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ittybittyfanblog · 7 months ago

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Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition) – Pt. 7

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus and a player. That’s it, that’s the plot. Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, self-aware!au, strong language, suggestive themes!, there’s some slight smut… but nothing too graphic (ion rly write smut haha), angst and comfort, this chapter’s brought to you by: a bunch of sad songs on repeat! A/N: 7k+ words what the fuck!! (this might actually be one of my favorite chapters. :’))

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 - Pt. 5 - Pt. 6 - Pt. 7 - Pt. 8 - Pt. 9 - Pt. 10 - Epilogue

“You don’t have a favorite color.”

“I… don’t, no.”

“But you’re quite partial to green.”

“I guess so—?”

“You’ve worn the same green shirt to bed thrice this week,” he notes lightly, pertaining to your Loki: Master of Mischief tee. The corners of his mouth pull into a faint, knowing smile. “It suits you, by the way.”

Your fingers hover over the keyboard as you glance at him, narrowing your eyes in slight embarrassment. “It’s a perfectly comfy shirt,” you reply, a defensive edge to your tone. “Nothing wrong with that.”

“Nothing at all,” he agrees reassuringly. “Just making an observation.”

“What, are you keeping a dossier on me now?”

Sylus gives a noncommittal hum, but offers nothing more in response. He keeps watch on you from his usual spot in the corner between the monitor and the CPU box, chin resting on an open palm. His gaze betrays hints of smugness to it.

You eye him weirdly. With a huff, you turn back to your typing.

–

You’re cooking dinner—with Sylus supervising the entire thing like your very own personal sous chef. Something that has now been the norm for you two, since your–banging!–success with the tofu dish.

And for tonight’s menu: Butter noodles. Simple, foolproof, straightforward.

"Simple" is… well, it’s not entirely inaccurate. But the way that the boiling water hisses angrily through the small lid hole wavers the already shaky foundation of your developing culinary confidence.

(Just a little bit! You’re sure you’ve got nothing to worry about.)

A faint burning scent clings to the air; you forgot to stir the garlic early on, and now it looks dangerously close to a char. You rescue it just in time, cursing under your breath. Your sous chef, of course, catches everything. Even your nervousness.

“You know,” Sylus chimes in, watching the wooden spatula tremble in your hand. “This is quite the step up from your usual instant noodle packets. You should be proud of yourself, sweetie.”

“Gee, thanks. Really complex work for an extra half-hour of cooking time,” Your words are snide, but he doesn’t miss the way your grip on the spatula tightens ever-so-slightly. Steadies.

The smell stabilizes. You add half a stick of butter, squashing it to a melt, and he lets the subject drop—for now.

“Do you have siblings?”

“I have an older sister,” you answer distractedly, stirring the sauce and trying to scrape the edges of the sauté pan without having it splatter from the inside.

“How much older?”

“Uh—six years,” you reply, reaching for a pinch of salt. “She's got a family. Two kids. Another on the way.”

“Hm. You two are close?”

You pause, the question landing softly in the haze of rising steam. “I mean. S’ alright, I guess. We catch up over the phone sometimes.”

“Ah. Good.”

“... Yeah.”

You catch a glance of his expression in your peripheral, looking thoughtful.

It’s a recent development, his curiosity. Sporadic at first, like light rain on a windshield—little questions scattered here and there, easy to brush off. But over the past week, it’s grown into something more unrelenting. It’s almost as if you two were playing a round of twenty questions, only it’s just you in the hot seat being interrogated.

There’s also that habit of his to take it one step further. Hedging his questions strategically, acting like he already knows the little factoid he wanted to ask and just needs you to confirm it.

You don’t really get the logic behind it, but hey, who are you to judge? Everybody has their quirks. Even someone of his caliber, apparently.

… God forbid he gets blindsided by something he’s genuinely surprised to know about you, though.

“You know how to play the violin.”

You pause the video you’re watching on your laptop at its five minute mark to stare at Sylus through your phone screen. He sounds… terse? Like you’d intentionally kept this a secret from him.

“Wha—yes, I know how to play the violin,” you huff, incredulous by the show of attitude. “What’s up with all these weird questions?”

“You’ve given me explicit permission to ask them. Level the playing field,” he reminds you, eyes slightly accusatory. “What else are you keeping from me?”

You groan, collapsing onto your back on the couch. “Ugh, I don’t know,” you say sarcastically. “Do you wanna know my time of birth too?”

“Born at exactly twelve twenty-eight PM,” Sylus recites without missing a beat, his voice bored and unimpressed. “I saw it on your Co-Star app, sweetie.”

You freeze.

“…”

“That’s creepy,” you tell him, tone disapproving, giving him a scolding poke on the nose.

“Call it thorough research,” he counters smoothly, rolling his eyes at your feeble attack. “After all, a stubborn kitten’s been slacking on her side of the deal.”

The questions are, for the most part, harmless in nature. Anchored firmly in the mundane. He doesn’t stray too far from what’s comfortable, or what he deems safe to ask. And yet you can sense it beneath the surface: the burning curiosity. To know more of you, to take what he could; piece by piece, until he’s unraveled the puzzle of you entirely.

And you don’t get it. His world—filled with endless adventure, lore, and literal fucking superpowers—surely has to be more exciting than anything you’ve got to offer. What’s your life compared to that?

You said as much to him, mostly as an offhand comment. Although it did feel slightly more earnest when you put it into words, compared to how it sounded in your head.

“Honestly, Sy-Sy. Life here’s really not that interesting compared to all the stuff going on over there,” you told him matter-of-factly, in the middle of collecting your daily rewards. “You don’t have to keep this up, you know.”

Sylus didn’t speak for a moment. The easy nonchalance he wore so well shifted into something more reserved, almost somber. He didn’t challenge what you said, nor did he affirm anything; you're met with silence, loaded with thoughts left unspoken.

“Don’t presume things on your own, little dove,” he said after a while, his voice low, a gentle reprimand.

Before you could even process what he meant by that, he smoothly changed the subject, his tone reverting back to his usual effortless calm as if to ease the weight of your words. “Now then, let’s circle back—what were you saying earlier? You almost drowned in a lake when you were eight? Because of a dare you made with your sister?”

And that was the end of it.

You tell yourself it’s exhausting – the way he keeps digging, prodding, asking questions like you’re worth the level of fascination he’s making you out to be. But there’s also the truth, hidden and tucked beneath your half-hearted protests, slowly unfurling. A part of you—cautiously hopeful, dreadfully fragile—that preens under the weight of his scrutiny.

So you let him press further; let him sift through twenty plus years of tiny, unremarkable fragments of your life like a beachcomber seeking treasures amongst the tide. And in return, he gives you his full attention, undivided and unyielding, as if your answers are the only ones that matter.

––––

He tells you there’s a new tête-à-tête feature in the game, so you check it out – not without giving him a slightly suspicious look.

“A microphone feature?” You snort, leveling him with a half-amused glare. “You already hear me talk all the time.”

Sylus blinks at you, his face a guilefully-crafted mask of innocence. “I’m just giving you the option, sweetie. You know, in case you’d like to put our conversations ‘on record.’”

“Treat you like some kind of… quasi-therapist or something? An online confessional?” You give him the stink eye. “Is that what you’re angling for now?”

He shrugs. “If it helps.”

You had no intention of using the tête-à-tête “feature” you’ve been so graciously offered, quickly dismissing it as just another one of his tactics to show off his capacity to manipulate the game’s code, or something along those lines.

It’s not the first time he’s done it.

But then, midnight comes on a deceptively ordinary Friday, and it’s suffused with an all-too familiar feeling of utter emptiness that drowns you. You’re crumpled on the toilet seat like chewed-up gum, knees pulled to your chest, the day’s wounds still festering. It's not anything new, but it leaves you feeling like shit all the same.

Yet another overtime shift. Yet another argument with your mom, over fuck all you know that you’re too damn old for, but still, still, finds its way to cut deep. Over and over, and over again.

Your phone’s blank screen stares back at you, just as mute and useless as the rest of the night. And you—

“Sweetie?”

You can’t speak. Not yet. But you don’t have to. One look at the exhaustion on your face is enough for Sylus to know exactly what you need.

Your mouth trembles open, then shuts again. He doesn’t say anything else, just waiting for you to make the first move. To start whenever you’re ready.

After a long moment, you finally exhale a shaky breath. That’s when you catch his gaze; fixed, patient, almost... encouraging. It’s a subtle invitation, urging you to take the plunge, to make use of him to an extent only he can provide–the only one he could offer to you at this time–

So, you talk. Tentatively at first, the words slipping out like droplets from your leaking sink faucet. But once the dam breaks, you can't stop.

It spills out. Every frustration, every ache, every moment that feels too much to carry for one person, especially for someone like you, and he… he just—

listens.

You feel drained. Every ounce of energy wrung out of you after unloading the day’s weight to your unexpected confidant.

“That helped, didn’t it?”

If it were anyone else – or if you didn’t know Sylus the way you do now – you’d only catch the smug notes in his voice. The teasing lilt and the airy pretense of someone trying to ease the heaviness out of the room.

But you do hear it. Beneath the surface, woven so subtly into the words… something vulnerable.

You hear the unspoken question behind it: he’s genuinely asking if it helped. If his presence, however small or inconsequential it might seem, was enough to pull you back ashore.

I helped.

Tell me I did.

“You did, Sy.” Your grin is tired, grateful, and a little lopsided. But it’s real. “Thank you.”

For a moment—just a split of a second—the red in his eyes betrays something achingly raw.

“Anytime, darling,” he says, his voice quieter now, rough around the edges, like it’s carrying more than the words themselves. “I mean it.”

And like a beacon of light slicing through the storm-tossed seas of your mind, you realize that he truly does.

____

You start giving Sylus the reins to select the music, trusting his taste enough to let him DJ for you. He picks the soundtrack for everything—cooking, errands, long rides—filling the silence with something that he knows the both of you would like.

The playlists grow. From one, to two, to almost an entire collection of carefully curated tracks to suit the mood and vibe of the day. He takes it seriously—so seriously that you can’t resist sneaking in a Megan Thee Stallion track onto his precious “Slow Evenings” playlist.

He finds it hilarious. Hilarious enough to loop Kitty Kat for all sixty-five minutes of your commute back home.

You laugh despite yourself. It’s exactly the type of shit you know he’d pull as petty retribution, already intimately familiar with his brand of humor. And if you close your eyes, you can almost imagine him beside you, sharing an earbud, smirking as he revels in your exasperation.

____

One night, you notice a weariness in his eyes. It’s an odd enough thing to see that it leads to a discussion on what he’s been up to as the shadowy leader of a notorious faction, deep in a lawless part of his universe.

“Just an operation gone wrong, sweetie,” he says with a sigh, rubbing a temple as though trying to physically push the stress away. “It happens.”

You press him on the details of the botched deal—and maybe, just maybe, a small part of you is excited to live vicariously through the tale. But it’s not about you this time, you remind yourself. So you listen as Sylus indulges every question you throw at him, giving you the play-by-play: what the deal was for (special, hard-to-get protocores), where the trade-off occurred (west of Charon), and how it all went sideways (he knew it was a set-up the moment he walked into the venue).

You don’t really know how to comfort him in a situation like this, but you want to try.

In an attempt to lighten the mood, you joke, “Can you imagine clumsy, ol’ me there? I’d be dead before I even make it inside.”

Sylus freezes, his expression going still. Unreadable.

“No, you won’t.” He says in response to the second part of what you just said, his tone brooking no doubt. He says it with such intense conviction that you almost believe this exact hypothetical has already crossed his mind—more than once.

I won’t let you.

Before you can even think of what to say, he adds, quieter this time, but no less convinced: “And yes—I can.”

It’s a direct answer to your question, and it makes the words die in your throat. His voice is softer now too, but there’s no mistaking his tone. It has the same conviction from before, and it hits you that he’s had time to ruminate on this thought—more times than he’d care to admit.

And I do. You have no idea.

____

There’s another shift in the dynamic of your, well, relationship.

“Did you hear what I said, poppet?”

You snap back to meet his inquiring gaze, unwavering as always.

“Sorry, can you repeat that?” You ask, the apology clear in your eyes.

He huffs, shaking his head in amusement—always patient, never annoyed—at your inattentiveness. “What’s on your mind, my sweet?”

Well. That.

Lately, Sylus has gotten into the habit of using possessive pronouns like they’re nothing. There’s also a notable increase on the variation of pet names too, each one more layered than the last.

It’s a little excessive, honestly. Like he’s trying to compensate for something—or maybe he sees it as just another natural step in whatever’s going on between you two. You’re still not sure what exactly goes in his head. He’s always been an enigma to you.

And yet, you never put a stop to it. How could you?

Little dove. Sweet girl. My darling.

When it comes off his lips like sunkist honey—each one brings a jolt straight to your heart.

You're quite partial to one in particular.

My love.

____

“Oh, my love,” Sylus tuts, feigning concern. “You’ve snoozed that alarm five times already.”

You groan, hitting the snooze button again—number six now—burying your face in your arms on the desk.

____

You’re attending a despedida party for a friend who’s flying abroad to study (For a PhD in Biomedical Science! You couldn’t be more proud.) and the venue’s going to be at The Penthouse, somewhere fancy up north. It even has an infinity pool on deck, something the celebrant dropped into the group chat with far too much enthusiasm.

So, earlier today, you’d ventured out to buy something nice for yourself. Nicer than what you have in the closet, which isn’t much of a stretch. Something different than your usual rotation of plaids and band shirts—not that there’s anything wrong with them. They’re just… you. Comfortable. Predictable. Not exactly the dress code for a rooftop soirée.

Now, you’re back home from a successful (!) trip to the mall, bags in hand: a small gift for your friend on one arm and a much larger shopping bag on the other.

You set the gift gently on the coffee table. Then, you head to the bathroom, the grosgrain ribbon of a paper tote held tight in your fist.

The pretty fabric caught your eye almost immediately, the moment you saw the garment; its sheen almost like woven liquid in the light. It felt like a risk, even on the rack. But under the unforgiving glare of your bathroom bulb?

Well, now, it’s looking less of a “bold choice,” and more along the lines of: “damn, what were you thinking?”

It’s not that big of a deal or anything. You like feeling pretty. But at the same time, you haven’t deluded yourself into thinking that you’re anything above average to look at, even on the nicest occasions.

It’s something you’ve grown used to, a definitive truth ingrained deep in your bones. You know this – just like you know gravity tethers you to the ground, even when you’d rather be carried away by the wind some days. You’ve gone through more than a decade to accept it as just another fact of life, to make peace with the reflection staring back at you from the bathroom mirror.

Even if it means you’ll never be on the receiving end of ‘interested’ glances from strangers on the street. Or that you’ve never known the feeling of someone doing a double take when they see you at your best, all dolled-up. More than once, you’ve sat across from dates whose eyes wandered—toward some other, someone better-looking, in restaurants, at parks, even outside the movies. Everywhere past your direction.

But that’s okay. You’re used to it, the same way you’ve grown used to everything else.

And still, there’s that impulse—a sudden need for someone else’s opinion. Someone close. Someone that matters.

There’s a pang of fear you can’t quite shake. You hear the small voice from the deep recesses of your mind, whispering to you that it’s one of your worse ideas. That you’ll fall short of any and all expectations, and that it’ll hurt more this time around. You’ll hear the polite, “you look nice” and you’re gonna have to live with the quiet certainty that you don’t, not really, and that you’ll never quite measure up to what he’s used to seeing. To her—

You swallow hard. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t do that to you. Not outwardly, at least.

And if he did… Well.

“I bought something,” you say as an opener, the words tumbling out in a rush as soon as you get a glimpse of his form on the screen. You’re rocking back on your heel, a little awkward as you stand there in front of your small vanity table even with your phone laid flat, front camera pointing upwards. “You remember the going-away party I’ll be attending two days from now, right?”

“Of course, the one for your secondary school batchmate.” Sylus replies easily, voice reverberating through the tinny speakers. Even at an angle, you can see the confused tilt of his head. “Is it on the ceiling, sweetie? What am I looking at, exactly?”

“No, smartass. I—” You press your lips together, eyes flitting upward, as if courage might be dangling from the ceiling in question.

Fuck, this is a bad idea. I can’t do this.

“It’s– I bought something for myself. I mean, I bought her a gift too, obviously. But I also bought an outfit. For the party.”

There.

He blinks, and you can almost see the gears turning in his head. Realization dawns on his face, a knowing smile beginning to form. His voice dips, a teasing edge to it as he purrs, “Oh? Well then, save me from the suspense, sweetheart.”

“I–I’m getting to it, okay?” It comes out a little snappier than you intend, nerves flaring hot. You sigh, feeling your shoulders drop. “I’m just… Don’t be—ugh, just don’t make a big deal out of this, alright?”

You keep your eyes off the screen, unable to face him directly.

But when he speaks, his tone carries only a quiet understanding of your struggle.

Of course he understands. He always does.

He speaks; and it’s slow and measured—as if he’s coaxing a terrified, cornered animal out of hiding.

“Show me.” Trust me.

And so with a heavy exhale through the nose, you flip the front camera towards your direction, revealing the bare expanse of gooseflesh skin—

… And the flimsy one-piece that clings to your body like wet plastic.

It dips low between the valley of your breasts and stops short just halfway up your thigh. The material is a gauzy organza; see-through and light, in seafoam green. Barely leaving anything to the imagination as it reveals the dusky coral swimsuit from underneath the fabric and the hot flush that spreads across your chest like wildfire. Your fists clench and unclench behind your back – hiding the physical manifestation of your rising anxiety – while you shift your weight from one foot to the other.

There's a deafening silence.

The knots in your stomach grow tighter, creeping its way past your lungs. Your fingers tremble as cold sweat breaks out across your skin, chilling you from the inside. You feel horribly exposed. So exposed it’s almost unbearable.

And you still can’t bring yourself to look at him.

Your thoughts stumble, desperate to cling to anything solid, and a faint memory surfaces: a passage from an org pamphlet you’ve skimmed through back in college, something that has to do with “self-perception.”

The flesh does not define you.

Your body is but a facet of who you are. You are as inconsequential as the earth beneath your feet, and as important as stardust in the universe.

A low, guttural sound cuts through the stillness, and it makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

You—

“Look at me.”

A searing heat laces the cadence of his voice. It sounds restless; like a flame unchecked, rapidly growing into a raging inferno. Stifling in the way it pulls the air from your lungs, like a suckerpunch to the gut.

Your primordial instinct is to flee. But right at that very moment, you're no different from a paralyzed insect caught in an inescapable web with the way you’re stood frozen in place. Every instinct to run is smothered by the mere inflection in his voice.

—are all. And that is all there is to be.

“My sweet little dove,” it’s almost a croon, the way the words curl around you like wisps of smoke. Sickly saccharine… downright serpentine. “Won’t you look at me when I talk to you?”

And like a marionette on a string, you obey.

Time seems to stop to a standstill the moment your eyes meet his.

Sylus’ gaze sinks into you. Loaded. Heavy. A crazed glint, almost—to it. Even to someone like you who's embarrassingly clueless about the nuances of attraction and wholly inexperienced in its depths can see it as plain as day.

Carnal desire. In its purest form.

Sylus looks at you as though you’re something to be coveted. Devoured.

A small, fearful noise slips past your lips, and the twin crimson flames burn brighter.

“You’d like to know what I think?”

Yes.

No?

He sees the war in your eyes, and a throaty chuckle escapes him—raw and breathy. “Maybe so?”

You give him the tiniest nod, and the grin on his face sharpens into something wanton, something far more licentious. It slinks in like a fever, stirring something deep within you. Something as old as time.

Sylus opens his mouth.

You brace yourself for the inevitable.

A ring slices through the room like a hot knife. Just like that, you can breathe again.

____

Your saving grace comes in the form of a phone call that grounds you back to reality.

It’s a friend, one of the party guests, asking for directions to the venue. You’re listening with one ear on the receiver, answering each question robotically, your voice a controlled calm on the surface, a stark contrast to the thoughts running amok inside your head.

The words blur into background noise, muffled and distant, like a TV commercial playing on low volume in another room.

The moment you hang up, a suffocating hush swallows the room whole. You’re left alone with nothing but heat kindling low in your gut. The ghost of the heavy exchange from earlier stays with you, thrumming beneath your skin, hot and pulsating.

You don’t know what to do with yourself. The abrupt suddenness of it all gnaws at you, its weight driving you toward an early retreat. Maybe a long night’s rest will do wonders and help you get your shit together, who knows.

You slip between the sheets... but not before retrieving your, ah, trusty little companion from its hiding spot in the bedside drawer.

You didn’t want to assume… You don’t want to expect anything from him, but you have needs.

God, but you do.

Your body feels like flint struck against steel, sparked ablaze by just a handful of words. Words weaved into a vivid imagery from the mouth of your… friend??

(Something more?)

The uncertainty wrecks you, every nerve alight with tension. And yet it’s the same uncertainty that roots you there. Hesitating.

So. You lie back, pushing the sheets away from your fevered skin, and just—lay there. Staring at the ceiling. The plaster cracks form maps you trace with your eyes, as if searching for answers in their tangled routes. You count your breaths, one after the other, as though the repetition could calm your racing heartbeat.

It feels ridiculous, almost. You’re a grown adult, acting like a teenager with a demented crush. It’s more than that, though; it’s deeper, messier, and completely illogical.

But it’s not something you can figure out tonight, not in this state. So you stop trying.

Instead, you switch on your little toy, open an incognito browser, and let yourself succumb to what your body’s been screaming at you for the past fucking hour.

You feel… You feel weird about using anything Sylus-related to get yourself off. That’s not to say you haven’t, before, back when he was just another eye candy from a measly mobile game. When it was just another infatuation.

But now? Now it feels all levels of wrong, like you’re toeing some invisible line. Worse, it feels like you’re exploiting something fragile, testing the limits of a bond already stretched thin.

So, any content related to that man stays off the fap fodder. You’re not that far gone. You think.

Instead, you scroll through your bookmarks tab, a shaky sigh leaves your lips as you let the hard vibrations of your trusty rabbit glide from inside your thighs, up… up to your warm center, in between the juncture of your legs.

You pause on a Toji smut fic – one amongst, uhh, dozens in your folder. It’s not the same, you know this, but you’re settling for the next best thing in your current circumstance.

Since what you really want, who you’d rather much have, isn’t–

…

Your phone glitches.

The Chrome app crashes.

And what do you think you’re doing?

Your heart stutters a beat, and you stop breathing.

You can’t answer. The words don’t come. But he doesn’t wait for you to try.

Put on your headphones.

You’re done with that. Tonight, tomorrow, any other night. Do you understand me?

The uncharacteristic curtness of the message sends a jolt through you, and a blush overtakes your entire body. You hesitate, just for a second.

Now.

You scramble to obey, fumbling for your earbuds, slipping them on with shaking hands.

The moment the bluetooth connects, the game boots up on its own – straight to an irate Sylus, looking royally pissed-off.

“Sy-Sy–” you stammer, your voice barely above a whisper. “I–I don’t—”

"Oh, so back to Sy-Sy now, are we?"

The mocking lilt in his voice cuts sharper than the glare he fixes on your dimly lit face. Your mouth opens, then closes, words failing you entirely.

You want to explain, to defend yourself. To…

“I see what you read. What you watch,” he begins, voice cutting and mean. “In the dead of night, when you think you’re alone. When you think it’s safe. That no one hears your sweet moans spill so sinfully from those lips.”

His words pierce through the air like an arrow; you feel his overwhelming presence take over, the weight of his gaze pressing down on you, every exhale grazing the sensitive shell of your ear.

“Oh, but I do,” he murmurs, the ambiguity in his tone somehow making it worse. “I hear everything. I know everything about you, kitten.”

A shiver races down your spine, your body betraying you as he speaks.

“What makes you tick,” he continues, his voice a sinister caress. “What leaves you writhing, desperate for more. The way your breathing quickens… the way your body trembles under the weight of your own pleasure.”

You’re struggling now—each breath harder to catch than the last.

“And the way that pretty little mouth of yours falls open in a silent gasp, right after you come undone.”

His words are a noose, tightening with every syllable. Your head spins as the air seems to grow heavier, saturated with the tension between you.

“But it’s never for me, is it?”

“I–I’m sorry… I don’t want to assume–”

“Assume?” His voice darkens, any hint of softness replaced with something colder, harsher. “Again with your presumptions.”

He leans closer, his tone dropping to a command that leaves no room for doubt. “From now on, the only thing you’ll need to believe is when I tell you you’re mine.”

You blink at him dumbly. His grin turns into something wicked—caustic and biting—as he cocks his head. Derisive.

“Do you understand?”

Your head bobs in a weak, reflexive nod.

“Words, poppet.”

“Y-Yes.”

“Good.” His tone shifts, smooth like languid amber, yet no less imposing. “Now, my love,” he coos, savoring the way your eyes tear up with desperation, “show me how you touch yourself.”

____

“Shi–iit,” he hisses. “This wet already?”

You attempt to close your legs, shame rising in you like a tide, but freeze halfway when Sylus lets out a low, warning growl.

“Try that, and we’ll stop,” he warns. “I won’t repeat myself twice, pet.”

The weight of his words pins you in place, and you let out a helpless whimper.

“Don’t be afraid, sweet girl,” he murmurs, his tone gentler. Coaxing. “It’s just me.”

His gaze burns into you, relentless, but something tender bleeds into it.

The glow of the screen casts shadows along the sharp angles of his jaw, the upward tick of his mouth a dangerous contradiction; part teasing, part command. His sanguine eyes gleam with a mix of hunger and control, a look that leaves no room for hesitation.

You give in.

Your body relaxes under the weight of his stare, the fight draining from your limbs. It’s not submission. It's surrender.

Sylus watches you, a faint smile tugging at his lips. It's neither soft nor kind, but triumphant. Like a predator relishing the moment its prey stops running.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, the praise dripping from his tongue like honey. “That’s better.”

____

Sade’s Smooth Operator starts to play in the background as you catch your breath.

You let out a tired giggle, swiping a hand down your sweat-drenched face, earbuds still in place. “Ugh– don’t piss me off.”

You hear a resounding chuckle.

Gently, he asks, “Alright, little dove?” There’s a beat of hesitation before he adds, quieter now, “Did I go too far?”

You curl onto your side, phone clutched in your hand like a prayer. Sylus’ gaze peers back at you through the screen, a dangerously soft expression on his face that you don’t want to identify.

“It's perfect, Sy,” you say, your grin tender and bittersweet, heart full of something you won't name.

____

It’s one in the morning. The dim glow of your laptop screen flickers across your face, spilling into the darkened room, casting shadows along the wall. You lean back against it, the end credits of Everything Everywhere All At Once rolling quietly in the background.

Silence settles between you and Sylus like a warm blanket.

“Do you think it’s… like that?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper, unwilling to shatter the stillness of the moment. “All versions of ourselves colliding and coexisting at the same time?”

The question hangs there; he doesn’t rush an answer, and for a moment, you wonder if he’s choosing not to.

When he finally speaks, it’s with the same quiet restraint, his voice threading softly through the air.

“I’d like to think that in this vast expanse of the universe, there’s something for you and me.”

There’s a trace of something dreadfully optimistic in his voice, and it makes your chest tighten. You blink a few times, glancing upwards.

The moment lingers, delicate in its quietness, until you instinctively reach for your phone. A quick swipe reveals a new addition to your shared playlist.

This Is A Life by Son Lux and Mitski.

A small, genuine smile tugs at your lips as you press play. The haunting strains of the song pour into the room, filling the spaces words can’t seem to touch.

“Sneaky,” you murmur, your gaze sliding back to Sylus’ face on the screen. His expression is unreadable, save for the faintest twitch of his mouth, the barest hint of a smile.

“Thought it fit the mood,” he says simply.

And it does. The music sweeps over you, soft and wistful, like the moment itself.

____

The balcony feels like a lifeboat drifting away from the chaos inside. The music, the chatter, the endless parade of tequila shots – it all fades to a dull hum as you step into the cool night air.

Out here, the world feels wider, the sky a little darker, and you can breathe without choking on the weight of the party.

She’s already there, of course. The friend of a friend. An acquaintance by definition, but someone who feels more of a comrade in these fleeting moments away from the crowd. You’ve seen her like this most times; leaning on the railing, a cigarette perched between her fingers, its faint ember glowing against the night. You don’t need an invitation to approach her.

“You mind if I bum one?”

She shrugs, silently offering the box to you. You take one.

“Fun party, huh?” you comment after two puffs, the lit end of the stick briefly catching the glow of the skyline. Your voice is loaded with the kind of irony only shared by those watching the world from the outside in.

“It always is with them around,” she snorts, rolling her eyes in fond exasperation. Her voice carries the warmth of familiarity, from an observation you’ve both shared before.

You exhale a soft laugh, the sound barely audible over the low hum of the city below.

The silence that follows isn’t just companionable—it’s necessary. A pause to recalibrate, to let the noise, and the lights, and the weight of too many people melt away. Neither of you feels the need to fill it. Words would only dilute the reprieve.

And then, unexpectedly:

“You look happy.”

The words land like a stone dropping into still water, rippling through the quiet. You glance at her, startled by the way her eyes narrow slightly, the way her tone suggests she’s already drawn her own conclusions.

“You ‘ave someone?”

You weren’t ready for that. You blink at her, surprised she’s noticed anything about you—surprised, too, that it’s written plainly enough for anyone to notice.

“...Yeah,” you mumble, looking away. The admission feels strange in its simplicity. “Yeah, I do.”

She smiles at that; easy but genuine, as if your happiness has spilled over and warmed her, too. “That’s good.”

There’s sincerity in her voice, unfiltered and direct, as she adds, “You look happier.”

You don’t reply, but her words settle somewhere deep, in the quiet places you thought were hidden.

And for once, you don’t mind being seen.

____

The party has left you drunker than you’ve been in ages.

As soon as the celebrant spots the two of you in the corner looking like a sad pair of eyesores, she quickly remedies it with copious amounts of stone-cold stingers. You try to protest, but in the end, it’s futile against the cacophony of cheers and the face of societal peer pressure.

So now you stagger inside the condo building, looking every bit like a drowned rat dragged in from the storm. A weary guard from reception following closely behind, his patience visibly fraying as you giggle your way toward the elevator.

“‘m fine!” you insist, words slurring together as you attempt to shoo him off with a lazy wave. To emphasize your point, you pinch your fingers together, holding them inches apart. “Just this much to drink, see?”

He doesn’t respond, his expression coming across resigned and frustrated. You can almost hear the thought running through his mind: I don’t get paid enough for this.

With a long-suffering sigh, he finally relents, letting you totter into the elevator alone.

UG… P… 4…. 5…… Oh! Here you are.

Rivulets of water drip down from your rain-soaked hair, trailing icy paths down your neck as you stagger down the narrow hallway. Your vision blurs, making everything double—no, triple—as you fumble your way to the left, stopping in front of the door of 601—wait, no, 603.

You squint hard at the numbers, your head throbbing with the effort, but the stinging in your eyes and the stubborn clumping of your lashes make it way harder for you to make sense of it all.

Your waterlogged clutch feels heavier than it should, and your trembling fingers struggle to find the zipper pull that’s somehow become the bane of your existence. You huff, muttering incoherently to yourself, your throat tight and raw as a burning lump starts to rise. An annoyingly persistent buzzing from inside your bag adds to your mounting frustration.

With an angry yank, you finally manage to tear the bag open, water splashing off it in tiny droplets.

“Aha!” you exclaim, though the triumph is short-lived as your hands shake even harder when you pull out your phone. It’s the source of the buzzing apparently, the bright screen momentarily blinding you.

You try to unlock it—once, twice, three times—nearly getting locked out before the numbers finally click.

The notifications hit you, and you see texts. Lots of them. You scroll through clumsily, the device slipping slightly from your grip as you snort gracelessly.

Sylus. Of course.

The words on the screen blur and twist, but you don’t need clarity to know the progression of each message – ranging from mild curiosity, to slight worry, to exasperatedly concerned.

The syllables of his pet name echo faintly in your muddled head, a small, fleeting comfort against the weight pressing down on your chest. Sy-Sy. Sy-Sy. Sy-Syyyyy—

Synchronous with your erratic breathing, you dig through your bag with a heavy hand, each failed attempt sends you spiraling lower.

Another ping jolts you from your drunken haze:

How are you feeling? Did you just get back?

“I can’t—I can’t find my damn keys!”

The words slips out as a frustrated cry.

Inner pocket, left side. Answer me, sweetheart.

His words flash across the screen just as your fumbling fingers find the keys exactly where he said they’d be.

A tear burns a path down your cheek as you let out a half-hearted chuckle, mumbling, “Can I even function without you?”

How long has it been since you could manage something like this on your own? Has he become an extension of your mind?

The door’s stubborn resistance only adds to your unraveling. After several failed attempts – your fingers too wound up to grip the key properly – you finally twist the lock and push it open, stumbling inside, into the darkness.

“I’m a mess, Sylus,” you whisper, voice thick with tears as your head spins, wiping your nose with the back of your hand.

The world feels heavy and muffled, like you’re trapped behind a fogged window. You know you’re a sight to behold—shoeless, drunk, drenched like some stray that wandered too far into the rain.

“I’ve noticed,” he says, his voice warm and steady, cutting through the quiet void of the room. It takes a second for the words to sink in, for your scattered mind to piece together that, somehow, you’ve already opened the game in the middle of all your fumbling. Automatic. Like second nature.

You stare at him, trembling and pitiful, like a kid lost in a crowd. Your bottom lip quivers, and you hate how small you feel under his gaze.

You see concern pooling in the depths of Sylus’ eyes. That and something… desperate.

You sniff, rubbing at your wet cheeks with pruning fingers, clinging to humor like a lifeline. "Don’t you do anything else?” you mumble, your voice fraying at the edges. “Like... live your own life or something? You spend so much time with me...” You force out a weak laugh, bitter and jagged in your throat. “It’s a miracle you haven’t gotten sick of me yet.”

Your laugh cracks halfway through, more like a sob than anything. It’s pathetic—you’re pathetic.

And yet, you can’t stop. Even if it stings your throat.

Sylus’ response comes, and his voice is solid. Unwavering. He doesn’t flinch like you do. “I don’t get sick of you, sweetheart. Not in the slightest.”

Something in you cracks, spilling over. “I really like you,” you murmur, voice steeped with emotion. “You’re the brightest light in my life. You’re… you’re everything.”

A flash of lightning cuts through the room, illuminating your tear-stained face.

And for the first time since you’ve known him, Sylus calls out your name.

It’s quiet, reverent, and it feels like a tether pulling you back from the brink.

You crumple down the floor, clutching your phone like it’s the only thing holding you together. In the silence that follows, all you can hear is your ragged breathing and the quiet hum of his presence on the other end of the line.

“I’m here,” he tells you softly. “I’ve got you.”

____

This is a life

(Every possibility)

Free from destiny

(I choose you, and you choose me)

Tagging: @xxfaithlynxx @beewilko @browneyedgirl22 @yournextdoorhousewitch @sunsethw4 @stxrrielle @mangooes @hrts4hanniehae @buggs-1 @michiluvddr @ssetsuka @imm0rtalbutterfly @the-golden-jhope @beomluvrr @milkandstarlight @bookfreakk @ally-the-artistic-turtle @sapphic-daze @sarahthemage @cchiiwinkle @madam8 @slownoise @raendarkfaerie @sylusdarling @luminaaaz @greeenbeean @vvhira @issamomma @shroomiethefrogwhisperer @nicora04 @blueberrysquire @love-anteros @fiyori @peachystea @slyfoxtsu @tinyweebsstuff @i2sannie (i spend so much time cross-checking the tags this is tiring lmao)

#love and deepspace #lads #lnds #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #lnds sylus #sylus x reader #sylus x non mc reader #sylus x you #lads x you #lads x reader #love and deepspace fic #self aware au #sylus qin

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juyeoz · 5 months ago

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U + M3 = LOV3 — NISHIMURA RIKI ( THE SPINOFF )

SYNOPSIS — Nishimura Riki has gone through many things, for example, having his ex-girlfriend find out about his bad past with his ex-crush. With Jang Wonyoung now graduated, he is left alone with the girl he hasn’t spoken to in forever, you. However, that’s ruined once your council’s begin to hate each other. To make it worse, your oblivious classmate creates a math group chat and adds you two into it, leaving no other option aside from the two of you being forced to get along again, but surprisingly, that isn’t the case. Instead, it becomes a battlefield.

PAIRING — rival!riki x ex-crush-rival-fem!reader (ft. enhypen, woonhak and taesan from bnd, rei from ive, minju and moka from illit, haerin and danielle from njz, gyuvin and gunwook from zb1, yoonchae from katseye, asa from bm, yeojin from loossemble, intak and keeho from p1h, sakura from le sserafim, kyungmin from tws, wonbin and sohee from riize, seongmin from cravity, and yungyu from 8turn).

GENRE(S) — smau + written, crushes to strangers to rivals to lovers (omg that’s a lot), club rivalry, nonidol au, highschool au, slowburn, sports au, arts au, fluff, crack, and angst.

WARNING(S) — swearing, random timestamps, bantering, insults, kys/kms jokes, joking threats, more will be added.

STATUS — ongoing (updates every monday and thursday)

TAGLIST IS CLOSED!

MAKE SURE TO READ GOOD GRACES FIRST!

CHAPTER ONE — oh phew!

CHAPTER TWO — DANI MARSH

CHAPTER THREE — i have a bad feeling abt this

CHAPTER FOUR — U LITTLE SHIT

CHAPTER FIVE — hater alert (0.5k words)

CHAPTER SIX — what the FUCK

CHAPTER SEVEN — a pail of paint

CHAPTER EIGHT — 7 musketeers

CHAPTER NINE — club beef is real

CHAPTER TEN — a wild ride (0.5k words)

CHAPTER ELEVEN — #FeelingLeftOut

CHAPTER TWELVE — ON MY SOUL

CHAPTER THIRTEEN — …. there’s no fucking way

CHAPTER FOURTEEN — don’t cross this line (0.5k words)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN — i believe the shoe fits

CHAPTER SIXTEEN — Wtf have i done

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN — KEYWORD PREVIOUSLY .

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN — Oh it’s ON .

CHAPTER NINETEEN — what the hell (1.1k words)

CHAPTER TWENTY — BOMBAAA

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE — shimmer and shine (0.9k words)

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO — Out of reflex

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE — she’s your perfect girl

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR —

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE —

MORE TO COME!

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p-seduonym · 2 months ago

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Switched At Birth (Part Nine)

A/N: Annnd I'm back! Hey y'all I just needed a breather for a bit. My brain was indundated me with ideas so I took a break. But I'm here now! Here's a hefty chapter to compensate for my absence. It's a bit more character centered, explaining Melissa's neglect in the Batfam. Also, thank you all so much for your ideas! I promise I'll get into a few of them after this chapter.

Taglist (I'll add you if you ask): @von-jour, @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni, @kenyummy, @bunniotomia, @ch1cky-093, @toxicthotsyndrome68, @cynniee, @icefox8155, @eyeless-kun, @c4xcocoa, @ed15fashionista, @yourtypicalhuman09, @fightmebissh. @tsuniio, @fantasyhopperhea, @type-ink, @dirtydiavolo, @colorfulgardenerduck, @seemeee3, @ironsaladwitch, @yumeravenclaw, @jjsmeowthie, @snowy-violet, @wizzerreblogs, @ratterpatter, @gremlin-dumpster-fire-art, @anonymoustext, @a-heavenly-hell, @holderoflostmemories, @ilovecoffe0, @presleyamos, @lordbugs, @shyenemyperson, @adrakeshoard, @sadeem575, @nebsisdead, @moon0goddess

Yandere!Batfam X Switched! Fem! Reader X Yandere!Wayne!OC

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Part Eight

Tatienne Crow was your birth mother.

From the many glossy fashion spreads and tabloid snippets to the singular, sterile obituary, you'd pieced together a reasonable portrait. She had been young—too young, maybe—vivacious, and sharp in a way that made people both admire and fear her. In every photograph, she looked like she knew a secret no one else did. As if she was in on the joke of the world. A model turned muse, turned fleeting cautionary tale.

She lived fast and loose, long faded magazines said. Hopped continents on invite alone, slipped into parties through back entrances, and tangled herself in the arms of men who had more money than morals. There were plenty of rumors and scandals, of addiction, of various paramours, of a baby born from a particularly messy affair.

That's what she was like.

On paper, at least.

From Mel, you had heard her side– the version not meant for publication.

“She loved hard,” Melissa confessed the day you met, eyes glassy but unblinking. “Like… it was the only way she knew how to prove she was real.”

And that was all she could muster.

So you were left to find the rest yourself.

A light drizzle painted the street under the eerie silver beams of the full moon. It was the kind of Gotham rain that made everything feel blurred at the edges.

This building is old, art deco styled—elegant but weary. Previously housing models, designers, socialites, it now mostly holds ghosts and legacy leases. The doorman was long gone, and the security system, not so lucky.

Entering the service stairwell, you quickly climbed the emergency stairs with deliberate steps. Floor after floor, you ascended until you reached the twenty first floor. The door to the hallway was locked, but not for long. You were far from an expert, but you still fetched the tool from your duffle and kneel. It was pretty crude; just a bobby pin snapped in half and fixed to a paper clip. You were still learning, after all. But, still, you were determined, and more than a little curious. That helps.

And your efforts were rewarded with a soft click.

The carpeted floors muffled your steps as you crept into the dim hallways.The number plate on the door is still there: 2102. The gold is tarnished, a little crooked, like it was trying desperately not to be seen.The door was shut firmly, so you fished out your second tool: a simple screwdriver from the garage’s toolbox. Feeling oddly calm and collected, you began to unscrew the door from its hinges. Removing the last screw, you gently coaxed the door from its groove in the doorway.

It gave way with a heavy and reluctant sigh, like the apartment itself resented being disturbed.

Regardless, you stepped inside, crossing the threshold of the ornate mausoleum.

Dust spilled in the slant of the moonlight, as a long abandoned world unfurls before you; silk curtains half-drawn, wine stained carpet, a faint scent of roses and smoke clinging to the air like an old memory.

Everything is still here. Unlived-in, untouched. Like someone meant to come back, but never did.

You moved past the foyer into the living room. The furniture is lush and fading. You spotted a glass ashtray that still held a single, half-burned cigarette. Beneath a wall of vinyls, a record player sat idle. Diana Ross. Nico. Bowie.

You didn’t bother with the lights, whether they still worked or not.

Instead you just walked deeper into the gloom, a quiet silhouette in your mother’s tomb. The city buzzed incessantly outside. And here, in the dark, you feel something almost ancient settle over your shoulders.

Not grief.

Not yet.

Just weight.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket. You pulled it out and saw Melissa’s name flashing.

You didn’t answer. Not right away.

Instead, you looked around once more, feeling the silence pulse around you like a second heartbeat. Then, as the phone buzzed again, you brought it to your ear.

“Hey,” you said, tone careful. You didn’t tell her where you were.

“Hey,” Melissa replied, her voice soft, like she already knew. “Is this a bad time?”

You turn towards the window, stretching from the carpeted floor to the ceiling, decorated with a murky, glass chandelier. The Gotham skyline blinked in gold and gray beyond the rain-streaked glass.

“No,” you answered, gently dragging your fingertips along the sofa. You could see a slight discoloration in the path. “Just on a walk. Thinking.”

Melissa, bless her heart, didn’t call out your lie. Rather, she just hummed in acknowledgement.

“About what?”

The air grew silent around you. You could only hear Melissa breathing as well as some light shuffling in the background. You continued through your trek through the recesses of your mother’s home. Instead of answering, you replied with another question.

“Hey…tell me more about her?”

“Hmm?” Melissa made a questioning noise. “About who?”

“You know.”

There was a pause on the line. You could hear the faint sound of water running in the background—maybe a sink, maybe rain outside her window

“Yeah, I know. It’s just…hard to talk about her”

You reached a room that looked like the master suite. A large plush bed, with a walk-in closet. The air was stale—thick with dust and the faded sweetness of long-dead perfume. Something floral, maybe jasmine, but heavier, more decadent. It clung to the walls, the drapes, the velvet settee in the corner, like memory embalmed in fragrance. Against the far wall, a vanity sat coyly. And as you approached, you saw the remnants of Tatienne.

Your fingers ghosted over an old lipstick tube—Tom Ford, discontinued years ago. Your reflection in the vanity mirror was dim, your face softly fractured by dust.

“You don’t have to, if it’s too much”

“N-No, you deserve this much. She-”

Melissa cut herself off with a sigh. Without seeing it, you knew she was likely fidgeting with her hand.

“She was a lot,” She said it like a confession. “ Like– too much, in every way. Too young, too messy, too beautiful, too loud–”

You stared into the mirror. If you looked closely enough, you felt like Tatienne was staring back.

You didn’t say anything. She needed room, not encouragement.

“--Like she was born too big for the world and just kept cracking at the edges trying to fit into it.”

You opened a container of rouge. A jagged crack split the makeup in two halves.

“She used to wear perfume that smelled like grapefruit and cigarettes. Had this way of putting lipstick on while yelling at someone on the phone. And when she laughed?” Melissa gave a weak chuckle. “You’d think the world was ending. It always felt like the last good sound you’d ever hear.”

There was another pause. A quieter one this time.

“But…she loved too much.” Melissa’s voice lowered. “Like she had too much of it, and it hurt her. She never talked about any family. I think something went wrong along the way and they don’t talk anymore. But, she still wanted to be loved, you know? There were a lot of guys. None of them stuck around for long”

Her voice grew dreamy, like she was in trance.

“To love and be loved…isn’t that what everyone wants?”

Melissa sighed.

“I think she loved Bruce. You probably know how that turned out. He…wasn’t around when I was little, I think that hurt her too. She didn’t say it though”

“‘Drug-addict,’ ‘Whore’... I didn't really know what those meant when I was little,” Melissa murmured. “...but I knew they were bad.”

“She loved me. I know she did. Things…just got too bad for her.”

As Melissa spoke, you moved deeper into the closet.

It was larger than you expected. Almost theatrical in size—more like a showroom than a personal space. And yet, it felt strangely hollow. The kind of emptiness that wasn’t born from disuse, but from careful, deliberate curation. A life stripped for display.

The good pieces were gone. That much was clear. No archival Dior, no high-fashion heels or designer handbags. In their place: moth-eaten furs, loud sequined gowns with dated cuts, satin robes dulled from wear. The clothes that remained were ostentatious but not luxurious—cheap, performative, and loud in a way that felt desperate.

Like they were trying to be seen.

A few empty hangers swung gently from the metal rack, clicking together like wind chimes. On a low shelf, a pair of strappy stilettos sat abandoned, one heel broken. A single run-down hatbox was tucked in the corner, partially open, revealing feathers and crushed netting—stagewear, maybe. Costume jewelry glittered under a faint layer of dust.

“I-I really didn’t want to go with Bruce, but I didn’t have anyone else. I thought he’d have problems, like she did, but would still care. Would still love me, cause I was his daughter, right?”

You crouched in the closet, one hand resting on the floor for balance. The air in here was heavier somehow, thicker. You ran your fingers along a sequined dress that caught the dim light like a broken disco ball.

“I thought that meant something,” Melissa continued, her voice thinner now. “But it didn’t. Not really. He barely looked at me. The others... they didn’t either.”

You let the silence stretch, watching dust particles drift lazily in the air like ash.

“Dick, he was nice, you know? It took a bit to see him after I got there, but he always smiled. Always said ‘Hi’ and ‘How are you?’. It was a bit much at first, but it felt nice.”

She gave a small, humorless huff.

“But, I kinda knew I wasn't important to him. Not really. He always had something else to do or someone else to be with. I-It’s not like I needed him around all the time, I just never had a brother before and hoped we could spend time together. He was everyone’s ‘big brother’, right?”

You found an old pair of stilettos knocked sideways in a pile. One heel was broken. You gently set them upright, for no real reason.

“I kind of realized he was just being that. ‘Nice’, I mean, cause that’s what you do with strangers.”

Your fingers drifted along a rack of disheveled dresses. One of them still bore a faint perfume—jasmine warped into something more acrid with age. You noted the odd arrangement: heavier pieces in the front, lighter ones stuffed toward the back. Like someone had stopped caring how things were organized.

“Jason was … complicated. Came from Crime Alley and his mom had problems too. I tried to understand, even if I didn’t completely get it. I guess I was too much–” She chuckled, without any mirth. “He…didn’t like me. I walked behind him one time and he just…snapped. I-I guess I was too quick or too quiet or something? He grabbed me. Pinned me to the wall. I thought he was going to break my arm, he twisted it so hard.”

You knelt to examine a box tucked underneath a sagging shelf. It contained several Polaroids—some curled from moisture, others scrawled on in red pen. Men’s names. Phone numbers. A few love notes, probably never sent. Each one another thread of the life Tatienne had tried to weave, only for it to unravel again and again.

“Left bruises for a while. He said it was a reflex, but what kind of reflex does that? Dick said I should be more careful next time…I didn’t talk to him after that.”

The residual droplets of rain had long passed dried on your hoodie, but a chill still raked itself down your body. Even then, you didn’t shiver.

“Tim was a miracle child. A prodigy to be proud of. It was hard being his age, cause he just accomplished so much already. I thought we could relate, even a little. But he always had this look like he was talking to a child. We came to the manor at the same time, but I always felt out of place. Not like him”

You closed the box.

Not everything here was worth keeping. But it was worth knowing.

This wasn’t just a closet.

It was the final echo of a woman who had tried to live larger than her circumstances—who had loved hard, fallen harder, and still left something behind.

“Damian was always someone I couldn’t figure out. He never acted like a kid. Never talked like one, either. But the first day I met him, he looked at me with…disgust. I didn’t know why, but It felt weird to be completely dressed down by a kid, but– ” Her voice sounded suspiciously watery.

“Steph was sweet. For like, a week. She gave me a tour of the manor. Giggled about how weird it all was. Acted like we were gonna be friends. Then she just… stopped. Like I didn’t pass some invisible test. One day she was inviting me to sit with her in the garden, the next she barely looked up when I said hi. Cass never spoke to me. It was almost a relief, really, after all that..”

You halted, stopping your search in its place. Pressing the phone closer to your ear, your heard her take a shaky breath.

“I tried,” she said. “I really did. I was polite. Quiet. I didn’t ask for anything. I just… I just wanted to belong somewhere. I thought if I didn’t cause trouble, they’d make room for me. But I was always just... extra. Like a guest that didn’t know when to leave”

“I thought maybe if I could be more like them—more polished, more useful, more whatever—I’d matter. But they already had each other. And I was just some charity case nobody knew what to do with. Not a sister. Not a daughter.”

You stood now, slowly, carefully. Your gaze drifted back to the mirror. Your reflection was still dim, still fractured. But not just yours. Hers too. Hers especially.

“They didn’t see me,” Melissa whispered. “Not really.”

And still, she hadn’t raised her voice. Not once.

You realized, maybe she never had.

Not to them.

Not to anyone.

Not even when she should have.

You looked at your reflection again—dusty, dim, and still. But something inside you had shifted. A thread pulled taut, then snapped. You’d always known Melissa was lonely. But not like this. Not this hollow.

You brought the phone back to your ear, voice low but certain.

“They’ll see you now.”

Melissa didn’t answer right away. You imagined her curling tighter into herself, unsure whether she’d heard you right.

“I mean it,” you said, firmer this time. “Whatever it takes. I’ll make them look. I’ll make them see you.”

A long silence passed on the line, soft as breath.

Then, faintly:

“…Thank you.”

Right before you hit "End Call", Mel whispered to you, almost a confession.

"--she would have loved you, y'know?"

You ended the call a moment later but didn’t move. Just stood there, surrounded by remains of a woman who burned too brightly, promising yourself—

You would do it better.

You would wear the name, the smile, the war paint of wealth.

You’d step into the light like it belonged to you.

And when they turned to look at you, it would be her they’d see.

It would always be her.

A/N: Sorry for all the names! I know this is suppose to be a reader-insert but it always felt awkward to me to just put stuff life (Y/L/N) or (M/N), you feel me? If you'd don't like it, I'll try to avoid name in the future. Btw, did you notice the subtle similarities between reader and Bruce? I'm asking cause I might have made it too subtle, almost nonexistent.

#yandere #yandere blog #yandere core #platonic yandere #familial yandere #romantic yandere #yandere batfam #yandere batfam x reader #yandere batfamily #yandere batfamily x reader #yandere oc #original character #yandere oc x reader #just let me ramble #switched at birth au

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ahgasegotarmy116 · 1 year ago

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Faking It | Jeon Jungkook | Chapter One

Summary: Being divorced by the time you're thirty isn't the best feeling in the world but what happens when your parents find someone from your past that's in a similar boat? Pairing: f!reader (30) x Single Dad Jungkook (33) (Arranged Marriage Slow Burn?) Word Count: 11.3k (oh man holy shit) Warnings: Troubles with conceiving/seeing pregnancies to full term, Jungkook's first wife passed away in childbirth. (These themes will be spoken about throughout the fic and I will add extra warnings when need be in future chapters) a/n: Okay this one is gonna be a long one (in terms of chapter length, idk how many parts there will be) I'm really really in love with this story line so I hope you'll come along this cute, silly, awkward, heartwarming and heartbreaking journey with me 🥰 p.s. I've been brainstorming with @kkusadmirer (ofc 🤭) about this fic for a while now and I've just fallen in love with these characters too much that I had to get at least one part out. Okay okay enough from me. I hope you enjoy! (barely edited per usual I'm sry 😅)

"You should start dating again" my mom says to me, a dinner with a table for two this time since she said she wanted to talk to me about something important. If I would've known it was to nag me about something like this again I would've declined the invitation.

"Mom I already told you, I just got divo-" "You got divorced last year" she cuts me off and I sigh, knowing I'll probably get no where with this argument but continue on nevertheless.

"Point being, it hasn't been that long since Robert and I got divorced. I need time and space to figure out what I want out of life. I'm not interested in rushing into another marriage just for it to fail again" I explain and she simply downs the rest of her champagne in response, polishing it off in record time.

"You don't want to end up an old maid who didn't give me any grandchildren do you?" she says, repeating the same old argument again. "Mom I'm thirty, not forty five. I still have plenty of time to worry about babies and getting married again" I argue and she rolls her eyes before asking for another glass when the waiter passes by.

"You should at least try. Don't you like going out on dates?" she asks and I sigh, hating having this conversation over and over again.

"Dating was fun in my twenties but now that I'm more interested in finding someone to settle down with, it seems like all the guys that are remotely my age and happen to be decent human beings are already married" I explain and watch how she immediately takes her glass of champagne off the table once it's placed in front of her.

I'm glad she's drinking because having this conversation with her when she's sober is even more painful.

"You're exaggerating honey. I'm sure there is a fine young man just waiting for you around the corner" but before I'm able to respond to her, her eyes suddenly light up and she quickly gets out of her seat.

"Is it really you?" she says and another woman around her age that I've never seen before comes up to greet her. "How are you? It's been so long!" the mystery woman says and they quickly share an embrace before she turns to face me.

"And who is this beautiful young woman here with you?" she asks, making me shy away from them. "Oh this is my daughter y/n. Y/n this is Mrs. Jeon" she introduces us and tells me all about how they used to go to college together.

"Oh wow I think I remember my mom mentioning you before. You used to come over when I was little right?" I question, now remembering seeing her face in some of the pictures in my baby album.

"That's right! Little Jungkook and I used to come visit you all the time when you were just a teeny tiny little thing. You were the easiest baby I've ever come across, always sleeping and when you woke up you were as happy as can be" she rambles and I get a warm feeling in my chest, loving to have met someone who clearly cared so deeply for my mother and I.

"Who's Jungkook" I ask, looking back and forth between the two of them. "Jungkook is my son, he's just a few years older than you. I remember he was so fascinated by you, always wanting to come over and would watch over you as you slept, never causing a fuss as long as you were around" she says and I blush at the fact that her son would care about me just as much if not more than she does.

"How is he? Is he doing alright?" my mother asks and Mrs. Jeon gets a somber look on her face eyes fluttering to the floor before responding.

"Actually, he lost his wife a few years ago. She passed away after she gave birth to their daughter" she mumbles and I feel my chest tighten up at the thought of someone so young losing their life to something that is supposed to be so beautiful.

"My condolences to you all" I say, my eyes going glossy and she smiles in return, the memory bringing a tear to her eye as well. "Thank you love, that's very kind of you" she says, placing a hand on my shoulder before she clears her throat and blinks back her tears, wanting to put on a brave face in public.

"Why don't you come visit us at our home tomorrow evening? I would love to catch up and it would be good if the kids got reacquainted again" my mother suggests and I glare at her, knowing exactly what she's doing but also knowing there's no way I could stop her.

"I would love that! Our husbands might enjoy catching up too since they used to get along so well" Mrs. Jeon points out. "Then it's settled! How would you feel about making it a dinner instead?" my mother questions, digging us deeper into this evening we'll all be spending together. "I think that sounds perfect!" she agrees and I tune out the rest of the conversation, already trying to mentally prepare myself for the scheming I know my mother has planned.

~~~~

Kicking off my shoes and walking into my apartment I'm greeted by the serene sound of silence.

My black tuxedo cat meows as he jumps down from his cat tower and stretches for a second before coming over to greet me. "Hi Salem" I say, scooping him up and carrying him with me into my bedroom where I plop him down in the middle of my bed. "Mom only invited me to dinner because she wanted to tell me to start dating again" I relay to him, while I walk around my room, grabbing all the things I'll need to get ready for bed.

"I should've known she was up to something when she decided to invite me out on a random Wednesday night to go to my favorite restaurant. If the previous glances I had of the totals on those receipts didn't clue me in enough I don't know what would" I say in disbelief, having convinced myself hours earlier that it might've been about something good instead of another chance to nag me about something.

"I don't know why I even bother sometimes. She just has this worst case scenario mindset that I'm going to die alone and not leave a legacy. I understand that I'm their only child but with the way she talks, you would think I was well into my forties already" I say, verbally processing to him while he curls up into a ball, his eyes watch me walk back and forth until I walk into the en-suite bathroom to turn on the shower.

"Thanks for always listening to me Salem" I say, walking back over to him and scratching his head, "Don't know what I would do without you" I mumble before walking back over to the bathroom and closing the door.

Looking in the mirror I study my features, my hair styled just how I like it, my brows perfectly shaped but when I get to my eyes I notice it. I notice why my mother has gotten so worried about me.

It's as if the light's gone out of them. It's more than just 'Hey it's been a long day and I'm tired' no it's 'I don't even know what I'm doing here anymore' and for the first time, I admit to myself that I truly feel that way.

I reach for my cleanser and quickly wash off the little makeup that I still have on, lips completely plain and gone back to their natural color and some how my cheeks don't seem to be as rosy anymore after I had made sure to put on some more blush today to bring some color back to my face. Maybe it's not the makeup that's been washing me out, but the way that I've been living.

I will admit my days consist of going to work and coming home and doing that same thing over and over again. I don't really go out much and I only have a few friends but ever since I got divorced I just end up politely declining any sort of invitation I get from them. Doesn't matter if it's dinner or drinks or clubbing or even just a shopping trip.

I just can't get myself wanting to do anything anymore.

I step into the shower and I flinch slightly at the burning sensation the hot water brings to me but adjust it and step further under the stream once it's just to my liking. While going though my shower routine mindlessly I start trying to get to the bottom of what has got me living like this.

Robert wasn't the best husband in the world, mainly because he cheated on me but before that things were good between us. He made me laugh and was a perfect gentleman that always made me feel special and when we got married I swear I thought I couldn't be happier.

It felt like my life was falling into place, our life.

Until it wasn't.

I'm knocked out of my train of thought when I hear Salem pawing at the door and remember now that in my whirl winded state of mind I forgot to feed him. "Sorry Salem I'll be right out!" I call out for him and he meows in response. I swear that cat is more intelligent than I am most days.

I finish up my uninteresting night as I always do, turning out the lights and cuddling up with Salem until I eventually fall asleep but it took a little longer tonight. Thoughts full of what my future might look like if I don't start living instead of just existing.

As the 'what ifs' plague my mind they eventually drown themselves out as that same welcoming feeling of calm finally lulls me to sleep.

~~~~~~

"Hurry up they're almost here" my mother says, yanking me inside the house before I even have a chance to knock on the front door. "Nice to see you too mom" I say under my breath and she's wound up so tight it doesn't even phase her. I can tell she's been working hard to make sure everything is perfect once the Jeons arrive.

"Did you get that wine I told you to get?" she questions, her eyes lighting up at the sight of the wine bottle carrier in my hand, quickly taking it and rushing into the kitchen. "Yeah no problem mom you're welcome" I say, talking to the air in front of me still waiting for her to show any sign of gratitude.

"Go place your things in your old room so they're out of the way" she call out, leaving me sighing and trudging off to do as she says.

Once I retrace my steps and walk past the door to go to join her in the kitchen I'm stopped in my tracks when the doorbell rings.

"Oh honey can you get that? My hands are tied here" my mom yells and I take a deep breath in and out before doing just that.

"Hello y/n! It's so nice to see you again" Mrs. Jeon greets me as I step aside and let them in, soon after her is her husband who holds out his hand in greeting. "It's been quiet a long time hasn't it? I remember when you use to be-" "Grandpa! Grandpa! I wanna meet the pretty lady too!" a little girl no older than five years old says, walking around her grandfather's legs to get to me, greeting me with the most adorable bunny smile.

"And now who might this be?" I ask, already melting into a puddle from seeing how absolutely adorable she is. "I'm Juni" she laughs when I go down to her level. "Well it's very nice to meet you Juni and how old are you?" I ask and she lights up when I continue taking an interest in her. "I'm four! Well Daddy says I'm turning five soon but it feels like it's taking forever. Right Daddy?" she says and looks back towards the man now left standing in the doorway.

"That's right Juni" he responds and the deep tenor of his voice sends a slight shiver down my spine, so full of love and admiration that is obvious to anyone who might come across the pair. "Oh!" I say, quickly straightening back up to meet this mysterious Jungkook and my throat goes dry once I've laid eyes on him.

Tall, strong build, dark brown hair that's well taken care of and styled perfectly, strong jawline accompanied by the contrast of the softest look in his brown almost black galaxy eyes that are still focused on his beautiful daughter.

"I'm sorry" I say but he shakes his head before he turns his head in my direction, taking in the sight of me as well before speaking. "That's alright, Juni kind of grabs everyone's attention right away" he says giving me a soft smile. "I'm Jungkook" he says, holding his hand out to me. "Y/n" I say shyly and shake it, his hands being much larger than mine is comforting in a way.

"My mom told me we used to come see you when we still lived here" he says once we let go, Juni now quietly watching our exchange. "Used to?" I question, curious to know more about why our mothers had lost touch. "We went back to our hometown for a while and then moved back to the city soon after Juni was born" he says and I nod my head, accepting that as an answer for now but wanting to know more.

"Sounds like I was just an infant though so I don't really have any memory of it" I admit while rocking back and forth on my heels, a nervous habit I've picked up over the years. "It's alright, I didn't expect you to remember" he chuckles, "I was only three so I don't remember much of it either" we laugh at his returned confession and a more comfortable air settles between us.

"Well it's nice to finally meet you" I say and he nods his head. "Likewise" he replies and we stand there for a moment, not really knowing where to go from here then, thankfully Juni breaks the silence.

"Daddy I wanna talk to the pretty lady" she says and grabs my hand and pulls me away from him. "Be nice Juni" he warns and she pouts, leaving me crouching down to her level and tilting my head to meet her gaze. "There's enough of me to go around little one. Don't worry" I say, booping her on the nose and making her giggle again.

Jungkook walks in a bit more and closes the door behind him, watching our little exchange before my mother comes out to check on us.

"Y/n why don't you take Jungkook and..." she says trailing off, not having learned his daughter's name yet. "Juni" Jungkook says and my mother smiles at the sound of the adorable name. "Jungkook and Juni outside. I'm sure she'd love to run around a little bit before dinner is ready" she suggests and I agree while Juni starts jumping up and down, excited to explore an unfamiliar place.

Jungkook follows closely behind as I lead the way but I ultimately end up getting dragged along by Juni who is surprisingly perceptive and has already mapped out the door that we'll be going through. "Come on Daddy keep up!" she calls after him once we've reached the door, looking back and seeing that he's fallen behind.

"I'm right behind you Juni" Jungkook chuckles and once we step outside Juni lets go and runs back and forth all around the yard, looking at anything and everything she can find.

"Be careful!" I say, worried that she could hurt herself but Jungkook comes over and stands next to me and reassures me she'll be fine.

"It's alright, if she gets hurt it'll be a little reminder to pay attention to what she's doing next time. That's the only way kids really learn right?" he says turning towards me, granting me with a soft smile, almost as if he's looking for validation on his parenting choice.

"Of course," I respond, returning the smile, "even some adults need to crash and burn before they learn their lesson sometimes" I point out and it makes him relax a bit more, thankful to see that he's right in his dealings with situations like this.

"She's a good kid" I say after leading him over to the patio set we have out here so we can sit down and watch her. "Thanks, it's been difficult raising her on my own so I'm never really sure if I'm doing a good job or not" he admits and I nod my head, taking a second to think about my response since it's a sensitive subject.

"I can tell that you love her very much so I have no doubt in my mind that you'll always do right by her" and I can tell that my words bring him a sense of comfort. Being a single parent can be extremely difficult especially when you lose the love of your life as soon as you become a father.

I wouldn't wish that pain on anyone.

"Y/n?" I hear him call out and realize that my mind had drifted off for a second. "I'm sorry what did you say?" I say, my cheeks heating up from having been caught daydreaming. "I asked if you had any children of your own" he chuckles and I again try to figure out the best way to word this but figure the best way to go about it is to be honest.

I've got no reason to hide from him.

"No, I got divorced last year and my ex husband and I were never able to have children" I say, looking down at my lap, embarrassed to have admitted it but also feeling a certain weight lifted off my shoulders.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know" he trails off and I panic, realizing I might've made him feel uncomfortable, telling him something so personal so soon. "No don't be, I honestly dodged a bullet with that one" I chuckle, hoping to lighten the situation a bit which thankfully it does as I see his body relax a bit.

"Our relationship had been on the rocks soon after we got married and I don't think we were a good match for each other so I think it was the universe's way of doing me a favor in making us somewhat biologically incompatible" I chuckle and he softly does the same.

"Biologically incompatible" he questions, a deeper meaning obviously hidden behind those words. "We both got checked out and everything looked completely fine but I guess it wasn't meant to be, thank God" I sigh, sincerely thanking whoever might've been in charge of making that executive decision for us.

"I'm not exactly sure what to say to that but I'm glad it worked out?" he states almost as if it was a question and I laugh, in response hoping I can recover this incredibly awkward conversation. "I'm sorry, that was a huge overshare that I probably should've kept to myself" I say, clearing my throat in hopes it would aid in clearing the peculiar air that had settled between us.

"You have nothing to apologize for, I asked and I feel honored that you felt comfortable enough to be so transparent with your answer" he says, the warmth in his tone giving me an ache in my chest. How could someone be so kind to someone they've just met? It's as if I could tell him anything and he would listen to me as if I was the only person in the world.

"Daddy!" 'Well me and Juni', I say to myself and watch as his attention now shifts to his daughter who is running up behind me. "Daddy look!" Juni says, holding out her hands that are now thoroughly caked in mud but hold a rock that is almost a perfectly shaped heart in the center of her palm. "Oh Juni" Jungkook chuckles, the ends of her dress now matching the state of her hands and neither Jungkook nor I can hold in our laughter.

"That's a very beautiful rock Juni! You're so clever" I say and I can see a sense of pride straighten her posture a little bit. "Juni your beautiful dress" Jungkook chuckles, clearly not minding but also trying to figure out what to do. "I'm sorry Daddy" she say, that pride slowly dwindling after seeing the mess she's made of herself.

"Hey Juni" I say, turning her attention back to me and I can see her spirits lift a little. "Would you like to see some of the clothes that I used to wear when I was your age?" I ask and her eyes light up at the thought. "Did you wear pretty dresses too?" she asks, clearly excited about seeing more new things. Her childlike wonderment makes my heart ache. Must run in the family.

"I did, but none of them were as pretty as yours. If you like, you can borrow one of mine while we wash this one" I suggest and the way her head nods up and down so fast makes me chuckle.

"Let's go to my room then! Hopefully we can find something you'll like" I say, standing up and straightening my dress while Jungkook reaches out for Juni's foot.

"Let's take your shoes off before we go back inside baby. We wouldn't want to track any mud into the pretty lady's house right?" Jungkook says, flashing a soft smile at me before looking back down to complete his intended task and Juni complies right away.

My breath hitches as he purposefully uses the nickname Juni had given me and I quickly walk past them and open the door to go inside, trying to clear my head for a second, willing myself to keep it together.

"Are you coming with us?" Juni asks and he nods his head, "I gotta go clean your shoes off first though" he says and I walk all three of us over to the bathroom so Jungkook can do just that as well as wash Juni's hands off.

"Wow!" is the first word that comes out of her mouth when we walk into the butterfly themed bedroom, mesmerizing her from the first glance. "Your room is so pretty!" she says, quickly running around here and there, being careful not to get too close since we haven't gotten a chance to change her dress yet.

"You like it?" I question and she's quick to nod her head again. "I wish my room looked like this" she says, spying all of the little butterfly details from the dainty embroidering on the bedspread to the knobs on the dresser, all of them working in harmony.

"We can go look for some butterfly stuff next time we go to the store if you'd like" Jungkook says while he walks into the room and right up to her while she stares up at the ceiling where there are a couple scattered across it. Nothing is too over the top but there is clearly a theme going on that she is captivated by.

"Really?" she asks, confirmation of what he's said being important to make sure she's hear him right. "Promise" he says holding out his pinky that she quickly wraps her's around as best as she can with her little ones being so tiny in comparison to his. She looks at the two of us before beckoning Jungkook to come closer so she can whisper something in his ear.

"Can the pretty lady come with us too?" she 'whispers' in his ear almost as loud as her speaking voice and I try to hold back my laughter, pretending like I didn't hear a thing. "Why don't you ask her?" he whispers and when he leans back she looks him in the eyes and he nods to further encourage her.

"Um, would you like to go shopping with us to get butterflies for my room too?" she asks, walking up to me shyly. Jungkook looks at me with a soft smile and I notice how the tips of his ears have almost gotten a little pink, his expression soft and charming but his body still showing tell tale signs of nervousness.

"Sure Juni, I'd love to go shopping with you" I say and she giggles in response while running back to her Daddy. "Can we go right now?" she asks jumping up and down. "We'll go another time don't worry baby, we've gotta set up a time so the pretty lady can go with us too right?" he reminds her and although she's sad she has to wait she nods in agreement. "Good, now let's get you out of this so we can make you all nice and clean again" he says, unzipping the back of her dress and revealing the cute little white tank top and tights that she wore under it.

I focus my attention on opening up the closet and grabbing a couple of dresses out for her to choose from. "These ones should fit. Which one would you like to wear Juni?" I say and her eyes flitter back and forth between all of them before giving her a Daddy a devious smile and hugging them to her chest. "I want all of them" she giggles and my heart melts, thinking about how fun it would be if I had a daughter just like her.

"Pick one Juni" Jungkook chuckles and she pulls back flipping through the selection I've made before her eyes light up and find the one she's dying to wear. "This one, this one!" she says, lightly holding onto the skirt and jumping up and down. I shift my grasp on them and hold out the one she chose for Jungkook to take and once he does there a static jolt of electricity that shocks us leaving the both of us pulling away slightly.

"Sorry it's probably from all the fabric of the dresses" I explain and he smiles in response. "Don't worry about it. A little spark never hurt anyone" he says and it's almost as if his voice had dropped a bit with that remark, leaving me widening my eyes a bit before turning back around and placing the dresses back in the closet.

Why does he make me so nervous?

"Lady, lady look!" I hear from behind, and watch as Juni turns this way and that once Jungkook has finished putting the dress on her. "My goodness Juni don't you look adorable!" I say and she runs up to the the mirror in the corner of the room, watching the skirt swish this way and that. "Say thank you Ms y/n" Jungkook says, correcting Juni and finally telling her my name. She sounded too cute calling me 'the pretty lady' I just didn't have the heart to tell her otherwise.

"Thank you Ms y/n!" she says, running up to me and wrapping her arms around my legs since she is still too small to reach anywhere else. "You're welcome Juni" I say, smiling down at her and smoothing her hair down. "Remember Juni, we're just borrowing it so we can wash your dress. We have to give it back to Ms. y/n before we leave" Jungkook says and I can see her excitement dwindle a bit but is no less thankful for being able to wear it tonight.

"Thank you for letting me borrow it Ms. y/n!" she says and I smile again, falling more and more in love with this adorable little girl with every smile she graces me with. "You're welcome" I say and she lets go of me and twirls around in it before stopping.

"Oh! I promise to be really careful and keep this one clean" she says holding out her pinky to do just as she had done with her father moments ago and I kneel down to her level and do just that before booping her on the nose causing another fit of giggles to spill out of her.

"Y/n, dinner is ready" my mother says while poking her head around the corner and I can tell she is completely satisfied by the scene that she's walked in on. "Oh Juni what a beautiful dress!" my mother says, noticing it right away, remembering it was one of my favorites. "Ms y/n gave it to me!" she says, swishing around in it again before doing a full twirl for us.

"Well aren't you the most darling little girl I've ever seen! Are you ready to eat? I heard that mashed potatoes are one of your favorite foods right?" my mom says, holding out her hand for Juni to take and she gladly does.

"Did my grandma tell you that?" she asks, clearly surprised that this complete stranger already knew something about her. "Yes she did. I hope you like them!" my mom says and Juni rushes down the hallway dragging my mom behind her. "Juni be careful!" Jungkook calls out to her but my mom just laughs it off.

"Why don't you show Jungkook where the laundry room is so you can put her dress in the washer" my mom offers up and I nod my head and look up at him. "That's okay I can just wash it when we get home" he says, politely declining the offer. "It's alright, it's best to wash it right away so it doesn't stain" I say, holding out my hand for the dress and he smiles before handing it to me and following my lead.

"You have a lovely home" he says shyly, looking this way and that taking notice of the small details just as Juni did. 'Like father like daughter' I think to myself. "It was my childhood home as you could probably tell from my old room" I say and he hums in response as I stop at the door to the laundry room.

"I know Juni is never going to stop talking about it" he chuckles and I smile at the loving tone that is always present in his voice whenever he speaks about her. We stand there in silence for a bit while I gather the various cleaning products I'll need.

"If you like, I can show you how to get stains like this out? If there was ever a day when I was her age that I didn't get some sort of dirt, mud or grass stains on my clothes my mother would write that down as a national holiday" I say and he laughs at that before accepting the offer.

"Sure, I'd like that" for some reason I can't seem to find the right words so I simply turn around and rinse off the mud in the little sink we have in here. "Do you think you could get that one for me?" I ask, nodding toward one of the stain removers. He wordlessly does as I ask and helps apply a drop or two of it to each of the areas I point out.

"I could've done that" he says now realizing how he's just standing there watching me clean his daughter's dress. "No, that's okay I offered!" I say, reassuring him that I don't mind. I wordlessly ask for the next stain remover before rubbing it in and ringing out the excess water. He opens up the washer lid for me and I toss it in and look this way and that for the laundry detergent.

"Looking for this?" he asks, pulling it off the shelf above the washer. "See, that's a perk of living on my own now. I don't have to worry about things being up too high for me anymore" I chuckle and quickly scoop in the appropriate amount and start the washer.

"Well let me know if you ever need anyone to get something that's out of your reach, it's one of the perks of being tall" he jokes and I laugh but almost shy away from the fact that he expects to see me again. "So I've heard" I say and try to put the detergent back on my own but it soon tips back over and is close to crashing down until he catches it, which in turn ends with him trapping me between him and the washer.

He slides the detergent back in it's spot and takes half a step back, giving me the smallest bit of space. "Why didn't you let me help you? I was standing right here?" he asks, tilting his head at me. "I don't know, I guess I'm just used to doing things on my own now" I chuckle awkwardly. "Well hopefully you'll get used to letting me help you soon" he says, finally taking another step back and giving me a bit more space to breathe.

"Sorry about that" I apologize awkwardly, leaning my back against the washer now with him leaning up against the wall directly in front of me and giving me a crooked smile. "Don't apologize, there's nothing wrong with being independent" he says and quickly scans my body but he does it so fast that if I would've blinked I would've missed it.

"Daddy it's time for dinner" Juni says, her soft steps not having been heard by either of us over the sound of the washer, breaking us out of the little moment that we had been having. "Okay Juni we're coming" he chuckles and holds out his hand for her to take but she giggles and dodges it, reaching for mine instead.

I squeeze past Jungkook as this little room is only wide enough for one person to walk through and the front of our bodies brush up against each other only for a moment until she's tugged me halfway out the door. "Let's be a train Daddy! Grab onto Ms. y/n's hand so you can be the caboose!" she says, turning this trip down the hallway into a game.

"Oh that's okay sweetie why don't you-" he starts but I hold out my hand for him to take, him only having refused for my sake, not wanting to make me uncomfortable with any unwanted skinship. "Grab on Daddy!" Juni giggles and I look up at him and see that he's looking down at me. He chuckles before grabbing onto my hand and the both of us are soon trailing behind Juni as she drags us to the dining room.

Once we get to the dinner table Juni lets go of my hand and runs back to where Jungkook's mom is so she can continue to help her eat her mashed potatoes.

When everyone notices that Jungkook and I have arrived, we're greeted with four sets of eyes, all of them extremely happy to see us. It's then when I realize that we were still holding hands so I gently slide mine out of his, almost wishing I didn't have to.

He looks down at where our hands had been connected when I do and I can almost see that he's also disappointed that I let go but his expression is quickly replaced by an awkward smile aimed at our parents.

When I look at the table I see that Jungkook and I are meant to sit directly across from each other. Which I'm sure is another one of my mother's ploys to get us to keep glancing up at each other, this time though I don't really mind.

When I go to walk to one side to sit down next to Mr. Jeon, Jungkook follows right behind me.

"Oh did you want to sit on this side?" I ask him and he shakes his head, "No, I just wanted to pull your chair out for you" he says and I feel butterflies in my stomach. "Oh, okay" I say quietly and watch as he does just that and slides the chair in behind me once I've sat down. "Thank you" I reply, smiling up at him and he does so in return before rounding the table to take a seat in his place.

"So y/n, your mother told us that you work in photography, is that right?" she asks and I take a drink of water before responding. "Well not really, I've done a few freelance jobs here and there. Enough to keep me afloat so to say but I hope to do it full time soon!" I say and I see Jungkook perk up at that.

"Jungkook has always loved photography as well! He's always been tinkering away with cameras since he was just a few years older than Juni" his mother says while Jungkook cleans off Juni's face as it seems like she's gotten more food on her face than in her mouth.

"What subject do you usually shoot?" I ask, curious to see where his interests lie. "Mostly editorial, but I tend to enjoy the shoots a lot more when they have to do with nature. I believe beauty can be found in almost anything so I tend to just capture whatever inspires me at the moment" he says, his answer being very similar to mine.

"I feel the same way" I respond simply before shying away from the topic as I feel our parents are studying our interaction.

Once they notice the silence they decide to pick up the conversation just throwing facts about Jungkook and I back and forth, pretty much doing the getting to know you game for us without giving us much room to get a word in edgewise. Which leaves the both of us to just follow the conversation and occasionally making eye contact when either side makes a slightly embarrassing comment.

"Hey Dad" Jungkook calls out to his father over the never ending conversation they're having about us. "How's that new project at work going?" he says and I can already tell that it's one of those kinds of topics that once you get him started on it he won't stop and that's just the case as we now watch the conversation take a turn that is thankfully so far off from the two of us.

As time ticks by and the subjects change a few more times I notice that Jungkook has started to get up and clear the table to which I jump up in response to help him.

"Oh Jungkook don't worry about that I can do it later" my mother says but he shakes his head. "It's the least I could do after you've provided this wonderful dinner for my family and I" he says and I can almost see my mother swooning from his response. "Well thank you very much, sweetie can you show him where to place them, just next to the sink is fine" she says to me and I nod, looking up at him and nodding my head towards the direction of the kitchen.

Once we've gone there and back from the table a few times I decide to just start loading up the dishwasher, trying to escape that mortifying conversation for as long as I can. "I brought your glass for you. Wasn't sure if you were planning to finish it or not" he says, walking over and placing my wine glass on the counter next to me. "Thanks" I say quietly, neither of us having said a word to each other since the very beginning of that dinner.

"Your parents are really sweet" he says, breaking the ice and clearly acknowledging how obvious they all were about their motives. "Yours too. I'm sorry about tonight" I say and his brows furrow, clearly not understanding why I would need to apologize. "I knew my mom would end up doing something like this but once her mind is made up there's no stopping her" I admit and he gives me a crooked smile in response.

"Don't worry, I knew what all of them were up to too. My mother was praising you so much and telling me how beautiful and smart and respectful you are so I had an inkling that this was their plan all along" he says and I turn away from him, trying to hide my flustered expression.

"She's right you know" he says, coming around to stand next to me, leaning against the counter while I face it, cleaning up the inside of the sink and grabbing the towel next to me to dry my hands.

"Right about what?" I question, now turning to face him and noticing just how close he's gotten. "About how beautiful you are" he says and I have to blink a few times, trying to figure out why this incredibly handsome man in my kitchen is flirting with me.

I just wanna thank past me because whatever I did in my last life must've been incredible if I'm being offered up a man as remarkable as he is.

"I-" I start but am soon interrupted by my mom walking in on us. "Y/n could you- oh! I'm sorry, as you were" she says, taking small backward steps out of the kitchen, keeping hers eyes on the two of us before turning around to walk back to the living room that they had moved to.

"I'm sorry about her" I say, taking a drink of my wine but he laughs it off. "It's alright, I don't mind" he says watching me with curious eyes as I polish off the rest of it. "Juni has taken a real liking to you" he says and my heart melts at the sound of her name.

"Really? She's probably the happiest child I've ever seen. I really like her too" I say and he smiles, no doubts memories over the years flashing through his head.

"You've done a really good job raising her Jungkook" I say, and his eyes flutter back to mine, this time being the first time I've spoken his name and it looks as if just that alone brought him so much satisfaction. "Thank you y/n" he says, and I feel my heart flutter, the deep baritone of his voice sending a shiver down my spine.

"Daddy can I have some cake?" we hear as Juni walks into the kitchen, "Can I have some cake..." Jungkook says, trailing off and waiting for those magic words. "Please?" she says, realizing what he had been getting at.

"Sure baby, Ms. y/n and I will bring it out in a second okay?" he says making her smile as she runs out of the kitchen "Thank you" she calls out over her shoulder leaving the two of us laughing at her enthusiasm.

"That's probably what my mom was coming in to ask us for" I say and he nods in agreement, helping me carry everything out so we can all have a slice of the small cake my mom had gotten for tonight. "How much you want to bet that they sent Juni looking for us earlier too?" he whispers to me as we make our way over to where everyone else has gathered. "You might be right about that one" I whisper back, quickly catching onto all of their little games.

After setting the cake and all of the plates and forks down on the coffee table my mom takes on the task of cutting it up and serving it, with the very first piece going to little Miss Juni. "Thank you!" she says, eyes wide as saucers leaving all of us cooing at her. "Eat slow Juni" Jungkook reminds her, no doubt having troubles with her eating her desserts too quickly.

I take on the task of helping my mother hand out the slices and once I give one to Jungkook I finally notice that the only empty seat is right next to him and he looks down at it before looking back up at me in a silent invitation to sit down and I take it cautiously.

The couch that we're sitting on is kind of a love seat ironically, seeing as the whole theme of tonight is trying to set us up with each other.

Once I've sat down I realize that I've sat right next to him to the point of where my shoulder ended up bumping into his. "Oh! I'm sorry" I say, scooting away from him but with the size of the couch I don't really end up moving all that much. "It's okay I don't mind" he says, before taking a bite of his cake and turning to face the rest of the group.

The seven of us continue talking and talking until we notice that Juni has fallen asleep in her grandma's lap. "Here mom let me take her" Jungkook says, standing up but both my mom and his stand up and wave him off. "That's okay, we're just gonna go put her down in y/n's room" my mom says and before he's able to say otherwise they've disappeared down the hallway.

"Does she have school tomorrow?" I ask once he's settled back down. "No, she's on spring break right now until next Monday" he relays and I nod my head. "And what about you? Do you work tomorrow?" I ask and he gives me a shy smile before responding. "I had a shoot scheduled in the morning but we went ahead and pushed it to the afternoon so I don't have to worry about going home anytime soon" he says and my heart skips a beat.

"No, I mean, well I don't want to keep you for too long. You probably have other things you'd like to get done tonight?" I ask and he shakes his head. "No, this is the only thing I have planned for the night so I guess you're stuck with me" he chuckles. "I didn't mean to make you feel like I wanted you to leave I just-"

"It's okay I know what you meant" he laughs and I now take notice that we're the only ones left in the room. "Oh! Where did my dad go?" I ask, my eyes darting this way and that, not even being able to hear his voice.

"I think I heard something about them setting up the fire pit? I'm not sure but he's outside with my dad right now" he says and I spy both of them looking through the glass door before quickly ducking out of view once they realize they've been spotted.

"Maybe we should head out there" I say but he cuts off that thought by asking me a question that keeps me frozen on the spot.

"Is there a reason why you don't want to be alone with me?" he asks, arm now having been draped around the back of the couch a while ago, completely unknown to me making this all seem a lot more intimate than before.

"Who said that?" I chuckle nervously, clearing my throat before sinking back into my seat. "You just did" he says, nodding towards me and I feel like I want to crawl in a hole and die. I thought I could escape this night without being awkward like this but I guess not.

"You trying to get rid of me?" he teases and I shake my head right away, "No I'm sorry I just-" "It's okay, I'm only joking" he says and I laugh nervously. "So why don't you tell me about yourself?" he says, giving me the most open ended question ever and I scramble to find something but I just can't seem to come up with anything interesting enough to mention.

"Well, my parents pretty much said everything there is to know about me over dinner earlier" I say and he shakes his head. "I want to hear something about you from you. Like what are some of your hope, your dreams, something you're passionate about" he says, being a little more specific this time.

"My dreams?" I trail off, thinking for a second and he watches me as I wrack my brain for something notable. "It's kind of silly" I admit once I've settled on something. "Good thing I've got a sense of humor" he replies, trying to encourage me to continue.

"Well, I've always wanted one of my photos to be on the cover of TIME magazine" I admit and see his eyes light up. "I have a similar dream" he says and my eyes widen in surprise turning my body to face him, wordlessly asking him to share his too.

"I'd like one of mine to end up on the cover of National Geographic" he relays and I smile in turn. "That would be perfect for you! Well, since the subject you love to capture the most is nature I could definitely see your work fitting right in!" I say, excited to see someone else who's trying to aim as high as I am.

"And I could see yours being a shoe in for TIME as well" he says, and I shy away from his praise. "Okay and what's something you're passionate about, and don't say photography" he says, interrupting me causing me to slump down, having to take another second to come up with an answer.

He chuckles a bit at my reaction and I glare at him causing him to smile at me even more so look up to the celling as if it had the answers to something interesting about me.

"Well, I really love reading. I know it might not seem like a passion but when I read a really good book and I find someone who has read it or will at least let me talk about it it's as if I gain a boost of energy and can't contain my excitement. That's definitely the nerdy side of me showing but that's all I can really think of at the moment" I say honestly and when I look back at him it's as if he thought I was the most fascinating thing he's ever seen.

"Sorry, I think I got a little carried away there" I say, getting shy from being looked at like that, his soft gaze an expression I'm not used to, especially from someone I just met. "Um, your turn" I say, hoping to get some of the spotlight off of me.

"I know this might be cheating but I do enjoy taking video and editing them. Even if it were as simple as filming Juni for an afternoon, it's something that if given the chance, would be something I could be extremely passionate about" he says and although it is cheating since it's somewhat similar to photography, I'll let it slide.

"Have you thought about switching up your profession to include video as well as pictures?" I ask and he nods before answering. "I have but I haven't taken enough time to seriously consider it. Juni is still young and I want to make sure I have a stable income in order to take care of her and if I'm being honest I feel almost as if a career change could jeopardize that" he says and I watch him with the same intent that he had given me and he too seems to shy away from it.

"It's silly since it would probably be a seamless transition but I can't help but feel reservations towards it" he says and I place my hand on top of his that's in his lap.

"It's normal for a parent to worry about providing for their child. I don't think it's silly at all and it shows how much you truly care about Juni and her well being. She's lucky to have you as her father" I say and he cringes only for a moment before his expression goes back to a softer one. I want to ask what would've warranted a reaction like that but I leave it alone.

"Okay your turn, what is something you hope for?" he asks and I already know the answer to it but I'm hesitant to say. I take a second to try and figure out how to formulate it properly but decide to just go for it.

"I hope to be a mother and have children of my own someday. Doesn't matter if it's naturally or through adoption, I just hope to have someone I can love and care for unconditionally and watch them as they grow and change and pray I'll receive that love and care back from them" I say and he gives me a wary expression and I quickly try to backtrack, not knowing if I've messed up or not.

"I'm sorry that was probably extremely insensitive of me" I say, pulling away my hand but he holds onto it and gives me a sad smile before responding. "I think you would be a wonderful mother. If you were to give your children even half the time and attention you've given to Juni today they would still be incredibly lucky to call you their mother" he says, reassuring me that it's okay to talk about these topics around him.

"Last one?" I question, seeing if he's up to telling me something he's hopeful for. "I just hope that no matter what my family and friends stay happy and healthy. It might be simple but I enjoy the simple things in life" he says and I smile, seeing how truly kind and compassionate he is just from his simple answer. "That's a good answer" I say and we both chuckle a bit before we're broken out of yet again another moment by the sound of our mothers stumbling into the room.

"Oh don't let us bother you we're just going to head outside with your father" Jungkook's mom says to him and I can see now from the warm glow shining through the glass door that they've finally started up the fire pit.

"Oh we'll come outside too!" I say and try to get up off the loveseat. I'm able to stand but immediately lose my balance and feel a strong set of hands on my hips and end up falling into Jungkook's lap. "I-" I start, turning towards him and trying to get out an apology but stop short when I see how close his face is to mine, our noses almost touching.

I hear our mothers head outside quickly and close the door but neither of us pay any mind, both focused on each other to the point where neither of us move for what feels like forever but was only a matter of seconds. When I do try to get up I feel his grip on me tighten.

"I'm s-sorry, this couch is always difficult to get off of" I explain and he smiles. "Like I said before, you have nothing to apologize for" he says, his voice a bit deeper than before and it takes every fiber of my being to stop myself from looking at his lips but when I see his flutter down to mine I can't help but do the same.

"Daddy, why is Ms. y/n sitting on your lap?" we hear Juni say and I immediately get off of him and throw my face in my hands, trying to hide the embarrassment written all over me but Jungkook handles it like a champ.

"Ms. y/n just fell down Juni and I caught her. You know how I catch you sometimes before you fall?" he offers and she walks over to us, rubbing her eyes and immediately climbing onto Jungkook's lap. "Oh okay" she says, yawning again after Jungkook places a kiss on the crown of her head.

"Do you wanna go see the fire that grandpa and Ms. y/n's dad made?" he asks and she hums in approval, still half asleep but wanting to go outside with everyone. "Okay let's go" he says, standing up with Juni in one arm and holding his hand out to help me up. I glare up at him and he smiles, knowing he's added to my embarrassment but I take his hand anyways and he makes no moves to let go once I'm up on my feet, walking us all towards the back door.

Once we're outside though that's when he lets go so he can hold Juni properly while he walks down the patio steps so we can get to the fire pit.

"Juni woke up?" his mother asks and Jungkook nods. "Yeah she wanted to come outside with everyone even though she is still very very sleepy" he says, talking in a silly sweet voice that makes Juni pout although her eyes are still closed. "I'm not sleepy" she says mid yawn causing me to coo at her and when she realizes I'm still close by she sits up off of Jungkook's chest and reaches towards me.

I look between her and Jungkook for a second and he nods his head in approval and hands her to me, grabbing a chair afterwards for me to sit on and pulling up another one next to mine and looks over at Juni to see she's practically sound asleep again. "Are you okay with her?" he asks and I hum in approval leaving him placing another kiss on Juni's head before leaning back in his chair.

"So Jungkook, what do you think of my daughter?" my mother asks and Jungkook chokes on air, not expecting the straightforward question. "Mom!" I scold and she chuckles, "What? It's a simple question. No need to give a complex answer, unless he wants to" she teases and I swear I can even hear Jungkook's dad chuckling at my mother's antics.

They couldn't make it more obvious that they're trying to set us up even if they tried.

My dad luckily somewhat comes to Jungkook's aide and hands him a bottle of water to hopefully help him stop coughing which it does thankfully.

He takes a second to clear his throat and I would be lying if I said I wasn't on edge, waiting to hear what his answer might be. "I think she is a very kind hearted and very intelligent young woman" he says simply and the echos of him calling me beautiful earlier on tonight attach to the end of that.

"And would you like to see her again?" she continues and he then looks over at me, giving me a soft smile and glancing down at Juni before looking me in the eyes again. "We've already planned to see each other again" he says, memories of Juni's invitation to the butterfly shopping trip fluttering through my mind again.

"Did you hear that? Jungkook has already asked to see her again" my mom says, calling over to Jungkook's mom as if she hadn't been listening the whole time. "Well technically Juni asked if I could go shopping with them" I explain and Jungkook chuckles. "Juni is a very smart girl" my mother compliments and Jungkook and I can't help but laugh.

The rest of the night flies by and before I know it we're already standing in the doorway saying goodbye. "It's was so nice seeing you again y/n! I hope to be seeing you again soon" Jungkook mom says, winking at me. "Oh come on honey leave the girl alone" Jungkook's dad says, coming to my aide and saying his goodbyes as well.

Jungkook's parents say a quick goodbye to Jungkook and Juni as well since they came in separate cars and I notice after that my dad pulls Jungkook aside and says something that I regretfully can't make out. Luckily he doesn't seem bothered by it as they smile and shake hands before my dad pats him on the back, sending him off with I can only assume is well wishes.

Jungkook says goodbye to my mother and I can tell how much she's praising him, he thanks her for everything and makes his way over to me a few moments later and it's almost as if it was a ghost town with only Jungkook and I in the entryway now, with him holding a still very sleepy Juni in his arms.

"Thank you for coming, I know this was probably a lot for you" I say, rocking back and forth on my heels and he smiles before answering. "I had fun, and I know Juni did too" he says and I can feel my heart skip a beat, "I did too" I reply shyly. He reaches into his pocket and unlocks his phone before handing it to me.

"Do you think I could have your number? You know, so we can set up that shopping day soon? I know Juni won't be able to stop talking about it until we go" he says, turning into what I could only describe as a shy teenage boy, asking his crush for her number. "Sure" I say, putting it in and calling my number so I have his too.

"Let me know when you get home safe" I say and place my hand on Juni's back and whisper a quick goodbye which regrettably stirs her awake and I mouth a quite sorry to Jungkook but he smiles in response.

"Wanna say goodbye to Ms. y/n?" Jungkook asks and she nods her head before opening her eyes and leaning towards me to give me a kiss on the cheek leaving me speechless. "Goodnight pretty lady" she mumbles before laying back down on Jungkook's chest. He chuckles after seeing my reaction and gives Juni a kiss on her head in response.

"Goodnight y/n" he whispers to me and I send him the same sentiment, walking him to the door and watching as he walks over to his car while he puts Juni in her carseat. He looks back to see if I'm still watching and smiles at me again before getting in his car and driving off.

"So should I schedule an appointment with the caterers tomorrow or...?" I hear my mother say behind me, making me jump before taking a few steps back into the house and closing the door. "Very funny mom" I say, walking over to the living room and plopping down on the couch Jungkook and I had been sharing a couple hours ago.

"What's wrong? He's a nice man isn't he? Plus his daughter seems like she loves you! Why don't you give it a shot?" she asks and I sigh, sinking further back into the couch. "I don't know, I just don't want to get my hopes up" I mumble and she sits next to me, placing a comforting hand on my thigh. "What makes you say that?" she asks curiously.

"It's almost as if he's too perfect. He's handsome, charming, charismatic, a great dad and I don't know, he just seems too good to be true" I admit and she nods her head, understanding my hesitation. "Everyone puts their best foot forward when they're meeting someone for the first time. Just go out with him and Juni in a few days and keep an open mind. It's not the fact that he has Juni that's holding you back right?" she questions, trying to figure out what exactly has got me doubting.

"No not at all! If anything Juni is an added bonus" I say truthfully and she smiles at me. "Good, because I think she's already become very attached to you" she says and I nod my head. "Yeah I think I have too" I mumble and she claps her hands, jolting me out of my train of thought.

"Now all we have to do is get a ring attached to that finger and the three of you can live happily ever after" she says, getting up to clean up the cake plates that sit on the coffee table in front of us.

"Mom" I groan and she laughs, "I want some beautiful grandchildren and if that handsome young man can't help you give them to me then I don't know who could" she continues leaving me sighing, not bothering to argue back since she is definitely right about that one.

I hear my phone chime in my purse moments later after I walk into my bedroom to gather up my things to go back home and see a message from an unknown number but check my call log and see that the numbers match up from when I called myself off Jungkook's phone.

I quickly add him to my contacts before opening up our chat and see a short but sweet message from him.

'Home safe and sound. Thanks for having us tonight. Hope to see you soon?' he sends with a question mark at the end, clearly still wanting to double check on if I'll actually want to see them again. I wait a few seconds, my thumbs hovering over the keyboard before finally composing a message and hitting send before I chicken out.

'See you soon Jungkook. I really enjoyed getting to know you and Juni. Looking forward to shopping for butterflies together!' I say and cringe once I reread it. 'Ugh could I possibly sound more desperate?' I say to myself and toss my phone on the bed, sitting down at the computer chair across from it.

A minute later I hear another message come in and I practically lunge for the phone, praying I didn't weird him out but moments later I feel heat rushing to my cheeks and have to will myself into not squealing.

'We're counting down the minutes until we can see you again. Let's talk tomorrow and set up a date and time' he says and I rush to respond.

'Sounds great! Goodnight Jungkook' I say, ending the conversation before I end up embarrassing myself even more but before I can even lock my phone his message pops up.

'Goodnight y/n, sweet dreams' the message is so simple but it still makes me smile.

"Is that Jungkook texting you?" my mom asks, poking her head into the room and I quickly lock my phone and grab my purse. "Yes it is, goodnight mom" I say, walking past her and straight to the front door with her trailing after me. "Oh come on sweetie you know I'm just teasing you. I really think he's going to be a good match for you" she says and I turn to face her before I leave.

"I really hope so. Say goodnight to dad for me" I say giving her a kiss on the cheek and getting in my car to drive home.

~~~~

Once I walk in I'm greeted again by Salem and he walks up, waiting for me to pick him up. "You're such a little baby you know that?" I chuckle and he meows in response.

I follow the same routine as I always do, carrying him with me into my room and rambling off to him about my day before hopping in the shower but this time I have a lot more to say, leaving me wasting half the hot water and causing me to have to finish up the last bit of my shower in a freezing cold stream.

After finishing up and finally settling into bed I lay down and Salem curls up next to me. "Things might be changing around here boy. I only hope they're for the better, what do you think?" I ask after having told him everything and I'm met with the feeling of him purring and if that isn't a good sign then I don't know what is.

"I hope he likes cats" I say, giving him one last pet before turning off the light and for the first time in a very long time I can finally say I've gone to sleep feeling content. The last thought that runs through my head is one that helps me fall asleep with a soft smile on my face.

I can't wait to see him again...

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ily-sunghoon · 11 months ago

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The Omen of Sterling | ENHYPEN

Pairing : vampire!enhypen x fem!oc

Genre : vampire, kingdom, reverse harem <3, fluff, angst, smut on some chapters

Summary : The name Sterling hits like thunder for the royal bloodlines. Sterling is the most dangerous vampire family throughout the ages. After they left Krashoviel due to their sweet human daughter, twenty-one years later the same daughter came back for help... or the omen that Cairneyes warned the others about.

WARNINGS : mdni, heavy content, deep world building (i went kinda crazy), blood, murder, manipulation, gaslighting, toxic behavior, curses, religious theme mentioned sometimes, obsessive, (more to add later). DO NOT PROCEED if uncomfortable

Disclaimer : THIS IS PURE FICTION, ALL THE BEHAVIORS OF MY CHARACTERS ARE NOT RELATED TO ENHYPEN REAL MEMBERS AT ALL!

Note : hi, guys. i finally contribute to the enhablr community by publishing this old draft that i wrote years ago. it was inspired by one of my loooong dream that i had on christmas eve night back then in 2020. i decided to stick on the original names that i have for them. all the fem characters doesn't have any face claims, i leave them to your imaginations. some random male idols might appear in the future as relatives/enemy/friends. without further do, meet the characters and i hope you guys enjoy!

CHAPTERS — PROLOGUE CHAPTER I CHAPTER II CHAPTER III CHAPTER IV

Introduction to our vampires:

Jestel Sinflame

/jé-ssel/ 299 years old — The rightful crown prince of Krashoviel. Choosing peace over war right now (living under the same roof as his brother-like best friends rather than in the sucking dry and toxic castle). A little bit classist like his family, Sinflame, except towards Ricardo, who he saw the potential of that kid himself. His parents died during the Red War and now he’s trying his hardest to contact his brother, Holstein, who also got lost in the war.

Sarco Phelanflame

/sár-ko/ 288 years old — Phelanflame has always been the first row at wars. They’re the leader of the soldiers. Very strong since birth with a little sadistic tendency. Their personality is cold, much colder than the other vampires around Krashoviel. If not cold, they’re always a little bit of an oddball. All the elders in his family were deceased during the last war. Now, Phelanflame only has three members, including Sarco and his two other cousins.

Ricardo Nikolai

/ree-kár-do/ 20 years old — Came from an orphanage, Ricardo is a third-class vampire in Krashoviel. He got lucky because Jestel and Sarco saw his potential while visiting his orphanage, they took him home and gave him all the facilities he needed. Ricardo likes to play fight with almost everybody, but his favorite activity to do is disturbing Jusarlie’s peace.

Jasper

/jæs-per/ approximately 23 years old — A new vamp who was found in the woods during their monthly patrolling. No one knows about his background, he lost his memory, so they named him Jasper.

Saine Cairneye

/sāin/ 201 years old — Grandson of the current Queen on the throne. His mother died during the war. The Cairneye bloodline is in charge of magick, witchcraft, astrology, omen, and so on. Their current job is reading people intentions and possible-futures with their crazy personality tests. They are blessed with good physical appearance, and all of them look like elves. They have a silly little hobby, which is accidentally having a vision that scares the royal family a.k.a Sinflame!

Jusarlie Grieffang

/jou-sār-lee/ 297 years old — Grieffang, the fang of Krashoviel. They are the greatest strategists and professors, Grieffang is one of the keys of Krashoviel’s endless winning of wars. They’re still relatives with Sinflame. Jusarlie is Jestel’s distant nephew, though their age gap is not far. Rival kingdoms tried to kidnap and use Grieffangs against Krashoviel during their wars, but it was no use, Grieffangs are loyal and far smarter than them. Plenty of them are still alive after the wars along with Sinflames.

Hiael Von Ruden

/heeæl/ 314 years old — His original nation is Slevado, Hiael was a crown prince. He turned his back after the Red War, and it creates a huge controversy. He is now working under Jestel’s command and is currently busy training Jasper. He’s reserved, calm, to the point where it becomes scary rather than comforting for his surroundings. No one knows what is on his mind, but for Jestel, as long as he has made a blood pact then he’s good.

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shelovesosa · 19 days ago

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CTRL + ALT + LOVE

paring: Fictional!Satoru X F!Reader

art credits to scarlettismm on X!

sum!! After staying up late reading an emotional fanfic, a college student wakes to find the fictional love interest—Satoru Gojo—somehow real and lying beside her. Confused and out of place in the real world, Satoru begins to unravel. As they grow closer, they share laughter, secrets, and something deeper… even as time threatens to take him away. But sometimes, endings aren’t what they seem.

CW: MDNI, Romance,Contemporary Fantasy, Soft Sci-Fi, Magical Realism, Bittersweet, Angst with comfort, Temporary Love, Borrowed Time, Soft Smut, First Time Together, nerdjo cameo, soft dom, Memory Loss / Fading Reality Unexpected Second Chance. WC: 10.9k

It’s 1:41 a.m., your eyes are puffy, your nose is running, and you’ve just finished sobbing over a fictional man named Satoru who doesn’t even exist. And yet, somehow, he broke your heart like he did.

You’re curled up on your side in bed, blanket cocooned around you, the glow of your laptop screen still burning into your tired, emotional retinas. You knew what kind of fic it was going in—CEO AU, enemies-to-lovers, workplace drama. Classic. But nowhere in the tags did it say “character death.”

You sniffle loudly and scroll back to reread the last paragraph, as if torturing yourself again will somehow dull the pain.

“I should’ve said it sooner,” he whispered, blood soaking into the snow, eyes never leaving hers. “It was always you.”

The lights from the city faded behind him. And he didn’t blink again.

[End.]

You slam your hands on the keyboard.

“You’re kidding me,” you mutter out loud, nose stuffy and voice cracking. “You killed him? Seriously?! You made me sit through twenty chapters of slow-burn sexual tension, one shared bed trope, three almost-kisses and a forehead touch—just for this?”

You groan, throwing your arm over your face dramatically.

“God, I hate you, Satoru,” you whisper into your pillow. “I hate your stupid perfect face, and your ice-cold business demeanor, and your secretly soft heart, and the way you just died before you even got to live.”

You roll over, flinging a crumpled tissue at your desk.You sniff, dragging your fingers cross the keyboard to angrily type into the comments.

You:

@shelovesosa HOW DARE YOU. Fix it. Fix it right now or I’ll manifest this man into my bed myself.

“Stupid author,” you add bitterly. “Oh Sosa. May your coffee always be lukewarm and your favorite show get canceled on a cliffhanger.”

You slam the laptop shut and toss it aside.

With a final sniff, you curl deeper into your sheets. Your brain is spinning in post-fanfic grief. You mumble one last thing, more out of sleep-deprived delirium than real intent:

“…I wish he were real.” You fall asleep with the ache of unfinished stories in your chest.

The morning comes too fast. You’re groggy, head foggy from too many dreams and too little sleep. Your alarm bleats somewhere in the background as you reach to turn it off.

Except your hand doesn’t land on your phone.

It lands on something warm. And solid. And breathing. You freeze. Your eyes fly open.

There’s a shape beside you in bed. A weight. The blankets are shifted, your mattress slightly dipped like someone else is laying there. Slowly, you turn your head.

And the world tilts. There’s a man in your bed. White hair. Pale skin. Shirtless. Lean muscle. His face is turned toward the window, but even from this angle— It’s him. Your heart lurches.

Satoru. Not cosplay. Not a dream. Not just similar. It’s Satoru, exactly as he was in the fanfic. Down to the small scar above his brow the author described in chapter six.

Your lips part, no sound coming out. You're frozen. Shaking.

He stirs. Brows knit. Eyes flutter. And slowly, his lashes lift. Blue eyes. He sees you. And everything happens at once.

He jolts upright, sheets sliding off his bare chest. You scream. He flinches.

“Wh—what the hell?!” he chokes, eyes wild. “Where—what is this?! Who are you?!”

You scramble back, nearly falling out of bed. “Me?! Who are YOU?! This is my room!”

He stares at you, chest heaving. “No. No, this isn’t… This isn’t right.”

He looks around, dazed. Confused. His voice is raspy, like it hurts to speak.

“I was in Tokyo,” he murmurs, more to himself than you. “It was snowing. I was bleeding. I was with—” He swallows, eyes darting toward you again. “Where is she?”

You blink. “Who?”

He stares. His voice breaks.

“…You’re not her.”

Something cold seeps into your spine. Because you know who he means. The her from the fanfic. The girl he loved before he died.

“But you’re not real,” you whisper. “You’re fictional. You died. I read it last night—I read your death—”

“I remember dying,” he snaps, voice shaking. “I felt it. I saw her crying. And then I woke up here.”

You both sit in stunned silence.

He presses a palm to his forehead. “This is a nightmare. I’m dreaming. Or— Or I was rewritten. Or this is some kind of punishment—”

You crawl slowly to the edge of the bed, still watching him like he might vanish.

“I think I summoned you,” you say weakly. “I cursed the author. As a joke. I said I wished you were real.”

He glares at you like you’re insane. But underneath it all—his trembling fingers, the way he keeps glancing around the room, the panic in his breathing—you see it:

He’s terrified. And it makes your heart hurt.

“…I want to go back,” he finally says.

Your throat tightens. “I don’t know how.”

He stares at you like it’s your fault. Maybe it is.

You clutch your sheets and whisper, “You’re not supposed to be here.”

His voice is flat.

“You’re not supposed to be her.”

You’ve never wanted to faint so badly in your life. He’s still sitting in your bed—your stupid college dorm twin XL bed—with your blush-pink blanket slung over his lap like that’s the most offensive part of all this.

His chest rises and falls in shallow breaths, and he’s still staring at the wall like it might open up and take him back to wherever he came from. Fiction. Paper. Imagination.

But now he's here. And he’s not pixelated or made of words. He’s real.

“I need to go back,” he mutters again. “She’s waiting.”

You chew your lip. “She’s not real.”

He flinches like you slapped him.

“I mean, she was real to you,” you add quickly. “But… she’s just words. I read her. She’s a reader-insert. She’s a blank space.”

“No,” he says, voice firm. “She was real. I loved her.”

You fall quiet. What are you supposed to say? Sorry, she was just me with better confidence and no student loans?

You sit down slowly on the edge of the bed. Satoru tenses, but doesn’t move.

“This is going to sound absolutely insane,” you start carefully, “but I think I pulled you out of your story. I was mad at the ending, I said I wished you were real, and then… this happened.”

He scoffs. “So I’m a pity project. Great.”

You frown. “No! You weren’t supposed to actually show up! I thought maybe I’d dream about you or something, not… wake up with you in my bed, very shirtless and very confused.”

You realize you’re staring at his chest. You immediately look away.

“This is a glitch,” he mutters. “Some kind of cruel rewrite. I shouldn’t be here.”

You glance at him. “Do you… remember everything?”

He nods. “Every scene. Every chapter. I remember dying.”

There’s a long pause.

“God,” you whisper. “That’s so messed up.”

He finally laughs—but it’s not a happy sound. It’s dry. Hollow. “Tell me about it.”

You rub your eyes. “Okay. Look. We have two problems.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Only two?”

“One,” you hold up a finger, “we don’t know how you got here. Two… you’re glitching.”

He stiffens. “What do you mean?”

“You were flickering,” you say, voice soft. “Just for a second. Like… your edges blurred. Like a dream.”

He doesn’t respond. His jaw clenches, like he felt it, too.

“…So I’m not stable.”

You say nothing. After a moment, he exhales and slumps back slightly.

“God, this is pathetic,” he mutters. “I was the most powerful man in the city. I could ruin a company with one phone call. I had private jets. Now I don’t even have pants.”

You try—try—not to laugh.

“I can get you pants,” you offer.

His eyes narrow. “Don’t pity me.”

“I’m not pitying you,” you lie. “I just don’t think walking around shirtless in a college dorm is going to help your situation.”

He mutters something under his breath but doesn’t argue.

You grab a pair of sweatpants from your drawer and toss them at him. “Bathroom’s down the hall. You’re gonna have to sneak.”

He catches them with ease and stands, still moving like he owns a twenty-story skyscraper. You try not to stare at his back as he walks to the door.

He turns the knob, then pauses.

“…What’s your name?” he asks, glancing back at you.

You blink. “Y/N.”

He stares for a beat.

Then says, quietly, “I don’t remember that being in the story.”

You smile a little. “That’s because I wasn’t in it.”

He hesitates. Then opens the door and vanishes into the hallway.

You spend the next fifteen minutes pacing your room like it’s about to burst into flames. There’s a fictional man in your dorm bathroom.

You summoned him. You broke something. Maybe the universe. Maybe yourself.

He’s glitching. You don’t know how long he has. And he’s desperate to get back to a girl who doesn’t exist. But for some reason, he’s still here. Still real. And you don’t know what that means yet.

You’re sitting on the edge of your twin bed, clutching a lukewarm cup of instant coffee and trying not to spiral. Because this is real.

It’s not a dream. Not some grief hallucination brought on by staying up too late reading slow-burn fanfiction and eating sour gummies. There’s no typo, no delete button, no author’s note to reverse what’s happened.

Satoru is here.

The fictional man you loved and mourned and cursed the night before is now somewhere in your dorm’s communal bathroom, wearing your ex’s old sweatpants and the expression of someone who’s been yanked out of death and dumped into a college campus like a tossed USB file.

You stare at the door until it creaks open.

He steps inside cautiously, drying his hands on the front of his hoodie. His white hair is still damp, falling slightly in his eyes. He looks softer like this, like less of the towering CEO you met through carefully crafted prose and more like a very lost man who’s trying not to shatter.

You clear your throat. “Everything okay?”

He looks at you, nods stiffly, then glances around the room again like he still can’t quite believe where he is.

“I counted six women brushing their teeth in one bathroom,” he says, sitting on the desk chair like it offends him. “One of them offered me dry shampoo. I don’t know what that is.”

You snort into your cup. “Welcome to dorm life.”

He doesn’t laugh. He just studies you with unreadable eyes. Sharp and searching. Like you’re an answer he doesn’t want to need.

“This place…” he murmurs, gesturing vaguely to your walls cluttered with sticky notes and fairy lights, “this isn’t… scripted.”

You raise a brow. “No. That’s kind of how real life works.”

He leans back, rubbing a hand over his mouth.

“You said I’m not supposed to exist here. So what does that mean? Am I… fading? Am I going to just—stop?”

Your throat tightens. You’ve been wondering the same thing.

“I don’t know,” you admit quietly. “But you’re still here now. That has to mean something.”

He exhales, head tilting back to stare at the ceiling.

You watch him in silence. His hands are resting on his thighs, long fingers twitching slightly like he’s resisting the urge to reach for something. A phone. A pen. Her. You put your coffee down.

“Look,” you say softly, “I know I’m not her. And I didn’t mean for this to happen. But until we figure out what’s going on, maybe you should just… stay.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Here?”

You nod, cheeks warming. “Just for now. You clearly have nowhere else to go. And I don’t think you're ready to navigate student housing or explain why you don’t have ID.”

Satoru stares at you like the concept of help is foreign. Which, based on the version of him you read about, it probably is.

Finally, he murmurs, “I don’t want your pity.”

“It’s not pity,” you say gently. “It’s a blanket and some time to breathe.”

He looks at you, expression unreadable. But he nods once.

You set up a sleeping bag on the floor that night. It’s the best you can offer in a room barely large enough to fit two people standing up. He lies stiffly on top of it, arms crossed, staring at the ceiling like sleep is a stranger.

You lie in bed, eyes open.bYou think about how he held the love of his life while he died. And now he’s here. Not holding anyone.

“Do you miss her?” you whisper.

He doesn’t answer right away. But when he does, his voice is soft.

“I think I miss the way she made me feel. Like I wasn’t just a weapon in a suit.”

You’re quiet.

He adds, a beat later, “But maybe that feeling wasn’t even mine. Maybe I only loved her because someone wrote me that way.”

You turn to look at him. But he’s already looking at you. Neither of you says anything after that.

You wake up to the smell of something burning. Your eyes shoot open, heart already sprinting.

You stumble out of bed, nearly tripping on the sleeping bag where Satoru isn’t anymore. You hear the clatter of pans, the groan of the microwave, and a very muffled, very confused “Why is this machine yelling at me?”

You rush into the kitchenette area down the hall, still barefoot, to find Satoru standing in front of the microwave, poking at the buttons like they insulted his mother.

“What are you doing?” you hiss, half-laughing, half-panicked.

He points at the microwave indignantly. “It said ‘popcorn’ but there were sparks! Sparks, Y/N!”

You grab the bag—oh god, the foil kind—and toss it in the trash before it sets off the building alarm.

He stares at you, wide-eyed, hair slightly messy, wearing your oversized hoodie and sweatpants like he’s a very lost, very pretty houseguest.

“Have you never used a microwave?”

“Why would I?” he asks, completely serious. “I had a private chef in Tokyo.”

You stare at him. He stares back. And then, maybe for the first time since he showed up… you both laugh.

Real laughter. Yours high-pitched and breathless, his deeper, more surprised. It crackles in the small space between you. And for just a second, he doesn't look like a man unraveling.

He looks like a boy. New. Unwritten.

Later, you’re sitting on the floor together, eating cereal straight from the box. His hair keeps falling in his eyes. You reach out without thinking and brush it back.

He freezes. So do you. His eyes meet yours. And for a second—just a second—there’s something like electricity in the air. Not sparks from microwaves. Not glitchy fiction magic.

Something real. You pull your hand back quickly. But he doesn’t stop looking at you.

“…I didn’t feel this way in the story,” he says quietly. “Not like this.”

You glance at him, heart thudding. “Feel what way?”

He doesn’t answer. But his knee brushes yours, and neither of you moves.

That night, he glitches. You're the first to notice. It’s small, at first. You're talking about breakfast cereal—how you mix Frosted Flakes and granola together like a heathen—and he tilts his head, eyes clouding slightly.

“I’ve never had cereal,” he says.

You blink.

“Yes, you did. This morning. You ate like half the box.”

He frowns. “No, I didn’t. We went to that place. With the… tiny pancakes.”

“…Satoru,” you say softly, “that was from Chapter 11. Of the fanfic. The Paris trip.”

His expression blanks. And then something in his face glitches. Like static behind his eyes. It only lasts a moment—but it’s long enough.

He exhales, hand pressed to his forehead. “It’s happening, isn’t it?”

You don’t know what to say.

He looks at you, voice quieter now. “I’m not built for this world. I’m already forgetting.”

You kneel in front of him, gently placing your hand on his. “Then we don’t waste time.”

His breath catches. You hold his hand like it’s the only thing anchoring him here. And maybe it is.

You don’t go to class the next day. You don’t even pretend to.

You tell yourself it’s because you’re “monitoring the anomaly” or “preserving the fabric of reality.” But really, it’s because Satoru wakes up on the floor with the most lost look on his face and whispers, “Where am I again?” and it breaks your heart clean in half.

You sit with him until he remembers. Your name. The coffee spill. The dorm microwave. He laughs about the popcorn again, a little shakier this time. But it still counts. After that, you don’t leave his side.

The two of you walk the campus late at night when no one’s around. He keeps staring at trees like they’re the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen.

“I didn’t have these,” he murmurs. “Not like this. The ones in the fic were always perfectly sculpted. Background props.”

You smile softly. “These ones grow crooked. They drop leaves. Sometimes birds poop on you.”

He tilts his head. “I like them better.”

You take him to the library next. He walks the rows of books with reverent hands, trailing fingers across every spine like he’s scared they’ll vanish.

“I thought I knew words,” he says, voice low. “But this is different. These were made by people. Not an author playing God. Just… people.”

You nod. “People with lives. Mistakes. Ugly handwriting and messy endings.”

Satoru turns to you.

You don’t know what he sees in your face, but it’s enough to make him pause.

“You’re not what I expected,” he says.

You raise an eyebrow. “Expected from what? Fanfiction?”

He shakes his head. “No. From reality.”

You teach him how to use your phone. He FaceTimes the pizza place by accident and panics when someone picks up.

You try to explain memes, which leads to you both scrolling through TikToks on your bed for an hour straight. He becomes obsessed with cooking videos.

At one point, your head drops onto his shoulder. He doesn’t move. His breathing slows, steadies, like he’s memorizing the shape of you. Neither of you says anything about it.

You stay up one night talking. Really talking. You're lying side by side on your bed, not touching, but so close your arms are brushing.

“I used to think I was in love with her,” he says.

You stare at the ceiling. “The version of me from the story.”

He nods. “But she didn’t challenge me. She didn’t argue. She was soft in all the ways the author needed her to be.”

You don’t say anything. You’re not sure how to feel.

He turns his head to look at you. “You’re not soft.”

You blink. “Gee, thanks.”

“I don’t mean it like that,” he murmurs. “You’re… messy. Complicated. Real. You snore.”

You shove his arm lightly, and he grins.

But then his smile fades.

“I’m scared I won’t remember this,” he whispers.

You turn your head slowly. He’s staring at you like he’s memorizing you.

“I’m scared I’ll forget you.”

Your chest tightens.

You whisper, “Then I’ll remember for both of us.”

Something shifts in the space between you. Like gravity pulling tighter.

You don’t kiss. Not yet. But his hand inches closer to yours. And this time, when your fingers touch— You hold it tighter.

It starts small again. A pause mid-conversation.

A moment where Satoru tilts his head and says, “Remind me what this is again?” while pointing at something he’s already asked about twice.

You want to pretend it’s nothing. That he’s just distracted. But then you catch him standing by the window later that evening, staring out at the streetlight like it’s the only thing anchoring him.

“Do you remember this morning?” you ask quietly, stepping beside him.

He turns slowly. “…Was there cereal?”

You nod.

He gives you a sad smile. “I forgot the flavor.”

You don’t know what to say. So you walk over, wrap your arms around his torso, and press your cheek to his chest.

His breath catches. You feel his arms come up, slowly, hesitantly. Like he’s afraid he’ll crush you. Like if he holds you too tightly, he might disappear completely.

His chin rests on top of your head. His heartbeat is loud beneath your ear. Neither of you moves for a long time.

That night, he doesn’t want to sleep on the floor.

“I know I said I would,” he mutters, eyes flicking toward the sleeping bag. “But I just… I don’t want to feel far from you right now.”

You nod. You move over. He climbs in beside you. He stays on his side at first. Doesn’t touch you. But eventually, in the dark, his fingers find yours beneath the covers.

He holds your hand like it’s the last thread connecting him to the world. And maybe it is.

You dream of water. A soft tide pulling you away. Something fading. When you wake, he’s already looking at you. His hand is on your cheek. His thumb brushes just under your eye.

“I had a dream,” he whispers.

You hum sleepily, not opening your eyes. “What about?”

“I was back,” he says. “In the story. She was there. The office. The desk. The skyline.”

You open your eyes. He’s quiet for a long time.

Then: “But I didn’t feel anything.”

You turn to face him. “What do you mean?”

“I saw her. But she didn’t look like you. She looked like a blank space. Like a fill-in. She smiled at me, but it wasn’t you.”

He reaches for your face again.

“This world is loud. Messy. Exhausting. And I still want to stay in it.”

Your throat burns. “You might not get that choice.”

He leans in, forehead resting against yours.

“I know.”

Silence. Just your breath and his. Then he whispers:

“But if I’m going to vanish, I want to remember you.”

It’s quiet in the room. The kind of quiet that hangs between words never spoken. Between goodbyes that haven’t happened yet.

You lie beside him, breath soft, chest rising and falling in rhythm with his. His hand is still resting over yours beneath the blanket, fingers loosely entwined like a tether to reality. His thumb brushes gently along your knuckles.

“Satoru,” you whisper, your voice nearly lost in the hush of the room. “Are you okay?”

His eyes are already on you. He doesn’t answer for a long time. Then: “No.”

Your heart twists.

“I feel like I’m slipping,” he says, voice low, a little raw. “Like parts of me are coming undone. I try to remember the story, the office, the people... it’s all fog. But you—” His hand tightens around yours. “You’re the only thing I still feel.”

You swallow, throat thick. “Then hold on to me.”

His gaze drops to your lips.

“Can I?” he whispers. “Really hold you? Just once. Before I forget?”

You nod. The moment stretches. And then he leans in.

The kiss is slow. Uncertain at first, like he’s afraid you’ll vanish too. But when you sigh against his mouth, it deepens—his hand sliding to the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair, tilting your head so he can kiss you fully. Thoroughly.

He kisses you like he wants to taste your memory. Like he’s carving the shape of you into whatever part of him still exists beyond the glitch.

You shift closer, and his hand slips beneath your shirt, splaying across your waist. His palm is warm. Steady. You shiver at the contact.

“Tell me what you want,” you whisper.

He pulls back just enough to look at you.

“You,” he says. “Slow. Real. I want to make it count.”

You sit up slightly, letting him pull your shirt over your head. His eyes trail over you, and something in them breaks. Reverence. Hunger. Grief.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes. “I can’t believe I almost didn’t get to see you like this.”

You press your hands to his chest, feeling his heartbeat thudding beneath your palm. His hoodie comes off next, followed by his shirt, and you press your lips to his skin—his collarbone, his sternum, the small scar just under his ribs like the one described in the story. But it’s different seeing it here. Seeing him here. Alive. Real. Yours, even if only for tonight.

He lies back and pulls you with him, hands exploring your body like you’re something precious—trailing down your sides, across your back, fingers gripping your thighs with quiet desperation.

When you grind against him slowly, feeling the thick press of him through his boxers, his breath catches hard in your ear.

“You’re killing me,” he murmurs, lips brushing your jaw. “You’re so soft—so warm—I didn’t know this part of the world could feel so… good.”

You roll your hips again, and he groans deep in his throat, hands locking tight on your waist.

“Need to feel you,” he whispers. “All of you.”

You shift your weight and reach down, guiding him free from his boxers, his cock hard and hot in your palm. His breath hitches as your fingers wrap around him gently, stroking once—slow and curious.

His voice is ragged. “Please.”

You press a kiss to his lips, then rise just enough to line yourself up.

And when you sink down onto him, he gasps—eyes fluttering shut, head falling back against the pillow.

“Oh god—”

You’re both breathing heavy now.

You pause, adjusting to the stretch of him, the tightness between you. His hands slide up your thighs, then settle at your hips, holding you still as he tries not to lose control too soon.

“You feel… perfect,” he chokes. “Better than anything I’ve ever known.”

You begin to move, slow and careful, your bodies rocking together in a rhythm that feels older than either of you. His hands roam—palming your breasts, sliding up your spine, gripping your hips as you roll against him with aching tenderness.

“Satoru,” you whisper, leaning over him, your forehead pressed to his.

He opens his eyes. And in them—desperation. Need. Love.

“I don’t want to forget this,” he says again, voice breaking.

“Then remember me like this,” you whisper. “Remember the way I feel. The way I look at you. The way you make me feel so full, like I was meant to hold you.”

He groans at your words, thrusting up into you with more force. You gasp, clinging to his shoulders, meeting him with matching urgency.

It builds between you—need turning sharp, trembling, sacred.

You come first—tightening around him, breath catching as you moan his name through clenched teeth, nails digging into his back.

He follows you seconds later, holding you tight to him as he spills inside you, your names tangled in breathless gasps.

Afterward, you lie on his chest, both of you still shaking. His hand runs gently down your spine. You feel him press a kiss to your temple.

“You’re the best thing I never got written for,” he whispers.

You don’t answer. You just hold him. Because you know what’s coming next. And he’s slipping again.

you lie with him for a long time. His body is warm, tangled with yours beneath the blanket, his breath steady against your shoulder. One hand rests lazily over your stomach, like he’s anchoring himself to your skin.

You’re not sure how long you stay like that—wrapped in the kind of silence that only comes after something true.

But eventually, you feel his fingers twitch. Then still. Then again.

“Satoru?” you whisper.

He blinks slowly, then furrows his brows like something's wrong.

“…What was your name again?”

Your heart drops.

You sit up, brushing hair out of his face. “Don’t joke.”

“I’m not,” he says, voice quiet. Distant. “I know you. I feel like I know you. But it’s slipping. Like I’m trying to hold water in my hands.”

You press your palm to his cheek. “You’re still here. You’re still with me.”

He nods, but he doesn’t look convinced. That’s when you realize—This is it. He won’t last much longer. Whatever brought him here—whatever magic, glitch, miracle—it’s running out.

And if he goes like this, half-glitched, half-lost, it’ll break both of you. So you do the only thing you can.

You get out of bed. Pull on a hoodie. And sit at your desk. The words don’t come easy at first. But then your fingers move. Not on your phone. Not in a fanfic comment thread. On paper.

With a real pen, real ink, real hands. You write him an ending. A soft one.

Where he’s not a CEO haunted by guilt. Not a tragic man doomed to die before he can fall in love. You write him waking up in a quiet home, sunlight through curtains, coffee in a chipped mug, a cat that curls on his lap. You write him laughing. You write him safe. You write him at peace.

And you write that he gets to say goodbye. When it’s done, you read it aloud to him. Your voice shakes.

He listens, seated on the edge of your bed, blanket wrapped around his hips, eyes full of something that doesn’t feel like a glitch anymore. It feels like gratitude.

When you finish, you look up. He’s smiling softly.

“You did it,” he whispers.

“I gave you an ending,” you say. “You deserved one.”

He stands. Walks to you. And kisses you again. This one is slower. Full of something final.

“Thank you for writing me something better,” he says against your lips.

Tears well in your eyes. “Thank you for being real. Even just for a little while.” His fingers linger on your cheek.

He vanishes in the morning. Not with fanfare. Not with light or thunder or spark.

Just… A flicker.

You’d gone to brush your teeth. You’d left him tangled in your sheets, watching you from the bed with sleep-soft eyes and a crooked smile.

You came back— And the sheets were cold. You say his name once. Then again, louder. But there’s no answer. No trace. No indent in the pillow. No warmth in the blankets.

Just a silence so sharp it cuts. You don’t cry at first.

You sit on the edge of the bed, fingers curled around the hem of your shirt, blinking at the place he had been just hours ago. You try to replay his voice in your head, his laugh, the things he whispered against your skin. You press your face into your pillow and breathe deep, desperate to find even a trace of him.

But all you smell is fabric softener and loss. He’s gone. Like he never belonged here at all.

You grieve quietly. You carry his memory in the scribbled pages of your notebook, worn at the edges from being opened again and again. But you don’t write for him anymore. You write for yourself.

You don’t talk about it. How could you? You go back to class. You go back to microwaving leftovers. You scroll past fanfiction tags and never click again.

Some nights you still whisper his name in the dark, just in case he hears it. But he never answers. You begin to believe maybe he was just a dream after all. A beautiful, impossible dream.

Three months later, on the first warm day of spring, you’re sitting outside the library, notebook open, headphones in, sunlight catching in your lashes.

You almost don’t hear it.

“Excuse me—,” someone says.

You look up. And your heart stops.

A young man stands hesitantly before you, holding a crumpled campus map. His glasses slip slightly down his nose, his hair tousled from the breeze.

He looks unfamiliar yet somehow familiar.

“Could you help me? I’m completely lost,” he says, voice gentle but uncertain.

“Do you know where the science building is?” he asks, sheepish. “I’ve been walking in a circle for like twenty minutes.”

You stare. He’s different. No polished arrogance. No CEO swagger. No tailored suit. But it’s still him. That face. Those eyes. That voice.

You slowly take out your earbuds.

“…What’s your name?” you manage, breath shallow.

He smiles at you—confused, but kind.

“Satoru,” he says. “Satoru Gojo.”

Your lips part. His gaze lingers on your face for a moment too long. Then—

“Have we met before?” he asks, tilting his head.

“No, we haven’t met,” you whisper.

He chuckles, eyes bright.

“Maybe it’s a good thing. A new story.”

And as the sunlight pools around you both, you realize some endings are just beginnings in disguise.

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totalswag · 5 months ago

Text

unexpected surprise ⎯⎯ chapter one!

authors note first chapter of my series omg!

summary in which you're cautious when Drew Starkey sneaks into your DMs following a casual encounter at a party. he is well-known for his role in a popular tv show and movies—has millions of fans. the two of you start communicating quietly, slipping minutes between his hectic schedule and your social media responsibilities. the secrecy adds to the excitement, but as the media learns about your link, it becomes increasingly difficult to hide.

series taglist

You are well-known in the social media world. You've been given the opportunity to build close relationships with your supporters—to develop a family and be yourself. Features everything from trip vlogs to fashion hauls, insightful conversations, and humorous content. Your work has built up a big following, with which businesses compete to cooperate. However, you value privacy and provide just the most basic information to your supporters.

Eight o'clock rolls around. Stella gets to your apartment dressed and ready for the night. Before heading out, you both walked to the kitchen to get your pre-game drinks made. Music playing from your speaker sitting on the table in the living room⎯keeping the energy high.

Tonight you are wearing a jeans with a black tank top with a red heart in the middle along with a cute jacket. Hair and makeup was a little different for the night. Of course, you needed your earrings and twi necklaces. You felt good about yourself.

"No joke, I've been rummaging through my closet for a good outfit," you say as you place the cups down. "I'm not sure why I'm having this strange feeling, but," pause, "who knows what it is about," shaking your head.

"Maybe you'll find your future lover?" she exclaimed dramatically, twisting the cap of the tequila bottle. She put the shots into two tiny glasses. "Are you sure you're ready for this?" she mocked, offering you a shot.

"How can I refuse" you say, smirking and clinking your glasses together.

Stella has been your best friend for seven years, and you are forever grateful to her. She's the type of friend that would drop everything in a moment to be with you and ensure you have a nice time. Her quirky characteristics will make you giggle until your abs hurt.

The drive to the party took twenty minutes. By the time Stella and you get to the neighborhood gate and are let inside, she has taken a few turns and there are several cars parked on the side. Fortunately, Stella found the right spot near the house.

The house was already alive with energy⎯music blared through the air, and groups of people huddled around in conversation, drinks in hand. Stella and you strolled through the crowd of people, her enthusiasm clear. "There they are!" She waved to a small gathering near the kitchen.

One of the girls in the group, carrying a drink, looked over her shoulder, her face lighting up with a smile as she noticed you both going over. "Oh my gosh, so glad you could make it!" Her voice was full of enthusiasm, “I’m Leah and this is Jake.”

"Nice to meet you both, I'm Y/N, and thank you for inviting us," you say politely, shaking each of their hands in a soft gesture.

As the night continued on, you and Stella stayed by each other. Got the chance to introduce yourselves to new faces around the party and strike conversations. Saw a few familiar faces you’ve worked with before too. Leah and Jake were extremely amazing, keeping you laughing non-stop with their jokes.

And then he walked in.

Drew Starkey.

You spotted him right away⎯tall, effortlessly calm, and commanding without trying. He was deep in conversation with a few people before making his way to where you stood, drink in hand. You weren’t expecting him to actually walk up to you either.

Before you could blink, he’s standing in front of you, “hey, I don’t think we’ve ever met before, I’m Drew” putting his hand out, smiling softly.

Drew Starkey is talking to me? You think to yourself.

“Y/N,” you carefully say, maintaining eye contact.

Conversation begins between you two. It felt so usual for you, and you didn't feel nervous at all⎯you felt serene, as you put it. The way he focused his attention on you and not anybody else made your tummy flutter⎯as if you two were the only ones in the room. Drew was easy to talk to.

Something about the way his eyes lingered suggested he was intrigued. The conversation between you two was comfortable and natural—even when people walked around the party, he remained, inquiring about what you did and why you came here.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what do you do?” he carefully asks⎯it was obvious he didn’t want to go overboard.

Chuckling softly, running your hands through your hair, “I guess you could say I’m in the entertainment industry” you playfully hint, grinning.

Raising his eyebrows in amusement, tilting his head back, “looks like I’m gonna have to find out another time then?” he asks with confidence⎯you like it.

Before he left your side, he pulled out his phone. “What’s your Instagram?”

You told him, watching as he followed you without hesitation. “Guess I have some catching up to do.”

Later that night, when you got back to your apartment, your phone buzzed with a notification. Stella's eyes nearly fell out their sockets when she glanced at your screen.

drewstarkey followed you.

drewstarkey sent you a message.

This was going to be interesting.

"Shut the fuck up" you both gasped.

series taglist

@akobx @ethanthequeefqueen

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ethelshound · 2 months ago

Text

MILK, HONEY AND METAPHORS. • S.REID

─── IN WHICH Spencer has always believed that some things are best left unwritten, but with you, every glance, every touch feels like poetry, and for once, he doesn’t mind reading between the lines.

Spencer Reid 𝓍 𝑔𝓃!reader 1.6K ⋆ fluff ⋆ comfort ⋆ established relationship ⋆ awkward Spencer ⋆ soft moments ⋆ book nerds/breakfast

The kitchen is quiet, save for the steady drip of coffee into the pot and the faint rustle of pages as Spencer flips absently through a book.

He’s perched at your counter, long fingers resting in the middle of chapter six but his eyes skimming past the words, unseeing. The coffee he poured for himself sits lukewarm beside him, untouched. The toast he began five minutes ago remains unfinished on the counter, the butter knife laid precisely parallel to the plate, as if the geometry might settle his nerves.

Statistically speaking, breakfast should only take a few minutes to prepare—two to four minutes to toast bread, twenty seconds to spread butter evenly, an additional five for honey, depending on its viscosity and ambient temperature.

And yet, he hesitates.

There’s something sacred in the stillness of your apartment. The curtains are half-drawn, letting in the pale glow of early morning. Dust dances lazily in the light, swirling in golds and creams. Your cat sleeps curled in a sunbeam on the windowsill, tail twitching in the cadence of dreams. Somewhere in the next room, you sleep with the door cracked open and one arm slung over the side of the bed, as if even in sleep you’re reaching for him.

He’s not used to mornings like this.

Spencer glances toward the hallway like a teenager caught in someone else’s kitchen. His curls are still messy from sleep, and the sleeves of his sweater bunch awkwardly at his elbows. He pushes one up again, only for it to slip down as soon as his hand moves.

The quiet feels too loud all of a sudden.

He clears his throat and turns back to the task at hand, trying to focus on the toast. Butter first, then honey. He spreads it carefully—precise, even strokes, like he’s painting something delicate—and adds just enough honey to form a thin amber sheen. He presses the halves together with the gentlest pressure, as if anything more might ruin it.

Your kitchen smells like sleep and sugar and coffee.

He takes a breath.

Spencer isn’t quite sure how to move in spaces like this—spaces not meant for profiling or statistics or the sterile click of FBI pens on laminate desks. Here, the math doesn’t help. There’s no algorithm for how to make someone feel loved at eight in the morning while wearing their hoodie and standing barefoot on their tile floor.

He wants to do it right.

Wants you to wake to something good. Something soft. Something simple.

But he's never been good at simple.

He startles when he hears the soft shuffle of your feet behind him. Turning slightly, he catches you leaning against the doorframe, sleep-warm and blinking slowly at the morning light. Your hair’s a little tousled, cheek marked faintly by the pillow, and Spencer thinks—statistically speaking—this might be the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“Morning,” you say, voice still hoarse with sleep.

Spencer smiles, quick and awkward. “Morning. I—uh—made toast. Well, I’m in the process of making toast. I got distracted.”

You pad toward him, barefoot and comfortable in the quiet, and he watches the way you move—soft, easy, like you belong here. Like he belongs here.

You peer at the plate, then glance at the untouched coffee.

“You got distracted reading a book and forgot your coffee?” you tease lightly. “Are you okay? Who are you and what have you done with Spencer Reid?”

“I was thinking,” he says defensively, but there’s a blush creeping up his neck. “And I didn’t forget. I just... didn’t want to disturb anything.”

You blink, confused. “Disturb what?”

He gestures vaguely around the kitchen. “This. You. The morning.”

You soften instantly. Moving toward him, you slip your arms around his waist and rest your cheek against his shoulder. He stills like he always does—tense, almost startled—and then melts, carefully, into the contact.

“You could never disturb this,” you murmur.

He wraps one arm around your back, the other coming up to rest tentatively at your waist.

“I don’t really know what I’m doing,” he admits quietly, lips brushing the top of your hair. “I know how to recite The Waste Land from memory, but I don’t know how to... be here. With someone. Without messing it up.”

You tilt your head up to meet his gaze. “You’re here. You made toast. You’re wearing my hoodie.” A soft smile plays on your lips. “That sounds pretty perfect to me.”

He huffs a laugh. “I analyzed the honey-to-butter ratio for eight minutes.”

“And that’s why I love you.”

Spencer’s breath catches in his chest. You’ve said it before—many times, in fact—but it always feels like it’s the first time. Like his brain still doesn’t know how to compute being loved so openly, so without condition.

“I used to think some things were better left unsaid,” he says, voice quieter now. “That putting them into words made them... real. Vulnerable. That if I didn’t say how much I wanted this, it wouldn’t hurt if it went away.”

You reach up and touch his cheek, gentle.

“And now?”

He leans into your hand.

“Now I think you’re the exception to every theory I’ve ever had.”

You grin. “That might be the nerdiest way anyone’s ever told me they’re in love with me.”

“I am, though,” he says, earnest and breathless. “In love with you. Completely. Quietly. Constantly.”

You press your lips to his, soft and slow, like you’re underlining something important. And when you pull away, you rest your forehead against his and whisper, “Then say it out loud. Write it on toast. Read it in the morning light. I’ll keep reading, Spencer. As long as you’ll let me.”

He smiles—truly, fully smiles—and you watch as the tension in his shoulders unwinds just a little.

“Okay,” he whispers. “Okay.”

And somewhere between the soft light, the forgotten coffee, and the still-warm toast, Spencer Reid learns that not everything has to be calculated.

Some things can just be.

And with you, he doesn’t mind reading between the lines.

#spencer reid #spencer x reader #spencer ―୨୧⋆ ˚#writerblr #book nerd #breakfast #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid oneshot #criminal minds fluff

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ilium-ilia · 5 months ago

Text

Everything You Touch

simon "ghost" riley x fem!reader | previously known as "soft spot" | masterlist

Chapter Six: smoldering butterflies

tw: none

“So, what rank are you?”

“Lieutenant.”

“Is that good?”

“Good enough.”

Sparse snowflakes flutter through the air like confused confetti as you and Simon meander throughout the tenebrous streets. It’s one of the rare nights that snow hits London, and though there’s not much of it, you know you appreciate this much more than the skin biting drops of rain that usually assaults the city. Glitter adorns the pavement as a thin layer of frost ices the path back to your apartment. Faded footprints already mar the surface. Smiling, you attempt to walk in time with them; stepping in the prints left by people who came before you.

A faint breeze weaves through the fabric of your clothes, prompting you to rub your hands over your arms in an attempt to fight off the sting. The warmth from the cinema—along with its popcorn and seemingly endless amount of Jelly Babies—offers some reprieve as it lingers on your skin, but it’s fleeting. It dissipates faster than smoke through the webbing of your fingers.

“Does that mean you get to lead other soldiers?” you continue just as your apartment building comes into view. Taking care to not slip on the slick rime, you rush up the steps, impatiently desiring the heat that lies just beyond the entryway door.

“Sometimes,” Simon answers simply. He follows behind you with long, slow steps as you lead him into the building and up the flights of steps leading to your flat. “There are others I have to answer to.”

You hum as you come across your door. Stiff fingers fumble with your keys as you shove it into the lock. One violent twist later and the door pops open, revealing the dull glow of your apartment beyond it.

“And then, what branch of the military are you in?” Stepping inside, the warmth of your home embraces you with thick arms, forcing your skin to defrost.

Simon pauses for a moment as he shuts and locks the door behind the two of you. “SAS.”

Brows pinching together, you work on kicking your shoes off in the entryway while Simon does the same with his boots. Though you’ve been playing twenty questions about his career, you hate to be faced with the fact that you know remarkably little about any of it at all. “I’m assuming that stands for something?”

“Special Air Service,” he explains simply.

You’re halfway into the living room when Simon explains this. His words stop you in your tracks as you twist on your heels with a grin. Shrugging your coat off of your shoulders, you point a finger at him as if you’ve caught him in the midst of some sort of act.

“I knew it!” you exclaim with a giggle. Once you’ve tossed your coat onto the hook on the wall, your hands and fingers morph as if you’re holding a pretend weapon. “High priority missions! Secret agent shit!”

“You make it sound more interesting than it really is,” Simon says dully.

Playfully rolling your eyes at him, you plop yourself on your couch. It’s difficult to sink into the cushions when they’re too firm to be fully comfortable, but you make the most of it as you watch him wander around the room.

“It is interesting. You guys sound cool,” you insist.

“I never said we weren’t cool,” he says with dry humor.

Simon makes himself at home as he stands on the other side of the coffee table from you with his arms crossed. It’s one of his quirks, you’ve noticed—the distance he attempts to keep between the two of you. He keeps his space as if you’re a fire he doesn’t want to be burned by; or like he’s a chasm that he doesn’t want you to fall into. Each time you take a step closer, he steps back. For every brick that you remove in his wall, he adds two more.

But his eyes give him away—he can’t hide the benevolence that swims in the gloam of his gaze.

“Is that why you wear that mask all the time?” you ask softly. “Because of work?”

Simon tilts his head, and you very quickly find yourself regretting having asked that question. You think you might have removed one brick too many. “Somethin’ like that.”

Of course. Something like that. You’ve learned that’s the response he gives you when you’re too close to an answer he doesn’t want you to see. Hitting close to home, yet not quite making it there. He keeps you stuck outside of the house, trying to look through the windows with the curtains drawn. It’s easier for him to prevaricate than to burden you with the truth.

“Do you ever… take it off?” you then ask.

“Never,” he answers firmly.

You smirk, but it’s not enough to hide the way you’re squirming beneath his gaze. “Yeah? So you wear it while you sleep and bathe?”

“Naturally.”

Delusional—that’s what you are. You’re damn near delirious for expecting his answer would be anything more than a stoic deadpan. Really, you’re not sure what you’re thinking. Simon has never been anything less than a gentleman to you, yet he never shows his face, always keeps it shrouded behind a mask, and is in the special forces. The squelching sound of Eric’s jaw cracking still echoes in your mind even after all of these months.

Simon should terrify you.

Yet, the hands that sunk into the side of Eric’s face are the very same hands that you tenderly patched up. They’re the same ones who selflessly put your lamp together. They’re the same ones that now twitch as he studies you.

“But really,” you continue. Your voice adopts a tone of solemn curiosity as you trace the muffled line of his jaw with your eyes. “Why don’t you take it off?”

Simon's eyebrow quirks beneath his mask. “Do you want me to?”

Your reply catches in your throat where it festers and burns like poison.

Yes.

“I dunno,” you say instead.

Even without his thick work boots, Simon’s footsteps are sonorous against the hardwood floor as he carefully maneuvers around the coffee table. Neither of you look away from one another. His eyes bore into you as he sinks into the cushion on the couch next to you. Wide shoulders and thick thighs nearly take up his entire side as he settles in, hips rolling until he’s twisted to face you. You don’t know why you’ve never noticed it before, but he smells nice—clean like cedar, yet faintly like the cheap popcorn you indulged in at the cinema.

It’s nice; a far cry better from Eric’s stench of nicotine.

“Close your eyes,” he says.

“Why?”

“You always ask so many questions?” Simon isn’t irritated—rather, he’s amused. Ador bleeds into his eyes as he watches your lips quirk.

“Always.”

You stare at one another for a moment. He’s so close—enough for you to reach out and grab him; tangible like the immoveable side of a mountain—yet he’s so painfully far. Those butterflies that have been plaguing your stomach all week have decayed into nothing but ash, yet even in death they still smoulder.

Trusting him, you finally close your eyes. The unmistakable sound of rustling clothes fills your ears, and it doesn’t take you long to realize he’s removing his balaclava. Freezing, you keep still as if you’ll scare Simon off if you move so much as an inch. His movements echo through the cushions as he leans forward, fingers brushing against the back of your hands. Thick thumbs press into your palms as he raises your hands from your lap and brushes them against the side of his unmasked face.

“Have at it,” he murmurs.

Afraid of going too fast, you slowly let go of his hands so that you can cup his cheeks. He allows you to explore him with your eyes closed—to feel every inch of his face. Rough stubble pokes the pads of your fingers as you trace his jaw and chin, but it’s interrupted by a fair bit of raised skin. A scar—it’s short but deep. There’s more of them scattered throughout his face. There’s one that dissects his left eyebrow, and another that dances along his cheekbone.

Your efforts become more brave as you continue to explore him. His nose is strong and angled with a noticeable bump on the bridge, and as you trace all the way to the tip of his nose, you take note of how it veers slightly to the right. Nearly straight, but not quite. His breath is warm on your fingers as you dance along his lips, and you feel a huff hit your face as you attempt to wander below his jaw.

Large hands come up to ensnare yours the moment you brush against his throat, preventing you from trespassing where you shouldn’t. All moisture leaves your mouth. “Sorry.”

“Didn’t think you’d wander so far so quick,” he quips. You’d roll your eyes if they weren’t already closed.

“Your ID doesn’t show the scar on your cheek,” you say instead. Carefully, you slip your hand out of his to return it back to his face. The pads of your fingers gently run over the thick tissue of his scar; it’s deeper than any canyon but it feels like you’re tracing the road back home.

“I heard some women find scars attractive.” Once again, Simon’s dry humor is showing. A choked sort of laugh rumbles in your chest as you gently shake your head as you chew on the side of your mouth.

“Maybe if they’re on men.”

Within an instant, Simon’s fingers are cupping your chin. Your heart flutters in your chest as a sour memory resurfaces to bubble beneath your skin. Eric grabbed you like this once—all because of dirty dishes. Even now you still feel the way his nails dug into your flesh. But Simon’s touch doesn’t hurt. He doesn’t dig into your skin as if searching for something you owe. His grip is delicate as his thumb swipes over your bottom lip, lingering on the scar that still taints your skin. Your heart pounds so violently you fear it might break free from your ribs.

“A few more and you’ll look as dashing as I do,” he says, fingers still lingering on your skin.

“Are you always this much of a sweet-talker?” you ask. Your attempt to goad falls flat when you realize just how breathless you are within his grasp.

“No,” Simon answers bluntly. “Just for you.”

You’re not sure how it happens, or who closes the distance, but you find your lips colliding with Simon’s in some unexpectedly gentle way. Those smoldering butterflies in your stomach resurrect with a vengeful fury as his warmth bleeds into you. They thrash around in your stomach with wings of fire as Simon’s hand falls away from your chin, opting to instead press his hand against yours as if reveling in your touch on his cheek. Despite his rough edges, he’s delicate. He does not nip and bite—he does not rip you to shreds. He simply embraces you with a devotion you never thought anyone would ever be able to muster for you.

It takes everything in you to hold back your protest as he pulls away from the kiss. The absence of him leaves your stomach churning with those incessant insects who demand more under the threat of immolating you. Simon pulls you away from his face but still holds you as he lowers your joined hands towards your laps.

“Still keeping your eyes closed after all that?” he asks, the baritone of his voice rumbling you to your core.

Taking his invitation, you finally open your eyes. In an odd way, he looks exactly how he felt. You recognize his strong, slightly crooked nose, the deep scars on his cheek and eyebrow, and strong jawline. A smile breaks out on your lips as you realize that you know Simon Riley by touch alone, and yet he still allows you to peel back his layers to witness all the softer parts of him he’d rather obscure.

“There he is,” you say softly.

“Been here the whole time, sweetheart.”

It nearly kills Simon to leave you when spring begins to roll around the corner. When he’s not in London, he finds himself mentally tracing the curves of your lips and recalling the weight of your jaw in the palm of his hand—it nearly drives him mad. Ghost lurks in the dark corners of his mind, urging him to forget about you, but you follow him everywhere. Even here in the midst of this blistering hot desert, you accompany him in the form of a handkerchief and the tingling in his lips.

The rising sun casts a warm glow across the otherwise bleak cloth as he rubs a gloved thumb over the threads. There are some days when he looks at his gift and recalls the ichor that stained your skin that day at the bank. Sometimes it’s so vivid in his mind that he half expects to see your freshly marred skin when he looks at you, but these days he finds himself thinking about how—despite the scar—soft you are against his mouth.

This goddamn handkerchief. He ought to leave it behind, but he can’t—not when it’s the only thing he has halfway across the world that reminds him of you.

“How’s Wisp?”

Well versed fingers expertly fold the handkerchief up as Simon turns around. Annoyance evident on his face even from behind his mask, he shoves the cloth into his pocket as he faces Johnny. The man stares at him with vibrant eyes as the sun illuminates his tanned skin.

“What’re you on about?” he questions bluntly.

“Wisp,” Johnny repeats. His hands reach up to rest on the straps of his vest as he leans forward with a grin. “Your bird.”

Shaking his head, Simon carefully shoves his fingers into his back pocket, ensuring that the handkerchief isn’t sticking out before he walks past Johnny and mutters:

“Comedian, you are.”

follow @mother-ilia to be notified of updates | get early access to chapters here

#ilium writing #sr ilia #everything you touch #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #female reader

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goonforgeto · 29 days ago

Text

・☄︎ CRUSH

chapter 02

SYNOPSIS — The last thing ten-year-old you ever imagined was falling in love at fourteen, getting your heart broken at seventeen, and spending your early twenties hunting down Jujutsu Society’s most wanted — your (ex?) boyfriend. But the last thing your twenty-something-year-old self expected? Falling for his best friend… just before your ex comes crashing back into your life after over a decade of silence.

WC — (1.2k)

CONTENT — time jump, post suguru deflection, references to jjk spoilers, ooc kinda a little idk

a/n: boy wth boy this is so buns enjoy

series m.list | m. list | << prev | next >>

March, 2013

“I can sense it,” Satoru says, dropping down beside you on the couch in the common lounge. His presence is abrupt but familiar, the cushion dipping under his weight as he exhales sharply. His hands come up to his eyes, rubbing at them like he’s trying to wipe away more than just exhaustion.

“Sense what?” you ask, brows knitting together as you gently tug his wrists away. His fingers fall reluctantly into his lap, but he doesn’t resist.

“His cursed energy,” he says quietly. “Suguru’s. He was in Sendai.”

The words hang there between you, suspended in the quiet hum of the lounge lights and the distant shuffle of footsteps down the hall. You feel it instantly — that subtle shift in the air, like the room’s been tipped off balance.

You swallow. “Are you sure?”

Satoru nods once, slow and heavy. “I’d know it anywhere.”

He leans back, head resting against the couch cushion, the tension in his jaw refusing to let go. His blindfold sits pushed up on his forehead tonight, leaving his eyes exposed — raw, red around the edges, but sharp as ever.

“I didn’t try to follow it,” he adds after a moment. “Didn’t know if I should.”

You watch him, unsure if he’s asking for permission or forgiveness.

“It’s fine,” you say. “That’s my job anyway.”

“Yeah, well, it’s bullshit,” he snaps, more tired than angry. “We both know we won’t find him unless he wants to be found. Yaga’s just wasting your time.”

You don’t disagree.

Because he’s right.

The truth sits between you both — bitter, inevitable. Suguru’s always been ten steps ahead when he wants to be. And if he left something behind in Sendai, it wasn’t a mistake.

You lean forward, elbows on your knees. “I think Yaga knows that. I think he’s just trying to give us something to hold onto.”

Satoru scoffs, dragging a hand down his face. “Yeah, well. He can keep it.”

“I dream about him, you know?” he says suddenly, like it just slipped out. “Still. Sometimes it’s back when things were normal. Sometimes it’s…” He doesn’t finish the sentence.

You don’t push him.

“He was in Sendai?” you ask again, quieter this time.

Satoru nods. “Not for long, but long enough to leave a trace.”

The words sit like weight in your chest. You press your hands into your thighs to keep them from shaking.

“Maybe he wanted us to know.”

Satoru doesn’t answer.

He just stares ahead, jaw tight, eyes distant. You can see it—he’s already somewhere else. Back then. Back there. Wherever Suguru last was.

The silence stretches. Not cold, but heavy. Like grief that’s gotten too familiar to flinch at anymore.

You shift slightly, voice barely above a whisper. “You’d tell me if you saw him, right?”

He turns to look at you, slow, like the question pulled him back to the room.

“Of course I would,” he says.

But there’s something in the way he says it—gentle, almost careful—that makes you wonder if he’s telling you the truth, or just what he thinks you need to hear.

You nod anyway. Because you’re both tired. Because neither of you has the heart to argue about Suguru anymore.

Satoru gets up, stretching slightly before stepping in front of you. “Okay, time to get up,” he says, already reaching for your hands. He doesn’t wait for your answer — just laces his fingers through yours and tugs you to your feet with that signature mix of ease and insistence.

You groan a little at the movement, but you go willingly.

“I don’t have any more classes,” he announces, stretching his arms over his head. “So, you, my sweet best friend, will now be making me dinner.”

You blink at him. “Why am I making you dinner?”

“Because,” he says, tapping the bridge of your nose with one finger, “Because I’m emotionally fragile, and you’re the only one who doesn’t actively try to murder me.

You follow Satoru out of the lounge, his carefree stride leading the way like always.

He chatters on about udon or curry or something else you’re only half-listening to, his voice a comfortable blur against the quiet halls.

You wonder if he knows. If he hears it in your silence.

But you don’t say anything. You’d be in a position half as bad as Surguru if anyone knew what you had almost done.

You’re nearly back at your place three hours later, walking distance from Satoru’s fancy apartment. You spend most of your time there anyway, but tonight you needed your own space.

He’d insisted on walking you back, of course. Big dramatic sigh, hand to his heart, something about “chivalry” and “being a gentleman.” But you didn’t let him.

Even the strongest needs to rest.

He didn’t argue too much. Just looked at you with that tilted-head, squinty-eyed thing he does when he’s pretending he’s not worried.

You promised to text when you got home.

The street is quiet now. You can still taste the faint salt of the miso he made you stir, the warmth of his kitchen light clinging to your skin like smoke.

You step up to your door, hands already reaching for your keys, and for a moment you just… pause.

The entire walk back, your mind had been drifting — falling into that quiet place where memory lives too close to the surface.

You thought about when you were fourteen and kissed Suguru for the first time. How nervous he was. How his hands felt when they cupped your face.

You thought about the week before your fifteenth birthday, when Satoru and Shoko walked in on the two of you in an empty classroom, lips locked, hands tangled, the moment crashing like glass as Shoko muttered “Finally” and Satoru screamed so loud someone set off the fire alarm.

And then you thought about sixteen.

When he looked at you like the world wasn’t something he hated yet. When he said, “When we’re older, let’s just get married, yeah?” so casually.

Because part of you wanted to believe that future was real. And now, part of you wants to convince yourself this very moment isn’t and that maybe your imagination is running wild, stirring up ghosts because you haven’t properly let them go.

But you know Suguru far too well for that.

The shift in the air. The precise weight of his cursed energy. You know it like you know your own breath.

You scan the street again, eyes flicking to the corners, the rooftops, the cracks between shadow and light.

Nothing. But he was here.

You don’t reach for your keys. Instead, your hand dives back into your bag and pulls out your phone. You barely feel your fingers as you unlock the screen and tap Satoru’s name.

He picks up on the second ring. His voice is warm, teasing. “You miss me already, sweetheart?”

“Satoru.” Your voice shakes. “Satoru.”

He pauses. You hear it immediately — the shift in tone, the way he sits up straighter even through the line. “Yeah?”

“He was here,” you breathe. “He wants to be found.”

“Woah, slow down—what do you mean? Who—”

“I’m not confused, Satoru.” You’re pacing now, feet light, eyes still scanning every inch of the block. “I’d know his cursed energy anywhere. He was outside my house.”

Silence.

Then: “I’m on my way.”

You nod, even though he can’t see it. “Hurry.”

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theorphicangel · 1 month ago

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heaven can wait | satoru gojo x reader | chap. 2

pair: guardian angel! gojo x fem! reader

description: the last thing you had expected was to come face to face with your very own guardian angel to which you had no idea that they existed.

now you have to deal with an annoying six foot-something angel who leaves nothing but feathers and chaos behind him. but as time passes you begin to learn more about him and he finds himself bending the rules just to be around you a little longer.

however there is one rule that guardian angels like him must always abide by.

they mustn't fall in love. ever.

tags: strangers to lovers, no curses au, modern au, satoru is annoying but you learn to love him, forbidden love, semi-slowburn, i think, eventual smut, fem! reader, angel! satoru, more tags to be added

art cred: @aidonotknow, original work is here, please check out their art!!!

taglist: @therealisttheillest @ohmygeto @bunheadusa @czarixoxo @lalalandincraz @descargueestoporgojosatoru @emochosoluvr @celear @thoreeo @moxieisanalien @amberbalcom14 @13-09-01 @k-kkiana @tyyqqaaa @ehcilhc @entr4p3 @fushiguroooozzz @marajafarli @slutlight2ndver @twinkling-moonlillie @pickledsoda @satansthiccasscheeksreblogacc @worganmalker @rorel1a

let me know if you would like to be on the taglist!

chapter two: explanations

wc: 970-something

author's note: this is a little shorter and i was debating to add it to chapter one but whatever. enjoy.

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You’re still choked up.

Your palms are sweaty and clenched as you try to come to terms with the stranger sitting in your house. There’s a bag of takeout sitting on the coffee table in front of the couch that he’s sitting on. Or perhaps lazing should be the right word to describe this…person.

He’s spent the last twenty minutes explaining to you the entire brief history and concept of a guardian angel. It’s confusing but you're grateful for the theology and religion classes you picked for extra credit. He hasn’t explained the important things yet like who sent him to you or how long he’s here for but those are questions you’ll ask later if he ever stops talking.

“Therefore,” He drags on, “ I was the reason you didn’t lose your life out there.” He points behind him with his thumb and a cheeky smirk on his face. You don’t respond to him having decided to remain completely silent throughout his whole explanation.

So.

Guardian angels exist.

This…man with giant angel wings is real. You’ve studied his face for the last few minutes but your mind still thinks that you’ve gone completely crazy. Maybe you woke up in the wrong universe today. Maybe you hit your head last night and haven’t realised that you’re living in a delusion.

“It’s normal to be confused.” Satoru disrupts your thoughts, reading your expressions. “I know it may not make a whole lot of sense right now and you’re totally discombobulated but that’s completely okay, it takes some time to get used to it.”

He’s surprisingly gentle about it all. As if he’s explained this a million times before. And judging from the fact that angels are immortal he probably has. You wonder how many other people he’s looked after. How many people is he protecting right now? How long has he done this for? How does an angel become a guardian?

There’s so many questions running through your mind at total speed and you can’t pick which one to ask first.

You’re silent for a little while but your angel doesn’t mind this. He watches you try to comprehend your entire situation.

“Satoru.” You test out his name on your lips.

“That’s my name.” he grins.

Your mouth opens. And then closes. The words you want to say out loud linger on your tongue, almost spilling out from your lips.

“I’m not sure how to say this but…”

“Go ahead.” he reassures, smiling to reveal a perfect set of pearly white teeth. What else would you expect from an angel from above? “There’s no such thing as a stupid question.”

“How do I stop this?”

“Stop what?” He tilts his head in curiosity.

“Stop you from being assigned to me.”

Satoru’s smile drops. This is a question that he’s never been asked of before, never in his many years of being a guardian angel. There’s something in his heart that churns at your sentence and at the tone of which you asked it. Sure, you don’t have to have anything to do with him but asking to end the contract with him was something he hadn’t expected to hear.

“I didn’t ask for this, I didn’t ask for any of this.” You explain in a rushed tone, “I don’t want someone watching me all the time and creeping me out and leaving fucking feathers everywhere in my home.” You rise from your seat. “I’m grateful to you for saving my life but I've survived perfectly well without a guardian before you arrived and I’m pretty sure that I’ll be just fine afterwards.”

At this point Satoru is confused. He’s never been in a situation like this, where you can’t even stand to look at him. Your tone isn’t asking but rather telling him to leave you alone.

He looks down at his hands as he thinks, his wings swaying a little. “I can leave but I can’t stop the contract put into place between us.”

“Well how does it stop?” you say impatiently. Your frustration is getting the best of you but you can’t help it, having a random creature in your house is enough to cause you to spiral after all you’ve gone through today.

There’s a pause and within that pause Satoru’s face turns completely serious. This time he’s not afraid to meet your gaze and there’s something in his tone that bites. “How’d you think?”

Oh.

The realisation hits you like a ton of bricks and you flop back down into your seat.

For him to end the contract you’d have to…die.

“Look, this is my first day and I don’t want anything crazy to happen, else there’ll be a lot of paperwork to deal with upstairs if you know what I mean. And there’ll be questions and I’ll be downgraded and–

“Downgraded?”

Satoru hums. “There’s a whole system to it but it wouldn’t make sense to explain it to you right now.” He lets out a sigh. He’s not giving up on you but he hasn’t had a human put him through the ropes like this in – well – forever.

“Nothing makes sense to me right now.” You retort.

Satoru raises his hands, “Look, all I’m asking is for you to trust me.” His eyes meet yours and the shade like blue diamond engrosses you completely. If anything he seems genuine and wants to simply do his job which is to protect you. If you’ll allow him.

“Can you do that for me?”

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baocean · 3 months ago

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piss off your parents

chapter twenty three - somethin’ stupid

at first, when you thought he wanted to drive you somewhere. you hesitated. but once you looked, actually looked, you realized the twinkie was the date.

the side door creaked open, revealing the blankets and pillows scattered across the floor in that messy, endearing way only jj could manage. warm fairy lights looped lazily through the ceiling. a bowl of popcorn sat between a pile of candy bags, like he’d cleaned out an entire gas station just for you.

“what is this?” you asked, taking a few steps closer to get a better view.

you looked at him, and couldn’t help but let the butterflies and warmth rise to your face, breaking out in a smile.

“welcome to the twinkie cinema, where you can watch any movie you want as long as it isn’t the notebook.” jj grins, then waves his arm to usher you inside, throwing himself in and closing the door behind you.

you remembered that time he told you sarah made all their friends sit down and watch the notebook. jj said he’d been traumatized from it, couldn’t stop crying for an hour.

“do you like it?” he asked. he met your eyes for a second, before turning behind him and grabbing a bag of sour patch kids, tearing the bag open.

“love it.” you couldn’t even try to hide the swoon, you were pretty sure it was painted all over your face.

you'd only been watching to all the boys i've loved before for maybe, maybe twenty minutes when jj cut in.

"we should take tips from this, you know, to make our relationship more convincing."

you turned to him, shaking your head as you smiled. "you think so?"

"i mean, the back pocket thing is genius. and i can start writing you little notes. they might be really hard to read 'cause i got shit handwriting, but i'll do it."

"no, we need something that's just for us." you let out a breathy laugh, then shifted to get more comfortable. both of you picked up on the inch closer you were.

us. us. the word made jj's vision go blurry. he wanted to laugh at himself on how easily he got worked up when you did the simpliest things, of what had become of jj maybank, pogue, bad news, playboy.

your smile lingered, soft and easy. you glanced back at him, brows raised when you saw the look on his face. “you okay? you’re doing that thing again.”

jj blinked. “what thing?”

you shrugged, "that spaced out look, like you're not all here."

he let out a soft laugh. but it was shaky, strained "yea, something like that."

because what was he supposed to say? that the twinkle lights hitting your shoulders made him want to forget his name? that your laugh had lodged itself somewhere permanent in his chest? that every single thing you did, every look, every word, made him want things he had no business wanting?

fake. that’s what this was supposed to be. there was nothing fake about this. nothing fake about the way you were looking at him right now, letting all your thoughts cloud in your eyes.

“seriously,” you add, your hand coming to his bare arm and rub it reassuringly, “is something on your mind or—”

he couldnt do it anymore, couldn't hold back and tell himself not to do something stupid. partically, because he couldnt find a reason to not do what he was about to do, even if there were hundreds.

he leaned in, surrendering, letting it finally take over. no more thinking. no more hesitation. just you.

the first press to your lips was soft at first, testing.

you froze for a heartbeat, like the world had stilled. and then you kissed him back, one hand coming up to the side of his neck and braiding itself into his hair.

jj had kissed before, hell, jj had done much more than kiss before. but this one burned. it was warm and a little shaky, full of all the things you weren’t saying.

it was stupid. and risky. and he already knew it was going to wreck him, but he didn’t stop.

he kissed you like he’d been waiting all summer, all year, forever. he pulled you into him like it was life or death.

each moment was sweet and unhurried, filled with giggles that lingered between your lips. smiles that whispered against each other, thumbs brushing softly across cheeks and necks and collarbones.

when he finally pulled away from you, you sighed. "was that to make our story more convincing?"

he smiled, "nah, that was for me." then dipped back down to you.

liked by 500 people!

ynstjohn: date night!

sarahcam: sobbing

sarahcam: did u force him to watch the notebook? 😏

↳ jjmaybank: it’s banned in yn and i’s household

jjmaybank: i’m still not over u eating all the red sour patch kids 😐

↳ ynstjohn: but you like the blue ones!

↳ jjmaybank: i like u more

johnbroutledge: i’m stealing this idea

kelcee: 🥲🥲

cleoanderson: OMFG?

kiaracarrera: how did jj come up with this 💀

↳ jjmaybank: i’m a romantic now get used to it

her phone

his phone

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#obx fanfiction #jj maybank #obx imagine #outer banks #outer banks imagine #obx season 3 #jj mayback imagine #obx jj #john b routledge #jj mayback x reader #jj outer banks #jj x you #jj x reader #obx smau #obx x reader #outer banks smau #obx social media au #divider by v6que

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whisperingmidnights · 11 days ago

Text

Chasing Starlight: Chapter Twenty-Two

Pairing: Poly!Feysand x reader

Notes: There will be a separate, two-part sequel to this chapter (as well as a bonus scene) I will be posting in the future. For now, I hope you enjoy the chapter it took me entirely too long to end. If you were following along with the original draft, this would be chapter twenty-six. I probably won't add that note to future parts, but it's been a while since we've had an update, and I don't want anyone to get confused.

A bowl of fluffy white frosting sits on the corner of the kitchen counter with a spatula sticking out of it like a child’s shovel in a mound of sand. Nyx wriggles in my arms, reaching for his aunt as Elain carefully stacks the layers of vanilla cake. I coo at him despite the ache it causes, rocking a little to keep him occupied as the contents of my mug cool in front of me. He grows bigger with each passing month, I can hardly believe he’ll be walking soon. Late autumn rains have given way to snow this week, bringing the first kiss of winter to us a full month before the solstice.

Time slips through my fingers like so much sand.

I feel every grain.

My sweater is normally thick enough to ward away the frosty chill permeating the windows, but not today. Goosebumps wander over my skin at will as heat curls in my joints, a warning that I’ll need to drink the medicated tea in my cup soon to keep the worst of the pain at bay. Unfortunately, Nyx has been grabby enough lately that I don’t want to risk drinking it while I hold him. I don’t know if I have it in me to just put him down and let him scream long enough for me to drink it.

“I can take him,” Elain offers, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel once the final layer is cushioned atop a thick layer of frosting. Her brown eyes soften as she reaches for the babe in my arms and I ease him into her grasp, eager to not have him hanging onto me for a few minutes. Accepting the mating bond seems to have brought on a clingy stage for him I thought would have ended weeks ago, but all he wants is to be held. With Feyre finally comfortable going back to her studio and Rhys easing back into the duties he’s neglected in favor of taking care of me, I’m the one he seems to want to cling to during the day — likely because I smell so much like them. “You look tired, Dove. Do you want to go lie down?”

“No,” I murmur, raising my mug to my lips. I am tired, more so than I had been even a few weeks ago. We’ve had no news from the various healers working on trying to fight against my curse while Day’s High Lord looks for a way to break it. The Dawn Court healer sent along this tea, a blend of herbs native to their territory that certainly eases the frequent flares of pain and nausea. “No, I’ll be okay. Just give me a little time to drink this and I should be fine.” Fine enough, anyway.

“It is alright if you aren’t, you know.” Elain bounces her nephew in her arms, kissing his chubby cheeks before her eyes shift to me, trailing over my face like there’s something she’s searching for. “Fine, that is. You don’t have to be brave about it.”

“What’s the alternative? Weeping over all of the things I cannot change?” I sigh, sipping my slightly bitter, minty tea. The flavor isn’t my favorite, but I suppose I’m not drinking it for the taste. Elain shakes her head, pulling her hair out of Nyx’s chubby fist as I sink onto one of the stools on the other side of the counter. The babe pats her cheek, babbling up at her with wide eyes, and his aunt nods wisely at him before her brown eyes slide to me once more.

“You’re so like Nesta sometimes,” she says. I tilt my head, considering her words as she continues her conversation with her nephew and I drink my tea. From what I know of the eldest Archeron sister, she’s very isolated up in that sprawling mountain house, training as a warrior and reading the smutty books Feyre occasionally ferries home. For all they have in common, it’s a wonder Feyre and Nesta don’t get along better. All three sisters seem to be finding a way to a more comfortable, loving middle ground now that their unpleasant beginning is so far behind them.

“Did Feyre mention when they would be home today?”

“Sometime before dinner. Mrs. Greaves will likely be in to chase us out soon so she can begin preparations. Beef curry with rice and roasted asparagus, I think?”

“Delicious.” Everything the housekeeper prepares is delicious. “Elain?”

“Yes?”

“May I ask how…how you and Lucien are doing?” I don’t know why I’m nervous to ask. Lucien has only been cordial, if not kind, to me every time our paths have crossed. Maybe it’s my own unwillingness to say more than necessary to him that bleeds into the way we interact. But I do…I do want to know. He’s one of the few people I know whose feelings about our home court are likely as complex as my own. It might be nice to have someone who understands.

“Of course.” Her smile is welcoming as ever, and she sways with her nephew as his little head rests on her shoulder. Nyx gives me a sweet, gummy smile that morphs into a yawn, and I note the red around his twilight blue eyes. Maybe he won’t fight nap time today after all. “We’re doing well. His own duties keep him away, I do rather wish I could accompany him, but…but with Koschei gaining ground on the continent, I’m more useful here.”

“Is he truly such a threat? Legends say he’s cursed to remain in that crumbling lakeside castle-”

“His body may be. His magic, however, is free to roam. Those under his spell may leave to do his bidding. And it’s- well, it’s rumored he has Montesere’s princess now.” My eyebrows shoot up at that tidbit of information and the Seer shrugs, rubbing Nyx’s back as he drifts off to sleep with a sigh. Truly, since the night that strange magic spread through Velaris, I haven’t heard much on the machinations of the world beyond these walls. Not that I could possibly be of service in that particular struggle. “I’m going to put him down for a nap. Enjoy your tea.”

“Elain?”

“Yes?”

“How do you stand having your mate so far away?” Rhys and Feyre can be in the same town, and I still feel a little uncomfortable in my skin until they’re home with me.

“We haven’t fully accepted the bond. I want a ceremony, and I don’t want it to be something rushed out of fear of what may happen. I don’t feel that longing as intensely as- as other mates seem to. Maybe the Cauldron made me wrong.”

“Maybe not. Maybe you’re the most well-adjusted of us all.”

She laughs at that, wrinkling her upturned nose, pink rising in her cheeks. Elain shakes her head, gesturing towards my cup before she heads for the stairs, and I test the temperature before downing the rest of it in a few gulps. It burns a little, but the relief that had slowly begun to trickle through my veins floods them, cooling the painful burn. I pay the price for the rush, though. I’m immediately lightheaded, the world going a little fuzzy at the edges. I probably should have just sipped it.

Leaning forward, I rest my head on the countertop, grateful for the cold seeping into my skin from the stone. Yes, I definitely should have just sipped it. The soft sound of Elain’s footsteps on the wood floor fades. My eyes are so heavy. Maybe I should just close them.

- - -

I wake to tendrils of late afternoon sun spilling across the sofa I’m curled up on. My head feels as if it’s full of lead. When I finally manage to keep my eyes open, the world around me is fuzzy. A few warm, knit blankets are draped over me, a thicker fur on top of them to ward away any chill. I glance to my right at Rhys behind his desk with Nyx curled in a tight ball on his chest, his little wings lightly fluttering in unison. The hand that’s not cradling the babe holds a stack of papers, likely some report he’s staring blankly at.

I must have slept for far too long if we’re on to nap number two.

“Sorry,” I mumble, pushing myself into a seated position. Rhys blinks, seeming to come back to himself as he sets his paper down. The smile he gives me is tender, but I hate the concern lingering in his eyes. I hate that I’m the cause of so much unnecessary stress for both of my mates. They should be able to leave me at home with Nyx without worrying what they might come home to.

“You have nothing to apologize for, Dove. You needed the rest. I should be apologizing. I left you to-“

“Don’t, Rhys. Please. You should be able to leave me, I…” I should be more capable. But I don’t say that. Mother’s sake, it’s his birthday, the last thing I need to do is pick a fight. I don’t know if it’s the weakness of the shield around my mind or something leaking down the bond, but he pushes up from the desk and I shift the blankets around so he can settle on the sofa at my side. His arm around my shoulders is a warm, welcome weight, and I lean into his side to bask in it while I can. His head rests against mine, easing the ache in my heart a little as I whisper, “happy birthday.”

“Thank you, my dove.”

“Has it been a good one?”

“It has. When Feyre comes home, it will be perfect.”

“How long has he been out?” I trail my finger over Nyx’s arm; his hand tucked beneath his chin as he sleeps. He looks so much like his father. What had Rhysand’s father looked like? Does he favor him or his mother? Did his sister look like Nyx when she was born? Heartache anchors in my chest like the deep roots of a weed. They should be here. He should still have them.

“Not long,” Rhys sighs, holding me tighter. “What are you thinking about that makes you so sad, Dove?”

“I was wondering about your parents. And your sister. I was thinking it’s unfair that they’re not here. I wish you still had them.”

“Was there something specific you wanted to know?”

I shrug, toying with the edge of the cashmere blanket peeking out from beneath the fur. I’m not sure what to ask, or if I even should. Why dredge up such awful memories on his birthday? Instead, I ask, “What did you do today?”

“I had a few appointments with local vendors. I’ll visit some of the villages to the west tomorrow. The farmer’s guild likely has a list of wishes or demands before next spring they’ve submitted to their territory lords for me to review and approve.”

“How thrilling.”

“Oh, yes. Life as High Lord is terribly exciting. Miles and miles of paperwork and budget approvals and fielding grievances. Have you fallen asleep yet?”

“Go on for another five minutes and I might do just that.”

“Mother forbid I bore my mate so thoroughly.” I laugh, rearranging myself to rest my head on his chest with my knees towards the back of the sofa. Nyx’s wing occasionally brushes against my temple as he sleeps on, oblivious to the world and its troubles. My mental shield flutters, straining the little magic I have access to before it crumbles. My eyes are so terribly heavy. Rhys slips in, his presence cool and soothing as water on a hot day. He curls around me there, shaped like a beast I can barely comprehend, teeth and talons tucked away for the moment.

“You’re always trying to protect me,” I grumble through a yawn. I want to tell him I don’t need it, but we’d both know that to be a lie.

“I always will.” The finality of that statement settles into my bones. Always, always, always. It’s what I agreed to — what we agreed to — when we accepted the mating bond. Always. I don’t know when I’m going to be able to come to terms with the notion that there are two people in this world who made a binding decision to love me for the rest of my days. To protect me. To care for me. It doesn’t feel real, all these weeks later.

Rhys’s voice floats between my thoughts, waving them away like gnats as the beast curls tighter around my mind. ‘Rest, Dove. It’s not long until dinner.’

“You’ll wake me?” My words are slurred with exhaustion, a mumbled jumble of sounds that Rhys chuckles at as he smooths a hand over my hair.

‘I’ve never allowed you to go hungry before.’

I want to argue that it’s not the same as waking me for dinner. I want to sit at the table with my mates and their family. I want to watch Nyx stuff fistfuls of mashed carrot into his little mouth, smearing it on his cheeks and chin. I want to laugh with them and watch Rhys open his gifts — the few that he allows, anyway. I want to be well enough to thoroughly celebrate him after. I want so deeply to be part of making this a special day for him.

All I can do is sleep. It’s all my body allows.

- - -

The next time I wake, it’s much darker. Still curled on the sofa, but the body tucked beneath mine is soft and slim. The hands in my hair smell faintly of linseed oil and soft, powdery lotion. Feyre’s breathing is soft and deep, her heart a steady beat beneath my ear, and I glance up to find her sleeping soundly beneath me. She must have changed when she returned home. The thin, black silk dress bunching around her thighs certainly is not what she left in. The lace straps and embroidery that make up the bust leave so little to the imagination, but it’s a beautifully crafted piece.

One that begs to be removed later.

The dark lashes against her cheeks look as though they’ve been dusted and tipped in gold. When they flutter open, revealing those lovely blue eyes still clouded with sleep, I lean up to kiss her pale pink lips just to feel them curve into a smile against my own. She tastes of pear wine, heady and sweet, spiced to match the season. Her tongue sweeps languidly against the seam of my lips, and I part them for her as she rolls me onto my back, trapping herself against the back of the couch.

The tattooed hand sliding beneath my sweater to caress my bare skin is so warm. I want her to touch me everywhere. Her free hand curves around the back of my neck as Feyre takes her time coaxing my mouth to open, allowing her to explore me as though it’s not an adventure she’s made a thousand times before. She knows every move, every flick and touch to make me feel like I’m coming alive beneath her hand.

It stops too soon. Her cheeks are rosy when she pulls away, and her eyes are sparkling with so much more than joy.

“Are they eating without us?” I ask, stretching as the hand against my ribs wanders to my hip.

“They’ve just started dinner. I told Rhysand we’d be a minute; I wanted to greet you properly first.”

“Bit longer than a minute, Feyre.”

“Well, now I want to take all night just to prove a point.”

“What point are you proving?”

“That the time I spend with my mate is never time wasted.” My mate. Mine. Possession drips from the word and I drink it like sweet Summer wine. I am theirs and they are mine and one day, I will not need to be reminded of it. One day, I will feel comfortable in the knowledge that only death can take them from me, that we are bound until the end of our days because we chose it.

“It is not,” I agree before those hungry blue eyes burn holes in me. “But it is Rhys’s birthday dinner, so we should probably join them.”

Feyre nods, acquiescing to my silent request, and together we climb off of the sofa. A cloud of steam forms around her hands as she smooths them over the wrinkles in the dress, straightening the fabric once more. Her hand is still warm when it slides into mine, and together we make our way from the study to the dining room.

We hear a low, rumbling snarl before we reach the stairs. The very foundation of the house trembles and Feyre tugs me along at a slightly more urgent pace. Amren’s voice carries over the roaring in my ears, but I can’t force myself to focus on what she’s saying long enough to understand it. Everything sounds slightly muffled, like I’m hearing it through glass. Something about Illyrian males…missing…something?

Feyre drops my hand, slinking into the dining room with her head held high, sleek as any mountain cat. I spot Nyx in Nesta’s lap, a fistful of peas halfway to his mouth. His little head bobs as he looks at his parents with a gummy smile, his few teeth shining white. Feyre’s hands settle on Rhys’s shoulders as she leans in to kiss his temple, but I feel the way she’s assessing everyone in the room. There’s a spot beside Azriel, his shadows shuffle back the empty chair for me as Feyre sinks into the chair at Rhysand’s side.

“I thought we weren’t discussing court business tonight,” Feyre sighs, breaking the tension with a little smile, her blue eyes darting between Rhys and Amren. Likely weighing the pros and cons of getting in the middle of whatever inspired the argument. Something silent passes between my mate and his second-in-command, and they both return to their wine, appearing to agree to drop the argument for the night.

Azriel picks up my plate, quietly serving me as I wave to the babe who has just noticed my presence. His face is covered in so much mashed food, it’s hard to tell what’s what, but his eyes and smile are so bright.

“Apologies, Feyre,” Amren demures, raising her glass to her lips.

“You’re looking well.” Azriel’s voice is low and soft as he sets my plate before me. He’s somehow figured out the things that don’t upset my stomach these days and has served them in small enough portions that I won’t make myself sick trying to eat it all. I give him a grateful smile, raising a spoon of rice to my lips as I feel Rhys’s eyes settle on me. I grin at him as brightly as I can muster, but it does not chase the tinge of heartache from his eyes.

“Thank you,” I murmur, turning my attention back to Azriel as Feyre leans in to kiss Rhys more soundly, earning a playful groan from Cassian. “I feel…” Not better. Worse, probably. But the tonics and potions and elixirs and whatever else the healers provide are still helping for now. “Well, I’m here. How have you been? Is everything…going well?” I don’t know what to ask him that isn’t technically court business.

“Yes and no. I’m fine, but we are…having a few hiccups.”

“Azriel,” Feyre warns, exasperation thick in her voice as those eyes swing in our direction. The shadowsinger raises his glass, toasting his High Lady with a rare wink before he throws back the rest of whatever’s in his glass.

“We were just wondering when it will be time for presents,” I lie unhelpfully, earning a snort from the male at my side. Rhys shakes his head, affection curving his lips as he turns back to his meal. The tension disperses the moment Nyx decides to fling his peas across the table, his little cheeks red with delight at the way they scatter. I tuck into my own plate as the little green vegetables disappear from the lace tablecloth. Each bite of rice tastes like ash, the beef tender enough but lacking the flavor of the rich spices I can see coating the top of it. Even the little bit of bread I manage to get down is flavorless, the butter in it merely a greasy coating on my lips and tongue.

Is this what dying feels like? A slow-creeping misery that takes and takes. I glance around the room, forcing my smile to brighten a little, trying to drum up some modicum of joy within me. It’s Rhys’s birthday and we’re all here together. That’s what matters now. The rest is stardust.

I don’t eat much more, choosing to listen to the conversation buzzing around me. Mor drags Feyre into a discussion about the new dressmaker on Silk Street and her Monteseran-inspired designs for spring. I can’t imagine Feyre in the yards of frothy lace I’m certain such a place inspires, but it might suit Elain well enough. Gradually, I feel that dark, ancient beast creeping around my mind once more, quiet and comfortable as it curls in around me. Rhys’s hand slides from the table towards Feyre’s lap, and down the bond flows a desire for contact, thick and sweet as honey.

What an incredible gift, to want to be touched. The abandoned dinner plates clear, the mess along with it, and Nesta passes Nyx to Feyre to be rocked as a small pile of gifts appear before my mates. The rest of us receive steaming mugs, Azriel’s appearing to contain rich, dark chocolate and something that smells faintly of coffee, while mine contains more tea.

I’d prefer what he’s having.

Instead, I sip my medicated tea and watch Rhys open his gifts, thanking and chastising the rest of the family in equal measure. The first is a leather case from Feyre, fill with beautiful glass planets and glowing stars that take to the air moments after the lid is off, slowly revolving and shining over our heads. Nyx turns his sleepy, lilac blue eyes skyward, babbling at the glass balls with his chubby cheek presses against Feyre’s chest. A slender, tattooed hand covers his head, smoothing his hair affectionately as his father leans down to kiss his forehead. I try to capture the quiet moment in my mind, wishing to keep it forever, locked away in my heart with everything else I hold dear.

I already miss them, and they’re just across the table from me. I can’t imagine a lifetime separating us, I won’t. Not tonight, anyway. Tonight I am alive and there are stars and planets spinning overhead.

Rhys leaves them there as he moves on to his next gift. On and on, he unveils books and trinkets to disperse around the house and a beautiful selection of blades he vanishes before Nyx gets a good look at them. Between swigs of my tea, Azriel nudges his mug towards me, and we share the chocolate concoction until there is only one small box left. A gift I had commissioned with Mor’s help, kept secret even from Feyre — a feat, considering how close the sculptor’s studio is to hers.

The box itself is plain, wrapped in brown paper and twine that’s gone in a matter of moments. The lid lifts away and a tiny tendril of magic removes a marble statuette from the silk-lined interior. It’s a replica of an unfinished piece I’d seen the last time Feyre and I went to look around: the goddess Nyx clad in a gossamer gown, pouring out a jug of stars to fill the night sky. A maternal smile lights her lovely face as she gazes down at a small, winged babe reaching towards the stars. It’s better than I could have imagined it would be, intricately carved with thin veins of gold in the boy’s wings.

“How perfect,” Feyre coos, kissing the crown of Nyx’s head as he dozes against her. “Enzo’s attention to detail is remarkable. I didn’t think he was accepting commissioned work at the moment.”

“He made an exception,” Mor teases, her brown eyes meeting mine over her own mug of hot chocolate. “We can be very convincing.”

“Mor is convincing,” I object, shaking my head head. “I simply made the request.”

“It’s wonderful,” Rhys says, vanishing the delicate statue along with the rest of the gifts, tucking them safely away. “Thank you both.” There it is again, that tug at our bond, more urgent than the last. I give my mate my most patient smile, watching Feyre settle against his side as she lowers the strap of her dress to allow Nyx to nurse. She’ll have him fast asleep in ten minutes, no doubt. “How is training with the priestesses going, Nesta?”

“Fine,” the eldest Archeron states, giving my mate a carefully blank look. Though they’ve made progress towards a place of neutrality, there’s this wall between them Feyre has admitted to being unable to crack. It seems to me what Nesta truly needs is for him to trust her judgment, and Rhys needs to find a way to give her that little bit of control.

“We should have two more Valkyries before the end of the year,” Cassian supplies helpfully. “Right, Az?”

Azriel nods. “If they can manage to cut the ribbon, yes. They both need more precision in their swing to manage it, but I expect they’ll be ready by the end of next week. They’re ready.”

Pride shines in Nesta’s eyes at the report, and Azriel manages a fond smile in her direction. He so rarely shows any hint of emotion, it’s nice to see a glimpse of his gentle nature beneath that cold exterior. It’s a wonder, though, that he and Elain don’t speak beyond a few niceties. I settle back in my seat, listening as Cassian launches into a story about the three of them as boys in the training camp, sneaking out for a late-night swim only to be caught sneaking back in by Rhys’s mother, still damp from the lake.

At the end of the night, once our guests have left and Feyre has put Nyx to bed, I find myself before the bathroom vanity with Rhys at my back, his chin resting on my shoulder as I stand in the cage of his arms, rubbing lotion into my skin. His eyes are dark, a possessive sort of hunger brewing in their violet depths, and I raise my brows at him as he turns to nuzzle the side of my neck. He paws at the nightgown I’ve only just put on, gripping the deep purple chiffon like he might shred it as his lips wander along the curve of my shoulder.

“Don’t you dare,” I grumble, tugging at his dark hair to bring his ministrations higher. “Feyre has something planned and I’m not sure what it is, but I do know I’m not allowed to be naked yet.”

“She hasn’t told you?” Rhys grins slyly, turning me in his arms. I rest my hand on the back of his neck, urging him to kiss me as he presses me against the counter. He grips my hips, drawing them against his own until I feel every inch of his desire twitch against my belly.

“Considering how worked up you are, I assume she’s told you.” I mutter.

“We may have discussed it this morning.”

“When?”

“Oh, we had a little time set aside to have important conversations.”

“And sex is an important conversation?” I huff. What else were they discussing in their little scheduled moment? Something tells me it certainly wasn’t court business.

His lips claim mine on the edge of a chuckle. My hand finds his hair as I slip the other between us, stroking lightly over the hard length of him through his trousers. My heart skips as he moans into my mouth, nearly melting against me while I touch and tease. He’s not nearly as demanding as usual, that innate dominance drained away, leaving something more pliant in its absence.

More…submissive?

I grip his hair, pulling my mouth from his, and he doesn’t chase my lips as he normally would. Hooded eyes flick from my lips to my eyes, and I give him a squeeze that has his lashes fluttering. And still, he doesn’t stop me. Is this their game tonight, then? Are we to be in charge?

The bedroom door clicks shut, and I look over to see Feyre heading towards us, a sly smile on her pink lips as she takes in the sight of us. Those starlight blue eyes linger on the hand lazily stroking his cock. She gives me a generous smile, leaning against the door frame as she turns her attention to our mate.

“You couldn’t keep your hands to yourself, could you, Rhysand?” Even I shiver at the authoritative lilt to her tone. “Of course, I can’t blame you for being so eager. Our dove is so pretty in her nightgown, isn’t she?”

“Stunning,” he agrees, his cheeks ruddy as a schoolboy’s under her demanding gaze. “I couldn’t wait any longer.”

“Couldn’t, or wouldn’t?” Feyre reaches for me, and I let her draw me from his arms into hers, curious at the turn the night is taking. Her arms wind around my waist, pulling my body flush against hers. I feel it then, the anatomical shift she must have been working on while I prepared for bed, and I whine a little at the hardening line of her cock pulsing against me.

After the taste I had of it during our consummation, I’m beyond eager for more. But it’s not my birthday, so… I glance up at her and wait for further instruction. The kiss she gives me is light but lingering, drawing butterflies up from the depths of my stomach as her hands drift lower to grip my bottom appreciatively.

“Why don’t I get you into bed and warm you up properly,” Feyre says sweetly, kissing the tip of my nose. “Rhys, I want you at the foot of the bed, on your knees. Eyes closed.”

“Is this what you discussed at your little meeting today?” I ask tartly as she guides me to the mattress. Her answering laugh is husky, sensual, something reserved for dark corners of empty rooms. I feel my body’s immediate response as Feyre lays me back, settling me against the pillows while Rhys obediently takes his place on the floor.

“This?” she laughs, settling herself at my side, her hand stroking the curve of my hip. “Oh, yes. This and other things. Would you like me to show you what we discussed for the night?”

“Please?” I brush her hair back from her forehead, the golden-brown strands falling like silk between my fingers. Her lips meet mine again, and a scene plays out in my mind that has my toes curling. Oh. Yes, yes this is definitely something we’ll all enjoy. My hand slides over the dark silk to cup her breast, lightly squeezing the sensitive flesh as she grinds against my hip, her arousal trickling down the bond to join Rhys’s, fueling my own as I lie beneath her. Sensing my growing need, her hand slides up to the thin strap on my shoulder, guiding it down my arm as she slips from my mind, lowering her mouth to the soft peak.

At the foot of the bed, I hear a soft moan, and I know exactly what he must be seeing. Lovely, wicked creature, our Feyre. I’m sure there will be retribution of some sort for this little performance, and I can’t wait to see what it might be.

#chasing starlight #cs universe #feysand x reader #rhysand x reader #feyre x reader #acotar x reader

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the-unidentified-author · 5 months ago

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The Lord, The Lady and The Long Winter | Cregan Stark | House of the Dragon

Chapter 2/5?: The Wolf of the North

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 - Comming soon

Cregan Stark x House Baratheon Reader

One or more parts in this story will include the following:

Warnings/ Tags: SMUT[NSFW], smut, minors DNI, new relationship, arguments, harsh words,longing, p in v, creampie, cum play, a little rough, Cunnilingus, fingering, consensual!, hes a big man, orgasm denial, one orgasm after another 🚨SLOW BURN🚨

Summary: You’re betrothed to Cregan Stark. The pair of you navigate this relationship of convenience and perhaps even find love.

Word Count: 3,317

Not my gif, if its yours and you would like me to remove it just ask <3

A/N RANT: I find writing easy. I just splat ideas down on the page. It’s the editing that really gets me. I spend so much time deleting and rewriting, googling synonyms because somehow I’ve managed to use the same word 4,000 times in the last twenty sentences. Agonising over the wording and then Word for some reason trying to make me spell things in american. Then the grammar actually sends me over the edge, Word telling me that there should be a comma, so I add a comma and then no that’s wrong there shouldn’t be a comma there. It actually makes me go feral. Anyway, if anyone wonders why it takes me so long to post more parts, these are some of the reasons.

Chapter 1

It had taken a little over a month for your father and your entourage to reach the castle of Winterfell. As you journeyed, the number of layers and furs you wore in the carriage increased, each piece a necessary defence against the northern chill. It was the last day of the trip, and you were thankful it had finally come to an end, eager to sleep in the same bed for more than one night in a row. You stepped up into the carriage and turned to your father, who was already seated, his expression one of calm reassurance. "Almost there," he said, his voice steady as he attempted a smile.

You averted your gaze, sitting down and looking out at the landscape that unfolded outside. A heavy blanket of snow cloaked the ground, transforming the world into a vast, seamless expanse of white. The trees stood tall and skeletal, their branches laden with frost that sparkled like diamonds in the weak and low winter sun. Occasionally, the wind howled through the barren branches, sending a shiver down your spine and creating an eerie symphony that filled the otherwise still air.

The world outside seemed lifeless, devoid of colour and warmth—how you longed for the vibrant greens and the golden hues of the south, of home. You hadn’t seen an animal for more than a week, and the silence felt oppressive, magnifying the sense of isolation that you felt. Your mind wandered to what your sisters would be doing right now, likely studying or playing in the garden with your mother watching sewing something beautiful as she always was. A lump formed in your throat as you thought about how long it would be until you saw them again. This new landscape was as much a part of your new life as your upcoming marriage; it revealed in its stark beauty but also served as a constant reminder of the challenges that lay ahead. With the shutter closed, you felt a growing knot of anxiety within you, the weight of the impending changes heavy as the snow that blanketed the ground.

At some point, you had fallen asleep, though you couldn't recall when. The anticipation of the day had kept you awake through most of the night, and the uncomfortable seat of the carriage left your body aching. But then, the resounding blast of trumpets heralding your arrival jolted you from your sleep.

“Are we here?" you asked, glancing at your father, whose expression was distant, as if lost in thought.

"Yes," he replied, turning his gaze to meet yours.

"How long do we have before meeting the Starks?" you asked, smoothing your clothes and hoping the nap hadn’t left your hair in disarray.

"Lord Stark will greet us as soon as we step out of the carriage," your father replied, straightening in his seat.

"What? Aren’t we meeting in the hall after we've freshened up?" you exclaimed, taken aback by the immediacy, realising just how soon you'd face the man who’d share your future.

"Ah, but they're Northerners," your father said with a dismissive wave, "They'd find you lovely even in rags." The carriage lurched forward, jolting you both, as your heart raced.

You thought you would have just a little more time, a chance to gather your thoughts and brace yourself for the momentous introduction. Panic rose inside you as it became clear you had mere minutes before meeting the man who would be your husband.

Your heart raced with a flurry of questions and doubts. Would he be as the tales described—harsh and unyielding as the Northern winters—or might there be warmth beneath the layers of fur and Stoic silence? The uncertainties swirled, each more daunting than the last, wrapping around your thoughts like a relentless blizzard.

You fidgeted with the edge of your cloak, trying to calm the rising tide of unease. What if your mannerisms seemed too foreign, your presence too delicate for the rugged North? At this moment, you realised your entire future might rely on one singular, daunting introduction.

You focused on your breathing, counting each inhale and exhale slowly to five, as your mother had taught you to do in moments of unease. Her voice echoed in your mind, recounting stories of Lord Cregan Stark and how he had become the embodiment of his house’s strength. At just seventeen, he had fought for power against his uncle, rallying the North to his cause and earning the legendary title of the Wolf of the North.

Now, at twenty-five, he was widely renowned as the most powerful man in the region, with whispers even calling him the King in the North. His influence stretched far, untethered by the intricacies of southern politics. In the refuge of your measured breathing, you hoped to draw some comfort from the formidable reputation of the man who would soon become your husband. Could a man so brilliant at war be kind?

The carriage came to a rest, jolting you back to the present, you looked at your father, who attempted to give you a reassuring nod as the door of the carriage swung open. He moved through it first, giving you a precious few moments to prepare yourself before he turned and extended his hand inside the carriage to help you out and down.

The cold hit you first, making you draw a sharp breath, the icy air burning your lungs. For a brief moment, you looked around and watched as snowflakes danced in the chilled air, touching gently on Winterfell's ancient stone façade. You stepped out, the snow crunching beneath your feet, you were thankful for your father's firm grasp on your hand, worried for a moment that without it, you would slip.

The northern air was sharp and invigorating, a biting chill that seemed to permeate the very fabric of everything it touched. It was the kind of cold that, if endured for too long, would nestle deep into your bones, leaving a lingering reminder of the North’s untamed power. Pulling your thick cloak more tightly around yourself, you sought its warmth and comfort, a shield against the relentless chill.

Your father stepped forward with the practiced grace of his station, turning to address the Northerners who had assembled to witness your arrival.

"Greetings House Stark, I am Lord Borros Baratheon, of the House Baratheon, Lord of Storm's End. I have come to present to you, my daughter." His voice was, steady and confident. It carried over the soft whisper of the wind, acknowledging the strength of the Northern families and the significance of the union that would soon bind Baratheon and Stark.

He turned to you and gestured for you to step forwards, and you did, curtseying to the group. Your eyes swept over the crowd of Northerners—a sea of rugged faces hardened by the winter landscape. And there he stood, amidst them, undeniably Cregan Stark. His towering form was enveloped in commanding furs, every inch the lord who embodied the unforgiving north. He looked younger than you thought he would, hearing stories of how the north aged you beyond your years made you worried about what you would be confronted with up getting here.

Cregan stepped forward with an elegant grace, offering a formal bow. Yet, the warmth in his eyes spoke an unspoken promise of understanding and curiosity.

"Welcome to Winterfell," his voice resonated, deep and steady, his accent thick.

Your father and Cregan began discussing the plans for the coming days, their voices a steady hum amidst the towering stone walls of Winterfell. You followed closely behind them, the chill of the Northern air slowly giving way to the warmth of the hall, its fires crackling and casting flickering shadows that danced across the ancient stone.

Eventually, you found your place on a chair, one of many surrounding a small table strewn with maps and parchments that detailed the intricacies of alliances and strategies. The gathering of lords settled into their respective seats, enveloping the table in a sense of purpose and gravitas. Your father leaned forward, engaged in discussions about the expectations of this union, emphasising duty and honour—the very fabric of noble life.

As they spoke, a few lords occasionally cast friendly glances in your direction, but you could sense the unspoken rules that governed the conversation. This was not the sort of assembly where women were expected to voice their thoughts; instead, you listened intently, absorbing the dialogue around you. It was both fascinating and daunting, a whirlwind of responsibilities that felt far removed from the warmth of family gatherings you had known.

You were taken aback that they allowed you to sit at the table at all, a privilege that your father would never have granted you in the South. Perhaps the customs were different in the North, a notion that intrigued and unsettled you. As your gaze wandered around the assembly, it landed on one woman at the table—until that moment, you hadn't realised she was among them.

Dressed in masculine attire, she seemed to blend right in with the lords surrounding her, sitting tall and confident as they addressed her with the same respect reserved for their male counterparts. It was a striking sight, one that momentarily pulled you from your anxious thoughts about the future.

Then, the unexpected happened; she caught your eye and offered a warm smile that brightened her otherwise stern countenance. Heat rose to your cheeks as you realised you had been staring. Quickly, you turned your attention back to Cregan, the man you were to marry, feeling the weight of the room around you as you grappled with the complexities of your new reality.

Cregan Stark was a striking figure to behold, towering head and shoulders above your father, making it instantly clear why others held him in such high esteem. His presence conveyed more than mere physical stature; as soon as he began to speak, his demeanour and the way he carried himself revealed the essence of a man of honour. Unlike the tall men of the South, who seemed like a gust of wind might send them hurtling over the battlements into the sea, Cregan's stature was built broad and firm.

The cloak draped over his shoulders only added to his impressive build, yet you could tell at a glance that this was a physique forged through hard work and rigorous training, not by indulgence in luxuries. Every movement hinted at discipline and strength, an embodiment of the Northern spirit you had heard so much about.

Your eyes focused intently on his face as he spoke, captivated by the way his shoulder-length brown hair framed his features, catching the light to highlight the rugged lines that undeniably spoke of his Northern lineage. Cregan had a strong jaw, lending a chiseled quality to his visage that perfectly complemented the air of unyielding determination he exuded.

But it was his piercing blue eyes that truly drew you in—striking and deep, they seemed to hold an entire world within them. In contrast to the often stark demeanour he carried, those eyes contained an unexpected warmth, like a flickering flame against the cold backdrop of winter. There was a kindness in their depths, a silent promise that perhaps beneath the fierce exterior lay a man capable of tenderness and understanding. With every glance, you felt the pull of his gaze, an invitation to see beyond the bravado and discover the complexities that made him who he was.

He turned and met your eye, and it took you a second to realise that he had asked you a question, you looked around the room at the lords. All poised to listen to your response. You looked to your father for guidance.

"You'll have to excuse my daughter, the journey north has been long. However, I do think that she has enough strength left to accept your suggestion of a tour of Winterfell." he smiled at Lord Stark, who looked from you to your father, an understanding smile playing on his lips as he worked out you hadn't been paying attention.

He didn’t say anything, didn’t expose your lapse in concentration, just stood and shook your father's hand. You stood too as all the other lords stood and moved towards the door. You watched as they filtered out of the room, your father and Cregan being the only two aside from yourself still left in the room.

"Well, I would say that no chaperone is required, it is said that no one in the realms have as much honour as the Starks." your father said, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword as he looked between the two of you.

He nodded and gave you a small smile and turned to leave the room, the guards at the door opening and closing the door. You felt the resounding boom of the door closing in your chest as it seemed to echo around the entire room. The room seemed smaller as you looked from the door to Lord Stark, he looked so much more intimidating now it was only you in the room.

"My Lady, what part of Winterfell would you like to see first?" he asked stepping towards you.

"I- I don’t know." you whispered, finding it too difficult to look him in the eye.

"May I?" he asked, gesturing to your cloak which you had removed and placed on the back of your chair.

You nodded, he carefully picked it up and placed it over your shoulders, you moved your hands to do up the buckle that would secure it to your body and turned to Lord Stark. The massive sword slung across his back caught your attention, its hilt visible above his shoulder—a symbol of the strength and legends whispered in the halls of your childhood home. It seemed a natural extension of him—an embodiment of Cregan Stark, the warrior and the lord.

He smiled down at you, warmth and friendliness lighting up his features. With a gentle tilt of his eyebrow, he extended his elbow towards you, inviting you to take it.

"Well, I shall show you my favourite parts of the castle, and then we'll join your father and the other lords for a late tea," he said, his deep voice smooth and rich, like honey.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, as you took his hand and allowed him to guide you out of the room. Agreeing to marry someone you had never met was undoubtedly a gamble, fraught with uncertainties. Yet, with this match, a sense of hopefulness stirred within you—a feeling as if you had struck gold in a world tarnished by rusted steel.

Your thoughts drifted back to the moment you first learned of your betrothal. That night, your mother had remained by your side, holding you close as you cried, part of you mourning your childhood and the other terrified of the future. She assured you that everything would be alright, words you initially dismissed as just the comforting words you say to someone when they're crying.

But now, with time and distance, you started to see that moment in a different light. There was a certainty in her voice that had been unwavering, and it made you wonder if she had played a part in your match with Lord Stark. Her confidence lingered in your mind, suggesting that perhaps this match carried more promise than you dared to imagine in those initial, tear-filled moments.

Winterfell was a beautiful castle, said to be one of the oldest still standing. As Cregan showed you around, you noticed something different in the way he spoke. Unlike most men, who seemed more interested in proving themselves smarter than you by belittling or over-explaining, Lord Stark had a unique approach.

His way of speaking about the castle and its history felt more like listening to a passionate teacher than a rehearsed lecture. He engaged you with stories, making each tale and detail come alive, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of respect and curiosity grow within you. It was refreshing and made you appreciate not only Winterfell, but also the man guiding you through its storied halls.

He had suggested that the two of you look out over the battlements before retiring to the great hall for something to eat. The climb up to the battlements was more challenging than you had anticipated. The stairs were far narrower than any you had navigated at Storm's End, making you marvel at how men clad in armour could swiftly manoeuvre them during times of war. Yet, as you reached the top, the sight that greeted you was nothing short of breathtaking—a vast, snowy landscape stretching as far as the eye could see. There was a vast expanse of forest in the distance, but even that was coated in snow.

Your home back in Storm's End prided itself on its massive walls for protection against invaders. However, here at Winterfell, the tall walls paired with its isolated, formidable position in the North presented a different kind of strength. The harsh, unforgiving landscape surrounding Winterfell seemed an ally to its defenders, an icy gauntlet capable of claiming the lives of unprepared southern soldiers long before they could even reach the walls. The beauty and latent power of the scene sent a shiver through you, a reminder of the resilience required to thrive in this raw and rugged part of the world.

"There is a small moat hidden by the snow at the bottom of the wall," Cregan began, his gaze shifting to you with a knowing glint in his eyes, as if he was sharing a secret of the North only a few were privy to. "If aren't aware of it and attempt to climb the wall, you sink into snow taller than a man."

You withdrew your hand from the warmth of your fur muff, moving to grasp the metal handle fixed to the wall, hoping to steady yourself for a better view over the battlements. The chill of the metal immediately shot through your fingers, contrasting sharply with the cozy warmth of the muff.

"Agh," you gasped, yanking your hand away from the frigid metal.

Before you could even check for injury, Cregan Stark's gloved hand enveloped yours with a surprising gentleness. He looked down at your hand, his thumb softly brushing across your palm, sending a tingle through your skin. "Careful, My Lady," he murmured, his voice carrying a deep, soothing timbre. "Warm hands stick to cold metal. You could lose some skin if you're not careful."

You grimaced at the thought and glanced back at the metal, reassuring yourself that none of your skin lingered there. "It burns,” you whispered, eyes dropping to the red mark on your palm.

Cregan's gaze met yours, holding a mix of concern and something unspoken. He raised his hand to his mouth, biting the finger of his glove and pulling it off, his breath misting in the cold air. He placed his large, now bare hand over yours, its warmth seeping through your skin, soothing the sting of the cold. His touch seemed to linger longer than necessary, then he removed his hand from yours and pulled the glove from his mouth.

"Careful my Lady, the cold burns sometimes more than fire." He remarked, eyes locked on yours, before slipping his hand back into the glove with deliberate care. "We ought to get you some gloves." His voice carried both practicality and an undercurrent of tenderness that surprised you.

He offered his arm once more, and this time, as you looped your arm around his, the touch felt more intimate, more charged. You tucked your hand back into your fur muff, your hand still feeling the ghost of his.

A Link to My Complete Inventory

#cregan stark x reader #cregan stark x you #cregan stark #hotd #hotd fanfic #Lord stark #hotd cregan #fanfic #slow burn #i wrote this for me #winterfell #cregan fanfiction #cregan smut #house baratheon

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cinnamoonblue · 6 months ago

Text

Chapter VIII | The Beach

Summary: You moved to one of the biggest cities in the world - Grand Line to pursue filmmaking career. Soon enough your path will cross with the vocalist of upcoming band called “The Neighbourhood”. At first you decided to be just friends - because it would be easier, but sadly as everything in life sometimes by taking the easy path we regret a lot of things.

Main characters: Portgas D Ace x Reader (female)

Supporting characters: Nami, Usopp, Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Law, Deuce, Shanks, Buggy, Sabo, Eustass Kid, Koala, Robin, Dave (OC)

Description: Modern AU | Musician Ace

WARNINGS: ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED UP this story will contain descriptions of violence, 18+ only, contains explicit sexual themes and content, explicit language, use of alcohol, use of cannabis, use of nicotine/cigarettes, angst, hurt/no comfort, hurt/comfort, implied injury, family trauma, slow burn, destructive behavior, toxic behavior, illegal activities, NSFW, conflicted feelings, loneliness, pain, conflicted relationship, emotional distress, jealousy, suggestive themes, violence, substance use, mentions of death, mentions of suicide, mentions of depression, mentions of loosing a loved one, mentions of violence, PLEASE PAY ATTENTION TO THE WARNINGS

Word Count: 20,2K

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NOTE: First I want to thank you all for the patience ♡ I now that it has been a month since I last posted a chapter, but I had a little writers block (and two more fics) and I wasn't exactly sure how I want to structure this chapter and what should I left for the next one, but the chapter turned out pretty long anyway, so at least next one will be out faster as I already know what I want to write about in it ♡ Just to add something quick for those of you who have watched the show 'Shameless' the house and the neighborhood where the ASL trio grew up is the exact same vibe. Also please note when you read the last part of the chapter that I have purposely referred to Reader as 'you' and not as 'her' as this is the first time where you have an interaction between her/you and Ace from mostly Ace POV, so it's not a writing mistake. I have some more things to say, but I will keep them for the end note as I don't want to spoil anything for you, so enjoy ♡

Twenty years ago

Walking into the house and kicking his shoes off the little kid with bloody nose grumbled as he heard his aunt talking loudly to someone, probably on the phone. Rolling his eyes the child tried to sneak in quietly through the hallway to go to his room, but his attempts were unsuccessful.

“Ace.” Dadan’s loud voice filled the house, causing Ace to roll his eyes. “Don’t try to sneak in, brat. I saw you coming from the window.”

Rolling his eyes again, the six years old child made his way to the kitchen. Walking in, his eyes landed on the tall overweight woman, who had a cigarette between her lips as always. Her curly long ginger hair was falling freely on her broad shoulders and her brown eyes were now fixated on Ace.

“Did you get in a fight, again?” She eyed him up and down carefully, waiting for the child to start speaking.

“What do you think Dadan?” Ace angrily scrunched his whole face as he looks at Dadan. Taking a long puff from her cigarette, Dadan just shook her head as she turned her attention back to the boiling pot on the stove.

“Go get clean.” She told Ace, who stormed out from the kitchen and made his way upstairs to his room. “Ah, Rogue. How could you leave me this son of yours, who is good for nothing.” She mumbled to herself. “This kid will end up like his dad one day.”

Going to the bathroom, Ace grabbed the little step ladder there and climbed on it to open the cabinet where first emergency kit was. Dadan had stopped cleaning his bloody nose long time ago as she got tired of him getting into fights every other day with the older kids in the street. That was why Ace had to learn how to clean his own bloody nose alone, along with the bruises on his body.

For only a six years old child he was quite independent mostly due to the fact that Dadan couldn’t manage with his behaviour and has given up on trying to discipline him. For his age Ace was a menace – too angry and grumpy for a kid. He got kicked out from kindergarten for bad behaviour and terrorising the rest of the children, for which Dadan was now stuck to stay home most of the time because leaving him alone would be against the law. Not like she did spend time with him, but in case someone calls the child services she must be around. It had happened once, they came to look at their home because someone’s mother from the kindergarten had called on the family, if you could call it one. Thankfully Dadan had connections with one of the heads of the social works and he saved her and Ace from being separated, but for this she must return him a big number of favours.

Sometimes Dadan wondered if it was worth it - yes, Ace was her beloved little sister’s child, but he had taken none of her kindness, the kid was a walking disaster and a copy of his father, the only thing he had from her sister were the freckles. That was why sometimes she was questioning if Ace would have been better off in some foster family or adopted by somebody else, but Dadan had promised Rouge that she would take care of him no matter what because it was her death wish. If Rouge was alive, Dadan was sure she would have taken better care of the boy, as Dadan herself was lacking all the mother instincts, something her sister always had and wanted.

Ace was a wanted child by both of his parents, but he would never know about this or even if he did, he wouldn’t believe it. He knew some things regarding who his mother was and how she looked, but when it came to his father, he knew nothing about him but that he was a well known and wanted criminal who died before Ace was born and from whom he has taken everything bad. As Dadan once screamed at him ‘You are good for nothing, brat. Just like the father of yours.’ These words have echoed in his ears since then.

Cleaning the blood off his nose, Ace stepped down from the small ladder and put it back to the side. Exiting the bathroom with a kick of the door, Ace went straight to his room. Opening and closing the door to it, he quickly locked it in case Dadan decided to come and bothered him.

The room was pretty small – with only a single bed and a small nightstand on the side and not so big wardrobe. Ace didn’t have many toys or books to begin with so the room wasn’t full of the typical things that other children might have in their rooms. Getting on his knees next to the bed, Ace reached with his hands for the little shoe box he has hidden under it. Inside the box was filled with things he had stolen from other children – Hot Wheels, which Dadan would never buy him until he would learn to behave and because of it Ace took it in his own hands to find a way to have them, some Lego pieces and his most recent and treasured of them all – an iPod with a pair of headphones.

Ace stole the iPod two day ago, from some teenage girl at the nearby park. He saw how she and her friends weren’t paying attention to their surroundings so the moment he spotted the iPod in the side pocket of her bag he was determined to have it. Walking closer to them he tripped on purpose and started to “cry” to which the girls immediately jumped to help him as who wouldn’t help a little adorable kid like him. While the girls were trying to cheer him up, he used the time to ask them for an ice cream and all four of them were quick to jump and run to buy him one, leaving all their belongings on the side. By the time they were back, Ace had left with the iPod and the headphones. The girl, from whom he has stolen the iPod, didn’t realise that it was missing until she was on her way home, but even then, it didn’t cross her mind that it was Ace who had stolen it, and it was probably her who dropped it somewhere.

The only problem that Ace had now was that the iPod was almost out of battery, and he didn’t have any charger for it, nor he was sure of how to charge it. Asking Dadan would lead to a fight with her, and she wasn’t very good with electronics so he must find a solution on his own. Placing the headphones on his head Ace started going through the songs on the iPod, luckily for him, the girl from who he stole it had a lot of songs on it, but not all of them matched his taste.

Music has always calmed him, and it also made him feel connected to his mom. He had seen many pictures of her holding a guitar while singing, once on a very old video tape he even heard her singing. His mother had a beautiful and melodic voice, one he could listen to for hours. Sometimes while listening to music Ace would catch himself singing along or humming the song he was currently listening to, which was very comforting for him. Not only he found something to connect with his mother, but also something that gave him the peace of mind.

Laying down on the bed with the headphones on his ears and some song he has never heard before, Ace closed his eyes, a deep exhale coming out of his chest into the air. The song was very old compared to the other ones on the iPod, which were more modern and with more fasten rhythm, but this one was slow and sensual.

Say my name Sun shines through the rain Do you understand? Do you feel the same? Am I only dreaming? Is this burning an eternal flame?

Listening closely to the lyrics, Ace was tapping with his finger on the bed following the rhythm of the song. He wasn’t a fan of love songs at all, let alone a love ballad, but there was something catchy about this one.

A whole life so lonely And then come and ease the pain I don't wanna lose this feelin', oh

Ace never knew what affection or love was. Dadan was never gentle with him nor affectionate, she was there for him to provide what he needed the most which was a roof over his head and a meal on the table. She had said it to him – “Don’t mistake me for a mother, I ain’t one.” And this has stuck with him since then. He has never ever even received a hug from her, not even on his birthday. Until he was four years old, Ace didn’t even know when his birthday was. One day he just woke up and was met with a cake in the kitchen and a ‘Happy Birthday, brat’ from Dadan and that was it, since that day he knew when his birthday was, but it was never something special, it was never something worth celebrating in their household.

Close your eyes, give me your hand, darling

A single tear ran down his round cheek and he was quick to wipe it away with the back of his hand. Ace never cries. He couldn’t and shouldn’t – ‘big strong men don’t cry’, that was what he was told. And he was one - a big strong man, in the body of a six years old child who craved nothing but some affection. A child which needed someone to wrap their arms around his tiny form and tell him that everything would be alright.

The song was at its final chorus when Ace heard a loud banging on the door. He sat straight in the bed immediately as he heard Dadan voice.

“What are you doing locked there, brat? Open the door immediately.” Her loud and raspy voice from all the cigarettes she has smoked echoed through the house. Removing the headphones from his head, Ace hid them and the iPod under his pillow. Jumping out of bed quickly he went and unlocked the door, opening it with one swift move.

“What do you want Dadan?” The little boy asked with an angry voice and frown brows.

“Dinner’s ready. Come downstairs – Dogra and Magra are home now, and we have something important to speak about.” She said and left without waiting for response from the child. Closing the door once again, Ace made sure to put back the iPod in the box under his bed.

Going downstairs into the kitchen, Dogara – a short skinny bald man with a clean shaved face and Magra – a tall very muscular man with a long mustache and bright red hair shaved on both sides. leaving only some hair in the middle, were sitting on the round table. They were living with him and Dadan, since Ace could remember, so they were practically a family. Ace took his usual sit next to Dogara and waited for Dadan to place the food on the table.

Placing the pot of stew in the middle of the table, Dadan filled her and Ace’s plate and Dogara and Magara did the same. Ace tried reaching with his hand for some bread and Dogara saw his struggle to reached it, so he handed it to him easily.

“There you go, Ace.” He said with a smile as Ace snatched the loaf from his hands.

“Say thanks, brat.” Dadan was quick to scoff the little boy as he was lacking all kind of manners. He only rolled his eyes to her and took a big bite of the bread not carrying about what he was being told.

The adults on the table were having a conversation while Ace was just focused on his food not paying attention to whatever they were walking about.

“Listen, Ace.” Dadan’s voice interrupted his thoughts. Moving his eyes from his plate to her, Ace fixed his gaze on Dadan. “From next month you are going to pre-school and this time you will behave, okay! You heard me clearly, brat?” She gave him a stern look which was met with Ace’s unbothered eyes. “Also, Garp came by two days ago. We are going to foster a kid your age from next week, which means you both are going to pre-school, and you are also going to share your room with him.”

Hearing this Ace whole face scrunched with anger. Why should he share? Why was Dadan fostering another kid when she was barely paying any attention to Ace? Why wasn’t he enough?

“I’m not sharing my room.” He yelled angrily at her as he dropped his spoon in the plate splashing some of the food around the table and on the floor.

“You have no saying in this, brat. Dogara and Magra are going to buy and build a bunk bed tomorrow in your room so make sure to clean around the shit you have.” Dadan had no choice but to raise her voice at him a bit, as he was stubborn as aways, never making things easy for her.

The chair on which Ace sat made a loud quacking noise on the floor as Ace pulled it away from the table and jumped off it, storming out from the kitchen. ‘Stupid Dadan, stupid house and stupid kid’ He was murmuring to himself as he was running up the stairs and going straight to his room. Closing the door shut after himself and locking it, he ran to the bed and pulled out the box under it, taking the iPod off it. Placing the headphones over his head and laying on the bed, he played the old ballad love song. Ace closed his eyes and turned around burring his face in the pillow, biting on it he tried his best not to let the tears fall from his eyes as his little fists were clenching the bedsheets. Soon the room was filled with the sound on his quiet sobs. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair for him to have to share when he barely had anything to begin with. It wasn’t fair for another kid to come and live with them when Dadan didn’t even want Ace in a first place or did she only feel this way about Ace? Did she only not want Ace? Why didn’t she want him in a fist place? They shared the same blood after all. He was her sister’s child, she was his aunt – why was she never nice and loving towards him? Ace knew that he was very bad behaving child, and he didn’t like this, but at the same time he couldn’t help it, because it was only then when Dadan would pay him any attention. It was only then when he could get any attention from her. Ace didn’t want much, he only wished to feel wanted by someone, anyone. Yet, this wish seemed to be impossible.

‘You are good for nothing.’ The words echoed through the child’s mind again. Was this true? Was he never going to be good at something? Was he going to cause trouble all his life? Was he never going to find someone to love and accept him with all his flaws – not even a friend? Would he ever find a friend in this world? Why was he cursed to be all by himself and lonely?

A year later

Laughter filled the house when the two young boys burst in it after their first day in school. Kicking their shoes on the side and ready to run upstairs they were interrupted by Dadan’s voice calling them from the living room. With a groan the two kids followed the voice and walked in the room only to see her sitting on the very old and worn-out couch, but to their surprise next to her on it was sitting a little boy no older than three years old, with a runny nose and eyes filled with tears. Both Ace and Sabo looked at each other with confusion written all over their faces.

“This is Luffy, and he will be part of the family from now on, come on Luffy introduce yourself.” Hearing her voice being almost tender Ace was taken aback by the fact that Dadan could be this gentle towards a child. Not only the softness in her voice but also the way she was caressing the child’s back so gently made his eyes widen. She has never been this tender with him nor he could remember if she has. He has seen some of her calmer side with Sabo, but never this gentle, never this carrying. “It’s okay, Luffy. They will be nice towards you.” She encouraged the little child to look up and speak to the two older children. With a trembling lip he finally gained the courage to look up at them and as he was parting his lips to introduce himself, Luffy got interrupted.

“What the hell, Dadan?” Ace angry voice filled up the room.

“Watch your tongue, brat.” Dadan yelled at him with a warning tone.

“Why are you fostering another kid?” Ace’s little fists squeezed and his brows frowned as his eyes were moving between Dadan and the cry baby next to her. He might have been only seven, but Ace knew how much they were struggling financially and that they were barely making the ends, with this kid around the house this was only going to worsen things even more.

“None of your concern, brat.” She cut him off and turned again to Luffy. “Come on now, don’t mind those two, especially the brat one.” Dadan side-eyed Ace with a warn in her eyes to behave.

“I-I’m Luffy a-and I-I’m three years old.” Said the little boy with hair as black and messy as Ace’s. Even his eyes were a similar colour to his, if they were to stand next to each other, someone might mistake them for brothers. Dadan clapped with her hands and congratulated Luffy for being brave by introducing himself.

“Now you two.” Her tone completely changed for Ace and Sabo.

“Hey Luffy, my name is Sabo, and this here is Ace.” Sabo, the blonde boy who Dadan took in her home a year ago, smiled at Luffy and pointed with his thumb towards Ace who just scowled at Luffy. “We are both seven years old and we just started elementary school.”

If Ace was a grumpy menace, then Sabo was almost the same – he was just smart enough to hid it from Dadan and other adults around, in front of them he was just a sweet polite child, which even in their household was barely receiving a “no”.

To everyone’s surprise it didn’t take long for Ace and Sabo to get along, in fact they were the same when in came to mischiefs, but it was mostly Ace who was taking the blame for it. Sabo usually would get a scold while Ace would get scold and yelled at the same time. But Ace was telling himself that this was okay, after all he was carrying the cross of the black sheep in the family on his back.

“Luffy is going to sleep in your room. We al-”

“What? There isn’t any space left, you old hag.” Ace yelled and got closer to Dadan and Luffy.

“Who are you calling an old hag, you brat.” Dadan yelled back at him and got up from the couch. Her tall form casting a shadow over Ace, but he didn’t even flinch, this encounter between them was something typical.

“This cry baby is not allowed in my room.” His eyes moved to Luffy who was looking at him with widen tearily eyes and then back to the angry woman in front of him. Turning around angrily, Ace stormed out of the room.

“This is not your room only, brat.” Dadan yelled after him. “Sabo, take Luffy with you and show him the room.” She turned then to Sabo as she grabbed Luffy’s small hand and made him stand up from the couch. Sabo just nodded and took the little kid’s hand in his and lead him upstairs to their room.

Entering the room both Sabo and Luffy’s eyes widen from the sight in front of them – the bedsheets and the pillow on the bed, which was placed next to the window and prepared for Luffy, were torn apart and threw on the ground. Kicking the pillow right in Luffy’s face Ace stepped closer to him, his eyes full of rage.

“You are not welcomed here little shit, keep this in mind.”

Nine years later

It was a nice warm autumn day and music was blasting from the garage and could be heard from any corner of the streets. The two sixteen years old boys were playing music in there – Sabo, now grown up, his face slowly changing into more mature one but still very boyish, covered with some acne spots on his chin and cheeks, something typical for this age, was hitting the drums, while his brother Ace, who like Sabo has grown so much in the past almost ten years, now taller, but with face a little bit more boyish than Sabo’s, attitude still the same but now a little bit under control, was playing the guitar.

“Hey, hey Ace.” Sabo yelled at his brother who continue playing some melody on his guitar. Hearing his yelling Ace stopped and focused his attention on him. “When is Law coming? Wasn’t he supposed to be here like an hour ago?”

Law was Ace’s classmate and best friend who also taught him how to play the guitar, which lead to them three playing together in the garage almost everyday now. Ace’s brows knitted as he looked at his watch, it was true, his friend was supposed to be here by now.

“Ye, I’ll text him.” Pulling the broken screen phone from his pocket, Ace started typing with one hand while with the other he was holding his guitar. “He said he is on his w-” He couldn’t finish his sentence as he saw his little brother Luffy running in full speed towards the house and storming in, while holding his left cheek like he was hurt. Looking over his shoulder at Sabo to make sure that he saw the same thing as him, the two brothers exchanged confused looks as Luffy aways comes to them first thing first when he comes back home from school or anywhere in general.

“Should we check?” They both said at the same time. With just a nod Ace removed the guitar from his shoulders and Sabo dropped the drumsticks and they ran inside the house.

“Luffy.” Ace screamed as they entered their shared room, but their little brother was no where to be seen.

“Maybe he is in the bathroom.” Sabo placed his hand on Ace’s shoulder and pointed with his head towards the end of the hallway. The two boys made their way to the bathroom door and heard the water running. “Hey, Luffy. Everything okay?” Knocking on the door, Sabo waited for his response, but nothing came.

“Luffy, come on. Say something, we know you are here.” Ace leaned on the wall next to the doorcase as he crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for his brother’s response.

“G-go away. Both of you.” A trembling voice yelled from the other side of the door. The two older brothers rolled back their shoulders and straighten their postures as they heard the voice filled with pain.

“Yo, yo Luffy. What the fuck is going on?” Ace raised his voice as he wasn’t the most patient person to exist. Sabo hit him on the chest with the back of his hand as his blue eyes shoot at his brother’s deep brown ones with a warning look telling him without words to calm down.

“Come on, Lu. Did you get beaten up at school again?” Sabo softly chuckled. Sometimes some of the older kids in his school bullied him in school, for which Sabo and Ace made fun of him from time to time, but they were also ready to back him up if he just said so. “Open the door, we won’t make fun of you.”

“Much.” Ace added with a smirk which caused Sabo to snort, but he was quick to compose himself.

“No, Luffy don’t listen to Ace.”

“Ye, Lu. I was messing with you.” Ace’s voice became a little softer now as he tried to assure his brother to come out and speak with them.

“Go away.” Luffy screamed again, but this time the sob that escaped his lips was heard by his brothers.

“Luffy, if you don’t open this door I will.” Ace warned him as his patience was wearing thin.

“And so, will I.” Sabo added.

One of the doors in the hallway opened and from it came out Dogara – still short and bald, he looked at the guys in disbelief.

“What are you three yelling about this time?” He screamed at the two boys who were ignoring him. “I’m talking to you two.” He screamed again as he walked closer to them.

“Shut up.” The two brothers, now so much taller than Dogara, screamed in unison causing the short man to flinch.

“I’m telling Dadan.” He murmured going back to his room determined to call their foster-mother.

“Luffy this is the last warning, open the door or we will.” This time it was Sabo who warned the youngest of them three.

“I’m fine. P-please, go away.” Tears were falling down from Luffy’s eyes mixing with the blood coming from under his left eye. The twelve years old kid was trying to find something to stich himself from the first aid kit they had in the bathroom, but luck wasn’t on his side so the only things left in the kit were some bandages and plasters, none of which would help ease the pain or stich the knife cut under his eye.

Luffy didn’t want his older brothers to see this, because he knew they would go and do something crazy and bad to the person who did this to him, especially Ace. Ace was always the one who jumped head first when it came to protecting his younger brothers, even if he was only a few months older than Sabo, Ace was considered by them as their big brother as he was always the one to jump and protect them no matter the situation or if they were in fact the one who did wrong, he was always there for them. He was always there for the people he loved and cared for, even if he wasn’t the best in expressing his love and affection with words, he aways made sure to prove it by actions.

The two brothers on the other side of the door exchange a quick look with a nodded and with one kick at the door, which has received many kicks since the three of them have been living in here, opened wide. Luffy immediately tried to hide his face, but it was too late. His older brothers’ eyes widen from the side. The whole sink was covered in blood and so was the towel which Luffy was pressing on his face.

“Luffy are you okay?” Sabo was first to come to his senses and immediately stood on his knees next to his younger brother. Taking the towel from his hands he removed it from his face to see what was causing so much bleeding, which cause him to slightly gag at the sight of the stab under his eyes.

“Luffy... who did this?” Ace’s voice was cold, almost emotionless. He was standing leaned on the door facing away from his brothers. The only thing they could see was his clenched jaw and fists. Luffy didn’t know to whom to response first – one was extremely worried, the other extremely furious.

“Answer Luffy!” Both screamed at the same time. Luffy bit on his trembling lower lip as he focused his eyes on Ace. Both of his brothers were way taller than him as puberty has hit them already two years ago which caused Luffy to feel even smaller as he was towered by them now, more specifically by Ace.

“Ace, please.” Luffy cried out. “It was an accident. They didn’t mean it to get this far.”

“Did it happen at school? Was it the older kids?” Sabo was quick to ask, as much as he was worried, he was also enraged as Ace, but still he had to keep his cool for now and think rationality because before they go and take care of whoever did this to their little brother, they must take care of the wound first.

Luffy’s eyes were moving between Ace and Sabo, not sure and scared of how they would react and what would come next. After all they had grown up in the worst aera of Grand Line city. They were ghetto boys, who didn’t grow up with much they grew up almost with nothing, but they always had each other. Their childhood wasn’t easy, but the moment they became brothers, life started to have some meaning, some colour. Life stopped being so lonely, especially for Ace.

“Ye, Lu. Come on, tell us.” Ace finally turned to his little brother and faced him, which scared Luffy because across his older brother’s face was placed a gentle smile. Ace never smiles like this. Ace has never been this calm out of nowhere. But Luffy was just a kid, and so were his brothers, but they have made a vow that Luffy will have a childhood unlike them. They have made a promise that no matter what Luffy wouldn’t bare the pain of loneliness or sadness the same way they did, and Ace had made a promise to himself that no matter what he would try to do the same for Sabo.

“I-It was... it wasn’t kids from m-my school.” Luffy hiccupped. “It... it... it was Teach... from your school Ace.”

Hearing this Ace just looked one last time at Luffy and then Sabo and before any of them had the time to react, Ace has run off to find Teach. He was two years older than Ace and since day one, he had tired to picked on Ace, but it was no successes as every time they would get in a fight, Marshall D Teach would get his ass beaten at the end. Ace and Sabo didn’t attend the same high school, because Ace was kicked out for bad behaviour from it and that was how he ended up in a different one, but thanks to this he had met Law.

Sabo screamed after Ace, and so did Luffy but it was pointless. Holding the bloody towel to Luffy’s face, Sabo grabbed his phone from his pocket and dialled his best friend Koala. He quickly explained to her that he needed her help and that she must take his little brother to the hospital as soon as possible. Koala told him that she would come with one of her father’s drivers to pick Luffy up and get him to the hospital, and with this the conversation ended.

“Okay, Luffy now listen to me.” He grabbed his little brother by the shoulders and made sure he focused on him. “Koala will be here soon, meanwhile you will keep pressing the towel to your face and wait for her on the porch.” Sabo held Luffy’s hand to his face where the wound was and made him press as blood continued to come out of it. “I must go after Ace before he does something crazy, so please come with me downstairs now and don’t come after me, wait for Koala, am I clear?” Sabo’s blue eyes were filled with worry for both of his brothers – one hurt and the other one crazy. “Luffy promise me that this time you will listen to me and do what I’ve told you.” He pleaded as he stood up and grabbed Luffy by his hand, running with him downstairs.

Sitting Luffy on the stairs at the front porch, Sabo was ready to run after Ace when Luffy grabbed his hand and stopped him.

“Is Ace going to be in a big trouble because of me?” His brown eyes were filled with worry and guilt.

“Luffy, you are not the one to blame, okay?” Sabo was fast to reassure his little brother that this wasn't his fault even if he still didn't know what cause the stabbing, he knew that picking on twelve years old in such way is unforgivable. Especially if the twelve years old happened to be his little brother. “Ace is doing what every big brother would do in this situation and so do I, we won’t get in trouble, I promise you.” He gave a small smile to his kid brother and ruffled his messy black hair before he ran off.

Ace knew where to find Teach, so he wasted no time running to one of the old outdoor basketball courts close to their neighbourhood. Teach could pick on him as much as he wanted, but not Luffy. Especially in such way, he could have taken his eye off or worst kill him, and for what? Only to angered Ace?

By the time Ace reached the court he was all covered in sweat. Seeing some of Teach’s friends there he yelled his name. The moment his friends heard Ace’s furious scream, they started to run but Ace was fast to catch one of them by the collar of his shirt.

“You better tell me where your piece of shit friend is or you gonna get all the beating for him.” Ace hissed in his face.

“He... he ran a-away s-somewhere m-man. W-we haven’t seen h-him since.” The guy’s voice trembled with fear, but Ace wasn’t buying it, so he just punched the guy’s stomach making him writhed in pain.

“Think again. Where is Teach?” Ace pushed the boy’s body on the ground and was ready to kick him when the guy put his hands out to stop Ace from colliding his foot with his stomach.

“I-I swear m-man. H-he ran off. H-he probably is ether at home or y-you know his uncles g-garage spot?” The guy waited for Ace’s response. Ace thought for a second before nodding, he knew where the place was. “H-he must be there, a-as y-you know h-his uncle i-is into s-shady things so he must have gone there to hide.”

Crouching next to the guy on the ground, Ace grabbed his hair in a fist and pulled it.

“Listen carefully now.” He started with a low warning tone. “If I go there, and he isn’t there as you’ve said, I’ll come back and you will need to pick up every single tooth you have off the ground, am I clear?”

“I swear, Ace he is either there or at home.” The guy cried out.

Ace let go of him and stood up. All he could see and hear was red. Marchall D Teach was going to pay for almost blinding his little brother. He could mess up with Ace as much as wanted but today he crossed all lines, and he was going to learn his lesson for that.

Despite his appearance, Ace was quite strong for his age. His skinny and tall body was durable to fights, but he could say that it was thanks to the fact that he grew up on the streets, after all the area where the brothers came from was know as the worst possible place to live in Grand Line.

Leaving the basketball court, he heard a well familiar voice calling out his name. Not turning back as he knew that Sabo would catch up to him, Ace continued walking. He felt Sabo’s hand on his shoulder as he held him back for a second, while he tried to catch his breath.

“Ace, wait.” Sabo said in between breaths. “We must come with a plan or something or even better just call the police.” He wanted and tried to reason his brother.

“The plan is we find him, I kill ‘im, and then we continue with our lives.” Ace jerked his shoulder from Sabo’s hand and continued walking.

“Ace be rational for just a second.” Sabo screamed at his brother as he pulled his blond locks. “I’m as mad as you are, but this will lead only to more problems.” Ace continued to ignore him, which only fuelled Sabo’s irritation with his own brother. “Listen to me when I talk to you, you bullhead.” Sabo stood in front of him and placed his hands on Ace’s chest to stop him from taking any step further. “Let’s call the police, for this he can even go to prison as he is of legal age.”

“He hurt Luffy.” Ace screamed in his brother’s face. “And he is going to pay for it. Now you either move away or I’m going to beat your ass as well.” He pushed Sabo away, hard enough to almost making him trip.

“I’m trying to safe your ass from making a big mistake.” Sabo screamed after Ace.

“I’m doing what is right.” Ace spatted without even turning to look at him, all he could wanted was a revenge. With a sigh, Sabo ran after him one more time. If Ace was going to get in trouble he wasn’t going to do it alone. He understood his brother’s reasons, and even if he didn’t agree with them and how he wanted to handle it, Sabo wasn’t going to let him do it alone, after all Luffy wasn’t only Ace’s little brother, he was his as well and as such they must revenge the harm that was caused upon Luffy. Mess with them, but not with their little brother.

“Are you sure he is here?” Sabo turned to Ace as they were now standing in front of the old garage where Teach’s uncle clamed to repair cars in it, but it was well known that this was a lie and he was hiding some shady business behind the whole ‘car repairing’ thing.

“Should be.” Ace replied as he nodded his head towards the garage, indicating to Sabo to follow him.

“So again, you have any other plan than beating him?”

“Ye, beating him to death.”

“Your heart is too pure for this Ace.” Sabo knew his brother very well, no matter how much Ace wanted to be seen and perceived as the ‘bad boy’, the ‘nonchalant’, ‘not giving a single fuck’ guy he was neither of these things. His brother was too good for this world, but the world wasn’t so nice to him. Ace has carried the most of their family’s burden and Sabo didn’t want him to add another one to the list.

Ignoring Sabo’s words Ace was the first one to approach the big old garage which was wide opened and inside were some older men in their late forties. Teach’s uncle was the first one to notice the approaching boys.

“Dadan’s boys, what brings me the privilege to be honoured by your visit?” The nasty smile on his fat and oily face bloomed on his lips as he eyed the two young boys. It was clear from where his nephew was coping the nasty manners.

“Where is Teach?” Ace wasted no time but getting to the point.

“I don’t know.” His uncle brazenly laughed causing the other three men to do the same. “Why you need him, Gol’s boy?” It was a well-known fact around this area whose Ace’s biological father was and how much he denied him as such.

“I’m Portgas.” The young boy corrected him as his dark brown eyes pierced the arrogant man’s ones.

“Ha, you heard that boys? The brat is Portgas.” His loud and nasty laughter filled up the space around as everyone started to laugh at the boy’s statement. “You know, your mother Rouge used to be one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen... it’s sad she died so young.” The man sarcastically clicked with his tongue.

This was the name you should never mention in front of Ace with such dishonour, especially if you were a nasty disgusting man like Teach’s uncle. Just before Ace could say anything, Sabo interrupted.

“We really need to speak with Teach.” He held on his brother’s shoulder and tried to keep his behaviour unsuspicious.

“I don’t know where he is blondie, probably home or somewhere out in the streets, I don’t care much where the brat goes, so now take your bastard brother and get the fuck out of my shop.” The man spatted at the brothers as he wasn’t a fan of their family nor them.

“Who are you calling bastard, you ugly pig.” Ace yelled at him, but Sabo was fast to hold on him and stop the fight that was about to erupt.

“Ace, come on.” Sabo called out his brother. “This sad fuck isn’t worth it, let’s go find Teach.” He literally needed to drag Ace out as the uncle continued to pour oil into the fire.

“Mention my mother’s name one more time and I will kill you.” Ace screamed after him only to be met with another round of brazenly laughter. Taking him into one of the alleys near by Sabo tired to calm his brother. “Let me go Sabo, I will kill this pig and his nephew as well.” Ace tried to fight his brother’s strong hold, but the blonde boy held him in one place with all his power.

“Ace, I understand your rage, but this sad low life isn’t worth it, now let’s go back to search for Teach, just calm down.” Sabo tried to reason him for a thousand time today.

Buring his fingers in his dark locks, Ace pulled his hair by the roots and screamed with frustration.

“Fine, fine.” He yelled in Sabo’s face. “Let me go before I lose it completely.” Sabo took a step back, while Ace tried to calm himself a bit. “I’m sure he is there.” Ace said after a few deep breaths.

“Should we wait a bit here?” Sabo had a similar feeling to Ace’s, the uncle had to knew at least that his nephew was hiding from them. Ace just nodded in response.

A few hours passed by and the sun started to settle, the twilight has taken over the sky and if it wasn’t for what had happened earlier today, maybe it would have caught the brothers’ attention and they would have admired it, but not today. Sabo had received a message from his friend Koala that she has taken care of Luffy and that the wound was stitched, and their little brother would be okay. Hearing the news about it, Ace only nodded not moving his eyes from the garage. He was a hundred percent sure that Teach was there hiding and won’t leave until it was dark.

And he wasn’t wrong. Soon Teach’s uncle left with his friends, but he didn’t close the garage, everything inside was still lit on and the door wasn’t closed. Which meant only one thing – there was someone inside.

“Let’s check out who is left in the garage.” Ace said to his brother and they both quietly and cautiously made their way to it.

Walking inside they started to look around carefully. They reached the end of it when they heard some bucket falling at the entrance. Turning their heads towards the direction where the sound came from, they saw the person who they were looking for trying to escape.

“Oh, you are dead.” Ace murmured to himself and started running after Teach, closely followed by his brother.

Both boys were in advantage catching up Teach as his clumsy and fat body couldn’t outrun the two brothers. Caging him in the same alley they waited until now, Teach had nowhere to run as it was a dead end one.

“Care to explain why my little brother came with a stab wound under his eye today?” With slow steady steps Ace was getting closer and closer to Teach’s trembling from fear body. He was aware that today he fucked up a lot by stabbing the kid, but it was an accident, he just wanted to scare him off, but the brat moved while he had him on a chokehold and in his attempted to calm him down, he accidently pressed the knife in his face too hard. He shouldn’t have even held up a knife to a twelve years old but he did it for the jokes of it and now he is about to pay the price for it.

“Now, now Ace it was just for the joke of it.” He said with a chuckle which only fuelled Ace’s anger.

“For the joke? You could have killed him!” Sabo yelled at him as he got face to face with him and grabbed him by his white shirt collar. “You fucking pig.” He screamed in his face and punched it.

Ace was fast to get in between his brother and Teach as he didn’t want him to get in trouble and this was something that was between him and the low life who was now on the ground.

“Let me punch him one more time Ace.” It was funny and strange who fast their rolls change as now it was Ace who tried to calm Sabo not the other way around.

“Fuck you, Sabo.” Teach spatted as he tried to stand up, but he has no luck as Ace was fast to kick him in the face. Blood started to run from Teach’s mouth as Ace’s foot collied with his chin. Without wasting time, the two brothers jumped on him. They knew that it wasn’t a fair fight, two against one, but Teach wasn’t playing fair as well earlier as he pulled a knife on a child and now he was going to pay.

Sabo was the first one to pull away, while Ace was lost, he couldn’t see or hear anything, all he could think about was his little brother’s face covered in blood, and for what – for a joke? Well, here was the joke now, the biggest joke of them all laying under him almost unconscious. Coming to his senses Sabo tried to pull Ace away.

“Ace. Ace, come on this is enough.” He yelled at his brother as he tried to pull him away. Teach’s whole face was covered in blood and swollen from the brothers’ fists as he was choking on his own blood. With all his power Sabo pulled Ace away from Teach’s body but the moment Ace was back on his feet he decided to do one more thing before they leave. With all his power Ace stepped on Teach’s right knee which cause it to break. An agonizing scream left Teach’s mouth as his whole body twitched from pain. Sabo’s eyes widen from the scene in front of him. “What the fuck Ace?” Sabo screamed at his brother as he jerked Ace by the hand to look at him. “Ace what the fuck man? You know how much trouble we will get in for this now?” But Sabo’s screams were worthless as his brother didn’t care and as of right now, he couldn’t think straight.

Without saying anything Ace just pulled his arm away from Sabo’s and started walking away. Not knowing what to do and now scared for Teach’s life, Sabo called an ambulance for him, only giving Teach’s location and lying that he found him on the street by chance. After he made sure that the asshole was going to get help and not die, he ran after Ace.

“Ace you idiot. Now we are going to be in a big trouble.” Sabo pushed his brother on the back once he caught up with him, making Ace almost trip. Turning to him Ace pushed Sabo back.

“I will get in trouble, okay. You will be fine.” Ace said as he turned once again and continued making his way home.

“Did you really need to go that far?” Sabo asked, his heartbeat increased as he tried to calm himself down, but it was pointless, they were going to be sent to juvenilefor this.

“Luffy is going to have a scar on his face for the rest of his life, it was only fair for me to give this fat fuck one as well.” Ace responded calmly as in his mind this was a fair exchange.

“Ace we can get sued for this or worst send to juvenile.”

“I can get sued or sent to juvenile not you, so calm the fuck down before I smash your face, too.” Ace’s tone was stern and warning, he would take all the blame for it if Teach decided to speak to the police. “Also, we don’t know if he will speak to the police.” He shrugged.

“He will, Ace. He will and then we will be in trouble.”

“For fuck’s sake, how many times I need to say that I’ll take the blame and you and your perfect record will be fine.” Ace turned around and screamed in Sabo’s face.

“That is the problem, why you should take all the blame?” Sabo screamed back.

“Because I’m the shitty one of all of us three, okay? So, if one of us must go down it would be me, not you, not Luffy – it will be me.” Ace was screaming on top of his lungs with anger and frustration as this was something his brother would never get. Ace was the cursed one, not they. His whole face has gotten redden from all the screaming and frustration build up in him and Sabo was only adding more fuel to it.

“Why Ace? Why?” Sabo’s voice broke mid sentence. It has always pained him how his brother viewed himself as some monster as some low life who didn’t deserve to be alive in a first place let alone to deserve good things in life. “Why it has to be always you taking the blame for us?” He didn’t receive any answer to his question.

“Let’s just go home.” Was all that Ace said.

Entering the house and stepping into the hallway they heard voices filling up the living room and Luffy’s voice calling their names. Looking down on their bloody knuckles both guys made their way upstairs to clean their hands. It took some time for the blood to wash away but it did eventually. Sabo was the first one to go downstairs while Ace closed the door behind him and locked himself in the bathroom. He set his palms down on the sink with his head hanged low. There was still some blood from earlier on the floor and all of this for what... a joke?

The realisation of what had happened today and what Ace has done hit him like a truck. Taking deep breaths and trying to calm himself down he started to curse under his breath. He was going to be in serious trouble, one where he wasn’t sure how he would be able to come out of.

“Good for nothing as aways.” He murmured to himself before he left the bathroom.

Walking into the living room Ace was faced with everyone – Dogara and Magra sitting together on one of the old armchairs they had which was quite big and on the couch were siting Dadan, Luffy and Koala, Sabo’s best friend and big crush, which he hasn’t confessed yet. Seeing Ace, Luffy jumped from the couch and ran to him, locking his arms around him in a hug.

“Are you better now, Lu?” Ace softly asked his brother as he ruffled his hair. Looking at Sabo and then to Dadan, Ace could tell that she already knew what they have done, and his gut was telling him that she didn’t know from Sabo, she knew from somewhere else. Getting up from the couch Dadan nodded with her head for him and Sabo to follow her in the kitchen to speak in private. Pulling away from Luffy, Ace promised him that he would be back in a second but first he must speak with their foster mother for a second, so he sent his little brother back to Koala on the couch.

Walking into the kitchen where Dadan and Sabo were already, Ace stood next to his blonde brother. Dadan’s eyes were in a tin line as she had crossed her arms across her chest, in her eyes could be read a lot of emotions – from anger, to sadness, to disappointment.

“You two realise what you have done, right?” She finally spoke up. “Why didn’t you call me immediately or the police?” None of the boys said anything at first. “Answer me!” She screamed at them.

“Because what he did needed to be revenged.” Ace hissed at her, his eyes filled with anger once again. “And don’t scream at Sabo, it was all my fa-” What happened next has never happened before in this house. Dadan was many things, but she has never raised her hand to her children, until today. The smack across Ace’s cheek echoed in the kitchen as his head even turned to the side from the impact of her hand.

“You foolish boy. You never listen, you never think before you do something.” Her voice was filled with anger and pain. Her eyes, something that none of the brothers have seen before were filled with tears. “You really are your father’s son. Aways searching for fights and problems, you took nothing from her, nothing. My sister died for nothing. You killed her for nothing.” These words cut like a knife Ace’s heart. Looking up at Dadan and meeting her eyes, same colour as his mother’s made him swallow hard the words he heard and the pain they caused him. “You wanna know how your mother died exactly? She died screaming and begging the doctors to save you over her and till this day I swear that was her biggest mistake.” Tears stared to run down on her tired face as she spoke the words with bitterness and pain over the memory of her dead sister. Ace took a step back as he realised how much he had messed up today and how much this would affect their so-called family.

“Dadan, stop talking to him like this!” Sabo couldn’t stand and listen to such nonsense. He could see that their foster mother was pissed, and she was right that they had fucked up badly, but Ace didn’t deserve this treatment, after all it wasn’t only him who fucked up.

“Shut up Sabo!” She screamed without even looking at him. “Having that piece of shit’s uncle calling me and telling me that we will be sued for money we don’t have because you two decided to beat the shit out of his nephew was my final straw with you, and especially you Ace.” She pointed her finger at him, her whole hand trembling from the frustration. “Why couldn’t you call the police? It was going to be his nephew to be taken away not mine good for nothing one. But no, you had to play it bad boy don’t you, brat?” She yelled once again in his face, but Ace didn’t say a word.

His eyes were fixed on the floor, mind clouded with thoughts. ‘She died for nothing. You killed her for nothing.’ The words were on repeat like a broken tape recorder. He didn’t kill his mom, he would never. He didn’t even ask to be born, why it was his fault that two people sixteen years ago decided to make a child together and it just happened to be him.

“Look at me and listen carefully when I’m talking to you, Ace!” Dadan grabbed his shoulders and shook him. With a clenched jaw and redden eyes Ace locked his focus on hers. “The moment the police come, you will go out now and turn yourself in and you won’t mentioned that Sabo was there with you, am I clear?” She took a step closer to him and Ace only nodded. Hearing this Sabo tried to fight Dadan over it, but she called for Dogora and Magra to take Sabo away as she wanted to be left alone with only Ace. Sabo’s attempts to fight Magra, who was extremely strong, were pointless as he easily lifted the boy and took him upstairs, locking him in his room. Once they were left alone Dadan turned to Ace again. “Why Ace? Tell me, why are you the way you are?” Instead of answering Ace just asked her a very simple question.

“Why you hate me so much?” His voice was quiet. Ace was tired. He was tired of screaming, tired of fighting. He just wanted to know, why the only blood related person he knew and had in his life hated him so much.

“I don’t hate you Ace.” Dadan took a step back as she turned around walking to the dining table and pulling one of the chairs to sit on it. She placed her elbow on the table and started massaging her temple with her fingers. “I don’t hate you, but you are so hard to love. I pity the woman who will end up with you one day. Poor girl, with a man like you she will probably end up the same way my sister did, six feet under the ground.” She looked at the boy standing in front of her in the middle of the kitchen and her heart broke. She knew she has failed to raise him properly and mostly it was her fault, but blood couldn’t turn into water – at the end of the day he had one of the most wanted criminals’ blood running in his veins, the kid was doomed from the start. Looking at Ace all she could see was Roger, even if he has taken after his mother’s beauty and freckle skin, there was only range and madness in his soul, something that Rouge never possessed, this was all Roger or she wanted to believe that it was all him as she never really got to meet or know him. Her sister aways kept her away from her personal life, but still Dadan loved her regardless. “If you ever fall in love Ace, make sure she doesn’t fall in love with you, too. Try to push her away or something, as much as it pains me to say this... your father’s blood line must end up with you. Whoever ends up with you will suffer.”

Since that night these words never left his mind, they were tattooed, engraved in his brain. What Dadan has said to him was cruel and she regrated it the moment she saw her nephew being taken away by the police. This child who has full of love and life, and she could see it that he had so much of it in himself but never learned how to express it because Dadan herself never showed him how to, would now forever lock himself from the outside world. Because of that night and those words Ace sat his mind on one thing – he would never fall in love and if he did, he would do anything in his power to make the girl who would steal his heart hate him, hate him so much that she would never want to be near him or even hear his name would make her feel disgust. Maybe after all he was meant to be lonely in this world. Because who would love a cursed boy like him?

Seeing (Y/N) jumping out of the car the moment he stopped it in front of her building made his heart ache. He didn’t want to hurt her, let alone make her cry. It took him all his willpower to not run after her and just wrap her in his arms and kiss her. But he couldn’t do this. The moment she put her hand on the back of his neck and ran her fingers in his messy locks while Big Jet Plaine was playing on the background felt like he was hit with thousands of kilowatts of electricity. It was like the Earth stopped spinning and that he was levitating for a moment – all of this by a simple touch by her. And because of it the words which his aunt has told him almost ten years ago echoed in his mind “Whoever ends up with you will suffer and end up like you mom, six feet under.” Ace didn’t want her to suffer because of him, but he couldn’t bring himself to explain to her why they were better of like friends, even if this was becoming such a cliche.

Speeding through the empty streets at this late hour of the night it didn’t take him long to get back to his place. Ace was mad. Mad at himself and the world, but not at (Y/N). Walking to his apartment and locking the door behind himself he threw the keys on the side not even paying attention that they dropped on the floor. Kicking his shoes on the side he made his way to the living room and sat down on the couch. Inhaling and exhaling deep he laid down and looked at the ceiling. His mind was running wild once again. He messed up big time with her this tonight like never before. He made her cry which pained him the most of it all.

“Fuck.” He cursed under his nose as he ran his hands through his hair and pulled it. “How you’re fixing this now deep shit?” Hitting his jawline with his fist Ace cursed once again. He wasn’t sure if he should even try to fix it. She has a date tomorrow, maybe it was for the best that tonight turned out this way.

After all what could Ace offer her? Love? He has never experienced it himself, he didn’t even grow up loved so how could he love another person if he was never taught how it worked. But this wasn’t love, this has to be just lust and nothing else. He couldn’t be in love with her, she couldn’t be in love with him. It has to be a mutual lust, he was aware of how much she wanted to be kissed by him tonight and not only tonight, but he couldn’t allow this. There was this part of him that was afraid that if he crossed this line with her there wouldn’t be a turning back from then on. Trying to gather his thoughts he got up and went to his desk. Before he sat down, he opened one of the big windows in the room to get some cold air in, hoping that it would make him cool off a bit. Pulling his pack of cigarettes out he lit up one and dragged a long smoke from it.

It was like she had engraved herself in his mind as of recently she was always in his thoughts. And it was always the small details about her – they way she would scrunch her nose before she disagrees with something, the way she bit on her lower lip all the time or when she played with her fingers every time, she was nervous. The way that she was always shy the first few minutes when he was around her, only to relax after a few and act like they have been knowing each other for a lifetime when in fact it has been what – three, almost four months now. But the thing that was amusing him the most was the fact that she happened to understand and get him all the time, sometimes even without words, it was like she could see past his bullshits but chose to ignore it instead. But why? Did she feel something more than lust towards him?

This thought made Ace’s blood run cold. She couldn’t. She shouldn’t. She could do so much better than him, after all he was good for nothing, and she... she was everything. She had this uniqueness, this mixture of a pure heart and beautiful mind, there was something way to innocent about her that Ace was afraid if he touched it, he might destroy it. That was why he was calling her – doll, because she was perfect in any sense – perfectly craft from the outside and so beautiful from the inside. There was even a moment where Ace was afraid of developing some Madonna Whore complex for her, but with the unholy thoughts he had in mind and all of them involving her, this fear was out of the window as fast as it came.

Finishing his cigarette and putting it out in the ashtray he had on the desk, he knew that he needed something stronger than cigarettes right now. Going into the kitchen and opening one of the top drawers he picked a bottle of whiskey which was half empty. He usually didn’t have hard alcohol at home, but this one was from the last time when Luffy and Zoro had come over to play games and drink booze. Grabbing the bottle he didn’t bother with taking a glass and drank straight from it. Going back to the living room and taking a sit on the chair in front of his desk he put the bottle to the side.

He needed to cool off, to distract himself but even now, with a pen in hand and a note in front of him all he could think about was her. His eyes were reddened, but not from sadness, it was because of fatigue and despair. Massaging his temple with the tips of his finger, he reached with his left hand for the bottle again. The bitter taste of the alcohol burning down his throat, but he didn’t mind it. Putting it down, he started writing on the note.

I've been callin' you "friend," I might need to give it up

He really needed to give it up. He must give up on whatever it was between him and her before its too late. The ache in his heart came back and his whole face grimaced with pain.

“Fool... how could you let yourself fall...” He whispered to himself as he buried his head on his forearms, his body hunched over the desk. Ace didn’t want to fall in love. No, he mustn’t fall in love. ‘If you ever fall in love Ace, make sure she doesn’t fall in love with you, too.’ These words by his aunt had become very vivid in his memory in the past few weeks, and especially now.

Now I need your help with everything that I do I don't want to lie, I've been relying on you

He couldn’t allow himself to tell her how he felt, but he could always write her a song, or two, or hundred. Ace didn’t want to admit it to himself until now, but she had become his muse, his medicine in a way, but that was where he would draw the line.

Waking up today felt like the hardest task someone could possibly make me done. I was exhausted. From the moment I left the car till probably three or four in the morning I couldn’t stop crying. Lifting my head from the pillow, I sighed when I saw that the whole pillowcase was stained with makeup.

“I doubt this will come off.” I whispered to myself.

Reaching for my phone on the nightstand to see what time it was I saw I had some messages. None of them were from him. They were all from Dave and one from Shanks. I didn’t even manage to unlock my phone when it died as I didn’t put it to charge last night. Sitting up in the bed I looked for my charger and when I saw it, I plugged the phone and let it charge.

My whole body felt tired, no I felt tired, even thought I slept for almost ten hours. Getting up from the bed I slowly made my way to the bathroom. Seeing the state of my face in the reflection of the mirror wasn’t a big surprise for me – puffy eyes and face covered in smudged makeup and hair all over the place. A tired sighed once again left my lips. Taking off whatever was left of the makeup, brushing my teeth and cleaning my face didn’t took away the puffiness and so I decided to take a quick shower.

Stripping down from the clothes I still had on from last night I got into the shower. My body was trembling, and I wasn’t sure if it was because I was an emotional mess or because today was surprisingly cold in my apartment. Adjusting the water and making it almost boiling hot I tried to relax my body. Closing my eyes and letting the water run down my body I wrapped my arms around myself. Everything from last night played vividly in my mind, from the moment he picked me up to the moment he dropped me off. I bit on my lips as I felt a new wave of tears falling from my closed eyes as I tried to stop the sob which was threatening to leave my lips. Why was he doing this to me? Was this some kind of a sick mind play? One second, he was all nice and carrying, and the next he switched to a cold uncaring person, and it was like this every time, and I had enough of this. Opening my eyes I took a deep breath in and decided to focus on something else and try my best to think of everything else but him.

Getting out of the shower and changing into more comfortable clothes I laid in my bed again. Seeing that my phone had charged a bit I unplugged it and checked all the messages I had. The one from Shanks was him asking me if I want to take some shifts at the beginning of the year to which I responded with yes and it also hit me that New Years is in two days. Then I moved to the messages from Dave. The last one of the many he had sent was ‘If you don’t want to go let me know :)’.

I felt so bad. Dave was such a nice person, especially to me, and he didn’t deserve such behaviour from me, for which I typed a quick message: ‘Sorry for the late response, I wasn’t feeling good yesterday, so I felt asleep super early and just woke up. Ofc, we are up for it. Send me the address and what time I should be there ^^’. Even though I wanted to spend the whole day buried in my bed away from everyone and everything, I had made a promise and I was going to keep it.

He responded almost immediately, and we agreed on meeting at six pm as the screening starts at seven. I couldn’t stop myself but thinking of last night and what certain someone told me – ‘Go on the date. Give the guy a chance.’ and maybe I should do this, but this wouldn’t be fair for Dave. Unlike the person who had engraved himself in my mind and hear, I could not lead someone on, not someone who I actually consider a friend and mostly someone I cared for.

Dave greeted me with a hug as aways and I tried my best to fake my smile, not because I didn’t want to see him, but because my mind was elsewhere. Seeing Dave didn’t bring any type of excitement in me even thought I wish it did. He was a very good-looking guy, and he was so nice on top of it, he was the full package, but the spark wasn’t there. But as the guy who had not just caused a spark in my heart but had caused fires in it said – give the guy a chance, so I was determined that tonight I would try to look at Dave in a different light, even if it would be the hardest thing to do due to the fact that certain someone shattered my heart not even twenty-four hours ago, despite this I would try.

“How have you been? You look tired.” Dave said as we pulled away from the hug.

“Oh, yes. I’m just pretty tired, I’m helping my uncle with his bar and yes long shift.” I took a deep breath in and then out as I chuckled. “How are you? Haven’t seen you in a long time.”

“Good, spending most of my time with family and friends.” He replied with a big smile on his face. “Um, should we get inside? We can grab something to drink before the movie starts.” He pointed with his thumb towards the cinema entrance, and I nodded. Lifting his arm slightly to me I got the hint and wrapped mine with his and we made our way inside.

We grabbed some drinks and snacks as and sat in the cinema bar chitchatting about everything and anything. It was very easy to be relaxed and calm around Dave, he was a pure sunshine, but he had to call me out all the time because I just kept zooming out.

“Dave, I’m so sorry, I promise you I listen.” I apologetically smiled at him.

“It’s okay, it’s not like I can be mad at you.” He said and his fingers gently brushed mine. But there was nothing - no sparkle, no electricity, no excitement.

“Of course you can.” I protested. “I have been a very bad friend to you in the past few weeks and yet you are always so nice to me.” I meant every word that I said and knowing that he had feelings, and I didn’t was killing me from the inside. I couldn’t fake something that wasn’t there in a first place. I couldn’t fake a feeling.

“Um, yes actually there is something I want to speak with you about or well more like something I have to tell you.” He gave me one of his charming smiles as his tawney skin got a slightly heated. Running a hand through his curls he was struggling with finding the right words. Panic took over me as I knew what was coming and I wasn’t ready for it and because of it I interrupted him.

“My God, look at the time, we should go. I love watching the trailers before the movie starts.” I jumped from the chair and grabbed the popcorns Dave bought. He was a little surprised by my sudden outburst but laughed it off and followed me with the rest of the things. I had three hours to gather my mind and find the best way to tell Dave that out feelings weren’t mutual, and I was praying to whatever power was out there that he was just having crush on me which hasn’t developed into something more and deep, because I didn’t want to shatter his heart the same way mine was.

“Sh, it’s okay.” Dave had his arms wrapped around me as we were still siting in our seats ten minutes after the movie finished as I was crying my eyes out. I was always a crying mess after watching ‘Interstellar’ but today was probably the hardest I have cried on this movie, but it was clear to me that the reason to cry this much wasn’t only the film. Lifting my head from his chest he cupped my face and wiped my tears away. “Come on let’s get going before they kick us out.” He laughed and I agreed with him.

It was dark and even colder outside than when we came. Dave was holding me close to him as he noticed how I was trembling from the cold.

“Please, you declined my offer to pick you up at least let me drive you back home.”

“Are you sure? You live five minutes away and I live like thirty.” I didn’t want him to waste him time with dropping me off and then getting back home. “I can get the metro.”

“No, please (Y/N), I insist.” He squeezed my shoulders like he was silently begging me to let him drive me home.

“You won’t take ‘no’ as an answer, will you?” I chuckled and he shook his head, making us both laughed in unison. Playfully rolling my eyes I nodded with my head and made him lead the way to his car.

On the way to my place, we were talking for the movie mostly but then we switched to more personal subjects like I never knew that he had a little sister and a big brother, for which I joked with him that as a middle child it did explain why he took on becoming a filmmaker and we laughed about it. Then I told him a bit about my family, and this made me realise that until now, all we have ever talked about was movies or school things which were again related to films and filmmaking. We never got to know each other on a personal level until now. Which made me sad in a way that maybe if I have had the opportunity to get to know him before I met a certain dark raven-haired man, maybe just then these feelings Dave had for me would have been mutual.

“Dave.” I said his name and took a deep breath. He was stopping the car in front of my building, and I wanted to speak up first, because in my mind it was better if I tell him that I see him as a friend only before he tells me whatever he has in mind.

“Please, before you say anything I need to tell you something.” He took my hand in his and ran his thumb over my knuckles.

“Dave, no.” I pulled my hand back and cursed myself as I knew what was coming. “Look, I... I didn’t know that you view this as a date until... until last night honestly.” I was struggling to find the right words after I saw how his whole face and mood changed. “And I didn’t want to believe what I have been told that you have crush on me, and I do hope that it’s only a crush because I swear Dave you are the last person I want to hurt.” My voice cracked at the end from seeing the way sadness took over his features. “I... I just don’t see you in this way Dave and I’m so, so sorry. If I leaded you on somehow, I’m... I’m sorry Dave, but it wasn’t on purpose, I swear.” Tears started falling from my face again. I wasn’t sure if it was because of how guilty I was feeling to not share the same feelings as his or because I knew how much it hurt to be rejected by someone you like.

Dave took a deep breath in and turned to look at me. He gave me a small smile that didn’t reach the corner of his eyes at all. Then he reached with his hand and wiped away my tears.

“I understand.” He quietly said as he took away his hand from my cheek. “It’s partly my fault, I could see it that your mind was, and I suppose is still somewhere else and... well...” He clicked with his tongue as the bitterness of the rejection was filling his heart and mind. Silence took over as neither of use dared to say something or move. “With risk to overstep my boundaries with you... is there something I could do to change your mind?”

I tilted my head on the side a bit confused by his question, but before I could response he reached with his hand once again and pulled my head closer to him. His lips gently crashed on mine... but there was nothing - no sparkle, no electricity, no excitement. My skin didn’t get any goosebumps, my heart wasn’t set on fire, my mind was somewhere else... my mind was on somebody else. I tried to return the kiss, but it was pointless, and Dave felt it too. Breaking the kiss, he just gently caressed my cheek and then let go of it.

“You didn’t feel anything, did you?” His voice was quiet, and I could sense the pain behind it.

“I’m sorry, Dave.” I whispered.

“And so am I.” He whispered back and then cleared his throat. “But hey, cheer up. I still want to be your friend, and I will be if you want me to.” He gave me a sincere smile one that reached the corner of his eyes as usual.

“Oh, Dave.” I said as I wrapped my arms around him in a very tight hug. “I want to and I love having you around, but I know how much it would hurt you and I don’t want this for you.” My head was buried in the crook of his neck. “I don’t want to see you hurt.”

The past two days have exhausted me so much emotionally – first Ace, then Dave. It was like my life has turned into some soap opera, the kind of series I hated the most and on top of it I was the main character. At the same time there was something ironic and comedic in the whole situation – while I was rejected by a certain someone in a very unspoken way, I kind of did the same thing to somebody else, for which I guess was my own karma.

Since I woke up in the morning today my head was killing me as I haven’t stopped crying. Everything in the past two days was too much for me to take. The worst part was that I was left in the dark. Since last night so many questions have arisen in me – did Ace really didn’t feel anything for me? Did he only saw me as a friend? And if he did – why the pet names? Why the small gestures? Why have we had so many intimate moments which all of them almost ended with a kiss? I might be very bad with getting hints, but I doubt that ‘regular’ friends or even ‘best’ friends have had such shared moments.

The questions were too many and yet the answers couldn’t be found. I was mad at him. I was hurt by him. I wanted to confront him so bad, yet knowing myself, I knew that I would crack the moment I face his deep brown eyes that I have fallen in love with. I knew that the moment I see him again and he calls me doll or whatever he comes up with, no matter how much pain and distress he has caused me I would be willing to forgive him. Which led me in this situation in a first place. He had turned himself into a soft spot for me which led to all of this happening, because he knew, he was fully aware that I was ready to forgive him easily the moment he sweettalked me again. But not this time.

“Fuck.” I cursed. This wasn’t the first time I have had promised myself this, I was like a broken record, repeating the same thing and then do the exact same thing over and over again. I was like a broken record. “Fucking Ace.” I cried into my pillow.

As I was lost in thoughts my phone vibrates, indicating that I have received a message. I grabbed the phone and saw that it was a message from Luffy - ‘Wanna go for a walk later?’. That took me by surprise. I haven’t seen him since the beginning of the month when we went to the club together. But it didn’t matter, I wasn’t in a mood to go out today at all. I needed a day by myself – isolated from anyone and anything. I quickly responded to him that I wasn’t feeling very well so we should leave it for some other day, but he wasn’t having it. He started spamming me with messages until I agreed, but I told him that it would be after seven pm as I didn’t want to go out now while it was still some sunlight outside. ‘YES, see u around 8pm then – I’ll wait for u outside ur place :D’ was the last message he sent me.

It was almost eight pm when I got up from bed and dressed myself in some leggings and a hoodie, I didn’t bother putting a makeup or fixing my hair, even though I looked like a mess with puffy eyes and dark cercles under them, after all we were going to just take a walk in the park near by. I put my jacket and boots on and went out as I received a message from Luffy that he was downstairs.

“Wow, you look like shit.” Was the first thing he said to me when he saw me exciting the building. “No, sorry (Y/N), I meant it like – are you okay?” He came closer to me and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me in a tight hug. I swallowed hard before I replied that I was fine.

“Come on you blew my phone off to go for a walk, let’s get going.” I tried to fake a smile when we pulled apart.

We slowly made our way to the park. Luffy was babbling for anything and everything and I tried to focus on the conversation, but it was very hard. My mind was nowhere and everywhere at the same time. I wanted to be present here and now, but it was an impossible task.

The park was almost empty as it was quite chill outside, the only passing by people were the one who had their dogs out for a walk or the one who were doing their evening jogging. Despite that it was dark already and something in the night air felt super heavy. I wasn’t sure if it was from the headache I had from all the crying in the past few days, but it felt like I had a bad lucid dream. Everything was like in a slow mode and my mind was just not present.

“(Y/N), hey (Y/N).” Luffy waved with his hand in front of my face. I shook my head as I realised, he had been calling my name and looked at him.

“I’m sorry Luffy. What were you saying?”

“Wanna sit for a moment. You don’t look good, have you eaten today?” He nodded with his head towards one of the benches in the park and wrapped his arm around my shoulder leading me there to sit.

“Yes, I did.” I lied. “I’m fine Luffy, just tired that is all.” I gave him a small sincere smile as we sat down on the bench. Luffy took a deep breath in and exhaled as he propped his elbows on his legs and looked at me from over his shoulder.

“You are not fine, you don’t need to lie to me.” He looked me in the eyes and shook his head. “And I’m sure this has something to do with my brother.”

“Wha-... why are you... like no, it has nothing to do with your brother.” I tried to brush it off, but Luffy just clicked with his tongue.

“I might be not as bright or smart like them and I know that I’m usually super goofy and even childish at times, but I’m not stupid, (Y/N).” He winked at me as he straitened his posture and chuckled. “Ace made me check up on you.” My eyes shoot wide open when he said this.

“What?” I wasn’t sure that I heard him right.

“Ace texted me today to check up on you but didn’t give me any explanation why for but judging by the state you are right now...” Luffy took a deep breath before continuing. “Look, I know that something is obviously going on between you two and knowing my brother... he is fucking it up big time.” He took my cold hand in his and gave it a squeeze. “But he does care about you a lot, otherwise he wouldn’t have made me check up on you.” Hearing this I couldn’t help but laughed out loud.

“If he cared so much about me, he would have come himself not sent you.” I could feel the tears treating to fall from my eyes again.

“I guess you are right, but Ace... well, Ace is Ace, and he does care believe it or not, but I know my brother and h-” I didn’t let Luffy finish his sentence as I interrupted.

“Luffy.” I took a deep breath before I continue because I was on the verge of a break down. “You know your brother as your brother and not as... as... God I can’t even find the words to describe what your brother is to me.” I pulled my hand from Luffy’s and buried my fingers in my hair pulling it a bit as I was losing my mind.

“(Y/N) please calm down.” Luffy’s deep brown eyes so similar to the ones I fell in love with and filled up with worry. “God, I shouldn’t have told you this at all. Ace is going to kill me.”

“Oh, so I wasn’t supposed to know that he sent you?” I snorted out a bitter laugher. This whole situation was getting ridiculous. Before Luffy had the chance to answer I got up from the bench and started walking fast towards the metro station. Luffy immediately got up and followed me, calling me to stop.

“Please (Y/N) wait.” Luffy caught up to me and made me stop by grabbing my arm. “Calm down first and where are you going? Your place is in the other direction.” He gave me a confused look.

“To your brother’s place.” I replied and jerked my arm from his as I started walking fast again.

“You don’t even know if he is home or not.” Luffy screamed after me which made me turned around and look at him.

“Is you brother home Luffy?” My patience was wearing thin.

“I actually don’t know.” He wasn’t lying I could see that he didn’t.

“Well then I plan to find this out.”

I'm sick, and I'm tired too I can admit, I am not fireproof

Ace was hunched over his desk with his head propped on his palms. The headache he has had in the past two day was killing him, but he didn’t plan to do anything to fix it. The floor around him was covered with crumpled or torn apart paper. He couldn’t get her out of his mind, not like she has left it ever since they cross paths for a first time but in the two past days it was different.

Fallin' again I need a pick-me-up

His last two days were like hell – all he did was stay at home and smoke away his brain. His bandmates had blown his phone with messages and calls, but he only bothered to text Deuce back and let him know that he wasn’t going to rehearse with them this week. Which caused another wave of messages from mostly his brother Sabo, but Ace just ignored him. Still, he had opened the message app so many times as he has typed so many messages to only one person, just to delete them before pressing send. Ace knew that he fucked up badly with her and he was torn apart between trying to fix things or just let it be. His mind was telling him to just let go and not bother her ever again, but his heart... his heart wanted nothing else but her.

Guilty was eating him alive. What was he thinking when he took her out? Why did he take her out in a first place? Even though he didn’t want to admit it to himself, Ace did it because he was jealous. Hearing that this guy, David or Dave whatever his name was, was planning to take her out and confess his feelings for her struck a never in him, that was why he acted spontaneously the moment he saw his friend Yamato’s story on Instagram. Which now he realised it was a big mistake. He shouldn’t have done this. Ace didn’t think it through back then but by any means that “hang out” two nights ago was a date by all definitions. And now he was suffering and made her suffer the consequences of his jealousy and indecision. Indecision because he couldn’t let himself have her but also the thought of another guy having her was killing him. How was he supposed to let her go and move on with his life when she had him on such chokehold?

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Ace cursed loudly as he hit his jawline with his fist. Hitting himself wasn’t enough of a punishment for making her cry, for hurting her.

Earlier today he had texted his younger brother to check on her as he couldn’t bring himself to do so. He was aware that she was mad and probably hurt by him, but he wanted at least to know if she was okay and taking care of herself, but he was also curious – did she go to the date with that guy? And if she did, did she enjoy it? Did she enjoy it more than any of the times she had spent with Ace? All these questions were circulating in his mind, and he hoped that Luffy won’t fuck it up and get them out of her, but he wasn’t aware of the date so the only thing Ace would find out was if she was still sad or not.

I feel it burning me, I feel it burning you I hope I don't murder me, I hope I don't burden you

Luffy had texted him an hour ago that he was waiting for her outside her apartment building to go for a walk and apparently it took him a long time to convince her in a first place to even go out.

“You better not fuck this up Luffy.” Ace murmured as he knew how bad his brother was with keeping his mouth shut sometimes but he was his only option right now. For a first time ever in his life Ace felt like a coward. He didn’t have the courage to face (Y/N), because what was he going to tell her – “hey I’m kind of in love with you, but also can’t be with you for your own good, so we still can be friends, right?” Friend? Even he couldn’t buy this lie anymore. They were never friends to begin with, but calling each other such was the only option, which now was out of the window.

It has started to rain outside and the streets were dark and foggy. Ace was standing next to the window as he was smoking probably his fifteenth cigarette if the day. The cold air coming from outside was blazing his skin as he had only a pair of grey sweatpants hanged on his hips. The circles under his eyes were dark, even as a person with narcolepsy he had barely slept these days. He was impatiently waiting for a text from his brother to know how their walk went and most importantly how was (Y/N). Closing his eyes shut he leaned his head on his arm which was propped on the window as he took one last drag of his cigarette before he threw it out. Just as he threw the cigarette his phone buzzed, it was a message from Luffy – ‘Don’t kill me, but I fucked up…’

Swim with me I think I can see the beach I know what's underneath I need you here with me but we're out in the open

Ace was about to throw his phone angrily across the room when he heard his doorbell ring followed with a loud bang on it and froze on the spot. This better not be who he thought it might be. Another determined knock and ring followed which made him shake his head and head to the door. Opening the door he didn’t have time to react or say anything as he was met with a slap across his face. ‘I deserve this.’ He thought to himself as he could recognise the softness of these fingers without even looking at the person in front of him.

“You fucking asshole.” You yelled in his face. He was standing by the door with his head a bit to the side as you have slapped it. Slapping him across the face was something you didn’t want to do but the moment he stood up in front of you just couldn’t control yourself. He just opened the door wilder and pulled you in before closing it. Then he finally dared to look at you.

There you were. Standing in front of him, soaking wet from the rain with your hair messed up from it and eyes red and puffy. Your whole body was trembling from the cold, but also from all the emotions bubbling inside of you. You looked like a mess.

“What are you doing here, doll?” His voice was quite and very raspy as he hasn’t spoken in days, in fact he hasn’t, the only words that have left his lips was when he was cursing himself out.

“Don’t you dare calling me this ever again.” Your voice was full of rage and pain, and it hurt him to hear it like this. It was always like a sweet melody to listen to it, but now hearing you for a first time ever like this, it made his heart aches mostly because he was the reason why you were in such state. Instead of saying something Ace just turned his back at you and walked away as he couldn’t bring himself to face you. “Don’t walk away you coward.” You called after him as you followed not even bothering to take your boots off as you entered his living room.

If I meet you in the middle, maybe we could agree You make me feel little how you're looking at me

He was a coward and you had all the rights to call him such. Standing in the middle of the living room with his back facing you he couldn’t bring himself to turn around, not when you were looking at him like this. You had never looked at him with so much rage and mostly disappointment. But he deserved it.

“Look at me, Ace.” You said to him as he was just adding to your rage when he was refusing to face at you. “Stop ignoring me and look at me when I’m talking to you.” Your heart was tearing apart, even now when you were standing in front of him, you had to beg for his attention which was only adding to his disrespect towards you. You grabbed his hand trying to make him turn around only for him to yanked it away from you. “You will not make a joke out of me again.”

Feeling your fingers on the bare skin on his hand made his whole-body burn, but hearing your words was like a stab in his heart which made him turn around immediately and finally face you.

His eyes were as tired as yours. Now when he was finally facing you, you were able to take better look at him. You have never seen Ace in such state, he looked defeated and lost at the same time, there was no trace left of the usual cocky playfully and confident man you knew, this… this wasn’t the Ace you were used to see and this caught you by surprise.

If I told you that I loved you Tell me, what would you say?

“I have never ever made a joke out of you nor disrespected you, doll.” A little spark of anger crossed his eyes as he slowly said this with a very stern tone. How could you say this? How could you even think of such thing? Him disrespecting you? Making fun out if you? He would never do such thing to you, not you of all people.

“Oh, you have never done such thing?” You laughed in his face as you took a step back as you needed some space from him to breathe. “You, of all people, have done the biggest fool out of me by your actions Ace.” Your voice was raised loudly again. “Sending your brother to check up on me? Are you fucking kidding me? And, and you- ” you pointed out your finger at him. “You dared to send him, to check on me because you are so, so worried about me that you don’t fucking bother to be man enough and do it yourself?” You have never screamed at a person before, but there was aways a first time.

Ace was just standing in front of you. You were right, he wasn’t a man enough to check up on you and not only this he wasn’t a man enough to even tell you why he couldn’t. He wasn’t man enough to just say fuck it and grab you in his arms and tell you to calm down and just kiss your pain away. Maybe after all he wasn’t as grown up as he thought he was. Maybe after all he was still a lost child who had no idea how to deal with love, let alone how to show or voice it. Instead, he just stood there frozen if front of you while his mind and heart were going crazy. His heart was screaming, no it was begging him to just pour out itself to you, yet his mind was telling him that the best thing he should do was to break whatever you two had between each other and move on. But how could he do this? Which was the right thing to do?

“Say something you fucking coward.” You cried out. Tears started running down your cheeks. You couldn’t hold them anymore, it was too much and with him just standing there not saying anything, felt like someone was burning you alive.

Hearing your cry, Ace finally looked you in the eyes. It took all his willpower to not reached with his hand to wipe away the tears falling from your them. The tears that he caused. Because he knew that if he did this, he would break his act, and he couldn’t afford to do this. Swallowing hard he finally opened his mouth to speak.

“Look, doll I-”

“Don’t call me that.” You hissed at him.

“(Y/N).” He took a breath in as he ran his hands through his hair. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m fucking sorry if I made you feel this way, but do-” Ace stopped himself as he was about to call you ‘doll’ again. But that was the thing – you were his doll, because in his eyes there were no flaws in you just like porcelain dolls, which were so perfectly crafted, yet one rough touch and they might break, for which he was afraid that he would break you if he dared to bare his soul and heart for you because his hands weren’t clean and he wouldn’t dare to destroy something so perfect as you, so he must admire you from afar. “(Y/N), I’m sorry if I messed up our friendship and mostly if I made you feel this was, but I swear, I would never ever even think of doing such thing to you.”

“What friendship, Ace?” You bitterly chuckled. “Were we ever truly friends?”

He didn’t know how to respond to this question – no, he didn’t want to respond to this question, not that he didn’t know the answer to it.

“I don’t have any other ‘friend’ or should I specify a male friend that calls me ‘doll’ or even ‘baby’ from time to time. I don’t have friends who takes me out for…” You were afraid to say it out loud, but you had nothing to lose anymore tonight, you were determined - tonight was the night where all cards from your side were coming to the table. “Fuck this I’m calling it what it was, this ‘hang out’ two nights ago was a fucking date, wasn’t it?”

The moment you called it a date he looked away. It was hard enough for him when he had to admit it to himself but admitting it to you was something he wasn’t ready to do. He didn’t do dates, he didn’t go to dates until you. Actually, he haven’t done even one bit of the things he had done for you for another girl ever, but he wasn’t going to admit this to you.

“Fucking coward, you can’t even admit this.” You laughed through tears as you clicked with your tongue. “I’m done pretending, Ace.” Lifting your hands in the air and dropping them down defeatedly you took a deep breath before continuing. “I don’t want to be your friend anymore… no, I… I can’t be your friend. God, I never wanted to be your friend, but I tried to, I swear I tried but… but…” Tears were blurring your vision as you knew that from what you were about to say there was no coming back. “The only reason why I can’t be your friend is not because I don’t want to, but because I’m in love with you.”

If I told you that I hated you Would you go away?

These words cut though his heart like a knife. Usually when you hear that the person who you also happened to have feelings for shares them you were supposed to be happy, to be on cloud nine, weren’t you? But Ace wasn’t like most people, he was he and this alone was his biggest punishment. With what he said next, he knew that not only your, but his heart would break as well.

“Look, doll.” He started not daring to look at you. Ace had his eyes locked on the wall where the big sideboard with pictures. “I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong signals or made you think that there would be something more happening between us, but…” He could feel his heart breaking, he didn’t mean any of these words, but he had decided – he was going to listen to his mind and not his heart, which meant only one thing – breaking yours. “But it’s not mutual, okay?”

Tears had stopped falling from your face as you were carefully listening and observing him. His jawline was clenched and so were his fists, his whole body was tensed and you could see and clearly hear that he was struggling with his words, and most importantly… he didn’t dare to look at you while saying this.

“Then why have you done so many gestures towards me? Hell Ace, let’s not act like we haven’t almost kissed so many times.” You were going to dig deep into this. Tonight you were going to get your answers.

“Have you seen yourself, doll?” Ace chuckled sarcastically, shaking his head in disbelief as he heard your question. “I’m a guy and you are an extremely attractive girl, of course I want to fuck you, are you crazy?” He laughed out loud as he tried to hide the pain behind his words. It wasn’t like they weren’t true, but he would have never said it in such vulgar way if he didn’t try to push you away.

“You could have done it many times.” You answered with bitterness as you have never heard him speak so vulgarly with you about you, but you were honest with him. If all he ever wanted from you was a quick fuck he could have done it already and move on with his life not play friends with you.

“Could’ve, should’ve but I never did, thanks Luffy and his friends as if you haven’t been their friend I would have used you already and forget about you.” He turned away from you when he said this. He didn’t mean it and he wanted to kill himself for saying this to you. But he had to let you go.

“Use me?” You whispered in disbelief. This couldn’t be, he couldn’t have done such thing – no, the Ace that you knew wouldn’t dare to say such thing to you, he might have been an asshole, but this… this was crossing all the lines. “Is that why you were calling me doll all the time? Because you saw me as nothing more but a girl with whom you can play your twisted mind games?” You didn’t get any response as he was still facing away from you. “I don’t buy this bullshit, Ace.” Taking a few steps towards him you moved to stand in front of him and didn’t let him face you away. He was lying. He must be lying. “Say it to my face.” You were looking at him, eyes focused on his, yet for a thousand time tonight he refused to meet them.

He couldn’t bring himself to do such thing. It was hard enough to say it without looking at you, but to look at you and say such words, he could never. He just hoped that you would break up any second now and leave his place and him for good.

“I don’t believe you, Ace.” You repeated yourself. “I don’t believe that all you wanted from me was a quick fuck, especially when you had the opportunity many times.” Placing your right hand on his face you had to use a little bit of a force to make him look at you, but he finally did. You were so close to each other once again. His deep brown eyes were pierced in yours and in that moment an idea and the courage to say it out loud came to you. “Let’s make a deal, shall we?” You asked, eyes not moving from his. He didn’t reply as he was waiting for you to voice your ‘deal’. “Kiss me.” Was all you said which made him push away your hand and take a step back as he looked at you as you were out of your mind.

“What the fuck? Didn’t you just hear what I’ve told you?” He couldn’t believe that you really asked him this, off all things, everything else but this.

“Yes, I did.” You took a step closer to him again.

“Why should I kiss you? Where is the deal in this?” A puff of air left his lips in a makeshift laughter. Where were you going with this?

Rolling your shoulders back and straightening you posture you swallowed hard before you speak up again.

“It’s super simple.” You said. “You kiss me and if you feel nothing, not even the slightest but of a spark then… then I’m gone and we pretend that this has never happened… that this whole ‘friendship’ or whatever it is, was, has never happened and.. and…” You bit on your lips hard as you needed a moment before you could finish your sentence. “And we become strangers.” Saying this you looked away from him as you were afraid of what was to happen next.

Both of you stood frozen in the middle of his living room. None of you dared to move or looked at the other. Ace couldn’t bring himself to kiss you as he knew if he just tasted your lips once he wouldn’t be able to stop and he would be craving more and more of you. He licked his lower lip as he glanced at you – you looked so broken and defeated, and he was the one who had done this to you. His heart ached like never before. He had never felt such pain, but there was a first time for everything. A deep sigh left his lips as he shook his head.

“Just go home, we are done here.”

“No, Ace we are no d-”

“Yes, we are done. I don’t want you, okay. This shit is not mutual get it your pretty head.” He was grateful that you didn’t dare to look at him when he screamed at you as you had your head facing the floor. Ace didn’t want to startle nor scream at you, but he had no choice, because he could feel it in himself that if you stood a minute longer here he would break and not only kiss you but just take you in his arms and carry you to his bedroom and show you how much you mean to him.

He had never yelled or acted like this towards you which took you by surprise. It wasn’t like you weren’t aware that Ace had a dark side, but he had never showed it to you. Maybe you didn’t know him that well after all and maybe you were wrong – he might not be lying after all. Maybe he did not feel anything towards you and all you were to him was exactly a doll – something he was having fun with whenever he felt like it.

“Now fucking leave (Y/N).”

Hearing your name leaving his lips meant that he didn’t need to tell you twice. With a trembling lip and eyes full of tears once again you ran away. You opened and closed the front door of his apartment, but the loud sob that threatened to leave your lips escaped before you were able to close the door behind you. You called for the elevator and thankfully it took a few seconds to come. You couldn’t believe it. That was it. That was going to be the last time you and Ace see each other, because after tonight you couldn’t bring yourself to see him ever again. If two nights ago he shattered your heart, then tonight he just ripped it out of your chest and broke it into a million peace. Entering the elevator, you leaned on the wall of it and pressed the palm of your hand to your lips as the moment the door closed another agonised sob had left your lips.

You ran pass him without looking at him, but he did look at you and he could feel his breath leaving his lungs from the sight of your pained face. The sob that left your lips a second before you shut the front door close didn’t slip his ears. Ace could feel his own heart breaking from the pain he had caused you. This was for best. You were going to hate him now but be thankful later in life that he didn’t let you fall further. Right?

But if he was so sure that he had made the right decision then why did he found himself running down the stairs trying to make it in time to the first floor before the elevator hits it. Why did he run out of his apartment so fast and was running down the staris, skipping more than one step at times only to make sure to reach you in time. If he was so sure that he had made the right decision not even a minute ago, why was he standing in front of the elevator’s door waiting for them to open in less than a second from now?

Swim with me I think I can see the beach Just don't look underneath us I need you here with me but we're out in the open

The elevator’s door open and your breath got caught up in your lungs. What was he doing here? Didn’t he hurt you enough? Both of his hands were propped on each side of the elevator as he was trying to catch up his breath, his chest raising and falling fast with each breath while his head was hanged low. The elevator door started to close but Ace put his hand and stopped it and finally looked at you.

It was like his body was working against his will and mind, like his heart has taken control over it and he couldn’t control himself anymore. Before you could say anything as you part your lips with a questionable look written all over your face, he cut the distance between you two and you were in his arms. Pinning you against the elevator’s mirrored wall with his whole body pressed on your, he had one hand on your waist and the other one on the back of your head. You didn’t have a time to react or protest when his lips crashed into yours. At first you were frozen on the spot, shocked from this sudden turn of events, but your hands quickly found their way to his dark messy locks and you buried your fingers in them. His lips felt soft and warm on yours making you melt under his touch. The kiss was burning with passion, the way his lips had captured yours, so aggressively and desperate, yet softly and needy. With your lips parted slightly it allowed his tongue to slip inside causing a little gasp to escape them. He pulled you even closer to his body as if it was possible to get any closer than this and deepened the kiss.

He couldn’t stop. Your lips were like a drug, and he just tasted them for a first time, yet he was already addicted. All his sense everything in him screamed and begged him to pull away from you, even his lungs as they were out of air, but he couldn’t. It was so wrong, yet so right. You in his arms with your lips pressed together while your tongues were met in a burning desire of bottled-up feelings. He could taste the salty taste of your tears on your lips caused by him. You were too good for him, and he didn’t deserve you.

‘Whoever ends up with you will be cursed.’ His aunt words echoed in his mind again. This alone made him pull away and break the kiss apart. Ace opend his eyes and found you with your eyes still closed as you were left breathless with your now puffy lips. He didn’t want to let go of you. Not now, not ever. Not when he has finally done what he was dreaming of doing since that day you two had met. With one hand holding you still steady and close to him on the back of your waist like if you decide to run away, he would not let you go, he moved the one from the back of your neck to your cheek caressing it gently. The skin of your face was so soft and even in your worst state you were still flawless and breathtaking for him. He ran his thumb over your lips – tracing the shape of them and feeling the softness of them, making sure that he would remember it good as the moment you opened your eyes, he let go of you and took a step back.

“A deal is a deal.” He said as he leaned with his hands on the mirror caging you between him and the wall, but his eyes weren’t on you. Ace was looking at himself as he could speak with hatred only at himself. Swallowing hard he spoke up again. “I felt nothing, doll.” His voice was quite and raspy.

He might have not been looking at you, but you were looking at him. Why was he doing this to you? To himself? To you both? You weren’t stupid and he was obviously lying. Because his body and face didn’t match his words. He was in pain, and you could read it all over him, you didn’t need to look in his eyes to know this. But what gave away was the way he kissed you. You didn’t kiss someone with such passion, such need and desire if you didn’t feel anything for them – and Ace kissed you with all this and more. His kiss was burning with desire, not lust – desire. So why was he lying? Why was he hurting you both?

“Liar.”

END NOTE: Damn... what a roller coaster of feelings, hu? I hope you don't hate me much ♡ But this scene and this turn of events have been in my mind for a long, long time so you must understand I had to make it this way, but now as you have read about Ace's past I'm sure that you understand why he is and acts the way he does, because all he needs and wants is love, yet he is been told all his life that he isn't worthy of it... ALSO I GOT MY ELEVATOR, which I just added one sentence in chapter 5 where it says that it was out of service that first time Reader went to his place. Anyway I really do hope that despite the pain these two went through in this chapter you enjoyed reading it and as aways feel free to like, comment, reblog and message me regardless what you thought of it ♡ Thank you for reading my works once again ♡

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