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wildernessuntothemselves · 3 months ago

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Now See Them Burn in Fire | Part 2

Genre: dark fic, future smut, angst

Word Count: 9.6k

Chapter Excerpt:

But you can’t answer them, throat closed shut and eyes glued to the detached orbs on the floor–there in front of you lay the sacred bull’s missing eyes. Its eyes that used to be so bright in life with warmth and light now replaced with icy blue crystals crudely jammed in the middle of the irises to form the evil eye, and its menacing gaze was set directly on you.

You can’t deny it anymore. You are the intended target. If the gods were watching you through the creatures eyes in life then this monster is watching you in death.

He was here again, in your home, in your room, just like he had been in your temple. There is no refuge of your own that is safe from his dark presence.

“Oh dear gods, save us.” You hear your father whisper fearfully, following your line of sight and realising what had alarmed you so.

“It’s for me. I have been cursed.” You say, your voice devoid of any emotion, body going cold with a numbness that can only come about from the realisation that one is utterly doomed. “What am I to tell Kai?”

Warnings: fem!reader, DARK FIC, FUTURE NONCON/CON, gore, mentions of cruelty to animals, character death, iron age au, supernatural au, yandere beomgyu

___________________________________

A small part of you feels guilty about it. You know it hurt him to hear you accuse him of the same hearsay everyone else flings at him. You were supposed to be different, he must've thought, and you’re ashamed to prove you aren’t, but you can’t risk your future and place in the tribe to stand by him when at best he is being misjudged and by choosing him you doom yourself to a future of living as outcasts together, your offspring having no hope of any viable future, and at worst, everyone is right about him and he drags you to the depth of blackness with him.

Beomgyu keeps his distance from you much to your surprise. Given how bold he was in that forest, you half expected him to continue to pursue you despite your rejection but you suppose you finally got your message across.

But you can’t think about it for too long. You and Kai are now official and you have to focus on your future and the future of your family, especially because you still don't know what the fallen star was meant to foreshadow. Your parents weren't able to find much on it, only stumbling across vague warnings of falls from grace, being cast from heaven, ruin and damnation. The doom and gloom of curses–the most powerful of them all–but no more details than that and no way to intercept or stop it.

Was it doom for you? For your family? For the entire tribe? They couldn’t tell you, but you knew that associating with the dark boy was not likely to make things any better.

You had suggested seeking help from the elders, perhaps someone else knew more about it, but your family quickly snuffed that idea out. How could you ask such a stupid thing? You think the others would take kindly to doom tellers? You think they would welcome an inescapable prophecy of blood and death?

No, you were to keep your mouth shut and work in secret to get to the bottom of this. It doesn’t even have to mean anything. It could all just be a coincidence.

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing from your parents. It was borderline blasphemy. A coincidence? There was no such thing in the art of reading the stars. The stars do not simply plummet themselves to death because they were bored one day. This is a sign and you all know it but they choose to turn a blind eye to what they can’t fix, like a mouse freezing in place when it encounters the jaws of the snake.

Still, it is easy for them to forget and brush it off when things have been going so well for you. With the announcement of your betrothal to the future leader, your already esteemed place in the tribe climbs right to the top.

You parents are quite pleased with it. They always thought they deserved more than they were getting. They even thought they deserved more than the leader’s family. After all, you were the spirituals and divinators that guided the entire tribe and the ones who they entrusted their eternal souls with. Why shouldn’t your place be at the top?

It was jarring to see how close and dear your parents have gotten to the leader and his family and how flattering and generous they were being–regaling him with poems about his bravery and wisdom when behind closed doors they would rake him over the coals with their scathing remarks about his intelligence and short temper, likening him to the beasts that live in the forest.

But it isn’t like the leader wasn’t aware of their duplicity or that he didn’t enjoy their excessive flattery. He purposefully encouraged them to continue feeding his massive ego, caring nothing if their intentions were true or not.

Truth be told, this situation was making you see them all in an unfavourable light. You used to look up to them as tough but reliable and wise, only doing what was best for the tribe, but now you see how they're all working for their own favor.

But you can't act too righteously, for you also found it shamefully easy to not care about the hypocrisy or the lies or even the threat of damnation hanging over your heads, not when Kai was your prize–and what a sweet prize he was. Unlike them, he was pure of heart. Beneath his angelic features was an even more generous and kind soul. You actually believe the words he speaks. You know he does not lie and so when he acts loving and sweet towards you, you know to trust it.

You get so caught up with him and your family gets so caught up with his that you start neglecting your calling and your duty to the tribe. Even the search for the star is momentarily forgotten. After all, where was this fabled curse? Here you are having the best time of your life, your fortune more blessed than ever. Maybe the fallen star really didn't mean anything at all.

Oh how arrogant you were. How blasphemous. The stars are not there for your entertainment. They're not little light shows just there to brighten your night, and you should’ve heeded their warning. Maybe if you did, you could have saved everyone.

It starts small, like most horrible inescapable fates do, with the farmers finding odd symbols burnt onto their fields. The shapes strange at first but then vaguely familiar as old runes you’ve all collectively lost the knowledge of. Some similar to the stone pillar in the heart of the sacred temple and others unseen by any of your kind before.

They were written off as youngster mischief at first–the youth just finding new and creative ways to occupy their time and mess with their elders. Even as the farmers started growing more and more anxious as more and more of these strange symbols cropped up, ruining a sizable portion of their crops–done seemingly by an unseen force as no one has been able to catch or even catch a glimpse of the culprit in action despite the numerous watches being set up–they were brushed off and assured it would stop when the culprits grew bored of not getting the reactions they wanted.

But the culprits were not dissuaded. They just took it a step further, and soon the symbols were found not just on crops but burned or carved onto the flesh of the animals. That’s when the people really started panicking. They didn’t understand what this meant but they knew something was seriously awry.

Even the other animals knew, as they seemingly avoided the ones marked by the unseen force as if being near them could infect them too. The farmers refused to consume the goods of these afflicted creatures and no one tried to convince them to–and maybe for good reason as soon these poor souls were slaughtered one by one by that unseen force in the night.

They were found massacred as if by a wild animal, bits of fur and fat and brains scattered around fields. Entire body parts missing. Heads chopped off and found in children’s cots.

This was no mere joke. This was the work of a demented individual or individuals, and no one even knew what they wanted. But this new development finally got the elders to pay attention and take this seriously.

They started by calling for meetings. First between themselves in order to figure out the source and meaning of these runes and how to stop this malicious energy, still foolishly holding onto the hope that this was under control and that they can stop it. But when they came up as empty as your family did, they turned to you and other young apprentices in their desperation, seeking any suggestion that could help them decipher the code. But of course that yielded even less results and led to panic spreading across the tribe when the looser tongues of the less experienced spoke too much.

As more and more crops and livestock gave way under this unseen dark force, there was a widespread fear–almost expectation–of what to do when it reached the people themselves. Again the elders reassured the people–lying through their teeth that there is nothing to be concerned about, still insisting this was the work of a group of troubled youth, all while they used their precious powers and resources to bless and protect themselves and the people and sites most important to them, resting easy for a while in the belief that at least they were safe hiding behind their powers while the rest of their people were left in the open with whatever was out there, watching and waiting to see if it will start developing a taste for humans next.

The good gods will protect them just like they always have, they thought. After all, they were their most esteemed servants and this dark force–whatever its origin may be–could not possibly stand up to the combined powers of such godly men and women, right? It will soon stop and retreat back to the dark groves from whence it came.

It was disgusting to witness it all, seeing the people you admired and respected so much only thinking of themselves. This thing–whatever it was--has lifted the veil of naivety and innocence off your eyes and exposed you to the brutal reality of the world around you–a world you once thought was built on altruism and honour but have now come to realize was all a lie. Your heroes weren't wise, virtuous leaders, but scared, selfish and arrogant hypocrites who hoarded their powers for themselves while simultaneously covering their eyes with their own hands and refusing to see the danger right in front of them.

They completely refuse to acknowledge that the animals weren’t butchered with wanton and random cruelty–there was something spine-chillingly deliberate about the slaughter. The savage cuts may have seemed like the work of a mad spirit hungry for blood at first glance but if they were to look even just a little more closely they would see that they were deliberate, intentional–the missing body parts of the corpses were not mere bits of meat torn away to be devoured. They were key pieces to a gruesome bigger picture–the tongue of a cow, the heart of a deer, the testicles of a bull, the feet of a chicken–these are all ingredients used in dark magic.

You had said as much to your family, and you knew they knew it too but they still arrogantly–or fearfully–dismissed it. After all, who would possess the knowledge to perform such dark arts apart from the priests and priestesses themselves, and not just any of them–this knowledge is only accessible to the most powerful and most respected of the lot such as your parents. There is no way one of them has gone rogue with the others being none the wiser.

But you know that’s not fully true because you have accessed such knowledge secretly after spying on your parents, and if you could do it then someone else could have done it too. Some of the children of the other powerful priests and priestesses could have done the same. Or someone could have let it slip to an outsider…

But even the elders and even your parents can’t shut their eyes and cover their ears any longer when the hand that works in the shadows reaches forward to touch the most cherished and protected, right in their midst.

You were the one to find it–the sacred bull that resided in the heart of the temple–or what has become of it.

It was a gruesome sight. Its body butchered, the entrails pulled out and hung over its altar, the scent of blood and organs heavy in the air and tasting of metal, the corpse posed in a grotesque mockery of the god it represents.

It was such a gentle animal, friendly with wise eyes that often made you feel as if you were being watched by the gods themselves. But it never made you feel judged. Instead you felt safe and protected by the large, strong animal that was only easy to shepherd due to its gentle nature, but was also capable of great force if provoked–as you’ve witnessed first hand when it was handled incorrectly by someone it didn’t deem worthy. You knew it wouldn’t have been easy to take down the majestic beast and it certainly wasn't easy to string it up and flay it in this grisly way. Its eyes that comforted you so much were nowhere to be found, plucked right out of its skull and leaving behind black hollow sockets that stare you down with the ghastly gaze of death itself.

An overwhelming sense of nausea built up in your stomach at the thought of being so alone without the watchful eyes of the gentle creature–even more so than you were at the abominable mockery that has been made of its remains, and you couldn’t even make it more than a few steps away before you fell to your knees on the floor and vomited your guts out.

It kept coming and coming even when your stomach was long empty, your body purging itself as if your insides were trying to escape it and run away from the danger it sensed.

It didn’t take long for someone to be alerted to this catastrophe, and a small crowd soon gathered around the slain animal, sobs and gasps of horror filling the once serene sanctuary.

The elders eventually made their appearance and after getting over their initial shock and revulsion at the sight, quickly dispersed the crowd, ordering them not to mention this to any of the tribes people and instructing some of the other apprentices to take you outside for some fresh air, thinking that only the sight of the slaughtered beast was the cause of your intractable sickness.

But you couldn’t even get to your feet. They had to drag you out as you shook and dry heaved, a cold sweat drenching your body and making it slippery in their grasp, causing them to lose grip and plummet you to your feet more than once, each time your weak body slamming against the ground as you had no strength to break your fall, the impact making you even more nauseous and weak.

The only small reprieve you got is when the outside fresh air met your drenched skin and cooled down your overheated body, allowing you a moment of relief. But that fleeting reprieve was quickly gone as your body went from cool to cold and you started shaking. You curled up into a ball, trying to conserve your body heat and unable to utter any word of reassurance to the poor apprentices who watched you, horrified at your stricken condition. You’re sure their minds were conjuring up all sorts of terrifying tales about what had just happened, but none of it would come close to your bizarrely confident belief in who exactly was behind this.

Because it's not what you've seen that terrifies you, it's what you haven’t. You saw no evidence of this being the work of a group of demented individuals like your elders have been insisting. This was not the work of any human at all. This was something cold and evil, and you think you know exactly who it is–the shiver currently racking your body more a product of breathtaking dread than the cold.

Mercifully, your mind eventually tires your body out, but before all strength leaves you, you become vaguely aware of being picked up by someone–a warm, strong body pressed against your own, grounding you and preventing you from giving in to the terror completely.

________________________

“She's waking up!” Someone shouts, entirely too loudly for you tired and sensitive ears, and you flinch away, trying to nuzzle further into the softness surrounding you in order to block it out.

“She is.” Another voice adds, and you immediately recognize the deadpan voice of your mother. “See, she is okay. You can head home now and we'll take it from here.”

“Darling, can you hear me?” The first voice gets closer, ignoring your mother, and you feel a feverish touch against your face, almost scalding against your own overheated body which makes you pull away.

“What is wrong with her?” The voice asks, and even through your delirious nightmare state, you could hear the obvious concern marring it.

“Nothing. She will be fine if you just let her rest, Kai.” Your father says sharply and you force your eyes to flutter open when you finally realise who the person touching you is. Your vision swims and you find it hard to focus but you can recognize Kai's worried gaze even through the haziness.

“Kai?” You ask, wincing as the sound cracks your parched throat.

“I am here, my love.” He tells you and gets even closer to you but you use what little strength you have to pull away, grimacing at the look of hurt that crosses his handsome face. “How are you?”

“I am okay.” You repeat your father's sentiment, your tired brain still recognizing the need to get him away from all of this–for his sake and yours. You don't want him to see whatever is happening to you and you don't want it to hurt him. “You don't need to be here.”

His blurry frown still hurts your heart, as does the hesitant way he pulls his hand away. “I was just worried. I know about what happened at the temple. I can’t imagine how you must feel having witnessed that dreadful sight. Oh, what they did to that poor animal was heinous. And for you to see it like that… I know how much you cared for the beast–”

Bile rises up in the back of your throat at the reminder, and you cut Kai off. “I’m okay. I was just shocked, is all. You needn’t worry yourself about me.”

“What are you on about? As your future husband and leader of this tribe, I must protect you and my people from the scum who did this. Rest assured, my love, I won’t let those barbarians get away with it.”

Your eyes widen and your heart rate picks up in fear at his words. No, no, this is exactly what you didn’t want to happen. You don’t want him to get involved in this. He is no match for the darkness looming over all of you. It will swallow him whole and spit out bones. You must keep him away from this.

“No!” You blurt out loudly, making him jump back in shock. Out of the corner of your eyes you can see your parents shooting you warning looks, silently telling you to get a grip and not reveal too much.

You clear your throat and try to reign in your terror. “You don’t have to worry about me, my love. The elders have it all under control. We must keep our trust in them. That is how we’ll remain safe.”

“Of course!” He agrees immediately, sheepishly. “I do not mean to doubt the elders. I simply wish to do my part for you and my people.”

Your heart twists guiltily at his innocence and the untainted good in him. He is the one who must be protected. He must remain pure, which is why you have to keep him away from this.

“You always do, my sweet. But we should leave this to the elders. They know what to do.” You reach out to cup his cheek, your soul aching at the way he melts into the touch for a second before he leans forward to press a gentle kiss to your forehead.

You close your eyes, quietly savouring the act of kindness and tenderness before pushing him away. “You should go now, love. I need to rest.”

“You can rest. I'll stay by your side.” He gives you a gentle smile that hurts you even more. You want nothing more than for him to stay by your side and ward the evil spirits away but you know you must make him leave so you can speak to your parents in private about this new disturbing development.

“There is really no need. I will rest easier knowing you are also rested.”

“But I–”

“My lord, you really must allow us the chance to tend to our daughter. You being here will only excite her more and delay her recovery.” Your father says irritably, flustering Kai. Really, must your father be so short with him?

“Oh, I didn't realise that. Forgive me–”

“You are forgiven. Now if you'll excuse us.” Your mother interjects, shooing him off the floor and towards the door. Your heart lurches in your chest at the dejected look on his face. It flings itself against your ribcage and demands for you to follow him, but you can’t.

“Very well. I will see you soon?” He asks hopefully and you nod, mustering up the smallest smile for him. “Very soon.”

He smiles widely at that, but you hardly see it before your mother pushes him out the door and closes it behind him, all warmth suddenly leaving the room with him, and as soon as you are alone with your parents, they are on you, interrogating you about what happened as if you had a clue.

“Did you see who did it?” Your father asks.

You shake your head.

“Were there any clues?” Your mother follows up.

You shake your head.

“What does this mean?” Your father quickly adds and you sigh deeply, feeling the dread gnawing at your bones. “I don't know. But I know it is related to the fallen star. The end is coming.”

You expect your parents to scold you, to tell you to stop your prophesying of doom and gloom–that it really wasn’t as bad as you were making it out to be and that they will find a way to fix this. But instead, they wring their hands and exchange nervous glances, and that’s when the panic really starts to set it.

________________

The elder’s now feel affirmed more than ever in their terrifying conclusion that this was not the work of one demented soul but an organised effort by a group of individuals working together in tandem to bring chaos to the tribe. To what end, they still didn’t know, but they were certain that no one human can achieve this feat of superhuman strength by themselves and that this must mean that there is a secret cult working to undermine the very foundation of this tribe, to take it down from its strongest link and watch everything else will fall apart following suit.

But you have a more terrifying proposal that you do not dare utter. This was the work of a single individual, a dark rotten soul that has crossed the invisible line between flawed but salvageable human to complete corruption into a demon.

But you won't say it. You can’t even bring yourself to fully accept it. There is no way he could have achieved this level of power. There is no way he has forsaken his soul so completely…

But when you had looked into the hollow sockets that had once contained the bull’s gentle eyes, you couldn’t help but conceitedly think that this was intentionally targeted at you. You were one of the privileged few tasked with caring for this most sacred and divine animal, and through its familiar eyes, the gods watched over you and protected you for years. But now that it has been blinded, will they be able to ward off the creeping evil that they can't see?

The elders interrogate you about that cursed day over and over again, along with everyone else that had access to the sacred temple in order to try to piece together who could’ve done this. They reasoned that whoever did this must be someone from within your midst, otherwise how would they have managed to slip in unnoticed and bypass all the protections meant to keep outsiders away?

But who were they and what exactly did they want, is what they’ve been desperately trying to find out, but their interrogations led them nowhere. Sure, suspicions and accusations were flung around–everyone blaming everyone else in their scared and panicked state, any perceived suspicious look or action was reported to the elders and investigated heavily but no concrete evidence against anyone has been found yet and all this inquiring has managed to do is breed fear and mistrust amongst your ranks. Everyone had one eye on their back and one eye on the other apprentices and priests, watching out for any sign of betrayal, fearful of meeting the same fate as the poor beast. You were now more divided than ever, and if the assailant’s purpose in doing this was to take you down from within, then they’ve already succeeded.

The rising tensions are made even worse when things start to go missing from the temple–powerful totems, valuable ingredients, ceremonial weapons wielded by the gods in their battles… piece by piece they start vanishing, further proving to the elders that the assailants had help from someone within the temple.

They start keeping inventory of everything that goes missing in an attempt to divinate the next movement of the culprit, trying to predict what spell or potion they have got planned and what they might seek next, and piece by piece a horrific picture starts to form. They can’t tell exactly what the assailant’s plan was, but they quickly realise that it involved some ancient and dark magic that has largely been lost to time.

Whoever or whatever is doing this has found a way to unlock knowledge no longer available to the rest of you, and you had no way of protecting yourselves against it.

________________________________

Kai tries to take your mind off things. Every day after your morning of prayer and interrogation has finished, he walks you along flowery fields and bubbling river banks and speaks to you of the bright futures and happy endings he has planned for you. He tells you how he can’t wait for you to be married and what he imagines your family life will look like–filled with joy and love and the tinkling laughter of a house full of children. You’ll have many, he says, both boys and girls. They’ll be strong and smart and beautiful, just like you–he says. And when you ask if they’ll be priests and priestesses like you or political leaders like their dad, he says they’ll be whoever they want to be just as long as they’re happy and healthy and you all have each other. His sincerity and earnestness almost brings tears to your eyes. You can tell how much he wants it and you want it so badly as well.

But neither the sweet smell of the roses nor the soft sounds of the water can soothe your nerves. Your fear to touch the roses lest thorns tear your skin. You fear to dip your feet into the water lest it wash you away. And most of all you fear to let yourself step into the enticing dream he has laid out for you lest you fall into a trap and get swallowed whole. You feel severed from the world around you, unable to tell if it would turn against you at a moment’s notice, and even Kai senses it.

“Hey, it will all be alright. The gods will protect us.” He smiles at you, trying to reassure you but your frown only grows deeper.

Will they? They couldn't even protect their own vessel so how will they protect you? But you don’t dare share your worrying thoughts. Kai may be kind but even he must have his limits. He may not tolerate such blasphemy.

You feel his hand on your cheek as he turns you to face him. He brushes the lines of your frown with his thumb gently, his own smooth skin furrowing in response to your distress.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Who might be behind this and what their purpose is.” You tell him truthfully but leave out your one suspect. He may be the tribe outcast but that doesn’t mean that your conspiracies about him wouldn’t sound unhinged to Kai. After all, what reason would he have to be doing all of this? What does he gain from it apart from getting back at you and sowing chaos amongst the tribe’s people? No, you have to have better evidence than this, otherwise you’d be exposing yourself and your connection to him for nothing.

“Maybe the gods are testing us.” He offers, unsure but hopeful. “Maybe they wish to ensure our faith in them is strong and this is our chance to prove this unwavering faith to them, to show them that Gija and his mistakes won’t be repeated again.”

You hesitate. Did Gija face something similar to this? Is this the untold story of why he turned against the gods? Because they had seemingly forsaken him when danger loomed its vicious head?

No. You must refrain from these sacrilegious thoughts. This is precisely the type of doubt and fear these attacks are meant to provoke, and as a woman of religion, you should have more faith than this.

“Maybe.” You answer, wincing at how unconvinced you sound and hoping he can’t hear it.

But Kai, ever the caring and tolerant being that he is, doesn’t strike you down for it. Instead, he meets your doubt and fear with compassion and sympathy. “I wish I could take your worries away… or at least lighten their burden on your precious shoulders. If I could bear some of your worries so you can finally get some rest, I would in a heartbeat.”

You give him a small but genuine smile. He is too sweet, too pure. This world doesn’t deserve him. You know you certainly don’t. “I could never wish such pain on you, my sweet. You're the only thing that keeps me going.”

He sighs, a hint of frustration coming out in his breath that surprises you, and he tangles his hand in your hair and leans his forehead against yours. “I want to help.” He insists, exasperated.

“You are helping.” You maintain, trying to silence his self-doubt, but you both know that’s not the full truth.

“Not enough.” He murmurs sadly, pressing a chaste kiss against your lips–so soft and unsure, beseeching, seeking approval from you, everything that his kiss wasn't.

You are suddenly angry. You don’t want to be thinking of that stolen kiss. You don’t want to judge your future kisses by it, no matter how favourable they appear in comparison. It shouldn’t have happened and you certainly shouldn’t still be thinking about it.

But you can’t stop. Not when he has been on your mind since this calamity has been set in motion. You’ve barely seen him since that night in the forest. He has not made any attempt to speak to you or get your attention in any way again but you still can’t shake the feeling that he’s behind all of this.

Is it superstitious and judgemental? Yes. Should you as a priestess rise above these base accusations that so many of your fellow people so easily fall into without thinking? Yes. But you can’t help it. Not when his mere existence has poisoned your mind–shutting your eyes and plugging your ears to the point that you are barely hearing the sweet sounds the boy in front of you is making. And when Kai tries to press his tongue against yours, you flinch back, breaking the kiss as if you were doing something wrong. As if you’ll get punished if you keep going.

“What is it?” Kai asks, concerned and a little bit hurt at your apparent rejection.

You put on a fake smile for him. “Nothing. I just thought I saw something.”

He frowns. You can tell he wants so badly to believe you and so he tries to lean in for another kiss, hoping this time you won’t reject him, but you instinctively do, taking a step back from him, and now he really looks wounded.

“Are you okay?” He still asks, your well-being still his first thought and it fucking stabs at your heart.

“I am.” You say and his frown grows deeper and takes on a bitter edge, now probably thinking that if you’re alright then you are rejecting him for him and nothing else, and you can’t let that stand. “I mean, I am trying to be but I just feel a bit overwhelmed with everything that has been happening.”

“You shouldn’t worry about that, my sweet. I'll protect you.” He proclaims and a small airy laugh leaves your lips before you can stop it, unintentionally offending your lover further.

“What is it? You don't think I can protect you?” He moves away, finally having enough of your disrespect, and you panic, quickly grabbing his hands and squeezing them tightly. “I do not mean to offend you, my love.”

He scoffs, taking his hands out of your grip, rejecting you for the first time, and just the thought of it squeezes the air out of your lungs. “But you do not deny it. You don't think I can protect you.”

“I am not sure anything can protect us.” You confess cautiously. You wish you could lie and make this better, but you can’t lie to him. At least not anymore than you already are. He has to be warned. “This… thing. It is much too dark and powerful for any of us.”

“Surely it isn't stronger than our courageous religious men and women. They have the gods’ favor. What can prevail against that?” He asks, and you pause. You have to navigate this carefully. You can’t let him see the cataclysmic doubt that threatens the very core of your beliefs. What would you even be if you didn’t have your belief anymore? What is a priestess without her gods?

“Nothing, my sweet boy.” You paint your face with the most sincere smile you can muster and reach out to cup his face in your hands lovingly. What that looks like, you don’t know, but he still leans into your touch, breaking your heart further as he answers your fake smile with a genuine one of his own and stares at you with the night stars’ twinkling in his pretty eyes.

All the stars of the night sky but one.

________________

The panic has now spread to the elders. They can no longer turn a blind eye to what is happening around them, especially because despite all their efforts, they are no closer to finding the culprit whose hands have now reached into their midst and left them scrambling for an answer that would explain this threat's surprising prowess.

Was this the work of a rogue priest? A mythical demon? Were the gods themselves unhappy and smiting you down?

That last one is becoming worryingly and increasingly popular among the tribe's people with every passing day. With no real answers to turn to in times of trouble, this is the one most people eventually fall back on. If the gods are the source of prosperity in good times then naturally the opposite would happen if you fall out of their favour.

But you refuse to believe this. It doesn't make sense to you. If the gods are behind this then why would they target their own vessel? Why would they make it look like an attack on the gods themselves?

But once again, you couldn't say that. It's blasphemous to even imply anyone or anything can harm the gods. And so who do you blame when the gods aren't happy with what their subjects are doing? The leaders of those subjects, of course. If they did their job correctly and faithfully the gods would've protected them from whatever was out there lurking at the edge of darkness.

This is the line of thinking that scares you the most. If people fall into this trap then it could quickly turn ugly for Kai and his family, even you. You're not at the top of the command chain but you're a priestess of the gods and if the people perceive that you're failing in your duty to appease those gods then you are in trouble.

Kai tries to calm you down, reassuring you that the people are just stressed and panicking but that once the culprit is caught, this will only strengthen their loyalty to his family and the religious leaders who have protected them. Which all sounds great in theory, but how in the hell were they going to achieve that when they still haven't the faintest clue as to the culprit's identity? No one knows who is behind this and at this point, everyone has started turning on everyone else around them. Neighbours were suspicious of their fellow neighbours, dear friends no longer trusted each other. Even families were starting to break at the seams with fear and doubt. The whole tribe was on the verge of moral collapse and the elders and leaders could do nothing to stop it.

You, of course, retain your perhaps paranoid inkling about the dark boy. It all makes sense to your panic stricken mind. He knows the layout of the temple from your stupid stories. He knows where the sacred items that have gone missing were kept. He even knows some basic spells and he could learn much more from those stolen artifacts.

But surely that's not enough? You've trained for years and even you could not carry out an attack of this magnitude. There is no chance he could be capable of this. And what would he even be doing this for? What does he gain from it? Just to spite you? Surely not. You’re being delusional, succumbing to the same panic the common people were. You have no proof and going around accusing him will just land you in trouble. It would just reveal your ill-advised past friendship with him and cast you in an even more suspicious light.

You have to keep your diseased thoughts to yourself, but it becomes increasingly hard each passing day, especially when you receive yet another “gift”.

When you first saw it perched there innocently on your table, you thought it was from Kai. He has a habit of leaving you gifts, big and small, here and there to try to brighten your day and make you think of him instead of being trapped in your gloomy thoughts. They ranged from little sweets he liked or a pretty flower he found to extravagant rings or hair ornaments he had made specifically for you.

This one is an ornate, delicately carved wooden box which is one of the most beautiful containers you have ever seen–and for a moment you wonder if that is the gift in itself–already thinking about how you'll surely be using it to store all the precious jewelry he has already gifted you.

But you were curious to see if it did contain anything, and you find yourself eagerly grabbing the lid and pulling it open to see if there is anything inside.

But as soon as you do, you quickly drop it with a scream, your knees giving way under you and plummeting you to the ground next to it, the contents of it rolling on the floor in a bloody trail towards you as if it was chasing after you.

You scramble like a trapped hare away from it, barely realising that your parents have joined you in the room after hearing your cry and the crash.

“What is it, child?”

You can’t deny it anymore. You are the intended target. If the gods were watching you through the creatures eyes in life then this monster is watching you in death.

He was here again, in your home, in your room, just like he had been in your temple. There is no refuge of your own that is safe from his dark presence.

“Oh dear gods, save us.” You hear your father whisper fearfully, following your line of sight and realising what had alarmed you so.

Your beloved will surely abandon you once he finds out and you cannot fault him. Even love has its limits and who would stand by someone who has the evil eye upon them?

“Have you gone mad?” Your mother hisses, grabbing you by the shoulders and pulling you to your feet, shaking you. “No one is to hear of this.”

“But mother–” If you don't tell him, he will be dragged into this curse too and you can’t do that to him. It is one thing to be cursed but it is another matter entirely to be so vile as to knowingly extend the same fate onto your beloved.

“Nothing! If you speak a word of this to anyone, we'll all be cast out. Do you want to kill us?” She asks and you blanch. “No, of course not. I would never wish to hurt you but I do not wish to hurt him either.”

“He will not get hurt. We can fix this.” She tells you and you stare at her in disbelief mixed with a small inkling of hope. “How?”

“Every curse has its antidote. Just as someone put this curse on you, likely a jealous girl who wanted the future leader for herself, we can lift it off.”

“You believe this is the work of a mere jealous girl?” Your father asks, clearly doubtful, and she wrings her hands nervously, not believing it herself. This was too advanced, too dark. “Perhaps. Doesn’t matter. Whoever did it surely cannot stand up to our combined power. I am confident we can dispel this.”

“There is no use.” You shake your head, despairing. “The evil eye is set upon me. I am doomed.”

Your mother slaps you. “Hush you stupid child. Do not speak such things. You are not doomed. This is merely the work of someone who is trying to ruin your reputation. They're bluffing. They may not have even done this correctly. See, they've already made their first grave mistake. Now that we have an item connected to them we can reach across the ether directly to pull them to us and reveal their true face. Then we shall strike them down and end this once and for all.”

Your tears start to dry and you look at her hopefully. You hadn't considered that. Of course! With this–this vile object in your grasp you can finally trace all of this back to the abominable culprit. “Really, mother? We can stop him?”

“Him?” Your father asks sharply and you cringe back, cursing yourself for the slip-up. “Him. Her. It. Whatever is behind this.”

You hold your breath as he scrutinises you. You imagine a look of suspicion in his eyes and you look away in guilt. Oh gods please don't let him see. You would not bear the blame and disappointment. You felt awful enough already.

Finally, after a measure of silence, your father proclaims, “Yes. whoever is behind this has some power. I can feel it. But we have had the blood of the mages in our family line for centuries.” You almost breathe a sigh of relief. If your father says it, then it must be so. But then he continues, “He is no match to us.”

You gulp, nodding.

___________________

Your parents are fluttering about, arranging the final pieces of the ritual. The smells soothe you, the routine familiar. You know this. You're good at this. Even if he is behind all of this, he still doesn't know as much about it as you do. The art of magic has been in your family for centuries while he is a mere novice. He doesn't stand a chance against your family's power. You’ve gotten yourself into such a state over nothing.

You step up to the circle with a smile. This will all be over soon.

Your family places the wreath of weaved Mugwort and Enchanter’s herb around your neck. They bless you with burning sage and mark your skin with precious dyes in divine symbols meant to invoke the protection of the gods. Once you’re anointed and dressed appropriately, you all reach out to clasp hands and start the chanting, calling upon the gods to watch over you during this perilous venture. You feel a cold breeze overtake the punishing heat in the air and cool you down for the first time in weeks, the bone-deep fever that had been hanging heavily over you starting to seep off your skin. You feel your face naturally relax into a smile as the healing, soothing power of the gods you adore touches your soul once more .

This is it. The curse will lift off you. You should have never doubted the gods. They would never let a true believer like you succumb to such vile forces of evil.

But your relief is short-lived, barely there before it is whisked away again as your parents continue to chant, now demanding the evil come forth to reveal itself, and you start to see a black cloud materialise in the air and sink down over you, first clouding your vision then stifling your breathing and eventually coming to wrap itself around your body, paralysing you with its sweltering heat.

You look to your parents in panic, barely able to see them through the steamy haze. You try to open your mouth to say something but it gets swallowed up by the damp darkness surrounding you.

Please. Cast it away again. I don’t want to do this anymore. I’m scared. Please. You desperately wish to tell them, a sense of dread flooding your paralysed body so fully you fear it would drown you.

But they don’t stop, going on with their spell, this time attempting to pull the evil away from you to force it to take shape in the centre of the sacred circle so that they can finally start to attack it without hurting you. But it will not let go of you. It fights back, lashing out and digging its claws into your skin with savage force, making you cry out in pain and almost let go of your mother’s hand, but she holds onto it tightly, not letting the spell break.

You gaze towards her, a fearful look in your eyes as you experience the real pain of your skin being torn into. This thing is even more powerful than you all thought and you can see it in their eyes too. It frightens them but they steel their resolve and chant louder, demanding the evil to let you go and reveal itself to them.

You wish it wouldn’t. What you’ve seen of this force so far has been nothing but alarming. Just the awareness of its malevolent presence is enough to make you want to run away and hide. You don’t want to face it. You know that’s stupid and irrational of you. Even if you can’t see it, you will still know it is there, coiled so tightly around you and blocking out all the goodness and light in the world. It is too late to back down now, not when you have already called it forth.

You hear the strain in your parents’ voices as they grapple with the force, bellowing at it and demanding it let you go, but that just makes it dig its claws deeper and deeper into your body until it almost reaches bone. The pain is becoming unbearable and your head starts to swim with the sensation of losing too much blood. You look down at your body, half-expecting to see it gushing out of the deep gashes you can feel in your skin, but your eyes don't meet any red.

Instead what you do see makes you almost pass out in horror–black leathery hands engulfing your figure in its hateful grip, its dirty claws digging into your skin as it struggles to hold onto you against your parents’ forceful invocations for it to depart. You can feel the anger and malevolence emanating from it and burrowing into your body. It doesn’t want to let you go. It wants to keep you in its hold until it has consumed you whole.

But your parents won’t let it. Their power reaches forth to wrap around the vile creature and pull it off you, brutally yanking at it until its claws tear off your skin and it is finally forced to let go.

You shake like a leaf as you see it standing there towering over all three of you in the middle of the enchanted circle. You cannot make out much of its features–the dark cloud like a veil seeming to shimmer and sway over it, obscuring most of its face and body, but you can see the ghastly pointed horns atop its head and those same deathly blue eyes fixed right on you.

“Who sent you?” Your father asks, but the figure does not answer. It doesn’t even acknowledge your father at all, its cold gaze squarely on you as it reaches forward towards you, desiring to reclaim its grip on you.

You shrink back and try to yank your hands out of your parents grip, wishing desperately to run away from this thing before it manages to latch onto you again.

But your parents hold onto you tightly, your father shouting at the creature, deciding it is too dangerous to try to gain any answers from it and focusing instead on attempting to banish it. “Begone, foul spirit. Cease back to the underworld from whence you came.”

A shock of power springs up and shoves the creature back and away from you. Its cold, dead eyes light up with fury and it finally moves its ghoulish gaze away from you and fixes it onto your father who slowly starts to be surrounded by the same dark cloud that looms heavily around the creature.

“What are you doing?” Your father asks as the cloud sways and slithers like a pit of snakes over his body. “Oh, heavens, please.”

The fear in his voice is almost the most gruesome sound you’ve ever heard, second only to the howl of pain he subsequently lets out as the ghostly tendrils tighten themselves around his body and squeeze, crushing him.

“No, please!” You cry out, once again trying to pull your hands away. You like to think that if you succeed you’d try to liberate your father from the force’s deathly grip, but you know your terror is so great that you’re just as likely to run away instead.

You don’t get to find out however as your mother keeps her grip on you almost as tight as the creature does on your father, her voice ringing loudly around your home, indirectly telling you to focus on the incantation and not break the spell as the black tendrils coil tighter and tighter around your father’s body.

You do your best, you really do, joining your shaky voice with her forceful one to keep the spell going but you know your mind is unfocused–your soul not present fully as you watch the life being choked out of your father in horror.

You see it in his eyes first–the fear breaking through his usually steely and stoic gaze. Then it’s his voice, hesitant and strained as the evil spirit coils tighter around him until the words are barely choked out. Then it’s the horrible crunching noise, like bones getting crushed by a boulder, followed by a strained wail that barely sounds like your father, barely sounds human at all.

“Father!” You can’t do it. You can’t keep the spell going, not when blood starts pouring out of the corner of his mouth and his eyes protrude forward as if they’re being squeezed out of his skull.

The last sound you hear from your father is a haunting low groan that comes from deep within his chest before it gets abruptly cut off as a spurt of blood comes forth from his mouth to drench you and your mother, his hands finally letting go of you as he falls limply to the floor.

“No!” Your mother screams, also letting go of your bruised hand and rushing forward to catch her husband, only to recoil in horror as his body crumbles gruesomely in her arms.

You back away, not looking at them but instead staring at the shadowy figure still standing over them. Your mother is too busy wailing over your father’s corpse to pay it any mind but you cannot take your gaze away from it. The danger is still here and it’s coming right at you.

You try to run away but it is too fast for you. Its shrouded hand shoots forward to grab onto your arm, its oppressive strength keeping you in place.

Oh gods, what have you done? Your ritual meant to bring the dark force forward in order to defeat it has only succeeded in giving it shape and allowing it to dig itself even deeper into your lives.

And it knows it too. It’s obvious in the sinister way it smiles at you before it slowly dissipates back into the night air, unseen but ever-present.

________________________________________

Your father’s burial is a quiet affair. Your mother claims publicly that his death was the result of a terrible attack by a wild animal but you’re not sure if people believe it or not. There are bound to be rumors and gossip swirling around about your father's mysterious and sudden demise in the morning, your family’s name will undoubtedly be in everyone’s filthy mouths as they sling forth accusations and suspicions at you and your mother the same way they did to Beomgyu. You don't miss the irony in that.

They’ll wonder if your mother has killed your father to hide a lurid affair or if you’ve done it because he discovered some terrible secret you’ve been keeping. But those few who have seen his body and helped return it to the earth will know it was neither one of you, because like the sacred bull, what has become of him couldn’t have been done by a mortal hand. They’ll lie down in their homes at night, clutching their families close to their bodies and wrestling with the harrowing knowledge that the darkness is now coming for them and their children.

Your mother stays by your father’s grave all night, weeping and wailing–her cries rattling the hearts of all those who can hear her as if she’s a spirit heralding all the death to come.

Kai tries to stay by your side but you refuse to let him. You’ve seen what you’re up against. None of you stand a chance and you won’t be so selfish as to let it hurt him too. He needs to stay away from you.

But as you lay down for the night, wrapped up in all your furs despite the suffocating heat that refuses to leave you, you selfishly regret keeping him away. You wish he was here with you. He would not have been able to protect you but at least you wouldn’t be alone.

No. That’s not true. You’re not completely alone. It’s here. You can feel its dark presence and yet it toys with you, not making a single move. For hours you lay there staring at a singular spot at the roof of your home, unwilling to let your gaze wander around and confirm your dreadful suspicions. For hours, your body stays as rigid as a dead mouse with eyes just as frozen, waiting for that same suffocating grip to coil around your body and crush the life out of it the way it did to your father.

But it never comes. And slowly the energy drains out of your tense body and your tired eyes can stay open no more, falling down and letting you slip into a dangerous slumber.

That’s when it finally makes its move–when all your defenses are down and you cannot muster enough strength to lift a single finger in your defense, not that you had any delusions of being able to fight it off.

Your mind is sluggish–caught in a state between consciousness and sleep. It can barely process what is happening, just vaguely aware of its presence above you that stifles your breathing, and when your heavy eyes slowly open, your vision dark and bleary, they are met with that unmistakable bright blue gaze. The evil eye. The creature is upon you.

It reaches its hand forward to cover your face, your eyelids growing even more heavy at the touch.

“Please.” Your voice sounds distant and strangled to your own ears but the dark figure doesn’t answer back. It is as silent as death as it coaxes your mind back into darkness.

______________________________

A/N: please leave a message letting me how you're finding the fic so far. feedback is what keeps me going and I am so excited about this fic and wanna know if you're excited about it as well

you could let me know what you think will happen next, what you think the ending will be, who you think she'll end up with or who you want her to end up with, if you think gyu is actually involved or not and what he might be doing. the possibilities are endless lol

#txt smut #dark fic #supernatural au #yandere au #i shouldn't be posting this yet but can't hold back lol #please let me know what you think

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hyprfixate · 21 days ago

Text

magnum opus :: [H.H] x reader

read on AO3

summary: you get a call at 3AM from a number you should've blocked ages ago. you subsequently make three mistakes.

pairing: hwang hyunjin x reader

tropes: exes to lovers, artist!hyunjin, artist x muse, grapheme-color and emotional synesthesia, angst-to-smut, post breakup yearning, hurt-comfort kinda

smut warning: semi drunk sex, dry humping, desperate hyunjin (like, very desperate), begging, biting, pussy eating, slow, needy sex, unprotected sex (use condoms ppl), slightly dubious consent at first, vaginal fingering

content warning: hyunjin has a drinking problem, mentions of past arguments and previous toxic behaviors

word count: 10.9k

author's note: this was supposed to be another plotless smut but I couldn't help myself lol. also i did not edit this. if you see typos no you didn't. enjoy!

A sound penetrates your subconscious, worming its way into your dream until you blink awake, eyes dry and not yet used to the darkness of your room. It takes a second to orient yourself, to recognize that the sound is real and coming from your phone. The digital clock by your charger reads 3:24 AM.

Had you been more awake, you would recognize the ringtone, or would have seen the caller ID. This is mistake number one of the night.

You swipe accept on the call, eyes still blurry and thick with sleep. You clear your throat, which proves useless when your words still come out croaky and garbled.

“Hello?”

“Hi, pretty girl.”

It feels like ice has been doused down your spine. You shoot straight up in bed, the hairs at the nape of your neck standing fully at attention.

You know this voice.

It's an entirely unique voice. A voice splattered with colors and textures you can't begin to comprehend. But even if it weren't, you know it would still be etched in your brain forever. Your hand shakes as you pull the phone from your ear to glance at the contact name.

‼️DO NOT ANSWER (Hyunjin)‼️

Oh fuck.

This has to be a dream.

You hear his voice crackle through the speakers one more time, his words unclear with the distance you created. Hyunjin shouldn't be calling you, and you certainly shouldn't have answered. It would be wise to hang up, to block his number like you thought about doing so many times. Instead, when you hear more crackling as he continues speaking, you hold your breath as you put the phone back to your ear.

This is mistake number two.

“-- you there, love?”

You swallow thickly, willing your mind to wake up faster so you can fully comprehend what is happening. You feel like you're floating. Or drowning.

"I didn't expect you to pick up."

Your heart hammers in your chest.

"Are you okay?" You ask after a few beats of silence. It's the only thing you can think to ask.

You hear a deep hum of contentment. “Yeah. Better now.”

The air in the room suddenly feels too cold. You should hang up. You need to hang up. But your fingers refuse to uncurl from the death grip you have on your phone. “Why… why are you calling me?”

You hear the distant sounds of the city on his end of the line, padded by his breathing. It sounds labored. Manual, like he's reminding himself every so often to inhale and exhale, too busy chasing a fading feeling. You could recognize that specific pattern of his breath anywhere. You close your eyes, letting out a deep sigh.

"Are you drunk?"

"No," he murmurs. "Maybe. I don't know."

That translates to a yes.

You pinch the bridge of your nose with your fingers. This is why you don't answer his calls. This is why you should've blocked him months ago. You feel the tension of the moment fizzle into nothing but annoyance. "It's four in the morning. Why did you call me?"

Hyunjin lets out a soft whine, his breath picking up.

"I miss you."

His words land like a punch to your chest, knocking the wind out of you. A simple string of words in that pitiful, whining tone of his, and you already feel like putty in his hands.

You hate this. You hate him.

You want to scream at him. Tell him that this is bullshit. He's bullshit. That you've been trying so hard to stay away from him. But your heart is pounding so hard that you can feel it in your throat.

"No you don't,” you decide to be civil. “You're just drunk."

"But I know what I'm saying."

The civility only lasts so long. “Oh, fuck off," you breathe. There is no real power behind it, but it's better than nothing. "Don't say stuff like that."

He starts to speak, but a nearby train cuts him off. You think about taking the opportunity to hang up, but as much as you don't want to hear what he says next, you're powerless to stop yourself from listening.

"I missed your voice so much, pretty girl." The laziness of his tongue makes the words sound like something entirely new. "I missed hearing you say my name. Can you do that for me, baby? Can you say my name? Please?"

His words are slurred and heavy. You shouldn't be entertaining this. He won't remember this conversation in the morning, too busy with his extravagant artist lifestyle and the swarms of other girls that want his attention. You'll be a distant memory floating around his hippocampus with nothing to tether to, like an itch he will never find.

"Why?"

He lets out a shaky breath, the undercurrent of a whine coating his tone. "Please, baby." The desperation in his voice fills your chest and makes it squeeze tight. "Say it for me?"

You are weak to his voice, but the distant, angrier part of you refuses to let it affect you. He doesn't get to just call you in the middle of the night and ask you to talk to him. Not when he's had months to do that and hasn't bothered.

"No."

You hear him swallow thickly, a slight shift in his breathing as he lets out a short, humorless laugh. You wait for him to speak again, but you're met with nothing but silence. It stretches long enough that you wonder if he hung up, but then—

"I miss you so much, angel."

Six words.

It's only six words, but they hurt worse than anything else he could've said to you. You don't know if it's because you think he doesn't mean them, or because you hope that he does.

Regardless, emotion swells so quickly in your chest, you feel like you're going to be sick. You can't do this. You can't keep letting him do this to you.

"I have to go," you say finally, voice trembling.

"Don't hang up." He sounds panicked. "Please don't hang up. I need to hear your voice."

Your face feels hot, the back of your nose beginning to burn. You will not let him hear you cry. "No, Hy–” You stop yourself. “I can't do this with you anymore."

"Please, baby. Please. I need you. I can't stop thinking about you. I miss you."

That damned phrase again. Your breath stutters in your chest, words coming out softer than you intend. "You don't mean that."

"I do, pretty girl. I promise."

You shake your head as if he could see you. You wish he could see you through the phone— to see what exactly he's done to you, how he destroyed you. You know he doesn't mean any of this, that they're just the chosen lies from tonight's bottle of vodka.

There's shuffling on the line for a second. Then—

"Can I see you. Please?"

You close your eyes, the tears you tried so hard to fight spilling over and sliding down your face until they make fat plopping noises on your sheets. No. He can't see you. You can't do this with him anymore. You need to hang up. This has to stop.

"Okay."

And this is your final, biggest mistake.

—

You're not sure why, but you don't believe he'll actually show up.

You've played this game with him before, right after the two of you broke up. You remember the anxious anticipation whirling in your stomach while you waited for him one night, and how the first rays of the sunrise curdled it in your stomach. You suppose his way with words was what made him a good artist anyway—there is no surprise there.

So when you hear two raps at your front door, there is some surprise there.

You wipe the tears from your face quickly, running a hand through your hair and praying it isn't as wild as it feels. You glance in the mirror by your front door, giving yourself a once-over to make sure you're presentable enough, but you shake your head and stop yourself. It's not like he hasn't seen you at your worst before.

When you open the door, Hyunjin is standing in front of you, illuminated only by the soft glow of the street lamps on your block. He looks exhausted.

"Hi, angel."

You blink slowly, suddenly regretting every decision that brought you to this moment.

"You're here."

He smiles. It doesn't reach his eyes. "You look tired. Did I wake you up?"

You fight the urge to roll your eyes at his question, stepping aside to let him in. "Yes. It's four in the morning. Obviously you did."

He has the decency to at least look sheepish as he stumbles past you, looking around your apartment with a faraway expression on his face. You can smell the alcohol on him. It makes you incredibly dizzy.

He toes his shoes off and you watch him quietly, something stirring in your chest. He remembers. You didn't have to remind him about the no-shoe rule.

The realization sends a course of emotion through you that you cannot parse, so instead, you choose to focus on shutting and locking the door behind you.

It's been a full six months since Hyunjin has been in your apartment. It may not be that long in the grand scheme of things, but the two of you used to spend almost every waking moment together, especially when you were dating. You had grown accustomed to having him around so much, his absence left an aching hole in your life, your home, your bed.

When you gain the courage to turn around, you see that he's standing at the threshold of your living room. Hyunjin looks like he belongs here, yet somehow he also doesn't. This isn't the same Hyunjin from your final weeks together—the one that you screamed at until you couldn't breathe. This isn't the same Hyunjin that, in the middle of your last fight, pressed himself against the front door, caging you in your own apartment while you cried and begged him to let you leave.

That Hyunjin was different. He had meticulously styled hair and sunglasses that cost more than your rent. He was swimming in his quick rise to success, riding the wave and content to let you drown under him.

You look at present-Hyunjin, who's now peeling off the hood of his oversized sweater. There are no sunglasses. no neatly styled hair. They are replaced by a blonde buzzcut, and watery, red eyes that cannot stay focused.

It would be easy to see him as a stranger, an intrusion, but you can't. It just feels like he's come home.

You're staring for so long, you don't realize until he looks over at you from his awkward stance by the couch.

"Are you gonna come over here?"

You take a few steps toward him, but not too close. You are a flame and he is a gas leak. You will both explode on contact.

You choose, instead, to play offense. "What are you doing here?"

He looks around your living room, fingers twitching like they're begging for something to hold. He won't meet your gaze. After a bit, he lets out a deep exhale.

"I don't know."

"Why did you call me?"

"I don't know."

"Do you know anything?”

He glances at you, his already watery eyes looking dejected and tearful, and your heart stutters in your chest. You wish you could hold steady to your hate for him. Sometimes it slips through your fingers like sand, leaving you scrambling to catch the pieces. Other times it's solid as glass. You wish it was always like that. You want to shove it in his face and let him suffocate under the weight of it.

But that look. The tears, the pain. You recognize it. It's a mirror of the same look you gave him when he broke up with you: heartbreak, rejection, confusion.

You can't do this. You're going to cry. Or pass out. He shouldn't have come.

You open your mouth to say just that when he turns fully toward you, closing the gap a bit more. He's always towered over you– he's six feet tall and you're barely 5’1 on a good day– yet you find the intrusion surprising for a moment. You trail your sight all the way up to gaze into those red, unfocused eyes.

"You never say my name anymore," he says, the slur in his speech making a subtle appearance. He's wobbly on his feet. "Never on the phone, and not once since I've been here. Why?"

The question takes you by surprise. "What?"

"My name," he presses. He takes a step toward you, his presence pushing you one step back. "Why don't you say it anymore?"

You take another step back as he advances. You're not scared of him, you never could be, but the closer he gets the faster your heart beats. He's staring at you with an intensity you've never seen before, not even when you were together.

"I don't know," you echo. The lie is bitter in your mouth.

"Yes you do." He looks at you with those unfocused eyes, hurt flashing across his features. He takes another step. "You do know. You used to say it all the time, like my name was..." He trails off, his fingers twitching at his sides again, like he's trying to grasp something invisible. "Like it was yours."

You take a final step back, your spine hitting the wall. Hyunjin doesn't stop until he's a single step away from you, his chest so close to yours that you have to tilt your head back to look at him.

"Don't,” you warn.

"Say it," he pleads. His hands are shaking, and you're beginning to recognize that it's not the effects of the alcohol, but a raw desperation. He's literally shaking with need. "Please. Just once."

You exhale slowly through your nose, willing your anger to come to the forefront. You feel the start of it in your bones, boiling hot and ready to lash out.“Why would I say it now? You only listened when it was convenient for you.”

His brow furrows, confusion warring with the lingering haze of alcohol. "What are you talking about?"

The words feel hot like bile in your stomach, the heat of your anger boiling everything in you. He's too close. You're getting too angry. You should stop now, kick him out and block his number.

But Hyunjin closes the gap, his shaking hand reaching to cup your face. He barely connects with your skin before you feel the explosion.

"Don't touch me," you bark, jerking away from his hand. The hurt that flashes across his face only fuels your anger more. "You don't get to do this. You don't get to-- to come here, drunk and desperate, pretending like you care about what my voice means to you–"

"I do care," he insists, his voice cracking. "I've always—"

"No, you don't," The words tear from your throat, sharp and raw. You put both hands on his chest and shove him away from you with all of your strength. He stumbles back, but he's still not far enough.

"You stopped caring the minute that painting made you famous. The minute everyone wanted to know about the hot new painter with synesthesia and raw talent.”

It’s the first time you've said the words out loud. They taste like acid on your lips, and you hate that, but not more than how much you hate the way your eyes burn with tears.

You let the weight of your words settle between the two of you like a boulder in the ocean. You watch as Hyunjin grimaces, and internal war showing on his face before he lets out a deep breath, dragging his hands down his face and turning to take several steps away from you.

You don't want to feel bad for him. He deserves this. He deserves every ounce of pain you're feeling.

You remember that conversation you had over a year ago, tangled in his messy sheets with your head on his bare chest. Your relationship was still new, still tender. The honeymoon phase seemed neverending.

As you laid there, his heartbeat was, at first, a steady pulse against your ear, but the longer you two basked in the afterglow, the faster it got.

You remember sitting up after a minute, hands cupping his face in concern. "What is it, Hyun?"

"I... I have something to tell you," he murmured.

He told you about his synesthesia, how it was his inspiration for pursuing art, but also an insecurity he struggled to coexist with. You listened to him, comforted him, encouraged him, loved him. Told him how amazing he was and how every little quirk of his just made him better.

A few months later, he was kissing you awake and saying he had a surprise for you. When you walked into his living room, you saw the most gorgeous painting you'd ever seen-- a canvas segmented into 4 sections, each section similar in their subject but distinct in composition.

"It's, uh. It's you," he explained, ears burning red at the tips. "Not a portrait of you, but this is how it looks when you say my name. When you're sleepy, when you're laughing, when you're upset with me, and when you... when we--"

He didn't need to finish his sentence. You knew.

It was you that encouraged him to submit it to a contest a couple weeks after that. It was you who picked out his outfit for his first gallery showing. It was you who said his name over and over the night after while he showed you just how he got the inspiration for that last panel.

And yet.

"You cast me aside."

You wipe at the tears that have traitorously slipped from your eyes. "I was behind you through all of that, and then you let the sounds of the attention you got become louder than me. I didn't mean anything to you anymore."

Silence stretches between you like a chasm. Hyunjin's shoulders rise and fall with each labored breath, his back still turned to you. The air in the apartment feels suffocating, thick with everything that's been said and has yet to be said.

You don't even know why you're doing this, why you're bothering to explain anything to him when he's drunk. It'll be gone from his mind in the morning, and then what will have been the point?

You close your eyes and let your head thud against the wall. “Look. You should–”

"I never meant to make you feel invisible," he says.

You take a steadying breath.

He carries on, his voice rough in the silence. "It was intoxicating. The praise, the intrigue, the attention-- I was seeing so many colors and shapes I'd never seen before. I'd never had so many people find it– find me interesting. Or worth something.

Your voice is small. “You had me.”

He turns back to you. There are tears streaked on his face, and the raw vulnerability in his eyes makes your heart twist in your chest. “I know. But I got lost in it– in the attention. I was drowning in so many colors that meant nothing because they weren't yours. But I didn't realize that until you weren't around anymore."

You want to stay angry. You want to hold onto the hurt that's kept you safe these past months. But seeing him like this— almost as broken as you'd been feeling —cracks something open inside of you.

"Do you know what the worst part is?” At his silence, you continue. “I was, and still am, so proud of you.” Your voice is quieter now, more tired than angry. "Even when it hurt, even when it felt like you used me. I was proud."

Hyunjin opens his mouth to say something, but the words die on his lips. You watch him swallow, hard, the deliberate bob of his Adam's apple catching your gaze. In everything he does, he looks like art. It's maddening.

He clears his throat, finally finding his voice. "Can I... can I show you something?"

You narrow your eyes at him, confused. "What?"

He fidgets in his spot for a second before reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone. After a moment of scrolling, he turns the screen toward you. It's a photo of a canvas—clearly a work in progress, layers of color bleeding into each other in abstract patterns.

"I've been trying to paint again," he says softly. "Ever since we broke up. But nothing's been working. The colors are wrong. Dead."

He flicks to the next picture. It's a similarly unfinished painting. "It gets easier to ignore how wrong they look after a few shots. Sometimes they move around like before. But it never lasts, because it's not you.”

The confession hangs in the air between the two of you. Unlike the heaviness of your earlier words, Hyunjin's float above you two like a balloon, hoisting the last of your irritation away with it. You see the truth of his words in the muddy browns and grays that dominate the canvas, so different from the vibrant explosions of his earlier work. It feels, painfully, like he's lost a piece of his soul.

You can't look at it anymore. You glance up at him instead.

He looks more nervous now than he did when you opened the door. It reminds you of your first ever date, and how he tried to hide his nerves with a devastating smile and charm. The memory chips at a hardened part of your heart.

You've missed him.

You've been so, so tired of missing him.

"Why did you come here,” you breathe. The question is softer this time. More genuine.

He puts his phone back in his pocket, gaze locked on you. Beneath the haze of whatever buzz he still has, you see a glimpse of your Hyunjin, the one who made you laugh so he could paint the bright yellow rays of sunshine that exploded in his vision. The one who left you sketches of your sleeping form if he had to leave before you woke up.

The one who thought the smallest pieces of you were his magnum opus.

Perhaps that's why, when he takes a step closer, you don't move away this time.

"Because I'm selfish," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "Because I miss you. Because I need to see it again– to feel it. Even if it's the last time."

He takes another step, the height of him caging you against the wall. His eyes search yours, desperate and hungry. "Please, angel. I am begging you. Say my name. Let me see it again."

The request vibrates through you, from the tips of your ears down to your toes. It's maddening how easily he can awaken something you've tried so hard to bury.

You know this is dangerous territory—that giving in now could shatter you all over again.

But his proximity is intoxicating, the familiar scent of him filling your senses. Your body remembers what your mind wants to forget—the way he used to worship you, the way your voice could bring him to his knees in more ways than one.

"This doesn't fix anything," you whisper, even as you feel yourself weakening.

"I know," he breathes, close enough now that you can feel the heat radiating from his body, can smell the lingering alcohol on him. "But God, I miss you. I miss the way you light up my world."

Your back presses against the wall as he crowds into your space, not touching, but close enough that the air between you crackles with tension. He puts his hands on either side of your head, caging you in so that all you can look at is him. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide with need and something deeper, more desperate.

"Say it, pretty girl."

You let his voice be the final push over the edge.

"Hyunjin," you breathe, and you watch as his entire body shudders in response.

His eyes flutter shut, plush lips parting slightly as a soft moan slips out. He's trembling now, hands twitching on the wall near your head as though still fighting the urge to touch you. "Again."

"Hyunjin," you repeat. Your voice is stronger now. Your heart is racing, stomach twisting with nerves and desire. It's been so long since you've said his name like this, and the effect it has on him is beyond intoxicating.

He whimpers, leaning in closer until his forehead rests against yours. "Fuck, I missed that," he murmurs. His breath is hot against your skin. You feel the brush of his low cut hair against your forehead. "I've never seen it like this before. Please, baby. Again. I need more."

The desperation in his voice makes you weak, and you find yourself sliding your hands up, up, up, until your fingers curl into his fuzz, tugging gently at the wisps of hair at the base of his skull. The reaction is immediate—Hyunjin grunts, low and guttural, his hips bucking forward against yours.

"Again," he pants. "Please. Please."

You drag your nails along his scalp, pulling another groan from deep within. You brush your noses together.

"My Hyunjin," you whisper, right against his lips.

He surges forward, crushing his mouth to yours in a hot, bruising kiss. You cling to him, fingers digging into his shoulders as he licks into your mouth. It's wet, messy, and desperate-- a clash of teeth and tongue that leaves you both breathless. You can't remember the last time anyone has kissed you this hard, this passionately—like he's trying to crawl inside you and never come back out.

He tastes like vodka and cheap beer, but underneath that is something that is so innately Hyunjin that you feel yourself melting, giving in to his touch and his mouth and his greedy hands. He shifts, slotting a thigh between your legs and flexing up into you. It pulls a moan from your throat that he swallows hungrily.

"Can I touch you?" He breathes his words right into your mouth.

You don’t hesitate. "Yes. Hyun, please."

His hands drop from the wall to the curve of your waist, sliding down until he has a bruising grip on your hips. His movements aren't as clumsy as you expect, but there's a hesitancy and nervousness that makes everything more enticing.

He uses his grip on your hips to grind you against his thigh. His movements are slow, deliberate. Your bodies are pressed flush together, his mouth still on yours, kissing you like you're the only thing keeping him on this plane of existence.

He bites down on your bottom lip and you whine his name right into his mouth. He hisses out a strangled sound before he breaks away, trailing hot kisses down your jaw, the column of your throat, and sucking a bruise into the soft, sensitive skin behind your ear. You're a mess of moans and whines and incoherent, half-finished sentences.

"God, you sound so fucking good," he murmurs into your neck. "Missed that too. Missed how pretty you sound for me.” He nips at your earlobe. “C'mon. Sing for me, angel."

He presses his thigh up into you more, the friction sending a jolt of electricity up your spine. You feel the length of him, hard heavy and hot, through his sweatpants. You dig your nails into his shoulders, a shuddering breath escaping you.

"Oh. Fuck, Hyunjin."

His hips buck involuntarily, a grunt slipping from him. He kisses his way back to your mouth. "That's it, my love. That's it."

"Hyunie." You're panting into his mouth now, words coming out in broken gasps. It's overwhelming, all the sensations– his hands, his mouth, his thigh. You try to hold back your next words, but the building pressure in your stomach disintegrates the barriers in your brain. They come pouring out before you can stop yourself.

"I missed you so much.”

The confession seems to do something to him. He curses and ruts up against your leg, chasing the contact, the friction. You're both breathing heavily, the space between you nonexistent, moving with a practiced ease that's only born from being familiar with each other. He knows your body like he knows art, like it's a medium for him to mold and shape into whatever he wants.

"Wanna paint you," he huffs out when you moan again. He drags his teeth along the length of your throat. "Want you to see the colors you make for me."

“Tell me.” You drag your nails along the nape of his neck. “What does it look like?”

He moves his thigh up, the sharp movement making you gasp and drop your head onto his shoulder.

"That," he pants, "That one is white. Soft on the edges like feathers. It feels like cotton in my ears."

He sinks his teeth into your shoulder, his hips rutting against you with urgency. You can't help the moan that slips past your lips, and you swear his grip tightens, his breath hitching.

"Fuck," he breathes. "And that-- that one is hot. It's like rich red. Like the sun. It tastes sweet. Tastes like you.”

You whine into his neck, the combination of his words and the movement of his thigh making the heat coil tightly in your core. You're so close, right at the edge of your orgasm. You know you should stop-- that this is a dangerous line you're crossing-- but your body aches for him in a way it never will for anyone else.

"Come on. Cum for me, angel.” His voice is ragged, raw. "I wanna see it. Let me see it, please."

And, well, you have never been able to deny him anything.

You tip over the edge, pleasure shooting through your body like a spark. Your orgasm hits you so hard that your vision goes white around the edges, a broken cry of his name spilling from your lips.

Hyunjin groans and ruts against you harder, faster. "Fuck, yes, that's it. Just like that, baby."

He kisses you again, swallowing up every noise you make while he lets you grind your way through the aftershocks. His hands roam their way around your body, his nimble fingers slipping under your shirt to trace patterns on your skin.

You come down slowly, breathing hard into his mouth. When he's sure you've ridden out the last of your orgasm, he pulls back, eyes glassy and still a bit unfocused. His gaze is locked on yours as he slides his hands down your body, slipping a hand into the waistband of your shorts and moving to cup your ass in both hands.

Some of your wits return to you. You find the hairs at the nape of his neck again, dragging your nails against him gently. "Hyun," you breathe. "Hyun, you're drunk. We should stop."

"No," he whines. There's no aggression in his movements, just pure want. He tugs at your ass again, pressing his hips into yours. "Please, baby. I need to feel you."

He leans forward again, kissing down your jaw to your neck. The brush of his buzzcut against your face makes you shiver, but you don't pull away. Instead, you press a kiss to his temple, then another, and another, until you're kissing the shell of his ear.

"You'll change your mind in the morning," you murmur. The thought doesn't sting like you thought it would. It just seems like a fact. “Let's stop now.”

It takes some effort, but you manage to gently untangle yourself from him. You put a hand on his chest, not exactly pushing him but enough to signal a need for distance between you. He relents easily, stepping back and giving you space to breathe.

You take the opportunity to stare at him for a moment, taking in the sight of him: frazzled hair, blown-out pupils, kiss-swollen lips, and an erection straining painfully against his sweatpants. It's a sight that has your body singing for him all over again.

He looks lost. Desperate. Like you're the only thing keeping him together. Yesterday, you would balk at the thought of that, but now it makes your heart soften in your chest. You try to remember a time when you weren't weak for this man and come up short.

You sigh and reach out, resting your hand on his arm, thumb rubbing soothing circles into the skin. "Come on, Hyunie," you murmur. "You obviously can't go home. Let's get you to bed."

He follows you down the hallway to your bedroom like a lost puppy, fingers loosely tangled with yours. When you flick on the bedside lamp, the soft glow illuminates the space that used to be so familiar to him. He stands there, awkward, until you turn down the comforter and sit on the edge of the bed, patting the spot next to you.

"Do you want me to sleep here?" he asks, his voice small.

You nod. "I'll take the couch."

His hand tightens around yours immediately. "No." His voice is small, fragile. "Stay. Please."

You close your eyes, summoning strength from somewhere deep inside you. "Hyunjin, I don't think—"

"I won't touch you," he rushes to say, desperation creeping back into his tone. "I promise. I just... I can't be alone right now. Please don't make me be alone."

The plea strikes something painful in your chest. You've spent months trying to convince yourself that Hyunjin was fine without you—thriving, even. That he'd moved on to bigger, better things. But the man standing before you now, with bloodshot eyes and trembling hands, is far from fine.

"Okay," you relent, because you're weak and tired and overwhelmed from the events of tonight.

When he slides under the blanket, there's a safe distance between you. Not as vast as it's been the past six months, but a tangible space nonetheless. You lie there on your side, staring at him, wondering if this is what it feels like to drown. He stares back at you, and you watch the redness of his eyes dissipate, his body relaxing under the weight of your gaze. You can't even find it in you to be angry, but you try. You really do.

He looks at you with those glassy eyes and a soft smile. "You're so beautiful," he whispers.

You feel the anger slip through your fingers.

"You're drunk," you whisper back.

"I know."

You're not sure who moves first, but you find yourself closing the distance between you, your head tucked under his chin and your arm slung over his torso. He's warm and solid beneath you, and you find yourself melting into his embrace.

He wraps his arms around you, holding you close, and you can hear the steady beat of his heart in his chest. You close your eyes, focusing on the rhythm, letting it lull you to sleep.

"Goodnight, pretty girl," he murmurs.

You're asleep before you can respond.

—

Sunlight filters through your curtains, painting warm stripes across your face. You stir, your consciousness returning to you in fragmented pieces. The first thing you register is the coolness of the sheets next to you. The second is the ache in your chest.

You open your eyes, staring at the empty space where Hyunjin had been.

Had.

He's gone.

The pillow still bears the impression of his head, the ghost of his presence lingering in the sheets in the form of his expensive cologne. You reach out, rubbing a bit of the sheet between your fingers, finding it cold to the touch.

Of course he left. What were you expecting?

You're not sure how long you lie there, staring at the ceiling, but it's long enough for the tears to come. They slip down the sides of your face and into your hair, leaving wet stains on the pillow as everything from last night comes back to you: the desperation of his voice on the phone, the feeling of his body pressed against yours, his breath hot on your neck as he begged and pleaded for you to bathe his world in color again. It all felt real, so urgent in the midnight hour.

But morning has a wicked way of washing everything clean, the sober light revealing every mistake in detail.

You wish you could be angry. You wish you could feel anything other than the pain that's splitting your chest in two. You wish you could hate him.

You press the heels of your palms against your eyes in an attempt to stall the tears before they get worse. This is exactly why you should've blocked him, why you shouldn't have let him in or slept beside him like nothing changed between the two of you.

"Stupid," You murmur. "I'm so fucking stupid."

A familiar weight settles in your gut, the same one your carried for weeks when he first left-- a noxious mix of anger, embarrassment, and grief. You thought you'd finally shed it, but here it is again, through no fault but your own.

You drop your hands from your face and glance at the clock, which tells you it's a bit past 11am. He's back at his fancy apartment by now, already forgetting the things he whispered in your skin. You let out a humorless snort, imagining that he's painting, finally able to put colors together properly after using you for inspiration.

You're about to drag your pity party to the kitchen when you hear it-- the faint squeak of your bathroom sink turning on.

Your eyes snap in that direction instantly. For a moment, you don’t hear anything else. Then–

Splashing. Someone is washing their face.

He stayed.

You freeze, heart suddenly pounding against your chest. You can hear the water continuing to slosh around for a second, then it shuts off.

More silence, just for a second, then the unmistakable padding of feet on tile.

The en suite door swings open. Hyunjin materializes in the door frame wearing the same clothes from last night. His hair catches the morning light like a halo and his face is freshly washed. His eyes are no longer glassy, even though they're rimmed with the telltale shadows of a hangover. When he sees you sitting up in bed, he pauses, hovering in the doorway as though he's unsure if he's still allowed in.

The two of you hold eye contact for a moment. It feels like forever, but you know it can't be more than a second or two. It doesn't matter how long, really. It's still too long. Long enough to make the ache inside you bloom until your entire chest is suffocating under its weight. Long enough to realize how much you still want him and need to keep him in this space that was once yours and his. Long enough to want to reach out across time and space and mold his edges into something that belongs solely to you—that only you can recognize. Something different and yet exactly the same.

"Hi," he says.

The breath is knocked out of you all at once.

"You're still here," you breathe. You feel a new wave of tears behind your eyes. You think it might be from relief.

Something flashes across his face quickly-- hurt, maybe, or understanding. "Yeah." His voice is soft. "I told you I wouldn't leave again."

Did he say that? You don't remember. You can't exactly think over the pounding of your heart in your ears.

The words hang in the air anyway, a fragile bridge stretching across the space between you. It feels precarious, like one wrong move will send all of it crashing down. You scan his face for any hint of deception, for a flicker of the old Hyunjin that prioritized his rising fame over you. But all you find is a raw sincerity that mirrors the ache in your own chest.

He takes a hesitant step into the room, then another, like he's waiting for you to change your mind and kick him out. You don't. You just sit there, heart thrumming against your ribs, watching as he drifts closer until he's standing at edge of the bed. There's barely any space separating you two, yet everything still feels so far away.

"Last night," he starts. He clears his throat, fighting against the tremble in his voice and hands. "It was a mess. I was a mess, I know."

You wait, unable to tear your gaze away from him.

"But even in the middle of all of that... I need you to know I meant it. Every word, angel. I still do."

Something swells inside of you, the pain making way for something soft and tender. It's overwhelming, but the good kind. The kind that makes you feel light and free.

"Do you?" Your voice is so quiet, you're not sure if he hears you. But he does, because his gaze softens, eyes never leaving yours.

Hyunjin lowers himself to the ground, situating himself on his knees so the two of you are eye level. He reaches a hand out, his long, slender fingers making their way across the space, gently cupping the curve of your jaw. You close your eyes, holding your breath while you bask in the way his skin makes contact with yours. The air around you feels like it might come alive. As you lean into the warmth of his palm, the ache in your chest begins to fade bit by bit.

"Yeah. I do," he whispers. His voice is thick.

There are a million things you want to say, yet the only thing you can force out is: "Why?"

He brushes his thumb along the rise of your cheekbone, the gesture tender and familiar. It's almost like he never left, like no time has passed between the two of you. He opens his mouth to answer, then closes it, like the words are getting stuck in his throat.

"Can I show you?"

The question sends a shiver down your spine. You swallow and nod.

His eyes flicker down to your lips, the hunger evident in his gaze. He leans forward, pressing his forehead against yours and breathing you in. His breath tickles your nose, the scent of your toothpaste mixing with the smell of his sweater.

"Are you sure?" he whispers.

You answer him by closing the gap.

Unlike the kiss from last night, this one is slow, measured. You pour everything you've wanted to say since he left into it, and he returns it tenfold. He kisses you with a passion that threatens to consume, his grip on your face tightening ever so slightly, tongue sweeping out to lick at your bottom lip. You part for him immediately, the taste of him igniting the dormant fire inside you.

Hyunjin kisses you like a starving man. You give him everything he needs, letting him map your mouth with his tongue, moaning into the heat of his kiss. You feel it everywhere, the heat coiling low in your belly and spreading throughout your limbs. It feels like a revelation, and the way his grip tightens tells you that he feels it too.

"Say it, please baby," he breathes. The desperation from last night is creeping back in. His hand leaves your cheek, trailing down the length of your neck to your collarbone. He curls his hand into the neck of your shirt and tugs it down to expose your skin, dipping down to wash his tongue across your collarbones. You're already shaking before he even nips at your skin.

"Hyunjin," you moan. The sound makes him grunt against you, low and needy.

His mouth is on yours again, bruising, like he wants to drown in the taste of you. You sink your fingers into his hair, pulling gently and feeling his body shudder in response. He adjusts his positions on his knees, tugging you closer to him so your hips are flush against his chest. The heat of his feverish skin burns you through the thin fabric of your night clothes.

"Again, angel," he pleads, mouthing his way over your shirt, down to your breasts, hands trailing up your bare thighs and gripping hard. You let out a little whimper, head falling back as you thread your fingers in the wisps of his hair, holding on for dear life. He doesn't stop. The mixture of his mouth and his hands has your mind hazy and unfocused.

"Hyunjin. Hyun, please." You feel him shudder at that, his mouth kissing lower, lower, lower. When he reaches the hem of your shit, he grips it in his teeth and pulls it up, tongue darting out to run a stripe across your belly button. You pant and squirm, your hands gripping his shoulders tightly, nails digging into his skin through his sweatshirt.

He nips at your stomach and you cry out his name, the sound breaking through the space like a firecracker. Hyunjin's hips buck up against the bed as his mouth finds your hip bone, sinking his teeth into the tender skin. Your back arches, legs clamping around his torso. His grip is bruising and you really hope he leaves a mark, that there are traces of him on you long after you're finished. You want him to burn himself into your skin so you never forget this again.

He's pressing sloppy kisses over the skin he's just bitten, murmuring a mixture of words you can't decipher. The sound is muffled against your skin, but you don't miss the way he says "angel" over and over again, the way his lips form your name against your body like it's a prayer, and he is the sole saint who has come to worship at your altar.

He shifts his mouth back to the waistband of your shorts, his big, blown out eyes fluttering open to stare at you in question. The look you give him is all he needs to peel off the fabric, slowly, teasingly, tossing them away and letting his fingers trail the newly exposed skin. His touch is hot on your legs, trailing up and down until you're panting for him.

"So perfect for me, pretty girl," he praises, his lips ghosting over your hips. Your brain feels like mush, like his praise is the only thing that exists anymore. You watch his long, perfect fingers slide up the expanse of your thigh until he reaches your heat, pushing your lips apart to reveal your aching cunt to him. His touch is so featherlight that it has your hips bucking up, trying to get more.

"Be still, love." He presses a kiss to your clit. "Be still for me. Let me worship you, yeah? Can you do that?"

You whine, desperately trying to remain still, to let him explore every inch of your body with his perfect hands, to let him touch and tease you like he needs to.

"That's it, baby," he breathes. His fingers run along the wetness of your cunt. "Look at you. So fucking wet for me, my angel."

He slips his middle finger in with ease, sliding all the way to his knuckle. You barely have a second to adjust to the feeling before he dives down, plump lips wrapping around your clit and sucking hard. It sends a jolt of pleasure up your spine so sharp, you can't help the half scream that falls from your lips, your hand shooting out to grab onto his head. He moans in response, letting you grind yourself up into his face. He laps at you like a man possessed, fingers curling deep inside you to press against that one spot he's found countless times before.

The room fills with the wet sounds of your cunt against his eager tongue. His hair is soft under your hand, a contrast to how hard he's fucking his fingers into you. They move with urgency and precision. Each thrust has you panting his name, and in response his moans vibrate through your cunt.

He moves his free hand to grab the one that's gripping his hair and squeezes, fingers curling between yours in a silent show of gratitude for letting him touch you, letting him drown himself in you.

The combination of his touch and the sounds he's making has your stomach coiling, tight like a spring, and your release comes quick and sharp. Your orgasm crashes into you like a wave, and you call out his name, louder than anything he's ever heard from you before, so loud your voice bounces off the walls. He works you through it, licking up all the wetness that's pouring from you, groaning and growling like a starving man. He slips in a third finger to fuck you through the last of your high and the stretch is so good, so perfect.

His grip on your hand is the only thing that keeps you grounded as the last of the pleasure courses through you, leaving you shaking and trembling against his face. Hyunjin keeps his eyes on you the entire time, watching you like a predator watches prey, pupils blown so wide only a sliver of dark brown peeks out at you. He only pulls away once you stop shuddering, dragging his fingers out of you with a loud, wet noise, slipping them straight into his mouth.

The sight of his plush, pink lips wrapped around those perfect fingers makes you whine and squirm with want, even though you've just been thoroughly fucked out. Hyunjin crawls his way back up your body and kisses you deeply. His lips are wet with you, and he fucks his tongue into your mouth so you can taste yourself. You find yourself gripping at the soft hairs on the back of his neck again in an attempt to press him closer. He pulls away slightly to trail sloppy, open mouthed kisses down your jaw, teeth dragging across the hot skin.

"You drive me crazy, pretty girl," he pants. He sucks a bruise into the junction where your throat meets your shoulder. "Every noise you make, it sizzles in my eyes like fire. I see you everywhere."

You drag your nails down his neck and he groans into you. You can feel the impossibly hard length of him pressing against your thigh through his sweatpants. He ruts against your body lazily, his movements sluggish. The post orgasm haze still hangs over your body like a heavy fog, slowing everything down to a sluggish, sensual pace. It's hypnotic and delicious, the feeling of his hardness dragging along your thigh while he peppers kisses along your skin. You know this dance, your bodies know the steps so well it feels like your back at the very beginning again, like no time has passed at all between the two of you.

"Let me have you, please." His voice is tight. His desperation is bleeding into everything, tinging the air between you like an intoxicating drug. It makes your head spin and your skin tingle. He shifts his position so his hips are rutting into yours now, slow, deliberate, and grinding right down into you. You're so wet for him still that there's no resistance in his movements. With your eyes fluttering from the sensation, you drag your fingers across the expanse of his broad shoulders and then down to the dip in his spine, trailing your fingertips up under his sweatshirt to drag across his hot skin. It pulls a shaky whine out of him.

"God, please angel." His cock throbs against you. "I'll make it good for you, so fucking good. Just please let me have you, please."

You tug at his sweater until he relents, breaking away to yank it up over his head, tossing it somewhere in the room. You take the opportunity to look at his chest, which is flushed with color and heaving with want. His lips are parted as he tries to catch his breath, lust-blown eyes staring down at you like you hold all of the secrets to his universe. He's still getting harder in his pants, the fabric stretching taut over his cock, the shape of his length visible beneath it. The sight alone makes you dizzy, and the wetness that has been slowly building inside you reaches a crescendo, your cunt pulsing at the sight before you.

Your hand drifts down between your legs. Your fingers slide easily over the wetness that's gathered there from the pleasure Hyunjin has been so dutifully dishing out to you, and you don't even think about what you're doing. Hyunjin watches, eyes glassy as you dip two fingers in the wet mess he's made of your cunt. You slide them back up to your clit and moan, hips twitching into your own touch. His lips part a fraction, a breathy gasp spilling from him. He looks so painfully hungry that the thought of denying him crosses your mind for the briefest of moments. The thought disappears the second he opens his mouth.

"Baby, please, I need it." He shifts on his knees, squirming and aching for you. You almost don't recognize his voice— it's so raspy and tight with need, words stumbling out of him with no hesitation, no thought. It makes your skin hot all over again. You circle your fingers around your clit as you watch him watch you, his chest heaving in tandem with the movements of your fingers.

Then he makes the prettiest little whine you've ever heard in your entire life.

The sound alone is enough to make you remove your hand and offer your wet fingers to him, his mouth falling open obediently to welcome them in. He swirls his tongue around your fingertips, lapping up any of the wetness he's left on you. He groans and shudders, eyes fluttering shut as he sucks and licks and hums around your fingers. Your brain feels like static and your thighs squeeze together to try and ease the ache inside you.

"Fuck, Hyunjin," you moan out, watching him suck your fingers clean. You try desperately to focus on keeping your hips still, the friction from your bodies moving together making you want to chase your pleasure again.

He moans around your fingers before pulling back, catching the hand you had been using to play with your clit and pulling it up to place a gentle kiss on your palm. He keeps eye contact the entire time, looking at you from under those thick lashes and his hooded eyes. His lips part just enough for the tip of his tongue to lick at your skin, his fingers still wrapped tightly around your wrist. It makes your stomach drop. He has you under a spell and he doesn't even need to try.

He nips at your fingertips once more before speaking again, his voice low. "You make it so impossible to see anything other than you," he says, breathless. "Everywhere I turn, everything I see, there you are."

He shifts again, his body moving downwards and slotting itself between your thighs. He uses his free hand to wrestle himself out of his sweatpants and boxers, leaving them to hang low on his hips, cock finally free from their confines and bobbing heavily in the cool air. A shudder runs through him and you can tell it's both from the chill and the feeling of relief that comes from the sudden freedom. Your eyes linger on the head, leaking so prettily for you that it has your cunt squeezing around nothing again.

The hand holding your wrist pushes gently until it has you pinned above your head on the bed, the grip loose enough to not hurt you but strong enough to hold you in place. He reaches down to finally wrap his free hand around himself, stroking the length of his cock as he lets his eyes wander all over your body. His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip, and you're transfixed by the way he lets it run along the swell of his mouth. He's such a pretty, pretty picture like this.

You think he might say something again, but the only sound that fills the space is his soft pants and moans. His strokes on himself once, the slick, wet noises making your brain go fuzzy all over again. Then he stops, leaning forward so he's hovering above you, the tip of his nose mere centimeters from yours. His lips brush against your mouth and his fingers twitch around your wrist, like he wants to let go but can't bear to.

You tilt your chin up to catch his lips, a soft whine bubbling in your throat. Want simmers under your skin so badly that you're a shaking, trembling mess under him. He coos at you in the kiss, and you feel him shift over you, lining himself up with your entrance. He rubs the head of his cock against your slit, gathering the wetness that has dripped out of your pulsing cunt and onto the sheets, using it as lubrication for the tip of his cock to catch on your entrance. Your hips twitch upwards involuntarily, making him break the kiss with a gasp, and you both look down to watch as pushes the head of his cock into you.

"Shit," he whines. It comes out like a hiss, his eyes slipping closed. The feeling of your body welcoming him home has a shudder running up his spine. He releases your hand and uses his elbows to hold himself up over you, fingers burying themselves in the sheets surrounding your head. The tips of his ears are dusted pink, and his mouth is slack as he lets himself be enveloped by the heat of your body. He rests his head in the crook of your neck.

He feels impossibly large inside of you. It has been so long since you've had him this close, it's almost like you forgot how good he can fill you. He shifts and pushes himself a bit further in and you can't help the whimper that tumbles from your mouth. The stretch is so deliciously good that your hips twitch again, body instinctively trying to grind itself onto his length to get him right where you need him. He curses above you again and his grip in the sheets tighten as he nips at your throat.

"Angel," he chokes out. His breath feels boiling hot against your skin. "Please don't move. Not yet, baby. You feel too fucking good."

His voice is strained, tight in his chest like he's barely holding himself back from pounding into you like his body so obviously wants to. The feeling of being stretched by him has you quivering, cunt pulsing around the intrusion. It feels like it takes him forever, but he finally manages to fully slide into you, letting his hips press against yours so you can take the time to adjust to the fullness. His name is a mantra on your lips, the only coherent word your brain is able to conjure right now. He kisses your neck to calm you down, nuzzles his nose against you, licks at the tender skin that has a pulse beating rapidly underneath it.

"So tight, angel," he grunts. His teeth dig into the skin of your neck, sucking another bruise into your skin. "So fucking tight for me."

Your nails are digging into his back now, scratching angry red lines down his shoulder blades as you struggle to breathe beneath him. It feels so good, the way his weight pushes into you and lets you feel every twitch and pulse of his body, lets you feel him shake and quiver. He slides back a bit before pushing into you again, his entire body shaking with the effort it's taking for him to maintain this languid pace. His forehead is pressed against your skin still and his breath comes out hot and shaky as he fucks himself into you again and again, slow and shallow.

The drag of his cock has your toes curling. Your hands slide from his back to his shoulder, down to his biceps, fingers digging into the skin to leave crescents that you can't bring yourself to feel bad about. The heat is pooling in your stomach again, making the feeling in your toes and fingertips start to fizzle away. All that's left is you and Hyunjin. The artist and his muse.

"Hyunie," you breathe. "Hyun."

"I know baby," he grunts. You can feel the drag of his lips on you, leaving kisses against your feverishly hot skin. "I know. I'm here, I'm here."

He picks up the pace then, hips snapping against you to get his cock as deep as it'll go. Your brain has become static, aware of nothing more than the sound of skin slapping against skin, of the wet noises coming from where Hyunjin has returned to his home inside you. You arch your body into his hold and he slips his hand into the curve of your back, pressing you close so that every thrust brings him as close to your heart as he can get.

When he pounds into you particularly hard and you flutter around him, he grunts, sitting up and on his heels to gain leverage to piston into you deep.

"So fucking perfect," he groans. He reaches down to thumb at your clit, circling it and grinding it down in time with his thrusts. You whine his name and buck against his hand as his thrusts get harder and faster in response. It has the coil in your belly winding tighter, so tight your body feels rigid against the bed. "Gonna show me that rainbow, right baby? Be good and come for me, yeah?"

You're already nodding frantically, words completely failing you. The sound of your skin meeting is loud, and your own moans are a chorus that's getting lost in his groans, in his pretty little whimpers of your name. It's all too much— you can barely catch your breath.

His hand that isn't playing with your clit finds one of yours and brings it to your stomach, pushing your palm into the skin below your belly button. When you feel it—the subtle bump from the tip of his cock, pressing against his fingers and into the flat of your stomach—you moan and dig your nails into the back of his hand.

"Fuck," he grits. "You like that angel? You like feeling full of me?"

A distant pulsing of your clit is the only warning you get before your orgasm hits you hard. You scream Hyunjin's name, nails digging into his skin for something to tether to. Your orgasm washes over you like an electric current, shooting up your spine and down to your toes. It whites your vision out, each pulse of Hyunjin's thrust translating into faded bursts of colors behind your eyes. The force of it makes your cunt squeeze down hard, so hard that you feel him stutter in his rhythm above you. You feel him drop forward to grip onto the pillow behind your head and bury his face into your chest, fingers digging in tight, hips bucking up into you. His eyes are squeezed shut and he's biting hard down on the fabric of your shirt, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts. You don't need to look to know he's coming inside of you, filling you up and painting you white.

It feels like the two of you ride through the aftershocks for years before he comes back down enough to gently slip his cock out of you, hissing from the sensitivity. You barely even feel him roll off of you, the world still tilted on it's axis significantly. Your vision takes a second to focus as your chest heaves. It takes even longer to realize that Hyunjin is staring at you from where he's lying on his side, head propped up on his elbow and an expression on his face you haven't seen in months. The thought that he could still look at you with a mixture of reverence and wonder after all this time is overwhelming.

But exhaustion is the prevailing emotion, and you only manage a small, sleepy smile before you pass out, lulled to sleep by the soft kiss he presses to your shoulder.

—

When you wake up a few hours later, you’re not panicked to find that you’re by yourself. The sheets are still warm, the shower is running, and there is still a dull, pleasant ache between your legs. You stretch, muscles nicely liquid and pliant, before patting around for your phone on your nightstand.

You do not find your phone. You find, instead, a piece of paper.

It takes a moment of sleepy shuffling, but once you get the lamp on, you see that it’s a pencil sketch of your sleeping form. There’s a cloud of colors surrounding you, beautifully rich blues and pinks that overlap to create equally vibrant purples. The colors feather out around the paper, swirling into soft, delicate hearts.

There is a single word on the bottom of the drawing:

Reconciliation.

#stray kids #hyprfics #skz x reader #stray kids fic #stray kids fanfic #skz #skz hyunjin #skz hyunjin x reader #stray kids hyunjin #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin smut #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids x reader #hwang hyunjin #hwang hyunjin x reader

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measuredingold · 6 months ago

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i was free in the fall

authors note: something short and sweet :) listened to homesick by dayseeker and it struck a chord within me ( as it always does lol ) and thought, hey... what if i write something based off that ? title comes from the song. feedback is always appreciated and i hope you enjoy !

pairing: noah sebastian x reader

divider: @saradika-graphics

cross-posted on ao3

word count: 789

cw/tw: established relationship, long distance relationship, fluff and angst ?, Noah Sebastian Is Sort Of Bad At Feelings But He's Trying, sweet lol, 18+ minors do not interact

It comes to him slowly, your voice filling his every sense. If he'd shut his eyes it almost feels like you're there. Almost. He sucks in a deep breath as you continue on about your day, eyes fluttering shut as he imagines you next to him.

Tonight they're in a hotel, having a few days off in between shows and wanting to sleep in a real bed for the first in weeks. He imagines you curled up next to him, whispering to him like you normally did. He can feel your fingertips tracing over the art on his chest, and he can't help but shiver at the thought of you touching him.

Something weighs on him, heavy on his chest, and he frowns into the darkness of his room. Some of the guys went out while he stayed back, wanting nothing more than to hear your voice, yet he still feels... He isn't exactly sure. It's a new feeling he's never actually felt before. Longing for something unfamiliar and it's settling so heavily onto his chest, he almost feels like he can't breathe.

He sucks in another deep breath, eyes squeezing shut as he holds his phone up to his ear. He tries to focus on your voice, the way he can imagine your lips wrapping around certain words, but it only makes the feeling deeper. His stomach twists as the realization slowly creeps upon him, almost like it had been there all along.

He misses home.

He misses you.

This is uncharted territory, an unfamiliar feeling because he doesn't even remember the last time he missed home. Whatever the fuck that was.

Home was sometimes a figment of his imagination, something he never got to truly experience. The older he gets, the more he tries to make this so-called home. It was weird, and he never caught himself missing it that much while on the road. Yeah, he missed his bed and the moments he could get to himself. The peace and quiet and familiarity of his room, but that was it.

And it was never a person.

His mind races as he tries to picture what home looks like right now, your face popping up in every scenario he can think of. You crawling into bed after him, him settling on your couch next to you as you flip through Netflix, you asking him what you two should do for dinner that night, you, you, you.

"...Noah?"

He blinks, hard. His thoughts come to an abrupt stop when he hears you call his name, and he suddenly can't remember the last thing you said. Had he been so caught up in his thoughts that he completely blocked you out?

"Hm?" He clears his throat, sucking in a shaking breath.

"You alright, bub? Got quiet on me."

Noah isn't sure what to say. This is still fairly new. He's known you for years but this new relationship between the two of you was fresh. He still caught himself holding back on how he truly felt, hung up on the what ifs and if it will work out for the long run, but tonight... he doesn't think he'll hold back.

With one last shaking breath, he says, "Just thinking about you."

"Oh." You sound taken aback by that, huffing out a laugh. "And what exactly are you thinking about?"

"How much I miss you." He feels so vulnerable saying it, almost scared you'll say something about him being emotional when he usually never is. "And how much I can't wait to come back home."

Your silence on the other end scares him even more, stomach twisting in a way he feels like he could throw up at any given moment. He shouldn't have said anything, should've said it was nothing and let you continue on. He opens his mouth to brush it off, to tell you that it's whatever, but your voice stops him.

"I miss you, too, baby."

Your voice was so soft, he almost couldn't hear you. But he did. He heard it. He felt it. From his toes all the way to the top of his head. His face warms, cheeks growing red as each second passes, and he can't stop the way his heart pounds against his chest.

"Yeah?"

"Of course." You mumble. "Been missin' you the second you left."

"Me too." He whispers it, too scared that if he said it any louder.

The silence that follows doesn't loom as much as it had before, a sort of comfortableness settling over it. He doesn't have to say it, because he knows you know. He knows you feel the exact same way he does in that very moment, and that's enough for him right now.

#bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fic #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian fanfic #mine

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hughiecampbelle · 5 months ago

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Essential (Will Graham Oneshot)

Character/s: Will, Hannibal mention

Word Count: 1,507

Inspired By: Siren Song by Natalie Wilson (this is one of the most beautiful songs on my playlist)

Inspired By: Okay I will never shut up about this fic (Kendall Roy x Depression!Reader) by @chaithetics - I can't praise it enough. I adore it for so many reasons and I'm incredibly grateful to have read it 💕

A/N: Ahhh okay. So. Currently it's pouring out and the rain smells wonderful and I have a candle lit and my room is (mostly) clean - will be sorting that out lol. I haven't been feeling very well mentally recently. The holidays are always hard. My step-dad said some things and it really got to me. His judgement shouldn't matter at all, but it voiced every opinion I fear. It put all my insecurities on blast and I ended up sobbing to my therapist about it. I'm trying to focus on my goals, studying for the LSATs and getting everything ready to apply to law school. Trying to focus on the new year and all the possibilities it holds. It just hurt, y'know? And I thought writing would help, plus I love Will lol. Sorry for the rant!! Not my best work, but it feels good to get it out! Feedback is always appreciated!!! ❤🥩❤

*This is not part of the writing event, this is just a silly therapy fic. I will make a proper post about it, I pinky promise!*

The sun has set. Bright, twinkling stars poke holes in the cobalt sky. It’s your favorite version. The warm lights of houses splash outward through the windows. Some are muted by curtains. Others remain unobscured. Throwing itself across the snow, butter-yellow and bleeding. The snow falls in fat, robust flakes and you hear the wind howl, picking up the longer the night goes on. Downstairs the dogs bark and whine. Pawing at the door until it creaks open, they key sticking just a little. His voice carries through the house like music, song-like, in a key you cannot name, but love nonetheless. He laughs, telling them to be quick as they scatter in the yard. You count the heartbeats until they’re back inside. Safe. He sets down his bag, hanging his coat and shaking off his boots. His glasses, you assume, are not on his face, but placed on a table. The kitchen, most likely, though if he stopped at his desk, perhaps they sit among his things. His familiarities. He works in routines, straying little, if at all. You know what he will find, picturing it from memory. The cupboards and fridge undisturbed. A single mug in the skin. Tea, coffee, something hot cooled off, frozen even, half-filled or half-empty, the decision is up to him. It’s all you could manage today. An act you talk yourself into, a feat you are not prepared for, but crave regardless. Sugar and milk. You made it last the day and yet, it remains unfinished. You hear the faucet run, the stream steady. Imagine his hands. Holding the sponge, circling the inside of the ceramic, filling and pouring until bubbles have subsided. Less severe, less violent, less and less and less. He places it on the drying rack upside down, the clink of it alongside the rest of the dishes filling you with guilt. You could have washed it. You could have unloaded the burden from him. It was your mess. Despite it, despite this grief, he will wave it off. Happy to do it, to help. Still, you might argue, and he will shrug, out of words, but not out of fight.

His footsteps patter through the first floor, pouring food into bowls, calling them each by name. Dinner is served, you think. Unzipping his bag, the sound high and sharp, retreating what he needs before you follow him to the stairs. Each step groaned quietly, as if announcing his presence in whispers. Contaninig their excitement or, perhaps, swapping secrets. Gossip. Down the hall, he makes his way towards you. His cologne, subtle, is a welcomed scent. Woodsy, earthy, like soil. Hints of tobacco. Fabric softener, too. Lavender, you think, though they are all the same. Knocking quietly at the bedroom door, lazily left ajar, before walking inside. Hey you, he says. You were right. He’s not wearing his glasses. You can see his eyes - an amalgamation of color. Blue mostly, though there are hints of green and specks of brown. Puppy dog, exceptional in conveying emotions. You search for anger in them, fury or wrath or disgust, but there is only understanding. Relief. His smile is serene and his movements gentle: placing his files full of photos and notes on the nightstand. Overflowing with gore and mutilation, there is so much work he has brought home, so much responsibility, and yet he makes time for you and your dishes. You’ve been up here all day. He says it as a statement rather than a question. You wait for reprimand, for abolishment or scolding, but his features remain soft. Were you warm enough? The blankets and duvet wrapped around you, piled atop one another. You nod, unable to find your voice. Good, he says, leaning over to kiss your forehead. He is warm despite the cold, his cheeks rosy. The bridge of his nose has two small, red marks. It must’ve been a glasses kind of day. Little time to take them off, to get up close.

He talks without expectation. About Jack and his demands. About Hannibal and his repetitive, yet fascinating, takes on the world. Undressing as he does so. You watch him unbutton his shirt, a white t-shirt bright underneath. He does not say that he went to his psychiatrist about you. What to do, how to help. Should he be doing something differently? Should he be approaching the subject with more grit, less tenderness? Pulls a sweater over his head, the navy blue one you always liked on him. Unbuckling his belt. Searching for the flannel pants he loves, the pajamas he wears as often as he can. Should he make you go to a hospital? Is that the right course of action? Dr. Lecter hushes his worries. Reminds him he is doing everything right. That this will pass, and you will find your way back to him. He knows this, he must remind himself. He will be patient. He will take care of this, of you, as long as you both need. Bev who made a funny, albeit inappropriate, joke at the crime scene. Another killer on the loose. Too early to track, to pattern match. Talk of two offenders instead of one, a duo. He climbs in beside you, his voice steady, his hands moving as he speaks. Reminiscent of a conductor with no orchestra. Caught up in the drama, the obscurity, the way the bodies were found and how they were killed, he loses himself in the anticipation - a pressure in his chest - he must get out every word before it is too late. It is only after he has finished, catching his breath, does he notice you've fallen back to sleep.

Trapped in a half-sleep, you catch parts of the truth. The bedside lamp has been turned on, the room even darker than you last saw. His side of the bed is empty. The faucet running in the bathroom. He sits, his files on his lap, string through each image and note. Smells of mint. He hums quietly to himself, a sound you have learned to cherish. The light is off. The bedroom black. He lies beside you, but he is awake. Softly, the words come out. Are you mad at me? He takes a moment, pausing, and dread begins to fill your chest. Why would I be mad at you? He asks,and then adds, Of course not. You can’t bring yourself to explain without tears welling up in your eyes, a sob trapped in your throat, so you say nothing. Because, you start, but cannot bring yourself to finish. Quickly wiping your eyes, grateful for the lack of light. Because I’m a burden, you think. Because I’m not myself. Because I ruin everything. Because you deserve better. Because, because, because. Will moves closer, wrapping his arms around you, rubbing circles into your back. You feel his knuckles across the spokes of your spine. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to. Another night crying. In the morning your eyes will be bloodshot, your face puffy. Another mess you’ve created that he cleans up. Finally, he whispers: I could never be mad at you. But what about-? Never. His tone, not unharsh, is serious and something about that settles your nerves. The gnawing guilt inside chews with its gums instead of its teeth. Get some sleep, okay? He squeezes you a little tighter. You fall asleep like that, intertwined.

You don’t hear him get up. You don’t feel his absence until it is too late. A note left for you, his handwriting distinct and melancholy. I made you a drink. Be careful, it’s hot. Love you - Will. The mug he washed, the one you dirtied, sits beside the paper. Steam no longer pours from the top, but the cup itself is still warm. Downstairs you hear the symphony of dogs chewing. Loudly, you note, but happily. Another chore taken care of. Softly, you sip, grateful for him. For his actions, his selflessness. Today will be a little better than the last, that you are certain of. One step at a time. Will will talk to Dr. Lecter again. He will question if he’s helping. He will fear he isn’t doing enough. The two of you wrapped up in your worries, not distinct from one another, similar words with different meanings. Am I doing enough? Am I failing them? He will be talked down, reminded that this thing, this cyclical phase, it always ends. No matter what, there is always an endpoint. He must remind himself that, he must remind you, too. The two of you journey through this not out of obligation, but of necessity. He needs you. He adores you. A world without you is not one he’d like to take part in. Where you sense burden, resentment, anger, he will meet you with generosity, with compassion and understanding. It is a surprise every time, and yet it shouldn’t be. He needs you more than words could ever describe. You can’t get rid of him that easily.

#writing #therapy fic #will graham #will graham oneshot #will graham drabble #will graham x reader #hannibal #hannibal oneshot #hannibal drabble #hannibal x reader

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prapaiwife · 1 year ago

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I'm back with another lita post😁, but this time on episode 13 cause I'm rewatching it, and im stunned each time with fortpeat performance in these heart-wrenching scenes. I mean, if you've watched, we've seen Sky's journey of allowing himself to trust and fully love pai allow himself to be happy be selfish and have this, which was the scariest thing to do cause of his past.

And peat wow🤧 his portrayal of Sky here, and later in the next scene when he goes to tell his story of what happened. It is the highlight of his acting! *makes me so excited for Love Sea* but Sky isn't crying. He looks so drained, and Prapai asks for him to cry, not to hold it in, but as he starts to cry himself, Sky asks him why. And then these lines!! If you can't cry, I'll cry for you. If you suffer, I will suffer with you, if your in pain, I'll be in pain too. Let me cry in your stead.

Pai is so emotional here, but he needs to have Sky see him like actually see him! He doesn't want to lose him again he isn't gonna leave him he wants to if anything be barrier for the pain he's feeling right now 😭😭😭😭Yet he's trying his best hold up but can't help but to cry

He doesn't want Sky to think this is something he has to face on his own, and what just happened won't make him change his mind. He's gonna listen and always encourage Sky to feel whatever it is he's feeling to him.

Which is so good cause in the special ep sky does that tho he feels already securee in his relationship with pai at this point of their relationship he says he knows how much pai loves him and knows his heart 🤧,he doesn't feel uncomfortable to express that discomfort of having his exes being around. And pai takes full responsibility for that and acknowledges it. He's sorry his past still is getting in the way of their relationship. And that's something sky shouldn't have have bear with constantly of his ex flings. Healthy communication at it's finest!!!

Even as back in ep 12 for sky to admit to himself that he actually loves pai as sad as it was to see sky break from this wall he was trying to keep up, a wall that protected him and told him that it was too good to be true and pai didnt really love him at all. But i think sky already knew he loved him and he lenaded into it but like i said seeing pai prove his point that made him retreat. But pai being there and reading all the things sky wrote about him making him see that this isnt really what you want and though u cant tell me yet how you really feel about me. It's okay cause I love you and you can too tell me you love me. like 😭😭😭😭😭

l'm probably rambling but like their relationship is just everything to me i can't put into words lol

#love in the air series #love in the air the series #love in the air #lita #prapai x sky #sky x prapai #prapaisky #skyprapai #prapai #sky #fort thitipong #peat wasuthorn #fortpeat #fort x peat

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httpiastri · 1 year ago

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okay so i started writing on a boyfriend!paul blurb for after the race today, but then i deleted it and wrote this instead: a short snippet of a future chapter of the "the way i loved you" fic 😋 pretty short but it's all i can produce rn lol. will likely have some changes when i post the actual chapter. aiming to post the first things from the fic soon !!! hope u enjoy 😚

series masterlist

paul is beaming when you see him stroll back to the paddock after his media duties. his cap is perched on top of his head – the right cap, finally – and his fingers are still tightly wrapped around the neck of his champagne bottle. when he notices you leaning against the doorframe leading into the f2 hospitality, his smile grows even bigger.

you meet him halfway, arms wrapping around his shoulders easily, just like they have so many times before. one of his arms drapes around your waist and he holds you close, a hum vibrating from his chest. "congrats, paul," you tell him. "that was amazing. you were amazing."

"thank you," he says before pausing. then, he lets out a chuckle. "to be honest, i wasn't sure if you would care."

you frown at him when you pull slightly away from him, just enough to look into his eyes. is that what he really thought? that you wouldn't care about his driving? "oh, please. you still mean a lot to me, okay?" your hand moves down to his upper arm, giving it a soft squeeze. "i still consider you to be one of my closest friends."

friends. the word stings like a knife in his heart. it's been months since you broke up, and yet, it still feels like a raw wound.

paul forces a smile. he understands that despite how painful it is, there's something good in it. there's still a place for him in your heart, even if he's forced to share it with someone else.

he pulls you in again, and the hug is even tighter now than before. it's a comforting feeling; you're both at peace, with a good weekend behind you, in the arms of someone so close to you. after everything you've gone through together, but especially everything he has gone through these last few months with the mercedes academy and so on, you're finally through to the other side. "it all worked out in the end, huh?" you ask after a few moments of silence.

"i guess it did." you part from each other to leave that oh-so-familiar gap between you yet again. "will you be celebrating with us tonight? i think pepe had something planned. you know how he is."

you snort. "yeah, i do know. maybe i will." you shift uncomfortably, crossing your arms over your chest as your eyes dart to the ground. "but, um... i'll have to check with..."

you don't even say his name – you don't have to. ollie didn't just have a bad race today; the entire weekend has been so far from everyone's expectations. and if you know him correctly, he will not be in the mood for celebrations tonight.

paul just nods slowly, pressing his lips into a thin line. "right."

the silence that follows is so awkward you can't help but chew on your bottom lip, a tiny sigh escaping through your mouth. he must be hating this, you think – today is supposed to be only a good day for him, he shouldn't have his ex's new relationship pushed up in his face.

"well, i have a debrief to get to," you make up, flashing him a quick smile. "congrats again, paul."

"thank you." he gives you another nod, before turning away and making his way towards the paddock. "pepe will text you!"

and just like that, he's off, and your mind wanders to the thought of actually going out to celebrate. ollie will definitely not join you, though you're not sure why you don't want to go without him. is it because you'd rather stay and comfort him?

or is it because you're scared of what you'll do, or feel, when you're alone with paul for the first time since you broke up?

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garciaasfluffypen · 9 months ago

Text

stay like this forever

pairing: elle greenaway x reader word count: 1k warnings: elle is sad? a/n: this *might* be cross posted to my wattpad, i found it on my google docs and can't remember where i uploaded it lol. also, if you can find the subtle starkid reference i'll give you a cookie

the case had been a tough one, and you were absolutely drained. it was rare that a case drained you this much, to the point you were practically falling asleep on the jet. wrapped up in the extra blanket you always stashed away on the jet that smelled like your girlfriend, you closed your eyes and pulled the blanket closer to yourself, adjusting your position so you were practically in a ball. there were many thoughts running through your head- mostly about the outcome of the case but some about what could have happened if you had been a few minutes later. your girlfriend’s face was etched into the front of your eyelids and you could still practically feel the fear running through your veins as elle stood face to face with the unsub.

it took absolutely everything in your power not to run over to her and save her ass, and it was a good thing you didn’t compromise that considering you two hadn’t told hotch about your relationship yet. after everything that had happened while she was in montego bay with derek, you offered her your spare room so she could heal in the presence of another human. during that time you two got progressively closer, and eventually one night while wine drunk you admitted you had feelings for her, and ended up kissing. since then, you two had been attached at the hip, partnering together at any chance you could get. you had a sinking feeling they all suspected something was going on, but you didn’t want to face that reality yet.

you smiled slightly to yourself at the memory, looking at a sleeping elle sitting across from you. her features were so soft when she slept, and it was a stark difference from the elle you knew from work. it was nice, being the only person who had the luxury of seeing her in that state. moments later you felt the plane start shifting downwards, and you knew you would be landing soon.

by the time you landed, elle was rubbing her eyes and everyone else was getting ready to get off the jet and go back to their respective houses. hotch had told everyone to go home, and that you could all do the paperwork in the morning, which meant you and elle could go straight home and straight to bed. you waited for her patiently at the bottom of the stairs, smiling at her as the two of you walked over to one of the FBI issued cars that always escorted you to and from the air strip. it wasn’t that far of a walk, but it was easier to drive. you and elle said your goodbyes before walking to the parking structure, making sure nobody was around before you snuck your hand into hers.

the ride back to your place was quiet. something told you elle was itching to ask you a question, but was waiting for the right time to ask it. you pulled your car into your assigned parking spot, shutting off the car and waiting for elle to grab her stuff before you locked it, the two of you heading inside. both of you got ready for bed, you finishing your nightly routine first and laying down in bed, getting situated under the covers. elle joined you moments later, and you could tell she had been crying.

“elle, darling, what’s wrong?” you held your arms open, holding her close as she curled into you.

another round of sobs attacked elle’s body as you simply laid there, running your hand up and down her back as she got all her emotions out. it was rare that you saw her in this state, and you knew that she had to get all of her tears out before you two fell asleep- if hotch had ingrained anything into your brain, it was that you shouldn't bottle up your emotions, especially after a hard case. roughly ten minutes later, she sniffled.

“‘m sorry. i dunno where that came from.”

“it's okay, elle.” you placed a supportive kiss to the top of her head. “sometimes all you need is a good cry.”

“i got your sleep shirt covered in my tears, though.” she pouted.

“and they’ll dry.” you tilted her head to look up at you. “i could care less about this old shirt. i’ve had it for years. a few tears won’t hurt it.”

elle rested her head back on your chest. “i guess i’m just a bit overwhelmed from today.”

“how so?”

“well, for one, i tried subduing the unsub without backup.” she dryly chuckled. “i didn’t think about the implications of what was going to happen.” she dug her head into the crook of your neck. “i almost lost you today.”

“but hey, you saved all of our asses in the end. it was your smart thinking that led us to him.” you placed another peck on the top of her head. “if it wasn’t for you, we’d still be in pennsylvania trying to find the son of a bitch.”

“it was because of me i almost left you girlfriendless.” elle mumbled into you as she curled in closer. “i don’t know if i would have been able to live with myself if i let you lose me.”

“elle, darling,” you looked down to her, waiting until she was looking up to you. “don’t worry about that. you’re actively healing from a traumatic event, and for each person it’s different. all i care about is that you’re safe. you’re safe, you’re here, and you’re in my arms, which i must say, is a nice change.”

“shush.” you felt elle chuckle against your chest.

"i thought you were so badass." you smiled at elle. “yet here you are, curled up against me looking absolutely anything but badass.”

"i am." elle mumbled into your shoulder. "i swear."

"it seems to me like right now you're just a soft little teddy bear."

you couldn’t help but laugh as elle playfully glared at you. "you're going to regret saying that."

there was a moment of silence. “i wish we could stay like this forever.”

“yeah, me too.”

elle closed her eyes as her breathing slowed down, you following shortly seconds later. a small smile graced your lips as you felt her shift closer to you, holding you as close to her body as she could muster.

she really was a soft teddy bear, even if she didn’t know it.

#elle greenaway #elle greenaway fanfiction #elle greenaway x reader #elle greenaway imagine #elle greenaway oneshot #elle greenaway one shot #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds imagine #an i (queue) of 187

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kneelingshadowsalome · 2 years ago

Note

the post about konig and tatoos got me thinking how would he react with his girl doing a full body waxing, since someone else needs to literally see all her body and """touch""" her to do that, and imagine if it's a man 😭

Just imagine König marching to the beauty salon (people are screaming) then simply barging in to the room where this guy trying to give you a wax oh my God 🥲

Unfortunately, that's not going to happen. König won't let you do whatever you want – not without checking the details first. Also: no male gynecologists. Like, none, EVER. (Lol what's wrong with this guy)

But....

now I'm thinking about König's reaction when you come home after a full body wax 👀 done by some innocent woman of course, someone who's a professional & would never have nasty thoughts and intentions towards you 💕

CW: Cunnilingus, edging, overall shameless behavior 18+

König is so, so curious. Of course he wants to inspect you!

He likes his women soft, but let's be honest: this man is happy with whatever you give him. He adores you and worships your body, waxed or not. He would never force you into such a thing (actually, he'd be happiest if you never left home...)

But now that you're suddenly even softer than usual – wait, you're silky smooth all over?? König just can't stop running his hands over your thighs, he can't stop staring at what's between your legs. Actually, he's admiring the view like it's the first time he's laid eyes on a woman.

And yep. He simply has to have a taste.

Long, savoured licks and starved moans ensue as he goes down to enjoy your silk. Better grab something sturdy to hold on to (yeah, why not him?) because this dude is not leaving his favorite place in a while. He will edge and edge and edge you until you cry and beg, because he loves seeing you like this: spread wide open, sweet and bare and so wet that the audible evidence of his treatment is downright sloppy.

Usually, he's a bit more rough, the constant high libido of this man making the sex a sweaty, needy business. But now... Now, he takes his sweet time. He's a different man, sampling you like you're the best cuisine he's ever tried.

You can trash on the bed, you can try to tug at his hair when he drives you to the edge but not over it. You can cry and whine and sob but he's not going to budge. Just when you open your mouth and say you're about to lose your mind, König gives you a sudden, straightforward compliment.

"I like this," he sighs on your pussy with his hand down his pants. And you shouldn't be surprised that he's stroking himself while lapping you. Guy hasn't even bothered to take his cock out – apparently, he's perfectly happy with the prospect of cumming inside his camos like the filthy dog that he is.

"So soft," he gives you another starved lick, "and wet…"

"König... Mh, I can't take it anymore," you moan and gasp on the sheets, your voice so needy and pathetic it could easily be mistaken for a sob.

"No? But I can," he rasps and continues the torment.

You're starting to think that the waxing was a terrible mistake. He's being mean, and for what? Just because you happen to look nice and feel soft.

Actually, König is the meanest man you know, always teasing and torturing you, always making your life hard and your pussy wet. The worst thing is that you can feel the stupid grin spreading on his lips.

"Look at you, little one... Am I being too mean?" He asks as if he can read minds as well. You don't know if the compassion in his voice is real or feigned, but he won't let you linger on that thought for too long. No: your attention falls back to the hot, determined mouth making love to you. His lips seal around your clit, and give you another soft, ample suck.

"Fu–ck," you whisper helplessly in the air.

A mistake... A big mistake.

König stops, now genuinely shocked.

"Such filth from my angel's mouth... Where have you learned words like that?"

"König, don't be ridicu—"

"I can't let you cum yet."

His declaration makes you want to scream. But you know better than that... There's nothing you can do but try to suppress the tears as he goes down on you once more, ensuring you get some more but never enough. You promise him you will never swear again, you babble and plead, but it's no use. König makes you promise it twice. Thrice.

By the time he finally does end your torture, your whole body is a quivering, overstimulated mess. You cum, wave after wave, riding on his tongue like there's nothing else in this world. You're pretty sure some of your brain cells have died during his treatment.

Yes, the waxing was either a terrible mistake or the most brilliant idea you've ever had... You can't really decide in your state of brainless euphoria. What you do know, however, is that König is a huge hypocrite: he always has to ruin the things he views as sweet and innocent and pretty. You're a mess, but not mess enough for him.

He cums on your poor, bare pussy with a few anxious faps – you can do nothing but lie there like a helpless maiden as the hot load lands on your soft skin and trickles over your sensitive clit.

It's downright laughable how he gathers you in his arms after such a shameless, greedy session. He even has the audacity to coo loving nonsense in your ear. He does all kinds of sweet things except clean you up.

When you whine about it, he says he will give his "sweet angel" a wash soon – no doubt wanting to carry you to the bathroom, bridal style, like the perfect gentleman.

#answered #yandere könig #könig smut #könig x you #fluffy nasty könig drabbles

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mermaidsirennikita · 3 months ago

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In the year of 2025 when we're just saying what we wanna say, I'm gonna list off some romance pet peeves (which extend to pet peeves about the romance community):

—People who only read about virgin heroines. I think it's weird. If you prefer it over heroines who aren't virgins, fine, we all have preferences, but if it's a requirement for your reading experience, then what the actual fuck tbh.

—Books where the heroine just lies back and does nothing while the hero goes to town. It is not 1973. She can do things to him. She should do things to him.

—"Why choose", and especially those wherein the sword don't cross. It's not inherently bad as a concept, but I have yet to read a book with this angle that doesn't basically read as a female fantasy versus a romance. I think it is excessively difficult for people to write a poly book above a triad wherein all parties actually feel like equally well-drawn characters, and that is simply an understandably artistic limitation.

And it's not that you can't or shouldn't write that angle; I just think they often read more as erotica than romance. Which is a fine thing to write. I just don't buy the *love story*. It's about the heroine getting things (again, receiving) whereas the heroes are basically fantasy stand-ins. Frankly, when they are literally all together at all times (versus in a real-life poly sitch wherein this would often involve people having metas, separate homes, different degrees of commitment) and all the men are straight straight straight, it feels borderline homophobic to me lol. Like. It's not IMPOSSIBLE for this to exist without queerness, but why?

Also, it's painfully clear that a lot of them are written by monogamous women who probably don't even have poly friends...?

Basically: I love a good poly romance. I even think that a series like Sierra Simone's Thornchapel is a great example of a flexible poly sitch wherein it's MMF but the heroine does sleep with one other guy without actually bringing him into the relationship (or frankly, being in love with him). But when you try to brand something as this emotional romance with 4+ partners and you keep them alllll in this scenario where they're allllll together.... I have YET to see that feel emotionally deep.

—Yeah, romance should be well-written and even a one-handed read can be well-written. The goal should be good writing. The genre being about having a good time doesn't excuse poor writing. We can hold this genre to a standard, and if you want people to take it seriously, you kinda gotta. You can't complain about people denigrating your "spicy books" and then say the writing doesn't matter.

We may not all agree on what a good book looks like, and not everything you enjoy has to be solid gold, by any means. But the blanket "why are you critiquing this????" bullshit is invalid. This is not fanfic. People are making money off this. Critique is acceptable.

—It's okay to lament historical romance going out of vogue in traditional publishing. I do, too. But acting like it's entirely the fault of tradpub (and trust me, I'm holding them accountable for their part) doesn't help it grow.

—Indie pub is great and I love it and I'm for it but yes we can tell when a book wasn't properly edited and yes that is why a lot of older books do feel more well-written than a lot of newer books. You can be a good writer. You still need an editor, and it will show.

—Goodreads shouldn't be trusted, and I say this as someone who posts my reviews on Goodreads because it is what is best for the author in this current climate.

—Asking people to spoil a romance novel because it's "stressing you out" makes me roll my eyes. Asking to be spoiled re: triggers, etc, totally get it. Getting stressed out because the people in a book with a guaranteed HEA are fighting... come on now. Let us develop a thicker skin.

—Slow burns can be good. A lot of slow burns are also just an excuse to piddle around and fill up 700 pages full of interruptions. Smariana Shapata.

—There's absolutely nothing wrong with an alpha hero and I love them lots. If he doesn't get his ass kicked by love what is the point

—Calling romance "for women, by women" and using that as an excuse to get hostile towards men entering the space is *homophobic* and *transphobic* and kinda gives TERF vibes.

—Rejecting writers because they're fascist supporters is good, actually

—If you don't think what's happening in America is going to affect your access to romance novels because you're not American, you're wrong and you should do some quick googling about the dominance of the U.S. in the English-language publishing industry.

—Reading outside of your own experience is important in every genre and romance is no exception.

—r/romancebooks is an overall really good alternative to BookTok. r/historicalromance is... a more complex issue.

#romance novel blogging #i just feel a lot of rage lately #underneath the depression

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sillyguy99 · 1 year ago

Text

* don't look now, but i lost my shoe.

(Undertale Sans x Reader)

Chapter One: * what's with these homies, dissin' my girl?

[Index | Next]

Notice:

(This story is nearly 5 years old, and though it doesn't show my best work, I decided to post it, just because I stopped it at chapter 18, when there were only 2 more chapters left to finish it. So... I'm gonna give it another shot – making minor edits to make the plot less dramatic and angsty, lol.)

(***Also, since Tumblr has a more limited format: italic texts are from you, the reader, and bold texts are from others.)

• • • • •

You've changed.

The best thing your boss did was to give you that warning.

You shouldn't keep working for the law if you're just gonna be a traitor.

How am I a traitor?

You work 9 to 5, sometimes 8 to 6, for the benefit of monsters.

Now, all of a sudden, our sex life goes down the drain.

I haven't slept with you since you got that promotion, and that was two whole months ago.

I'm supposed to be your husband, but you've left me in the dry.

I'm tired.

And I refuse to sleep with someone who won't support me in my new job.

Or should I remind you said I wasn't a real detective?

That my degree's 'worth shit', simply because of the field I'm working in these days?

The rest is an ongoing, fruitless conversation you can't bother yourself with.

Through reading those texts for what has to be the twentieth time today, you sigh, hiccup, and close your eyes tight, lifting your face slightly to avoid letting tears fall.

Barely two hours are left until he comes home to drop off your child, and the mere thought that you have to sleep with him five hours after that makes your stomach twist and churn. You don't want to imagine him naked: panting, heavy, and on top of you again, doing whatever he pleases with little regards to your own limits. Nausea takes over – violent, making you open your eyes and suppress a gag.

You really, really don't want anything to do with him anymore.

Yet, he insists you should remain married until your child reaches their eighteenth birthday.

“At least wait until they're grown up,” he said. “Cuz what's six more years? Be honest with me.” Then, he chuckled. “As ugly as you frown when you see me, I doubt you hate me that much.”

That had been a year ago.

Would you really have to wait five more years until your freedom?

The thought sends chills down your spine.

While he was a good father, that adjective didn't really fit next to husband.

At the beginning of your marriage, yes – he was the best spouse you could ask for.

Now?

You'd rather eat drywall than have to spend a single second near him – without your child around, of course.

With your newest agreement, it felt more as if your husband were a client, his payment being not making your life hell, and your service what he claimed was something a wife should be willing to give twenty-four seven.

You shake your head and search for a distraction amongst the people surrounding the bar, aware you can only end up worse if you continue to dwell on the subject. The air presses down on you hot and heavy, a feeling that only increases the more time you stay seated without doing anything for your growing aches. Your sole companion is your mind when you realize you're too overcome with emotions to talk to someone without scaring them off. Chatter drowns out coherent thinking and sensory overload begins to show by how difficult breathing becomes. Seeking an escape route, you hold the bartender back with a raised hand and an 'excuse me'. Then, you ask him for some bottled water – the only kind he could touch willingly. Small embers flutter around the air as he turns around, leaving you alone with burning cheeks and a pounding headache.

Groaning, you pinch the bridge of your nose and blink through your blurry vision. Then, you adjust your glasses – despite knowing the excess shots have pretty much screwed you over already. The hour marked on your phone surfaces a sigh. How fast time seems to be going makes you notice you currently only have around an hour left before your husband arrives with your child. They would be staying with you while he went off to work, and the least you wanted was to look washed up for his arrival.

"need somethin' else, pal?"

You jolt at the new voice, deep and hearty.

Reluctantly, you cast your gaze up to see a skeleton monster standing behind the counter, now glossy with polish. His face is tough to make out with the blurriness, yet you can tell he's looking at you. From the way he stands behind the counter and the stuffy look his suit gives off with its pristine and exaggerated formality, you figure he's a new employee. His newbie appearance doesn't erase the warm and welcoming aura most bartenders appear to carry by default, however. Instead, it makes his smile and words more genuine in his approach.

It takes you a while to respond aside from shaking your head – mind hazy and disoriented. You thank him and sweep the water bottle off the counter, then turn the lid open, breathe in deep, and take a series of long, greedy gulps. Finally, you set it back down, more than half of it already gone.

One more screw up, and you were out of your job at the law department for good.

It doesn't help that you're currently hanging out at a place strictly and utterly forbidden by your boss: a hole-in-the-wall bar and grill establishment open to all, kept family-friendly during the day and becoming more daring during the night. It has been long since you ever drank alcohol of any sort, and it's beginning to show. You can hardly sit without tumbling pitifully to the side.

“hey.”

You're snapped back toward reality through the feeling of someone resting their arms over the counter, facing you and waiting for your return.

You frown and look up from the water bottle to see the same skeleton – his previous stuffy appearance appearing more natural now that he's taken off his tie and left two of the shirt's buttons unfastened.

"i’m no expert on humans, but you look like you could use someone to talk to."

You feel hazy again.

And whether due to the drinks or the heat, you're not too certain of.

But – right now – you're positive about one thing.

“U- Um…”

As you wipe a tear off your cheek and burst out half a sob and half a laugh, you realize you really could use someone to talk to.

“Thank you.”

#sans x reader #reader insert #undertale fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #weezer reference #female reader #chubby reader #detective reader #long fic #weekly updates #undertale x reader #sans undertale #classic sans #angst and fluff #slow burn

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leroiestmortvivelareine · 2 months ago

Text

tgr live journal - ch 7-8

my reactions to reading tgr

(all chapters)

tgr live - ch 7-8

who did that post saying Jean would have freshman following him around in awe while he glared at them - its so true

like ducklings

oh, Jean's gonna be talking about Grayson to Lucas. we all know it.

Biker Jean is coming, and we are NOT ready

the Foxes are a pack of useless fools, little thing like a murder trial and they lose focus for an entire WEEK

i can't talk about the trial

i can't talk about Neil being still like stone

I can't

endless hours of fictitious legal drama in the world yet that scene on the stairs will haunt me forever

thank you Nora for not putting us through too much

Nicky... oh my poor Nicky... please believe you have a family. The right family. You chose right, you did, you did...

don't touch that car you idiots it's going to explode

LOLLL... imagine if Jean's and Kevin's shiny new cars arrived with a card saying "please stop sleeping with my stepson"

Nora you are fucking diabolical

whatever hole Tetsuji's hiding in, I hope he gets to hear about the Ravens stooping so low as to bribe people to please say nice things about them

although I like to imagine he's still in the murder room where we left him, doubled over on his knees and hating life.

Kevin got all his textbooks back, aw. The EA Kevin shrine joins the PSU ring-binder Kevin shrine. I wonder if they'll ever meet up, and argue about whose owner was more obsessed

Are the books damaged? No but they're sticky for some reason

mmm hmm we're sure you'd like to show Kevin the best Los Angeles has to offer Jeremy

lack of impressive things to do in South Carolina???? WTF???? does he not know about the roof with the broken lock?? is he unaware there are beanbag chairs?? has he never seen the Mas?? never been to Sweeties?? EDEN'S?????!?!!! The world is not enough for you Jeremy????

The freshmen are revolting

lol Neil is the new Kevin

OH NO YOU DID NOT BRING ANDREW TO CALIFORNIA!!! WHAT IN THE ACTUAL FUCK YOU DO NOT PUT THAT MAN IN THIS STATE!!!

lol Neil you demon of chaos

you are sooooooooo sleeping on the couch when Andrew gets home

Dunno what you're both so upset about, I did give you details! I said I had pad thai with chicken and coconut rice and a mango lassi

Left out some vital points though...

...Like which state you visited...

...And a whole other crime family...

...And attempted murder...

...And actual murder...

Also tbh it was really a pineapple lassi.

Jeremy you shouldn't boast about using a lighter to cruise guys with when your shorts are that flammable

I bet Andrew was super impressed to be holding the lucky lighter of love lol

HAIL QUEEN!!!!!!

Jean just cannot hide his feelings can he, poor lamb

Kevin, The Boy Who Is Off Limits

mmm Kevin being soft with Jean is very hurty

Jeremy is two seconds away from relating his sexual prowess to impress Kevin

*excited voice* OMG I totally slammed Ivan into the wall you should have seen me Kevin

... which i guess answers at least one question we definitely weren't all asking at all in any way...

Jeremy is constantly on the verge of slipping into cruising mode, he has to actively stop himself doing this with Jean

it's literally harder for him NOT to pick up men than to pick up men

what... that's not how you study, Jeremy

why on earth anyone worries Jeremy will get into law school is beyond me. Riko had more chance of becoming a history professor.

In the running for valedictorian? really?

(< prev, next >)

#tgr journal lremvlr #aftg #all for the game #the foxhole court #the golden raven #aftg tgr #tgr spoilers #the golden raven spoilers #jean moreau #jeremy knox #cat alvarez #laila dermott #andrew minyard #neil josten #aaron minyard #kevin day #nicky hemmick

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laxmiree · 2 years ago

Text

[CN] MLQC Lucien’s Sacred Mountain date + calls + moments translation

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT!! ⚠️

This post contains a detailed spoiler for a date that has not been released in EN yet! Feel free to notify me if there are any mistakes in the translation~

'I know that there must be things in the world that are unknowable.'

'I never set my heart on those illusory protections and blessings, only hoping for those silent bystanders to witness our smooth and winding journey through life.'

'But if there truly is something that can hear the sound of prayers, I hope they can give her a miracle.'

[Pre-Evolve phone call- All path is fortunate]

youtube

(T/N: IT’S VERY IMPORTANT TO HEAR THIS CALL FIRST so the date will make more sense)

[Date – Video ver]

youtube

(T/N: As always, I always recommend watching the video for a more comprehensive experience. Personally, I really like how tender and affectionate he sounds in this one and the bgm choice is good to set the mood~ Don’t forget to turn on CC!

If the direct video doesn't work - [Use this link]

(Besides, tumblr doesn't allow us to use an old text editor anymore so I can't add up more than 30 pics in this post. Tumblr post alone won't capture the change in background and sprite as usual(for reference I always have like 60+ pic in one post LOL))

[Date – Transcript ver]

[Part 1]

Lucien: MC, how are you?

The whole world is incredibly dizzy; waves of nausea and headaches erode my will, making breathing a little uncomfortable.

I lie in bed in a daze, trying to lift the corners of my mouth under his worried gaze, and I accept the medicine he hands me.

MC: It's just a little bit uncomfortable, but resting for a while should make it better.

MC: As expected, I shouldn't take flights directly next time. A train would be a better option even if it's slower…

After swallowing the medicine, I comfortingly tilt my head against him, feeling his warm fingertips brush against my cheeks and spine, guiding me as I slowly lay back down.

Lucien: (with a trace of guilt in his tone)…I'm very sorry.

MC: What are you sorry for?

MC: This was a decision and journey we both made together. I won't accept you shouldering all the responsibility on your own.

=Flashback Start=

MC: Hehe, this little pig looks even cuter than in the picture!

A month ago, I enthusiastically helped Lucien replace the phone case with a new one I bought for him.

After putting it on, I happily picked up my own phone, leaning against the side of the cabinet, and showed it off to Lucien who was washing dishes.

The two pink and chubby PUPU piglets are symmetrically posed, looking adorable and charming.

Lucien: (chuckle) Your taste has always been quite good.

MC: But if your colleagues see Professor Lucien using such a cute phone case, won't they think you're childish?

MC: Will I ruin your image?

Lucien: Whether it's childish or not, I don't think it can be reflected in a small phone case.

Lucien: Besides, their judgment doesn't hold much significance to me either.

Lucien: Forming the same scenery with another 'little piglet' appears to bring more happiness.

MC: Then let our brilliant Professor Lucien accompany me to be a 'happy little piglet' for a few months~

I couldn't help but laugh and noticed that Lucien's phone suddenly vibrated. A work approval notification popped up on the screen.

MC: It says that your colleague has arrived... take a look.

Lucien: Just go ahead and take a look for me.

He spoke casually, skillfully squeezing some dishwashing detergent onto a dishcloth, and then picking up a plate next to it to continue washing.

Receiving the "instructions," I naturally tapped open the message on the screen.

MC: It seems like a researcher named... Luo Ke wants to apply for a two-day vacation, saying he wants to travel to Tibet…

Lucien: Please approve it for me.

Seeing his familiar attitude, I didn't ask further questions. I simply pressed the "approve request" button silently.

Meanwhile, Lucien blinked slightly, his hand movements slowing down as he seemed to be contemplating something as well.

MC: You're not going to ask a few more questions about such a distant trip?

Lucien: This isn't his first time going there; he must have been there at least... more than ten times.

Lucien: Every time he's waiting for particularly important experimental results or article review feedback, he runs over there.

The last plate was placed in the dish rack, and Lucien wiped his hands. He took the phone and opened someone's social media feed for me.

Over the past few years, there were only a few posts, but almost all of them were various types of snowy mountain landscapes.

Lucien: It's evident that the place must have quite an appealing charm.

Lucien: It's probably indeed a miraculous place…

He paused, his tone tinged with a curiosity born from long-term observation.

MC: So, after he goes there, does he always have positive outcomes?

Lucien: Not necessarily.

Lucien: Moreover, I believe those favorable outcomes within the expected range reflect his dedicated and meticulous work ethic, which significantly reduces errors.

Lucien: However... (chuckle) Many times, science does indeed encounter unforeseeable things.

Hearing him say that, I also became curious.

Our gazes met, and we captured remarkably similar emotions in each other's eyes.

MC: How about we go there too—!

=Flashback End=

MC: But I've been exercising so diligently, taking the oral solution as prescribed, and yet I still got altitude sickness. It's frustrating.

MC: I saved time by taking a plane, only to spend it all on the bed…

Lucien: (chuckle) It's alright, we're not in a hurry to leave. Let's rest a bit more.

He adjusts the pillow, making me lie more comfortably, then leans down to gently kiss the corner of my mouth.

Lucien: Don't worry, I can always be your "oxygen" whenever you need it.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Part 2]

MC: I'm revived—!

After a night of rest, I feel much more refreshed the next day.

Lucien: Don't push yourself too hard. If you're feeling uncomfortable anywhere, make sure to let me know promptly.

MC: Got it. Once I get in the car, I'll cling to the oxygen tank.

I smile and sit in the passenger seat of the off-road vehicle that Lucien had rented in advance. Holding a small oxygen concentrator, I playfully shake my head at him.

Lucien also smiles, and we officially embark on our impromptu journey of curiosity.

Because of our unique random drawing system, we aren't heading to various popular attractions.

One of the destinations is Namtso Lake, where Luo Ke often goes, and the other is a snowy mountain selected by me through a random number selection.

The straight highway stretches forward, piercing through the distant expanse of blue sky.

The vast wilderness extends, and large masses of cumulus clouds join the surging herd of cattle, painting an exceptionally magnificent "Running Bulls".

The distant snow-covered mountains gradually impress upon the retina, resembling a distant and graceful maiden. The staggered peaks have been carved with fine craftsmanship, creating soft and graceful diagonal lines.

The deep and light sapphire blue blends from beneath the mountain peaks to above the sky, mingling in the middle and accentuating the pure white with a sense of sanctity.

I can't help but take a breath, letting this indescribable beauty fill my entire field of vision.

MC: When I was watching the video, I could probably guess why someone would choose to come here so many times.

MC: But now I completely feel it.

MC: The scenery on the way to Namtso Lake is also incredibly beautiful!

Lucien: Perhaps I should remind this classmate that our journey has only just begun.

He lightly presses the accelerator, and the vast land in the uninhabited area gradually sheds all its splendor, revealing its simple exterior.

And a vast expanse of blue quickly appears before my eyes.

MC: Are we almost there?

The vast world brings everything close as if it was always this near.

Lucien: Don't rush, there's still some distance to go.

Lucien: The place Luo Ke visited before is now closed, so we need to find another convenient place to stay.

The winding road leads us along the snow-capped mountains, revealing their magnificence even more. We drive alongside them, receiving a sense of being overlooked quietly.

After going through a somewhat bumpy road, Lucien temporarily parks the car on the side of the road and opens the carried drone.

And I carefully step out of the car, the cool and thin air making me slightly breathless, but it doesn't diminish my enthusiasm in the slightest.

While adjusting the frequency of my breaths, I take a few steps toward the vast bay of the lake.

Layer upon layer of mountains stands above the sea of blue, towering into the clouds.

The world seems to have turned into a sacred palette, where the Creator has reserved the purest colors for this place, bringing serenity to all things.

It's an exceptionally wonderful feeling, everything in front of me seems so distant and immense.

And my small self becomes like a grain of sand on a tidal flat, a drop of water in the lake, gazing up and silently embraced within it.

I unconsciously slowed down my breath. I turn my head and notice that Lucien had appeared by my side at some point.

His gaze is distant, reaching toward the far horizon. The subtle snowy backdrop frames him as if it's also blending him into this pure scenery.

Perhaps sensing my gaze, Lucien turns his face and looks into my eyes.

For a moment, neither of us speaks, as if words are the least significant part of our gaze.

His fingertips gently stroke up, like delicately traced kisses.

I don't know if it's because of this ethereal world, but I feel a certain piousness in his touch.

MC: Being able to come here with you and see these landscapes, there's nothing better than this.

Lucien: I should say, it's you who brought this unparalleled beauty to me.

MC: So your sleeping bag is for sleeping directly in the car?

MC: I thought you were only going to use it for a quick nap in the car.

As the sky darkens, after Lucien finds a place to park the car, I watch in surprise as he takes out a spare coat and sleeping bag, then folds down the back seats of the off-road vehicle.

Lucien: (chuckle) That was the original plan. I just changed my mind suddenly.

Lucien: Don't worry, its thickness is enough to keep both of us warm.

MC: I'm not worried about that at all. I was just wondering why Professor Lucien suddenly wanted to change the plan.

He simply smiles and hugs me, both of us slipping into the sleeping bag together.

Lucien: Although we came here out of curiosity, this journey belongs to us.

Lucien: I also want to be with you, to see more of the extraordinary beauty together.

MC: But it's not easy to see the scenery.

The air is chilly, and in the pitch-black darkness, I can't help but snuggle closer into Lucien's embrace.

Lucien: (chuckles) I suppose all beautiful things require sufficient time and effort to gradually form.

Lucien: Regardless, it's a pity that you didn't get to see the sunset at Namtso Lake, and even the stars have hidden themselves.

There's a rare touch of regret in his tone. Thick clouds obscure most of the sky, hastening the arrival of the night.

Outside the car window, there's an absolute silence. The heavy darkness fills the entire scene, not even a single starlight is visible.

It's as if everything has been gathered within this car, with the only exception being the gentle, faint interplay of light and shadows emanating from the car's display screen. The world outside has shut itself off, closing its windows to our view.

MC: But I did get to see such a unique night.

I lift my head from his shoulder with a smile, gazing into the hidden depths of his eyes.

MC: Spending the night like this in the wilderness is quite special too.

Lucien: I'm also glad to share such a miraculous experience with you.

Lucien: Although I've seen many landscapes, this kind of darkness appears especially beautiful.

MC: You're exaggerating. Professor Lucien can come here on his own too, right?

Lucien: (chuckles then speaks in a coquettish tone) It won't be the same.

He hugs me even tighter as if we too have melded together like the night.

Lucien: You have given them real significance, making them a sort of destiny.

Lucien: (softly) I think, there's nothing better than experiencing all of this together with you.

Even though everything is incredibly dark, I seem to see him more clearly, and he seems to see right through me as well.

MC: So many good things have happened around us. Maybe we've been blessed all along.

MC: Do you believe that?

Lucien: There's a possibility for the existence of everything that can't be proven, just as there's a possibility for their nonexistence.

MC: As expected of the rigorous Professor Lucien.

I smile and bury myself deeper into his embrace, feeling his familiar body temperature warming me amid this boundless cold.

MC: Then I hope I can see the miraculous "Golden Mountain" with you tomorrow morning.

MC: I hope that while we whisper our wishes, the snowy mountains can hear them and allow us to witness even more beauty together.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

But the snowy mountains seem to only want to listen to our whispers.

The thick clouds densely conceal the endless expanse of snowy white behind them, and the morning air is bone-chillingly cold.

The thin air forces me to hold onto the small portable oxygen device, shivering while stubbornly keeping my eyes wide open.

The scene in my field of vision is gradually brightening, but it's still a vast expanse of emptiness.

Amidst that magnificent landscape, we haven't witnessed a more wondrous scene.

Many times, the world is simply unreasonable.

MC: What a pity. If we had witnessed the "Golden Mountain" by the shores of Lake Namtso, it would have surely made us feel incredibly lucky.

MC: However, even though Professor Luo Ke has come so many times, he only caught a glimpse of it. And his experimental results still seem to be quite good.

MC: (smiles) So it's no problem, it's not that we have bad luck, we just don't have luck that's good enough.

On the road back, symptoms of altitude sickness paid me another visit.

After taking pain relievers, I lie a little bit dizzily in the passenger seat, my mouth couldn't help but mutter.

Lucien: This kind of randomness is quite interesting too, isn't it?

Lucien: We don't know when or in what circumstances we will encounter the most beautiful scenery.

Lucien smiled and there was no regret in his tone.

In the receding scenery, he looks so serene.

Lucien: The world would seem to be a much less interesting place if human beings could achieve their goals every time they beat their brains out.

MC: But even if not everything goes as planned, wouldn't you feel regret if most of your expectations couldn't be met?

Lucien: For me what's intriguing is the unknown.

Lucien: The outcome is merely a stepping stone toward the next unknown.

Lucien: Moreover... if most expectations aren't met, I believe there are more important things to consider than just feeling regret.

MC: Um?

He turns his head seemingly seriously, there’s a faint teasing glint in his eyes.

Lucien: Perhaps I should consider whether I need to change my job.

Lucien: Because unexpectedly, most of the outcomes have been failures.

I can't help but laugh, and all the unseen regrets are diluted at this moment.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

We chat and laugh all the way, the endless road carrying boundless conversations, accompanied by the clouds floating in the sky.

And I gradually relaxed, enjoying this journey with Lucien more peacefully.

Back at the hotel, we had a good night's sleep. The next day, we woke up early, full of energy, and drove to the next destination.

The number of cars on the road decreases as we go, and the journey becomes bumpier. We are like solitary yet content explorers, walking on a path that belongs only to us.

MC: …Strange, according to the map, the sacred mountain should be nearby, right? Did we take a wrong turn?

After navigating numerous twists and turns, I still haven't spotted our destination outside the window.

Lucien: MC, look up.

MC: Um?

I instinctively lift my head, and a blanket of pure white emerges in grandeur after a turn, suddenly filling the entire horizon.

Snow and clouds shroud the mysterious pyramid-like structure, while the clear sky-blue reflects on the mountain's contours, rendering it incredibly serene and sacred.

But that was just a blink of an eye in our journey.

When the car finally comes to a stop at the base of the outer lake, the world suddenly changes its complexion. Fine snowflakes are whisked into the air between the mountains, swiftly guiding us into a nearby guesthouse.

The room is relatively simple, but it's enough to shelter us from the wind and snow.

There aren't many other guests besides us, and the owner warmly welcomes us, bringing us warm milk.

I lean against the window, and the snow-capped mountains outside are already submerged in clouds and the feather-like flurry, making it impossible to see any features.

Lucien: (chuckle) This classmate might turn into a little snowman.

A gentle touch of fingertips brushes against my brow, smoothing out the creases there.

Afterward, a piece of clothing wraps around me, creating a barrier against the lingering cold air in the room.

MC: If I turn into a little snowman, can I reason with the snowy mountains then?

Lucien: The snowy mountains might not have control over the weather either.

He smiles, wearing a similar ethnic attire that he just gave to me, and nestles beside me.

MC: What is this?

Lucien: The weather grew colder. Although our clothes were warm enough, I borrowed two more pieces of clothing from the owner.

Lucien: Because I hope to be more than just a "guest" here with you.

He brushes aside my hair and helps me fasten the robe and belt.

Lucien: (chuckle) Let me accompany you in becoming a little snowman here.

Lucien: Blizzard or sunshine, it doesn't matter.

Lucien: They are all just a part of our life.

His voice is gentle, falling softly like the snow.

I understand what Lucien means, so I gaze at him for a moment and then immediately raise the corners of my mouth, affectionately tidying his clothes.

Suddenly, I remembered something and took out a ribbon from my backpack.

MC: Then we should try to blend in more with the local customs!

Lucien: When did you secretly buy this?

Lucien: (chuckle) I thought you were resting well the whole time, except when you were with me.

MC: Hehe, since you can take care of renting the car and various matters, it's okay for me to buy a little gift, right?

I smile and ask him to turn around. I gently stroke the soft hair at the nape of his neck.

Strands of silky hair twine around my fingertips, gleaming with a beautiful luster against the snowy backdrop.

MC: Your hair has grown quite long.

Lucien: I hope this little travel preparation will also make you happy.

MC: (laughs) So Professor Lucien even planned for this.

MC: But my preparation is on point too. I specifically learned braiding techniques for this region online.

The ribbon is woven through the small braids at the ends of his hair, and the end of each braid is adorned with a neat little knot tied with beads.

I place the headband on his forehead and hold his cheeks, looking at him repeatedly with a little smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.

Lucien: (chuckles and smiles with curved eyes) Are you satisfied?

MC: Couldn't be more satisfied!

It's as if my smile has infected him too. He then takes out a particularly unique headpiece and ribbons from his own backpack.

MC: How did you…?

Lucien: I can only say that our tacit understanding has always been like this.

He turns my body around, lifting my hair and slipping his fingers through it.

In the distance, the sacred mountain stands serenely, while snowflakes continue to drift down.

Lucien quietly holds and touches my hair.

At this moment, I can't see his face, but there's an incomparably sincere feeling of being touched tenderly and devoutly.

MC: I hope tomorrow will be good weather.

MC: And I can see the special "Golden Mountain" with you.

Lucien: This classmate seems to be more persistent than I imagined.

MC: Because... I want to see all the miraculous things in this world with you.

I lower my head, playing with the crimson bead strings, and surprisingly, I don't feel any urgency. Instead, a sense of tranquility fills me.

MC: Because this is something that only requires luck, just like the Northern Lights we witnessed together back then.

MC: A koi fish, a wonder... it's as if encountering these brings a bit of good luck.

MC: I hope the koi fish always jumps into your arms, and all the good luck can favor you.

MC: Even things that cannot be proven, may they stand by your side.

A pair of arms encircle my waist, gently pulling me back and drawing me into his embrace.

Lucien: (chuckles tenderly) Silly girl.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The snow and wind continue unabated.

The next day the sky is still filled with snow, and the possibility of seeing a sunrise is unlikely.

My heart is filled with regret, but I still muster my energy and get up. As I consider today's plans, I search for Lucien's figure.

MC: Lucien?

As I push open the door, in this world of pure white, everything comes rushing towards me—

Falling snowflakes, fluttering prayer flags, and the tinkling bells hanging from the yak's neck fill all of my senses all at once.

I stand there in a daze, gazing at those eyes that are as silent as this world, coming towards me from within the snow.

The incessant heavy snow falls onto his Tibetan robe, and he, like a figure from a painting, pulls the reins as the wind blows.

The swaying bells ring melodiously and echo in the mountains as if they are the melody of wind and snow.

Thin golden light bathes the mountain peaks, outlining the continuous undulating contours of the landscape in varying shades.

Like a divine oracle, pointing toward the end of the world.

Lucien: I seem to have heard you calling me.

At that moment, I felt a sense of relief, as if it didn't matter whether I saw the "Golden Mountain" or not.

Because I have already seen the God that came upon my call.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Part 4]

So it turns out Lucien went to explore the path ahead while the snow was lighter.

Lucien: I went to the side of the outer lake to take a look, but I still couldn't see much.

MC: It's okay, I think this is fine too.

Watching the swirling snow, I know that there probably won't be much of a chance today, but my mood is particularly relaxed.

MC: Isn't it nice to walk under the snow-capped mountains like this, accompanied by the light snowfall?

MC: And today is also the Qixi Festival. It feels like we're doing something particularly dreamy.

Lucien: I think what's really dreamy is something else.

He smiles and takes my hand, stepping on the light snow, and slowly walking in the mountains.

The world is covered by a layer of white dust, flying, quietly settling, gathering, and extending far into the pure white depths.

Between heaven and earth, there is no constraint in looking up or down.

Round and round, we finally return to the foot of the sacred mountain by the outer lake.

The lake is profound and unfathomable, holding sediments for countless years.

The wind stirs layers of ripples as we gaze across the lake, looking at the mountain hidden in clouds and mist as if looking at the gods hidden behind.

Countless ineffable emotions surge within my heart, leaving me only able to silently experience this brilliance and grandeur.

MC: Indeed, a lot of scenery is best experienced firsthand.

Lucien: I suppose this is probably the essence of traveling.

MC: We'll definitely come back here again in the future, right?

Lucien: Definitely.

Upon hearing his resolute response, I laughed softly.

I reverently place my hands together, raising them to my chest.

At this moment, my heart is tranquil. As I subconsciously pray, Lucien's name naturally appears in my heart.

I hope everything goes smoothly for him, his health remains strong, and he is safe and worry-free.

I hope he will never lose his curiosity about this world.

I hope he will knock on the doors to truth and reach even farther places.

I silently express in my heart; if there are truly unspeakable things in the world, I hope they can hear my wishes in this closest place to them.

Until suddenly, I feel a pair of warm palms covering the back of my hand.

I don't open my eyes, but for some reason, I know he is doing the same thing with me.

Even though I know he doesn't believe in anything, he has also made wishes with me countless times.

But now, will you still pray with me?

What will you pray to them for?

At this moment, everything seems to be quiet, as if wishing to carry the sounds of the world to even more distant realms.

But Lucien doesn't consider himself a believer in prayer.

The world is full of countless mysteries waiting to be explored and answered, and until accurate answers are found, he cares not the names humans bestow upon them.

Gods, heavens, destiny…

Even so, he's not sure of the reason, but there's always an incredibly real feeling of being touched gently and reverently by the girl.

As if cradled within the softness of her heart, embraced in her current prayer.

He feels that he is being blessed and protected.

An immensely heavy emotion burgeons within him at this moment, spreading to every part of his body, making him feel warm all over.

He can't help but close his eyes and press his forehead against the top of her head.

'I know that there must be things in the world that are unknowable.'

'I never set my heart on those illusory protections and blessings, only hoping for those silent bystanders to witness our smooth and winding journey through life.'

'But if there truly is something that can hear the sound of prayers, I hope they can give her a miracle.'

At that moment, he couldn't help but pray.

I slowly open my eyes, meeting Lucien's gaze, and we both break into laughter together.

MC: Lucien, just now the gods have already promised me that they will bless and protect you well.

Lucien: But I feel like I'm already being well blessed and protected by you.

MC: Then you just keep moving forward, you will definitely reach the place you hope for.

A tender kiss lands on my lips, devout and affectionate.

A fleeting moment can be engraved as if it were a thousand years, frozen in the gaze of the snow mountains.

At some point, the wind and snow stopped, and a subtle red tinted the area behind Lucien.

MC: How come the snow has turned red because of you…

As soon as my words fall, both Lucien and I suddenly freeze in place.

As Lucien turns around to reveal a vast expanse of vision, we witness a miracle.

Threads of golden light spill down, burning into the clouds and landing on the finally unveiled mountaintop.

As rows of clouds surge, that magnificent glow spreads across the mountain peak, turning red and then bright, casting a solemn aura over the sacred summit.

That touch of favor from the sun and the divine now fully rests before us.

The golden mountain is so vast, so bright, and even the floating clouds seem to bow their heads in reverence, offering all their respect, leaving only its radiance in the expanse of the sky.

I lost all words, only able to stare blankly at everything before me.

My gaze unintentionally becomes blurred, watching that intense deep red gradually transform into soft red, then quietly fade away.

Until that red light disappears, and the world falls silent once again.

The moment just now felt like a miracle.

MC: Lucien…

I excitedly throw myself onto him. Even though that scene was fleeting, it was enough to make me feel happy.

MC: We've seen it! We've seen the golden mountain!

MC: Something good is definitely going to happen!

He looks towards the mountain peak that has once again disappeared from sight, then looks at me.

He uses his fingertip to gently wipe away the tears in my eyes, then bends down to kiss my cheek, again and again.

In those deep eyes, I see the same emotions.

Sudden travel, random choices, silent scenery... Countless coincidences link together to become some kind of destiny.

Lucien: Probably since a long time ago…

Lucien: You've become my miracle itself.

[Post-Evolve phone call- Lab Koi]

youtube

[Karma Bonus Moments- Boundless]

Lucien's post: The magic of the world lies in the fact that amidst doubt and disappointment, anything is possible.

MC's reply: So, is it really possible that there's a "god" who can hear all our prayers?

Lucien: Perhaps there is some kind of "rule" that if two people love each other enough, all their wishes can come true.

Lucien's post: The magic of the world lies in the fact that amidst doubt and disappointment, anything is possible.

MC's reply: But what if nothing happens at all?

Lucien: Then it's just one of the many faces it's showing us.

Lucien's post: The magic of the world lies in the fact that amidst doubt and disappointment, anything is possible.

MC's reply: I hope that the direction it happens to be in is just the way you expect.

Lucien: I think that even if the world doesn't always align with our wishes, I'll remember your words and calmly navigate through every failure.

[Lux’s Rambling Corner]

What a very touching date🥺 I literally cried the first time I read them lmao. Both the art and writing of this date are truly exceptional, exceeding all my expectations. Perhaps it’s true that love has the power to create miracles and shape destinies.

I think the date tackle some heavy themes and questions. Are things like Gods or Heavens exist? and whether it's meaningful to pray for them without concrete proof. It also delves into the concept of human insignificance in the vast universe and the limits of our understanding. I believe this date provides satisfying and respectful approach to these questions. Although we can't know the absolute truth about such mysteries, it's perfectly fine to explore various possibilities. Praying or believing in such thing is okay because there's nothing wrong with taking more possibilities with your hand. While our time in this world is short and we might feel insignificant in the universe, it's comforting to follow your heart and make the most of every fleeting moment. Even a fleeting moment can be engraved as if it were a thousand years.

Regarding their interactions and dynamic in this date, the aspect that really struck me was how they view each other as something beyond humans, yet also manage to protect and care for one another in a very human way by praying. MC’s prayer is really touching, because you just can feel how much she just wishes to protect him and make him happy, his prayer even includes her wish for him to continue his curiosity; to find what he’s searching for; and, it’s just- very special you know? Because it shows how much she understands him and loves everything that makes him ‘Lucien’. And against rationality and logic, Lucien prays for her simply because he believes that she deserves all the good things in the world. What she wishes for, if there truly is god in the world, he hopes that god will realize her wish.

Still, the object of his devotion isn't the divine but his beloved. Because in his eyes, it’s her love that’s been blessing and protecting him all this time. This devotion is mutual, and it can be said that they’re each other's 'God' and believer. For her, Lucien is a 'God' that came upon her call, came from the snow and led her to see the golden mountain through wind and snow. While for Lucien, she is his cherished 'God', blessing him and letting him see color, allowing him to appreciate the beauty of the world in its fullest, and his ‘connection’ to the world.

This mutual devotion also shows through the repeated use of the term虔诚 (which translates to 'devout' or 'reverent' or ‘pious’) to describe their touches and I just- *died* everytime PG uses it. In other instances they also humanize the other, grounding them in the reality that they’re also humans that might experience failures and setbacks from time to time, but it’s totally okay of course, after all those are perhaps what makes life interesting. Anyway, this dynamic of humanizing and divinizing each other is a truly special aspect of their relationship and I can’t help but love them more for it.

Besides the aspect that I mentioned above, Lucien taking care of sick MC and their constant setbacks also add more bittersweet touch to this date. Lucien taking care of MC in particular, kind of gives me flashbacks of Distant Similarity UR. Lucien initially takes all of the responsibilities himself and MC reminds him again that he shouldn’t shoulder everything himself never fails to hurt me :”. And their constant setbacks… albeit a bit cliche, it’s also their brand to have angst with a happy ending right- That part when they accept that perhaps it’s simply not their luck to see the golden mountain is really melancholic yet also hopeful. Things might not go as planned, but it’s okay. Because as long as they have each other everything is good and there will always be the chance to try it again next time.

Other than those scenes, their interactions in this date are definitely brimming with sweetness and tenderness, from Lucien being certified love brain™ by letting her to change his phone case into something cute and childish while not caring what his colleagues think, ‘oxygen tank’ lucien (heh-), being two little snowmen together and my little fav scene when they have tacit understanding, it's as if they have this soul-deep connection and are able to communicate heart to heart, when Lucien somehow knows that she will do that and deliberately grow mullet for her to braid. Their mutual gift of headpieces and ribbon... when they braid each other hair, there's this magical feeling when they do that. It's as if they have this soul-deep connection and be able to communicate through heart 🥹.

Truly 10/10 date. I would put it on S tier with no second thought. If you read until this far- thank you so much for reading ahah. Hopefully y'all enjoy this date as much as I do~

#DIDN'T EXPECT IT TO BE THIS GOOD OMG???#THE CONCEPT OF LUCIEN OUT OF ALL PEOPLE PRAYING IS JUST SO *GOOD* there's nothing he won't do for her sob sob #it's the MUTUAL DEVOTION #mlqc lucien #mr love queen's choice #mlqc cn #mlqc spoiler #mlqc #mlqc translation #mr. love queen's choice #mr love lucien #mlqc xu mo #Youtube

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