#he will be drawn in purple again. however.

[scudevils]

baby, it’s cold outside — JB9

pairing: joe burrow x fem!reader

warnings: smut, morning breath doesn’t exist, established relationship, pwp, swearing, not proofread!!

inspired by: “baby it’s cold outside” by dean martin [2.3k]

a/n: ew i hate the ending okay i can never write them 😔😔

joe would never deny his hatred of the cold, from playing in it to simply just feeling it, he hated the way it nipped at his skin, leaving his hands red and sore, the way his face flushed. you, however, found it adorable, when he flashed up on the big screen and his cheeks had turned a pretty pink, the tip of his nose starting to look like rudolph.

a winter storm had sure set in for the night, your bedroom window frosted over as the pale morning sun reflected off of the snow outside, glistening like shining jewels across the grass, although you knew it’d be a pain to clean off of the car, the picture was so winter wonderland it was worth the hassle in your eyes.

winters in cincinnati were rough for him, he still hadn't adapted to the below 10 mornings in the years he'd been with the team, instead seeking your comfort and warmth in the bed you shared before his early practices, never wanting to leave the safe space of his covers in the morning, savouring it as he dragged himself to the shower, where for some reason he refused to had warm morning showers, even when you joined them with him.

you felt his stirring in his sleep, already been awake for at least half an hour with his arm still wrapped loosely around your waisg, always an early riser despite the later sun rises you were getting, your room still covered in a blanket of darkness despite the time on the alarm clock reading 6:58 am in bold, due to go off any minute to wake joe up for practice, and whilst you had the luxury of going back to sleep, he did not, so you were left to your own thoughts.

in the corner of the room, a small decorated tree stuck out in your thoughts, a smile tugging on your lips at the memory of getting it with him when you'd first moved in together two years ago, and thereafter decorating it together, your first christmas seeming so long ago like a blur in your mind. your vanity in the other corner of your room was adorned with other decorations, the picture of you and joe at your first christmas tree lighting in high school together front and centre.

your attention fell back to the sleeping man beside you, his hand subconsciously with a grip on your hip, still deep in whatever dream he was having as you could make out his eyebrows furrowing in the rays of the rising sun that reflected in through the open drawn curtains. down his neck and along his collarbone you caught a glimpse of the marks from the night before, purple and red bruises littering the taut skin, scratch marks travelling over his shoulder and down his back.

mornings together like these were easily up there as the favourite part of your relationship with joe, you both had busy lives, so it was always special to you to have time spent together wether asleep or not. neither of you had any other need than staying close to the other, the gentle rise and fall of his chest soothing you almost to sleep again. just on time, his alarm sounded in the background, feeling him pulling you closer into him as he let out a tired groan, unhappy that he'd been brought out of his peaceful slumber.

tiredly, you left soft kisses across his bare skin, making his waking up at least a little bit more manageable, tilting your head to look up at him when you reached his chest, a small smile forming on your lips as you noticed the tip of his nose had turned a light pink, the coldness in the air wasn't missed by him as he brought the duvet further up your bodies.

the hand you had draped over joe's midriff moved to trace over his bare chest, feeling the goosebumps raising on his skin from the coldness in your touch, the heat of his body quickly fighting it off as you felt the muscles contracting under your light touch when your touch went lower. you tried to bring your hand lower down his body, the feeling of his grabbing your wrists held you back, reactions still quick despite his tired state.

"just wanna warm you up." you said innocently, unconvincingly apparently , as joe finally opened his eyes to meet yours, the mischievousness hiding in plain sight behind them. teasingly, giving him a kiss on the cheek as he leant in, his lips slightly cold at first, warming up quickly against your own as his hand crawled its way up and down your leg, a slight squeeze of your ass when he got there before resting it back on your hips.

he had brought your leg up to sit on his hip, the motion having him so close you could feel his entire body against you, the heat radiating off him. the action also allowed him to deepen the kiss, his tongue pushing past your lips as you let him take control, pulling you on top of his body, legs straddling his hips now. from your position now, you could see the corners of the windows had began to frost, the sight of snow undeniable as the sun reflected off of its bright surface. there was still a chill in the air, bringing the covers up to cover your body as you sat over him.

you lightly traced your finger down his face, the one you shamelessly loved to look at so much, the one you looked for in the stadium from your seat and he looked back. the eyelashes you'd always been jealous of framed his eyes perfectly, even as he held them sleepily open, his eyes were mesmerising, forcing you to hold eye contact with him.

there was no way you could talk about how much you loved his face without mentioning his lips - ones that have explored your own and your body only hours ago - you swore he's memorised his way around by now. his bottom lip slightly juts you graze it with your thumb, watching it fall back into place when you let go.

"did i not tire you out enough last night?" for the first time that morning, you're blessed with his morning voice, raspy and deep and deep and one you're sure you'll never get sick of, wanting to hear it every morning for the rest of your lift, a christmas present from him.

you lean closer to him, muscular arms wrapping around your back to hold you secure as you did so, lips just barely grazing joes ear. "could never get tired of you, joey."

just barely, you could hear him swearing under his breath, absentmindedly rolling your hips down against him with the grip he had on you, heat rushing to your cheeks as a small moan escaped your lips from the friction. "you're gonna be the death of me, baby." he muttered to you under his breath, smiling at him teasingly, you gave an experimental grind of your hips, wanting to see how much control he was willing to give you.

he lifted you off of him slightly, the pair of boxer shorts you'd stole from him that now acted as sleep shorts, off in an instant and you were back down on him, the pair of basketball shorts he'd been wearing pulled down just enough to free his cock. "gotta head to practice soon, we're gonna have to be quick." you knew if it was up to him he'd have you both locked in the room, tangled up in your bedsheets together, spending the rest of the day in each others arms, but he unfortunately didn't have time on his side.

you craved his touch, feeling his semi-hardon against you since the moment you'd woken up, feeling the way his hips subconsciously rutted against your ass, and you'd be a liar to say that it didn't turn you on that he wanted you in his dreams just as much as he wanted you awake. a prolonged whine fell from your lips as he bottomed out inside of you, about to drag your hips in a rocking motion when you pressed your hand against his chest.

with less than a second to react, he pressed his lips against yours, the kiss far too intense for a quick morning make out, had your head spinning, the slow drag of his hips slipping a moan from your lips into his mouth. tracking down your jaw and neck, his lips left dark purple marks in their wake in various sizes and shades. you whined as he bit into the soft skin at the base of your neck, soothing the stinging with his tongue.

"fuck joey, thought we had to be quick." your words were breathless, absentmindedly grinding your hips down to meet his and you could feel him deep inside of you, his hands not providing you with aid as he made you do the work to get yourself there, instead running his tongue along your collarbone as he made a mess of your chest with hickey's, in places only his eyes would see, driving him even more feral for you.

“can always take my time with you.” he confessed, lips brushing against your ear as he spoke, the hands that hadn’t helped you before now rested on your hips, keeping you at a steady space, occasionally thrusting up to meet your rhythm but with the most part letting you take your time.

you could feel one of his hands move from your hip, his large palm finding its way to the inside of your thigh and giving the soft flesh a squeeze before his hand grazed over your cunt, a small moan escaping your lips as your head dropped to the hollow part of his shoulder. his thumb toying with your clit as you clenched around him. “fuck, can feel your close, baby.”

you were only able to respond with a short hum, pleading and whining at him to give you more when he began to take over your hips, moving them against him quicker now, someone feeling him deeper inside of you, like he was hitting every spot that had your eyesight fogging and toe’s curling from the pleasure. “shit, joe,” you could feel your orgasm building, practically knocking at the door as your bodies moved against each other.

his hands roamed all over your body as if he was exploring it for the first time, the cold tips of his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass as he held you down against him, stopping your movements before he begun thrusting up into you, the pleasure overwhelming as you fell against his chest, one of his hands coming to cup your breast, squeezing the flesh and rolling your hardened nipple between his fingers before giving the same attention to the other. “you’re so beautiful, baby.”

you could hear the roughness in his voice, driving you more crazy for him than you already were, as you took back a little more of the control as your hips connected with his faster, the sound of skin on skin filling the room, long forgotten was the winter chill as you took solace in each others bodies, the time on the clock already reading that he’d be late for practice if he didn’t get up now, but he couldn’t have cared less, his attention fully on you as his blue eyes pierced yours, you could see how he was holding himself back, waiting for you to finish before he did and rhe sentiment alone drove you absolutely feral.

the sight of you on top of him was almost too much for him to control himself, the blissed out state on his face becoming more apparent as you clenched around him when his thumb found your clit against, quickening against the sensitive spot and it finally had you tumbling over the edge, your body falling flat against joe’s, the only reason your hips continued moving was because of his hands, working you through it as he whispered sweet nothings in your ear, a low guttural groan falling from his lips as he finished inside of you.

his hands wrapped around your back, pulling you against his chest as your hands fell comfortably on his shoulders, the tension in your body gone and you whined as he slid out of you slowly, a comforting hand rubbing up and down your back as the cold air began to bite at you again, the quiet a welcomed state.

you stayed like this for a few minutes, joe making the first move to get up as he went and got a towel to clean you up, and you heard him from the bathroom as he let out a “fuck i’m gonna be so late.” after finally reading the time on the alarm clock.

[kenzan-kiwami]

one more for the road

[mountkennedie]

Late Nights

Edward Cullen x reader

Summary: you have a cozy night with edward

warnings: none

A.N. this quickly became one of my favorite fics ever written

"Edward?" You asked. Currently you splayed out horizontally on your bed on a cool fall day. The sweater you were wearing provided you an extra dose of comfort to the general energy of the room. Edward, your boyfriend, was laid parallel to you. His dark blue sweater matched yours. The color coordinating plaid fleece pajamas were also a nice touch on the pair of you. It was something cute you've always wanted to do, couple twinning. And Edward was willing to do whatever to make you happy.

"Yes?" He maintained a easy going smile while looking at you. You had been rereading A Wrinkle In Time. An easy read of course, but always put your mind at peace. Edward didn't have a book to read or really anything to pass time. He says he is perfectly content in your company, but you still wonder what he would be doing had you not been here. Probably pressing those same piano keys in infinite rhythms until disturbed.

"What is your favorite color?" A very innocent question. But what is the harm in that? The both of you have shared some crushing memories and experiences, you may as well know the mundane as well.

His smile grew and his eyebrows knitted. "Blue. Why do you ask?" He didn't have a genuine serious undertone behind the question. He was always trying to learn the way you were. Being unable to read your mind made you a puzzle he reveled in attempting to crack. Every time he would expect you to act in a certain way, you gave him a surprise in return.

"I was curious," you turn on your side and face him. Edward being Edward, he mirrors you. "You seem like a lover of blue. But I could also see a deep green. Like forest green," your voice was kept quiet. The wind looting the leaves can still be heard as you speak. You didn't need to speak so soft, your family was away for the night. You could scream for all that mattered, however keeping a small vocal presence felt appropriate. Anything louder than a calm word would be disturbing the peace of the environment.

His face pinched up for a moment, but then returned to his normal expression. "I fell out of love for green a long while ago. Blue is so rarely seen here, at least in the sky," he finished that quip with a cheesy smile. "Blue being rare has given itself a new place of importance," his eyes glanced down to your sweater then back into you, "in my heart."

Your bodies both hanged off different ends of the bed, luckily your heads were in the same placement. So when you lifted your hand to rest on his cheek, it wasn't a far reach. Your thumb brushed the cool skin, Edwards eyes never left yours for a moment. The golden iris' were filled with adoration. His hand came to rest on yours. The chill adding to the comfort he was already bestowing.

"What do you think mine is?" You whispered.

"Purple, for sure," he answered without even thinking. And of course he was right.

"Asking Alice counts as cheating," he leaned into your hand and chuckled. The kiss he left on the palm made you smile a little harder than you already had been.

"I didn't cheat," he spoke into your hand. "Everywhere we go shopping, your eyes are drawn to the same three colors. Green, black and purple, with a special affinity for purple. Oh and you wear a lot of purple in the pictures of you on your family's mantle."

"Am I that easy to read?" He pressed another kiss to your palm. He shook his head lightly at your comment.

"If only," he joked. After his joke the wind picked up outside, this time accompanied by a steady flow of rain. You sat up and looked at him, he copied you once again.

"If you ran home fast enough, how wet would you be? Would you even get wet?" He listened to your questions while helping fix your hair that had flattened due to laying down.

"Well I would get wet regardless. Probably not too bad but definitely damp." He finished his work and pulled you close to him so your entire body faced him. "And is this your way of kicking me out?" He chuckled again at his smart remark.

"It is very thoughtful that you worry on the safety of a hundred year old vampire." He placed a kiss to your eyelid, "I'd be sure not to run too fast. And I am fully comfortable staying in for the night. But," his voice matched your previous tone, "you must sleep tonight. I want 8 full hours."

"No you are staying." You threw your arms over his shoulders, your faces a few inches apart. "I don't want you outside, especially running in this weather. The roads are slippery," your tone changed to one more serious.

"I was going to sleep!" you argued. "...once I finished the next chapter of my book," you hoped the small smile you sent him would win him over.

"Of the book you've reread numerous times?" You didn't respond, only looked at him and shrugged. "Fine," he always gave in to you. "At least let me read it to you."

You smiled and got comfortable under your covers. You pulled back your comforter for him to join you underneath. He smiled and shook his head. But still wanting to do whatever makes you happy, climbed in. You clung onto his arm, he responded by kissing your head. You were convinced he read the book in a soft, quiet voice on purpose. Because no matter how strong your will to finish the chapter, you still were whisked away into sleep.

[mydearestbeloved]

Chapter 21 [Draft]

Sung Jinwoo/Trial Player!Reader

CW:

Inspired by @circeyoru ‘s “Future Power Couple”

[Masterlist🦋✨️]

Jinwoo watched you closely as he and his shadows continued their meticulous task of destroying the ant eggs and any stragglers still lurking in the nest. His soldiers, as efficient as ever, moved like an unstoppable tide, bolstered by the shimmering aura of your butterflies. Among the usual flurry of colors, Jinwoo's attention was drawn to one distinct silver—the butterfly that previously hovered near Hunter Cha, never straying far.

He frowned slightly, wracking his brain.

What was its name again? Till? No, that’s not it. Trix? Close, but no. Tick-tack-toe? Wait, what the hell? How does she even remember all of their names in the first place?" He huffed quietly, shaking his head.

He saw you gently cradle the silver butterfly in one hand, a soft smile gracing your lips as the other hand rummaged through your inventory. With practiced ease, you summoned several items that floated around you, suspended in midair. Jinwoo recognized the shimmer of a polished silver gem and the ornate design of a potion bottle filled with liquid that shifted hues between vibrant purple and fiery orange-yellow. The faint golden glow illuminated the items as if presenting them like treasures.

To his surprise, the objects dissolved into a flurry of white butterflies—tinier, ethereal creatures that resembled particles of light more than living beings. They swirled around the silver butterfly before settling into the air above the ground in front of you. Jinwoo squinted as the radiant light seemed to change shape.

When the glow subsided, he found himself staring at a kneeling figure—a woman clad in a ensemble of black and white. The design was elegant and sleek, resembling the human form Red had taken when Jinwoo first met her, yet distinct in its details. The most noticeable feature was the overlay of silver butterfly wings extending behind her, creating an effect akin to an outer skirt or flowing coattails.

Jinwoo watched as you reached out and patted the woman’s head with a fond smile.

“You’ve done well, Trick,” you said softly, your voice full of warmth.

Ah, so that’s its—her name, Jinwoo mused, filing it away in his memory.

---

Later, you watch as Jinwoo summoned the former Ant King and officially welcomed him into his legion by bestowing upon him the name Beru. The newly minted shadow bowed before his master with a deep sense of reverence, his antennae twitching in anticipation.

As you approached, Jinwoo nodded at you in acknowledgment—a subtle greeting that you returned with ease—then turned back to the task of coordinating his soldiers. To your surprise, however, Beru bowed deeply in your direction.

You raised an eyebrow, a flicker of curiosity passing over your face. “Why do you bow to me?” you asked, your tone calm but inquisitive. “I’m not your master, nor was I the one who defeated you.”

Beru straightened slightly, his antennae twitching as if considering how best to respond. “I can feel,” he began, his voice measured and polite, “that My Liege already holds My Lady in the highest regard.” His antennae twitched again, as if punctuating the statement, and you caught the faintest shimmer of admiration in his glowing eyes.

You blinked, taken aback. Sure, some of your children called you as such, but the title “My Lady” straight from Jinwoo’s shadow soldiers was brand new, and the way Beru said it carried an odd mixture of respect and familiarity. Is this something Jinwoo instructed, or is it something Beru decided on his own? you wondered.

Though you had read the manhwa, you were unused to this side of Beru—polished, deferential, and subdued. Was it because he’s only just been awakened as Jinwoo’s soldier? you thought. You remembered how in the manhwa, Beru often showered Jinwoo with flowery praises and dramatic declarations. This version of him, freshly reborn, was a bit different.

You were about to question Beru further, curiosity piqued, when a sudden flash of silver and hints of orange-yellow entered your vision.

---

"Is she… hissing at him?" Jinwoo asked incredulously, his eyes narrowing in disbelief as the odd scene before him unfolded. His gaze flickered from the silver-haired woman—your butterfly, Trick, now manifest in her humanoid form—to the tall figure holding her aloft like a squirming misbehaved cat.

Red, your other butterfly and Trick’s elder sister in a way, stood impassively, her expression unreadable as always. The height difference made the whole situation look absurdly comedic. Trick’s thrashing, her hands clawing at the air and her feet kicking, only added to the spectacle.

"She’s definitely hissing," you confirmed with a sigh, pressing your fingers to the bridge of your nose. The frustration in your voice betrayed how accustomed you were to such antics.

Jinwoo’s gaze flickered back to Beru, who stood behind him with his head slightly cocked to the side, the faintest wisps of black mist curling off parts of his neck. Trick's claws—or whatever equivalent her humanoid form had—had evidently done a number on the Shadow Ant. Her orange-streaked yellow eyes glowed with such intensity that Jinwoo couldn’t help but wonder if she was on the verge of spontaneous combustion. If Trick had chosen to use a beast-like form instead of this human one, Jinwoo imagined she’d be foaming at the mouth by now, her silver hair—fur? Whatever—would be bristling, her fangs bared, and perhaps a low growl vibrating through the air.

"Honestly, it’s like dealing with squabbling children." you muttered under your breath, though your gaze softened as it landed on Trick. The bond you shared with your "children" made their emotions as transparent to you as an open book. You knew Trick’s rage wasn’t born of whimsy—it had a cause, one tied to her fiercely protective instincts.

Jinwoo raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching in amusement. "You tell me. Did Beru step on her toes or something?"

Jinwoo looked between Trick and Beru, his lips twitching as if suppressing a laugh. “Beru,” he said finally, fixing his soldier with a questioning stare. “Do you have any idea why she’s reacting like this?”

The towering ant shifted uncomfortably, his usual air of unshakable confidence dampened. “If I may inquire, My Lady,” Beru began—Again with that, your brows slightly furrowed—his deep voice uncharacteristically measured, “what grievance have I caused to incur such wrath from your esteemed creation?” His antennae twitched as if nervously seeking your approval.

You turned your attention back to Trick, who was still glaring daggers at Beru, and let out a long sigh. “Well…” You trailed off, carefully choosing your words. "It’s not about you, exactly."

"Then what is it about?" Jinwoo chimed in, crossing his arms and leaning slightly to the side for a better view of Trick’s furious expression.

You hesitated before answering, not quite sure whether to laugh or groan at the absurdity of it all. "You hurt her favorite friend," you finally explained.

Jinwoo frowned, tilting his head. “Her favorite friend?”

“Hae-In,” you clarified, crossing your arms and shooting Trick a knowing look. “Trick has a soft spot for her. She’s been watching over her ever since we met her. Seeing you injure her during the raid must’ve left a… lasting impression.”

Beru’s posture straightened, though the faintest trace of guilt crept into his expression. “Ah,” he said quietly. "I see. My actions during my life as an ant appear to have caused unintended grief. For this, I offer my sincerest apologies, to My Lady and her esteemed creations.”

You only sighed, still not getting used to Beru’s…politeness to you. Jinwoo raised an eyebrow, clearly amused, but said nothing as the scene continued to unfold. Red, meanwhile, silently tilted her head, her question clear even without words. You caught her gaze and waved her off. “It’s fine, Red. Let her go.”

Red nodded and gently set Trick down. The moment her feet touched the ground, Trick darted toward Beru like a missile. Before she could reach her target, however, she froze mid-air, a faint golden aura wrapping around her as your hand glowed softly. You lifted her effortlessly, the action reminiscent of a mother cat carrying her kitten by the scruff. Jinwoo let out a low chuckle at the sight, unable to help himself.

“Trick,” you called gently, your tone firm yet kind. Her glowing orange-silver eyes snapped to yours, and the fiery anger within them dimmed slightly. “I know you’re upset, but remember—Beru is one of Jinwoo’s shadows now. He’s not our enemy anymore.”

Trick’s lips pressed into a thin line, and though her arms crossed stubbornly, she offered no further resistance. Reluctantly, you lowered her to the ground.

“Good girl,” you said softly, patting her head. At your touch, Trick practically melted, leaning into your hand like a contented cat. Jinwoo could almost see the image of her butterfly form, wings glowing in delighted contentment.

"You’ve got an interesting way of keeping everyone in line," he remarked, his voice laced with amusement.

You shot him a dry look. "Says the guy with an army of shadows who jump at his every whim,"

He shrugged, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “Touché.”

Beru stepped forward cautiously, bowing deeply. “My Lady, I assure you, I will strive to amend this misunderstanding and avoid offending your creation in the future."

You waved a dismissive hand, already tired of the situation. “Just avoid provoking her. She’s protective, that’s all.”

“Protective is an understatement,” Jinwoo muttered, earning himself another glare from you.

“Bad,” you chided Trick when she moved to lunge at Beru again. She froze instantly, her shoulders slumping as if your single word had deflated her entirely. Her lips trembled, and she whimpered like a scolded child, teary-eyed and all that.

Satisfied she wouldn’t try anything else, you turned back to Jinwoo. “Don’t push it,” you warned, your tone carrying a sharp edge.

Jinwoo raised his hands in mock surrender, though his smirk remained firmly in place. “Noted.”

---

"Do your best, My Child. Fool them to their deaths."

Jinwoo remembered the exact words you said to Trick when he ordered Beru to eliminate the rest of the ants, especially the ones that managed to escape the island’s perimeters.

As the cleanup of the ant colony continued, Jinwoo observed Trick in action. She commanded her silver siblings with ruthless efficiency, her abilities seamlessly complementing Beru’s as they tracked down and eliminated the remaining ants.

"For someone who was plotting Beru’s murder just moments ago, she works very well with him," Jinwoo remarked, his tone light as he glanced in your direction.

You didn’t miss a beat. “I taught all my children to separate work and personal grievances, thank you very much.”

“Uh-huh,” Jinwoo replied, the skepticism evident in his voice. His gaze shifted back to the battlefield, where a particularly large cluster of ants was being lured directly into Beru’s path, clearly overloading him with unnecessary targets.

Jinwoo smirked. "You sure about that?"

“She’s sending way too many ants toward him, isn’t she?”

"I'd appreciate it if you can tell her to stop, but...” Jinwoo drawled out with a grin.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, exasperation washing over you for the nth time today.

He chuckled, "Good thing my new soldier’s tough enough to handle her, huh?"

Before you could respond, the system’s obnoxiously cheerful tone chimed in.

[You lost this time, ‘Trial’ Player.]

You groaned, turning away, determined not to give Jinwoo and the system the satisfaction of seeing your frustration. As futile as it was, you continued to mutter under your breath.

“Damnit.”

---

Breaking News!

"5th Jeju Island Raid Ends with Unprecedented Results!"

4802 hunters in participation. 727 regular awakened mobilized. Of those, 46 awakened lost their lives, and 32 civilians sustained injuries—historically the lowest numbers for a raid of this magnitude!

Special Note: Flowers mysteriously appearing during the battle have left many intrigued. “What’s the deal with these flowers popping up out of nowhere?!” exclaimed one baffled netizen.

18 hunters announced immediate permanent retirement post-raid, citing personal reasons. Notably, Min Byung-Gyu, the esteemed Healer who returned from the brink of death, is among them. However, Hunter Min declined to comment further.

---

As the memorial service for the fallen Hunters drew to a close, Jinwoo lingered in the crowd to pay his respects. His expression was unreadable, a careful mask concealing the myriad of emotions beneath. He had done his part, both in the raid and in honoring the sacrifices of the deceased.

"I don’t know how you did it, but…" Baek Yoonho added after his previous statements to Jinwoo, voice thick with emotion. "Thank you. For saving him."

Jinwoo paused, his lips curling into a faint, almost imperceptible smile. "It’s not me you should be thanking for that," he replied simply, offering no further explanation, his tone laced with quiet conviction. Without waiting for a response, he turned to leave, leaving Baek Yoonho staring after him, puzzled but still thankful.

Jinwoo's gaze swept the crowd until his eyes landed on Cha Hae-In. She stood a short distance away and caught his eye, her expression warm as she mouthed a quiet, ‘Thank you.’ Jinwoo nodded once in acknowledgment, appreciating the sincerity in her unspoken words.

As his eyes continued to roam, they eventually found you, standing still among the mourners. Your posture was still and composed, a faintly distant look in your eyes as though you were seeing beyond the moment, even as your head bowed slightly in reverence. When you noticed his gaze, you met it briefly before closing your eyes and turning back to the solemn proceedings, making no effort to move or acknowledge him further. Jinwoo took it as a sign.

Alright, Jinwoo thought as he noticed the Association’s official approaching, informing him that Chairman Go Gunhee wishes to speak with him. I needed to talk with him too anyway, as he followed the official, his eyes flickered back to you one last time. Huh, for a fleeting moment, he allowed himself a small observation.

She looks good in black.

---

Jinwoo should’ve finished his talk with the Chairman by now.

You thought as you slowly made your way toward the edge of the memorial grounds. The crowd was thinning, the lingering sense of grief and loss still hung in the air, but it was something you had grown accustomed to in this world, where sacrifice and loss often overshadowed victory. You had done what you could. The lives lost had been honored, and those who had survived could move on, at least for a while.

Out of the corner of your vision, a butterfly caught your eye—its wings shimmered in hues of green, black, and silver as it fluttered through the mourners—the child you had tasked to keep watch over a certain healer. Now it circled nearby as if to confirm the man’s presence.

Though you hadn’t expected him to notice you.

What were the odds? For him, standing in the middle of the sea of mourners, to notice you in the far back-end?

Your gaze drifted in the direction it came from, from where you stood, your gaze locked with Min Byung-Gyu’s. Recognition flickered briefly in his eyes before he looked away, his expression carefully neutral. You mirrored his action, calmly turning and continuing on your path.

You trusted him—he had made his vow to stay silent about what had transpired in that strange, timeless space where the two of you had crossed paths. Still, his awareness of you felt like a ripple in still water, a detail you couldn’t entirely dismiss. Though, should Min Byung-Gyu ever stray from his promise, the system would intervene.

Just as you began to retreat into your thoughts, a familiar voice broke through.

"(Name)."

You turned to see Jinwoo approaching with his usual gait. And, as you fell into steps beside him, he slowed his pace to match yours.

"When are you free?" he asked, his tone casual but with an undertone of anticipation.

You only hummed, tilting your head slightly, indicating to him that you'd need a bit more context than that.

"For that dinner," Jinwoo clarified.

Oh. Your steps faltered briefly.

---

"Sir?!" Woo Jinchul's voice rose in panic as Chairman Go Gunhee suddenly collapsed to his knees. The aide was at his side in an instant, his hands steadying the older man as he gave him a reassuring pat on the arm.

His sharp mind momentarily dulled by a wave of overwhelming warmth that left him gasping, Go Gunhee only laughed lightly, dismissing his subordinate's concern with a wave of his hand. "My apologies, Jinchul," he said, his voice calm despite the situation. " These old bones are finally starting to show their age. "

"Chairman, this isn't something to brush off!" Jinchul protested, his grip firm as he helped the older man back to his feet, then to a nearby bench. The concern etched across his features was evident, his brow furrowed deeply as he assessed the chairman's condition.

"Sir, should I call for a medic? We can—"

"That won't be necessary," Go Gunhee interrupted gently but firmly, shaking his head.

However, Go Gunhee’s attention was no longer on his subordinate— his sharp, seasoned gaze fixed on the direction Hunter Sung Jinwoo had disappeared moments earlier. Or rather, where they had disappeared.

It was ancient, commanding, and unyielding. Like a fragment of an endless abyss brushing against his very soul.

—Kneel. You are in the presence of [][][] [][][][][][][].

The fragmented sensation lingered, a half-heard whisper reverberating in the depths of his consciousness. It wasn't the first time he had felt something like this, though the last occasion was buried in the annals of his long memory, far back when the world was still grappling with the sudden appearance of Gates.

Yet, the air still thrummed with a residual warmth, all-encompassing and unrelenting, an energy that felt simultaneously divine and otherworldly. It wasn’t Jinwoo’s presence that lingered this time. It was hers.

“Chairman?” Jinchul’s voice brought him back, laced with worry.

“Hmm,” Gunhee hummed in thought, forcing himself to focus. “Woo Jinchul,” he called, his voice steady but thoughtful.

"Sir?" The younger man straightened immediately, awaiting orders.

"Investigate the young woman who accompanied Hunter Sung today," the Chairman instructed, his tone firm despite the fatigue in his posture, his gaze still fixed on that same direction. "I believe I’ve seen her somewhere before. Perhaps in our records of Hunters."

Jinchul hesitated for only a moment before nodding. "Understood, sir. I’ll pull up all available data and cross-check our archives. Do you have any specific details that might help narrow the search?"

Gunhee's gaze remained, his thoughts distant. "No… but something tells me she isn’t someone we can overlook. There's an aura about her—" he paused, searching for the right words, "—similar to Hunter Sung, like she’s walked through storms most of us can't even imagine, though notably subtler."

Jinchul glanced toward that direction as well, though no trace of Jinwoo or his companion remained. "Do you believe she’s a threat, sir?"

"Threat?" Gunhee repeated softly. He tilted his head slightly, pondering the question. "No… not quite.”

“Let’s just say... it’s better to err on the side of caution.”

Jinchul's frown deepened as he processed the chairman’s words.

"I’ll begin the investigation immediately," Jinchul assured.

"Good," Gunhee said, finally tearing his gaze away. "Let me know as soon as you find anything."

"Yes, Sir," Jinchul replied, already mentally cataloging the resources he’d need to dive into such a search.

As Jinchul guided him toward the car, Go Gunhee couldn’t shake the lingering impression. For years, he had dedicated himself to understanding the dangers that plagued their world, studying Hunters, Gates, and the forces behind them. Yet here he was, feeling unsettled by the presence of one woman.

As they drove away, he couldn’t help but glance out the window, back toward the direction Jinwoo and the woman had gone.

What kind of secret was Sung Jinwoo hiding now?

End Note:

Unfinished Draft of [25/11/2024] -

[the-fiction-witch]

Stars In Her Hair

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Daemon Targaryen Couple - Daemon X Reader Reader - (OC) Lady Allianna Dayne Rating - Flirty Word Count - 1463

Finally, Daemon had returned to King's Landing from the war on the stepstones, he returned as king of the narrow Sea a title he quickly abandoned, but his brother King Viserys planned a week of celebrations for his return and the end of the war. Tourneys, hunts and other such pleasantries the first of which was tonight a large feast for the court. The hall filled with laughter and music, the tables lined with food and lords.

Daemon glanced around the hall attempting to find something interesting, part of him remembered how little he had missed such foolish politics, and he was tempted to finish his cup and head to his chamber for the night.

However, his eyes settled as they usually did on the body of the young lady, The Lady Allianna Dayne dressed as usual in deep purple and silver, with silver star jewellery and even a Star hairpin through her curls setting silver stars in her hair. The Dayne’s A fellow house of old Valyira with purple eyes much like many Targaryen’s. The last Daemon saw Allianna she was a young girl clutching her father's jacket as she followed him about court but that was many years ago.

Daemon’s eyes were drawn to her figure. He couldn’t help but admit to himself he found her attractive, she was beautiful. He slowly pushed himself up from the chair at the royal table, He started to make his way over to where she stood. He stood there a moment, staring at her before eventually speaking.

"You look rather bored standing here alone. Has not one person thought to request you dance this fine evening?"

She chuckled "No, they know better,"

"Is that so? Are you that intimidating?" He questioned, his tone playful. He moved to stand beside her, his gaze slowly travelling the length of her frame, admiring her appearance. Allianna was a beautiful woman with assets many in the seven kingdoms pay a fair price for on brothel girls, but she wore the impressive symbols of her house and its history

She glanced at him making sure to catch his eye so he knew she’d seen what he was up to, "It has been a good few years since you were here Prince Daemon. In that time a lady at court must learn to take care of herself,"

"Indeed it has been a long time. You've grown well since that child at court," His eyes continued admiring her looks, the curves of her body obvious beneath her dress, and then he raised his eyes to her hair. "I see you've adopted the family tradition and put a star in your hair. A fitting accessory for a lady of the house of the dawn star."

"I'm sure you felt compelled to adopt dragon scales on your sleeves and dragon buttons on your doublet at a similar age. Stars are my family, I wear them with pride. As a Lannister wears a lion, a stark a wolf fur, and you a dragon my prince."

"Quite right a Dayne girl would be nothing without her stars." He looked around the great hall. "I've seen many Westerosi houses here tonight, but I haven't spotted your father so far."

"he is not here.” She answered, “He is in Starfall, ruling as lord and comforting my mother, he .. he prays she will deliver him a son," her tone saddened,

He frowned as he spoke again. "I see, still no male heir then."

"No, only me."

"That’s quite a responsibility. I imagine your father is eager for a son to succeed him, an heir and not a daughter.”

"There is much he is eager for," she said dismissively before changing the subject, "but you have been busy... All these years, the war of the stepstones now won at last. King of the stepstones they've calling you," she chuckled at the title,

His lips curled into a smile, "King of the Stepstones, some do indeed call me that and yet I'm nothing more than a prince I assure you." He chuckled himself at the absurdity of it. "It's true that I've been busy but now I’m back here in the capital." He paused. "And I hope it doesn't take six years to see you at a feast again."

"I represent the whole of the south at court, you shall be seeing me, my prince,"

"You represent the South?" he asked, She was too young to be a delegate of her family he thought. "Your father's work I imagine? You're the only child and he doesn't wish to leave Dorne without a Dayne heir, not without a son." His words held some criticism of her father. He wondered if it truly a good idea to send her alone to the snake pit of a city like King's Landing? Anyone could take… advantage.

"You are correct," She nodded

"You must miss it. Your home? The warm sands of Dorne instead of the cobbled stones of the city." He moved a little closer, their distance closing. "Though a woman like you would be welcome in any room, be it a hall or a tent in the desert."

"I do miss it, starfall is unlike any castle in the seven kingdoms, I miss my tower, I miss the silver running like rivers through the walls, the moon-shaped cobbles and star glass windows. Somehow I feel every mile I am away from home. And weaker the further I am," There was a sadness behind her words as she spoke of home, "but... this is home, for now."

"The Dornish are proud people, the people of Starfall particularly so. It sounds like a lovely place." He felt a bit of sympathy for her, he felt the same about Dragon Stone which he had always called his home, "You'll return someday with a husband and a brood of children, and be happy there I’m sure."

she scoffed "Yes return home with a husband and children to be bossed about by the lord of Starfall, a brother whom even if is born today will be twenty years my junior." She explained "... When a son is born, Starfall won't be my home anymore, I'll simply be shipped off to whatever lord father picks out,"

His face showed a trace of sympathy for her as she spoke. "You'll be fine. The right Lord or Prince will come along for you, be assured of that." He looked at her for a moment before smirking. "Perhaps that’s why you keep every man at bay. Holding out for their Prince Charming."

"a prince?" She chuckled, "as far as I was aware... The realm has only the one prince" She maked eye contact,

He caught her gaze and held it, a slight smirk on his lips as she commented. He decided to play along with her game. "You’d be correct" he said, taking note of how she was standing, almost as if she were drawing herself towards him. "I’m the one and only" he added jokingly, before looking around to make sure no one was listening. "I’m curious..." he began, his tone lighter. "How did you pass your time in King’s Landing alone? I imagine you’ve been bombarded with men asking you to dance all night."

"I have been far too busy dealing with politics," she chuckled, "but if I have a moment I go to the library," she nodded, "Eman issare learning eglie valyiran” “I have been learning high valyiran" she said in a slight tender and careful high valyiran given she is still learning,

He was taken aback by her, It wasn’t something he expected. His eyebrows went up, his interest piqued. “You’ve issare learning Valyrio Eglie?” "You’ve been learning high Valyrian?”

She nodded with a gentle smile,

“Your accent is somewhat shaky but your pronunciation is decent enough.”

"hard to nail an accent when reading alone in the library"

He chuckled, "No good teacher then."

“Few known it at all let alone enough to teach.”

He looked upon her for a moment, his gaze tracing her body once again, before returning to her eyes. "I’m fluent in Valyrian. I could teach you."

"Could you? That would be very kind of you Prince Daemon,"

“Think nothing of it.” He took the opportunity to close the distance between them. He brought his body closer to hers and held her with a strong gaze. His voice came out in a low whisper. “Ziry would sagon ñuha pleasure naejot dohaeragon ao lēda aōha Valyrīha” “It would be my pleasure to help you with your Valyrian.”

She smiled biting her lip a little before she spoke, “Tomorrow, Eleven, in the library.” She nodded, “I’ll see you then Prince Daemon,”

“It’s a date” He nodded taking her hand in his and kissing her knuckles, “Ñuha dōna” “My Sweet”

She nodded hiding her blush as slipped her hand from his own and she walked away to leave the celebrations, 

[weirdkpopgirl]

Depressed | Dream Reaction #15 (hyung line)

Reaction: when their gf is falls into depression

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort

Warnings: mentions of reader being depressed, dark thoughts, self-harm, insecurities, all the fun stuff. please do not read if any of these topics trigger you.

Word Count: ~3k

Author's Note: it has been so long since i last posted a reaction for 7dream 😭. honestly i've been running out of ideas for them, so that's why. and i know i've written things with similar topics to this one, but i wanted to write something specifically for depression. the reason for this being that i was struggling a lot recently, but i am doing better now. still, my hope is that i can offer some comfort to those of you who might be experiencing this or something similar. thank you for reading ^ ^

here is the maknae-line version if you'd like to read it!

~ ~ ~

mark 

The faint lights of the city cast fleeting shadows across Mark’s face as his head rested against the window of his manager’s car. His fingers idly scrolled through Instagram to make the time pass a little faster. Absentmindedly, he moved to his message section to look through his friends’ notes. He stopped when he came across yours—  which had “Lonely” by Jonghyun and Taeyeon playing.

Mark frowned, as he listened to the chorus part of the song you had chosen. It gnawed at him, realizing this wasn’t the first time you had picked a gloomy track recently. Over the past few weeks, your song choices had felt like little cries for help, subtle yet piercing. 

Unable to brush it off this time, Mark asked his manager to drop him off at your place instead. His manager shot him a skeptical glance through the rearview mirror. But when he realized through Mark’s concerned expression that this was serious, he allowed Mark to type in your address into the GPS. Your place wasn’t far from their current route anyway.

The car soon pulled up in front of your apartment building. Mark thanked his manager before stepping out, pulling his hood over his head and slipping on a mask to ward off the cold and any unwanted attention. In the three months you and Mark had been together, your secret relationship had managed to stay under the radar—  unnoticed by any news outlets. 

Mark let himself in, a small smile tugging at his lips as he recalled how touched he’d been when you told him the passcode was his birthday. The serene darkness of your apartment greeted him as he pushed the door open and removed his shoes at the entryway. His eyes were immediately drawn to the only visible light from the left side as he turned down the hallway. A soft glow emanated from your bedroom, urging his feet to move instinctively in that direction.

He approached cautiously, peeking inside to find you lying atop your double bed, the navy blue comforter from your childhood spread beneath you. Your purple earbuds were in, and your eyes were fixed on the ceiling with a faraway emptiness in your expression. The absence of the light he was so used to seeing in you twisted his heart.

“(Y/n),” he called out. However, you didn’t notice his presence until he stepped closer to your bedside.

Surprised, you blinked and turned your head toward him. Removing one earbud, you simply looked at him with something deeper than exhaustion.

Mark sat on the edge of your bed. “Are you listening to your sad playlist again?”

You silently handed him your phone, the Spotify screen confirming his suspicions. 92 songs, 6 hours’ worth of Korean music designed to pull you deeper into your somber mood. 

After removing your second earbud and placing it in its charging case, you move to sit up. But Mark gently stopped you, resting a hand on your shoulder before lowering himself onto the bed to lie beside you. Once you were settled in his arms he asked, “Are you okay?”

Half of him expected you to lie and say you were fine. His mind was already running with responses to persuade you to be honest about what you were feeling to him.

The defensive wall that usually kept you guarded wasn’t there tonight. You simply didn’t have the energy to be the strong person you wanted Mark to see.

“No… I’m not,” you whispered, your voice trembling as Mark noticed the tears beginning to well in your eyes.

In a moment of slight panic, he gently cupped the right side of your face, catching the tears before they could fall. “Hey, hey, I’m here. It’s alright. You don’t have to explain right now.”

That was all it took before you buried your face in his chest, his hoodie muffling the quiet sobs that escaped you.

Mark had so much he wanted to say right now. He wanted to reassure you that he’d be there when you were ready to talk, that you didn’t have to push him away when you were hurting, and that you weren’t alone in the storm you felt trapped in.

But for the time being, he held you closer, his hand rubbing small, soothing circles on your back. He could feel your grip on his shirt tighten, a silent plea for comfort. Words could wait.

◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆

renjun 

During a ten-minute break called by their choreographer, Renjun pulled out his phone, hoping to see a message from you. Daily texts have become a comforting routine in your relationship. While Renjun didn’t always show it, your little check-ins added more warmth to his life, especially on the colder days. However, your messages have become less frequent lately.

Sitting on the sofa, he started at the most recent text you had sent when he was practicing with the guys. It was brief, a little too brief, considering how cheerful your messages used to be.

| Hope your day is going well. Don’t skip dinner after practice, okay?

No pet names, no emoticons. Not that you used them all the time, but Renjun still noticed the lack of them. Your texts themselves weren't what set off his alarm bells, it was the subtle changes in you. Similar to you, he was also observant and had picked up on your quieter demeanor, the weaker tone in words, and the way your laughter didn’t quite reach your eyes anymore.

Renjun knew you struggled with depression in the past, but you had assured him you were better now. He believed you then, but now… he sensed something had shifted.

A heavy sigh left him as he brushed his hair back with a shaky hand. He wasn’t in the best mental place himself, though he had made significant progress this month, thanks to the support from you and his members. Still, your recent distance was weighing on him, and he knew that he had to confront you about it tonight.

He showed up at your doorstep an hour and a half later, catching you off guard by your boyfriend’s sudden appearance.

“Renjun? I thought you had practice late tonight.”

Hesitating to answer immediately, his eyes locked onto yours for a long moment. Finally, he spoke softly. “Can we talk?”

The vulnerability in his tone instantly made you concerned, and you stepped back to let him inside. 

“Yeah, of course. Are you okay?” you asked, shutting the door behind him as he swapped his shoes for the slippers you kept for him. “Did something happen at practice? Did you get another sasaeng call?”

A rush of mixed emotions swept through Renjun—grateful that you instinctively cared about him, yet saddened that you seemed to prioritize his well-being over your own.

“No, it’s not that. I’m just… worried about you,” he said slowly.

You froze for a moment, then attempted to smile. “What? Jun, there’s no reason to worry about me. I’m–” 

“Please, don’t lie and tell me you’re fine,” he interrupted gently, but firmly. “Not when you’ve been acting differently and avoiding real conversations with me. I know the signs, (Y/n)—  you can’t hide from me.”

The way he called you out made you pause, and your built-up resistance began to dissipate. Renjun knew just how self-aware you were.

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” you sighed, gesturing for him to sit down. 

Nodding, he followed you into the living room, where the two of you sat on your couch, your knees lightly touching.

Looking into his pretty, earnest eyes, you parted your lips to speak. “The truth is, I haven’t been doing that great. There’s some family stuff that’s been stressing me out lately.”

Renjun listened intently as you finally opened up about your struggles over the past few weeks. When you finished, he reached out for your hand, his eyes brimming with emotion as he fought to hold back tears.

“Love, why did you wait so long to tell me?”

“Because you don’t need this right now,” you explained quietly, your shoulders starting to tremble. “You’re already dealing with so much, Jun. I didn’t want to bring you down even more.”

Renjun gently cupped your hand in both of his, his thumb softly brushing over your knuckles as he looked at you with a mix of concern and tenderness.

“(Y/n),” he said, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “I want to be there for you, just like you’ve been for me. You don’t have to carry this alone. I care about you more than anything, and whatever you're going through, we face it together. You don’t have to protect me from your pain. I’m here to share it, all of it.”

His sweet words stirred something deep within you, a warmth that brought tears to your eyes. You blinked them back, swallowing the emotion.

“I love you,” you whispered, making him smile.

He squeezed your hand reassuringly. “I love you too. Please, don’t hide from me. I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

For the first time in a while, you smiled back genuinely. He leaned in, kissing you tenderly before resting his forehead against yours. Despite the monsters you and Renjun faced individually, they didn’t seem as scary when you had each other.

◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆

jeno

He was so excited when you visited him at the company building. After being apart for so long due to touring, Jeno realized just how much he missed you– texts and video calls just weren’t cutting it for him. 

As soon as he saw his manager let you into the recording studio, he wrapped up his session quickly and efficiently. Though he was a bit drained from the day, his energy instantly shot up at the sight of you. And when he saw the takeout food from his favorite restaurant in your hand, it was the perfect bonus.

Jeno led you to an empty conference room so you could eat together in private. He was so hungry that he practically devoured the food once it was taken out of the bag. 

“You’re amazing, babe,” he said with a mouthful of rice. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

A faint smile spread across your lips as you placed a napkin in front of him. “I think you’d do just fine, Jeno-ssi.”

Your reply made Jeno pause for a moment, his chopsticks hovering mid-air. That’s when he noticed the food was arranged entirely on his side of the table.

“Why aren’t you eating?” He glanced up to ask, knowing you liked this type of food too.

Nonchalantly, you shrugged. “I’m not that hungry.”

Jeno’s brow furrowed, concern beginning to take root. As he thought about it, he realized there were subtle things he had overlooked earlier. You were dressed entirely in black—while it wasn’t unusual for you to wear the color, you typically paired it with something lighter, like white or blue. Your skin seemed a touch paler than usual, and there was a noticeable weariness in your eyes that he hadn’t seen before.

“Have you eaten at all today?” he then asked, his eyes searching yours.

You shrank slightly in the chair, biting your lip because you knew that lying wouldn’t work on him.

Avoiding his gaze, you crossed your arms and murmured, “It’s fine, Jeno. I feel full, just watching you eat.” 

“(Y/n)...”

Jeno studied you carefully, searching for the right thing to say. He wasn’t the best at this—  comforting others with words, But he couldn’t just sit here, not when it was clear something was bothering you.

“You remind me of Jaemin sometimes,” he said, after collecting his thoughts. 

Confusion crossed your expression. “Jaemin?”

Jeno nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You know how he’s always taking care of us? Making sure we’re not skipping meals and scolding us when we get sick? But he also skips meals sometimes and catches a cold. He hides that side of him because he doesn’t want to burden us.”

You tilted your head slightly, Jeno’s words sinking in as you frowned. Now that you thought about his best friend from that perspective, your boyfriend was right.

“You do that too,” Jeno continued, leaning forward in his seat. “You care so much about everyone else, but you neglect yourself at the same time. And I know you’re trying to protect me. But (Y/n), you don’t have to.”

He noticed your lower lip tremble as your gaze fell to your lap, a clear sign his words had struck a chord.

“You are so precious, just like Jaemin is to us. So please, don’t feel like you have to hurt alone. I want to know how you’re feeling, babe,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

The first tear slid down her cheek, followed by another, until her shoulders were shaking with silent sobs.

“I’m… I’m just so tired,” you finally admitted, wiping a tear with the back of your palm. “I thought I could handle everything on my own. But…I can’t, Jeno.”

His heart broke at the sight, but he didn’t hesitate for this. He pulled your chair closer to him so he could hug you. Your tears soaked into his shirt as you clung to him.

“It’s okay,” he whispered into your hair. “Cry as much as you need to, I’m here. I won’t leave.”

The weight you’ve been carrying finally gave way, as you cried into his embrace. Jeno held you securely, his chin resting atop your head. He didn’t have all the answers, but one thing was certain—  he wasn’t going to let you face this pain alone. You would face it together, no matter how long it took.

◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆

haechan 

He had been watching you all throughout dinner with the Dreamies. Sure, you were the most introverted in the group. But usually, you loosened up a bit now that you were closer to his members. While you weren’t as loud or blunt as he was, you’d still drop a quick-witted remark occasionally, and engage in a conversation with Chenle or Jisung. Yet tonight, you had been unusually quiet. Your contributions were limited to small smiles at the occasional joke, placing a piece of meat in his bowl, and offering vague answers to any questions directed your way.

On the drive home, he broke the silence at the third red light. “Okay, what’s up?”

Your eyes shifted from the passenger window to him. He was still staring straight ahead, his hands gripping the steering wheel firmly.

“What do you mean?” you asked, confused by his sudden question.

That’s when he turned his head to meet your gaze with a knowing look. “Come on, (Y/n). You were quiet during dinner, and you’re still quiet now.”

“I’m just a quiet person, Hyuck. You know me,” you replied with a shrug, your tone light as if trying to brush off the topic.

The light turned green, and Haechan pressed the gas pedal, smoothly moving the car forward. “You’re right— I do know you,” he sighed, pulling into a random parking spot on the side of the street.

You looked at him incredulously. “Donghyuck, what are you–”

Before you could finish questioning why he’d pulled over, he unbuckled his seatbelt and turned to face you fully.

“Please talk to me, baby,” he said softly, his tone almost pleading. “I know something’s wrong. I can feel it.”

You let out a laugh, the kind that came instinctively in moments like this as if deflecting the weight of the situation. 

“Nothing’s wrong. I–I’m just tired, Hyuck. That’s all,” you said, reaching out to take his hand in yours.

But his concern didn’t waver. His brows furrowed, his thumb gently stroking your knuckles. “You’re never this quiet unless…” he began, his words trailing off as if hesitant to voice his fears.

“I’m fine, really,” you insisted, the faintest edge of frustration creeping into your tone. “Can you just take me home now?”

When you tried to pull your hand away, he tightened his grip, tugging it gently back.

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?” 

“Stop pushing me away,” he said. You could see him searching your eyes for the honesty you were hanging onto desperately like a rope.

Your heart stuttered at his stern words, and you couldn’t meet his eyes for a moment. The weight of his unflinching gaze pressed down on you in a way that made it impossible to keep your walls intact.

A defeated sigh escaped you. “Fine, I…I’m not okay. I just didn’t want to worry you.”

Haechan’s lips curved into a small smile. “Hate to break it to you, (Y/n), but as your boyfriend, worrying about you kind of comes with the job. No matter the circumstances.”

The lighthearted tone, paired with the sincerity in his words, made something inside you crack. Before you could stop them, tears began slipping down your cheeks. Haechan noticed immediately, his hand moving to gently lift your chin so your eyes met his.

“I’m sorry… I’ve just been letting my thoughts get to the best of me, and I can’t seem to shut them off,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “It’s stupid, everyone goes through this. That’s why–”

“Stop,” he interjected softly but firmly, his thumb brushing away a tear. “Don’t downplay how you’re feeling. It’s not stupid, and you’re not supposed to just push through it alone. Not when you have me.”

His words carried a weight that made your chest tighten, a reminder that his care was unwavering.

“I know you’re overwhelmed,” he continued, his voice gentle, “but you don’t have to have it all figured out right now. You just have to let me in. Let me help you carry it, baby. That’s what I’m here for.”

The love in his eyes was undeniable, and it struck a chord deep within you. He wasn’t asking for an explanation, a solution, or even for you to fix yourself— just for you to let him be there.

◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆

previous masterlist -> current masterlist

[lialuvsaven]

Happy Birthday, Aventurine!!

“Aventurine always tries not to remember. He's never synced the Sigonian calendar system to check the date in trailblaze calendar, never makes the mistake of dwelling on the memories surrounding this day— even when he's too drunk to remember his own name. Done everything possible to not acknowledge it; because this day feels like nothing but a curse to him.

Unfortunately, Jade has now ensured that he never gets to forget his birthday, again.”

Pairing: Aventurine x reader

Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Comfort in the end to compensate for everything else ❤️ Reader is not physically present in the fic (they're not dead it's ok)

wc: 3.3k

Aventurine was abruptly interrupted by a knock on the door just as the sun began to slant westward.

With a sigh, he puts down the pen and glances at the wall clock. The hands on the parchment-shaped monstrosity read 1 pm, but his eyes are drawn back to the purple tongue protruding from its massively extended mouth. Seriously, where does Stelle find these items? "An ugly, purple parchment shaped wall clock that looks like it's ready to eat people"— isn't something most people would think to give him, to say the least. But that's the thing—it was Stelle.

She claimed to have found it during one of her "excavations." And even though Miss March 7th did her best to keep her friend from going into further details, stepping on Stelle's toes right in front of him and giving her a sidelong glance, as if he wouldn't notice, he could tell what kind of "excavations" would turn up something like this. Not like he minds the origins of this gift, however. Gifts from friends are few and far to come by, especially ones who actually tolerate him. Not to mention, Stelle likely sincerely believes that it's a cool gift, which is why it has replaced the diamond-embedded wall clock on his wall.

His musings are interrupted by a second knock, which, like the first one, reverberates once around the room before fading away in embarrassment. "Come in." He announces, reclining back in his seat and looking at the door with expectation in his eyes. It was not uncommon for his secretary to appear randomly in his office, constantly fussing over yet another minor issue. He believed it was her; at least, his itinerary showed he didn't have any guest visits today. Maybe it was time to replace assistants—the new hire is clearly not on the same wavelength as him. But he'd only recently had Topaz yell at him for changing staff so frequently; he'd prefer not to tell her that her choice was horribly disappointing just yet.

With a tiny bag bearing a brand he is all too acquainted with, the secretary enters the office. She keeps her gaze fixed on the floor the entire time, hence doesn't notice when her supervisor raises an eyebrow at the sight of his favorite jewelry brand. "Sir," she says in a low, somewhat flat voice, akin to that of a news reporter. "Earlier, a staff of Madam Jade stopped by. You have a present."

A grin appears on Aventurine's face, followed by a joyful chuckle. With how busy work has been lately, he'd almost forgotten when he asked Jade for a pink diamond, as has Jade apparently, seeing how long it's taken for her to send this. His request was a joke, of course, only meant to irritate Topaz. But he wasn't surprised either; Jade always takes good care of her weaponry. "Ahhh, no wonder!" He chirps and presses his palms together. "She must've finally found some generosity in her heart, hm?" He muses, and his assistant can only stand there stoically. He waves her off as she places the bag on his table and departs with an unnecessary low bow, never looking at his eyes once. As always.

When the secretary has left the room, he opens the bag, humming as he removes the box and gift card. Jade's handwriting is distinctive: prim and precise cursive that resembles a font.

"Happy birthday, Aventurine. This jewel would suit you far better than the pink diamond you asked for, don't you think?" — Jade

Kakavasha freezes. His birthday, she says, but she'd need to align the standard calendar system to the Sigonian one to find that out. She sent him a…..….a gift? For his birthday? 

Is this a fucking joke?

The box reveals a chunk of corundum. Raw, uncut, pink and blue hues all over. Shades way too close to his eyes, and it doesn't take a gemologist to tell that Jade had done her searching thoroughly to obtain this. A jewel the color of his eyes, the color of Avgin eyes, neatly wrapped in a box for….to send ..what sort of message, exactly? Oh Avgin, never forget who you were before I found you—unpolished and undeserving. forget your name, but never your roots.  

The note is crumpled and thrown in the trashcan, while the corundum and its box are hastily and carelessly pushed back into the bag. Really, so typical of Jade, he scoffs as he tosses the godforsaken bag into a random drawer, never to be seen again. 

Kakavasha— no, Aventurine always tries not to remember. He's never synced the Sigonian calendar system to check the date in trailblaze calendar, never makes the mistake of dwelling on the memories surrounding this day— even when he's too drunk to remember his own name. Done everything possible to not acknowledge it; because this day feels like nothing but a curse to him.

Unfortunately, Jade has now ensured that he never gets to forget, again. 

In any case, Aventurine concludes that it is not good for him to worry about this too much. Yes, he can just forget about the corundum. Yes, he is able to forget how it resembled Avgin eyes. Yes, he can also forget that Jade most likely sent this to "keep him in check" following the stunt he did in Penacony. But it was a mistake on his part to not see something coming. She had done this before, and it would not be the last time. He smiles at his own reflection in the bathroom mirror, composed, shrewd, and calculated. Since a mirror has the freedom of choice, it does not return his smile.

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By the time the car comes to a stop in front of his house, Aventurine is exhausted. His chauffeur unlocks the door for him, and he makes his way to the elevator. Yet he's interrupted again— of course, because it's a cursed day, and Aventurine has to restrain himself from scowling at the gateman, who stands in front of him wearing an anxious expression. "Sir, your friend had visited earlier to drop off something."

He raises an eyebrow and is about to inquire when he notices the bag the man is carrying. Without saying anything further, he simply takes the bag. You are the only one who'd own a dumb clockie bag and the only one who'd ever drop things off at his place.

When he steps in, his three catcakes meow loudly to greet him, and feels somewhat grateful for it. Today was just too exhausting, after all. He understands what this is about, based on the fact that you always give him gifts in person. Why, of all days, would you consider dropping it off today? And with no advanced notice- completely unlike you. How annoying, did Jade really have to do this too? He's never disclosed his birthday to you, so you probably coerced her into telling you, and she was glad to oblige, given you are of value to her.

Aventurine doesn't realize he's been standing in the kitchen for a long time until Spade begins massaging its fluffy body on his legs. He is surrounded by his three catcakes, who are all staring up at him expectantly. The message is crystal clear: We Want Food. He moves swiftly to get their food bowls, chuckling to himself before setting your lunchbox on the counter, sort of as an afterthought. At least they'll be able to go to bed well fed tonight. 

After serving them dinner, he leaves the kitchen carrying a bottle of wine, hoping to spend the remainder of the evening crashing on the couch. He can just leave everything else for tomorrow. The benefit of drinking is that it can temporarily impair your ability to sense emotions. He only needs a short term fix, after all. Come tomorrow, he'll take hangover pills, and walk out of this house as Aventurine of the stratagems again— undoubtedly.

He turns on a random B-grade movie, prepared to drink the night away. And he does precisely that—he pushes down thoughts of how his childhood friends, whose features now misty in his memories, would react if they were to see him. With another shot, he pushes down recollections of his mother's cooking—the special meals for the Kakava—and his birthday. Another to accept the now-blurry face of his sister in his memory as the only proof of her existence. Another to forget the clay dolls she'd made for him, on the last birthday kakavasha got to celebrate, that were broken when he had to run for his life. And one more shot, and another, till he's forgotten everything; till he's numb and emotionless.

Feeling empty and hollow is far worse than anything else, and being unable to cry isn't as pleasant as he thought it'd be. But in his lavish home, where gold abounds in every nook and cranny, he has little reason for tears. Money may not be able to buy him happiness, as he is well aware, but it certainly does spare him from ugly tears unfit for his visage. Maybe that's why he hasn't cried in a while, or perhaps he has simply lost his soul somewhere along the way. He stays on the couch till 3 am, accompanied by his pets. He pretends not to see the troubled looks they shoot at him, whispered words passed between them that are clearly about him. By the time he decides to rest for the night, he is fatigued, sluggish, and barely keeping it together.

When he gets up to grab a glass of water from the kitchen, Ace makes a protesting noise before promptly shutting up. Catcakes are smart creatures, and they understand him better than most individuals in his life (or maybe the difference lies in care) His throat is dry, and ice cold water from the freezer provides enormous relief. However, the respite is taken away from him by the crackling lightning, loud as a whip, pulling out memories up to the forefront of his mind again. Of the lightning without the rain, of Sigonia-IV. The drumming of the thunder is largely hidden by the concrete walls, so it isn't as hard on the ear—but it aches a lot more than it did before. Aventurine sneers to himself, dismissing the idea as ludicrous. As if.

The second time the thunder sizzles, Aventurine has to take a sharp breath and grip the countertop to steady himself. It sounds like playing dead in the bleeding streams of Sigonia-IV, like the booming cackle of the mocking thunder. Had he been an insolent child, just a little more doubtful than he already was, he'd believe it was Mama Fenge herself laughing at her so called "blessed child". The thunder sounds similar, but it's not the same. No, because this is still Aventurine and he's still here and those are someone else's memories, forgotten and buried in sand.

Aventurine sighs.

Drinking too much has never done any good to him.

Just as he is ready to leave the kitchen, he notices the lunchbox sitting the counter out of the corner of his eye. Oh, right. He hadn't even touched it. A distraction doesn't seem bad now, though. If he wants to fabricate a plausible lie about eating the food, he would at least need to know what kind of food you sent. If the mental image of your frown after discovering he never even looked at what you sent is what gives him the final push , he would never admit it.

The lunchbox has a plains bear cub logo: you've always been a sucker for cute things. He sets aside the little note attached for later this time, preferring to taste the dinner first. It looks like you chose to make him some kind of soup. Insulated lunchboxes are a blessing— because it's surely been well over half a day since you made it, yet it's still warm. While the presentation is relatively simple, it smells strangely comforting— effect of some potion? He's heard of those, but they're usually used for sick patients, no? Other than that, this is the first homemade meal he's having in a….while. Not that it matters. Aventurine isn't picky, and while the leafy greens are unfamiliar to him, he believes he can handle at least a tablespoon.

Even the largest avalanche can be triggered by the smallest of things. Just one spoonful, and yet it's enough to make his world stop.

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The dry, broken soil scraped against his bare feet, producing little clouds of dust in its wake. His strides were light and rapid, nearly tripping over himself with excitement and giddiness. Just a little more, and he'll reach the finish line. Even the Sun's typical glare felt kind today; warm and tender against his tanned skin. Jumping over the homemade hurdles, he reaches the finish line far ahead of his friends. They protest and pout, and he taunts them with the biggest smile on his face. The soles of his feet feel slightly sore from running barefoot, but Kakavasha wouldn't risk destroying his only pair of shoes for a game. 

When he hears his sister's voice calling for him, he rushes to embrace her and buries his face in her apron. His mother once told him that the Avgins all possess lovely voices, but Kakavasha believes his sister's is the best, especially when she laughs.

"And when will you listen to me and stop running around in the middle of the day, hm?" She pinches his nose and uses her apron to wipe the dirt off his face. Kakavasha beams at her with no regrets, proudly displaying the gap between his teeth. Once kakavasha had said his goodbyes to his friends, they walk hand in hand towards their tent.

There, his mother welcomes them with a warm embrace that smells like creosote bush and desert rain. “My darling," she coos, putting his small hands in her larger ones, rough from labour. "I remember you promised to be on time for lunch last time?" He grins cheekily, vowing not to do it again. (He's a repeat offender, but he knows that his mother and sister can't stay upset at him for long.)

His mother laughs, and tells him to tidy up before eating. Kakavasha's tummy is grumbling by the time he returns, and he finds the mats his sister laid down to sit on. The two siblings sit next to each other, chatting and giggling as they wait for their mother. She serves them a pot of hot soup with nettle leaves and lentils, just the way Kakavasha prefers it. He's overjoyed; quickly finishing his prayers before digging in. Kakavasha is a growing boy, and that's proved again when he finishes his bowl before his family.

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The soup she'd served him back then wasn't anything lavish; just a simple soup with local herbs and nettle leaves in a broth that smelt so uniquely of hers. His mama may have had a knack for cooking, but due to a lack of opportunities and resources, she never got to demonstrate her abilities. Compared to that, your food is much finer, and while excellent, it lacks the warmth of his mother's hands.  

Nevertheless, he can't resist taking another spoonful and quickly putting it in his mouth because the familiarity is so, so palpable. He recalls that his sister wanted him to eat better, so she gave him half of her portion after he finished his. His mother then gave his sister half of her portion, as they are Both growing children. All of a sudden, the bickering, the laughs, and their voices are as plain as day in his mind. He can't fully recall the glitter in his sister's eyes or the dimple on his mother's cheek, but it's clearer than any other memory he had of them, that's for sure. 

Aventurine can't stop crying, even if he wants to. Trying to halt the choking sobbing is fruitless, as is trying to figure out what's going on. He picks up the little message with shaking hands, hoping—praying—that it will help. You'll make it make sense. Somehow.

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“Dear Aventurine, I hope you have a wonderful birthday!!!!”  

Written in thin, flowing, rounded letters that are noticeably cleaner than your actual handwriting. You undoubtedly put a lot of effort into each letter you wrote. Aventurine was correct in assuming you found out his birthday through Jade, as you have written it here. "Buying a gift for you seems…a little perfunctory," you said, "so I've settled with cooking you something myself."

"And if the dish tastes familiar (which I hope it does) then yes, you've guessed it right— it's a traditional Avgin dish."

The perfumed ink is thicker here, a few ink blots from where you've likely paused to think, go over each sentence in your head before writing them down.

You mention finding the Avgin dishes by reading some kind of research paper on Sigonian culture and food, but Aventurine isn't sure he can believe that. You wrote, "I was fortunate enough," yet chance alone wouldn't get you something like that. Sure, maybe some doctoral candidate was crazy enough to choose a dead planet and its deader tribes to write about, but finding that paper would be too difficult. The biggest issue, however, is that Aventurine believes this dish should not and cannot exist. The stinging nettle leaves his mother used are no longer available, and while he didn't know much about cooking at the time, he was aware that all of the spices he knew were almost extinct. He's looked enough to know.

"I'll be honest, I had some trouble locating the ingredients for it and had to swap the majority of them because I couldn't find them. I really wanted to bring back a familiar feeling, even if it tastes very different from how you remember it. Plus, it's the thought that counts, right?"

In contrast to the light-hearted language, your writing is slightly wobbly and darker here, and Aventurine wonders if you realise your emotions seep through every single one of your actions, laid bare for the world to see.

Noting the disappearance of their owner, curious, the catcakes peep into the kitchen are immediately alarmed to see their owner sitting on the counter stool, sobbing and clutching a box. Spade, unsure of what to do, nuzzles it's head on Aventurine's leg, while the others meow in an attempt to calm him down. Aventurine hasn't sobbed in a long time—he can't remember how to anymore. His body shakes with each ragged and broken sob, sounding shattered and damaged, but he can't stop.

"I hope it brings you fond memories" is what you wrote down, but are you aware of the full impact of what you did for him? Most likely not. Aventurine cherishes all of his memories, including the unpleasant ones: as long as it involves his family. His misery knows no bounds, but he's only had a few years with his sister, and even fewer with his mother. So even the saddest memories are never forgotten, so he can preserve as much of them as possible. They live through his memories, after all. 

Even when plain, his mother's meals provided him with more warmth than anything else back then. To feel that warmth decades later is a blessing he can't repay— but a blessing nonetheless. He doesn't have many memories like this one either, gentle and happy, contrary to the endless memories of struggling. He remembers their love so vividly right now, feels it so strongly, alongside yours— that he has no choice but to revel in it.

(Come tomorrow , when he's sober, puffy-eyed from crying and not as vulnerable, he'll have trouble figuring your reasoning. But for now, he'll be fine. Tonight, he'll go to sleep feeling loved. Tonight, his pets will cuddle him to sleep. Tonight, he'll dream of a Sigonia Only he knows.)

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A/N: I'm honestly still so embarrassed about this bc I have an idea but can't execute it like I want to and 🫠🫠 As always, comments and reblogs are really appreciated!! Thank you for reading <3

[zeninprincess]

rehab; a. hayakawa

wc: 3.6k | aki hayakawa x reader | nsfw 🔞

warning(s): mentions of nicotine addiction 🚬, toxic relationship (aki is neglectful partner, reader is too attached to aki), power dynamic, gaslighting, p in v, cunnilingus, fingering, blowjob, creampie, breeding 🥧

aki keeps saying that you're the one needed him as if he didn't need you when you left him. but then again, maybe you did need him as much as he needed his cigarettes

a/n: purple prose, im trying to expand my english vocabs. sorry if it's annoying. ty for understanding!! also guess what songs inspired me to write this.

i. withdrawal

aki loves to smoke even though he knew it would hurt his lungs, however it's hard not to smoke. he knew it could kill him someday yet he still do the very thing that might end him. smoking traps the man in a vicious cycle of needing to consume and feeling guilty to the point he'd stop smoking for a couple of day but then, withdrawal would hit him hard and before he knew it, he relapsed.

it's a never ending cycle of hurt, guilt, and a desire to burn. its addicting and when it hits you, it hits hard. to say that you hate that aki has an addiction to something as bad as cigarettes is an understatement, although you yourself is addicted to something else that hurts you. and it was love. you love him even though it hurts you, even when it rips your self worth apart.

you found yourself crying to sleep after an argument, but just like a smoker to nicotine, you can't get enough of him. in the morning you'd come to him and everything will be fine. he’ll pat you on your head and fucks you good. to say you needed him is an understatement but it's not far from the truth. you couldn't shake the feeling that you needed him, almost as if you were addicted to his presence. it was more than just a strong desire; it was a deep-seated need that seemed to consume you.

waking up in the dead of night, you couldn't feel his presence on his side of the bed. the duvet was cold, mirroring his words a few hours ago when you two were screaming at each other over the fact he rarely comes home. the coolness of the duvet being a stark reminder of his absence.

you'd find him on the balcony smoking. he does this everytime he can't sleep. and when he's done he'd flick them out on the street. you watch him as he inhale nicotine and exhale smoke.

perhaps you two are more alike than you've realized. both of you seem drawn to the thrill of danger, the adrenaline rush of near misses. addiction, in its various forms, seems to have a hold on both of you. the highs and lows of your tumultuous relationship, much like the intense cravings and withdrawals experienced by those addicted to substances, keep you both coming back for more. it's a dangerous cycle, fueled by the intense heat of your passion, akin to the burning sensation of aki's cigarettes.

remember, addiction can be a destructive force, and if left unchecked, it can lead to devastating consequences. thrilling sensation and feelings of hunger for love destroys you little by little.

being with aki really deconstructed you as a person. the way he made you feel so lonely yet fills your loneliness it was a paradoxical experience. you also felt that you're the only one who's trying in this relationship, aki acts like a broken radio, echoing nothing back to you. he kept you waiting, hoping he'd say something back or repay your effort but it was met with radio silence. he made you question your desirability with the way he treats you.

he's not a jerk who hurts you physically nor did he fool around with other chicks, sometimes you wish he did so it'll help you hate him and justify your actions. he just doesn't give any attention outside when he's dicking you down, he doesn't really give you praise or express his love to you. he just doesn't care that much. it's torturing you. it really looks like a one sided love to outsiders who don't know that you two are together.

but you're no saint either. aki felt like you were too attached to him, unhealthily. but that feelings of your inability to live without him is a better feeling than being loved by you. he felt alive and sober with you needing him. he loves your effort, though he hated the way you keep uttering phrases like

“do you love me aki?” you ask with puffy eyes.

to him, he's a silent lover only showing how much he loves you through hard love and his own way. he prefers working hard til morning than to cuddle with you after waking up because he wants you to live a comfortable life. he'd rather risk his life killing devils just to get minimum wage than see your feet swollen after taking orders for 6 hours a day as a waitress.

“a question that need not be asked nor answered” he replied as he drew a big one.

“you never took me out on dates anymore” you nagged.

“woman i cook dinner for you every time i'm home, besides it's not safe out there what if some devil eats you alive? what then? i'm not paying for your funeral when we could barely feed ourselves” he said in his neutral tone. you rolled your eyes. “you're not even at home every day aki”

“and you never told me how pretty i am”

“am i just a free dishwasher who you only fuck whenever you wanted?”

“have you ever cuddled me these days?”

“i guess i wasnt wrong when i say you're cheating huh? i guess thats why youre rarely home”

“answer me aki!!”

you were growing desperate after each question. and still he's soundless.

“god i hate you. please let me go aki. please i beg of you” this doesn't feel like home anymore, the strange foreign beauty in front of you didn't even bother looking your way as you paced to the shared bedroom and pack your belongings.

“i'm leaving you for good. goodbye aki, may we never cross paths ever again” you say for the thousandth time as you put on your coat and unlock the entrance to your freedom. hearing the slam of the door he could only sigh knowing you’ll be back.

you always come back.

right?

a week passed by and nothing changed except you're gone now and it's eating aki from inside. he fell deep into a spiraling mess, he didn't eat, did not sleep, he never came home instead he distracted himself by working incessantly. afterall, his sanctuary was gone, and the lingering scent of your perfume stuck inside the 16 by 16 unit you two used to share and it brings him to reality that the only trace of you left was the unwashed dishes and messy duvet from the day you left.

he isn't the same man anymore, he was just a shell of what once was inside. lost in his thoughts which were dominated by you, he sighed. today he's smoking at the park where you two met each other for the first time. ashes fall to the ground. he flicks off the half burned ciggy, he finds it hard to enjoy the cigarette not knowing where you are and who you're with.

you had him blocked off on every social media, you changed your number, cut your beautiful hair to above the shoulder it was a much needed reset. staying in a cheap motel, you found solace in nicotine. aki was right, smoking helped numb the pain and for a moment it gave you the illusion that aki was near you smoking on the balcony like how it used to be.

“may you never forget me aki hayakawa and the pain you've caused me” you muttered under your breath.

ii. anticipation

‘ahh~ ahhnn’

‘s-shoo good!! harder aki harder!!’

“Fffuck” up and down the shaft he copies the rhythm from the video. aki watches you bounce up and down his cock on his phone. you're so pretty all sticky and flustered like that on top of him. his body trembled in pleasure, eyes shut tightly and toes curling as he heard you moan on max volume.

“fuck name i need you so bad” he cried out as he rode the highs feeling the building up orgasm. he reminisce how tight and warm your pussy was around his cock. his heart pounds as he reaches orgasm, he calls out your name, riding the orgasm. in his mind you were there lapping his tongue while going up and down pounding your cervix letting him fill you up with his cum.

the fluid overflows from the tip of his cock to the duvet under him. the video still playing on his phone, he was brought back to reality. sitting at the edge of the bed naked, post nut clarity hits him. aki puts on his boxer before reaching to the bedside table for his cigarette box. seventeen minutes past midnight, aki had found out that the box was empty, sighing he put on his jeans and shirt. he needed a quick fix, thus he went to the convenience store across the street which was a familiar destination.

inside the convenience store, he picked one cigarette between selections of many. he picked the one with cotton candy flavour. it smelled like your perfume that has long gone in the span of 7 weeks. he tried everything in his power to keep the residual odour inside. going as far as refusing to open the window and balcony but it was no use because in the end he had inhaled all the scent.

at the same time you were walking home from the waitressing shift which you took since you needed money to pay rent. kicking the rock on the curbside, you reveal white stocking underneath your miniskirt you had to wear as it's part of the dress code. walking down the street near your old apartment. you stop by a convenience store, a familiar figure was leaning against the glass window. neon lights illuminates the figure. a smoke came out of his system.

his hair were longer, eyebags presents itself, he noticed you walking towards him. was that really you? he thought to himself. you wore a long coat, a mini skirt and a white blouse that hugged your figure just right and your hair, it's shorter now he didn't think you'd look that good in short hair. he knew you'd come back, though a bit longer than what he had anticipated.

your heels clicking against concrete, his eyes glimmering with hope as you get closer and closer. you clutch your handbag tightly. you stand beside him, leaning on the glass window before falling to your knees crying exhausted. aki removed the cigarette on his lips and crouched down to your level.

“i hate you but i don't have anywhere else to stay” you confessed, chin resting on your knees. “you have me. i'm where you're supposed to stay at” he said, hesitating to pat your back. as excited as he might be, he couldn't express the fact that his longing for you had ended the second you made eye contact with him.

you tilt your head towards him, “i missed you”

“come back to me doll” he say as he opened his arm far and wide waiting for you to fall into his hug to which you didn't take a second to do. you cried in his arms. you keep relapsing back to him no matter what you do. it's a bad habit yet you don't mind if you destroy your life chasing the never ending fire.

you took his hand and walk back to your forever home with him.

iii. relapse - intoxication

he kissed you incessantly on the way there, groping you all over your curves. as soon as the door closed he took your coat off and ripped open your blouse. buttons flew everywhere. still kissing you, his tongue explores your cave, one hand cupping your cheek, the other one fondling your breast. he broke the kiss for a moment to regain his breath.

“let me show you the way i love you dollface”

he sucks on your neck leaving a red mark, grinding his hardness on your exposed black laced panties. your skirt rode up to your navel, aki pinned you to the door. “mmm aki~” you cooed as he bury his face on the crook of your neck.

he picks you up in the bridal style to the bedroom. you sprawl yourself onto the sticky duvet, god knows what's making it sticky. ugh. your attention snapped back to the man who's pinning you on all fours. chills send down your spine as you're half naked. the room was dark. the only thing that illuminates the room was the moonlight.

“aki i know you want me but-” you paused, parallel to his hand that were fondling your mounds. “i'm here to crash not to stay”

“yeah yeah keep yapping angel i know you” his pepper kisses on your mound felt like a rapid fire. using your free hand you unzipped his pants, freeing his member. “you think you can leave me that easily? nuh uh baby. you're addicted to me” that cocky remark really did something to you because now your folds are soaked.

“shit we got hurricane katrina under here”

after cupping your pussy through your panties he felt how damp it was. he slid it down to your thighs. his index finger circles your clit, you writhe in pleasure, moaning loudly as he keeps torturing your clit enjoying the way you tremble in pleasure each time his plush finger flicks your clit. “ahn- aki!!” you screamed, at this point your neighbours probably has heard your unholy mewls.

he undresses you properly before opening his clothes. you two are naked now. he sat on the bed. leaning himself against the headboard, his cock twitches. aki looks at you, he waits in anticipation as you begin to lubricate your hand with your spit. you pump your fist around his member, he moans as you move your hand up and down. lowering your head, his tip kisses your plush lips. precum overflows, god you are heavenly.

aki is enjoying your sweet time, licking and kissing his cock, worshipping him. he's afraid this feeling might turn into a full blown addiction, he loves the whole thing, the 7 weeks, the emotional turmoil he felt when you left, and the happiness when you came running back to him. he loves your hopelessness, he loves that you're addicted to him, and especially he loves the way you're choking on his cock right now. “s too big akii” tears running down your eyes, yet you keep bobbing your head on his shaft. such a hypocrite.

“you're acting as if we've never done this before baby” he grabs a handful of your hair and slams your head down to his cock. spit and cum pools on your mouth and cheeks. “god you're such ah~” he moans “s-slut” you fasten your pace and sucking on his cock harder to stimulate him. not long after you change pace, thick ropes of cum spurt on your mouth “ffuck” his eye rolls in pleasure.

this was so long overdue, it was what you two needed after all. communication maybe the key to a good relationship but nothing beats a good sloppy head. “you're so pretty. fuck when was the last time we did this?”

“um like 6 fucking months ago? since you're so busy you just go straight to bed” you replied with a hint of annoyance on your tone.

“get on all fours since you wanna be a bitch” he smacks your ass before getting behind you waiting for you to get on all fours. “jerk” is all that you can say before his tongue assaults your folds. and all you can do is shriek in surprise before you melt in his mouth. he flicks his tongue, eating you out, making out with your pussy. his hands grips your rear end you're positive it'll leave a nice red mark in the morning. he pulls out with a hitching breath with a string of saliva being the only reason his lips are still connected to your pretty pink pussy. “god you're so sexy” he watched your trembling body from behind your only response was to pull his head back to your pussy. “you're awful at this aki” feeling challenged, aki enters two digit inside while he sucks on your clit you can feel him smirking when you tremble.

feeling your pussy tightens, he pulls out his digits, denying you the pleasure of cumming. he smacks your ass with his hand again.

“uhn aki why did you do that” you changed position into laying back

he didn't mutter a word, instead he spit on his cock, preparing to enter you. spreading your legs apart. he looks godly like this, with his hair down, sweat trickling down his toned abs, and the way he eye you down like a predator preparing to strike its prey. he smacks his cock on your wet pussy.

“were doing it raw tonight, ill make sure you're pregnant with my bastard after this is done” he said

while waiting in anticipation, you watch him as he spit on his cock, lubricating it so it'll slide easier inside your tight pussy hole. you felt your core burning inside. then he spreads your legs apart, his cock dangling, sticking on your fold. using one hand he guides his long thick erect member inside you. you hissed as he brute forced his way inside of you.

“fuck- that's it baby, take it all” he kissed your forehead before licking your tears away.

“ngghhh aki~ i can't take it anymore”

“shh baby, you're doing so good” he starts moving in and out of your pussy.

fuck, he needed this, more than cigarettes. listening to your mewls and looking at your hair sticking on your bare skin, you drooling, pussy clenching his dick tightly just like the way you hug him, you just can't let go of him.

and it took him all his fibre muscle not to cum right now. you scratch his back just enough to make him shudder in pain and pleasure. he definitely needed to make you a mama. wet sloppy sounds echoing in the small room, mixed with a faint sound of bed creaking.

“aki I cant- I'm gonna-” he cuts you off by sucking your tits. “ahhh fuck. aki I'm gonna cum”

his mouth left your nipples, “yeah you're gonna cum f’me baby?” he looks at you with those puppy eyes of his that he only showed you when he's lovesick.

“fuck name, let's do it together. get pregnant with my kids yeah?” he asks you hoping you'd let him knock you up. your mind was hazy as climax approached you couldn't think of anything else but cumming. “yes! yes aki! please make me pregnant!!” he thrusts deeper before finally feeling how tight your hole is, clenching him tighter by the second. hot liquid fills your womb while you squirt your cum all over his cock. you felt a little touch of death, aki fell on top of you, arms around your waist, cock still snuggling inside of you.

heavy breathing paced between you and aki. he kissed your eyelids, spouting praises and sweet talks. you've never felt so loved before. face buried on his neck you struggled to breath with aki on top of you, and only you can know how nice it felt to be so closed like this even when you're crushed under his weight. aki, noticing the way you struggle to breath moved himself beside you. he grabbed a cigarette from the mahogany table near the creaking bed, he reached for the silver plated lighter adjoining the pack. this habit of cigarettes after sex wasn't unknown of aki.

“i know you'll come back to me eventually” aki fires away his sassy remark while inhaling the fumes. hands extending to his, you reached for the cigarette that sits between the plush pale lips of his. it's your turn now.

“my landlord kicked me out” you confessed. “i don't miss you aki” but this was probably a lie, a snort came out of aki as he eyed you. smoke escaped your lips while you were spatting out those words.

“you needed me name” but maybe aki did need you too, maybe more than you needed him. it's ironic how akis now the one addicted to the burning sensation of you, things have flipped around.

“you're the one that's been babbling about me til now. let's talk about how you actually feel bro. but for starters, fuck you and all of your shits aki. i missed you” sigh escaped your lips

“i want you to need me like you need your cigarettes. i hate to admit this but i'm jealous of the devils you hunt everyday, i wish you'd dedicate your time to me the way you dedicate it to do your job that doesn't even pay you that good aki. is it that hard to do so?”

aki took the cigarette out of your mouth. he sat up, his digits traced your moon lit skin, separating baby hairs that sticks from your forehead. “atleast tell me how much you care about me aki” he laughed at that statement not in a mocking way, but in a playful way.

“im sorry for treating you the way i've treated you”

love can be as addicting as nicotine, it's craving as intense, and withdrawal will always be as painful as a heartbreak. and just like a smoker needs their fix, a lover needs love to fill the absence they feel.

he ruffles your hair, finishing his cigarette.

“thank you”

even when you know all these are just talk no substance, you still feel at bliss. aki himself smiled before he kissed you and one day you'll learn that love doesn't need to feel like a nicotine in the sense of it's addicting. and that sometimes, it's best to let go of the remaining cigarette before it reaches the end of the stick and burns your lips. but for now, bask in the intoxicating warmth and the overwhelming intensity because rehab isn't needed when destruction feels this good.

©️ zeninprincess 2024. reposting, plagiarizing, translating or claiming my works are strictly forbidden.

[photmath]

Wrong Impressions | Trent Alexander-Arnold (Part Two)

Pairing: Trent Alexander-Arnold x Reader

PART ONE written by the lovely @karotland, would strongly recommend reading that first.

Summary: Stoic, serious Trent walks around campus with murder on his face and is quite the no-nonsense class partner, frustrating you with his anti-social antics. Flustered and feeling guilty after he finds out about how you insulted him, you seek him out at a house party to apologize only to find a whole new Trent, leaving you with a lot of questions.

Word Count: 6.3k

Warnings: SMUT (18+), suggestive and implied, drinking, cursing

Note: Huge thank you to my girl Karo for letting me write a second part, ilysm and I hope I didn't disappoint (plz lie) <33. This was quite fun, can't believe I agreed to it but I'm so glad I did in the end! Kk love you bunches bye.

After finding Maddie back up on the balcony, you plopped down hard onto the seat next to her. She gave you an all-knowing look, lips tugging into a smirk.

“What?” you furrowed your eyebrows.

“You have a look,” her eyes narrowed as she tried to piece together the pieces. “Did you talk to Trent?”

“Yes,” you reply matter of factly, straightening up your posture. “And you were wrong, turns out we won’t be the 0.1% exception because he’s going to talk to me starting Monday.” You wiggled your hips in the chair as you gave her a satisfied smile. However, instead of congratulating you for not being a part of this ‘mathematical wonder,’ she gave you a displeased look.

“You do realize what today is?”

“Friday?”

“You won’t talk to Trent until Monday?” she raises her brows, “even though you’re in his house now? And he’s—” she peers over the balcony, “—right down there? Actually, they’re making their way over here.”

You rose to the balls of your feet immediately, looking down at the raucous boys and Angela from over the balcony. There you saw Trent once again laughing at something Jude said with his arm slung over him as if he’d escape from underneath him.

“How am I supposed to make out with Jude if you’re going to be clinging onto me all night?”

You roll your eyes, sitting back down in the chair with a huff, “It’s not like I’ll be alone. I can chat with the others.” You knew Maddie was only joking, having been split up from her numerous times at other parties.

“And Trent?”

“And Trent.”

“Good,” Maddie smiles, finally satisfied with your answer. But she isn’t done yet, her lips curling up into another grin, “I saw that earlier.”

“Saw what?”

“The look you gave him.”

You didn’t like how vague she was because you looked at Trent now a couple of times throughout the night, but you didn’t think your facial expressions were very obvious.

Her gum smacked loudly as she blew out a bubble, “Were you jealous?”

“No,” you crossed your arms.

“Oh come on, you see him talking to Angela and you go all quiet and suddenly say, ‘I’ll be back.’ And then off you go, stomping until you get to him.”

“I wasn’t stomping,” you laughed, rubbing the nervousness out of your arms. Why did Maddie’s words have this effect on you? Sure you were jealous, but you were jealous because Trent never once gave you that ounce of socialization.

Maddie shook her head once before dismissing the conversation, “Do you want to go inside? I’m getting a bit cold.”

You nod hastily, glad the attention is drawn away from you because god how loud was Maddie talking? Anne seemed to still be preoccupied with the others talking about another ex from her past, but noise traveled between floors it seems and you learned just how easily Trent could overhear conversations.

Sliding back inside, the purple lights and booming music greet you once again. Instinctively, you scan the kitchen and living room for a place for you to stand and chat with friends but your eyes connect with Trent’s as the front door opens. His smile is faint but quickly interrupted once Jude tumbles in from behind him and beelines towards the kitchen where a teammate of his is pouring shots.

Trent, on the other hand, takes his time. He holds the door open for the rest of them to come inside and once Angela comes in last, she perks her head up at him. Trent looks down at her quizzically and whispers something into her ear, making her laugh while he just wears a smirk. You feel the little green monster again, like a gear wanting to turn but a rock was wedged in the middle of it so now it’s grinding loudly in your ears.

You shake off the feeling, turning completely around and facing the direction of the kitchen. Jude downs the shot and then immediately hands one to Maddie—who somehow slipped out of your grip and found her way towards him. She throws her head back once she grabs it from him. You stay mingling around the kitchen, chatting with friends and meeting the ones you don’t recognize.

Feeling a hand brush up on your arm, you turn around to see Trent giving you a soft smile as he moves behind you. You return the friendly smile back, but you aren’t familiar with the feeling that washes over you once he continues to walk past you. Disappointment perhaps? It would be a lie to say that you hadn’t thought he was coming up to you to chat. So watching him now practically steal Jude away from Maddie, you’re left a tad bit annoyed.

Just as you’re about to make your way out of the kitchen and into the living room where a few others are dancing, a calloused but warm hand wraps around your wrist and stops you. He carries a bottle while staring at you, gesturing to Jude and Maddie, “Do you want to take a shot?”

You briefly glance back at the two, their heads nodding eagerly as they await your answer. Well, why not. You concede, “Just one.”

Trent smirks, lining up four glasses and then pouring what you assume is vodka although you can’t make out the title on the bottle. The four of you down the shot at the same time, you cringing at the burn that goes zipping down your throat. But then you and Maddie holler the moment you two recognize the song that starts playing through the speakers. She reaches out for your hand to dance with her in the small space between the counters and island of the kitchen.

You don’t notice Trent’s lingering gaze on you, or the smile that can’t leave his face as he watches you throw your hands up in the air as if you didn’t care who watched.

An hour into more chatting and dancing, you found yourself desperately searching for an open restroom because seriously who was taking so long in the guest restroom? Trent nurses a red cup to his lips as you find him, standing on your tippy toes to ask, “Is there another restroom that I can use?”

Trent glances at the restroom across the hall and then motions his head upstairs. He speaks but his words are inaudible from the speaker being right next to the both of you. You scrunch up your face and tilt your head and for a brief second, he seems amused. He leans down to yell into your ear, “Follow me!”

The brush of his lips against your ears sends you in a daze. Your feet stay glued on the floor until he passes you, holding out his hand for you to follow him. And his hand. It feels like it’s on fire as he intertwines your fingers tightly with his. He gives your hand a squeeze, maybe to make the grip tighter but you don’t know. He weaves you through the mass of sweating and dancing bodies until he gets to the stairs, you both walking up still hand in hand even though no one was in the way to separate you. The corridor is dark as he stops to open a bedroom door, finally releasing your hand gently as he turns on the light.

You recognize it immediately as his bedroom, the few photos that line his dresser and the same bookbag and football bag that he carried on the floor next to it. His green sheets are neatly tucked into his bed frame, his room overall very clean for a guy.

“You can just use mine,” he points to the door across his bedroom.

“Thank you so much, Trent,” you sigh. You quickly rush into the restroom and almost freeze again at how clean it is. Seriously there was no way his restroom was one wink cleaner than yours.

Once you finish, you expect the room to be empty but Trent is still there standing against the doorframe. A couple beads of sweat line his forehead as he swipes them, then looking up at you, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you smile. “I’m okay.”

“The weather,” he indulges, “getting cold, hmm?”

You break into a laugh, feeling a little nervous to have all his attention in his bedroom after using his restroom. You stand a couple of steps in front of him, peering up at him, “It is, didn’t expect the temperature to drop so suddenly in the past hour.”

“Bummer,” he mentions. “I wanted to sit on the balcony.”

Gosh, his eyes are really brown.

Trent bursts into an abrupt laugh, his head falling forward and dimples deep into his cheeks as he peers up at you. You feel a little giddy getting this sudden reaction at him, chuckling back at him despite your heart swelling at the way he’s looking at you.

“Thank you, darling, for noticing the color of my eyes.”

You slap your hand over your mouth, eyes wide as your cheeks rush with heat, “I said that out loud?”

“You did.”

“Oh my god—”

“It’s okay,” Trent muses, he picks up his head and leans it against the doorframe. Chewing the gum he suddenly has in his mouth, you’re memorized by the way his jaw clenches over and over again. Embarrassment is now mixing with another feeling as Trent continues to look at you through his hooded eyelids. Your cheeks feel a little flushed, and you knew your mouth was not going to want to stay closed tonight if he were to continue. Because gosh, the urge to impulsively speak never felt so strong until now.

You brush off whatever dust was on your shorts, deciding to be strong, “We should head back.”

He nods, turning off the light and closing the door. You make it downstairs faster than he does in order to lose yourself in the crowd. Not like Trent would miss you, he had his eyes on you the moment he walked back into his house.

You don’t even realize you’re searching for Maddie until your phone pings, Maddie’s message reads that they’re on the balcony getting some air with some friends. As you make your way to the balcony door, you internally groan knowing you’d be a little cold but there was still some alcohol running through you that could keep you somewhat warm.

You seem to be interrupting a conversation as you sit down on one of the couches, Anne screaming at you to agree, “Tell Jude I’m not lying.”

Jude’s arm is slung over Maddie as he laughs loudly, his head falling onto her shoulder. You chuckle, “She isn’t lying.”

You fall into conversation quickly among them, only glancing up once Trent walks out. He shuts the door behind him and sits down in the only empty space next to you, spreading his legs and arms out wide as he settles in.

“Get too hot in there for you?” you question.

He nods, “Music’s buzzin’ the ears.”

You don’t mean to stare at him, but the chain necklace he wears sitting against his already tight white tee leaves little to the imagination and makes you give him a double take. He looked so good underneath this one dim light out on the balcony. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it wasn’t, but the desire to be closer to him consumed you. However, you fought it, not wanting to embarrass yourself more.

Not realizing the conversation stirred onto you, you give the others a puzzled look as they turn towards you.

“Yeah, I don’t ever see you with a man,” Anne agrees. Your eyebrows furrow immediately, feeling breathless as you realize where the conversation is going. “We all thought Johnny would be endgame, you know?”

“Aww, do you remember when he planned out that ‘date-but-not-a-date’ for her and then he had to cancel because he got a flat tire?” Maddie asks, snickering. “It was so romantic. A picnic underneath the stars, did you guys ever reschedule?”

You wanted to dig yourself into a hole and never show face again. In front of Trent? This was quite possibly one of the most embarrassing moments of your life and it was astonishing at just how many moments from tonight made that list.

It takes you everything to not look at Trent’s reaction but he stays quiet. You find the courage to say, “We actually did.”

“You two were so cute,” Maddie gushes.

Jude jumps up from his seat, “I fuckin’ love this song!” The speaker from inside the house played a very dulled-out song but it was still a bit distinguishable. And suddenly you were thankful for the existence of Jude Bellingham, especially the loud, always-interrupting person he was when he was drunk. He starts dancing alone, his cup still in his hand as he looks towards you, “Come on, dance with me.”

You get up quickly, wanting the comments about Johnny to stop before they get any deeper. Your hand stays intertwined with one of Jude’s as he dances off-beat. He was too drunk to find it or even care about it, you going along with him. The girls cheer out loud for the both of you, and you don’t even want to look at Trent to figure out what he’s thinking about.

And you definitely don’t want to care about what Trent is thinking about when the door opens and Angela comes stumbling out. She dances with the two of you for a few seconds before plopping down beside Trent, in the very seat you were in just seconds before. You can’t help it, you glance in his direction and his eyes are already on yours, stoic but glimmering.

“He’s gonna kill me,” Jude whispers loudly in your ear. You’re almost sure that Trent heard him, but you can’t even think about it because Jude’s body stumbles forward. You try to grip onto his shoulder to steer him upright but his cup goes flying in between the two of you, spilling dramatically on both of your chests.

Gosh, how full was his cup to drench your entire blouse?

“Jude,” you groan.

“Sorry,” he mumbles sheepishly. He lets go and plops down on the couch, groaning as he holds his head in his hands. Looking down at your blue blouse, you notice just how thin the material of it is and quickly shield your exposed chest with your arm. The girls' eyes widen as they turn looking for something to cover you with. Before you can even think, Trent stands up and brushes your arm and back, motioning you towards the door.

“I—”

“I can give you my jacket.”

You nod, ignoring Angela’s sulking, relieved to get some kind of solution for your problem. Trent intertwines your hands together and leads you to his room—again. His thumb brushing against the back of your hand doesn’t go unnoticed by you, you even look down at where they conjoined. The swooning feeling in your chest comes back.

“This is so embarrassing,” you mutter as you finally reach his bedroom, your arm still splayed across your chest as he closes his door.

He chuckles, “Well Angela does exist so…”

“Trent!” you scold. He digs through his closet and pulls down a dark red hoodie. He slips off the hanger and hands it to you.

“I can um—dry your clothes if you’d like.”

You cringe, “That’s even more mortifying.”

Trent shrugs, “I can be discreet, darling. Plus, why are you suddenly shy after you were practically spitting out everything that was on your mind earlier?”

You snatch the hoodie from his hand, “Earlier my nipples weren’t peeking out of my shirt, Trent.”

He smirks, stifling a chuckle out of his mouth and nodding his head, “I guess that’s true.”

You smack his shoulder with his hoodie and go into his restroom. Only in there did you notice just how ridiculous you looked with the giant stain on your blouse that drenched you. You attempt to squirm out of the shirt but only then do you remember about the stupid few buttons on the back of the shirt. There was no way you were going to be able to twist the shirt without popping a few strands. You grumble, knowing you needed Trent’s help.

“Trent?” you call out softly. There’s some rustling on the other end of the door before he hums out a response. “Do you mind unbuttoning my shirt?”

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah.” There was no other way to hold the shirt up without it being on the verge of completely falling once those buttons unclasped. You held onto it for dear life as Trent opened the door hesitantly.

Trent’s fingers tentatively grab a hold of the first button. His fingers feel too big to maneuver such a tiny button out of its threaded loop. The lack of air in the restroom doesn’t seem to help either. He felt like he was choking, as if he was holding onto his breath as he focused on the task and not your bare back.

“Almost done?” you ask, trying to control your shuddering breath. You hoped your back wasn’t a replica of your arms that were now clad in goosebumps.

“I can’t even get the first button,” he spat. His voice was curt, almost agitated that it made you grow a little impatient because he had been trying for a while now. But his voice also seemed to resonate in your ear drums, reverberating back and forth because of how close he was to you. The warmth of the room felt palpable. “My fingers are too big.”

“Just focus harder,” you grit, getting hot.

“That’s what I’m doing.”

You let out a shaky sigh, it catches Trent’s attention and he tries to shudder it away but it only makes his hands shake even more. He rests his palms against your back and it makes you squirm, not expecting the feeling of his hands on your skin.

“Sorry,” he rasps, finally getting his hands to stop shaking and unclasp the first button. “Thank fuck.”

Your knees buckle at his words, him dropping one of his hands to settle onto your waist and stabilize you. Your hips bump into the front of his and you immediately regain balance. His fingertips burn into your waist as he asks, “Are you okay?”

“Think I’m still a little tipsy.”

Trent snorts, “I don’t think so.”

“How would you know?”

His hands go back to work on the second button, “Think you sobered up quite quickly once they mentioned Johnny. Or,” he stops talking and his fingers still, “once Angela walked out. Don’t think I didn’t see your face.”

“I was dancing with Jude, I didn’t even notice her.”

“Yeah?” he chuckles. He makes sure to snicker right into your ear, “Did you forget you danced with her too?”

The last button unclasps and you immediately feel it loosen against your back. You turn around, still clutching onto your shirt, as he wears a lousy smirk. He had caught you in a lie but you weren’t going to let him win just yet.

“Like I said, I’m still a little tipsy I can’t remember.”

Trent’s one-sided grin only grows and his eyes darken from amusement to something else that you can’t quite read. You weren’t familiar with the different emotions of him, only certified in his one stoic facial expression but this was an entirely different person you were meeting tonight. One that you definitely enjoyed. This was the most you ever heard him talk.

His head falls down, glancing at the mirror and then back at you, “Alright then, darling, whatever you say.”

“You’re such an ass,” you whine, pushing him out the door with one hand.

He laughs, “Sober!”

You roll your eyes, wishing the last bit of alcohol gave you the confidence to withstand his gaze. Usually you could banter with him any way you wanted but for whatever reason you felt like you were going to say the wrong thing by accident tonight. You had already slipped up about his eyes and god you hated how you could feel that you were going to say something more. Something potentially less innocent than the color of his eyes. He had a tendency to make you not want to bite your tongue in general.

His hoodie smells a lot like him as you pull it over him, earthy and piney. You bunch your shirt in your hands, and glance at yourself one more time in the mirror before you open the door. Trent leans against his dresser, slipping his phone back into his pocket once you step out.

“Ready to go back out?”

You bite onto your cheek. You weren’t. You seriously didn’t like the way Angela was riling you up for whatever reason. Trent had already said they weren’t dating, shut that idea down quickly but it…gnawed at you? You weren’t even sure what you were feeling.

“No way,” he whispers.

You look up at him and he has an open-mouthed smile on him, was he shocked? But he also looked like he just figured out how to do a hard math problem. Your eyebrows pinch, “What?”

“I didn’t think it was true, but—I heard you talking to Maddie on the balcony when she asked if you were jealous. You lied to her, didn’t you?” There’s a smile on his face that’s he trying to control, as if he were going to burst into a shit-eating grin so wide but he was holding himself back.

Immediately you shake your head, denying, “What?”

And there it is, the laugh. His head falls back too. “Bah, c’mon, don’t try to lie to me now.”

“I’m not jealous.”

“You shouldn’t be,” he said. His voice drops down an octave, “There’s nothing going on between Angela and I.”

“Why would I be jealous of you and her?”

He shrugs, “I don’t know either.”

Seriously, how could he just hear every damn whisper? There was no way you were going to dig yourself out of this. And quite frankly you were a little fed up, from Jude spilling his drink on you to Trent taking forever in the restroom to undo your shirt. Your patience had run thin.

You groan, rolling your eyes as you cross your arms, “It was the alcohol.”

He chuckles, stepping towards you, “You usually yap, alcohol or none.”

You roll your eyes again, “I was jealous because of how easy it was for you to talk to everyone except me.”

He tilts his head, taking another step towards you until you have to tilt your head to look up at him. His smile is sincere, “We’re talking now. Even if you’re lying just a little, I’ll take it.” He holds up his first two fingers with a small gap between them.

The giggle from your throat can’t help but to escape, despite it being hoarse. His eyebrows barely furrow as he notices it but doesn’t comment on it. Thank goodness.

“Besides,” he continues, “it’s much easier for you to hear me in here than it was out there.” His hands wrap around the hood, pulling it over your head and squeezing the strands together so it tightens around you.

“Trent!” you yell, you only make out the bottom half of his body and it suddenly comes a lot closer. He’s laughing as he nudges you against the wall, but backing off so you don’t feel trapped.

You pull off the hoodie once you find your balance, “What was that for?”

He shrugs so nonchalantly that you push him back. He stumbles onto his bed with the widest smile you had ever seen from him. It looked so unnatural as it was aimed towards you that it made your cheeks feel more incredibly hot.

“Wow,” you breathe out. His eyebrows shoot up, amusing you once again. But those doe eyes catch your attention. They were so expressive without effort and it damn near put you in a trance. A trance that would’ve led you straight into his lap had you two not felt heavy steps coming upstairs.

Trent looked immediately to the door and noticed it wasn’t locked, leaping off his bed and in a few long strides he was locking it. He then turned off the overhead light and used his phone’s screen as a source of light. You hadn’t realized his blinds were open until the moon casts its shadow down into the room.

“What the fuck?” You let out the breath you held after watching him run. There’s a sudden knock on the door and the handle jiggles but it doesn’t bulge.

“Trent, I have to piss man,” Jude pleads. Trent presses his finger to his lips as he glances towards you. You would be lying if this didn’t somehow send adrenaline through you. He was seriously hiding in his bedroom from Jude of all people.

There’s another frantic knock, and then the shoving of the door. Jude’s groan sounds so loud, “You fuckin’ twat.” It’s the last thing he says before he walks down the corridor and Trent chuckles quietly.

“You’re cruel,” you tease, walking towards him. He still hadn’t turned the light back on.

“All the other rooms are open,” he shrugs. “He’ll be fine.” He opts for turning on a lamp, turning it on the lowest setting and it’s so dim that it might as well be off.

As he walks towards his bed, he stops, turning back to you. His eyes narrow slightly as you put your hands on your hips, “What now?”

“You said Johnny and you were just close?” he starts. Of course. “But the picnic?”

“Friends can’t just go on picnics?”

He chuckles, “Did he know that?”

“Well he does now. There’s nothing between us. I didn’t like him like that, the girls just always teased us.”

Trent nods, satisfied with your answer, “Okay, enough about him.”

“Please,” you reply meekly.

“You’re the one who usually talks, maybe you should yap more.”

“Quit saying I yap.”

“Yapping about the weather, about class, about—”

You walk over to his bed and throw a pillow at his head. He goes splatting onto his side, you not realizing just how hard you actually held onto the pillow once you swung. Oops…

But he’s up in an instant, on his feet and pushing you back until you hit your back against the wall. A small ‘oomph’ slips out of your mouth that he lets go of your wrists, looking down at your face with a flash of worry, “Sorry—”

“Asshole.” But god were you so turned on with his chest being merely inches away.

And his face is back, “Oh, you’re okay.”

His watchful gaze looking down at you makes you swallow the slick remark down your throat. Wow. Where were his hands at? And just how far were you from him? It was either his eyes or that stupid useless lamp that made you lose sense of distance.

“Are you…okay?” he rasps. You watch as his throat bobbles as he rakes over your face, making you fight every urge to look away from his hard gaze.

“I’m fine,” you manage. His lip twitches as he glances down, it’s only then did you realize that his hand managed to go around your waist. You didn’t know how you didn’t feel it, especially because it went entirely underneath the hoodie. His bare hand was touching the skin of your back and your throat bubbled as he took his time slipping it out. Do not make a sound. Do not make a sound.

You didn’t have to make a sound to realize his movement awakened every fiber in your body. The hoodie suddenly felt ridiculously hot, like walking outside in the middle of summer with it on. If you weren’t leaning on the wall, you would’ve lost your balance right then and there.

And just as Trent’s fingertips are about to let go of you entirely, he lets them stray. In reality, they only touched such a small space of you but they felt suffocating, as if they were engulfing the entirety of you. Exploring you without hesitancy.

For whatever reason, whatever luck that wasn’t on your side, his lamp began to flicker until it went out completely. And just like that, a sliver of the moon’s light shined on his face.

“Did that—”

“It does that,” he mutters. “It’s old, have to give it a good tap.”

“Oh.”

Words escaped you as you felt him lean a little more into you. The sudden brain that never stopped thinking of a witty response was quiet, only thinking about how close he was. How his eyes seemed so tender. The softest they had ever been before. And gah! Even when there’s so little light his eyes look so brown.

“You had on a nice shirt.”

“Everyone saw my nipples,” you say, wanting to slap your hand over your mouth. Why did you choose to say those words at this very time?

He laughs, it’s gruff and it only goes in one ear, giving you goosebumps on that side. “Well, not everyone.” His head dips closer to your ear. “Only the girls saw them.”

“Then how did you know,” you look up at him as he reels his head back slowly. His fingertips slide to the back of your hip, finally putting his palm down and you stifle what might be a moan. Seriously, you need to get yourself together.

“It wasn’t rocket science to put two and two together, darling.”

And you couldn’t do it anymore. There were so many words and so little touch shared in the time that you’ve been pressed against the wall. You guide his free hand to your waist and settle yours around his neck. There is a brief look of shock in his eyes but it goes away as quickly as it appeared.

His breath hitches as your fingertips scratches the nape of his skin. His eyes flicker down to your lips and if he wasn’t going to make the first move, then hell you might as well go for it. Your hand slips down to his chest, balling up the white fabric and pulling him down. His lips crash onto yours feverishly, his breathing heavy as he pulls you closer to him.

You aren’t expecting to feel him through his jeans when your hips clash, so the gasp that leaves your mouth is unrestrained. God. Your hands are slipping down his chest and finding the hem of his pants but it’s so dark, the moon only shining on his face. His lips graze your neck as he squirms once you press your palm against him. His teeth sink into the skin near your shoulder as you pull on the button of his pants.

Before you could unbutton them, he pries your hands off of them and raises them over your head, pinning them down with just one hand. Did he have to look so hot doing that? You couldn’t help the whimper that left your mouth, him smirking as he pressed his hips further into you. He was so hard that you wondered if he was in pain, and how quickly you could slither out of his grasp and relieve him.

But he pulls back, and the frown you make is by instinct. He brings down your hands slowly to your side and you frown even harder, “Why did you stop?”

“Are you sure?” he asks.

“Yeah, I’m not drunk.”

“Walk in a straight line then,” he jokes, tugging the hem of the hoodie towards him.

You roll your eyes, a grin overtaking your scowl as you let him pull you towards the bed. You were so turned on it was ridiculous. He sits down on the bed and you can make out his head turning in your direction, waiting for you to join him.

“No more teasing,” you warn, unbuttoning your pants and shrugging them off. “Just sex.” You don’t even wait for him to pull you down, you settle in his lap as if you had been in this position many times before with him.

His eyebrows rise at your bright pink underwear, but he’s more amused with your words, “What’s the magic word?”

“Trent,” you grip onto his shoulders tightly as he laughs. His hands settle on your hips, teasing the area of where your panties met the hoodie. “Please.”

“Okay.”

The smile that raises his cheeks is so charming that you can’t help but to gently pinch them. But you kiss him as if he’s withholding coffee from you. So rabidly that he had to fall back onto stretched elbows to keep himself up. He dragged himself up to the center of the bed and pulled you with him.

The two of you groaned at the friction of your hips once you sat back down on him. His hands slipped underneath your—his—hoodie and immediately settled on your hard nipples. They had been bruising against the fabric of the hoodie, so the moan you let out was pure relief as he squeezed them. Your hand already wrapped around the length of him through his boxers.

“Fuck,” he grunts, hiking up his hips and shimming out of his pants. His grip is tight as he then peels off the hoodie, leaving you exposed but it doesn’t take long for him to find your breasts with his mouth and hand. And of course his other hand wandered and teased the hem of your underwear. His knuckles brushed against your clit through the fabric that you didn’t have any shame sinking further onto them and rocking your hips.

Once he flipped the two of you over, his touch was careful but firm. Very attentive to the sweet sounds of your arousal and the whimpers of every touch. He wasn’t shy about being vocal either. Especially when it came to his ragged breathing, the feeling of his breath creating goosebumps on your skin in its wake.

The feeling of his cold chain sliding down your body put you into a frenzy that you almost felt bad for how hard your thighs clamped around his head but he didn’t seem to mind.

And that chain continued to bounce against you with each thrust and that alone had you wrapping your legs around him and pulling him down to kiss you. You could feel his lips turning into a sloppy smile that it made you laugh as you pecked his cheek afterward.

Even if his face radiated with innocence, his hands sliding down to give you one more tease sure didn’t. You squirmed once his thumb landed on your clit and sure as hell wasn’t ready for the sudden pinch of your nipple with his other.

“Oh my god—” his lips slid down your jaw and neck, sucking on the supple skin. You didn’t even care if he marked you, your attention so far gone because between the feeling of him so deep inside you, his thumb circling your clit, fingers alternating between a pinch and a ghost of a touch around your nipple, and his warm mouth and breath on your neck, you weren’t even sure what to focus on. It all felt so unreal.

And yet somehow he held you as you rode out the numbing feeling taking over you. Vision clouding as you felt him slip out of you as he tenderly massaged your breasts and then let out a small gasp as he came as well. He nuzzled his lips onto your cheek and neck, breath heavy as he collapsed beside you. He pulled you closer to him and then ran his hands over your thighs in a soothing manner.

God. You almost wanted to cry at how euphoric you felt but there was no way you were going to let go of that much pride in one night.

His eyes flutter open as you already look back at him. He lets out a shy laugh, “Didn’t expect you to be so quiet.”

“I was shocked the entire time.”

“In a good or bad way?”

“In the best way.”

He beams, pulling you closer to him and kissing your forehead, “Seeing you in my fucking hoodie. I couldn’t control myself anymore.”

“I was waiting for you to rip it off of me,” you sassed.

“I knew I should’ve bent you over in the restroom and fucked the brat out of you.”

“I’d love to see you try,” you encouraged and he picked his head up, surely offended, but you were on the tallest cloud that you didn’t care. “Plus, your hands were shaking so much that I don’t think—”

Trent shut you up with his lips. His hands taut around your neck as he shushes you in the way he should’ve done hours ago.

--

Come Monday morning, you were starting to grow restless staring at the empty seat next to you. Trent had a minute to spare before class started and he should’ve been here a minute ago. The two of you texted over the weekend, nothing spectacular but nothing too boring. You hoped you hadn’t bothered him with too many words and scared him away. Maybe your watch was a minute behind—

A white cup suddenly lands harshly in front of you, a strong hand wrapped around it until they let go. The smell of coffee seeps out of it so strongly that it itches your brain. You look over to see Trent, a frantic but bashful smile on his face as he sits down, never taking his eyes off of you. He has his own cup as well.

“That rain, such a sudden downpour,” he chimes. “So heavy that I almost ran late.”

You can’t help that gleeful smile that stretches all the muscles of your cheeks that you don’t know existed; you must’ve look crazy, you are sure. Every facial muscle hurt in that second but you don’t care as you wrap your arms around him. He laughs as he pecks your cheek and then gives your waist a squeeze.

It was sunny outside. No chance of rain or even a cloud.

---

taglist: @lunamelona @akg2000 @0rangesuga @ell-alexanderarnold @emunds

[rubycruzin4abruzin]

Forbidden Crown - I

Summary: As a princess, your parents choose your spouse, and they decide it’s time to start looking shortly after your fifth birthday. However, when your parents decide to unite kingdoms with Tir Asleen and introduce you to Prince Airk, you’re seemingly more drawn to his twin sister, Kit.

Pairing: kit tanthalos x princess!reader

Contains: fluff, matchmaking, childlike play, kisses to mimic adult behavior, pure innocence

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: Welcome to the first chapter of Forbidden Crown! It’s a coming of age story, so in this chapter, our main characters are five years old, but in the next, they’ll be ten, and so on. Not too much happens in this chapter, but I promise it’ll get a lot juicier later. Enjoy! :)

As a princess, you always knew you wouldn’t get to choose a spouse. Instead, you grew up knowing exactly who you would one day marry.

Your parents, the king and queen of Azarenth, decided it was time to start looking for suitors shortly after you turned five. Their idea was for the two of you to meet frequently, essentially growing up together before tying the knot and officially uniting kingdoms. After some extensive research, your parents discovered a nearby kingdom with a prince around your age. So, they packed your belongings and loaded up the carriage for the journey to the kingdom of Tir Asleen.

Since you were so young, your parents didn’t tell you the exact reason you were visiting this new kingdom; all you knew was that you were going to play with a new friend and that your parents seemed very anxious upon arrival. They had dressed you in your best clothes: a puffy white dress with pink lace ribbons, and were constantly readjusting the bows or smoothing out the fabric. You scowled at all the fuss; you had been on plenty of playdates before and didn't understand why this one was such a big deal.

Stepping out of the carriage, a woman who appeared to be the queen of Tir Asleen greeted you and shook hands with your parents. She introduced herself as ‘Sorsha,’ and wore a wide smile as she spoke in a gentle tone.

“Hello little one,” she bent down to meet you at eye level. “The children are out back in the garden. Why don’t you go play?”

You agreed, happily leaving the adults to chat freely. As you made your way to the garden, you wondered what Sorsha had meant by ‘children.’ Your parents had said that you were here to make one friend, but the possibility of making multiple friends was even more exciting.

Upon reaching the palace garden, you opened the gate and walked in to see only one child, a boy who looked to be around your age. You felt a twinge of disappointment, but quickly hid it after he noticed your presence and flashed you a warm smile.

“Hi,” he greeted. “I’m Airk. Airk Tanthalos. What’s your name?”

You introduced yourself, prompting him to nod in response before speaking again.

“My mom says we’re gonna be friends now. I was just playing hide-n-seek with my sister.”

You perked up at this new information, excitedly anticipating the arrival of more friends.

Airk spun around, calling out to the entirety of the garden. “Kit! Our guest is here!”

No response. Airk sighed. “Kit! Olly olly oxen free!”

Suddenly, a little girl emerged from behind a tree, capturing your attention. She was unlike anything you’d ever seen before. You were taught that princesses should always be proper and ladylike, which Kit certainly was not. Instead, stray hairs clung to her flushed cheeks and hung just above her mouth, dyed purple from grape-juice. Grass and mud stained her tunic, and she wore breeches. You didn’t know girls were even allowed to wear breeches.

As she walked towards you and Airk, you quickly became infatuated with her. She was just so… cool.

Airk turned back towards you, rolling his eyes. “That’s Kit. Don’t mind her. She’s stubborn.”

“Gotta be stubborn when you’re the best hide-n-seeker in all of Tir Asleen.” Kit retorted, sticking out her tongue.

Airk stuck out his tongue back in response before gesturing towards you. “This is our guest. Mom says we’re going to be friends with her now.”

Kit turned towards you, face brightening as if this was the first time she noticed your presence. “Oh you’re the guest. How old are you?”

You shyly held up five fingers, causing Airk to erupt into mocking laughter. “You’re five? I hadn’t realized I was in the presence of a baby!”

Anger bubbled up inside you at his words. You had just met this boy, and he was already not very nice.

“Shut up, Airk!” Kit exclaimed, pushing her brother's head. “If anyone here is a baby it’s you!”

“Nuh-uh! You’re the baby! You’re only six!”

“So are you, idiot!”

“I’m still older!”

“By like, one minute!”

Airk huffed in response, crossing his arms and pouting. Kit flashed you a reassuring smile, and you felt warmth bubbling from inside you. This girl, this cool, older girl, had just stood up for you.

“Do you want to play tag?” Kit asked you. “Airk is awful at tag.”

“Nuh-uh! I’m super fast…”

“I can’t,” you cut Airk off and looked towards Kit regrettably. “I can’t run in this stupid dress.”

You pulled at your outfit, exaggerating your frustration. Kit scrunched up her face, seemingly deep in thought before she jumped up as if a lightbulb went off in her head.

“I’ll be right back,” she exclaimed, before running inside.

Now that you and Airk were alone together, it was almost awkward. You tugged at your dress, while he sat and pulled at the grass.

“I like your dress,” he muttered. “I think it makes you look pretty.”

A blush crept onto your cheeks at the compliment; maybe this boy wasn’t so bad after all. “Thanks.”

Seconds later, Kit came running back out of the castle carrying a garment of some sorts. She slowed to catch her breath as she approached you, proudly holding up the item.

“Breeches,” she explained breathlessly. “Put them on under your dress, then just tuck the skirt in.”

You stared at the garment, turning it over in wonder. “I’ve never had breeches before.”

“Keep them,” Kit replied. “Now you do.”

Your heart swelled at her kind gesture. First the cool girl had stood up for you, and now she was giving you a gift.

After thanking her, you slid the breeches on from underneath your dress, and tucked your skirt into the waistband. The thick fabric of your dress spilled out and bulged against the hem of the pants, sort of making you look like a spinning top, but you didn’t care. You were mobile now, and free to play whatever.

Feeling giddy, and slightly mischievous, you walked up to Kit, giggling behind your hand before slapping her on the shoulder.

“Tag! You’re it!”

You ran away, chuckling loudly as Kit gasped. She narrowed her eyes with an impish grin, feigning displeasure at being “it.”

“I’ll get you for that!”

The game continued with the three of you, but it was mostly you and Kit chasing each other around the garden, giggling until your ribs ached. At one point, you were running away from Kit, almost escaping before she took a shortcut through a flower bed and tackled you. You landed flat on your back, looking up at a giddy Kit in shock.

“Tag! You’re it! I win again!” She exclaimed, giggling as she reached up and pulled out a pink ribbon from your hair.

You groaned, grabbing for the ribbon as she dangled it over your head. “Kit! No fair, give it back!”

“I don’t think I will. I won, so I’ll take this as my trophy.” She twisted the ribbon in her fingers, examining the lace detail. “Besides, I gave you my breeches, it’s only fair you give me something of yours.”

She crawled off of you and lazily tied the ribbon in her tousled hair. The untidy knot hung loosely over her tangles and stood out like a sore thumb, but the sight of her in something you owned was so enthralling that you couldn’t care less.

Batting her eyelashes, she pouted her lips dramatically. “How do I look?”

You giggled. “Beautiful. Like a princess.”

The two of you tittered about while Airk groaned, feeling left out. “Can we play something else?”

Kit shrugged. “Fine. Let’s play house.”

Airk perked up, nodding in enthusiastic agreement before running over and grabbing your arm. “Great! We can play mommy and daddy, and you’re our child and you have to do whatever we say, Kit.”

“Nuh-uh!” Kit argued, grabbing onto your other arm. “How about I play the daddy, and you be our child and do whatever we say!”

“No fair!” Airk exclaimed. “It was my idea first!”

“It was my idea to play house!” Kit retorted smugly before slinging an arm around your shoulder. “How about we let our guest decide?”

“Fine!” Airk turned to you. “Who do you want to be married to? Me, or Kit?”

You looked between the siblings, weighing your options. Kit was so cool, but Airk was a boy, and you’d never heard of two girls getting married. But if it’s just pretend, and she’s playing the daddy anyway, then it should be alright… right?

Turning to Airk, you shot him a smug smirk. “Who’s the baby now?”

Kit erupted into mocking laughter while Airk grumbled, crossing his arms. “I’d rather be the horse.”

With that complaint, the game began, Airk finally giving in and agreeing to be yours and Kit’s son. You were pretending to prepare Airk as the next heir to the throne before Kit entered the scene, carrying a branch as a makeshift sword.

“Hello, wife,” Kit announced, lowering her voice to impersonate a man. “I’m back from the fight with General Kael.”

“Welcome home, dear,” you replied. “How was the fight?”

“Well I won, of course.” Kit boasted.

You clapped your hands in excitement. “That's wonderful, my love! Airk, did you hear your father?”

“Sure, sure.” Airk grumbled, completely disinterested.

Kit turned to her brother, waving her finger and pretending to be stern. “Listen to your mother, son. Someday it will be your responsibility to defeat leaders of evil armies.”

Airk rolled his eyes while you giggled, smiling at your pretend husband. “Darling, I’m so happy I married you. You’re such a great husband and father, and I’m so proud of you for defeating General Kael.”

“Bo-ring!” Airk complained, being completely ignored by you and Kit.

“Thank you sweetheart,” Kit replied in her mannish voice. “But the battle isn’t over yet. I must go back out and defeat Queen Bavmorda. Give me a kiss for good luck?”

“Kiss?” You asked, breaking character.

Kit dropped the act, returning to her normal voice. “Yeah. Mommies and daddies kiss, so we have to kiss.”

“You can’t kiss!” Airk shouted. “Kissing is for grown-ups!”

“We’re grown-ups in the game,” Kit argued.

“I’ve seen my mommy and daddy kiss, but I’ve never kissed,” you admitted, silently hoping that Kit wouldn’t think less of you.

“That’s alright,” Kit reassured with a gentle smile. “It’s easy. Just stand still, and close your eyes.”

You did as you were told, and suddenly, just for a brief second, you felt Kit’s lips on yours. It was only an innocent peck, but lingered with the taste of grape juice, and left an unfamiliar buzzing sound in your ears. Every inch of your small body tingled with warmth, and in that moment, you were convinced that Kit could do no wrong; everything about her was perfect.

“Gross!” Airk sneered, earning a sharp thwack from Kit using the tree branch she was holding.

And so the game continued, you pretending to tend to your ‘kingdom’ and prepare Airk as an heir, while Kit ran around the garden, using her trusty tree branch to reenact tales her father, Madmartigan, had told her. In between scenes, you would boss Airk around, sending him on side quests, or hide behind shrubs and share sweet grape-juice flavored kisses.

Eventually, the sun began to set, signaling the end of your play day. You and Kit had teamed up to wrestle Airk to the ground when Sorsha and your parents entered the garden gate, laughing like longtime friends. Upon seeing you, however, your parents froze at the shocking sight. Their beloved daughter, raised to be a prim and proper princess, was caked in mud, and wrestling a boy with her dress tucked into a pair of breeches that didn’t belong to her.

You heard your mother call your name, and immediately paused the roughhousing to shift your attention towards her. She forced a plastic smile, clearly displeased with your current appearance, but unwilling to make a scene in front of Sorsha.

“What are those?” She asked through gritted teeth, gesturing towards your lower half.

“Breeches!” You replied proudly. “Kit gave them to me.”

“Well wasn’t that nice of her,” she hummed, exchanging looks with your father.

Sorsha looked over to her own children and let out a sigh, noticing they hadn’t stopped wrestling. “Kit! Get off your brother!”

“Airk is in training, mom!” Kit whined, climbing off her brother. “He has to learn how to defeat Queen Bavmorda if he wants to be the next heir to the throne!”

“Her father…” Sorsha muttered an apologetic explanation to your parents before turning back to the twins. “Kit, why don’t you and Airk go inside and ask the cook to make our guests a snack?”

“Fine…” the twins murmured before trudging back into the castle.

Now that you were alone with the three adults, it seemed as if all their attention fixated on you. They crouched down to your level, peering at you with toothy grins plastered on their faces. A feeling of unease settled like a pit in your stomach, compelling you to take a small step back before they started speaking.

“Sweetheart,” your mother started, her voice dripping with sickening sweetness. “Did you have fun today?”

“I did,” you replied, letting your guard down slightly. “Kit is fantastic. She’s like a brave warrior princess!”

Your mother pursed her lips in disapproval, prompting Sorsha to quickly chime in. “What about Airk? Did you enjoy playing with Airk?”

Even though you had formed a stronger bond with Kit, you did still enjoy playing with Airk. “Yea, he was fun to play with too.”

All three adults beamed at you once again, teeth shining so bright you were almost sure you were going blind. That previous feeling of unease settled in your stomach again; you weren’t sure what your parents were planning, or why they kept interrogating you about your new friends.

It was your father, your gentle and typically soft-spoken father, who decided to ask the question they were all waiting for. “Princess, when you grow up, would you like to marry Airk?”

The adults looked at you expectantly, waiting with bated breath. To you, this was nothing more than an innocent question, a completely hypothetical situation. To them, however, your answer would determine the rest of your life.

You furrowed your brow, pondering their question. “If I marry Airk, does that mean I can play with Kit forever and ever?”

Your parents glanced at each other, and then at Sorsha. All three were slightly taken aback by your response, and none of them knew how to answer your question.

Finally, it was your mother who decided to speak up, nodding slowly as she did. “Well… if you were to marry Airk… technically you and Kit would be sisters. So… yes, I suppose you would get to spend a lot of time together.”

A warm feeling exploded in your chest. Sisters? You’d never even had a sibling before, let alone a sister, and the thought of having one as cool as Kit made you bounce with excitement.

“Then yes,” you exclaimed. “When I grow up, I want to marry Airk!”

The adults cheered in approval, your father hoisting you up onto his shoulders while the women chatted about plans for something you couldn’t make out. At this point, the twins came back out carrying snacks, and ended up joining the impromptu celebration. Not you, nor Kit, nor Airk knew what exactly was being celebrated, but everyone was happy, and that was all any of you cared about.

That night was spent in the Tir Asleen castle, you and your parents meant to be resting for the journey back to Azarenth the next morning. You were supposed to use one of the many guest rooms available, but you and Kit had begged your parents to let you share Kit’s room, and after promising to go to sleep at a reasonable hour, they finally agreed.

You and Kit spent the entire night hidden under her covers, telling stories and sharing sweet secrets. Once the night sky turned pitch black, you had to resort to soft whispers and stifled giggles, for fear of your parents hearing you awake so late and making you sleep separately. Eventually, just before daybreak, you two fell asleep, passed out only after neither of you could keep your eyes open any longer.

The next morning, Sorsha found you both collapsed, buried under Kit’s sheets, lying in a heap and practically tangled into each other. As she gently shook you awake and sent you to the room your parents were staying in, she couldn’t help but smile to herself; Kit didn’t have many girl friends, instead opting to spend most of her free time with her brother and other boys from the neighboring village. It was refreshing, watching her daughter form a close bond with a girl, especially one she was planning on having as a future daughter-in-law.

After getting dressed and sharing a quick breakfast, it was time for you and your parents to begin making your way back to Azarenth. You and Kit shared a tearful goodbye, promising to remain close companions as you embraced each other for the last time.

“Do you still have my breeches?” Kit whispered.

You nodded. “I’m wearing them under my skirt.”

As you let go of each other, you glanced down and noticed your pink ribbon from the previous day was now tied around Kit’s wrist, neatly held together with a bow. You smiled, gingerly picking up her hand and running your fingers over the lacy fabric.

“My ribbon…” you whispered.

“Mommy helped me put it on,” Kit grinned proudly, holding it up by her face in an exaggerated pose. “How do I look?”

You giggled. “Like a princess.”

After leaving Kit and bidding a quick farewell to Airk, you and your parents piled into the carriage for the journey back to your own kingdom. Soon, all you could hear was the dull clip-clop of the driving horse stepping along the cobblestone road.

“Hmm,” your mother pursed her lips as soon as Tir Asleen was out of sight. “I’m not sure how I feel about that Kit girl. She doesn’t seem like the most positive influence. I mean, breeches? On a princess? What was her mother thinking?”

You gulped, crossing your legs and pulling your skirt farther down, fearing that your mother could tell you were secretly wearing Kit’s breeches underneath.

“Something tells me Sorsha isn’t too happy about the breeches herself,” your father murmured, making your mother nod in agreement.

The tips of your ears burned with resentment. In that moment, you hated your parents for looking down on Kit, and didn’t understand how they couldn’t see her the same way you did: wonderful.

Despite your indignation, you chose to bite your tongue, deciding that arguing would prove fruitless. Instead, you threw yourself into your imagination, looking out the window of the carriage and daydreaming about you and Kit growing up and running away together, free from the confines of your parents.

Little did you know, it would be five years before you saw Kit again.

[emelinstriker]

{Eternal Servants AU} Wukong & Macaque ♡ Obedience

Art drawn by me + the OC is mine... Also the mentioned OCs and the AU itself.

My LMK AU's first ever fic, lezgooo- :D

This one's mainly just showing off the relationship between the monkeys as well as the Reader. The AU actually does feature some input from that one OC group of mine, even if they mostly operate in the background. Some of them do occasionally show up. It wouldn't be one of my universes if they had no input since they're all connected by this group of individuals... A good example would be CM from Castle's Pet, if any of my ancient old Quotev/Wattpad Undertale X Reader fans are reading this.

[TL;DR] Just your monkeys being wholesome while murdering another demon.

♡ ~ Fluff ~ ♡

Seated on your throne, you sighed as you waited for your purple champion's return. You sent out Macaque to retrieve an ancient artifact a demon stole from your palace's storage. Usually it wouldn't take him long to hunt someone down. After all, he was used to tracking down any that would oppose you and would bring them to justice. However, something must've happened since he obviously wasn't back yet. This was highly unusual for either one of your champions.

'Did he get into an accident?', you thought to yourself, now getting worried.

Your blue champion seemed to notice your sudden change in mood. He didn't even need to feel it through your eternal bond, he could just tell by looking at your concerned expression. He leaned down a bit as he obediently stood next to your throne, looking at you with his void black eyes. "Master, is something bothering you?"

You turned your head a bit to look at him. "It's just... Where's Macaque?"

"Unfortunately, I'm not sure whether or not he's still occupied with the thief." He responded flatly with little to no emotion. You hummed in thought for a moment before you turned to face him again.

"Wukong, I want you to check up on your brother... Help him if he needs help, but at least just make sure he's not hurt or anything." You said firmly. The monkey in blue moved in front of you and bowed.

"As you wish, Master."

And with that, he summoned his somersault cloud and hopped onto it before swiftly flying off into the direction of where his sworn brother left to hunt down the thief.

Across the land, a giant smoke monster could be seen fighting a giant demon in green and black. It seemed like a tough battle as the demon the monster was fighting was very aggressive and wild in its attacks. When suddenly, a blunt hit to the back of the green and black demon slammed the demon in green and black face-first into the ground of the clearing they were fighting in. Its body created a giant crater. It was still alive, but just barely as it laid there motionless. It seemed like the battle already weakened it and the blow to the back was too much for it to handle.

The simian piloting the giant smoke monster panted a bit from exhaustion as he smiled darkly at the fallen demon. But then he turned towards the direction of his ginger-furred brother, who was standing on his cloud with crossed arms, and huffed. "Thanks, but I could've taken him down on my own. It just would've taken a bit."

"Master told me to make sure you weren't hurt." Wukong stated as-a-matter-of-factly.

Macaque's smile turned from maniac to apologetic as he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, with his giant smoke avatar mirroring his motion. "Oh man, did I take too long again? I didn't mean to make them worry... I just kinda got caught up with stopping the thief. He used the artifact he stole and it turned him into a feral titan." He added as the giant smoke monster gestured towards the other demon on the ground. That's when the monkey on the cloud quickly zoomed down towards the unconscious demon's body. It took him a few seconds, but he quickly spotted the artifact hanging from the titan's satchel. After he took it away from the giant demon, the demon's body seemingly shrunk back to its original size, still unconscious in the ginormous crater. The simian carefully held onto the artifact, as to not accidentally trigger its power, before his cloud flew back to his sworn brother. After Macaque saw the other demon's now normal-sized body, his smoke monster avatar disappeared around him as he stretched with his feet now touching the ground again.

He grinned at the ginger-furred monkey, seeing him hold the artifact the thief stole. "Guess now we also know what thing does... Did Master say anything about wanting us to kill the guy, or to place him in the punishment wing?"

Wukong shook his head in response, his face still not holding any emotion. Macaque sighed. "Well, damn... But I guess we might as well end him now than risk having him try to steal again, right?" He chuckled as he slowly walked towards the unconscious demon's body. The dark-furred monkey gave the demon a wicked grin, not expecting a response as he summoned his shadow staff. "Nothing personal, dude. Just making sure our beloved Master is forever safe and comfortable! Any who are at risk of opposing them in any way must be eliminated..."

And with that, he smashed his staff's thorny end down onto the demon's head, ending his life with one last strike. Wukong just gave the corpse a bored look before he uncrossed his arms. "Do you need a ride back?" The Monkey King asked, referring to Macaque's exhaustion after battle. He could just help the other monkey relax and calm down with his somersault cloud, after all.

However, Macaque just waved his hand dismissively as he took a deep breath. "Nah, but thanks. I'm a bit tired, but not enough to stop me from using my powers. Do you want a ride back though?" He grinned before he summoned a shadow portal on the ground next to himself. Wukong's mouth just faintly twitches upwards for a split second, but it was enough to make his the dark-furred simian chuckle in repsonse. "C'mooon, bud~ We both know my method's faster! Just hop in already!" If Wukong's eyes weren't like a fully black void, his playful eyeroll would've been very much noticeable. He hopped off his cloud, letting it disappear as he approached the portal, straight up jumping into it. Macaque soon followed after, closing the portal once he went through.

On the other side, you anxiously waited on your throne. While you didn't think any of your regular servants would harm you, you still felt a bit uncomfortable without at least one of your champions around. After all, a human ruling over an army of demons wasn't exactly a common thing demons respected. Only those who were already your servants in other lives would respect you fully... probably. And you had no recollection of any of your previous lives.

Your anxiety faded however once your two blue and purple champions emerged from a shadow portal in front of your throne. The sworn brothers didn't hesitate and kneeled upon seeing you.

"Apologies for the wait and for worrying you, Master. The thief ended up using the artifact and I ended up having to fight him to stop him." Macaque says, somewhat sounding ashamed of himself. He didn't like it whenever he didn't meet his Master's expectations. Even if something was out of his control.

You smiled softly as you leaned back. "It's fine, Mac-Mac. It was inevitable if that guy refused to face justice... I'm just glad you're alright and came back to me alive and well." The simian's frown turned into a bright smile as his tail swayed happily behind him. If you used that nickname for him, then he must've done everything right!

Afterwards, you smiled at your blue champion. "Thanks for finding him and taking him home again, Wu-Wu. Great job." You praised him. Now his tail was also swaying more happily. He nodded his head and grunted quietly in acknowledgement. Despite him not talking quite as much as his brother, and usually not showing emotions, you knew he was just as happy and content as your purple champion. His gentle tail sways were enough to understand.

The ginger-furred monkey then pulled out the artifact from underneath his cloaked side, still kneeling as he stared at you expectantly. "Shall I return this to the storage? The Archivist wanted to check on the items later today."

You scratched your head in thought for a moment as you hummed. "Guess that would be the best idea... If the Archivist shows up, then it's best if we have all the items that we borrowed... I don't wanna deal with his colleagues again, to be honest." You admitted, physically cringing a bit at the memory of your last encounter with the group the Archivist was involved in. They weren't happy when an eternal branding iron you used on your servants was stolen. Especially the Judge...

Wukong, knowing what you meant, nodded again as he stood up and bowed his head. "Of course, Master." Then he turned and walked away towards the palace's storage. Meanwhile, Macaque continued to smile brightly at you.

"Do you have another task for me to complete as well, Master?" He asked, eager to follow your every command like an obedient puppy. You hummed in thought again, but before you could respond, you heard the familiar voice of a certain mysterious figure in a black cloak and a fox-like mask...

"They do not. I have a task for you instead, Six-Eared Macaque."

The cloaked entity with the fox mask revealed himself as he walked out from behind your throne... When did he get here? Then again, he was one of the Archivist's colleagues, so you didn't question much anymore due to all they were able to do... You raised a suspicious eyebrow at the masked entity as you spoke. "...What task?" Those cloaked beings weren't to be trusted with how they operated. And while the Oracle usually spoke of the truth and was one of the more gentle-sounding members, you could never be sure whether or not there was malice behind anything their group did.

He responded in a blank tone, as if it were obvious. "The task involves going to the Underworld and retrieving the Scroll of Memory." Macaque visibly flinched slightly as one of his ears twitched at the mention of the Underworld, yet he avoided eye contact and remained quiet. The masked entity continued. "It's not the scroll itself that you might be interested in, but rather the curse that is bound to the scroll. That curse would be an extremely great addition to your palace's security." The entity added.

You grimaced a bit in thought, looking at him with uncertainty as you propped up your head on your hand. "Mhm... Are you sure this is worth it? Macaque isn't exactly fond of the Underworld, and I don't wanna make any of my servants, especially my champions, uncomfortable... Maybe Wukong could-" "NO!" Your purple champion suddenly cut you off as he looked at you, his void black eyes were wide open in panic, practically begging you to hear him out. He coughed awkwardly before bowing his head in a bit of shame and embarrassment for cutting you off.

"M-My apologies for interrupting you, Master... But I'd like to take on this mission myself, if I may." He said firmly, determination clear on his face as he tried to avoid this uncomfortable feeling of having to return to the Underworld. But he really wanted to prove himself worthy as one of your champions. He outwardly expressed his love and devotion towards you so much more than his sworn brother, and yet Wukong usually ended up getting more missions than him despite that.

You gave him a concerned look. "Are you sure? I know you don't like the Underworld after... Well, you know..."

He nodded his head without hesitation. "Yes, Master. Please let me retrieve that scroll for you."

After another short moment of uncertainty, you sighed in defeat. You stood up and moved towards your purple champion, petting his fluffy head. "Alright, fine... But if anything makes you feel unsafe or uncomfortable, I want you to just come back... Okay? I don't want you to get hurt, Mac-Mac. I'd rather have you here with me without that scroll than have the scroll without you." You said softly as you kissed his forehead. The dark-furred monkey blushed as his breath hitched at your touch and words.

That was all the motivation he needed.

His bright smile returned as he joyfully saluted. "Yes, Master! I'll make you proud!" You chuckled at his sudden eagerness. Almost immediately, a shadow portal opened up beneath the simian as he dropped into it, vanishing. Upon the closing of the portal, you raised an eyebrow at the Oracle.

"...Is this scroll really necessary?" You asked quietly, to which the entity silently nodded. You sighed as you pinched the bridge of your nose.

"It's not just for your safety, Your Majesty. It's also required to garner enough attention for the future paths to be connected to the present path." He responded flatly, which confused you. But again, you didn't question his words due to his occupation. And soon enough, Wukong returned from the storage. The monkey in blue walked up to you and bowed, as if to say he had finished his task.

You petted him as well, also kissing his forehead with a little smile. "Good job, Wu-Wu." And just like his sworn brother, his tail started to sway in a happy daze as he blushed despite his still expressionless face. He clearly also loved it when you called him by that nickname. The Oracle, upon seeing the Monkey King return and being showered in affection, quickly bid you farewell for now as he still seemed to be busy with other matters. Meanwhile, you continued to pet the ginger-furred monkey, waiting for his brother again. You even decided to continue petting him while your were seated on your throne.

However, at some point while petting your blue champion, a thought crossed your mind...

"Wu-Wu... If your brother isn't back within the next three hours, I want you to go look for him in the Underworld... And help him out if need be." Wukong's eyes were closed as he leaned into your gentle, addictive touch, while his tail swayed slowly behind him. He simply nodded without opening his eyes.

"Understood, Master."

[ Masterlist ]

[trensu]

Some more of stasis in darkness. you have no idea how many times i've written this scene. i discarded three or four different versions of it before i came up with this one. i feel like this version worked best for the characters. or at least i hope they feel in character.

It was the ninth night.

Steve took his usual spot before the shrine. He greeted his god as he had before but decided tonight was going to be a quiet night. He didn’t have much to say so he’d simply let his faith burn bright in his silent vigil.

Hours passed, and again the strange man didn’t show up as he had been the nights prior. This time, Steve didn’t bother putting it off. He decided to do a perimeter check. As he stood, however, a cacophony of squeaks and beating wings filled the air.

A massive colony of bats burst into the clearing. They moved shockingly fast as they neared Steve and the shrine. Steve ducked his head under his arms but let the bats come. He ignored the little Robin in his head yelling about rabies. He couldn’t risk hurting one of his god’s favored creatures. 

There were so many of them, more than Steve had ever seen in his life. They flew round and round dropping altitude until they coalesced at the foot of the shrine. The din stopped as abruptly as it had started. When Steve could no longer hear a single squeak or feel wings zipping overhead, he lowered his arms. Cautiously, he lifted his head, eyes drawn immediately to the shrine to check for any damage. 

Not a single bat remained. Instead, the strange man sat, cross legged, at the statue’s feet. He wore a dark cloak comprised of deep navies, bruising purples, and an inky black. Each color slowly, gracefully shifted and melted one into another, again and again before Steve’s eyes. Flecks of light littered it in familiar formations. The clasp that secured it around the man was a bright silvery white. It was shaped exactly the same as the waning moon above. 

“Ta-da!” the man said, fluttering his hands in a showman’s gesture.

Steve took in the man's appearance. The ratty travel clothes, the cloak of constellations and its clasp…Steve leapt back in shock. Everything suddenly clicked into place very quickly to paint a very unflattering picture of himself. He whirled around. He couldn't face the shrine. 

"Shit," Steve's voice was loud with a stunned sort of panic as he remembered the events of the past week. He paced anxiously. "Shit, shit. It was y–the whole time, you were–FUCK. How did I miss–and even if you weren't you, you were still a traveler in the night and I treated you like–I'm a fucking idiot. I'm the stupidest man alive, how–"

"Probably from getting dropped on the head so much, huh?" the man asked with that same annoyingly self-satisfied voice he'd been using every night. The annoying stranger with his annoying questions and his stupid smug tone.

Mindlessly, Steve turned on his heel to glare at the man. He jabbed an accusatory finger in his direction, frustration flaring.

"Oh, you can fuck right off, man," Steve replied reflexively. "I am having a crisis!"

A split second later, he felt his stomach drop to his feet. This wasn't just a stranger talking. He backpedaled hard.

"Oh, ohhhh no, I didn't mean that, Lord, I-I wasn't thinking."

The man exploded into raucous laughter. It shook his whole body until he doubled over from the strength of it. He continued to laugh when he toppled off the side of his perch and landed with a thunk on the ground. The man sat up, wheezing and wiping at his face, mirth clearly keeping him in a choke-hold. 

"Oh, far be it for me to interrupt your crisis," the Lord of Night forced out amidst the laughter. He flapped a hand at him. "Please, continue."

The god attempted to regain composure but all that did was turn his full bellied guffaws into snorting giggles. Steve waited, his anxiety fading in the face of the god’s genuine good humor. It took another couple of minutes before the god calmed enough to pop back to his feet and climb back onto the plinth. The man made himself comfortable at the foot of his own statue as he had before.

"So how goes the crisis?" he asked mischievously.

"On hold," Steve said evenly, fighting back the start of a smile. The man said nothing but still radiated amusement. Steve crossed his arms over his chest. "Are you really the Lord of Night?"

"The one and only!"

“And you’ve been here the whole time?”

“Yep!”

“So why didn’t you say anything? I mean, I talked to you every night! I don’t get it.” Steve paused as a thought occurred to him. “Was this a test?”

“Uh…yes? Yes.”

Steve narrowed his eyes. The god shifted in his seated position. It reminded Steve of the time Dustin shattered a jar of his most expensive hair product and tried to hide it. Dustin had squirmed guiltily under Steve’s expectant gaze until he confessed to his dastardly crime. Apparently, the method worked on gods as well.

“Okay, it started more as an attempt to get you to leave me alone,” the Lord of Night admitted. 

“Oh.” It came out blankly, which Steve was grateful for, because he felt like he’d been kicked in the chest by a mule. “You don’t want me.”

Steve wasn't sure why he was surprised. This was a classic Steve problem. He tamped down the old familiar sting of rejection. Steve knew going in that this had been a possibility. It was a god’s right to reject an offering.

“I never wanted any holy warriors,” the Lord of Night corrected. “Hence the attempt to make you leave.” 

Steve supposed that lessened the blow a little. It was an impersonal rejection. That was better, right? 

"If you didn't want me as your holy warrior you could've just said," Steve said ruefully.

“You seemed pretty determined to come back, though.”

“Only because I thought you’d want to, like, use me for something. If you’d asked me to, I would’ve stopped bothering you. I could’ve gotten someone else who could worship you better,” Steve said, trying to keep his voice light and unaffected.

"Yeah, I really don’t think you could have,” the Lord of Night said in a strained tone. 

“No, I mean it,” Steve insisted. “I told you, Robin and Dustin wanted to come along. They would make sure you’re not alone again. You would like them. They pick up on stuff faster than me. They’d be good worshipers.”

“That’s not what I meant. Your worship was, uh, it was…no, nevermind, forget that. The thing is, the more you came back the more I…” 

The Lord of Night trailed off. He tugged his dark starry cloak around him tighter. When he spoke again, he seemed to have switched tracks entirely. 

"Look, I don't know exactly how the holy warrior thing works, but you guys do quests for your gods, right?"

"Well, yeah, that's the whole point. We're your boots on the ground. We do acts in your service to spread your faith. Like priests but less boring." 

The god snorted which made Steve grin.

"Priests are so boring," the Lord of Night agreed. 

Things went quiet again. The cloak of constellations made it hard to see his god, but Steve got the impression that the Lord of Night was fidgeting. Steve remembered the conversation from a few nights before, about nervousness and not knowing what to do. Steve fell back on his social graces, his good old Harrington charm, and carefully picked something that would encourage the god to speak.

"I can't believe I didn’t see it,” Steve said, with a self-deprecating shake of his head. “Like, I know I'm not the smartest guy around but I didn't think I was that slow."

"Don't worry about it,” the god replied instantly, breaking out of his internal reverie. “That's not on you. I didn't want you to notice, so you didn't."

"Oh."

"Yep. And, it's not like I have a face to remember, so, y'know. You're good."

"I guess that does make me feel bet–wait. What do you mean you don’t have a face?” Steve squinted at the Lord of Night.

“Well, I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I lost my name,” the Lord of Night said with a hint of irony. “No name, no face.”

“But I saw it,” Steve insisted.

“Did you?” the Lord of Night asked, amused. He slid off the plinth and walked up to Steve until he was only three feet away. The god lowered his hood without any flourish. “What do I look like?”

Steve squinted at him studiously. The god was pale as moonlight and had hair as dark as the night itself; as for the rest of him…it was the strangest thing. Steve knew there was a pair of eyes under a brow. There was a nose above a mouth. He knew the right features were in the right places. However, he couldn’t tell if the eyes were dark or pale. He couldn’t say whether the nose was large or small. The mouth could be thin or it could be full. 

“I don’t know,” Steve relented. The Lord of Night nodded.

“Yeah, me neither.”

“Is…is that the quest? To find your name?” Steve asked, dread pooling in his belly. That quest would involve a lot of reading and…he didn’t even know. Language things? General research, for sure. None of which Steve was particularly good at.

“That’s a bit presumptuous of you,” the Lord of Night smirked. He didn't give Steve a chance to apologize. “But yeah, there’s something important that needs to be done. I’m not strong enough to do it myself and I’m running out of time to do it.”

“I can do it,” Steve responded. “I’ll do it for you, my Lord.”

“You don’t even know what the quest is,” the god said wistfully.

“But I know you wouldn’t ask me to do anything cruel or unfair.”

“You’re unbelievable,” the Lord of Night muttered under his breath. Steve didn’t think he was supposed to hear that so he kept quiet. In a louder voice, the god resumed. “Okay, are you sure you wanna do this? Be a holy warrior? Because you could be literally anything else. You told me you liked cooking during one of your prayer sessions. You could open up a restaurant! Restaurant owners don’t usually die in the line of duty or whatever.”

Steve resisted the urge to roll his eyes. This is what Steve trained for, what he was good at, and he wanted to put those skills to use.

“You said you needed help to do something important. I want to be the one that helps you. I want to be your warrior. I can do it, I know I can. I won’t let you down.” Steve bit his lip uncertainly as a thought struck him. "If you don't think I'm worthy–"

“It’s not about worthiness!" The god cut in. "Do you know what it would mean to be my holy warrior? The weight of the night sky, with all the stars and the moon, will be on your shoulders for as long as you walk the land. I don’t know much about holy warriors but I remember this: there’s no take-backs. You can’t just quit and go off to become something else later.”

“Yes, I know. We covered this in lectures at school. It wasn’t all swordplay," Steve said impatiently. "I did think about it once I finished training and I decided if I could find a god to pledge myself to, I didn't want to be anything else. Then I found you."

“...Okay. If you're sure, then okay,” the Lord of Night said decisively. “So what do I have to do? How do I make you mine?”

“Um, I think it’s different from god to god?” Steve stuttered, heart thumping at the god’s words. “But I guess we can do our own thing? I’m pretty sure it’s the intent that matters most.”

"I can work with that." The Lord of Night gestured downward. "Kneel, kneel. I have an idea of what to say.

"Should I close my eyes or something?" Steve asked once he’d gotten to his knees.

"Nah, this is good," Lord Night said. 

The god squared his shoulders and straightened his spine. Then, something miraculous happened. The Lord of Night spoke his name aloud.

“Steve Harrington.”

It was the first time his god ever said his name; it was stunning in a way Steve couldn’t begin to comprehend. A bolt of lightning down his spine. A roaring forge in his chest. A whirlwind in his lungs. It felt like all of that simultaneously, yet nothing like that at all. How could pitiful human speech hope to encompass the intensity of a god’s undivided attention; his god’s specific acknowledgement of a primitive life such as his? 

Tears sprang unbidden in Steve’s eyes. He became aware how lowly and frail his own body was, and how utterly insignificant his existence was in the vastness of the stars in the sky. He curled forward, hiding his face and making himself as small as he could. He could not bear his god seeing his mortal failings and imperfections. It would invite an exquisite, holy agony Steve surely wouldn’t survive. 

“Oh,” the Lord of Night breathed. “I forgot how that could feel to a human. I’ll try not to do it again.”

“No,” the word tore out of Steve’s throat without any conscious thought. “No, please. Please, my Lord.”

Steve didn’t even know what he was begging for because the singular attention of a god was agony but the thought of his god leaving him filled him with terror. He shattered, left with no purchase save his god’s words. Then there were arms around him, pulling him close, and enveloping him in constellations. Steve’s vision blurred. Great, heaving sobs overcame him as though ripped from his very soul. The Lord of Night murmured comfortingly.

“Alright, there we go,” he said softly. “I’m here, Steve. I see you in the night, every night. The stars shine for you, Steve. The moon turns its face for you. I’m with you, Steve.”

The words crashed into him with the unrelenting force of ocean waves. They swept his footing from underneath him and sent him spinning endlessly, endlessly. They lifted him upwards and sent him plummeting down until he was deep below the surface where the currents finally slowed. Surrounded by eternally burning stars, he was left weightless and suspended in an unearthly calm. The words rang in his skull with the surety and strength only a celestial being could claim.

Somewhere between an eternity and no time at all, Steve came back to himself feeling overexerted, though he hadn’t moved from where he knelt. Steve’s heart and soul had been scraped out of his chest, put between a pestle and mortar before getting unceremoniously dumped back in his weak flesh, but in a weirdly good way. His sobs subsided. His breathing came in and out slowly.

Eventually the cloak of constellations released him as well. He blinked his eyes open gradually to see his god kneeling before him at arm's length, palms resting on Steve's shoulders. Steve felt a stab of shame at having brought his god down low to a mortal's level. 

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” Steve croaked. “Do you still–? Can I still be–?”

“No, yeah,” the Lord of Night said straight away. “That was on me. Not your fault at all. I’m out of practice interacting with mortals."

The god’s words lost the gravitas from before in a way that would've been jarring if it weren't such a relief. He finally broke his hold on Steve. He got to his feet, somewhat gracelessly. 

"Let’s try that again?” the Lord of Night asked.

Steve cleared his throat. He straightened up where he knelt and kept himself still. He nodded to show he was ready.

“Steve Harrington,” the god said. This time hearing his name on his god’s lips was exhilarating but at a level a human could bear. “Do you swear to spread my values in the minds and hearts of mortals, through action and word?”

“I swear.”

“Then will you, Steve Harrington, do me the honor of being my sword and shield? Will you carry my crest through all your agonies and all your joys?”

“Yes.”

For a breathless moment, their words hung in the air, resonating through the night with finality. The Lord of Night reached out and gently traced something on Steve's forehead. Steve assumed it was his god's sigil, though neither Robin or Dustin could find any images of it so he couldn't be sure. It felt like an incomplete circle with a squiggle running through it. The god stepped back to observe him when he was done.

The stillness that followed, ironically, rattled Steve’s bones with relief and joy that it was done. His god had accepted him. Then the Lord of Night shuffled his feet in an awkward, shy manner.

“Cool,” said the Lord of Night.

The heaviness and tension brought down by the gravity of their oath ruptured with that single world, and Steve could do nothing but dissolve in helpless, giddy giggles.

[anyathesnaketamer]

~the shadow jester's play~

I saw the trailer and had this cool idea, an entire puppet show of the lore told from his perspective.

I wrote the script at like 7 am and made the video at 10pm so. It may not be the best in both regards. But ykk

Music: shadow bonnie's lullaby

All sprites were drawn by me ultimately, either from scratch or using the trailer versions as reference.

Ill provide the script below :)

(Dark blue curtains open to an empty stage. Only puppets of gingerbrave, strawberry and wizard are visble.)

"Our story begins with a small little INSAGNIFICANT child~! Oh! There he is now! Say hello, gingerbrave~!"

"Insignificant??"

"Poor old gingerbrave! He was baked by the witches just to be EATEN! good thing he and his stupid little friends weren't there!"

"Stupid?!"

"Nonono! They were seeking down the ancients~!"

(Curtains close. They open to show a pink, hollyberrian themed stage. A puppet of hollyberry, princess, and the redish green dragon are present.)

"There was hollyberry! The 'brave dragon warrior'! Can't be too brave to abandon her kingdom.. oh, but she came back to defeat the dragon! Doesn't that justify EVERYTHING in the end?"

(Pink curtains close. They open again to a purple, caconian themed stage. Puppets of dark cacao, caramel arrow, affogato and dark choco are present.)

"Then there came dark cacao, the undefeatable king! He's bested dragons, he's defeated armies! Just to be betrayed by his own son..~"

(Purple curtains close. They open to a yellow, golden cheese themed stage. Puppets of golden cheese, burnt cheese and mozzarella are present.)

"Then there was golden cheese! The golden sovereign as her people cry! But she couldn't even save those very people from death~!"

(Yellow curtains close. They open to a green, flower decorated stage. Puppets of white lily and dark enchantress are present.)

"Then there was white lily.. precious white lily.."

"Precious..?"

"She did her verryyy best to keep us sealed away.. oh but then came dark enchantress~! Pasts do come to haunt us, hm?~"

(Green curtains close. A stage opens to a soft yellow, vanillian themed stage, also decorated with flowers. Only a puppet of pure vanilla is present.)

"And there was pure vanilla. The great king, pure vanilla! But what king was he? His kingdom was dead! And worse, so much of this could be blamed on him~!"

"..."

(Soft blue and yellow curtains close. They open to a stage themed like a eye infested faerie tree, with Puppets of the ancients, gingerbrave, strawberry, wizard, elder faerie and some faerie kingdom cookies present.)

"Gingerbrave and his friends collected these five 'ancient heros' to defeat the (mock voice) 'BiG BaD AnCiEnT BeAsTs'! When the beasts came free, however, these silly silly cookies quickly realized they were outmatched! They quickly lost, and the beasts roamed free once again~! Hahahahaha~!!"

"!!"

(The curtains close, and open one last time, to a bowing shadow milk surrounded by discarded- showing to be "dead", puppets)

"The end."

Edit: I POSTED THE VIDEO WITHOUT SOUND FUCK

[dewdrops-whammy-bar]

random request/idea… what if water ghouls have hyper sensitive skin. Hickeys are extra good, biting hurts more, etc etc. And Rain in particular really likes collars and chains… so when they get tugged, or pulled, and the metal scratches him he loves it.

You’re right, Rain SHOULD be collared. I’m a huge fan of masochist Rainy so ofc I had to make it fun and nasty like that. Also sorry for the cliffhanger at the end there, HOWEVER I may write a continuation at some point.

Both Rain and Swiss are trans in this (Swiss is implied but it’s there), Rain’s downstairs is referred to as a cunt, his tits are mentioned, and he has a tentacle in place of a clit. I love freaky water ghoul anatomy.

-Slip chain-

Rating: M

Pairing: Swiss/Rain (t4t)

Words: ~900

Includes: Gill play, pain play, masochist Rain, transmasc Rain, transmasc Swiss, collar/chain play, mention of bruising/marking, tentacle clit, Rain’s tentacle is referred to with she/her cause why not

“When did you get this?” Swiss asks, running the silver chain through his fingers. The jewelry in question is a slip chain, a length of chain with a ring on each end. The chain would be looped through one of the rings like a slipknot, creating a necklace that could be tightened by pulling the loose end. Rain had ordered it online on a whim, having been drawn to the triangular rings that echoed the symbol of his element.

“A few days ago.” Rain shrugs. “You like it?” A smirk plays at the corner of his mouth as Swiss examines the metal. He tips his head back against Swiss’s shoulder and snuggles closer where they’re cuddling on the den couch.

“I do. It suits you.” Swiss gently tugs on the loose end of the chain. The necklace tightens slightly, cool metal sliding over Rain’s skin. The water ghoul’s breath hitches, his gills flexing just slightly. From the way Swiss’s mouth splits into a grin, he’d definitely noticed.

“Oh?” The multighoul asks teasingly. He pulls the chain a little harder and Rain can’t help but whimper as it drags over his sensitive gills. He feels heat pooling in his belly and presses his thighs together. “I think you’re liking this a little too much.”

“Maybe,” Rain replies shakily. It’s almost embarrassing how worked up he is already just from having his necklace played with. “Feels nice.”

“Just nice?” Swiss asks. He uses the arm trapped under Rain to pull him onto his lap. Rain shivers as he feels the casual strength in the multi’s grip. His mind helpfully provides a memory of Swiss’s forearms flexing as he manhandled Rain into a mating press and if Rain wasn’t wet before, he is now. He shifts so he’s straddling one of Swiss’s thighs.

“Mmmm, maybe a little more than nice.” Rain leans in and scrapes his teeth over the sensitive pseudo-gills on Swiss’s neck. The multi gasps and grabs at Rain’s thighs. “It’s almost like that, but smoother.”

“Should I keep doing it?” Swiss asks. His smirk says he already knows the answer, but Rain gives him his best sweet, doe-eyed pout anyway.

“Please?” He asks, dropping his voice to a slightly raspy coo. Swiss’s pupils blow wide and he pulls the chain with a growl. The necklace tightens all the way, now pressing deliciously against Rain’s gills. The delicate slits flutter and flex, displaying flashes of pretty purple frills inside. Rain can feel his tentacle starting to peek out of her sheath and rocks his hips against Swiss’s thigh.

“So easy.” Swiss chuckles, his free hand popping open the button of Rain’s jeans. “Didn’t know all I needed to do to turn you into a needy mess was to play with your jewelry a little bit.”

“Please,” Rain begs again. “Tighter.”

Swiss loops the chain around his hand and yanks, jolting Rain forward and knocking their horns together. Rain doesn’t even realize what’s happened until his gills flare open in response to the rough motion.

The cool metal of the chain slides against the inside of his gills and Rain keens. It’s intense, a little painful on the tender skin, but Rain’s cunt drools in his pants. His tentacle, fully extended now, squirms upwards and peeks out of the waistband of his boxers.

“Well, hello.” Swiss coos at the tentacle, ignoring Rain’s whines for attention. “Come out to play?” He lets her wrap around his fingers and pets along her sensitive underside with his thumb. Rain shudders and whimpers, each minute movement of his neck pressing the chain deeper into his gills.

“Swiss- please-“ Rain pants. His head is swimming. He rocks against the multi’s thigh.

“Please what?” Swiss replies and Rain makes a choked little moan as the chain shifts again.

“Please- fuck me and- and pull on the chain too. Use my biggest toy, force it in- please, I can take it, want it to hurt.” Rain babbles. The words just spill out of his mouth and if he weren’t so wrecked already he might’ve been a bit embarrassed by them. Fortunately, Swiss growls and grins with his inhumanly sharp teeth and suddenly Rain is being scooped up effortlessly. The chain falls slack but his gills still flutter and squeeze around it.

“You want to play rough, huh?” Swiss growls as he strides toward Rain’s bedroom. “Want me to bruise you up, too? Mark up those pretty tits?”

“Mmm-mhm, please.” Rain pants, wrapping his legs around Swiss’s hips and pressing his face into his neck. He yelps as Swiss drops him onto his bed and slams the bedroom door shut with his tail.

Swiss joins him on the bed after shedding his shirt and kisses him surprisingly softly. He pulls back and presses his forehead to Rain’s.

“Stoplight system?” He asks, gold eyes glowing slightly in the shadow between their faces.

“Yeah.” Rain nods and goes in for another kiss. Swiss gives the chain a little tug again and he whines.

“Perfect.” Swiss purrs, swiping his rough tongue over one of Rain’s gill slits. “Gonna make you scream, baby.”

Rain shudders and mewls, fingers burying themselves in Swiss’s locs. Teeth scrape his neck again and he prepares himself for a looooong night.

[itsphoenix0724]

A Shadowed Throne (Azriel x Reader)

Summary: The warmer seasons have been particularly hard this year as Azriel awaits his Queen's return. When winter finally dawns he finds Death will only kneel to life in one circumstance.

Warnings: SMUT, throne-sex, unprotected sex

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: Hello everyone! This was heavily inspired by the myth of Hades and Persephone if that wasn't obvious. Also incredibly inspired by @azsazz's beautiful work called "Between the Shadow and the Soul" so please give that a read. I asked on anon if I could write something similar and I am thrilled they agreed. I hope everyone enjoys it, and as always constructive criticism is welcome!

The halls in the Obsidian Castle are always eerily quiet. You can only hear the whispers of the souls that bustle around the castle. The God of Death finds that he enjoys quiet peace. The cold marble of his throne presses against his back and calms his racing pulse. He feels your presence enter his realm. Shadows bring him a rush of warmth and the smell of sweet spring flowers. 

The feeling awakens something in his blood he thought was long dead. This spring's goodbye was awful, the summer bittersweet, and the fall melancholy.

Winter was always his favorite season.

Selfishly he loved the quiet bliss of snowfall and the influx of souls that enter his realm. Most of your smaller creations don’t survive the harshness the winter brings, but he wipes your tears and consoles you that all of your creations will be safe with him. He cherishes each one, kindly guiding them back when they’re ready to move on. 

Two souls open the large doors to the throne room. When he sees you the cold heart in his chest starts to beat again. He surveys you from where you stand at the door. 

You had chosen a dress in a deep purple for your return home. Two thigh-high slits let him see the vines that wrap all the way down to your bare feet. Your usual flowers had been swapped out for an homage to the underworld. A crown of lilies, nightshade, and oleander were woven through your hair. Two sets of foxglove dangled from your ears and purple emperor butterflies fluttered around your neckline. 

You were a vision, a true queen of his realm. 

Your eyes locked for one tortuous moment. Neither of you moved, exhaling a small breath before you take off to him in a run. With a wave of his hand, the souls cleared out of the throne room. They would celebrate the return of their queen later with a week-long festival in your honor. 

He fully intended to celebrate the return of his queen right fucking now. 

He pulled you onto his lap as soon as you reached the throne, the butterflies scattering into the air and landing around the both of you. One brave butterfly rests on his hair before your fingers chase it away.

He wraps one strong hand through your hair before finally drawing his mouth to yours. After months and months of cold, he finally feels warm again. He draws his tongue along the seam of your lips, and they open for him as he greedily slides his tongue into your mouth.  He moans as the taste of honey and pomegranates flood his senses and you dig your hands into his hair and pull so harshly he fears you may have drawn blood. 

“Azriel,” you whine his name into his mouth and he wants to inject the sound into his veins. Mortals fear his name, only referring to him as Death or King, and he finds he doesn’t mind their fear. 

He only wants his name to fall out of your lips anyway. 

He moves his lips to mark the soft skin of your neck. He wants to leave his mark everywhere on your body. He wants to remind you of why he deserves your return to him every winter. Azriel’s instincts are kicking into high gear. He wants to claim you and make you beg and cry underneath him and never let you go again. However, he puts that on pause. 

For now. 

He stands up, hauling your whole body against him before pinning you to the back of the throne and falling to his knees. 

All life has to yield to Death eventually, it’s the way of the world, but Death kneels for Life in some instances. He parts your dress, fingers toying with the vines that wrap up and down your legs before diving in. His eyes almost glaze over as he licks one strong stripe through your center, tongue gently flicking over the apex of your thighs in a way that makes you convulse and squirm beneath his tongue. There will be time for teasing later.

Azriel intends to fully make you beg for him when he can properly take you apart in the bed that has been dreadfully cold in your absence. He eats you like he was starving for it, in a way he was, as he laps at the juices running down your thighs and looks up at you through half-lidded lashes. Your cheeks are flushed, your chest heaving up and down as your fingers wind through his inky black hair. You urge him back down and he lets out a dark chuckle that wraps your bones in dark silks.

Azriel laps his tongue at your center before thrusting inside and you let out a moan of approval. His tongue fucks you in and out as one hand comes up to rub tight circles against your clit. You shatter against him with another scream of his name. Azriel’s eyes find yours again and he takes a moment to admire his queen. Your skin is flushed with a thin layer of sweat, even in the cool throne room, and you're lounging on the throne like a true ruler of the underworld. The sight makes his painfully hard cock twitch in his pants. He shucks your legs off of his shoulder before rising to his full height before you. You stare up at him through your eyelashes, playing innocent, even as you undo the laces that hold his pants shut. Your hand runs over him and his head falls back with a groan. 

He needs to get inside you now or this is going to be over far before it begins. 

He takes your hands away and pins them above your head as he slowly sinks in inch by tortuous inch. He tries to patiently wait for you to adjust but you dig your nails into his wrists and growl in his ear for him to “move already,” he begins to fuck you at a relentless pace. His hands drag down the top of your dress and he takes the weight of both breasts in his palms. He runs a thumb over your nipples before pinching and pulling in time to his thrusts.

“You’re such a good fucking girl,” He growls into your ear and he feels your run a hand up the back edge of his wing. He lets out a long moan, hips stuttering for a second, and he bites your neck in warning before pounding into you at a relentless pace.

You’re trying to arch your hips to meet his thrusts but you’re too fucking cock drunk to keep up. 

He reaches one hand down to play with your clit again and he brings you to another mind-numbing orgasm that makes your walls convulse around his cock. That and the way your nails are digging into his back sends him growling through his release. He pulls out slowly before tucking himself back in his pants and rearranging you so that you’re sat on his lap. Az rubs small circles on your lower back and you play with the ends of his hair.

“Sweetheart,” you mutter and he looks down at you, a small smile playing on your lips. “Where’s my throne?” He tries to smother the guilty look before feigning his innocence. With a wave of his hand your throne appears. A rose quartz twin to his obsidian one. 

“It depresses the souls when you’re not here Flower. I had to hide it.” It’s not a complete lie. He notices the sad glances the souls steal at your throne when you’re not here, it saddens him a bit as well, like half of his heart is missing. An incomplete set. 

“Uh-huh. Sure.” He sends another guilty smile your way. The whole truth is that he hid it so he could enjoy you on his throne, and you’ve always been able to clock his bullshit from a mile away. 

“Anyway,” He continues, hopeful to change the subject as he rises to his feet with you in his arms. You let out a small squeal and grip him tighter. “You have a party to prepare for my love. We’re thrilled to have you back.” He’s marching you to your bedroom and he kicks the throne room door closed behind him. 

“Azriel if you drop me I swear I will make flowers grow out of your ears.” It’s an empty threat. He can feel your body shake with unreleased laughter and hear the smile in your voice. Az leans down to playfully nip at your ear before he jostles you in his arms just to make the laugh you were holding bubble up in your chest. 

“I would never drop you Flower.” 

And for the first time in months, on the evening of the first day of winter, the halls of the Obsidian Castle are filled with the sounds of laughter.

[powdermelonkeg]

Echoes of Wisdom Trailer Analysis: Part 1

I'll tell you what, a new Zelda game, especially one this year, was NOT what I was expecting. I was hoping for a teaser a la "the sequel to BotW is now in development," but to have a full on main-series game come out? That caught me completely off guard.

But I've got my bearings. And I like what I see. So let's break down what we DID see, shall we?

Our opening shot has Link in some ruins, looking over at what appears to be Soldiers (as in the enemy, a lesser version of Darknuts), which are a staple for Fallen Timeline games.

However, they usually aren't this color, restricted to red, blue, and green. And they usually have swords or tridents, not axes.

The axes are a new development, as are the black armor and white capes. Maybe they've taken on the red -> blue -> green -> black -> silver difficulty pattern that BotW and TotK had?

Moving on.

Link here has a dark blue cape with teal geometric patterns on the back. Tempting as it is to connect this to the Zonai with the recent game-

-I'm going to abstain for now, because Zelda games like their teal geometry.

Looking around, the ruins Link finds himself in are unique.

We have eye patterns on the walls and double helixes framing the door. We haven't seen any pattern like this before, to my knowledge.

Link rushes in, sword drawn. The floor is plain square patterns on cracked tile.

We get our first glimpse of the Hylian Shield

As well as a clear shot of his sword. Oddly enough, it's not the Master Sword, or anything like it—it looks too plain to be something final, like the Four Sword or Phantom Sword:

And yet, it still very distinctly matches Link's current aesthetic, with the teal geometry.

Honestly, it looks more akin to a beginning sword that needs to change, like the Goddess Sword of Skyward Sword:

It's basic, it's easy to look at, but it's distinct and memorable.

Immedaitely after the cinematic run, the camera snaps to an overhead view, in which Link attacks. So there's at least a little gameplay as Link.

We see Princess Zelda in her crystal prison. Nothing unusual so far, but she definitely has a new look to her, even if her dress is distinctly Toon/Oracles/AlttP style remade.

Then we pan down to Ganon. Fallen Timeline's beast Gan, as we're used to seeing him. So far, he seems to look the most like his ALBW iteration, with the spiked cuffs around his wrists.

Link enters the scene. Purple mist is there for ambiance.

The pattern on the ground feels...ornamental. It doesn't stick out much or have enough detail on it to be the usual big-bad-evil-ritual.

Link throws his cape away dramatically.

Again, we get a camera-snapped view in which Link's attacks seem very much in the player's control.

And blocking Link off from escape, we have a magical barrier, though this one is emitting particles.

It's almost like Ganon's torn the ground open for this.

Defeated, ready for phase two, Ganon dissipates into purple sparks, only to reappear and start his tennis volley.

And here's where we get our proper view of him head-on.

ALBW's Ganon is a bit easy to miss in-game, because Yuga takes him over moments after he arrives. But he looks like this:

This is not our Gan's design.

He has the bracers, yes, but his forehead gem isn't spiked, his eyes are red, not white, his armor is gold with red edges and has chest plates that look a lot like really old art of ALttP Gan:

But most interestingly, his necklace is different.

In every version of Ganon that looks like this, he's either had a skull at his neck

Or a gem

But our Gan has something new. Something that, given the eyes in the corridor, feels deliberate:

There's a menace in this branch of Hyrule's history that's known for three things: a horned eye, purple magic, and possession.

And I'm out of images. Part 2 here!