—it was something to be built slowly, carefully, and with trust. And Dan Heng was willing to help you take that step, at your pace.

Kaveh had noticed the way you flinched at even the slightest touch—how your hands pulled back when he reached for you, how your eyes darted away from the warmth of a hug, the soft intimacy that others might take for granted. It made his heart ache for you, but he knew better than to push. He had always believed that love was something to be nurtured with care, not rushed or demanded.

“I’m here, you know,” Kaveh murmured, sitting beside you, his voice full of understanding. His hand reached out, hovering in the air as if seeking permission. “You don’t have to be afraid to want this. I won’t rush you.”

Ratio, always the more analytical of the two, observed the scene from a distance, his eyes watching intently. He wasn’t one for unnecessary displays of affection, but he understood that your need for physical intimacy went beyond mere desire—it was a longing for reassurance. He too had seen how you yearned for closeness but were too scared to take that first step.

Ratio’s voice broke into the silence. “You fear being vulnerable. It’s understandable, but you must understand this: vulnerability is strength, not weakness.” His words were sharp, but there was an undercurrent of sincerity to them, a rare softness that only you could see. “We won’t judge you. We’re both here for you, and we’ll take our time. No expectations.”

Kaveh, always the compassionate one, leaned closer, his hand gently resting on yours. “I know it’s hard,” he said with a small, affectionate smile. “But you’re not alone in this. I promise you. We’ll make sure you’re comfortable.”

Your heart raced, but instead of pulling away, you allowed yourself to lean into the warmth of Kaveh’s presence. You felt the soothing calm of Ratio’s understanding gaze, and it eased the tension that had been building in your chest.

Kaveh’s hand slid gently into yours, his fingers intertwining with yours. “Whenever you’re ready to take the next step, I’ll be here. We’ll all be here.”

Ratio added, his voice softer than usual, “Intimacy doesn’t need to be rushed, nor should it be forced. It’s something to be discovered at your own pace.”

With them by your side, you felt a small glimmer of hope. You didn’t have to move faster than you were comfortable with. With Kaveh’s patience and Ratio’s calming wisdom, you could begin to find a way to embrace that longing for touch, piece by piece, with the understanding that you weren’t alone in it.

The two of them, each in their own way, showed you that intimacy wasn’t a race. It was a journey, and with them, you could take it at your own pace, in your own time.

[cheapshrimpysheep]

Hiii congrats on 1k followers!! I've really liked your writing for a while, it's so lovely to read <3 I hope you don't mind me requesting something, if it's okay :D

What if the reader also has a tsum? Then their tsum and the tsum of the person they like keep giving signs that they like each other, like for example Riddle tsum is very affectionate to the reader, but they don't want to admit it and get flustered. If that's okay, can I request that with Riddle, Azul, Jamil, and Silver?

COMMENTS: Hi! Thank you. I'm so glad you enjoy it. 😊

I really liked your idea a lot. I was even excited to write it. I know that on the Japanese server there was already a second event with Azultsum, but I didn't see anything about the story, I only read the vignette of Azul's card to have an idea of what to write. I still have a little difficulty writing for Silver, but I try my best to understand him.

I hope you and all enjoy it 🩵

CHARACTERS: Riddle Rosehearts; Azul Ashengrotto; Jamil Viper & Silver

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader

WORD COUNT: An average of 450 words per character.

.

With your Tsum in your arms, you find Ace and Deuce, leaning over with their hands on their knees as if they were catching their breath after a run. They look at you first, but quickly the cute little creature you hold in your arms catches their attention. They both have that look on their faces like they think it's the cutest and most beautiful little thing in the world but don't want to admit it.

They say that Riddle also has one of those and he was the one they were chasing and trying to catch, but they lost it. The moment they said Riddle’s name, you felt your Tsum move enthusiastically for a moment.

They hear something, when they look they see Riddletsum in the distance and run towards it, starting the chase again. Your Tsum jumps out of your arms and runs with them, which makes you run after them too.

Your Tsum passes Ace and Deuce, which surprises them because they were so fast, and throws itself at Riddletsum, rolling together for a few seconds until they both stop. When this happened, Riddletsum didn't run away again, and the two were rubbing each other's cheeks happily.

Ace grabbed Riddletsum while it was distracted. It seemed upset about being caught. But the moment Deuce grabbed your Tsum, Riddletsum jumped out of Ace's arms, hits him in the face and threw itself right in Deuce's face to make him release your Tsum. Once back on the ground, Riddletsum positioned itself between your Tsum and those two. Glaring threateningly at Ace and Deuce.

You were the only one who could carry your Tsum without Riddletsum getting jealous. And after that, they would keep your two Tsums together to prevent Riddletsum from running away again or causing trouble. Or hurt someone else.

Whenever Riddle sees the Tsums being all lovey-dovey with each other, he will blush, and try to hide it. He won't comment on it unless you comment first. If you tell him they're cute, he'll shyly agree.

“You know, they remind me of the hedgehogs in a way.” Riddle says “I can't deny that I think it's cute whenever I see them rubbing their noses against each other.”

And as soon as the Tsums hear him say that, they rub their little round noses against each other. Which makes Riddle blush even more.

If at any point you pick up Riddletsum, it will look at you with a huge sparkle in its eyes as if you were the most wonderful person he has ever seen in its life. And freeze looking at you.

You went to Mostro Lounge with your Tsum because you heard that Azul also had one, and you thought maybe you could help each other take care of them. Which in itself is already a deal. You help me, I help you.

Little did you know that the place was full of customers, and much more than usual. When you arrive at the entrance, there is a line of customers still waiting to enter. You comment to your Tsum that perhaps it would be better for you two to give up on the idea of meeting Azul, at least at that moment, he must be too busy.

Your Tsum starts struggling in your arms until it manages to escape them and run into the Mostro Lounge, passing by the feet of all those customers. You try to run after it, but a hand grabs you on your arm shortly after you pass the entrance.

“HEY! What do you think you're doing jumping the queue?” A Savanaclaw student asked you aggressively.

“Probably exercising their right as VIP customers.” Azul says, in that politely threatening way. “And I suggest you let them go if you don't want to be permanently kicked out of the Mostro Lounge.” The student let go of you. And Azul sees you rubbing the area where he had grabbed you, as if you had been hurt. “An apology would also be polite.” The Savanaclaw student is reluctant out of pride. “You know, I'm not a big fan of doing business with rude customers. And this clause is usually part of my contracts. It's a shame that a lot of people don't read them in full, you know.” Azul smirks.

The student suddenly looks worried, and apologizes to you and promises that it won't happen again.

Once this problem is resolved, Azul greets you with that charming smile of his and asks what he owes for your pleasant visit? Were you there to see Azul Tsum too? You answer yes and tell him about your Tsum and what happened.

And then you start to hear a different kind of commuting in one part of the café. In the middle of the "Aw"s, you also hear phrases like “Double the cuteness.” and “They look even cuter together.”

Azul and you try to get closer to the place that is receiving all the attention, but it appears to be moving. And towards the VIP room. You arrive at the VIP Room door and only see the door closing, as if someone had just entered. Azul opens the door and you go in with him.

You see your two Tsums on one of the sofas. When Azul Tsum realizes that it was you two who entered, it relaxes and starts to cuddle and snuggle with your Tsum as if spoiling it with love and care. Azul automatically blushes.

From then on, Azultsum won't let go of your Tsum! It practically forgot the customers and only had eyes and gifts for your Tsum. As if it were Azultsum's most valuable treasure.

If at any point you pick up Azultsum, it will first look at you with a big shine in its eyes and then it will come close to your face to caress you.

You went to Scarabia with your Tsum because you heard that Jamil also had one, and you thought maybe you could help each other take care of them. But you didn't know where exactly they were. At least not until you hear Kalim apologizing to someone and saying he wasn't going to do something.

You arrive at the lounge with your Tsum in your arms, and you see Kalim apologizing to Jamiltsum while Jamil enjoys the scene.

“Not even if it has half the animals?” Kalim asks. Jamiltsum jumps up and hits him on the arm. “AH! Fine, fine! No parades this week...” He looked a little disappointed but Jamil was smiling.

Some students who enjoyed Kalim's parades began to comment about being disappointed too. Jamiltsum turned towards them with a threatening aura, which scared them. However, it seemed more stressed than upset.

You feel your Tsum jump out of your arms and see it running towards them. It stops near them and makes a cute little noise as if it is greeting them and to get their attention. Jamil looks at your Tsum with a twinkle in his eyes, like someone who thinks it's cute in a way he doesn't want to admit. Now Kalim...

“OH Great Seven! It's a (Y/N)tsum!” He crouches down to get closer to your Tsum “You're so cuteee! This definitely deserves a party!” POW! Jamiltsum throws itself at Kalim again, this time making him lose his balance and fall.

When it lands in front of your Tsum, it looks upset, but as soon as it looks at your Tsum, it freezes with amazement in its eyes. Your Tsum starts snuggling against it, and Jamiltsum reciprocated by cuddling it back.

A student comments that they look cute together, that they even seem in love with each other. Because of this, both Jamil and Jamiltsum blush. Jamil pulls his hood to hide his face, while Jamiltsum curls up, and your Tsum gets even closer to it, both because it thinks it's cute and to try to help it hide.

When your Tsum is around, Jamiltsum is more easily flattered. Jamiltsum won't let go of your Tsum either. Like Jamil it acts like a bodyguard, and that's exactly what it does with your Tsum. To the point where you start to doubt whether it's really Jamiltsum being overprotective or just jealous whenever someone approaches and starts saying how cute your Tsum is.

If at any point you pick up Jamiltsum, it will first look at you with a big shine in its eyes, but then it’s little face will get all red, and it’ll curl up trying to hide it.

You were passing through the Courtyard with your Tsum in your arms, when you see a larger than normal amount of birds and squirrels in a particular tree. You get closer and see Silver sleeping against the tree with a Silvertsum in his arms, also sleeping.

You feel your Tsum moving and jumping out of your arms. It approaches them and climbs into Silver's lap to get closer to Silvertsum, which wakes Silver up. He looks at his lap and sees your Tsum looking at him and smiling with its eyes. He smiled, that rare sweet prince charming smile of his.

“Hello little one. It's good to meet you.” He caressed your Tsum's cheek with his finger. “You are as beautiful as (Y/N).”

You make noise through the grass and bushes as you approach them. Silver looks at you in surprise, and blushes slightly at the thought that you could have heard what he had just said. And meanwhile, your Tsum catches up with Silvertsum who jumps off Silver's lap because it woke up with a start.

Silvertsum landed in a defensive position and with a threatening expression, as if its first instinct was to assume its position as a guard during an attack. But soon after it sees your Tsum and has a serene expression again.

Your Tsum is the one who approaches first and starts cuddling with the other. Silvertsum quickly reciprocates with its eyes closed as if they were both smiling. The birdsong becomes louder around you, but it is still a beautiful song.

“They seem to like each other a lot.” He comments, now with his usual neutral face. “Do you think it means something?”

You probably felt like doing a face palm, and the same seemed to have happened with your Tsum. It suddenly took a big jump into Silver's arms and climbed up to his face to caress his cheek. While Silvertsum remained serenely on the ground.

Silver chuckles and smile. “So you like me too?” he asks your Tsum, who nods with it's little body.

And to your surprise, Silvertsum also jumps into your arms. It will try to get closer to your face but it won't move very far, as if it wanted your permission to move forward. If you push it close to your face it will rub its little nose against yours.

Be careful, because Silvertsum easily falls asleep in your arms as it is so comfortable in them.

If you dropped in here out of the blue and want to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[angellesword]

Love Is Not Black and White, It's Purple (Like Your Eyes) | JJK (oneshot)

Summary: You and Jungkook are not soulmates. The fact that you have been married for ten years but still see in black and white proves that.

It is never an issue for you two until…

"Jungkook, my eyes… they're purple."

Jungkook's heart stops.

You can see colors now. It only means one thing:

You have met your real soulmate, and it's not Jungkook.

Genre & Content Warning: soulmate au, housemate au, mention of murder, past child abuse, domestic violence, fluff, crack treated seriously, attempt at humor, marriage au, established relationship, kissing, blind!jimin, fashion designer!taehyung, alcohol, cursing, HAPPY ENDING. (tags are just for formalities, but tbh this fic isn't heavy at all)

Pairing: Detective!Jungkook x Fashion Designer! Female Reader

Word Count: 7.5k

****

Out of all the suicide methods in history, Jungkook thinks that if he were to try one, it would still not be as effective as listening to you talk.

"Jungkook, my eyes...they're purple."

Really. You don't need a plastic bag, a rope, or a pillow to suffocate Jungkook. With your harsh words, Jungkook could feel the air leaving his lungs.

He can't breathe. The terrible realization asphyxiates him: you--his best friend--his wife, can now see colors. For a moment, Jungkook doesn't know what to make out of the fact that he's now alone in this monochromatic world—a place where people see in black and white until they look into their soulmates' eyes.

Jungkook has looked and drowned in your calamitous eyes before, but he never saw hues.

"Jungkook...?" 

Distantly, Jungkook hears you utter his name, but all he can grasp is the thought of you abandoning him. Jungkook is rarely wrong. He's a detective, after all. One word, and he can deduce the situation, making this whole ordeal more painful.

"That's..." Jungkook intends to hide his hurt, but he feels his voice getting choked up. He has no choice but to pause.

However, you are thrilled to hear what he has to say, so Jungkook forces himself to continue.

"...great. Yes, that’s great. So great!" Perhaps repeating the same words can convince him that his statement is true. It's not. Jungkook's heart breaks when you beam at him.

Calm down. Jungkook tells himself. But he can't. Everything hurts. His heart, his soul, his words.

"So, tell me. Where's the divorce paper? Should I sign now?" Jungkook's words hurt like a knife. They cut your heart into pieces. 

"What the fuck are you talking about." Your face falls. "Shitty Jungkook, are you kidding me right now!? I'm not leaving you for someone I just met!"

Now, something about your reaction takes Jungkook's breath away. Maybe it's the anger that quickly turns into panic as you take in Jungkook's words. Or perhaps it's the apparent trembling of your lips as you desperately speak of your promise of forever. Either way, your fear-inducing expression somehow reassures Jungkook.

You and him are not over. Not yet, at least. 

"I'm just kidding~." Jungkook chuckles and clicks his tongue, "Of course, you're not leaving me. I'm the only one who can tolerate you, ya know?"

The joke doesn't lighten your expression at all.

"Jungkook, I'm not leaving you," you repeat. The assurance is softer this time, and despite the lack of color in your eyes, the detective can see determination in them.

Jungkook puffs out air. His heart aching a little less.

"I know, darling." Jungkook stops his jokes. He engulfs you in a warm embrace. "I'm sorry."

"Don't say that ever again." You wrap your arms around Jungkook's waist. "You're my best friend. I love you, alright?"

****

10 Years Ago; 2013

Unlike others, your relationship with Jungkook is reversed.

"Let's get married."

"The fuck?" You choke on your water the second Jungkook opens his mouth. "Are you high again, bastard!?"

You punch Jungkook mildly. The latter moves away, exaggeratedly cradling his jaw. "Ow! Why are you always so violent? Can't you hear me out first? I'm being serious here!"

"Serious?" You laugh incredulously. "You just asked me to get married!"

"Exactly!" Jungkook ignores the painful thug in his heart. "It's for our benefit. Didn't you say you want to live in PM Village?"

Apartments in PM Village are too damn expensive. You and Jungkook recently finished college; your individual income is not enough to cover the monthly amortization of a house, but it's different if your incomes are combined.

"You're crazy. We can't marry because of a fucking house, Jungkook!" You are still not convinced.

"Why not?" But Jungkook intends to change your mind. "We're both single, and divorce won't be difficult in the future. We can just tell the court we've found our real soulmates. Besides,"

The newbie detective drags his words, knowing that he'll be able to convince you in the end, anyway. "You're gonna be rich soon. You don't have any living family members anymore. Do you really wanna give away all your money to the government when you die?"

"Why? Is giving my money to you any better!?"

"I can at least maintain your wine cellar," Jungkook shrugs. "And just think about the tax benefits! Don’t you hate Hoseok-hyung for siphoning your money?”

You open your mouth to speak, but damn. Jungkook’s last statement has convinced you already. Nose flaring, you say, "Fine!"

It's like music to Jungkook's ears. "I need your full confirmation."

Jungkook really wants you to say it. You fold your arms across your chest, "Fine, Bastard! I agree with your absurd proposition. Let's get fucking married."

At the age of twenty-two, you and Jungkook tied the knot. Ten years later, most of Jungkook's predictions have come true: you two have settled in PM Village—a warm home with a wine cellar awaits you after a tiring day. You have also become so rich that you often have issues with Jung Hoseok, your country's tax agency commissioner. Thank heavens there are good lawyers out there to clear your tax cases. 

You clearly have everything life can offer. If you want, you can divorce Jungkook now, but ten years later, you are still very much committed to your best friend.

*****

Present; 2023

You insist on telling Jungkook who your soulmate is. Admittedly, you can tell that Jungkook finds the whole storytelling unnecessary. You are married, but it's not as if you two are in love with each other or something. Nope. Jungkook only sees you as an annoying woman with whom he cohabitates.

"So, has Technology asked you on a date yet?" Jungkook asks without looking at you. He's busy filing his nails, acting as if shaping his nails into perfect ovals is more important than conversing with you.

"First of all, his name is Taehyung. Not Technology, you asshole. And no, he hasn't asked me out." You exhale. "I mean, not yet. It's not a big deal, honestly. We just met yesterday." 

Translation: give my soulmate some time.

"Right." Jungkook mocks and yawns, finally glancing at you. "You know, if I meet my soulmate, I’ll immediately ask them out. I can’t waste time.”

"Oh, shut up." You roll your eyes. "We both know you just can't wait to sleep with them."

"He-He. You caught me~." Jungkook half-smiles before returning to the previous topic very smoothly, "So you're saying that if Techno—Taehyung asks you on a date, you'll say yes?"

"Will you mind if I do?" You sound nervous.

The sole purpose of this conversation is for you to test the waters with Jungkook. You both went on dates in the past after ensuring that the other was comfortable with the set-up. You are married, after all. It won't bode well with the both of you if cheating rumors erupt, especially in your respective workplaces.

Admittedly, it has been long since you two last went on dates. You were both busy with your jobs. Besides, isn't it exhausting getting to know strangers? Jungkook doesn't want to waste his breath on nosy people asking why he chose to be a detective, and you would rather ditch your date than deal with them bargaining for discounts once they find out you’re a prominent fashion designer.

Going out with strangers has become a nightmare instead of a fun way to meet your real soulmate. Because of this, you and Jungkook decided to just take each other out whenever you wanted. It's not exactly a romantic date. Sure, there's darling as a pet name, kisses under the moonlight, and wrestling who'll pay. But that's about it. You don't dare to do more.

Your partnership is of greater importance than sex and in-the-moment confessions. You don't want to regret it comes morning.

"Why would I mind?" Jungkook finally answers, feigning happiness. "I'll personally thank your soulmate for taking you out, honestly. I'm tired of you forcing me to take you out on dates. It's about time I meet new people, too."

"Right." You swallow your disappointment and the faint ache in your chest. "Who wants to go out with a shitty bastard like you, anyway? Go meet others! It's not like I care!"

Another fake smile blooms on Jungkook's face.

"Whatever you say."

*****

Kim Taehyung is the name of your soulmate, and the man Jungwon has been investigating for the past three days.

"Jungkook-sunbaenim, here's all the information I can find about Kim Taehyung." Jungwon stifles a yawn as he approaches his mentor's table. He almost winces upon seeing Jungkook's monitor.

The older detective has many tabs on his computer, all related to Kim Taehyung.

"You're still investigating him?" Jungwon can't mask his surprise. "Jungkook-sunbaenim, just what did Kim Taehyung do!?"

"He's a thief, Jungwon-ah." Jungkook accepts the files from his mentee without sparing him a glance

Jungwon dramatically gasps, his sleepiness fading away because of the scandalous information.

"Really? What did he steal?"

"A precious little thing." Jungkook is viewing Kim Taehyung's baby photos. No one knows how he found them. "Look, he's not that cute, right?"

Jungwon doesn't answer, lost in thought. What could Kim Taehyung have stolen? His Jungkook sunbaenim said a precious little thing. Could it be a diamond ring? Or...

"Tanzanite?" Jungwon shrieks. "Did he steal tanzanite, Jungkook-sunbaenim!?"

"Huh?" Jungkook turns to his mentee with a furrowed brow. He suddenly remembers what he said to Jungwon, and being a good actor whose words consist of 10% truth and 90% lies, Jungkook can save himself by saying, "Yeah. He stole tanzanite —authorities said it was very expensive. Come, Jungwon-ah. Let's catch this thief."

****

You aren't lying when you say you won't divorce Jungkook because you 'met' your soulmate. No, your partnership is beyond colors. However, it also doesn't mean you’ll relinquish your connection with your soulmate.

The deal is this: You and Jungkook will stay together until you know your soulmates better. After that, you two can decide what to do next. In short, a simple meeting doesn't guarantee you would want to spend your entire life with your soulmates. You both have heard many stories before that not even real soulmates find romantic love with each other—some remain platonic soulmates, while others go as far as killing each other.

You and Taehyung's case seems to fall to the normal expectation of society: meet as strangers, get to know each other until you become friends, then fall in love and get married.

Unlike Jungkook pulling you in a reverse direction, Taehyung intends to drive you on the right path.

"Jungkook-sunbaenim, aren't we breaking the protocol?" Jungwon covers his face with a newspaper, whispering softly in case the suspect hears him. They are currently inside a small coffee shop near Aurora Fashion Lane. Based on Jungwon's investigation, Kim Taehyung works as a designer for the company in the same building as this coffee shop. In fact, Taehyung is slowly becoming a regular customer here.

"Shouldn't we call for backup?" 

Jungkook ignores the younger detective. He squints his eyes hard, focusing on the table near the counter. Jungwon discreetly looks in the direction Jungkook has his eyes on. A woman with a similar haircut as yours is sitting there.

"Jungkook-sunbaenim, isn't that your wife—"

"Ssshh, Jungwon-ah. Shut up for a moment. I can't hear them." Jungkook regrets not choosing a table near you and your date. Damn it. You probably won't realize he's here—not when your attention is focused on stupid Technology!

"Stay here. I'll be back." The older detective stands up abruptly. Right. If he pretends to look at the menu before ordering something, he can hear whatever you and Taehyung are talking about:

"Exactly. They should've added another layer of lace. It pairs well with jacquard." Jungkook hears you say.

What the heck are they talking about? The detective muses.

"Ah, unfortunately, the customer hates laces. Apparently, her father made her wear laces that itch." Taehyung responds.

"Poor Elise. I understand why she prefers satin dresses."

Are they talking about work? Jungkook thinks to himself again. He only snaps back to reality when the cashier smiles, asking if he's ready to order.

Jungkook orders drinks for him and Jungwon before moving closer to the soulmates' table. You and Taehyung have stopped talking, though. Confused, Jungkook tilts his head to check what's happening, but someone seizes his wrist.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Jungkook hears a classic greeting, yet he still freezes. Only one person gets angry seeing him.

"Oh, hi, dearest wife~. I didn't see you there." The detective beams while prying his hand away from your iron-like grip. "What a coincidence!"

"Coincidence, my ass!" You grit your teeth, "Tell me the truth. Why are you here?"

Jungkook tongues the inside of his cheek, thinking of a way to translate, 'You were smiling through your phone yesterday while texting your stupid soulmate. I didn't want to invade your privacy, so I hacked his messages instead,' into something that won't ignite your anger.

In the end, Jungkook manages to simply say, "Why? Can't a detective have his coffee?"

"Jungkook." you utter sternly, "This coffee shop is an hour and a half from your workplace. You also don't drink coffee."

As if on cue, the barista says Jungkook's drinks are ready. The detective picks up his drink and sips it. "What was that? I can't hear you over my delicious caramel macchiato with whipped cream and seven pumps of caramel sauce, topped with small marshmallows, chocolate chips, and sprinkles!"

"For fuck's sake!" You let out a torrent of abuse, your face morphing into disgust. Seeing color intensifies your emotions. The colorful toppings in Jungkook's drink make you want to vomit. "Get your ass out of here, you tasteless bastard!"

Jungkook doesn't budge. He shoots you an innocent look, "Why are you shooing me away? Am I disturbing you and your date? Where is he, by the way?"

Taehyung went to the comfort room, but this was not the point. You hiss, "I'm not on a date. Taehyung and I are discussing work over coffee. How the heck did you even know we're here?"

Another question Jungkook doesn't have a ready answer. Fortunately for him, Taehyung is back. Your furious expression melts at once. Your fake personality makes Jungkook gag.

"Hey, should we head back?" Taehyung's voice is deep. This is the first thing Jungkook notices.

"Yeah, let's go." You smile at your soulmate.

Another thing Jungkook notices is how handsy Taehyung is. He touches the small of your back, leading you to the exit. Jungkook's expression darkens, and Jungwon, watching the whole exchange like a hawk, suddenly decides to act.

"Stop, you thief! Leave my mentor's wife alone!" Jungwon has the handcuffs ready. He's rushing in Taehyung's direction. Jungkook's eyes widen, only relying on his fast reflexes to stop his mentee.

He trips Jungwon, causing the younger detective to fall to the ground.

"Jungkook, you bastard--!!"

All hell breaks loose after that scream coming out of you.

****

'Disaster' is the only word to describe Jungkook's attempt to stalk his wife. He didn't plan for things to escalate to the level where he had to trip Jungwon to stop him from arresting an innocent citizen like Taehyung. You got so mad that the older detective had to apologize, making an excuse that they were detectives on a mission gone wrong. Jungkook remembers smiling apologetically at Taehyung, telling him to cut Jungwon some slack because he is a newbie detective.

You knew everything leaving Jungkook's mouth was bullshit, yet you played along with Jungkook's excuse. You clearly don’t want the issue to escalate further. Thankfully, Taehyung is an understanding man, telling Jungwon to be careful next time. You aren't as forgiving as your soulmate, though. You called Jungkook over the phone, yelling you'd kill him if he went home tonight.

Jungkook has no choice but to seek shelter at Namjoon’s house.

"Let me guess," Namjoon sighs upon seeing Jungkook at his doorstep. "You've angered your wife again, didn't you?"

"Namjoon-hyung! That's a mean guess. Can't I visit my friend?"

Namjoon remains expressionless. "You only go here whenever you and your wife fight. Your wife will think I betrayed her if I let you in."

Jungkook hmphed. "My wife already has beef with your soulmate and, by extension, with you too. So just let me in, will you?"

Namjoon releases a breath when Jungkook pushes the door open and rushes in. He is right, anyway. You have beef with his soulmate. Namjoon always receives texts from you complaining about Hoseok and how ruthless he is as a government employee.

"Would you like something to drink—" Namjoon cuts himself off upon seeing Jungkook helping himself with a bottle of soju.

The detective takes large gulps. He finishes half of the bottle in less than two minutes. Jungkook hiccups and clumsily wipes his mouth, "My wife found her soulmate. She can see colors now."

Namjoon stops in his tracks.

Jungkook laughs, mocking himself. "His eyes are purple, hyung."

"Jungkook..." Namjoon sounds apologetic.

"What's with your expression?" Jungkook’s lips twist. "You look sorry. Don't be. I'm—"

Happy for her? Jungkook shakes his head. It seems like that's not the case. Namjoon thinks so, too. He sits in front of the detective.

"You're what, Jungkook-ah?" The older man opens a beer bottle for himself, "What do you feel for your wife? What does she make you feel?"

Silence creeps into the room.

Jungkook's shoulders drop. Memories from the past play in his head as he closes his eyes.

Twenty-one years ago, 2002:

11-year-old Jungkook is freezing cold.

He is out in the snow, trying to take a sneak peek at children his age playing on the school grounds. Unlike him, the students are covered with expensive coats, mittens, and a hat. Jungkook's mother is a janitress at a private elementary school in Busan. Sadly, she can't afford to send her son to this school, so Jungkook can only watch the other kids in envy.

The children here have winter camps and activities to support their growth. Today, Jungkook watches as the students make mittens. Some children give the handmade gloves to their family, friends, or teachers.

Only one girl saves her mittens for a lone stranger.

"Here," Jungkook is taken aback when a girl his age suddenly approaches him. She’s shorter than Jungkook, but her determined eyes make people think she has much to offer. 

"I said here!" Jungkook remains unmoving, so the girl pushes the mittens to his chest. "I can't see it yet, but my mum said the gloves are gray like my eyes! I made them myself."

The little girl looks proud; a huge grin is on her lips.

Jungkook blinks dumbly at her, "Why...." He takes in a deep breath, clutching the warm gloves to his chest. "Why are you giving me these gloves?"

The little girl looks confused; she even lets out a small huh. Jungkook thinks the girl didn't hear him, so he repeats his words.

You are that little girl. You shrug your shoulders. "Because I want to. You look cold. I don't want to see you cold."

"But," Jungkook's lips tremble. He is having a hard time accepting the gift. "I have nothing to trade you with."

"Who cares?" You sit beside him. "I don't want anything. I just want to be friends."

Present; 2023:

Until now, Jungkook has no idea why you wish to be friends with someone like him. Clearly, you were a world apart. It was winter then. Maybe it was a Winter miracle—if this is even a thing.

But Jungkook is sure of one thing:

"She makes me feel warm, Namjoon-hyung." The detective finally answers his friend's question earlier. "My wife makes me warm, loved, and hopeful."

****

You receive a text message from Namjoon asking you to pick up a hammered Jungkook.

"Hey, you're leaving already?" Taehyung sees you leaving the office.

You rub the back of your neck and smile softly at Taehyung, "Yes. I have to pick up my husband."

"Ah." Taehyung nods, "Jungkook, isn't it? The detective from earlier?"

"Mn. I'm really sorry about what happened."

"It's nothing," Taehyung assures. It will probably take him a long time to forget his encounter with those two strange detectives, but it's not so bad. They apologized and said it was an honest mistake. He motions toward the door, "You brought your car, right? Let’s go down together.”

“You’re going home too?”

“Not yet.” Taehyung opens the office door for his soulmate. “Just gonna get coffee.”

Taehyung’s obsession with caffeine doesn’t go unnoticed by you. Taehyung joined your team only this week but has probably gone to the coffee shop downstairs more than your team did.

You brush it off. It’s none of your business. What matters to you is what Jungkook drinks. After bidding Taehyung goodbye, you immediately rush to Namjoon’s house. He is absolutely right. Jungkook is wasted.

"Why did you let this asshole drink so much!?" You bare your teeth at Namjoon. "You know how he is, Namjoon! Did he even eat before chugging down soju? Soju! You made him drink soju!? Namjoon, you golden-eyed clumsy bastard! Your eye color looks like horse piss!"

You are getting creative with your insults now that you can see colors. Namjoon shakes his head. He likes you better when you still see in black and white; at least then, you don’t go around terrorizing people and their eye color.

"I'm sorry. He forced himself into my home." Namjoon throws Jungkook under the bus. He'd rather get a playfully upset Jungkook than a screaming girl like you.

You know better than to put all the blame on Namjoon, though. You know Jungkook drank himself stupid because he can't handle it when you are genuinely mad at him.

You swallow your fury, "You know what? Just…have a good night, Namjoon-oppa. I'm sorry for shouting and the trouble. I'll make it up to you some other time."

You drag Jungkook to your car.

The detective is no fun when drunk. He just passes out. You can't even get blackmail material out of this hell.

"Fucking finally." You cover your husband with a blanket after cleaning him up and changing his clothes into new ones.

"Bastard." You sneer but still end up softly kissing Jungkook's forehead.

Ah. The things you do for love.

****

Jungkook wakes up with a stomachache and a sweaty forehead. He dramatically whines, cradling his stomach like he has been shot there.

Thankfully, you show up at once. You are carrying a tray with a full meal.

"My stomach hurts." He complains, earning an eye roll from you.

"Of course it does. You fucking drank alcohol on an empty stomach. You also had that stupid drink at the coffee shop. Just what the hell are you thinking?"

You sit on the bed. You first brush your husband's fringe with your fingers, then cup his cheeks and casually wipe the side of his mouth.

"Here, eat something."

Jungkook doesn't need to tell you to feed him. You bring a spoonful of food to his mouth, gently urging him to eat.

The detective moans. Your food tastes like heaven, even better than those Michelin restaurants. "My wife is such a great cook. Thank you~~"

"Whatever. Just don't moan, bastard." You can feel your cheeks turning hot. You easily get flustered with compliments.

Jungkook suddenly wonders if Taehyung has said something to make you blush, too.

"Oi, Jungkook. Don't tell me you don't have an appetite anymore. You barely ate!"

It's not like the detective doesn't want to eat anymore. His mood only plummets when he thinks about your soulmate.

Jungkook utters your name softly and asks, "Are you happy?"

"What kind of question is that?" You scrunch your nose, but you still answer. "Of course I'm happy." I have you in my life.

"No. I mean, are you happy you can see colors now?"

"I'm happier." You are surprised at how quickly you answered. Maybe because it's never difficult for you to tell the truth. But still...you don't want to sound insensitive. You know your husband has yet to see colors.

You try again, "I mean...seeing colors makes my job easier, and I’m not just saying this because I'm getting promoted soon." People in your world have a greater chance of success once they see colors. 

"I guess I appreciate my job even more. It makes me feel alive, if you will. Things seem "livelier..."

You look into Jungkook's brown eyes. You can see them sparkling. For the first time in twenty-plus years you have known Jungkook, this is the only time you have seen how pink his lips are.

You can feel your heart thumping.

Looking at Jungkook with colors makes you feel "More." You whisper, "I feel things more with colors, Jungkook."

More love.

More joy.

And more clarity about what you really feel about your best friend.

"That's good, then." Jungkook rests his head on your shoulders. "I'm glad you're happy."

He really is. If he can go back to last night, Jungkook won't hesitate to tell Namjoon that, even though it hurts him, he's glad you met the one fated to you.

*****

Months passed, and things get even better for you. You got promoted twice and you now handle one of your company's major customers. Your wallet gets fatter—so shouting at Namjoon to tell Hoseok to calm down doesn’t work anymore. Your free time is almost non-existent, though. It makes Jungkook sigh.

“Hey, Jungkook. You’re free to go.” Jungkook’s mood soars when his partner at work approaches him.

“Yoongi-hyung!” Jungkook’s jaw drops to the floor. “Did I hear you right? Are you seriously allowing me to get off work an hour earlier!?”

Yoongi is a hardworking detective who does not joke around since he knows his job affects the public's general welfare. Still, he also knows that you and Jungkook are celebrating your anniversary as a married couple for ten years.

“Just go, Jungkook-ah.” Yoongi pushes him. “Just leave before I change my mind. And for heaven’s sake, get your wife anything but flowers. No one wants to see you sneezing all day. Keep your snots away--!!”

Jungkook walks faster, not wanting to hear his work partner complain. So what if he sneezes all day? So what if he’s allergic to flowers? You love flowers, so he’ll get you bouquets.

Humming, Jungkook makes his way to the flower shop. The snowflakes fall lightly. It’s winter. Jungkook met you in the winter of 2002. You also got married in winter, the year 2013. Other people don’t like this season, especially Hoseok, who watched Namjoon suffer a fall accident because of slippery ground three years ago. Thank goodness Namjoon is okay now.

Jungkook buys flowers and your favorite wine. He’s almost home when a ghost from the past blocks his way.

“Oh, if it isn’t the beloved scoundrel of my bitch of a soulmate.”

Jungkook stiffens, eyes turning dark as he takes in the lone figure of his father.

“Jeon Sungmin.” Jungkook’s tone is scathing.

“The one and only.” Sungmin juts his chin. “Did you miss me, son?”

“Don’t call me that.” Jungkook clenches his fist. Unadulterated anger fills his heart. He’s trying hard not to punch this pathetic man. “In case you forgot, I still have a restraining order against you. I can even arrest you myself.”

Sungmin lets out a sardonic laugh. It’s loud—the kind of laughter that makes Jungkook’s skin itch. He can’t see colors but could’ve sworn he sees blood. Maybe he just wants to claim blood.

“Don’t act so tough on me, boy. In case you forgot, you just stood like a dumb bastard when I killed your bitch of a mom.”

“Stop.” Jungkook chokes, feeling a lump forming in his throat. He can’t breathe. Memories have come to haunt him.

“Scared, aren’t we?” Sungmin drags his limping feet to Jungkook. Twenty years in prison broke his body but not his soul. Even with only his tattered clothes and one functioning eye, Sungmin can still bring terror to his son.

“You should be. You’re nothing but a pathetic scourge.” Sungmin pulls Jungkook’s collar, slamming him into a cold wall. “Now be of use and give me money.”

Jungkook doesn’t move. His eyes droop, wanting to puke as he feels his father stealing his wallet. He hears screams inside his head, the pleas of his mother. Jungkook-ah, run. Please. You have to save yourself. 

Jungkook remains rooted in his spot back then, just hollowly looking at the blood on the floor. He watched as Sungmin smashed the baseball bat into his mother’s head.

More screams. Sungmin didn’t stop the beating until the police officers came.

Twenty years later, Jungkook is still the same. He still can’t stand up for himself. He watches his father take his wine and wallet, leaving like nothing happened.

Jungkook doesn’t know how he manages to walk back home. He stays outside, ruined flowers in his lap. He cannot get in as his keys are inside his stolen wallet.

Jungkook could only wait for a purple-eyed girl whose eyes he thought were gray.

****

Like Jungkook, you get off work early as well. Your secretary runs after you, saying that you can’t leave yet. However, you dismissed the secretary and passed the work on to Yeonjun instead. You hate that you are not home yet. You are actually supposed to take the day off to plan your anniversary date with your husband better.

It’s your 10th anniversary, after all. You are thinking of cooking Jungkook’s favorite food and giving him a…body massage. Many things are running into your mind—you can’t wait to try them all with your husband. Too bad work is holding you back.

“Sunbaenim, what do you think about this color combination? Is the shade of blue too dark for this winter’s theme?” Yeji excitedly shows off her design.

You rub your neck roughly, stopping yourself from throwing profanities. Calm down. Yeji is a hardworking designer who only wants the best for the team.

“I’m thinking of using an aqua frost instead. One shoulder sleeve should do the trick if—”

Oh my God. ‘Someone, please kill me now.’ You scream internally.

“Yeji,” you press your lips into a thin line. “I actually can’t entertain you right now. Would you mind checking in with Taehyung instead?”

Yeji’s shoulders drop. “Ah, Taehyung-sunbaenim isn’t here at the moment.”

“What do you mean he’s not here?” You feel your head pulsating. “Where is he?”

Everyone is so busy. Taehyung can’t possibly skip work, right?

“He’s at the coffee shop downstairs.”

That son of a--!!

You stand up abruptly. Taehyung’s coffee break ended an hour ago! How can he still be at the coffee shop!? You are seething in anger. You know Taehyung is your soulmate, but you can’t just connect to him. The first few months are okay. However, you soon realize how incompatible you and Taehyung are. Your connection starts with colors, and it also ends there. Nothing more, nothing less.

“I’m going to call him.” You exit, ignoring Yeji’s call. Honestly, what you said is half lie and half-truth. You just really, really want to leave the office. It’s a pure happenstance to bump into Taehyung in the elevator.

“Hey.” He calls your name. Remnants of joy are still visible on Taehyung’s face. Two coffee holders are in his hands—he got the whole team some drinks. “I got coffee. Where’re you going?”

“Home.” You press the elevator button. “It’s my husband and I’s anniversary.”

“Ah.” Taehyung nods in understanding. He never once shows any sign of disappointment over his soulmate spending time with another person. “Didn’t you say Detective Jeon likes eating sweets? Jimin-hyung baked a chocolate cake today. Will you accept it as my anniversary gift for you two?”

You pause. It’s like your brain short-circuits upon noticing Taehyung’s expression when he utters Jimin’s name.

Jimin—the barista and baker at the coffee shop where Taehyung frequents.

“Taehyung,” your heart stutters. “D-Do you remember your first day in the office?”

“Of course.” Taehyung offers a small smile. “It’s hard to forget that day, don’t you think? We both saw colors for the first time.”

You blink at him, not saying anything.

Taehyung avoids eye contact, thinking he’s not smart enough to understand what you implied. He tries to remember every detail of that day.

“I think I came to the office ten minutes earlier. I got everyone coffee. Come to think of it, Jimin-hyung actually saved me that day. He knows everyone’s order—Hey, are you alright?”

“You…” You gasp. “You met with Jimin before seeing me at the office, right?”

“Yes?” Taehyung’s hands are getting clammy for grasping the coffee holders. It doesn’t help that you are acting weird, making him more anxious.

“Taehyung, I think there’s been a glitch.”

****

Yeji goes after you a few minutes later. Both of you and Jimin are taking too long. Luckily, she instantly spots you at the elevator door. You look agitated, while Taehyung seems dumbfounded.

“Sunbaenim!” Yeji tries to stop you two, but you and Taehyung have already gotten inside the lift.

“Yeji, there you are.” Taehyung passes the coffee holders to Yeji. “Drink this with the others. We’ll be taking another break. See you later.”

“Wait—!!”

The elevator door closes.

Yeji whines, “I still have to show you my designs….”

****

You rush home, excited to see your husband. However, your excitement quickly turns into horror when you spot Jungkook sitting on your porch.

“Jungkook!?” Your eyes dilate. Jungkook is staring into nothingness. You are familiar with this kind of expression, the kind where you are forced to swallow your insults because you know. 

You know something terrible happened to your husband.

You quickly open the door and pull Jungkook to his feet. The detective is still unresponsive, letting you drag him into the bathroom. You did all the work; you immediately opened the heater and got warm clothes.

“Kook,” you call softly, cradling Jungkook’s hands to blow on them. “ Can you lift your arms for me? Let’s get you changed, alright?”

Jungkook doesn’t answer but does what he’s told. You are shaking as you help your husband change. You want to give the detective warm water and candies, but Jungkook still looks shaken. You can only gently drag him to bed. You lay down beside Jungkook, hugging him close to your chest.

You didn’t ask any questions, allowing Jungkook to breathe first.

“I--” Jungkook hiccups, sounding broken. He weakly grips the hem of your shirt.

“I’m here, Darling.” You kiss your husband’s forehead. You hug him even tighter, wishing to melt your body and bones and offer all your warmth and love to Jungkook.

Jungkook calls your name, his voice almost sounding like a wounded animal.

You caress your partner’s cheeks. They’re wet. It takes everything in you to pick up the pieces of your broken heart. No. You can’t fall apart now. Jungkook needs you.

“Mn. I’m here. You can tell me what you want.”

“N-No.” Jungkook whimpers, “I don’t want anything. I—I don’t deserve anything.”

“Jungkook.” You break the hug and force Jungkook to sit up on the bed. He’s warm enough. He’ll live.

The detective cast his gaze down, though—an indication he doesn’t want to hear whatever you have to say.

It pisses you off.

“Jungkook. Look at me.” You demand sternly. But Jungkook shakes his head.

“No, you’re mad at me.”

“Heck yeah, I’m mad. I’m so mad I can punch your face right now.” You have been patient with him, believing he’s vulnerable and in need of space. But your heart is only soft for a sad Jungkook, not for a Jungkook who blabs stupid things.

Jungkook balls his hands into fists, “You don’t understand. It’s so noisy in here.” He points at his head, “They won’t shut up. I’m—he….”

Jungkook gasps for air. You panic. You rub Jungkook’s back.

“Jungkook,” the saddest thing in this world is not seeing colors; it’s watching your beloved deal with the pain while you sit there pathetically, unable to take even a fraction of his hurt.

What good is a soulmate when all it can bring is color? Why can’t you take away Jungkook’s pain?

“He’s back, my father is out of jail.” Jungkook grips the bedsheet, “He’s come back for me. He hurt her before. He always takes away the people I love.”

Trauma is a part of Jungkook; napping silently and with one wrong shake, it’ll wake up and wreak havoc.

“You should run. Leave me. I don’t have a use to you, anyway—”

“Hush,” you can’t bear to listen anymore. You pull Jungkook to your chest, but the detective struggles.

“Please. You have to listen to me! Just leave! We’re not soulmates. I don’t understand why you’re still here!" Jungkook pushes your chest, but you catch his hands, burying Jungkook’s face into your neck.

“Oh, ma moitié.” The French endearment sounds easy coming out of your mouth. Jungkook melts at once. He sobs against your skin.

Ma moitié translates to my other half.

Jungkook wants to curse this unfair world. That’s right. How can you and him not be each other’s other half? It’s difficult to fight for you when fate is against you two. Sometimes Jungkook feels like no one has the right to tear you apart, mainly because you two paint each other's life—not with colors but with love. You and Jungkook are soulmates by heart. Many people call you twin black. The monochromatic world doesn't rob the two of you of happiness, love, and care. It takes one Jeon Jungkook to know that you like drinking cold water, not just 'cold water.' It has to be a certain degree of coldness:

If the water sits in the refrigerator for two hours, that's not cold enough. If it's water coming from a semi-solid ice cube, then that's too cold. 

You are fussy, but you give your effort to Jungkook similarly. Whenever you pick Jungkook up from work, you never fail to put your expensive leather jacket on the passenger seat, so Jungkook wouldn't have to deal with a burning hot seat. You don’t mind being stuck in the traffic and driving for hours to pick him up at work every day.

“Why can’t you be mine?” Jungkook doesn’t have the energy to push you away. His hatred is directed toward fate, himself, and his deranged father. Why are they against you and him being together?

“But I’m already yours, Kook.” You lick Jungkook’s tears and kiss his eyes. “Everything about me belongs to you. This,”

You guide Jungkook’s hands to your eyes, lips, and neck, then you lower Jungkook’s hands to your heart. You let the detective feel your beating heart.

“You hear that, Kook?” Your eyes well up with tears. “That’s my heart telling you something.”

Goosebumps prick at Jungkook’s skin.

You do not break eye contact. “I love you, Jungkook.”

You have said those words countless times before, but it doesn’t fail to take Jungkook’s breath away—especially now that the I love you is said so softly…so romantically.

“You’re my soulmate, Jungkook.”

Jungkook flinches, shaking his head rapidly.

“T-That can’t be. You…you see colors. I don’t. We’re—we’re….”

Why are you lying? Why are you giving Jungkook false hope? It’s cruel.

But you are insistent.

“Jungkook,” you kiss him. “Stop thinking for a while, yeah? Focus on me. Focus on my heart. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Jungkook answers against your lips. He never responded before, simply allowing and relishing the taste of your sweet lips.

“I love you so much,” Jungkook repeats, groaning and biting your lips until it draws blood. Jungkook had never allowed himself to possess before, scared that he would end up ruining what he loved. But today is different. You are addicting. Claiming he loves you gives him so much power--

He pushes you to bed, pressing himself on top of you.

Jungkook kisses you. “I love you. I love you. I really, really love you.”

 --so much happiness.

“I love you.”

--so much color.

Jungkook stops kissing you; his head spins.

--so much color.

Color.

The monochromatic world is slowly changing.

Color.

More colors.

Jungkook’s eyes grow wide.

He looks at you under him.

He gasps and calls your name. Your name sounds like a prayer coming out of Jungkook’s mouth.

“Your eyes…they’re purple.”

You chuckle under him. You wipe Jungkook’s tears.

“Took you long enough to realize, Kook.”

Jungkook laughs hysterically. He stares into your eyes again, ensuring he’s not dreaming or going crazing.

Your eyes are really purple—not gray.

At this very moment, Jungkook realizes something: out of all the suicide methods in history, Jungkook thinks that if he were to try one, it still wouldn’t work because seeing the purple in your eyes will bring him back to life.

Really. No amount of oxygen can compare to the image of you lying on your bed, purple eyes glistening as you whisper sweet nothings to your soulmate. With that, Jungkook feels he can finally breathe.

****

Meanwhile, on Aurora Fashion Lane, Taehyung runs toward the coffee shop. The conversation he had with you at the elevator rings inside his mind.

There has been a glitch.

That’s right. Taehyung remembers that day like the back of his hand.

It’s 6:23am. He went to a coffee shop looking so composed, but he’s actually very nervous. However, the presence of the barista calms him down.

“You’re new here, aren’t you?” Jimin, the barista, asks. A soft smile adores his pretty face.

Taehyung feels his heart skipping a beat. He licks his lips, “You can tell?”

“You smell different.”

“Really.” Taehyung feels blood rushing to his face.

Jimin laughs. “Don’t be conscious. I said you smell different, not bad. I can tell because I’m blind. My other senses are heightened because of it.”

“Ah.” Taehyung is fascinated. Jimin prepares coffee like a pro. He won’t know Jimin can’t see if he didn’t say it.

“This one is for your head designer; she likes her coffee with some liquor. I sneak some little candies onto her tray so she can bring them home to Detective Jeon, her husband.” Jimin pushes a coffee cup to Taehyung.

“This one is for Yeji. She prefers iced coffee even when it’s freezing cold. This one is for Ji-Eun. She likes tea and not coffee. Yeonjun never changes his order. It’s always two shots of espresso. Jake drinks anything, as long as it’s not too bitter. And this,”

Jimin smiles, “Is for you. A bulgogi sandwich and iced latte. The sandwich is not spicy, so you don’t need to worry. Have a good day.”

Taehyung feels like floating in the air when he goes to work. He first sees you at the door, looking so pensive early in the morning.

You are thinking about your husband. His birthday is coming soon. You want to give him something precious.

A wristwatch? Nah. That’s too simple.

A perfume? Nope. You prefer it when he smells like you.

What about a picnic date near the sea? You can arrange for a firework display and…

Confess.

You flinch at your own thought.

Confess.

You want to confess to Jungkook because---

--you love him.

“Good morning.” Taehyung greets.

You are startled. You snap your head up to meet Taehyung’s face.

All of a sudden, a splash of colors welcomes you.

You see colors, and so does Taehyung.

“So yeah, I think there’s been a glitch.” Taehyung tries to explain to an expressionless Jimin. He swallows when the barista doesn’t answer.

Taehyung releases a deep sigh. Right. He probably sounds crazy right now. It’s not cool to suddenly barge at someone’s work and announce that you think the barista is your soulmate.

Taehyung scolds himself. He’s about to apologize and tell Jimin to ignore what he said when—

“I know,” Jimin responds.

Taehyung blinks up at him dumbly.

Jimin’s lips twist, “Didn’t I tell you I’m blind?”

What’s his blindness got to do with anything? Taehyung still likes him.

“Taehyung, I’m blind.” He repeats. “I’ve been blind since I was born. When I dream, I don’t dream visually, but.”

There’s a sudden pause. Jimin looks lost in thought.

He continues after a while, “The night before I met you, I dreamt of you. I saw a man who told me I was his soulmate. You two have the same voice, and here…” Jimin brings out his sketch pad and finally shows it to Taehyung.

“I draw the face of the man in my dream. Does it look like you?”

Taehyung gasps dramatically because, my gosh. Jimin has perfectly drawn his face!

“This is really me…I’m your soulmate, Jimin.” Taehyung stutters a breath. His heart beats fast.

Jimin chuckles softly, and then he touches Taehyung’s eyes. “Yes, you told me in my dream, too. I’m just waiting for you to realize it in real life.”

The thing about soulmates is it’s complex. Researchers even claim there are different universes, all of which have the concept of soulmates. Some hear the thoughts of their soulmates in their heads. Some are immortals and will only die if they do the act with their soulmates. And then comes their world, a monochromatic place where you’ll see colors once you look at your soulmate’s eyes.

But it’s not that simple. Sometimes, you have to free yourself from your own judgment first. Sometimes, you must be honest first; sometimes, you just have to wait.

****

Accept this fic while I take my time writing my ongoing JJK series here.

This is originally a soukoku fic I've written before. If you prefer that version, click here. I've converted it into a JJK x reader because it was requested by an anon here. If there are obvious mistakes in pronouns and such, please tell me because as said, this is originally a fic for a different fandom and it used to be a mxm pairing. I may have missed some things while editing it.

I've written the same concept of soulmate ft. JJK years ago. It's a series which you can read here.

I appreciate comments the most! If you have suggestions about addtional tw, please don't hesitate to message me. Thank you ~~

[i23kazu]

♡ GENSHIN MEN & STUDYING WITH YOU

characters. xiao diluc kaeya childe wriothesley lyney alhaitham x gn!reader genre. romantic fluff. an. i need motivation. they are my motivation | please reblog!! im getting back into writing and reblogs with tags and comments will make me want to write more :D

xiao

he's the one who's a all the noise-cancellation, blacklisted apps kind of student. everything is on lockdown and on do not disturb mode – please don't disturb him. poke him with your pen and you'll just see him roll his eyes at you– no, seriously- it's not worth it! however, xiao is also a really good student ; always on task, even on the subjects that he absolutely despises. ask him to tutor you and he might grumble and groan, but what happens when the tutor falls in love with his student?

diluc

possibly the class rep. studying with him is a express ticket to resources that teachers had given him because of his high-class status. he's not proud of it – he believes that each student deserves the chance to have the same access as him – which is why he's willing to share it with you as well. we didn't even have to meet up, you could just have sent it over- you whine, but the tinge of crimson on his cheeks is a telltale sign that perhaps he needed- no, wanted, this excuse.

kaeya

the teasy study buddy. watch him annoy the hell out of you– you know he's teasing, but sometimes it hurts. "haha, i thought i taught you this already? does the little bunny not have enough space in there?" he taps your head with his pen. it's only when your face crumples and you start to mumble out apologies, teardrops cockling your paper – that he panics. "shit- i'm sorry– how can i make it better?" he wipes your tears away. he makes it up with a sweet kiss and a stack of gift cards to your favourite cafes.

childe

he's the friend who keeps you going, truly. if sunshine was bottled up and wrapped with a bow and had an orange cap, it would be childe! watching your face fall after staring at algebra simply won't do, no, no. let him lead you as he tugs on your hands outside of the study room, and just let your feet follow in his footsteps – you'll find yourself outside the library cafe. "alright, it's on me! what do you want?" maybe his wallet is a little lighter, but so is his heart, once he sees your face light up.

wriothesley

wriothesley is the one who has it all planned out. first, you'll start studying at 10pm... which is a little late, but it's alright. you'll get tired around midnight, which will be when he offers you the first cup of chamomile. "won't this put me to sleep?" you whine, accepting it from him anyways. he chuckles and runs his hands through your hair, replying that it's never worked on him. true enough, you start getting sleepy around half past one – finally leaning against his shoulder, your arms going slack. kissing your head, he drapes a blanket around you. good night, (y/n).

lyney

the one who sits besides you, cracking jokes every now and then! but when it's time to study, he can buckle down and start doing work –that's just lyney – the human on and off switch. there's something about him doing work while twirling his poker cards in his hands that's just so mesmerising – a stare too long catches his eye, and he starts doing a trick for you. get back to work!, you laugh and playfully swat his shoulder, turning back to your own paper. he chuckles in return, and unbeknownst to you, turns back with a smile.

alhaitham

alhaitham can be stricter as a study buddy – he's stern with distractions, wanting you to keep your phone to the side as he's explaining concepts – yes, concepts you learnt, but never understood. "hey, eyes here. did you understand, or do i need to go through it again?" he sounds bored, and you feel sorry for him. you mumble a soft i understand back, and he sighs and tells you to take a break. "look up." your eyes trail up from your phone, and instinctively close as he presses a sweet kiss to your forehead.

taglist: @tiredsleep @loptido @raincxtter @chichikoi @ladyadii @soulsanta @sheiiths @genshinparty @eowinthetraveler @moonbyunniee @legitnoi @lemontum @manager-of-the-pudding-bank @starz222 @ilyuu @cherry-colored-petals @mondaymelon @tartaglia-apologist @soleillunne @m1shapanda @aimynx @smokipoki @adeptuscharm @diorlumx @vennnnn-diagram @ryuryuryuyurboat @yuminako @st0pthatsgay @aqualesha @sixtynintharchon @supernova25 @kunikuda-simp @starglitterz @rin-nyrasti-writes @mxyarylla (send ask/comment to be added to taglist)

reblogs w/ tags & comments help me lots !!! if you liked this, consider dropping me a follow as well :-)

[solifloris]

≡;-꒰ 𝑿𝑨𝑽𝑰𝑬𝑹 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I  𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒇𝒖𝒍

╰┈➤ ❝ xavier x afab!reader | smut nsfw 18+ mdni

tags : softdom!xavier, reader has negative thoughts, implications of depression (not explicitly stated/mentioned), implication of self-harm (scars) (not detailed), slight arguing (ish), cuddling, praise and reassurance, kissing and making out, nipple play, slight clit play, fingering, soft and lazy foreplay, use of pet names "angel" "princess", lmk if i missed any tags !! ((slightly unedited))

note : the depiction of depression in this work does not mean to generalize; please keep in mind that different people can experience depression very differently!

wc : 6.1k

youtiful masterlist | works masterlist

You blew your hair out of your face as you walked quietly, your footsteps moving slow as you climbed the staircase of your apartment complex. Your hand was loosely holding the upper arm opposite to it, and you sighed.

You couldn't even practice your own profession without making things harder for everyone.

You bit back a grimace recalling the low-level Wanderer that you had even barely managed to kill—how embarrassing! Sure, maybe it had been particularly difficult for you to get proper sleep, and, sure, maybe it had been just as hard for you to find your appetite enough to eat as much as you should be eating—

But the point still stood.

You were supposed to be an accomplished Hunter, and yet, here you were, walking home with wound marks from a Wanderer that most beginners could easily defeat.

If Jenna and the rest of the team knew...

You shook your head.

They shouldn't know...

You grimly moved your thumb over the sensor of your door lock, when your ears picked up the sound of light footsteps.

It was as if by instinct that you whipped your head around almost immediately, and when your eyes fell upon a set of very familiar blue ones, you almost felt yourself shrink back.

Xavier.

"...Oh," was all he said for a moment, stopping a few feet away from you, tilting his head to the side. You knew that look; he was observing you. He had obviously found the situation odd, obviously found something wrong and out of place with it, and you weren't particularly surprised—Xavier was always observant.

But you let your arms drop to the side, pulling down your sleeves to the tips of your fingers, and unfortunately, you couldn't help yourself from being a little awkward.

"Um... Hi?" You supplied, attempting a crooked smile.

Xavier didn't reply for a moment, and the silence made your heart beat uncomfortably in your chest.

And then,

"You didn't answer," he spoke, finally.

When you gave him a confused look, he gestured towards the pocket of your jeans, where he always knew your phone was.

You winced.

"Oh... Right... Sorry. I, uh? I was kind of busy..."

Your gaze fell to the ground.

"...Okay," Xavier spoke again after a while, but you heard him take a step forward. "I was worried, so I came down to check."

Another pause—

"What were you busy with?"

Your heart thrummed loudly in your chest, and you still refused to look up at him, in fear of making your lie all the more easier for him to dismiss: "Just a little morning outing with Tara!" You tried your best to sound a little energetic.

"So.... You're okay?"

You could feel his eyes boring right into you, and he took another few steps forward until you could see the tips of his shoes from where you stood looking at the ground.

"...Yeah..."

By some magnetic force, your were drawn to look up almost meekly into his eyes, and you knew instantly that it was a giveaway. You faltered when your gazes met; Xavier's eyes were always so impossibly blue that you could never bring yourself to look away once you'd started.

"...Hey... Are you sure?" You watched a small frown grace his features then, and perhaps, it was what triggered what seemed to be a pre-programmed response to any sign of disapproval.

You put up your best smile, and nodded your head. "Yeah! I'm fine! Great, even!"

"But... The way you're standing—"

Xavier reached out as if to grab your arm, but your eyes widened.

You quickly twisted away.

Feeling your heart beat faster, you turned to unlock your door, already taking a step inside. "Nothing's wrong!" You insisted, still smiling cheerfully at him. "I'm feeling absolutely peachy! Just a normal day out! Just, you know. Socializing can get tiring sometimes, right? I'll just, um, get some rest before the banquet later—"

Xavier was observant.

He was always observant.

You knew this, and yet, you had clearly underestimated it.

"...Your blouse..." He murmured, still frowning slightly as his gaze shifted to your collar. It was upturned, and you'd missed a button. Your breath hitched in your throat when you realized that he could easily piece things together from this if you let him study you any longer.

In a rush, you reached over to fix your blous, and then looked back up at him with a nervous laugh. You put your arms in front of you to wave them with denial. "Don't mind it! I, uh... I didn't notice. I must've looked silly all day, haha...!"

And then you noticed your next mistake.

Xavier's eyes slowly traveled lower, and you gasped as you realized that your blouse had ridden up with your sudden movements, exposing a cut on your waist from the Wanderer that you had been fighting. There was no hiding it now, even as you cleared your throat and hurriedly pulled and straightened your shirt.

"You're hurt."

It was a simple statement, and the soft concern in his voice made you exhale slowly.

No, you thought, not now, Xavier...

"I-it's just a little cut. I can deal with it! I know how to treat my own wounds—"

"But you always treat my wounds."

That frown again.

Your mouth went dry.

"...Yes, but... This is... This is different, I'm fine, it's just... Just one cut..."

This time, Xavier's frown deepened, and he didn't say anything else. Instead, he pulled you in through your own door, into your own appartment, and pointed directly towards the couch—

"Sit down."

You chewed on your bottom lip, watching as he walked further into the unit and into your bathroom.

His voice was cold.

It was one you hadn't heard quite often; one he only used when he was... serious. And most notably, one he used more often with other people than yourself.

Your heart sank.

I've really done it this time... you thought, sitting down neevously on your couch and folding your hands neatly onto your lap. You chewed on the inside of your bottom lip.

Your thoughts were going a mile a minute—he was upset, he was angry. He was going to come back out of there and scold you and tell you off, and you could easily have a fight right then and there because you were so needlessly incompetent—

Footsteps.

The door shut.

Xavier knew your apartment like the back of his hand, having been over so often, that it didn't take long for him to find what he was looking for—a few moments, and he emerged from the bathroom holding your familiar first-aid kit.

You felt meek as he walked over, footsteps heavier than usual, getting on his knees in front of you... But he didn't say a single word. He remained silent even as he lifted up your blouse, respectful enough not to lift it unnecessarily high, only just enough to expose your cut. It's kind of him, you thought, the simple action easing your nerves slightly. Despite the fact that you had been intimate several times before, he would still respect your space—even if he was obviously displeased in the moment.

But displeased, he was.

There was tension, and it was undeniable.

Your heart continued to beat rapidly in your chest, feeling small as he treated your wound.

"...It's our day off," he spoke curtly then.

Ah, you thought, now he's addressing the lie I told him...

"...Yeah..." you whispered quietly.

"Jenna knows we have the banquet later on."

"...i know..."

Xavier looked up, frowning, and you bit your lip at the iciness in his stare. "You know, and yet you went out and got yourself hurt."

"Th- there was a wanderer—"

"And you decided you could take it on your own, is that it?"

"B-but I did! It's gone now, and I—"

"It's gone, and you're injured. On. Your. Day. Off."

You swallow down a protest, your lips quivering slightly. You didn't know anymore, if it was the sting from the disinfectant that brought tears to your eyes, or this unusually cold demeanor that you were witnessing from him.

Or, you thought grimly, perhaps it was both.

But it was almost as if Xavier did not notice as he cleaned up your wound, reaching into the kit to bandage it. He kept a solemn, expressionless face, and the silence was loud. Uncomfortable.

"...Xavier..." Your voice came out as barely a whisper, and then he shifted to turn completely to the kit, almost as if rummaging through it.

"I'll need to take off your shirt," he spoke somewhat matter-of-factly, but he still refused to look up at you.

"...H- huh?"

"How many wounds do you have?"

You gulped. "...Just... just this one..."

Another silence.

He paused, and you almost wished that the ground would swallow you whole.

And yet still, again, was the kindness from his usual gentle nature—because he still asked for your permission. He knew well that you never took of your top completely in front of him, always preferring it on even on nights he would make love to you.

...But something told you that he wouldn't be entirely happy to let it go in this moment.

You faltered when he turned his head.

"Don't lie to me."

He narrowed his eyes.

It was a simple statement, and a valid one—you had indeed been lying to him, since the moment he'd caught you in the hallway. And yes, you deserved chastisement for it. Of course you did! When was it ever a good thing to lie so much to your partner? To avoid them and their care? You knew you were being pathetic and he had every right to be upset with you, but—

You swallowed down the lump in your throat, feeling tears prick at your eyes again.

"...Don't..." you pleaded, your voice small. You closed your eyes, bowing your head and moving to draw your knees up to your chest, withdrawing into a closed position. "Don't be like this, Xavier, please... Y- you're scaring me..."

Another apprehensive silence followed after your words, and you felt yourself shiver.

But in the next second, Xavier sighed.

There was a shift in weight on the couch as he sat beside you, and then his hands reached over to rest on top of yours. His touch this time was warm. Gentle. A stark contrast to his earlier treatment.

"...I'm sorry, angel," he murmured. The use of his nickname for you made your heart skip a beat, and he rubbed soft circles over the back of your hand. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that, I just... Look at me? Please?"

In response, you loosened your hold over your knees, and grip his hand tightly in yours. After a moment, you raised your hed with a pout, your eyes glistening with tears that threatened to spill. But his gaze was soft again—so gentle and loving like you had always known it to be.

"...'M just worried, angel," he whispered, continuing the soft, comforting strokes over your hand. "I... You promised me last time that you wouldn't be reckless, and, angel... You've been so distant lately..."

You watched as his eyes softened into a look of sadness, and your lips quivered.

"I... want you to honor your promise, that's all. These days... In our missions, you've become less cautious, more reckless... More involved with work and more distant with me and with everyone, and I just—I worry about you, angel. I... I don't understand what's going on, and just now, I let my emotions get the better of me, and I... I shouldn't have. I'm sorry."

His apology came out chopped, a little uncertain around the edges, as if he couldn't find the right words to truly say to you. But his voice remained quiet and soothing, no longer as cold and icy as it had been moments ago.

"Talk to me?" he pleaded. "Please, angel?"

And you figured that you should.

This was Xavier, after all—your boyfriend, and the most loving person that you had ever known. You owed him an explanation.

...But your heart remained heavily set in your chest.

You were hesitant.

"I... I don't know how..." You managed to get out, swallowing thickly once more.

Xavier's eyes were so blue, so bright, so kind as he looked at you.

Your gaze dropped back down to your knees.

"...I don't know how to do anything anymore," you whispered. "Even if I tried to explain it to you, I wouldn't know what to say, it's just... It's so much easier to ignore, to pretend like these feelings don't exist."

"What feelings, angel?" You felt his hand squeeze yours in a manner of reassurance, but you shook your head.

"Bad ones," you mumbled, "negative ones. And if I don't keep myself busy, then I can't ignore them. I'll think too much. Then if I think too much, it... it might happen again..."

Your chest felt heavy as you spoke, even as Xavier comfortingly held your hand, even as you knew that he was listening to you with every intention to guide you through... whatever this was.

But you really didn't know how to continue anymore.

How could you say anything when you couldn't understand it yourself?

You felt so... pathetic.

"Angel?" Xavier murmured, lacing your fingers together. "What... might happen?"

For a while, you didn't speak; you didn't move.

And Xaver did not pressure you.

He stayed silent right along with you, rubbing into the palm of your hand, his gaze on you so full of love and concern that it almost made you cry.

So you closed your eyes and pulled your hand away from him. You told yourself that maybe it would be easier if they stayed closed, and you slowly unbuttoned your blouse, shrugging it off of your shoulders. You didn't want to see his reaction... But you knew what he could see, on your skin, now.

There were a few cuts on your shoulder from your fight with the Wanderer, smaller and less concerning than the one on your waist. But as you slid your sleeves down lower to your wrists and shrug it off completely... he'd be seeing more scars. Patterned, and much too neatly placed, to be a result of careless fighting.

"Angel..." you heard him breathe out, a mixture of shock, disbelief, and sorrow.

And only then did you open your eyes, meekly searching for his.

"...I— I haven't done it in weeks!" Damage control. "I'm clean, right now, but... If I don't— If I don't work, I don't— I don't know—"

Before you could break down in tears again, Xavier gently pulled you into his arms, sighing into your hair. "If you don't work, you won't have anything to distract yourself with?" he whispered softly.

You closed your eyes at his warmth, and you nod.

"But... Can I ask you why?"

It was this question that got you to tense up, enough for him to notice.

"I want to help, princess," he looked softly into your eyes as he pulled back slightly, reaching up to brush the hair out of your face. "But... I need to know how. Would you let me? Could you... Tell me? Is that okay?"

The mere fact that he wanted to help made you want to sob.

He was so... nice to you.

So kind, so patient—

You didn't deserve it.

You felt tears well up in your eyes once more, and you screwed your eyes shut, shaking your head. "'M sorry," you choked out, and Xavier immediately held you close.

"No, princess... I'm sorry. I should be the one apologizing. I should have known... I shouldn't have gotten upset at you..."

Tears slid down your face, and you buried your face into his chest. His words churned at your stomach with a heavy feeling you didn't know how to describe. "That's not true," you whimpered. "It's... It's me. I'm always a burden... Always having to make you worry, when you've been trying your best to take care of yourself but I can't even keep a simple promise—"

You began to sob into his sweater. "Why, Xavier? I feel... I feel so worthless. How could I deserve you? How could I deserve anything you give me? And how... How could I be so selfish to want more of it?" You grip him tightly, almost digging into the back of his sweater as everything begins to pour out. "It feels... It feels as if no matter what I do... Nothing ever makes me any worthier of your love. Of anyone's."

And Xavier listened.

He didn't interrupt you, didn't speak—

He listened.

He placed his hand over your back, rubbing softly into your exposed skin, letting you speak until his consistent motions helped you relax slightly in his hold. And after a few moments of your sniffling, he gently peeled you away, before bringing you in for a soft, quick kiss.

Your eyes, blurred with tears, looked up at him confused.

"Nothing can change the way I feel about you, angel," he murmured sweetly. "You do deserve everything, and even more than that. You've done nothing wrong, princess. Don't apologize to me. I worry about you because I want to worry about you... Because I choose to worry about you." He softly placed a hand on your cheek. "Do you remember what I told you? I meant it when I said that. You are special to me. And I want to do everything in my power to protect you, to keep you by my side... to make sure you're okay. I'm sorry that I was so cold to you earlier. I'll be a better source of comfort for you now, I... I'm here, angel. I won't leave."

You remained sniffling as he spoke, and your eyes slowly drifted back down to your lap.

But you found the courage to speak.

"The banquet..." you whispered. "I... I don't want to go."

"Then don't. We don't have to."

"But... But Tara, and Jenna—"

"They won't mind, we won't be the only ones not going, right?"

You looked up, uncertain still. "...And you?"

"Me?"

"You... you said you wanted to go..."

At this, Xavier's eyes softened, and a gentle smile played at his lips. "Well... We could tell them I wouldn't let you leave me... And it wouldn't totally be a lie."

When your gaze had yet to relax, he shook his head with a little laugh. "It's less about the place and the activities... and more about the person you do them with. Remember?" He tucked your hair behind your ear and whispered softly, reassuringly. "Whatever we do, wherever we go, I'll want to be there. Because you would be with me. So if you want to go to the banquet, then I'd want to go to the banquet. But if you want to spend the night here, then I would also want nothing more."

You sniffled again, tears streaming down your cheeks as you felt your chest burst with warmth.

You truly felt so... loved. So seen, so heard, so understood—he was right; you should have gone to him for comfort when all of this had started, instead of trying to distance yourself from everyone you loved.

Xavier reached over to wipe your tears away with the pad of his thumb.

"Shh, don't cry angel..."

And then he leaned down to kiss you, nice and slow, and so soft, and loving. His lips moved delicately; nothing like the passionate kisses you sometimes shared, and for a while the both of you stayed that way. Just soft, fond kisses as he helped your body relax into him, relax into the couch, removing all the tension you had built up in your shoulders.

When you pulled away, you let out a soft sigh. He shifted and pulled you back against his chest, stroking your hair and murmuring sweet words of how much he loved you; how much you meant to him.

And you had never felt so... at peace, before. All these past weeks dealing with the void in your mind that you couldn't chase away—but here, in his arms, it was all minimized. Calm. Your thoughts weren't as scalding as they usually were.

You felt... Safe.

"Better?" he mumbled.

"...Yeah."

You closed your eyes.

There was another quiet silence before you felt him trace the scars on your arm.

"Wish I could help you relax more, make you feel more loved..." he mumbled.

You shook your head. "Despite everything I said, I already feel loved, Xavi, don't feel pressured to—"

"I'm not pressured."

There was determination in his voice when he said this, and you let out a soft, barely-there chuckle.

"Yeah," you smiled, "okay."

And he continued to trace over your scars.

"Angel?"

"Hm?"

"Do you still have thoughts right now?"

"Mmmh... A little bit. Yeah."

You tilted your head up to look at him, searching his eyes. "But... They're not so loud. This is... Comforting."

"Comforting?"

"Yeah. Staying in your arms like this..." Your eyes softened. "You're pretty comforting, Xavier."

"...But, do you... want a distraction?"

His eyes didn't stray away from yours, but you felt his fingers trail from your arm to your stomach, light, feathery strokes upwards towards your clothed breasts.

His intentions clicked, and you felt yourself blush slightly.

"Xavier..." you mumbled.

He didn't do anything more than stroke your exposed skin, never going further than you had given permission for him to.

But he asked you again, more clearly this time.

"...I could touch you," he gave you a small, faint smile. "If you want? At least... You wouldn't be thinking of anything too much that way..."

His voice trailed off as he noted your lack of response, and then he reached over to squeeze your hand.

"We don't have to do anything, angel. It was just a suggestion."

"...No, I— It's okay." Immediately, you shook your head. "You... You could definitely do that." You felt yourself get breathless at the thought of it, and you leaned back against him.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

You weren't looking at him in that moment, but you could feel him smile as he placed a soft kiss into your hair.

"Okay. Then... I'll make you feel good, angel."

It was a promise, and one that you knew he could fulfil easily.

You felt him tilt your chin up next, your eyes meeting once more, and then he kissed you. Still soft, still slow; his lips moved languidly against yours as if to ease you into it. You felt butterflies in your stomach—this was a kiss that you knew very well from him, and one that you both knew you loved. It was a kiss that said more than just "i love you"; it was a kiss that said "i like being here with you", a kiss that said " let's stay like this forever".

It was a testament—that Xavier was yours, and you were his, and he would show you that he loved you more than you would ever realize.

Slowly, you pulled back from the kiss, the both of you panting. But you didn't look away, and neither did he—not even as his hands moved lower to undo the buttons or your jeans, not even as you lifted your hips for him to pull them down.

"Do you want them off?" he mumbled, still keeping his eyes on yours. "Want you to be comfortable."

"...Mhm. S'okay. I needed to change, anyway..."

When he'd helped you out of your jeans, his lips were back on yours once more—hands gently stroking your sides, tracing your wounds, and your scars, taking his time with you. Your eyes fluttered closed. Xavier's touches were so sweet, so comforting. They could lull you into sleep, and he was right; there was no more space for you to think of any other thoughts that weren't just... him.

When he reached over to unclasp your bra, he let it fall off to the side. And then he leaned his chin over the top of your head, almost as if to get a better look.

"Haven't seen these before," he commented, a little cheekily.

You rolled your eyes—if you weren't nestled so comfortably in his embrace, you'd have reached up to hit him in indignance. "...Don't act all innocent," you mumbled.

"Hm? Wasn't acting, angel." He cupped your breasts, humming slightly, still keeping his eyes on them. You felt him gently massage them in his hands, and you let out a sigh. "They're so soft. It's different from touching them through your shirt."

"Xavier..."

He chuckled, leaning back up to give you another kiss. "I know. This... is why you've always wanted to keep your shirt on, right? Your... scars."

You felt your stomach churn with guilt for a split second, before your body shuddered and melted into the way his hands worked at your chest.

"...D- didn't want you to know..." you breathed out. "'S not easy to say..."

"I know. But thank you for telling me, angel. You can tell me anything, alright? We'll work through this together."

Together. We.

He wasn't saying that it was... your problem. He was saying it was on the both of you—that you weren't alone, and that he would be with you every step away... And it was such a sweet thing for him to say. His words touched your heart, and you felt yourself letting out a shaky breath.

"...Okay," you whispered. "Okay."

He leaned back down to suckle over your collarbone, then, nibbling gently over your skin. It was enough to draw out a soft moan from you.

"Ah... That feels nice..."

In response, his fingers brushed over your nipples. The sudden direct stimulation made you gasp—

And you understood what he meant.

It was different, like this. Now, without any fabric as a barrier, the pads of his fingers rubbed oh-so-perfectly over your little nubs, and it felt... good.

Better than you were used to.

Xavier hummed as he rest his head back on your shoulder, watching the way your breasts molded into his palm, your nipples pert and hard as he began to twist and pinch them in his hands.

"They're pretty up close," he stated again, a little matter-of-factly. "We should do this more often..."

Another pull at your nipples, and you moaned.

"Mmh, shit—yes—"

You wanted to retort, but instead, you found yourself arching your back further into his hands. Your eyes clouded over slightly.

"Yeah? Feels nice?" he murmured.

"Mhm... Feels real nice, Xav..."

He nuzzled into your neck, a soft, loving action despite what he was doing to your body.

"D'you think you could cum like this? Or do you need more?"

His motions remained steady as he spoke, his eyes flitting over your figure. And you, on the other hand, felt your breath come out in a long exhale.

You closed your eyes.

"...More."

And he smiled.

You could feel it, the way the corners of his lips turned up against your skin where he placed light kisses on the base of your neck. And then he kept one hand on your breast, his other hand began to trail slowly down your stomach.

Your body jolted slightly at the change, his fingers leaving a trail of goosebumps before they settled over your thigh. His hand stayed stationed there, squeezing it gently... Never quite moving upwards, not just yet. He was still quite far from where you wanted him like this, and you huffed with displeasure.

"Can I tease?" he asked, and you could feel his smile widen.

You groaned.

"No! M'already wet."

"But I want to take my time with you, princess. You're so... beautiful."

The way he moaned in your ear, kneading your thighs, made you shiver with excitement. He'd been asking you if he could tease... Yet here he was, already doing it anyway.

You grit your teeth. "I need you, Xavi."

"But... Please? It'll prolong the pleasure, you know?"

"...Why are you begging me?"

You scoffed this time, and he chuckled, his breath hitting the shell of your ear.

"I just like the way your body responds to me. You know that."

Once again, you felt that you could have smacked him on the head if you had any remaining ounce of control over your body, but you only bucked your hips forward in a failed attempt to chase his fingers. The way he laughed at you made you glare at him indignantly—It was almost like a little apology on his part when he leaned in for a quick, quick kiss, his hand sliding just a little bit further up your thigh.

"I love you, okay, angel?" he sighed. "Just... wanted to let you know that, again."

You huffed slightly.

"I know, Xavier. And I love you. But as much as I want to say thank you, I just really, really need your fingers inside me. ...Please?"

Impatience was not a look you favored on yourself, but Xavier didn't mind it—he never minded if you preferred to be quiet, or vocal, or demanding, or receptive... Xavier, despite the way he would tease, had always been driven by the need to please you.

So he finally complied with your request.

You felt him gently bring your knees up closer to your chest, feet close together before he pushed your knees apart, and then he let out a low groan. With you spread out effectively for him, he reached over to gather your slick onto his finger.

"So beautiful for me, angel," he nibbled on your ear, making you shiver. "And so, so wet."

In response, you moaned, allowing your head to lull slightly to the side as he spread your juices all over your cunt in gentle strokes. "I told you," you spoke in a hushed tone.

"Hmm... and what's on your mind now, angel?" His breath was still so close to your ear as he spoke, his tone low, and raspy—sultry, like it always was when you did things like this.

"You."

You didn't hesitate to answer, your mouth falling open in a silent gasp when his middle finger slid inside with a wet squelch.

"Mhm? And?"

"...Y- your fingers..."

He slowly dragged his finger out before thrusting back in, his breath hot and heavy. You could feel him smile.

"Anything else, angel?"

He could have almost been cooing at this point, and it was driving you insane. You groaned in frustration, lifting your hips slightly as if to get from him the stimulation you needed.

"Nothing," you moaned as you felt his thumb reach up to brush against your clit. Slow, thrusting motions, and occassional rubs—it was driving you insane. "N-nothing else, Xav, just— just how good you're making me feel—"

He let out a satisfied chuckle then, drawing his finger out and having then drip with your arousal:

"Good."

Your eyes flew wide open as he thrust back into you, moving his finger relentlessly inside as if to explore your walls. It was barely seconds before his index finger pushed right inside your tight hole as well, filling you up in a way that you couldn't do to yourself. His fingers were so long, so much better than your own, and no matter how many times he fingered you, you could never, ever tire of it.

He picked up the pace as your hips met his thrusts.

"F- fuck!" you cursed, panting as he did just that with his fingers, his thumb still circling over your clit, his other hand still avidly toying with your breast and your nipple.

The combined stimulation clouded your brain; he felt so damn good. If, when he'd just started, he had already chased away any foreign thoughts—now, your mind had nearly frozen white. Your mouth hung open as a testament to your pleasure, and he panted into your ear all the same, almost as if he were just as affected.

His fingers continued to pump into you, stretching you wide, curling against your sensitive spot, rubbing you in all the right places. Your legs began to shake, and he lightly licked at the shell of your ear.

"Close?" he murmured, having already memorized the telltale signs of the onset of your orgasm.

You could only nod, choking back a moan.

And then his lips were back on yours.

A little more frantic in his kisses this time, as he fucked you harder with his fingers, pinching and pulling and rolling your nipples—

"M-mmf—!"

You let out a muffled moan, swallowed into the kiss as you came. Your back arched, your body shuddering; a wave of pleasure came crashing into you with such force that it had you feeling shocked.

When he pulled back, the both of you were panting, your eyes clouded and hazy, his fingers wet and sticky when he slid them out of your cunt.

"...Better, princess?" he whispered, and there was another cheeky, cheeky grin on his face.

You smiled back at him, and he leaned over to kiss the tip of your nose.

"Much."

With a soft chuckle, he continued to place light, feathery all over your face, easing you out of your high, until your breathing became calmer.

"I could take you to your room," he mumbled, feeling you close your legs and cuddle into him. "Are you cold?"

"Cold? After you've just made me cum?" You scoffed, somewhat, but willingly clung to his arms. "I'm okay. But... The bed would be nice..."

Another kiss into your hair, another soft smile. "Okay."

He had you carried in his arms the next moment, soft footsteps padding the floor to your bedroom and gently laying you over your mattress. He took a few moments to wipe you down, before he drew your blanket up over your body, and slipped in to lay right beside you. He shifted your head to rest on his shoulder.

"Tired?" he hummed.

A pause, and then,

"...Yeah, kind of." You closed your eyes as you relaxed into his warmth. "But, you haven't done anything... You could put it inside me—or I could suck you off, or—"

He immediately cut you off as he gave you a small frown, and then before you could react, he kissed you almost harshly—as if to shut you up.

"Mmf— Xavier!" you gasped when you pulled away, your frown mirroring his own. "What was that for?"

"You said you were tired."

"...Huh?"

"Why would you expect me to do any more if you said you were tired?"

You searched his expression to realize that his frown was rooted instead in confusion, rather than disdain or disapproval.

"...But... Isn't it unfair...? If you just let me sleep like this..."

"...Do you want to, angel?" A small pout formed on his lips. "I'm alright like this. It's unfair if I force you when you don't want to. You should rest, if you're tired. This doesn't have to be... transactional, you know? We can do more when you want to."

The use of the word 'transactional'made you flush slightly with embarrassment, as you realized that was likely how you'd made it seem—you shook your head immediately. But his words, at the same time, gave you the space to lay back against his chest, wrapping your arms around him as the sound of his heartbeat seemed to lull you peacefully.

"...Sorry," you whispered. "I didn't mean it that way. I know our sex isn't like that..."

You sighed. "I'll... I'll sleep for a bit, then? But... thanks, Xavi."

You felt him place another kiss into your hair, a fond, loving gesture, as he shifted to hug your body tightly against his.

"I'll be right here when you wake up."

It was a promise; a genuine one.

Xavier wasn't going to leave you alone, no matter how many times your mind would bug you to think that way.

And you trusted him, and you loved him... and he had shown the same back to you—now, and always.

A tiny little smile made its way to your face as your eyelids fluttered close.

"I love you, Xavier," you whispered. "Thank you."

⁺₊ / an: inspired by xavier's 4★ card pair, "shining light" and "shining traces" !! i think we underestimate how cold and intimidating xavier can really get because if he was angry at me i too would wish the ground would swallow me whole 😭

© solifloris. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

[heissenn]

𝐇𝐒𝐑 𝐖𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍'𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐏𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 featuring: silver wolf, lingsha, the herta, kafka, sparkle tags: fluff, self-aware au

silverwolf

"you're kidding me," you hear silverwolf's annoyed voice through your headphones.

silverwolf watches through your camera as you put both your hands together and lower your head in apology. before you can say your sorry excuses, the hacker sighs loudly and beats your incoming punch with her own. "it's the meta isn't it?"

"i mean, it'd make sense to pull for newer characters since you can't even clear endgame," she teases, taking a jab at your gaming skills every chance she gets like she usually does. her voice sounded light and casual but the twinge of dejection didn't escape your trained ears. you couldn't think of anything else to say since she saw right through your reasons.

"i won't say i don't understand. i'm a gamer too, y'know." silverwolf shrugs as she pops her bubblegum with a loud smack. she takes out her phone and gave it a few taps.

"but that doesn't mean i'm gonna accept your decision." and with that, your screen suddenly turns black. you try to restart your computer and reboot the game but the black screen keeps staring right back at you.

after a few weeks of multiple failed attempts, rendering you unable to pull for the character you wanted. hours right before the banner ends, your computer finally comes back to life. however, you log in to the game only to find out all your reserves of stellar jades and special passes were emptied.

you hear a bubblegum smack as you look at your screen in despair.

lingsha

"i wonder what made you go back on your promise," lingsha is as sweet as ever even as you break the news to her. she smiles at you over your screen albeit her eyes were dimmer and you see a raging vein popping in the side of her smooth forehead, a clear sign she's quite irritated.

"you were doing so good saving up for me, dear. you even told me you were going to get all of my eidolons," her smile twitches as the words leave her mouth and her hands that were petting tuskpir freeze for a moment before caressing again.

"did other women caught your eye, perhaps?" she asks with a raised eyebrow, staring right at you and boring a hole through your soul despite being in a completely dimension as you. "no, of course not," you deny as soon as her words materialized in the air.

"then, what prompted the change of plans?" she asks again, more firmly this time. tuskpir notices the change in her demeanor and quickly scurried off, leaving you alone to deal with a quietly seething cauldron master.

"have you lost interest in me then? maybe in starting to lose my touch." linsgha is confident she has you wrapped around her finger but she still couldn't help but question, it has more to do with her desire to see you squirm uncomfortably rather than being conscious of her charms.

"you know as well as i do that i haven't," your answer sounded more like a plea. it gave lingsha satisfaction but, unfortunately, her mind games are not over yet. at least not until she gets what she wants.

"so, what is the reason then, darling," the question leaves her mouth for the third time but her small smile never left her face once although it was slowly becoming smaller and smaller. you stay silent, racking your brain for reasons to ease her tranquil wrath. she takes your pause as cue to give you her final blow of the long interrogation.

"if you don't have one, then let's do as you promise. warp for me." there wasn't room for questions unlike her previous remarks. her hand outstretches to you as if inviting. you nod without a second thought.

the herta

"why?"

herta is confused. not pull for her? that is something even lifeforms with the lowest intelligence would not dare do. unfathomable. doing the unthinkable might have been what initially made herta take interest in you but now she thinks you're losing a few braincells.

"who could possibly be better than me?" it would take a whole lot to damage the herta's enormous and pristine ego but she thinks your decision poked it a little. "there's no correct answer by the way. no one is better than me," she answers her own question.

"perhaps you've grown complacent because you have my puppets with you." she comes closer to your screen. "but do you not want the real thing?" she asks as her voice tickles your ears trough the speakers. but before she can get anymore closer she stops halfway through, rekindling your desire to pull her closer.

"well, feel free to do as you like. i could care less about what you do anyways," she flips her silky hair and struts away from you.

well, that went easier than you thought. you were sure herta would give you hell for even thinking about not pulling for her. so you go on your merry way to go back to farming.

"not even one stellar jade?!?! after three hours of farming!"

you spent your remaining fuels and trailblazer power but it seems the system is bent on cursing you. the monsters were harder to beat and the rare instance that you do the drops were extremely scarce.

in the end, you weren't able to pull for the character you wanted due to insufficient resources.

kafka

"there's no need to choose, love." kafka says calmly as she looks down at you from her seat. the camera is always angled upwards every time she's on screen, effectively you making you crane your neck to glance at her like is the sky.

"name the price and you shall have it," she declares without any hesitation. her smooth cheek rests on her palm as if sponsoring your pulls are as trivial as the sky being blue.

"i-no, it's wrong. i don't want you to use your money on me," no matter how enticing the offer was, your morals held you back from accepting. you're not her sugar baby, you remind yourself.

"and i don't want you wanting anyone else other me," she replies without missing a beat and your heart thumps louder with how fast she responded without an ounce of doubt in her smooth voice.

"so don't be shy and take it. i want you to have me."

sparkle

"YES! FIRST TEN PULLS AND SHE FINALLY CAME HOME!"

you stand from your chair in shock as the character you've been warping for appear on screen. your fingers hurriedly go to the character menu to greet the new addition to your roster.

"hello~, little one," the character greets you. odd, you don't think the character would call you 'little one'. you only know one person that would call you such nickname. the feeling of familiarity creeps up from your spine and settles at the back of your tongue as you come up with a plausible deduction.

"sparkle," you sigh. you should've known sparkle wouldn't just sit around and watch you warp for somebody else.

"oh no! my cover's been blown," despite the words, the character giggles as she puts her hand in front of her lips. slowly the character's appearance morph into the mischievous girl you know.

"whats with the disappointed look? you're hurting my feelings, cutie," sparkle fakes a pout as her hand press against her chest before her signature smirk takes home in her lips again.

"you should've seen your face when you were celebrating!" she clasps her hands in front and her eyes cloud and get dreamy as she reminisces your reaction.

"you must be even happier since you got a better one, me" she blows a kiss to your camera.

[written-in-flowers]

Dying Twice: Thanos x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Thanos / Choi Subong x Fem!Reader

Genre: Angst, smut

Word Count: 5k

Summary: "The heart no longer races when hearing the music play, tryna pull up. Seems like time has stopped. Oh, that would be my first death I been always afraid of" - BTS "Black Swan"

Or you should be scared to play the games, but what is the point in fear if you've already died once? What else is there?

Tags: k-rapper!reader, angst, mentions of drug use, drug use, mentions of partying, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, dom/sub undertones (if you look closely), slight choking.

****

You really landed yourself in a bind this time. As if getting scammed and having to scrape to get by, you sunk low enough to end up here…wherever here was. You still couldn't figure out what kind of place the masked men brought you to. In colors of sickening pink and eye sore yellow, the maze of stairs reminded you of a painting you'd seen. The stairs went up and down and side to side. They went upside-down and sideways. Like with that, you had trouble gauging the path to your destination. Perhaps that didn't matter. You followed the rest of the players through the maze guarded by masked men. They said you'd be playing games for a cash prize. It sounded too good to be true…

But you couldn't pass it up. 

Standing in line to have your photo taken, someone tapped your shoulder. You turned to see a young woman with a short ponytail standing with an excited smile on her face. A pang of dread hit you when you recognized the signs.

“You're B.Kat,” she beamed, getting a better look at your face. “From The Rap Battleground. I've listened to all your songs, and went to your shows! Oh my god, this is so cool! I love your music!”

“Yeah, thanks.” 

“I saw you at The Rap Battleground,” she continued, “When they paired you up with that one rapper.”

“Sik-k,” you said. 

“Yeah, and you burned him so bad,” she laughed. “Oh my god! ‘tell these boys to get back, don't they know I'm fucking S-class’” she repeated, mirroring your gestures. “Ah, this is so sick! I always wondered what happened to you after your last album.”

Everything went downhill, that's what. You'd trusted Nico to manage your money, and instead he embezzled it. You’d given him everything: your heart, your body and soul. The trust the both of you shared went beyond lovers. Hearts beating like one, you swore your souls meshed together the night you met. They’d imprinted and became one form instead of two separate ones. The day you found out what he’d done, your heart physically ached. The threads keeping you together pulled and snapped, the metaphorical red threads falling to the ground. That thread might have never existed to begin with. Nico went to prison but you'd lost everything. All the money you made with your music suddenly disappeared overnight. You tried rebuilding your career, but being a woman in a male dominated industry was rough. Not many producers took you seriously. You’d even been snubbed at Battle, where the judges chose a man over you despite what audiences believed. It didn’t matter how masculine you tried being, you’d never fit in with them. 

“Hey, can I get a picture?” she asked excitedly. “Please?”

“Yeah, me too!” A man nearby overheard and jumped into line with you. “You and Thanos are my favorite rappers. You're both lyrical geniuses.”

“And me!” said another woman, coming over to you. “And can I get your autograph?”

“Um, look, I-”

“-Now, now, everyone. Let's not crowd B.Kat like this.”

You recognized him right away. Long brown hair slicked back from his face, his jacket read ‘124’. Funny, you thought, you were 126. The club manager from Club Pentagon, Namgyu. You remembered the smooth way he'd integrated himself in your inner circle that first night. He'd come bearing drugs and free alcohol that you eagerly accepted. Smooth talking and flirty, you hadn't minded his advances since he’d been before Nico. 

“You can all take a photo with her and Thanos,” he said to the group. 

He gestured over to a man with spiky purple hair. Thanos. A cold sweat went over you seeing him in person. The last time you’d seen him, you both were panting and bottomless in the Battle dressing room. A part of you shivered recalling how his hands felt on your body back then. In that dressing room, he’d pressed on every weak spot as if he’d already known. He’d worked you easily, driving you crazy and nearly begging for him to enter you. When he finally did, it was better than any high you’d ever had before. You sometimes thought he’d been better than Nico. 

“Wassup, Senorita?” he said, and you almost laughed from his cringey opener. “I haven't seen you since Battleground.”

“I've been around,” you lied. 

“Let's take a photo with our fans,” he said to the delight of the group. “A real artist doesn't deny their fans.”

Before you could reject the offer, Thanos and Namgyu pulled you to the camera station next. It reminded you of times that pulled at your broken heart. The fans who used to come to every single show regardless of location; the ones who posted about you on their social media and streamed your music. You didn’t care about the fame they brought, but the acceptance and energy. When you stood behind your microphone, you were home. You could breathe amongst them. Nowadays, you can hardly bear it. Your last album disappointed a lot of people; they said it sounded too manufactured and not like your old sound. You’d gotten a ghostwriter to help you, and that itself was a disaster. The group of followers circled around you for the photo before a masked man stopped you. 

“It's only one photo!” said the first woman told the guard. “You took our phones so we can't take the photos ourselves!”

“Don't you know who they are?” asked the man. “This is B.Kat and Thanos. You know, the rappers?”

“It's not allowed,” the masked soldier said again, crossing his arms in an X symbol. 

The group groaned in disappointment, but Thanos turned to them. “Tell you what. When we get out of here, B.Kat and I will take photos with all of you.”

“Or just with you,” you said. 

“We might even do a friendly rap battle, eh?” he teased you with a nudge. 

“Ooh yeah!” The group cheered, excited by the prospect. 

“I don't think so-”

“-Please step aside,” said the masked man, “And take your individual photos.”

You were the first to obey. However, they weren't done with you. Thanos came up beside you. 

“You know, it’s not cool to snub your fans like that,” he said in matter-of-factly tone. “People will start thinking you’re a snotty person.”

“I don’t have fans anymore,” you replied, not meeting his eyes. 

“You have plenty,” he reasoned, gesturing to the people behind you. “Like, who were those people then? Paid fans?” When you did not answer, he said, “Where’ve you been, B? You haven’t been in the game for a while.”

“I retired.”

He scoffed, “You can’t retire. You’re too young to retire.”

“I did.”

“Why?”

“Just wasn’t feeling it anymore.”  

You missed it. You missed being on stage performing for a crowd of people, just feeding off one another's energy. In the dark rooms and dim lights you could release everything laying inside you. You could be another person. But, then it stopped. The music that used to flow out of you felt stuck and dry. It no longer brought the same excitement as before. Every time you thought about stepping on stage, shame came and drove you away. You sat in your room for ages trying to write lyrics or music, but it didn’t happen. The worst thing that could happen did happen: you’d lost your passion. 

“That's a shame,” he said. “I liked your music. I enjoy your flow better. You have a lot of control, so you're precise but still spitting like crazy. Like,” he chuckled, “‘This ain’t a movie, wake up. You’ve lost your sense of reality. Fall away far from here.’ It flows so well. I hoped to hear more after that album of yours.”

You didn’t want to talk about your album. Nico’s betrayal hurt enough without adding your stupid decision to it. “Thanks.”

You all walked into an open roof room. Nothing in it but sand and a large animatronic doll at the end of the room. A female voice explained the rules as Red Light, Green Light. 

“We're playing Red Light, Green Light?” Thanos scoffed when it was announced. “This will be a cake walk.”

“I don’t think so,” you said, eyeing the doll at the end by the tree. An ominous feeling crept inside your bones, stiffening them as you walked. 

“Why?”

“That’s too easy. There must be a catch.” You searched the room for the answer, but you saw nothing unusual. “They wouldn’t give a bunch of broke people a chance at money without there being some challenge to this.”

“You’re being paranoid.”

“Maybe.”

You felt him stand closer to you. “Don’t worry, B,” he said, winking, “I’ll protect you.”

You somehow doubted that. When the game finally started, your suspicions were proven right. A man-Player 456-told you that the doll was a motion detector and if you moved, they’d shoot you. Nobody believed him the first time, scoffing and laughing at him. 

“He’s like my old man when he comes home drunk,” Thanos said with a smirk, “Just spitting nonsense.” 

“He’s not drunk.”

“What do you mean? Look at him.” 

When the doll called out a second and third time, the true catch was revealed. Bullets came flying from different directions, piercing through people that moved even a smidge. Hot blood sprayed on your face as the man in front of you got a bullet to the head. You could taste the droplets near your mouth, and the stench of blood stuck to your nostrils. Staring down, you realized you’d never seen a dead body before. Not even at a funeral. The man, pot-bellied and bald, laid lifeless at your feet. When it came time to move, you stepped around him and kept going until you reached the end. More people around you and Thanos dropped to the ground. You turned to see your own horror mirrored in his eyes. 

The game ended, and you stared at the field of bodies left on the ground. You wondered what you’d gotten yourself into for real. This wasn’t normal. This wasn’t real. It’s a nightmare that you’d wake up from any second. Yet, as you walked on shaky legs back to the dorm, the blood you wiped from your face made everything real. Nobody spoke as you entered the dorm. You walked right to your bunk in the far corner, visions of the dead still clouding your mind. How could they do that? They’d shot those people so easily. What kind of person came up with “games” like this?

“This shit is crazy, man.” Thanos took the bed beside yours, shocked and confused. “What the fuck is going on?”

“I don’t know,” you replied, hugging your sides. “I…Those people…It’s…”

Neither of you spoke for a while. You saw the same horrified expressions on the other players. It was the small click that broke you from your thoughts. Thanos had retrieved a large cross from under his shirt and opened it to reveal several different colored pills. Nico used to have a vial of cocaine he kept on him at all times. He always shared it with you. He said he’d do it with nobody else. You wonder now how true that was. 

“Want one?” Thanos offered the cross to you, chewing down on one of them. “It’s crazy good, man. Like nothing I’ve done before.” 

“No, thanks.”

“Come on, I know you pop too. We did it together that night.”

“No.” 

He closed the cross, and finished chewing. “Your last album was shit,” he said out of nowhere, still watching the rest of the group. “Who wrote the music? Nico?”

No point denying it. “This guy named Huey.”

“You used to write your own verses. I saw you doing it during Battleground. What happened?”

“It stopped coming to me.”

“You thought getting a ghostwriter would make it easier?” 

“I needed to make money.

“And lose all your cred in the process?”

“I didn’t think the difference would be that noticeable.”

“Psh, well, it fucking was. Everybody was talking about it. They said you’d finally sold out.”

“I know what they were saying.”

“People already thought a girl rapper was a joke,” he said, “And right when you were showing people you were the real deal, you-”

“-Keep talking and I’ll shove that cross down your fucking throat,” you snapped. “I already know all that. You think I don’t know it? I’ve known since before Battleground when they picked that clown J.D. over me. I heard the shit those fuckers said behind my back: that they thought I was somebody’s girlfriend when they saw me and how I’d make a better groupie than a rapper. I don’t need a pill popper telling me how I fucked up my career. My boyfriend taking my money is already embarrassing enough.” 

“Nico took your money?” This made him turn his head. 

“Yeah.”

“Damn,” he huffed. “That’s ten times more fucked up. At least the guy who scammed me didn’t know me.” 

“Who scammed you?”

“MG Coin,” he scowled, “He told us to invest in this coin and we’d be billionaires. Then the guys who made the coin took all of the money and ran.” He stared into the crowd, “And now he’s here.”

“He is?”

“Yeah. I’m gonna get my money back from him one way or another.”

“Me too!” Namgyu appeared hanging from a bunk above you both. 

“Namsu-”

“-Namgyu-” he corrected Thanos.

“Yeah, Namgyu and I bonded over our shared misfortune,” Thanos said. “We’re gonna get our money back from him. All of it.”

“In order for him to pay you back, he’s got to be the sole winner,” you said, “And in order to be the sole winner, we’d have to be dead.”

“I ain’t dying,” he scoffed, “And neither are you.”

“I already did, so it doesn’t matter.”

Your chest tightened whenever you thought about it. The last time you’d held your notebook, you’d stared at the pages until you gave up. When you last heard one of your songs, you felt nothing. A part of you, you felt, had died. The excitement that used to come out of you no longer existed. It was your first death. Dying in these stupid games would only be a second one. 

“Pill?” He offered his cross a second time, seeing your watering eyes. 

You took a red one without hesitation this time. Crushing it between your teeth, you knew the chalky substance would sink into your bloodstream and you’d forget about it. 

“Can I get one?” Namgyu asked eagerly, trying to get closer to him. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Thanos said as if he weren’t already tucking the cross away. 

The masked men returned to the room, and everyone gathered in the center. They told you the new accumulated amount, then for a vote. People could vote to either keep the games going or stop them and leave with a share of what’s left. Seeing the amount left, you knew what choice you needed to make. 

“That would barely put a dent in my debt,” you said out loud to yourself. 

“Same,” said Thanos. You saw the drug starting to take over him with his restless body. “So, it looks like we’re going back into the fray together, B!” 

“Looks like it.”

As expected, even with the amount of bloodshed they’d witnessed, most people picked to continue the games. You heard some people say ‘just one more game can cover my debt’. That depended on how many people died in the next game. As the drug starts running in your veins, you let yourself get lost in the euphoria. 

Hey, if you’re going to die a second time, you’d enjoy the time while you could. 

****

“Fuck, you taste good.”

His tongue swirled and dipped carefully over the hard nub and hood. Your nails dug into his hair, purple hair tangling between your fingers. 

“Better than anything I’ve had before.” 

A slight rush of cold on your side pulled you from the hazy dream. 

“That’s a good girl…Yeah, just like that…You look so pretty like this…Can we just stay here? You feel so fucking good, baby. I don’t want to stop.”

His hands and lips were fire on your skin. His length sunk deep in every thrust, stretching and filling you. Your hands slipped into the dark purple spikes of his hair, scratching his scalp as you tugged on it out of habit. He kept you pinned with his body as he slowly rocked his hips to yours. 

“Subong…”

His body came first. He slowly uncurled you from your sideways position for more access to you. A pair of lips started pecking your neck, starting at your shoulder before reaching the curve at the base. Your mind stayed in between dreams and reality, unable to register what was really going on. Soft breaths buried themselves in your hair, while two hands went around your middle. 

He withdrew just to rub against your clit. His girth pushed your swollen lips apart, sliding over the sensitive nub before slipping back into your entrance. You didn’t think Subong would be any good, but here he was driving you crazy. 

“I was that good, huh?” his voice filled your ear, pulling you from your wet dreams. “So good you dream about it?” You responded with a weary whine. “You sounded so sweet whimpering my name just now. You should do it again.” 

You whined at the hands toying with your nipples. His fingers whirled slowly around the softness to stimulate them, which wasn’t hard to do. That familiar tightness built between your thighs. It had been a long time since anyone coaxed this feeling out of you. You reached around through Thanos’s arms, grabbing the nape of his neck to touch as much as you could. He grinded into you, his hardness poking against your ass each time and causing him to groan. Whether it was the pills or you really had talked in your sleep, you didn’t care. You didn’t want him to stop. 

“Open your legs,” he whispered, turning your head to draw you in for a kiss. His tongue slipped over yours in the deep kiss, passionate like the first time. He explored your mouth with his tongue before ending it with a few soft pecks. “Let me see how wet you’ve gotten.” 

You let him slip off your sweatpants to reveal the plain cotton underwear. Rubbing your thighs together, you knew there must be a small wet patch already there. You got confirmation when three fingers rubbed over it, and he groaned. 

“It must’ve been a nice dream if you’re this wet already,” he said, lightly dotting kisses on your neck. “I remember how wet you got for me in that dressing room. It was running down your thighs when I started fucking you. You remember that, don’t you, baby? You remember how sticky and sloppy your pussy was before I railed you?”

“Ye-yes…” You let go of his hair to feel down his body to his center. He quivered at your touch, breathing heavily as you reached the bulge pressing to you. “I remember how hard you were by the time I put you in my mouth.” 

“Best blowjob I ever had,” said Thanos, pushing into your hand as he spread your wetness through your panties. “I got so jealous when I heard you started dating someone. I would’ve treated you a billion times better than him,” he traced his tongue along your ear, “And fucked you as much as you wanted.” 

“Why do I believe that?” you giggled, giving his cock a squeeze. 

Thanos chuckled as he turned your head to kiss you. His tongue instantly darting into your mouth, your arousal grew feeling him harden in your hand. Not particularly big, you knew he’d make you see stars by the time you finished. You slid over the hard tip before teasing the sensitive underside. You couldn’t stop thinking about him inside you. His thickness pulsing and twitching in his boxers brought memories of how perfectly he’d filled you that night. Nico wasn’t very big, but Thano’s was the perfect length. 

He’d also gone longer. 

Soon, Thanos pushed through your panties, and a rush of cold air made you tremble. Two fingers holding your swollen lips open, a third one flicked over your clitoris. You flinched at the single swipe, earning light chuckles before he did it a second time. The tip of his finger rolling around it, you put your hand in his boxers to feel his hot, hard cock on your fingers. A light trickle of precum became the lube you used to coat his tip. The squishy bulb leaked into your palm in every stroke, and his low moans filled your ear. You sensed his need beginning to build with yours, making you stroke him more. 

“Pl-please,” you whimpered, eyes closing and back arching as he teased your entrance with two fingers. “Please…”

“You’ll get it soon, baby,” Thanos promised, free hand sliding up to your throat where he held in your place. “You’ll get it really soon. Be a good girl and be quiet for me. We wouldn’t want to wake anyone else up.” 

Your leg going back over his, Thanos pinned it down with his arm. Volume really should be a concern, but the overwhelming pleasure overcame that sense. You squirmed in his hold while he teased you. Spreading your juices around, you heard the faint slick sounds in every move. It was when he slipped the fingers inside that your thighs closed, trapping his hand there. 

“No, no, no,” he said, pulling your thigh back up, “You’re keeping these open for me.” 

“Subong,” you whined quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. 

He sunk them deep, wriggling the tips around as he curled them. “How can I touch you if they’re closed? You have to keep them open if you want me to make you feel good,” he continued, seeing you moan and writhe from his touches, “Just turn your brain off, and let me take care of you.”

His palm tapping your clit made your thighs and legs tremble. Your back arched against him as your hips moved into his hand. They reached right to your g-spot like they’d done the first time. You recalled everyone having gone home, but you’d stayed to keep rehearsing in your dressing room. He’d come innocently, wanting to talk about music and songwriting, but then it became less innocent. The thought it might’ve been a bet between the men came to you, yet it had been a while and you thought he was cute. It’d been by luck that nobody knew about what you two had done in the dressing room. 

“You hear that?” He asked, as he fingered you quickly. He made sure you heard the squishing sounds of your sex gripping his fingers. “That’s all you, sweetie. That’s the sound of your sweet pussy drenched and wet.”

Your body shivered as he went deeper and faster, the sensation crippling you. The deep, tongue-clashing kiss you then shared was what sent you over. Your body suddenly became sensitive to his touch. Muscles tensing in their grasp, eyes squeezed shut as you restrain your orgasm with his mouth, you got lost in the euphoria coursing in your like a drug. 

You didn’t have a moment to process anything before the cock in your hand replaced his fingers. Thanos continued the steady pace, holding onto your thigh to keep your legs spread. You could feel him spreading you out, mixing your wetness with his own inside your pussy. Like last time, he hit your core dead center and had you grinding into him for more inches. His faint whimper at your hips whirling to his stroked your ego a bit. 

“You had sounded hot too, you know,” you moaned between kisses, keeping his hand on your pussy. 

“Oh yeah?” Thanos lifting your leg up and changing his angle slightly. 

“Yes,” you said, clenching your jaw as you suppressed more moans. “I love hearing guys moan.”

He took immediate advantage of this information. Lips to your ear, his groans tickled the edges. Hearing it out loud, even in the quiet room, lets you imagine all the pleasure he must be experiencing because of you. Your walls dragged across his cock in each thrust, and you purposefully clenched them to make yourself tighter for him. Thanos drew closer as he lifted your thigh upwards, holding you by your ass instead as he thrusted faster. It showed in the way he gripped your body close to him, wanting to touch more of you. You thanked God you didn’t have anyone sleeping above you. 

You were jelly by the time he pulled you underneath him and forced your legs open. As you knew he would, he gently tapped and rubbed against your clit. Overstimulated but wanting more, you cupped your breasts and brushed your nipples for added pleasure. Thanos didn’t allow this. Pushing your hands aside, he pinned them to your sides as he pushed his cock inside you. You couldn’t stop yourself from grinding against him, loving every inch he gave you in his thrusting. 

“Just as good as I remember,” he grunted in your ear, not holding back anymore. The bunk might’ve pushed into the wall if it weren’t bolted to the floor. Yet, the light smack of his hips to yours could be heard. “Best pussy I’ve ever had.”

The best dick you’d ever had, including Nico’s, though you didn’t say so out loud. Your mouth could not word the thoughts going through your head. Even back then, Thanos’s cock turned you into a senseless, incoherent mess. You could lay in that bed and take him forever. In the half glow of the dorm, you could see his shirtless body hovering over you. Dark hair hanging over his face, eyes full of lust, he’d look the same in the dressing room. 

“I'd vote X if it meant I get to have-have this,” he said in your ear, hands keeping yours to the bed as he took long strokes. “Get to have this tight pussy to myself…all the time…whenever I want…”

“Subong,” you whined, your second orgasm approaching.

“I love when you say my name,” he groaned against your shoulder, “Say it again, baby.” 

You said his name like a mantra, the word matching the pace of his hips. You noticed he went particularly hard the times you whined his name instead. He released your wrists and knelt up, lifting your hips from the bed. In this new, elevated position, you could only grind on him as he pumped himself inside you. His muscles constricted from the hold his orgasm and position had on him. As your walls squeezed him, his head fell back, eyes closed and mouth open in every quiet moan he forced back. You reached out for him, grabbing his forearms and keeping him close this way. Trembling in his hold, Thanos sensed your next orgasm and chased it down. 

He stuck two fingers in your mouth right as you came around him. Moans muffled by the digits pushing down on your tongue, occasionally pushing to your throat. You forgot where you were at that moment. Pleasure and bliss washed over you in waves, crashing down in trembles and twitching. It controlled every sense in your body, keeping you going but also wearing you down. You held onto his wrist to keep his fingers in your mouth, regardless of the drool they created. Eyes locked on one another, he didn’t tear away even when his own climax approached. Something deeper happened in that moment that had nothing to do with him cumming inside you. Legs hooked around his waist, you kept him close as he emptied the last few drops into your cunt. 

“Fuck,” he huffed, settled between your legs and head on your shoulder, “Fucking amazing.”

“Very.”

This is where you expected him to roll over, mutter a goodbye, and start heading back to his bunk. He didn’t. Thanos did lay beside you in the bed, but he didn’t leave. You didn’t mind. It felt nice having someone next to you again. Perhaps you’d let him come back tomorrow night just to have the closeness. Feeling his cum starting to leak from you, you knew you should do something about it, but why? You might not make it out of this place. What did it matter if anything came from this? 

“I know what you mean, by the way,” he said in the quietness of the dorm. 

“About what?”

“Dying twice.” 

The stab wound in your heart reopened at his words. “I was standing on the bridge when that ddjaki guy came up to me,” he said. “I thought about ending it all. Who was I without my music? Okay, the money thing really affected me too, but not like how losing my passion did. It felt hard to make anything. Putting words to my feelings was hard, and it didn’t give me the same excitement it used to. It was like I’d already died, so big deal if I fell from the bridge?”

The confession surprised you. Thanos never struck you as the type to have that mindset. But, as you turned to look at him, you realized you weren’t talking to Thanos, the cocky rapper. You were seeing Choi Subong, a man who once had passions and dreams that became shattered in a single second. A lot like you. Snuggling to him, you put your head on his shoulder as he put an arm around you. You pictured him standing on the edge of the bridge, looking down at the water and contemplating everything that happened to him. He’d lost the lifestyle he worked so hard to achieve, and going back to the bottom was rough. 

“But, we’re both good rappers,” he said, “Maybe if we win this, we’ll get our money and our passion back.”

“And if we lose?”

“We’ll be dead and nothing will matter. So, that’s why I’m playing like I’m going to die anyways. If you play like that, you’re not scared.”

“Being high for most of it helps too,” you sneered, hand finding the cross laying nearby. 

“It does,” he chuckled. “Want one?”

“Sure,” you shrugged. 

Why did it matter? You’d already died once. Dying a second time wouldn’t be so bad. 

****

A/N: haha love that my first squid game fic is for Thanos. I have others on the way, but hope you enjoyed my first!

[thisonehere]

Thinking of you

Part 1 "A match made in Hell"

Part 2 to 4 (???)

Part 3

A/n: Ngl, I was pretty intimidated to write this. You all gave so many awesome ideas on what I could do in part 2, I'm honestly pretty scared this won't live up to them.

Tags: @maulsgf @sweetpanda18

C/w: slight angst, Bi-Han cries a little

Silence. That is all Bi-Han heard as he leaned back in his chair. It was evening time and he was alone in his office attending business, signing important papers and planning specific events for the Lin Kuei. He had gained so much new resources for his clan that he had so much to plan for. As he worked, he couldn't help but be distracted by the silence. It was so loud, and he thought of you. Normally you would wander into his office many times to pester him. You try to urge him to come to bed, try to bring him food, or just sit with him. Bi-Han never paid much mind to it, he often brushed you off. Insisted how much he needed for work, sometimes he would eventually relent to you, other times he wouldn't.

He had never noticed how silent the room was before, but now that you're gone. He hadn't noticed how dark the room was without your smile to brighten it. Nothing's been truly the same since you left. He hasn't been sleeping enough, not eating enough, when he's wounded he goes to the nurses now that you aren't here to tend to his wounds, they lack your gentle touch that makes him feel at ease. Bi-Han stares down at his desk and thinks about those stupid letters you'd leave on his desk. Nothing major, just a letter that would remind him to do certain things, to remember to smile, to remember to drink enough water, to remember how much you loved him.

Perhaps...perhaps he took them, took you, for granted. Bi-Han shook his head and rose from his chair and walked out of his office. He matched through the halls, the sound of his footsteps echoed off the walls. Lin Kuei passed by him and he passed many Lin Kuei, they all side eyed him. He heard whispering as he passed by. Some even so bold as to shoot a glare at him. It's been like this since you made such a big commotion before you left. So many are wondering what happened, some speculate that you had a big argument and you were going away to cool off, other suspect that you had divorced, some even theories that you just left on your first ever mission. All that knew was that you were gone, and when you left, for many it felt like you took the only bit of warmth and love in this place with you.

Bi-Han tried not to think about you, especially the moment when you left, it hurt to think about. It had only been 2 weeks since you had left, but he still thought about it like it was yesterday. He remembered your eyes, the hurt that was in there. He also remembered the distant glare in there, as you were done with it all, was done with him . "Why" he remembered your words.

"Why wasn't I good enough for you? What did I fail to do that a demon could? I-I love you, I'd kill for you, I'd die for you. Why wasn't I enough for you? You were enough for me... you're everything to me..."

Bi-Han let out a sigh as he made his way up a flight of stairs. You were being ridiculous, he thought to himself. You were enough for him, you always were...he just...wanted more. He huffed as he pushed through the door to that to his chambers. "You're back early." There he found her, Sareena, sprawled across the bed. A annoying part of him wished it was you there. She seemed to avoid your side. Maybe out of respect to you, or because she wanted to be on his side to annoy him, something you used to do...

Bi-Han just rolled his eyes and marched into the room, "I finished early." He lied with a grumbly voice. His eyes wandered over to your vanity, once broken now repaired. He remembered how you would spend hours perfecting your image in it's reflection, your always tried to get perfect for him, though you thought he hardly noticed, but he did. He always noticed when you did something new with your hair, if you wore a new lipstick, when you were proud of how good you looked.

"Move over." He growled. Sareena begrudgingly obliged and turned over just enough for him to lay down, but not enough for him to have a lot of space. With a sigh, he laid down next to her in the little space she offered. He could go over to your side, but he just couldn't. Whenever he did he thought too much about you, he could almost swear he could still smell your perfume in the sheets.

Thinking about you was something he tried to do less and less these days. He tried to close his eyes, maybe enjoy Sareena's warmth as he attempted to drift off. But as he closed his eyes, he saw you. It was as clear as day. He saw you, he saw your quaint smile as you laid your head on his chest during the cold nights at the Artika. He wasn't bothered by it, but you were so he would hold and try to keep you warm. He thought of your warmth and how you cutely shivered a little at some points and how he would you tighter and bury you and him under a pile of blankets. He hated remembering this, he was trying to forget you, but you found a way to haunt him even though you weren't dead.

"You know, I didn't know much about her before she left. But I just say, she bloomed the most beautiful flowers I have ever seen." He heard Sareena say finally. Bi-Han eyes shot open and there he saw Sareena holding a flower crown. "Give me that." He says as he quickly took it from her. You had decorated your hair with them to celebrate his return home, you always decorated your hair with flowers to celebrate. Bi-Han remembered how he imported the most exotic flowers he could find just because you showed an interest in them.

He had an entire garden created just for you. When you left your garden died. Bi-Han tried to tend to it, but he didn't have that much of a green dumb. He had managed to collect those flowers you were that night and turned them into a ring of flowers, he used a thin layer of ice to keep it a permanent state of frozen preservation. He cradled it gently in his hands as he thoughtfully looked at it. "You miss her?" Sareena asked as she turned to look up at him. "What? Of course not! She left me, I could not care about her! She-she isn't important to me anymore." Sareena just stared at him, a knowing smirk on her face. He saw the way she looked at him and he immediately felt the need to get defensive. "Y/n is nothing to me!" That only caused Sareena's smile to griw bigger.

That's bullshit, he could no doubt imagine she was thinking. Bi-Han's gaze falls to the ground. "She-she's nothing to me..." his voice was much more subdued, melanchoic and almost defeated. Sareena leaned in forward to Bi-Han. She softly plants a kiss on his forehead. "Get some sleep, okay?" She said softly, she laid her head down onto the pillow, your pillow, her black eyes flutter close and she began to snore sweetly as she went to sleep, if demons could sleep that is. But Bi-Han couldn't sleep, he just sat there and miserably looked down at his bedmate. "Y/n means nothing to me." He repeated to himself silently.

---

The next day wasn't much easier for Bi-Han, the Lin Kuei still stared at him with wonder and suspicion. Bi-Han was tired from a lack of sleep, he spent the night tossing and turning. He dreamt of you. He dreamt that everything was alright, that you were in your garden reading your favorite book as he laid his head in your lap and rested under you.

He awoke in darkness, Sareena was gone, to where? He didn't know. She often went missing for a certain amount of time, then she would randomly show up again. Bi-Han didn't care too much for this. Sareena seemed so cold and distant on so many days, hardly there, and when she was present, Bi-Han tried to enjoy his time with her. But something was missing. You are always a warm and welcoming thing about you, he often feels safe around you. With Sareena, he did not feel quite so safe. He often felt like he had to constantly prove himself to her, show her his strength and hope that it was enough to keep her around.

"You were enough for me... you're everything to me..."

"Bi-Han?" Kuai's voice snapped him out of his thoughts and back into the present. In his office having a meeting with his brothers to discuss future plans for the Lin Kuei. His face hardened as he stared down at his brother. "I'm fine!" He snapped. His brothers stared at him and stay silent this outburst. They have been silent towards Bi-Han a lot lately ever since you left. A firm of solidarity to you, and disappointment towards Bi-Han. It was bad enough that he went against Liu Kang and started to form alliances with dark forces for his gain, him betraying you crossed another for them.

Bi-Han cleared his throat, he reorganized the papers onto his desk. "Anyway...with the sisterhood of shadow, we can now--" the meeting went and Bi-Han started elaborating on all the plans he had for their new assets and allied. His brothers stayed quiet and just stared at him. Which annoyed Bi-Han. He wanted something, anything from his brother, some response, to give him any ideas, to yell at him or berate him, anything that would make him feel like he still had his brothers. "Alright." He leaned back into his chair and rubbed his temples. "If you have something to say to me, just say. We're men, not children. Pouting will get you nowhere."

"How could you do that to Y/n?" Tomas immediately sprung into action, as if he had been waiting for an opportunity to say it. "Tomas, please." Kuai tried to get Tomas to calm down, but he was obviously so riled up. "She loved you! She loved you when no one else could, a-and you did this to her! You're not the least bit ashamed? You don't feel any guilt at hurting the only one who truly loved you!?" Kuai placed a hand on his brother's shoulder, and this seemed to cause him to calm down. "What Tomas is trying to say is, we feel you dealt Y/n a unfair hand. This affair, it is horrible for everyone involved."

Bi-Han just let out a small huff as he rose from his chair. "I would suggest that both of you stay in your place. Especially you, Tomas. What me and Y/n are dealing with falls out of your concern." He calmly strolled over to the window, hands folded behind his back. This only riled Tomas more as he jumped to his feet. "What? Do you think that since you're a grandmaster that suddenly gives you the right to treat everyone else like this?" Kuai quickly rose to his feet and grabbed Tomas's shoulder again, this time with a little more force.

Bi-Han didn't answer, he just stared out the window. "Why? Why are you like this? Is this all you are, bitterness, cruelty, and dishonor? Did you ever even care Y/n? Did you even have the capacity to care for anyone other than yourself?" Bi-Han stayed silent. Tomas gritted his teeth, turned on his heels and marched out the door. Kuai turned to follow him, but before he walked out the door, he looked back at his brother, his eyes softened with disappointment. "Th-there is done truth in Tomas's words. Bi-Han, you wound me with your actions. As your brother I will always love you. But I cannot respect you anymore as Grandmaster." And with that, Kuai gently closed the door behind him.

Silence. With his brothers leaving, the room is flooded with defeating silence. He clenched his hands together and he pressed his eyes shut. Tomas is a fool and so is Kuai, he knows not what he talks about, Bi-Han thought. He began to shake slightly, his breath gets shaky as he presses his eyes tighter. Against his best efforts, a single tear falls down Bi-Han's cheek.

---

"You asked to see me?" It was later in the evening, Bi-Han had summoned one of his most competent Lin Kuei warriors to his office. "Yes." He said in a low voice. His eyes were slightly red, slightly puffy, but the warrior decided that it would be best not to question it. "I requested you here for a specific task, something that is important, something that I never thought I'd ask." The Lin Kuei leaned forward, eager to hear. "I need you to find my wife. I need you to bring her back to me."

A/n: In the next chapter we'll be seeing what Y/n's been up to since leaving

[space-mango-company]

Stranger | Chapter 2

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

TW: Descriptions of Violence, Mentions of Cannibalism

Tags: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader, Arranged Marriage, Eventual Smut (still not in this chapter lmao), No use of y/n, Original Characters, Canon what canon

Word Count: 2k

A/N: So... this was posted prematurely a couple hours ago. This is the actual finished longer version. If you don't know what I'm talking about, thank god. Sorry this took so long, lmao

Just letting you guys know that my knowledge of the lore is purely based off of the movies and the Dune wiki rabbit hole I fell into right after watching part two. I also took a few liberties with the canon here.

I'm super open to constructive criticism, or any criticism at all (feel free to absolutely roast me). Like I mentioned, I've never written fanfic before so I'd love to hear your thoughts!

The evening of your first day in Giedi Prime was celebrated with a banquet where you were introduced to the most important people on the planet. You've heard many stories of the ruthlessness and brutality of the Harkonnens, hence surprised by the courtly welcome during the dinner. Although you did your best to politely ignore the Baron who floated at the head of the table being fed by servants.

You were sat beside his nephew who, despite your mother's education, has evaded your insight. You couldn't quite get a read on him.

Feyd-Rautha whispers to you amid the buzzing conversations of the banquet hall, "are you enjoying the food, little hawk?"

You shoot him a questioning look.

"I like your hairpin," he sneers.

You resist from reaching to touch the Atreides symbol affixed in your hair.

"We don't see such ornaments often here." He quietly laughs in his devilish way, only too amused with himself.

Ah, you realize. He means to torment you.

"Seems early for pet names," you say, picking at your plate, "we've only just met."

"Oh, and yet we are to be wed in less than a week's time," his raspy voice rings in your ear, "I should like to be familiar with my future wife, Lady Atreides."

The marriage pact had been signed when you were only a little girl. Inheriting your father's inclinations, you swore you would uphold your duty, undeterred by the gruesome and abhorrent stories about the Harkonnens—because you knew that centuries of conflict could end within a generation with this union. You were a willing bride.

And yet.

You give him a smile that, to those not privy to your conversation, would seem genuine, "You know nothing of me, na-Baron."

"I should like to learn," you doubt his sincerity but care not enough to discern it. He takes a smug bite of a forkful of meat, "perhaps tomorrow, you shall learn something of me."

The following morning Iassa helps you into another black gown, this time with a veil in anticipation of the black sun.

"Is it not dangerous for Feyd-Rautha to wager his life for a show?" you question.

"The na-Baron is a skilled fighter, my lady. He will emerge victorious," Iassa is straight-faced as she drapes the veil over you.

"Yes, I do not doubt it, but given he is the Baron's heir. Does it not seem a touch irresponsible to even risk it at all."

Not that you actually cared for his life, you just expected that the Harkonnens would be concerned with the preservation of their house regardless of their brutality. You recall your grandfather who got himself killed fighting bulls for sport.

"The na-Baron will be fighting war prisoners. They will be drugged beforehand. It is perfectly safe, my lady."

"Oh." You couldn't decide if you were disappointed or not, "I see."

Iassa seemed intent on dropping the subject, so you do.

You stand before a mirror and take a look at yourself. It is impossible not to be reminded of your mother. She was never one for vanity, but you like to think there was a part of her that always enjoyed the elegant dresses she and you 'had' to wear. You allow yourself a somber smile behind your veil.

"You look beautiful, my lady," Iassa curtsies.

"Thank you," you look at her bowed figure, gray robes made more dull by the stark black choker on her neck. You were sure she was at least 2 standard years younger than you are and it had only been a few months since you came of age. You wondered if she liked pretty dresses too.

Before you can ask her, there is a knock at your door.

The house steward, Jaromir, clears his throat when Iassa opens it for you, "The na-Baron requests your presence before he enters the arena."

Heavy doors open for you in one of the chambers beneath the arena. You are greeted by the sight of a half-dressed Feyd-Rautha being helped into his armor by a servant.

"Lady Atreides," he looks you up and down, "I hope you slept well."

You bow your head in acknowledgment.

"Your knives, master," a large man whom you assume to be the bladesmith presents Feyd-Rautha with two daggers.

The young Harkonnen takes one and caresses the blade with his fingers.

"I've come to wish the brave na-Baron well before his fight in the arena," you say in false earnestness.

He smiles at your inflation of his ego.

"Though I must say, I am relieved it is all for show. I would not like to see my groom wounded before we are wed."

"For show?" Feyd-Rautha tilts his head and you see his arrogant facade show the slightest crack.

"Yes, I've heard your opponents will be drugged will they not?" your voice dripping with innocence, "to ensure your safety, of course."

His grip on the dagger tightens, "and where did you hear this exactly?"

You sense the awkwardness and tension in the servants. The one who had helped don Feyd-Rautha's armor has quietly retreated to the far side of the chamber. There is a subtle tremble in the hands of one holding a plate of towels. You finally notice the three women piled upon a raised platform glaring at you.

"Just voices around the fortress," you shrug.

A deep breath recovers Feyd-Rautha's smug expression. "Call for the warden," he orders one of the guards by the door, "tell him to prepare new prisoners. Sober ones."

"My lord, you need not endanger yourself," you feign worry.

"Nonsense." The na-Baron walks closer to tower over you, "My lady bride deserves to see my true prowess."

He sees through your challenge, but you don't care. Seeing his self-satisfied smirk wiped from his face for even just a second was worth it.

"Besides," he turns away from you to inspect the second knife, "my darlings enjoy meat that's fought for its life."

The three women sneer at this and you see their sharp teeth as they hiss amongst themselves.

You've heard of Feyd-Rautha's concubines long before you arrived on Giedi Prime. Tales of their taste for human flesh were one of the things that tested your resolve in fulfilling the marriage pact. You didn't mind that the na-Baron would keep other women. It would result in less of his attentions on yourself, you figured. It was their perverse appetite that nauseated you.

A look of revulsion hides behind your veil which you sense they would be all too happy to rip to shreds.

"I will see you in the stands, little hawk," Feyd-Rautha whispers to you as he waves for a guard to escort you out.

You do your best to drown out the noise of what seemed to be a countless audience that came to see the na-Baron fight. You could understand now why they uphold such brutal traditions. The people are so excited for it.

On the other side of the arena, you sense Vladimir Harkonnen watching you from the Baron's Box that towered over the whole arena. The blazing sun only helps you avoid looking in his direction. You were sat at a viewing box, still for nobility and separated from the masses, but much lower and closer to the sands of the arena. Jaromir had told you that you were to 'give the na-Baron your favor'.

Before long, the master of ceremonies announces Feyd-Rautha's entrance in Giedi Prime Speech. They are celebrating his betrothal to you and the union of Harkonnen and Atreides, you translate in your head. You wonder if the people care for the politics of the Great Houses. They seemed no less excited to cheer at your name despite the centuries-old blood feud.

Massive doors open as the na-Baron walks into the arena. His arms outstretched holding his knives like an extension of his limbs. He riles up the crowd as he walks towards the Baron's Box and kneels to his uncle. He then rises and walks toward you, smirking under the stark light of the black sun.

You may not fear earning the Harkonnens' contempt, but you were the Duke of Caladan's daughter and you knew that the favor of the people was invaluable.

You stand and walk to the edge of the viewing box. The glowing smile you reveal as you lift your veil draws cheers from the crowd that rival what Feyd-Rautha received. You produce a pure white handkerchief from your dress pocket and make a show of kissing it and waving the cloth at the buzzing crowd. You throw it off the edge and it floats toward the na-Baron who had moved both daggers to one hand to catch it. He looks up at you with what you think could be the seeds of respect and tucks the cloth into the tight armband around his right bicep.

He turns back to the audience and raises his knives in a war cry. The crowd explodes in guttural cheers and applause. Feyd-Rautha takes his position in the middle of the arena as his first opponent is released into the white sands.

You've heard of the Harkonnen heir's aptitude in single combat. It's time to see if the stories were true or if it was just another part of their menacing facade.

You were handed a pair of spyglasses to observe with. The two fighters approach each other, the prisoner wielding a knife of his own. Feyd-Rautha holds a taunting stance. The prisoner was sober, you were sure, but even without the spyglasses, you could see he was weak. You surmised the Harkonnen cells weren't very hospitable. He attempts a swipe but the na-Baron parries with ease. Another and the na-Baron dodges. Zooming in, you could see Feyd-Rautha's twisted amusement. He was toying with the poor man—and the people loved it.

The crowds cheered at the clashing of metal, thundering when the na-Baron drew first blood by slashig his opponent's arm. It wasn't long before Feyd-Rautha's dagger had impaled the prisoner's heart. There was no pause before a second prisoner was brought out to meet a similar fate.

Feyd-Rautha stood unwounded, seething with exhilaration. He enjoyed this; the thrill of killing. He basked in the roar of the crowd. You had never ended a life before, but some deep part of you could almost understand how he felt in that moment.

A third prisoner enters the arena. He looked older than the first two, bearded and taller. He reminded you of Gurney Halleck, the Atreides Warmaster. This man certainly wasn't at his prime but you could tell he would not go down as easily as the first two.

The warrior holds his blade out in a firm fighting stance, refusing to make the first move. You notice picadors in black suits have entered the arena, circling the na-Baron and his opponent. Feyd-Rautha lunges at the prisoner and a quick series of parries from both sides occur. You see the finesse in the na-Baron's movement. He recognizes his opponent's skill and he is taking this one seriously. You were not sure what you expected of the Harkonnen's fighting style but Feyd-Rautha was vicious but precise. The crowd gasps when the prisoner disarms one of the na-Baron's knives. The warrior manages to get a grip on Feyd-Rautha's armed hand and aims to pierce the na-Baron's neck with his blade. The na-Baron struggled against his hold and the arid air was thick with anticipation.

You were unsure what outcome you desired as you stared through your spyglass. Perhaps this warrior kills your betrothed. What then? Would you really be able to go back to Caladan's windy cliffs again? Return to the arms of your mother as if it were all a bad dream? You wonder if when Feyd-Rautha becomes baron, and you his baroness, could you convince him to let you see your family.

The warrior's blade was dangerously close to your future husband's throat when one of the picadors lashes at the warrior. The na-Baron growls at the offending picador as the warrior is weakened. Feyd-Rautha pushes him off and allows him a moment to recover, taunting him to try again. Blades clash once more and after a sequence of quick ferocious movements, Feyd-Rautha's blade slashes the warrior's throat. Blood made black by the infrared of the sun splatters onto the na-Baron. He licks the darkness that landed on his lips. Heaving, he takes your bloodied handkerchief off his armband and raises it to you and the roaring crowd.

You did not even realize you were already standing, breathless at the sight.

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

Taglist: @torchbearerkyle @austinswhitewolf @dreamlandcreations @emeraldsgirl @strawberryfieldsforevermore

[merriepy]

EMPTY HEART

•. Leon S. Kennedy x gn!reader

tags: angst, hurt/comfort

cw: /

summary: After not seeing Leon - your boyfriend - in over a month, you start to re-evaluate your relationship with him

a/n: I took so long to finish that one, I'm so sorry; no third person pronouns used for the reader; no specific Leon mentioned but written with his re4r-version in mind + reader is < 30

words: 2,7k

The apartment always seemed so very empty when he wasn't around. So very quiet. So very lifeless.

Him potentially dying was the only thing in your mind when he wasn't by your side. Maybe the uncertainty made these thoughts so unbearable. You knew nothing about him, and he was your partner. The word fiancé had only crossed your mind ever so slightly whenever he laid next to you in bed, which wasn't very often since he was out most of the time.

He worked for the government. That's the only concrete thing you knew. The rest was what you had pieced together via reading classified information he left laying around in the apartment (he wasn't the most organized kind of guy) and through the very limited amount of things he told you. In moments of weakness.

Leon hadn't been home in over a month. Fighting bioweapons. Or something. You didn't know what it specifically meant but it definitely sounded dangerous. And it was. While he wouldn't return visibly wounded, you would always new soft scars on his already wounded skin, telling the story of who he was and what his life had turned him into. He would leave on short notice and just return one day without ever contacting you during his leave. You've gotten used to waking up alone, well aware that we might not ever return from his mission. But orders were orders and you knew that even if he wanted to, he couldn't stay with you for his job had to be his top priority.

You had placed down the controller on the coffee table in front of your sofa. Playing videogames did not turn out to be enough of a distraction from the matter at hand, and both everything related to your own job and household chores had already been done. The pressure had made the air unbreathable so you had tried to pull your body over to the balcony to get some fresh oxygen, yet your limbs didn't move. Saying that your relationship with Leon had some negative side effects as well would be an understatement. It was terrible whenever he was gone, knowing that you, his partner, future fiancé even, knew so little about him and had no control over all the dangerous things he was put through was more than awful.

But you appreciate whenever he was with you, laying next to you in bed and his random little signs of affection that had made you fall in love with him. The sacrifices would be worth in the end if he was able to survive all of his jobs, if the two of you would be able to hold hands and finally seal your bond in marriage.

Though his dangerous job wasn't the only thing bothering you. To be fair, this particular point was a you-problem so you would never bring it up anywhere but your so tightly sealed own realm. But you were jealous. Of his co-workers. The fact they're able to seem him so much more often than you, that they knew so much more about him;

though worst was the thought that he could be honest with them. He didn't have to hide anything from them and it ate away at your heart like a wolf feasting on its prey.

Doubts would cross your mind, whether you truly knew Leon. Why would he prefer to spend time with you if he could have someone who he could be true to, someone who was able to understand his struggles on a level you yet could only hope to reach one day.

These thoughts circled through your head on a daily, and they didn't seem to stop; even when he was with you, hugging you in his sleep.

You weren't a noble person, if he was ready to commit to you despite having better alternatives you would take him any day, just because you couldn't remotely stand the thought of him being with another person. Perhaps it was selfish, but you preferred that way more than seeing him leave because you told him to.

The clock strikes 11.

You finally moved up from the couch and gazed through the endless night sky. You read a quote once. 'As long as we live under the same night sky and see the same stars, we will always be united.' It made you wonder if you were truly living under the same sky as Leon because it surely didn't feel like it. He was somewhere, but you weren't. You were here, without him. And he was out on a mission with someone, and that someone wasn't you.

As you finished giving into the thoughts in your head, you went ahead on your normal evening routine including closing all the windows, turning off all the lights and preparing your outfit for the next day. With each passing day you tried harder and harder to avoid looking up at the very few pictures of you and him hung up on the walls for it brought to much pain. You've gotten good at it, rushing by as the dead eyes of the picture stared at you relentlessly.

The last light had been turned off and you were just about to go to sleep as you felt way too exhausted to actually take care of tomorrow's choice of clothing when you suddenly heard the door open up. You knew that realistically it would be Leon but the small thought that it could be a robber who conveniently had the key to your front door and just walked in like nothing did linger in your mind, so you quickly entered the closest room and waited for sounds. Fear traveled through your body as you couldn't hear anything anymore. No steps, no doors opening, no nothing. As you instinctively hid behind the door so you wouldn't immediately be seen when being opened, you heard the doorknob being twisted.

A hard, bright light entered through the soft crack in the door though you knew that you had turned every last light off. You paid attention to the shadow forming on the floor as the person stepped through the door. "(Y/N)? Is everything.. alright?" you heard your partner's voice as he walked into the room. You moved away from the behind the door, slightly upset. "Oh my god Leon, you could've just immediately said something when you entered! I was so scared that you were some criminal breaking in!" You stared into his beautiful, blue eyes and despite the anger towards him and the entire situation surrounding him and his work, you could help but be glad that he was finally with you again.

He took a few steps back to turn the light switch on and the flashlight of his phone off. His silhouette was now a lot clearer and you couldn't see any visible wounds on his face and arms which was a big relief. Though he seemed tired and definitely mentally exhausted. "I just thought something might be wrong," he replied before pulling you into a deep hug. "I'm sorry, darling." You felt his chin resting on your head as he carefully moved his hands over your back. "I've missed you so fucking much, you know that?"

You bit your tongue, quite literally, as you remembered the jealousy that had eaten you up during this time of separation and desperation. But you would never tell him, it was a you problem after all, and he seemed to care so deeply since he didn't let you go and only tightened his hug the longer it continued. It seemed so genuine and real, and it almost convinced your irrational head that he was the one though you knew deep down that it couldn't be swayed. Irrationality, after all.

He had only reluctantly pulled away from you and made sure to place a soft kiss on your cheek before giving you a little room to breathe. "We should go the bedroom. It's late after all, and I have to go to work tomorrow," you suggested as you tried to examine the parts of his body that were revealed to you, making sure he really wasn't injured and you didn't miss anything; and maybe, just maybe, that irrational part of yours was looking for something else as well. "Do you need to eat or something? I maybe have some leftovers in the fridge." He shook his head. "Don't worry, I'm not hungry." "What about your stuff?" "In my trunk. I'll get it out tomorrow." You nodded. "I'll just quickly go to the bathroom and change my clothes. I'll be right with you, darling."

You had made your way from your hiding spot, which you had now identified to be the kitchen, over to the bedroom the two of you shared. It was mostly decorated by you, since you arguably spent a lot more time there than Leon. It filled you with sadness, remembering all the negative things you felt during his absence, and anger, since you now couldn't enjoy his return because of it. You didn't want to experience all of this negativity but it was so much and it didn't seem to stop. The bedsheets felt weirdly cold tonight so you had no desire to burry yourself into them. You were just laying on top of it in starfish position, waiting for the door to open once more. You heard the sound of the city's night life unfolding below your apartment which during this particular time felt somewhat comfortable.

Leon had entered the room not shortly after. He was shirtless and just wore boxer shorts, like he always did for sleeping. He smiled as he saw how you were stretched out on the bed. Before you could move away on your own, he had already picked you up and moved you again so carefully to the side. He was being so extra soft today. Once he had stopped adjusting his position next to you, you took the chance to reach out your hand to caress his cheek, something you had longed to do for so long. As your fingers touched his skin your partner closed his eyes, breathing calmly. "Your hair grew a little bit?" "Don't be silly, it hasn't been long enough for it to grow." "It's been over a month." Saying it out loud. 'It's been over a month.' You couldn't really hide the pain that tagged along in your voice, showing him the surface of your current state of mind.

You wanted to pull your hand away from his cheek, but Leon had stopped you. He had placed his own on yours before placing kisses on your fingers. "I didn't know it had been that long. All I know was that I missed you." His voice sounded so weak and now you felt bad that you were ever doubting him. He seemed so genuinely sad about not being able to be by your side. "It's okay," you comforted him before moving a little closer. You softly placed your lips on his, pulling him to a quick kiss. "I need to wake up in a few hours though," you stated as you turned around to set your alarm for the morning. "So let's talk in the morning. Surely you're not gonna immediately leave again the next day," you joked and even though it was meant to come off as one your tone was awfully serious. And in your mind it was, since you were on the edge whenever he was around due to the uncertainty whether or not we would still be there during the next morning. He knew your stance on this matter but just chuckled along. "Yeah, let's hope."

Leon had reached his arms out with an apologetic look on his face. He had these puppy eyes, always looking so genuinely sad and hurt. You couldn't help yourself and snuggled into his arms, burying your face in his chest in the process. This feeling was something you wished to experience on the daily but it simply wasn't possible, so you tried to be satisfied with what you had. His hand trailed over your head ever so slightly and the kisses he had placed on your arm that was wrapped around his neck shortly after were warm and full love. You knew that he wanted to make it up to you and it made you happy, seeing how he cared despite the questionable circumstances.

Feeling his arms around you gave you the comfort you needed to finally get some proper rest, a proper rest away from all the negative thoughts that had haunted you before. Now that he was with you, everything else felt obsolete.

It was the same, every single time.

He would leave, you would be mad. You would have negative thoughts regarding him and you relationship, he would return before things would get out of hand. You would be content when he was around, he would leave again.

You knew it wasn't his fault. Leon had lost everything and forced into positions he didn't want to be in with no choice of his own. His fingers moving down your curves pushed all the negativity away. "(Y/N).." he mumbled sleepily as he pressed his body as close as physically possible against yours. "I love you. Please, never leave me." Something kept you from responding, maybe it were all these weird fears somewhere in your mind, or maybe because you knew he wasn't yet done talking. "I wish I could be with you every day and leave all of this behind. But I promise I'll make it up to you eventually." His head was deeply buried in-between your neck and shoulder, seeking in this familiar feeling of your skin. "Once this is all over we'll get married, and I'll be the best husband you could ever imagine."

You had to stay strong and keep the tears in for now. Thoughts circled through your mind like crazy. He must be apologising because he cheated, because he had to convince himself not to leave you, because he just wanted to keep you by his side for fun. You didn't want to think any of this, you wanted to believe that he loved you as deeply as he made it seem. A weak kiss followed his words before he closed his eyes. You only now noticed that he thought you were asleep this whole time. And you liked to keep it that way.

Leon only had you on his mind during his absence. A picture of you was in his pocket 24/7 and he always liked to look at it during moments of extreme despair. No other person could cheer him up as much as you did. That's why he knew he wanted to marry you one day. It was the only right thing to do.

You knew so too.

Though acceptance was hard those days. You didn't want to end up with a dead husband in the next few years, that prospect frightened you, yet you knew that if the day would come where you would stand before his casket, you'd regret not making him yours.

"You want me to be your wife?" you asked, hoping that he hadn't yet fallen asleep. His grip tightened ever so slightly around your waist. "I wanted to wait," he admitted quietly. His broken, soft voice reminded you of the Leon you had met those years ago, the aspiring policeman, "until this is all over but... this will be the rest of my life. I want to give you the chance to drop out if you don't want to commit to a life like this." He kissed your neck weakly. "I want you so much. It's so selfish but I can't imagine my future without you."

In the darkness of your bedroom, you searched for his lips. Your fingers softly trailed over them, sealing them shut before you replaced your fingers with your own lips. The kiss was loving, not passionate or anything but it meant so much more to you than pure lust. A single tear left your eye, which was quickly wiped away by Leon's hand.

"Never leave me darling," he mumbled into the kiss before quickly grasping for air. "I would never," you replied as you kissed him on his forehead. "You're my fiance after all."

[animeyanderelover]

Ahhh, had the same shit last year and I'm surprised I survived it was smth 😭 Fast recovery to you! Glad you're feeling better alr 🙏

Lemme jump into the ranking event – Risotto, Ghiaccio, Prosciutto and Melone (JJBA), who in your opinion will get along with nonchalant, accepting darling quicker/who will be the most paranoid ab darlings behaviour?

Best wishes to you again, take care ❤️‍🩹

Tags: @simplydlightfuldestiny @flaming-vulpix

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional behavior, paranoia, isolation, abduction

Ranking Event

Melone

🍉Melone would be the one person who would most definitely adapt the quickest to a nonchalant darling. Whilst there is definitely a valid point that he would be one of the creepier guys to have from Risotto’s group, in his own way Melone is actually quite chill. What he loves are the games though, Melone knows that he’s being weird and he relishes in that simple fact. He loves his games to see how much he can creep you out and not even he would have initially assumed that he would find you so interesting despite your rather indifferent attitude. That isn’t to say that he stops messing around, curious to find out where your limits are and if he can break them. Otherwise there is this foreign emotion of giddiness that just settles in as Melone now simply basks in the fact that he can be so openly weird in front of you and you’ll still love him for it. He’s all touchy and constantly gushes over you, constantly pinches your cheeks as he gets cuteness aggression. There’s actually a lot of freedom to gain with being as nonchalant as you are. Melone puts that trust in you as he allows you to roam around freely and that even without tracking you, a sign of high trust.

Prosciutto

🟡Prosciutto doesn’t trust easily and considering his position, perhaps it is understandable why he feels that way. After all regular civilians do not hold the mafia in very high regards so your natural behavior is all confused as an act at first. It sounds quite plausible after all in his mind, that you would try to butter up to him so that you can gain his trust and use it against him eventually. He does not speak those thoughts out loud though. First of all because he wants to catch you in your act and second of all because speaking it out loud would make it more painful. After all even though he can logically understand where you are coming from it would still hurt him to admit out loud that he thinks that you’re merely acting to run away from him. So he just waits for the shoe to drop and for you to slip up and expose your real intentions. That’s why he refuses to let his heart get swayed by and affection that you initiate from your side, always reminding himself that he should not fall for your trick. As time passes by he would slowly reconsider if his suspicions were falsely placed and would allow you little acts of freedom all too see if you are being sincere or just a skilled actress.

Risotto Nero

📎Years of being an assassin have taught Risotto to never let his guard down even if the situation appears to be safe. The same strategy can be applied to how he approaches a relationship with a darling as nonchalant as you are. Sure, you may not look like you are being insincere but the eyes can deceive. Similar to Prosciutto, Risotto won’t voice his suspicion out to you as he instead lurks around and waits for that moment where you do a mistake and he gets to expose you. He expects it as you have every reason to deceive him. After all he is part of the Mafia whilst you are just a normal civilian who probably expected a very different life in comparison to what you face now. Your every word and even the minuscule twitch of your muscles is observed intently all as he searches for hints to prove that you are not being sincere with him. Risotto doesn’t allow his heart to soften when you express your affection when with him all to not grow weak. It takes a long time for him to slowly start believing that you are being sincere and are actually not lying to him. Usually he values a rational approach over the emotional one, hence why it takes so long for him to accept the idea that you genuinely love him.

Ghiaccio

🌨️Ghiaccio would be the one to struggle the most with a nonchalant darling all because his temper is so terribly all over the place. What he feels for you is very intense and so out of his control that he can barely regulate himself around you, an issue that he has already in his daily life without your involvement. Ghiaccio is in the truest sense of the word a ticking time bomb and that definitely comes to bite you back as he lashes out on you even when you have technically done nothing wrong. Whenever he is irritated or stressed because of something, his brain tends to overanalyse the situation which is exactly how and why he accuses you of only trying to lull him into a false sense of security. After all why else would you be so compliant with this entire situation if not due to trying to lie to him and to use him? One glance into a wrong direction could be enough to set him off when he is in such a mood, leading to you sitting on the couch whilst he is busily yelling at you and accusing you of things you have never done before. Even if there is some progress being made, the moment he relapses it all starts over again which is why patience is the key trait that is needed.