#lost in thoughts all alone (musings)
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Fire Emblem Fates music goes hard in general, but this track is my personal favorite:
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#mary34's musings#fire emblem fates#honorable mention for lost in thoughts all alone conquest edition#arrangement kicks so much ass and the vocals in both language are incredible#rena strober deserves extra kudos thought for managing to deliver such beautifull vocals set to some of the clunkiest translyrics ever#wish the english version of the songs had versions that do not have the increasing garons of discomfort in them#feels like a disservice imho#Youtube
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update lyrics , or rather scene in this case for our muses with epic, now with the vengeance saga.
Spoilers tho:
Hayato: How does it feel to be helpless?! How does it feel to know pain?I watched my friends die in horror, screaming as they were slain! I heard their final moments, calling their Captain in vain..
Look what you've turned me into. Look at what we've become! All of the pain I've been through..
Haven't I suffered enough?
??: stop
Hayato: You didn't stop when I begged you...
Heihachi: Stop
Hayato: Told me to close my heart, You said the world was dark. Didn't you say that ruthlessness is mercy upon our—
Heihachi: Alright..please. After all you've done? How will you sleep at night?
Hayato: Next to my wife.
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scientific curiosity —frankenstein's monster
—summary: You created him. You patched him together from pieces of humans and beasts - lost your license to practice medicine and your PhD for that. He should not look at you and lust. But he does. | 1.8k | AO3 | monster masterlist
—warnings: monster x human, monsterfucking, handjob, implied mating cycle/heat, thigh fucking, rutting.
The creature has an affinity for music. That fact is not even near the most fascinating thing you’ve discovered about him, but it is a very pleasant one. He taps the keys of the piano with grace, despite his size. Mozart today, huh?
“Your motor skills are improving at an incredible rate,” you say more to yourself as you scribble furiously into your notebook. The creature voices a grunt of approval as he stares at the sheet music propped up in front of him. Mentally, you pat yourself on the back for selecting such a fine brain.
You cannot deny his improvement at everything, really. He’d graduated from picture books to children’s books within two days, to classical novels and medical books within a week. Getting him acclimated to his size had been a challenge at first but it has been leaps and bounds from those days. Writing, string instruments, key instruments, all of it, a truly incredible progress. There’s only a handful of things you’ve yet to ask.
“Any sexual desire?”
His fingers stumble on the keys.
You whip around, one arm slung over the back of the chair and push so the legs screech loudly against the wooden floor. There’s a grin on your face, pen in a death grip in your hand. “Care to elaborate?” You blindly reach for the notebook still on the table, eyes fixed on his large frame, at the way he hunches over, staring firmly at the sheet music.
“No.”
“Well, it is fall,” you muse, raise your elbow to lean it against the chair backrest, pen tapping against your bottom lip. “And I did have to supplement some parts for beast parts.”
“Hadn’t even noticed.” He thumps a foot against the ground. Griffin’s hind legs. Could’ve used the wings but taking too much from one body would’ve created too much suspicion.
“I really thought a vampire’s hand would, y’know react to warm blood — a mistake on my part, I’ll admit it. But,” your grin widens even further, “fascinating how a werewolf’s knot is still a knot even if you cut it off. Does the full moon affect it in any way?”
Your creation glares at you from across the room.
“What? Scientific curiosity.”
“You had your PhD and medical license revoked for…” he takes a deep breath and takes his hands from the piano keys to motion to himself, “me.” There’s a hint of something in his tone, something that borders on disgust. You file that away to discuss at a later time. “It’s why we’re out here. Hiding.”
“There are worse reasons to lose a doctorate for. And I was a scientist while creating you. So, scientist. Now, answer my question, please?”
The creature gently pulls down the key lid on the piano, stands, and wordlessly leaves the room.
He doesn’t come down for dinner.
You stare at the vacant seat on the other side of the dinner table with a frown. His plating is untouched, steam rising from the potato stew where he usually sits. There is no creaking in the house, nothing to signal he’s coming down. You eat alone and place his meal into the still-warm oven.
His door is closed. You stand there for a while, mulling over your words, trying to string together an apology. Should you wax something long together? An explanation? Run-on sentences to try to justify your innate curiosity at your creation’s physiological state? Nothing sounds right. Nothing sounds like enough.
“I’m sorry… for asking like that. I got carried away. It wasn’t proper of me. There’s um,” you clear your throat, “I left your plate in the oven. Heat it up if you get hungry. Good night.”
You stand at the door for another prolonged moment, trying to catch any sound on the other side of the door. It’s faint, barely there, but you can make out his breathing, slow and steady. At least he’s still here. But you decide not to test your luck any further tonight and retreat to your own room, leaving the door slightly ajar. It doesn’t fit into the frame quite correctly, anyway.
Maybe he’ll at least go downstairs for dinner later.
He stands in front of your door, staring at the small sliver of moonlight that pours into the dark hallway. There are too many loud thoughts in his head, racing and colliding. His skin feels ill-fitting, a heat simmering underneath it. You ask too many questions, he thinks — has thought since he left you in the study alone to hide away in his room with the blinds drawn and his cock in hand — too many questions that prod all the right places.
It’s in your nature. You were a scientist. And a doctor with an intricate web of knowledge about the human (and creature) body. He shouldn’t fault you for asking.
While you were downstairs eating dinner alone, he had his cock in hand — not a wholly new experience but a new-ish one — stroking it over the low bathroom sink. He’d tried, tried thinking of other things but nearly all of his experiences are tied to you and your presence. So he keeps coming back to you. Your pretty face, your smile, the light in your eyes when you ask him about his body, his psyche to scribble into your umpteenth notebook all about him.
Even now with his pants undone, cock hanging out, already (or still) hard, he thinks of you. He stares at you through the crack in the door, soundly asleep in your bed. The covers are tucked tightly over your body but legs exposed to the fall chill. It’s not right, he thinks, he should at least tuck you in before you get a cold.
He pushes the door open slowly. It creaks a short, aborted squeak and you shift in bed, pull the blanket tighter against yourself. The creature steps forward, carefully placed footfalls dancing around the one creaking floorboard right at the entrance, long slow strides taking him to the foot of your bed. You shuffle again, and for a moment he thinks this is it, you’re awake, but you turn onto your back, kick at the blanket with one foot.
You are… enticing like this, he finds. He thinks that’s what this feeling is. All he has to compare it to is the novels he’s read over and over and over again.
He grabs onto your ankles with his warm hand, touch featherlight, and gently, slowly, pulls you forward. The end of your nightgown catches against the sheets, drags further up the closer you get to him. He has the anatomical knowledge of the human body — he’s read every book in the house several times over no matter if fiction or an anatomy book, he’s effectively memorized all the illustrations, if not the texts themselves.
His fingers trace the expanse of your skin, gently knead into the flesh. He can name the muscles and the tendons, the nerves at the crook of your knee. He’s spent countless hours staring at the illustrations, even the more… explicit ones. He’s curious — you’ve rubbed off on him — but it’s dark. Instead, he stares at the gap between your thighs. It’s inviting, just perfect for him to slip his cock through. It jerks at the thought, precum dribbling from the tip.
You blink slowly. The room is dark, save for the moonlight filtering in through the window above your head. In front of you, right at the foot of the bed stands a tall figure, hand wrapped around your ankles, resting against his shoulder. Your brain jogs the existence of your creation before you startle involuntarily. He startles too, nearly dropping his grip on your ankles.
“Everything alright?” You ask. The fall chill bites at your thighs and oh.
“I’m sorry,” he says, pressing his body against the back of your legs. Something hot and heavy, wet presses between your thighs. The tip of his cock presses between your thighs, forward and backward. Slowly, like he’s testing the waters. You stare at it for a moment, then press your thighs together.
The creature groans and thrusts forward, hips assuming a sloppy pace. He’s tall and wide and big and that’s how you built him. The bed rocks with his thrusts, the headboard banging against the wall, scraping at the paint. His cock plunges between your things, smears precum onto your skin, slick and wet and loud. The sound of his cock plunging between your slick thighs is nearly deafening in the silent house. Your own arousal curls under your skin but you file it away to stare at him.
This… this is not what you had in mind when you first came up with this (quite possibly very stupid, very illegal, medically and scientifically (not to mention ethically) dubious) idea. It cost you your license and your reputation, sent you into exile. You don’t regret it on the worst of days but especially not right now.
His cold hand wraps nearly wholly around your thigh and you clench around his cock involuntarily. Your muscles jerk from the sudden chill. He groans and his hips stutter for a moment, stumble in their sloppy rhythm before he regains whatever shred of his composure is left and continues thrusting. The bulb at the bottom of his shaft is engorged, knocking against your clit with every thrust. You can’t even focus on that, just on the beads of precum dribbling from the tip of his cock, smearing against your thighs as he pulls nearly all the way back. When he thrusts towards you, pearly droplets fly, splatter against your wrinkled nightgown.
He pulls you into him, hips slamming against your thighs. The metal bed frame screeches at something, you can’t even react as he thrusts forward one last time. He cums with a guttural growl that reverberates in your own chest, thighs pressing against yours, hips jerking forward. Ropes of hot cum shoot from his cock, land on your torso. You reach out, wrap a hand around the enormous cock to jerk him off, prolong his orgasm, milk him for everything he has to offer. There’s a hiss from the back of his throat as you work him empty, splattering onto your stomach and chest, even your chin. It’s warm and sticky and it sinks into your cotton nightgown, clings to your skin.
His breathing is erratic once his large frame stops shaking. His chest expands and constricts against your legs, nails digging small crescents into your ankles. Your toes are cold from the forced position.
You reach down to the puddle of cum pooling on your stomach and draw a heart into it with a small giggle.
The creature looks up from his mess tentatively, brow furrowed and lips jutted into a hopeful smile.
“You’re not mad?”
“I’ll have you know I picked out every part of you according to my personal preferences.”
banners/dividers by @/cafekitsune
#monster x reader#monster x you#monster x human#monster imagine#monsterfucker#monster fucker#teratophillia#monster boyfriend#monster smut#terat0philliac#terato
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"i just wanted to tell you incase you forgot... 'i love you',, 3k words ⸺ event masterlist synopsis: the ways in which you tell sylus "i love you" and ways in which he reciprocates contains: lnds sylus x mc?reader (fem in mind but she/her is used like once or twice) ,fluff! ,kitten/sweetie used as pet names ,domestic!sylus feel ,cuddling ,playful banter ,baker sylus ,incorrect evol use but its wholesome ,sylus chases u around ,twins feature ,not much to say other than soft!sylus being in love w u / both of u being lovesick for e/o + twins shenanigans at the end (i think thats it) note: (mostly edited ,will check back later) added this track last minute but immediately knew who i wanted to write it for. first fic of the event woooo~ :x
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sylus wasn't a man of love-filled sentiments.
or at least, that's what you'd initially thought.
a man like him, the big bad leader of onychinus, someone who was above everyone else and the most sought-after criminal, wielding a steel-cold gun in one of his bloodstained hands...
someone like that didn't know love, surely.
but oh, how wrong you were.
you were the only one that knew, under all of that tough exterior, the true tenderness that lied beneath it.
and you were the sole subject to it, from the very beginning.
-
you woke unceremoniously in a bed that was not your own, surrounded in a blanket of warmth but not solely due to the comforter surrounding your plush body:
it was mainly due to the otherworldly individual beneath you, who you were using as your personal body pillow of sorts.
you stir, letting out a small groan before peeking your eyes open to catch a glimpse of the man before you.
the big, bad leader of onychinus, sleeping soundly in bed next to you, arm firmly wrapped around your waist and your head comfortably planted on his chest— your favorite makeshift pillow.
you can't help but to smile at the sight.
feeling a touch mischievous, you begin trailing your fingers, touch featherlight, up from his waist towards his chest and back down, slowly shifting to drawing mindless shapes in the expanse of exposed skin.
he doesn't react to your touches, still deep in sleep, so you change your tactic.
you drag a single index finger up, up, up past his slender waist, then his slowly rising and falling chest, his pretty neck then up towards his sharp jawline to poke at his cheek.
he grunts in his sleep, but nothing more.
you let out a huff, lifting your head up and staring at the serene expression on his face— even lost in the land of dreams, you couldn't help but to admire every feature of his visage.
a couple of minutes pass by just like this until you decide you're feeling a little bored again.
so you repeat your earlier action, dragging your finger up slowly, slowly, just about to poke his cheek again—
when your wrist is swiftly caught by a warm hand before you reach it.
"it seems my dream of a kitten mistaking me for a toy wasn't a dream after all."
sylus' crimson eyes crack open to look directly into your bright (albeit still slightly-sleepy) ones, heart full at the little playful smile you're sporting.
"she seems bored," he muses, thumb from the hand still gripping your wrist gently caressing your knuckles back and forth— a subconscious habit whenever his hands hold yours.
"should i entertain her?"
his question goes unanswered as he shifts over on his side while letting your hand go at the same time, causing you to slip from your spot on top of him to behind him, facing his back.
"—or leave her to her own devices?"
"sylus!"
your laughs are airy, quickly enveloping the spacious bedroom, and sylus finds himself smiling at the sound.
you don't leave him alone for long, quickly pressing against him and hugging his large frame from behind.
sylus releases a playful scoff. "is this a new attack of yours?"
"yeah, you can't escape, i'm going to stick to you like this forever and ever!"
"how touching," his voice is filled with amusement. "i think i can get used to this..." he trails off, smile evident in his words.
you stay that way for awhile when you decide to repeat your earlier actions in the new space, retracting a hand as you begin to draw shapes into his back this time. at the same time, sylus begins to hum whatever song is on his mind, eyes shut as he revels in your touches, neither one of you in a rush to get up from this sacred space for two.
"what are you drawing, kitten?"
your finger dances across the bare canvas of his back.
"guess," you answer simply as you continue.
he lets out a huff of a laugh. "not going to make it easy for me, are you?"
you hum in response, dragging your fingers to create imaginary lines over the muscles.
"is this... a kitten?" you can almost hear the raise of his eyebrow and see the funny yet curious expression on his face.
"oooh, i didn't think you'd get that one. how about..."
your finger traces several lines again, taking your time before you stop and wait for his answer.
"hmmm..." the way he's concentrating trying to figure it out fills you with amusement like no other.
"a... plane?"
"wrong, it was mephisto!"
"..it was close."
"are you calling mephisto a plane..?"
"..let's move on to the next one."
a hearty laugh rings out as you pretend to erase the image.
"wait until i tell him~"
"you wouldn't dare," he jokingly threats, causing you to only giggle back in response.
you decide on something much simpler this time.
your movements are slowed as you start near the center, drawing a tilted line outward and up before curving it inward and mimicking the same on the opposite side, connecting them to form a heart.
i love you.
a short, amused laugh leaves him, immediately recognizing the shape, but shaping a question instead of an answer.
"i'm not too sure, sweetie. might have to try that one again," he says, voice soft and tender, a hint of a smile within it.
say it once more.
so you do.
you repeat your action, slower, drawing another imaginary heart on his bare skin and within it, your unspoken promise of devotion towards him.
i love you.
this time, he turns around to face you, pulling you flush against him. you let out a short laugh before its devoured by his lips on yours, caught in a dance of love and devotion, giggles bubbling out of you between the breaks as you try to catch your breath while he needily chases your lips.
and the message he wishes to convey is clear as day.
i love you, too.
-
someone like him was the last person you thought you'd ever associate sweets with.
but after the time spent together, you find it hard to imagine anyone else cautiously reading the instructions, mixing the ingredients precisely, and carefully readying the icing for the fresh cupcakes that have come out of the oven and are left cooling nearby, except for him.
you tiptoe into the kitchen, watching him prepare a piping bag for the freshly-made icing he's made while he hums (when you asked him why he goes through the trouble of making it from scratch, he countered by asking "doesn't it taste better when you put in the work for something?" and despite playfully scoffing at the little smirk he offered, you couldn't help but to agree with him).
you smile at his focused expression, reading glasses perched on his nose, some remnants of ingredients spotting his clothes as he decides on which icing tip to use for these particular cupcakes (the last time he made them, they resembled simple flowers. based on the icing tip he was inspecting now, it seemed he was going to try for roses this time).
now just a step away from his back, you reach out both hands, index fingers out as you poke both sides of his lower back at the same time.
he jolts at the sensation, small gasp emitting from his lips and shock washing over him as he cranes his neck over his shoulder to catch your satisfied smile.
"another sneak attack, kitten?"
"i couldn't resist."
you step up beside him, taking a peek into the bowl filled with icing.
"red this time? i would've never guessed."
he scoffs, smiling.
"am i that predictable to you?"
"well, after spending so much time together, its only natural, right?"
"its bad if an enemy learns to read you so easily; who knows what trap will be set in the future."
"you're right," your words trail off as you step back, causing the sly crow before you to raise a brow.
"they can plan an attack when you're vulnerable, like—"
behind him again, you jump forward, wrapping your arms around his waist.
"this!"
his hearty chuckle rings through the kitchen.
even if he saw your intention from the start, he made no move to stop you. he'd surrender to you if you so much as asked.
"so? what will you do with me now that i'm caught?"
"hmmm..."
you hum in thought, noticing sylus has picked up the piping bag and was inserting the icing tip into it, getting ready to fill the bag with the red icing.
he's waiting for your answer when one of your hands reaches forward, dipping your finger into the icing bowl and quickly withdrawing your arms, swiftly turning around—
when you feel yourself being lifted into the air.
you let out a surprised squeal, giggling as you thrash around in the hold of sylus' evol, said man's attention still on the icing bag as he scoops a dallop of red into it.
"such a naughty kitten," he says, evol pulling your suspended body over to him slowly as you laugh the entire way.
"and naughty kittens deserve a punishment," as he speaks, he dips his own finger into the bowl of icing, red now gathered onto the tip before looking up at you through the rims of his glasses.
realizing what he's planning, you thrash around to no avail within the confines of his evol, trying to create distance between you two.
"nooooo! im sorry! please- aha, hahaha! sylus!"
your attempt is futile, sly smirk curling on sylus' lips as his finger moves closer and closer to your smiling face that's trying to inch further and further away, pressing his finger right onto your nose, painting it in red.
"noooooo!" you whine, sylus chuckling in amusement.
"how cute," he muses. "maybe this will teach you to behave in the kitchen."
he finally lets you down with his evol, eyeing you as you're standing upright and before him once again.
"now, go and wait till i'm finished, i'll even let you have the first taste," he bargains, turning his back to you and walking back towards the icing bowl.
despite this, a smirk plasters itself onto your face as you creep your way up behind him once again, red icing still staining your finger from moments ago stretched out, ready to paint his cheek—
"i thought i told you to behave."
despite the countless attempts to catch him by surprise attacks, he knows what you're saying through them:
i love you.
your wrist is easily caught in his grasp, stopping your attack before it can hit his cheek, a displeased groan emitting from your throat.
he brings your icing-covered finger close to his lips, lapping at the red. you watch as it momentarily stains his lips before his tongue licks them clean, humming at the flavor.
"it seems.. better this time, don't you think?" he turns, looking down at you.
you huff out a breath, trying to hide your embarrassment at his little action.
"be patient, kitten, i'll be done soon enough..." he trails off, hand unraveling from your wrist. "or do i have to restrain you?"
"i'm going, i'm going!"
with that, you scurry out of the kitchen to wait in the living room, sylus' amused chuckle surrounding the kitchen soon replaced by his soft, mindless humming once again.
i love you more.
-
a man of his caliber having a playful side seemed like a far-fetched idea.
until you experienced it for yourself.
and since the very first time, you're convinced he may be the most playful person on the entire planet.
to be fair, you kind of expected this, after all, its not like it was the first time.
but when you snatched a cupcake when his back was turned and took a bite, you didn't expect him to notice— at least, not right away.
but he did, and when he began counting, you instinctually bolted out of the kitchen, cupcake still in hand, giggles trailing behind you, determined to not be caught by him.
you dashed past the living area, two crow masks peeking up from their spot on the sofa and shifting to another figure— their boss— who was trailing behind you, watching until your figures disappeared down the long corridor of the hall.
"i give her five minutes," kieran pipes up, turning towards his brother.
"i give her three!"
"you're on!"
. . .
even as you dash down the halls, careful not to hit anything and running in scattered directions, it doesn't take long for sylus to close in on you.
you make it to a lounging area, movements slowed from the amount you've ran in the past couple of minutes, beginning to catch your breath after not sensing him around when you feel a weight on your shoulders.
"caught you."
"...!"
he's equally out of breath, taking a few moments to even his breathing, leaning against you more and more before pushing your body down onto the sofa. you fall back on the cushions with a short oof! still in the midst of catching your breath before sylus lays what feels like his entire weight right on top of you.
"sylus!"
you push against his broad chest, completely crushed by his beautiful build of a body, laughter ringing through the living space at your futile struggle against the smirking man above you.
"it seems a little kitten is stuck," he heaves a couple of breaths. "what are you going... to do about it?"
"get... off!" you laugh.
"i'm tired after all of that chasing... not to mention this is comfortable for me," he takes a couple more breaths, looking down at your slightly-sweaty face. "so i'd rather not."
"you're heavy, sylus!"
you weakly hit at his chest when he closes his eyes, pretending to fall asleep on top of you.
"sylus!"
slowly, he lifts himself up with his arms, hands planted flat on either side of your head.
"attacking me after making me chase you? how very cruel of you, sweetie."
your breaths are mostly even now, watching for sylus' next move.
he slowly begins moving his head down, and your eyes naturally flutter closed, expecting a kiss.
he takes this opportunity to plant his knees into the sofa, shifting his weight onto them as he leans down, breath fanning your lips.
"you trust me, sweetie?" he whispers against your lips.
"always," you whisper back.
he suddenly lifts his head, arms lifting at the same time before his fingers immediately begin dancing over your midriff.
your eyes shoot open in shock and betrayal, laughs immediately ripped from your throat as you thrash beneath him, trying your best to get away despite being caged into the sofa.
"s-sy-sy- ahahah! sto-o-p! s-stop! hahaha!"
his fingers continue their brutal attack on your sensitive skin, bubbling laughter infectious as sylus joins you, pleased smile adorning his face at your current state.
he relents shortly after, allowing you to catch your breath again as he looks down at you in a daze, reaching out to straighten your hair.
"kiss..." your voice is breathless, but he catches it.
"hm?"
"you still owe me... a kiss...." you breathe out, looking up at him expectantly. "from earlier."
"ah, of course."
he leans down, capturing your lips with his, hovering over your body as your arms snake around his neck, pouring your hearts into the action. you both kiss with equal fervor, chasing each others lips, never able to get your fill of the other.
i love you.
he pulls away slowly, your legs wrapping around his waist to keep him close in fear of him leaving you all of a sudden. the look in his eyes says i'm not going anywhere, his forehead touching yours as you both breathe each other in before he tucks his head into your shoulder.
"lets stay like this... just for a bit," his quiet, husky breath hits your ear and you shiver at the sensation.
"okay," you smile, hands petting through his silver locks.
i love you, most.
and you stay together, just like that, losing track of time in the world reserved for two, heartbeats syncing up as you meld against one another, both with the shared sentiment of never letting go.
(only at your insistence of taking a shower and slipping into some fresh clothes when you think he's dozed off does he relent, slowly getting up and scooping you into his arms, making his way down the hall towards his room).
-
sylus wasn't a man of love-filled sentiments.
at least, that's what you'd initially thought.
a man like him, the big bad leader of onychinus, someone who seemed to be above everyone else, the most sought-after criminal wielding a steel-cold gun in one of his bloodstained hands—
the same hands that cradled your face, caressed your hair any chance he got, tickled you when you least expected it, carried you so lovingly at your beck-and-call, hugging you close to his chest, close enough that you could feel his beating heart—
the heart of a man who loved so wholly and completely, devoting his entire being to you.
so, despite what anyone else may think, may also assume at first glance, you knew the truth:
despite the odds, sylus was someone that knew love the best.
-
epilogue:
"so... who won?" luke turns to his brother under the crow mask.
"i did, obviously," kieran is all-too confident.
"what?!? nuh-uh, she was definitely caught in less than five minutes!"
"did we watch the same thing? that was maybe six!"
"are you.... stupid?"
"rude!"
"i didn't think you'd try to lie your way to win," luke crosses his arms over his chest.
"i am not lying!"
"are too!"
the bickering continues for a couple more minutes until luke pipes up again.
"wait, what was the prize for whoever won the bet?"
"......"
kieran is the first to speak up again.
"you know what, since you won, you can be the one to tell boss the reason so many cupcakes are missing."
"WHAT???"
later, the cameras in mephisto's eyes would relay the twins chasing each other around— just amongst the footage of them scarfing down the freshly-made rose-icing cupcakes.
-
a/n: spreading the soft sylus agenda... this is inspired by a number of domestic art/tweets ive seen if i find them ill add but.. he's so soft..... i adore him
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#love and deepspace#lads#lnds#l&ds#love and deepspace x reader#love and deepspace x you#lads x reader#lads x you#lnds x reader#lnds x you#l&ds x reader#l&ds x you#love and deepspace sylus#lads sylus#lnds sylus#lads sylus x reader#lnds sylus x reader#l&ds sylus x reader#sylus qin x reader#sylus x reader#qin che
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18+ Filth and pure smut. My mind is on a sexy dilf Bucky with those delicious greys in his beard. I want his sweet wife teasing him over his age, especially after he shakes his head over the way their teenage sons friends keep trying to subtly hit on her. He doesn't blame them because his wife is gorgeous; an absolute milf and he's the luckiest man on the planet to call her his.
You can't help but playfully pinch his side when Bucky ushers your son and his friends all out of the house, slipping him a few bills, insisting he stay out late as he wants. He even gives him permission to crash at a friends house for the night leaving the two of you alone. (of course your son already knows why his dad is so persistent and it leaves him both disgusted and happy his parents are still so in love).
"Breakin' young boys hearts, Mrs. Barnes" Bucky lets out a low chuckle, untying the apron that was tied around your waist, letting it drop to the floor.
"Careful there, old man" You tease, giggling at the way he cocks an eyebrow not that the house was empty, "Might get a heart attack if you try anything at your age" and with that you saunter off to the bathroom to run a shower, looking over your shoulder to see if your husband would follow. He watches the way your hips sway, the insatiable little minx in you trying to get a rise out of him, discarding your clothing in the middle of the bedroom and leaving the bathroom door unlocked on purpose.
He'd show you exactly what an old man could do.
****
You felt your muscles relax as steam filled the room, hot water spraying against your skin while you added your peach shower gel to the loofah. You wondered what Bucky was up to, usually he'd-
"James" You gasp, feeling your husbands hard cock brush against your ass as he presses up you from behind, his large hands moving up your soap slicked body to grope onto your lathered breasts, his fingers pinching your nipples, giving them a harsh tug.
"Shhh," He smirked, nipping your neck, his tongue running up your skin, licking up the water droplets, "Don't stop on my account gorgeous, go on" He let out a satisfied hum when you went back to gently scrubbing your skin, his hands moving to rub up your thighs, ghosting in between them before pulling away and standing in front of you. His cock stood tall and proud, his swollen tip so pink, begging to be touched.
"James, please-
"Uh-uh, thought m' just an old man baby, just doin' what old men do" He smirked, palming himself, his eyes raking up and down your body, wrapping his hand around his shaft, "Aren't you pretty"
You went along with exactly what Bucky wanted, letting your hands trail along your body, soapy bubbles flowing down your curves while your husband started to stroke himself while leaning against the cold shower wall. "You're a pretty sight, look at what you do me to darlin' got me acting like a perverted little boy, touching myself while watching you"
He groaned, jerking himself faster, not sure what he wanted to focus on first. He'd seen you naked plenty of times and he'd certainly showered with you more times that he could count but he'd never get tired of the sight of his wife covered in the cutest bubbles, dripping wet, putting on a shower all just for him.
While Bucky was admiring you, you admired him right back. He'd aged like fine wine, his chestnut hair still luscious, the ends of his hair curling from the steam of the water. His beard had a few flecks of grey which just added to how handsome he was along with the thick muscle that ran under his skin. Nothing turned you on more than a very naked Bucky under hot water, lost in self pleasure with you as his muse. Every groan and whimper was for you, shamelessly touching every intimate part of himself because of you. It was that very sight that had your fingers start to travel down your body, your pussy desperately craving attention.
"That's mine, sugar" Bucky grabbed your wrist before you could slip it between your thighs, pulling it away and positioning himself behind you again. "This pussy here-" His palm cupped every bit of your cunt in the most debauched way, his cock slotted between your ass while his chest was pressed against your back, "Is all mine. I get to play with her baby, s'mine to touch"
"Then touch me Jamie, please" Your voice was nothing more than a whine now and the pet name that slipped out was more than enough for Bucky to know you needed him bad.
"M'Jamie now, huh? Thought I was just an old man before" He chuckled, rubbing his cockhead against your slicked entrance, teasing and letting the tip catch on your hole and pulling away before stuffing his way in.
"F-FUCK JAMES!" You cried out as he set a brutal pace without warning, his thighs slamming against your ass, his hands holding your hips with a bruising grip. "P-PLEASE-Don't-don't stop!"
"That's it, scream for me baby, let everyone know how your husband fucks you" Bucky's hands held onto you for dear life, fucking you like a ragdoll, his fingers skimming across your belly and down to your clit. He could feel your stretch marks as he felt your body up, one of his favorite things about you, his mind starting to wander.
He remembered the way they felt when you were pregnant with your son, the way he'd hold onto your belly, tracing over those gorgeous lines as they made room for his growing baby boy. He'd feel those same curves when making love to you, loving the way you were extra sensitive, constantly craving for him to fill you up. You were the most gorgeous thing when you had a piece of him inside you, fuck he missed it, his balls felt so fuckin' heavy and full and maybe it was just the heat and steam from the shower but-
"Think you could handle another baby?" Bucky purred, his cock already getting harder at the thought of you with a rounded belly again, looking fucking gorgeous, barefoot and pregnant. He was perfectly happy with the way things were but another wouldn't hurt....
Fuck it.
"M'gonna knock you up pretty girl, you'll have my baby again won't ya, gonna let me get you pregnant again? Show everyone I still know how to fuck, show em how well you take my cum in that tight little cunt"
"Oh God, Jamess" Your eyes practically crossed as his fingers began to strum your clit, your head thrown back, barring your neck letting him bite and suck bruises onto your skin, groaning into your ear, "Gonna-gonna cum"
"C'mon mommy, make me a daddy again" Bucky's pace grew faster, the obscene sound of skin slapping filling the bathroom. "Milk my cock, take my cream, want it, want another baby"
Bucky angled his hips to hit depths you didn't know were possible, his fingers rubbing tight circles onto your clit along with those words alone sent you crashing head first into your orgasm. A sob slipped past your lips as your vision went white, your cunt greedily pulsing and gripping onto Bucky's cock, coaxing for him to empty his balls in you.
"That's-fuck that's it, just like that, milk it, shit mommy, milk daddy's cock, fuck'm'gonna-oh God I'm cumming!" Bucky bit down onto your shoulder letting out a slutty moan as cum burst from his cock, his endless orgasm leading to drops of his pearly white seed splashing onto the shower tile below. "Fuck, you make me cum so hard for you baby"
His hips stutterd at the aftershocks of his orgasm, his cock still throbbing the last few spurts while his arms held your limp body, rinsing you both off. He wrapped you up with a fluffy towel, carrying you bed with ease and snuggling up in the sheets.
"Meant what I said, angel" Bucky gave you a soft smile, a hint of shyness now replacing his previous dominant demeanor. "How about another"
"I'd give you as many babies as you want, Mr. Barnes" You giggled, squealing when he rolled on top of you, instantly hard-
My bad, I got distracted while already distracted and then this happened. Look at him though, can you blame me.
#bucky x reader#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x f!reader#bucky x y/n#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes#dilf bucky#dilf bucky barnes#bucky barnes x wife#james bucky barnes#james buchanan barnes#james bucky buchanan barnes#daddy bucky#bucky barnes fan fic#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky fan fiction#bucky fan fic#bucky fanfic#marvel fanfiction#marvel#marvel fic#marvel smut#marvel fanfic#avengers fluff#avengers smut#avengers fanfiction
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i don't have a specific request in mind js pls bless us with icky big bro caleb and icky daddy sylus content I'm on my kneeeees🧎����♀️
How about icky big bro Caleb AND icky daddy Sylus together ?? My head is S P I N N I N G tw: incest, pseudo-incest, dubcon (?), manipulative and yandere-ish behavior.
Based on the Tomorrow’s Catch 22 event, Sylus is your guardian and Caleb is still the “childhood friend” (🙄 which to me means blood related big brother OBVIOUSLY) that you grow up with. So let’s say Sylus takes the two of you in when you were kids and raises you both. But of course Sylus has a distinct favorite- you, his precious little bird. (Ꮚ˘ ꈊ ˘ Ꮚ)
And both your brother and adopted father are LETHALLY protective over you. You’ve always been caught in the middle of their affection, feeling the tug from one side to the other like dogs with a rope. Sylus disappears for several years, and in that time Caleb has you all to himself. He knows how much you miss the only father-figure you’ve ever had, but he LOVES being the sole recipient of your attention now. You lean on your big brother heavily, and Caleb takes SUCH good care of you.
So when Sylus decides to show up again, Caleb itches to hide you away in a place only he can find. You start to notice his demeanor shifting, and try to reason Sylus’ sudden reappearance. “Dad’s just trying to make up for lost time, can’t you at least try to get along with him?”
God, Caleb hates when you call that fucker your Dad. He’s not, and he shouldn’t have the pleasure of hearing the name curl around your tongue. You always used to get away with anything, just by flashing Sylus a wide eyed “Please, daddy.”
Sylus can’t say he’s hurt by the tension between himself and his eldest “son”. Caleb’s always been more of an obstacle to him anyway. But now, he’s got the advantage. Caleb lives and works in Skyhaven, leaving his poor little sister in Linkon to fend for herself. It’s only natural for Daddy to suggest you move in with him. And the thought alone has your brother reeling from the thought of you playing house in the N109 Zone.
So now your life is spent like a tennis ball being volleyed from one man to another, spending every weekend Caleb has free up in Skyhaven and every weekday with Sylus. Both men always trying to one up each other, buying you pretty things, taking you on lavish trips, doting in you in every way.
The way Caleb fucks you is often hostile, jealous of all the time he’s sure you’ve spent in “Daddy’s” bed. He makes you scream his name, makes you beg for big brother’s cock, makes you cum around him so many times your poor clit starts feeling numb.
After a weekend at Caleb’s you come home with hickies and bruises everywhere. Sylus shakes his head and tssks you, musing at how much of a cum whore his daughter became. But don’t worry, daddy can’t ever stay mad at you for long, especially when you curl up between his legs so sweetly and beg for forgiveness. You’ll suckle at his cock for hours with tears streaming down your face. You’ll let Sylus fuck your face and take his load on your chin “just like my little cumslut daughter likes”
It’s a vicious cycle, really.
#ask.dollie#secret.dollie#lads smut#lads sylus#lads caleb#caleb smut#sylus smut#tw.incest#tw.pseudocest#tw.dubcon
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✴︎ BED CHEM
જ⁀➴ Rintaro Suna, your neighbor and bane of existence. Ever since his family moved in next to your family, the tension between the two of you was thick enough to cut with a knife. Yes, maybe you did make out with him at the neighborhood barbecue party and perhaps you did end up in bed with him - or rather, in the backseat of his car. But you didn't expect your families to get along so great that they would go on a two week long vacation together - so now you're stuck with your annoyingly handsome neighbor who somehow always gets under your skin.
ノ including: Suna
ノ cw: fem!reader, Suna and you are both around 20 and still live at home here, exhibitionism, public sex, car sex, fingering, cunnilingus, nipple play, protected sex
ノ wordcount: 1.9k
ノ info: requested by anon // I hope I didn't disappoint you dear anon 🥹
REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED!
"Rintaro, stop! Someone could see us!" You squeak at the man that latched onto your neck like a leech, sucking small marks onto your sensitive skin before kissing them. His hand was gently caressing your breast beneath the thin fabric of your swimwear and you couldn't help but melt at the attention he gave to your body.
"And who would that someone be? The beach is entirely empty," he chuckled against your skin while his fingers gently rolled your pebbled nipple to get any sort of reaction out of you. One word could stop this all, you knew it, yet you didn't say it because deep down you wanted this too.
Your back arched against his hand ever so slightly, craving his caress and the sound of a single seagull started to sound like it's laughing at you, mocking you for surrendering without a real fight.
Suna’s lips curled into a wolfish grin as he continued to press lazy kisses against your neck, gently nibbling at your pulse point every once in a while until his hand eventually wandered further down. Your left boob was left exposed to the gentle breeze of the ocean, your bikini top shifted from the way his hand played with your chest.
A pleasant tingling spread over your skin, leaving goosebumps behind where his fingers danced along your body and it felt addictive - Strong hands kneading your inner thighs, fingertips brushing past the spot where your legs and your core connected but never quite touching where you needed him the most. It took everything inside of you to not give in, to buck against his hand so he gently nudged his knuckles against your cunt to relieve this need for friction- even if it was only for a single second.
“Rin… please,” you plead breathily, but Suna pulled his hand away instead.
A wicked smirk appeared on Suna's face after he pulled away, acting like nothing has happened between the two of you.
"Please what? I thought you wanted me to stop?" He asked, feigning innocence as he reminded you that you told him to stop because you were scared of getting caught.
Just seconds later, he casually laid his shirt onto your upper body to cover your still exposed boob. This action alone made you wonder what was going on, but you soon heard the voices of a couple walking by. Sly fucker.
"I think it's time to head back, don't you think? Quality time with the family and all that," he mused and pulled his shirt off of you the second the potential risk of getting caught was gone - just like the couple disappeared, so did Suna, who was already on his way to the car you two came in.
Quickly, you fixed your bikini top and grabbed your things before running after him like a lost puppy. It's not like he would have left you behind at the beach, but you were furious with him for the relentless teasing.
"What is your fucking problem?!" You hiss at the man who just closed the trunk of his car with a loud thud. Of course he squinted his eyes at your question.
"I have no problems, thanks for asking," he hummed, acting innocent.
"But I think that you have a problem, hm? One that needs my help?" He teased further while his hand slowly moved to rest on your hip, playing with the strings of your bikini bottoms.
"Out here? Are you insane?" You asked him with alarmed eyes, looking around once again, but you were the only people there, no other car near and far on the small parking spot.
"If you'd rather help yourself back home where our parents are, be my guest." His eyes were glinting with mischief when the words left his mouth. He really did want you to beg for it.
The desperation grew inside of you until it became unbearable and you decided to push your pride aside, giving in for once and allowing him to win this stupid game. Without further hesitation you crashed your lips against his in a kiss that was both passionate and full of yearning.
It only took a heartbeat for Suna to respond. His lips melted against yours as if they had always belonged there, made for each other.
Time and space seemed to stop for the both of you as you were making out against the car. Suna's thigh slowly made its way between your legs, letting you grind and rub your clothed pussy against his bare thigh - finally granting you that sweet friction that you so desperately craved.
"Get into the backseat," Suna urged you as he opened the door for you. His cock was painfully erect from teasing you all this time and the way you humped his leg almost had him come undone in his swim shorts.
You weren't fast enough for his liking, slender fingers already opening the strings of your bikini shorts before you landed on the cushioned seat where you spread your legs for him in a moment's notice. A sharp intake of air was all you heard from the man in front of you, who was eyeing you down like the most delicious meal, before looking around once more to make sure that no one would interrupt the two of you.
Suna leaned into the back of the car, his lips softly pressed kisses against your chest before capturing one of your nipples in his mouth while one of his hands slipped between your bodies. Feeling you arch against him left the brown haired man smirking as his tongue leisurely caressed your nipple that he latched onto and two of his long fingers slipped inside your dripping wet entrance just to curl right against your sweet spot.
"Just listen how wet you are for me, hm?" His voice rasped out in a teasing way against the swell of your breast. The squelching noises were obscene at this point and it rendered you so desperate, unable to hide your need for the pleasure only he can provide.
Suna released your nipple with a loud pop and his kisses traveled over your belly down between your legs, where he wasted no time to give your clit the same attention that your nipple held mere seconds ago. The man just had to get a taste of your arousal and he groaned against your pussy, which sent vibrations through your entire body.
"Please don't stop," you whine as you gently tug on his hair, trying to keep his head nestled against your cunt, but Suna didn't plan on stopping when you were that close.
His cock might have ached from how hard it was, but he was a firm believer that women come first. His tongue lapped against your clit in fast strokes while his fingers worked you open and massaged your sweet spot until he could feel your thighs quiver around his head. Your own hand shot up to muffle your cries of ecstasy as you came undone within seconds, your hips rolling against his tongue, which flattened out to allow you to grind against his face.
Suna eventually pulled away to lick his fingers clean from the remnants of your arousal, his chin still glistening with your juices in the setting sun. Once he stood up to his full height again, you could see the tent that had formed in his swim shorts, but he disappeared to the front of the car to rummage through the glove compartment.
"You're awfully prepared," you laughed softly when he appeared with a condom in hand and he shook his head with a small chuckle.
"Only because I had to pull out last time," he answered smoothly and you weren't sure if he meant that one time after the barbecue party with you or if he fucked other women in the car after that.
You lean up to watch him roll the clear condom down his shaft in just one stroke as if he had practiced this many times before. When he leans forward to drag his bulbous tip through your folds, you reach down to stop him, your hand resting on his hip bone uncomfortably. Why did you even care?
"You do this a lot, huh? Taking pretty girls to your car to fuck," You ask almost hurt, even though you had no right to feel bitter about it. Yet, that little voice in the back of your head had to ask, had to know how many girls laid where you did. At least he used protection, you thought.
"Too busy fucking my neighbor for that," he mused and leaned forward to kiss you gently - almost sweetly and your hand removed itself from his hip to line him up with your entrance.
Both of you groan at the feeling when his cock slides into your pussy, gripping him tightly as if you were made for him. Suna, however wasted no time to thrust into you with these deep strokes that weren't fast but knocked the air out of your lungs each and every time. He allowed himself to get lost in the feeling of your sweet pussy wrapping around him so fucking tight his mind completely blanked out.
Your soft mewls of his name brought him back to reality, however, reminding him that you're still in a parking lot and he shouldn't drag this out too long and you shouldn't get too loud.
One of his hands slipped between your sweat-slick bodies to rub your sensitive clit. The stimulation paired with his deep thrusts had your eyes rolling back into your skull in pure bliss. His lips found yours again to swallow your moans and to keep himself grounded since his thrusts grew sloppy from how tight your walls squeezed around him, but when they finally started to flutter and pull him further inside, he allowed himself to release as well.
Suna made sure to keep up shallow thrusts to ride out both your orgasms before stilling completely. When he stood up again, his thumb caressed your cheek in a loving manner before he retreated completely to discard the condom.
"Water is in the front if you need any," he called out from the trashcan a few feet away where he tied up the condom to throw it away while you tied the strings of your bikini again, still struggling to catch your breath.
"You're not gonna hold me like last time?" You asked teasingly as you climbed to sit in the front of the car where he was already getting buckled up to leave.
"Who said that I was done with you?" He looked at you from the corner of his eyes and smirked when he saw you melt further into the seat at the promise of more pleasure.
#✶࿐inkspills#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu smut#suna x reader#suna smut#suna rintaro x reader#suna rintaro smut#suna rintarou#haikyuu suna#haikyuu#haikyuu x you#suna rintaro x you#.nsfw#.request delivery
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won't somebody come take me home? [Logan/Reader]
Summary: You've been abandoned to the Void after experiencing heartbreak in your universe. Instead of becoming food for Alioth or one of Cassandra's underlings, you find a new family with the resistance seeking to bring her down. When Johnny doesn't come back to the hideout, you keep watch in the hopes of seeing his return. Instead, you find a Deadpool variant fighting someone who looks achingly familiar. Someone who reminds you of your old life and the person who broke your heart. When you finally come face to face with a Logan after being pruned from your universe, you're not expecting the longing you're met with or the fact that in his universe, you were his wife. Word Count: 7.7k Author's Note: I've wanted to write for X-Men for so long and then I saw Deadpool and Wolverine and fell in love with Logan all over again. If you like this, please let me know! I'm so nervous about writing for a new fandom. And if you want to see more X-Men stuff from me, please let me know that as well! Reader's song for this is definitely I'm With You by Avril Lavigne, but I kind of imagine Logan's ends up being Hanging By a Moment by Lifehouse.
closer to where I started // all the smiles that are ever gonna haunt me
Read on AO3
Everyone in the Void had a tragic backstory that was befitting a hero or villain or anything in between. You were the ones who were lost, abandoned, or forgotten by your worlds and the people you cared about more than anyone else.
You didn't remember much about how you got to the Void, but you had a pretty good understanding of why you were dropped into the barren wasteland for the multiverse's landfill.
Like most people in the Void, you were here because of heartbreak. The one person you had loved with your entire being had loved someone else. You had given him your all, but he only gave you a piece of himself. And when he ripped that piece of himself away, leaving you aching and broken, you were swept out like unwanted trash and right into the Void.
"What's got you so down today, ma chérie?" Remy dropped down into the chair at your side.
You huffed out a laugh that was nowhere near amused. "Besides the fact that we're all stuck here and trying to avoid Cassandra and her wandering fingers?" You brought your hand up and wriggled them in Remy's face, reluctantly letting out a laugh when he snapped his teeth at them.
"Ah, there's that smile," he mused, bumping his shoulder into yours. "You thinkin' 'bout your old life?"
You rolled your eyes, inanely feeling your throat tighten as you fought the urge to cry. You kept your gaze on the bottle of whiskey on the table. Remy reached for it, but he met resistance and turned a glare on you.
You shrugged your shoulders before dropping the forcefield. "I had a dream about him last night," you admitted with a scowl. "About what happened and how no one on my team had my back. How they all thought it was inevitable." You snorted before you quickly grabbed the bottle and took a swig, relishing the burn that traveled down your throat and sent warmth pulsing through your chest. You handed it over to Remy, ignoring his obvious annoyance.
"Listen, you're a lot better off now than you were with those fuckers," he consoled as he finally wrapped his hand around the bottle. "But don't go gettin' between me and my drink, now," he warned, his eyes briefly flashing red before fading away. "I'm not like those assholes who abandoned you. You've got nothin' to hate me for."
"You're real shit at pep talks, you know that?" Johnny cut in, knocking into Remy as he walked by. "Leave Y/N alone. She doesn't want to put up with your bullshit right now."
"And you suppose she wants to put up with yours? All you've got is bullshit," Remy taunted, idly twirling a card between his fingers. It was half a threat, but Johnny would only fight fire with fire and Remy knew it. Elektra had forbidden both of them from using their powers in the hideout, since they had almost burned it down last time.
"Will you both just stop?" You groaned, letting your head hit the table. Someone reached out to pat you on the shoulder, but you didn't bother to look and see who did it. "I love and respect you both dearly, but if you leave another scorch mark in here, then we'll all be in trouble."
Remy obediently stowed the card back up his sleeve while Johnny rolled his eyes.
"Yeah, whatever," he sighed before making for the door. “See you later.”
"Where are you going?" You called, watching him retreat.
"I'll be around," Johnny answered, shooting you a smirk over his shoulder. "I always come back, don't I?"
You didn't get a chance to respond before he was gone. You always worried about Johnny when he went on his little trips around the Void. He swore he would be careful not to run into any of Cassandra's goons, but you knew all of your days were limited. Whether it was Alioth or Cassandra or one of the many rogue Deadpools wandering around, it was only a matter of time before trouble found you.
Remy stood up and placed the half-empty bottle of whiskey in front of you. "Just this once," he allowed with a wink. "You appreciate that, though, you hear?"
"Thanks," you muttered before reaching for the bottle.
You spent the rest of the day trying to block out the dream while you trained with Laura.
You were so caught up in your own thoughts that you didn't realize you had company.
"Damn, what's got you so riled up?"
You turned to look at Eric, surprised to see him standing there. You then realized your knuckles had split open and you had trashed the makeshift punching bag you had made out of an old blanket and some sand.
"Nothing," you deflected, half-tempted to go invisible just so no one could see you. Even though he was wearing sunglasses, you knew you had his full attention and you didn't want another lecture on leaving your past behind.
No one on your team was good at that, but you were arguably the worst at letting your pain go.
You always hated when you dreamt about Logan. His last words to you echoing in your mind over and over. You hadn't been enough for him, but Jean? Jean was everything he wanted. You supposed your powers paled in comparison and you would never measure up when all you could do was conjure forcefields and become invisible. Logan had been in love with her from the first moment he laid eyes on her, but you had never seen that look on his face when he looked at you.
It was a pity that you had given Logan everything only to be cast aside for the one who truly held his heart.
If Johnny were there, he would have told Blade to mind his own business, but he still hadn't come back.
"Again," Laura prompted, drawing your attention towards the punching bag. It was half-demolished, but you figured you still had some fight in you.
You noticed her shake her head at Eric as you turned away and focused all your hurt into your fists, watching the bag fall apart.
Johnny hadn't returned by the next morning and you were starting to worry.
You considered everyone your family, but you had a special bond with Johnny. He had been the first person to welcome you to the resistance and you, specifically your powers, had reminded him of his sister. He opened up to you about how much he missed his team, his family, and you told him about the heartbreak you had endured in your universe.
"I'll tell you what, if I ever get my hands on your Logan, I'll light the fucker on fire."
You felt a laugh bubble out of you. It was the first time you had laughed in ages and it felt so good to know you could still find joy in things. "He'd just regenerate."
"Not when I'm done with him," Johnny promised. "I'll cook him 'til he's just a heap of ash and then you'll dance on his remains."
You shook your head, but let Johnny carry on with his elaborate plan for revenge on your behalf. Johnny would never meet your Logan and you knew you would never actually see him again. Everyone in the Void was forgotten and there was no escape.
"You worried about Johnny?" Elektra wondered, coming to stand at your side.
You were keeping an eye on the horizon, searching for any sign that Johnny was coming home.
"It's not like him to be gone this long without some kind of message he's okay.
"He's gotten this far, hasn't he?" Elektra pointed out, shooting you a reassuring look. "He'll be fine."
You nodded your head, but didn't budge from your spot.
"You plan on staying out here all night?" Elektra asked.
"If I have to," you admitted with a shrug of your shoulders. "What if he's in trouble?"
"Then you won't be any help to him sleep-deprived," she answered.
"I've had worse," you deflected with a forced grin.
Elektra sighed, but didn't try to dissuade you again.
You had a pair of binoculars Laura had scavenged and you were doing your best to keep an eye on your surroundings. You were surveying a forest when something caught your attention. You focused on the sight, wondering for a moment if Elektra had been right and sleep deprivation was messing with your mind.
You pulled the binoculars away and blinked a few times before looking through them again.
"Ah fuck," you groaned when you realized that what you were seeing was real.
"What's wrong?" Laura asked, startling you.
"Shit," you hissed, nearly dropping the binoculars. You handed them over and pointed towards what previously held your attention. "You see that?"
"Is that--?" Laura cut herself off before shooting you a disbelieving look. "It's him."
"With a Deadpool," you confirmed with a nod of your head.
"We should get them before someone else does," Laura suggested, handing the binoculars back to you.
You hesitated, knowing she was right, but hating the idea of seeing him again.
"I can go alone," Laura offered. You knew she also loved her Logan, but he had been like a father to her up until his final moments. Your Logan had managed to bring you nothing but pain and insecurity.
"No," you told her with a firm shake of your head. Johnny had gone off alone and now it had been almost two days since the last time you saw him. In the Void, that was as good as a death sentence. "I'll go with you."
You let the others know you were off to rescue two new recruits to the resistance and helpfully left out the fact that one of those people was a Logan variant.
Laura led the way and you followed in her tracks. You kept yourself invisible, knowing that if anyone came after Laura, then you could use your presence as a surprise. You had also learned to use your forcefields as a weapon as much as a defense and you were ready if anyone tried to attack.
Once you got to the station wagon, you let yourself become visible again. You slowly approached the car while Laura investigated the clearing for any signs that you might have been followed. You could see the Deadpool variant wrapped up in the seatbelts, but you couldn't help but let your focus stray to Logan.
He was different from your Logan, but seeing his face hurt all the same. Your Logan had taken everything from you and given nothing back except for pain. This Logan was a stranger, but he still brought up familiar feelings. Love and confusion and agony.
"Is he yours?" Laura wondered, finally joining you in your study of Logan.
"No," you assured her. "Mine would've never been caught dead in the yellow suit," you admitted with just the tiniest hint of relief. You never wanted to see your Logan again, but you couldn't help but admit to yourself that didn't mean you never wanted to see any other Logan. You were scared, terrified of the pain he might cause you, but you hadn't been able to let go of the love you held for him. You were sure, even in that moment, that you would love Logan in every universe. It was too bad he wouldn't love you just the same.
Although, you supposed you didn't really have a Logan. You never did, since the one from your universe was never yours in the first place.
Doubt and wariness began to creep in and you started to herd Laura towards the Honda you were half-sure belonged to the Nicepool variant. "You drive," you prompted, opening the passenger door seat and carefully sitting among the wreckage and blood that was practically painted on every surface of the car.
Laura started the car and you glanced over your shoulder, waiting for the two backseat occupants to stir, but they were both still knocked out.
"They really did a number on each other," you muttered, your gaze already back on Logan.
Laura was silent for long enough that you thought she was ignoring you. "It's not your Logan," she reminded you after a couple of minutes. You realized you were still watching him and finally forced yourself to turn around in your seat.
"It's not," you confirmed, studying your hands in your lap. You let them shift in and out of visibility, a nervous habit you had when you were torn between fight and flight.
"Then he's not the one who hurt you," she continued, keeping her focus on the path in front of you.
"He's not the one who saved you," you shot back. The way she looked at this Logan like she was seeing her savior miraculously alive all over again had felt like a punch in the gut. You were both mourning and the source of it had just dropped right back into your lives. "He might be worse," you pointed out.
"He might be better," she argued with a quick glance at you. "He might not even know us."
"Yeah," you sighed, reaching out to place a hand on her shoulder, silently apologizing for being so defensive. "Eric's right," you conceded with a grimace. "I need to let it go."
"Hard to let something like that go," she allowed with a soft smile at you. She was the only one who knew the full story. Johnny knew most of it and the others knew enough, but Laura had loved her own Logan like family. She knew what it was like to lose him, albeit in a very different way.
When you got back to the hideout, Laura helped free Deadpool while you formed a forcefield around Logan and used it to lift him out of the car. Charles had claimed it was a form of telekinesis, but you always told him you were just controlling the forcefield. Whatever was inside it just happened to move with it. If you dropped the forcefield, then whatever was inside it would fall.
Laura dragged Deadpool inside while you let Logan hover through the air and into the hideout. Laura left Deadpool on the floor, but you were careful with Logan and let him hover just over the bed you used before letting him go.
Laura shot you a bemused look before going to let the others know you had company.
You weren't really sure what to do with yourself, so you settled for pacing from one end of the room to the other. You were halfway across the room when you heard a rustling noise behind you. You half-hoped it was Deadpool waking up, but when you turned around, it was to see Logan squinting up at the ceiling.
You froze, not daring to move a muscle. Logan blinked a few times before he began to sit up. He stopped and then tilted his head up, sniffing the air. You had always found the way he used his enhanced sense of smell adorable, even if no one else did. He suddenly turned and buried his face in your pillow, pulling in deep breaths. He reached up to clutch the pillow in his hand as he sat up, keeping it pressed to his face.
You weren't even really sure what was going on, so by the time he finally lowered the pillow and met your gaze, you were staring at him completely dumbstruck.
Several emotions warred for control on Logan's face when he saw you. Grief, despair, heartbreak, hope, disbelief, and relief. Finally, he seemed to pull them all together into a neutral expression.
"Y/N," he started, taking a step towards you.
You instinctively took a step back. You knew that this Logan wasn't the one who hurt you, but it was hard to let all of that go when someone who looked exactly like your Logan was staring right at you.
"You're alive," he tried again, taking another step, as if he was drawn to you.
"I am," you answered, your hands clenched into fists at your side. You couldn't handle the way Logan was looking at you. He looked at you like you were his whole world. You would have killed to get your Logan to look at you like that. But having it now, from a different Logan, felt equal parts thrilling and unsettling. "Who am I to you?" You asked, needing to know what you were dealing with now. You had assumed maybe you were part of Logan's team in his universe, but he was hopelessly in love with Jean and didn't give a fuck about you. The way he was looking at you told an entirely different story.
"You're--," he started before he looked down at his left hand. You could see a wedding band around his ring finger. "You're my wife," he finally admitted as he balled his hand into a fist. "You were, at least," he added with a grimace. "And me? What am I to you in your universe?"
You didn't know whether to tell the truth or lie. But Logan had always known you way too well and any story you spun would unravel as you told it. "I loved you," you finally confessed. "But you left me for someone else," you continued, noting the way Logan's expression tightened, rage flashing in his eyes.
"Who?" He growled, advancing on you.
It was your biggest shame and worst heartbreak, so you faltered over the name for a moment. But you weren't even in the same universe as her or him anymore and it was time for you to stop running from your pain.
"Jean. He left me for Jean, alright? It didn't matter that I loved him and it didn't matter that we were together. Scott died and Jean needed someone and apparently that couldn't be anyone but him. He told me it was nothing, but I knew. He never looked at me the way you just did. He looked at her like she was the only person he cared about and when he left me for her, I ended up here," you hissed, finally walking towards Logan. "And I bet neither of them ever gave a fuck that I just up and disappeared. So, seeing you now has brought up all the shit he put me through," you snarled, reaching out to push at his shoulder.
"Y/N, I--," he started, reaching out for you. His expression was nearly reverent as he let his hand fall on your shoulder.
"Don't," you said, pushing away from him. "I'm not your wife," you snapped, hating the way his expression closed off and was replaced with that look he got when he was trying not to feel anything at all.
"And I'm not him," he shot back. His gaze drifted to the side and he reached out to grab a bottle of Remy's whiskey. He popped the top off the bottle and took a long swig.
You heard someone groan before you looked over at Deadpool. He brought a hand up to his head and Logan turned to watch him. He took another drink, keeping the bottle close to his chest, as he approached Wade.
"Ugh, what's with the angry bear staring me down?" Wade wondered, finally sitting up. "Also, where the hell are we? Are we about to be skinned and used as decoration for some post-apocalyptic lair?"
"Do you ever shut up?" Logan growled, taking another drink.
You knew it took a lot to get Logan drunk, but at the rate he was going, he would end up there by nightfall.
Deadpool finally scanned the room and noticed you. He got to his feet and pointed a finger at you. "Oh, holy shit. You're Y/N! You're a big part of this guy's tragic backstory, I can tell ya that, so what are you doing here?" Wade reached out to clap a hand to Logan's shoulder and got brushed off.
"That's enough!" Elektra called before walking into the room.
Wade looked shocked to see Elektra, but his eyes went wide at the sight of Blade striding into the room. Gambit then made his entrance before Laura took up the rear of the group.
Introductions went around, before Wade started in on Gambit and his accent. You could tell Remy was reluctantly amused, but he was distracted by something else.
Remy dismissed Wade and focused in on Logan. He shot you a quick, concerned look before he began flipping a card as he studied Logan. "Well, we've never had a Wolverine up in here before. Not sure we've ever wanted one here before," he said with another look at you. "I can tell you now it's just a common courtesy to at least ask before you go drinking up all my liquor."
"It's a good thing I don't give a fuck," Logan responded before taking another drink.
Remy's eyes burned red as he muttered an insult under his breath. He let the card in his hand go, letting it slice the bottle of liquor in half. Glass and whiskey rained down on Logan's boots, but he looked unbothered. He reached out to grab another bottle before pulling the top off and taking a drink.
"Oh, you sure are an asshole, aren't you? I'm starting to see why you hate this one," Remy continued, aiming the last sentence at you.
"You hate him?" Wade asked, whipping his head back and forth, from you to Logan and back again. Wade gasped and turned to point an accusing finger at Logan. "You and you," he pointed to you, "aren't a you in your universe?" He pressed his hands together, letting his fingers interlock. "What'd he do? Was he too busy practicing his brooding in the mirror? He try to slip you a little adamantium surprise in the bedroom? Did he--"
"Shut up," Logan snapped, tightening his grip on the bottle in his hand.
"You don't know what the fuck you're talking about," you admonished Wade.
Wade held his hands up in surrender, but he reached out to put a hand on Logan's shoulder. "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, my friend," he consoled before he approached you. He held his arms out as he walked towards you. "Come here, baby bird, and tell Papa Deadpool all about it," he said as he wrapped his arms around you.
"Get your hands off her," Logan growled, unsheathing his claws.
You brought a forcefield up between you and Wade. It was big enough to encompass his chest and abdomen and you used it to forcefully push him back. You slammed him into the wall, easing up, just to slam him into it again.
"Alright, alright," he coughed out, holding his hands up in surrender. "Don't piss off the Invisible Woman, got it," he conceded as you let your forcefield drop.
You rolled your eyes before crossing your arms over your chest. "That's not what they call me." The reminder of Johnny's sister brought up the worry you had for him. "Where the hell did you two come from?"
Wade did most of the talking and explained about the TVA, Cassandra, and their near-miss with Alioth.
"No one's ever made it out of Cassandra's clutches before," Elektra observed with something verging on respect in her tone.
"No one alive," Eric interjected with an unimpressed glare at Deadpool.
"Well, she is quite terrifying and a little grabby," Wade allowed with a nod of his head.
"One of ours has been missing for two days," you told Wade, carefully not looking at Logan. Logan had been watching you the whole time and you knew he was only mourning a ghost, but you hated how much you liked finally having Logan's undivided attention. "His name is Johnny. Did you see him?"
"The little flameball might've made an appearance, sure, but he's not with us," Wade explained with a flippant wave of his hand.
"Yeah, because you fucking got him killed with your big mouth," Logan snapped at Wade.
"Johnny's dead?" You asked, not wanting to believe it. You loved the others like family, but Johnny had practically been a brother to you. Sure, he let his mouth get him in trouble half the time, but he always managed to get himself out of it. "What the hell happened?"
"Cassandra decided she liked his insides on the outside," Wade answered, "because she's a megalomaniacal, psychotic asshole. Johnny’s words, not mine."
"Well, we've all been knowin' that," Remy said, idly shuffling a deck of cards in his hands. "But what're we gonna do about her, huh? She's got an army and we've just got us."
"Look, you've all been forgotten by your universes, but we can still take her if we team up. You got a Magneto here?" Wade questioned, hope in his voice that you knew was about to be crushed.
You moved to sit down at the table while you listened to the conversation carry on. There was a lot happening all at once and you didn’t know how to process any of it. Wade was desperate to get back to his own timeline, but Logan only seemed resigned. You didn't know how to accept the fact that Johnny was dead and you didn't know how to ignore the fact that Logan was still watching you.
When a plan was made to go after Cassandra and use Juggernaut's helmet to block her powers, you reluctantly agreed that it had some merit. If only because you wanted to get any type of revenge on Cassandra that you could to avenge Johnny.
The others were all on board and you knew most of them wanted nothing more than to bring Cassandra down as well. It was a suicide mission for most of you, but you figured if it meant stopping Cassandra and saving someone's universe, even if that someone was Wade Wilson, then it might be worth it.
"I'm in," you found yourself saying.
"Like hell you are," Logan cut in. "You'll just get yourself killed again and I can't--"
"I'm not dead," you pointed out, aware that the others were watching the pair of you. "I'm right here, because I'm not the one you lost."
"Well, I sure as hell don't want to go losing you again. You can't tell me you think this whackjob's plan is actually going to work out? He’s an idiot."
“Sticks and stones,” Wade muttered, rocking on his heels as he looked at Logan. “Sticks and stones.”
"You can do whatever you want," you told Logan, finally standing from your seat at the table. "But I'm going and if I die? Then at least I die doing something that's not just hiding and waiting for my inevitable end. At least I can help someone, even if it's a Deadpool," you said, gesturing towards Wade.
"Thanks?" Wade tried, sounding torn between flattered and insulted.
You didn't give Logan a chance to reply, because you left the room, opting to walk outside to get some distance from him.
Later, you heard from Remy that you were heading out first thing in the morning. You agreed to be ready by then and spent the rest of the evening invisible. You wanted to be alone, but you also hated the idea of losing one last opportunity to talk to Logan, even if he wasn't yours.
He was outside, staring into the fire he started, and steadily drinking Remy's liquor. You approached him as Laura was leaving his side. Even though you were still invisible, she seemed to know you were there, and walked around you.
You stayed a few feet behind him, watching him frown into the fire.
"I know you're there," Logan called out, turning to look over his shoulder. "You were never good at hiding from me."
You let yourself go visible before you continued to walk towards him. "My Logan didn't really give a shit about me, so I guess he knew where to find me, he just didn't care," you observed with a sigh. Having this Logan around was only showing you what you had missed out on in your universe with your Logan. You reached out to grab the bottle from Logan before taking a drink and handing it back. "You know, I wanted nothing more than for him to love me back. But I wasn't enough for him. And he knew, he knew everything I felt for him, but he never felt the same. I was just someone to warm his bed while his thoughts were with someone else."
Logan was quiet for a few moments before he held the bottle back out to you.
"You've made it clear you're not my wife," he started, keeping his gaze on the fire. "But I don't think you get that I'm not him. I see you and, God, I wish I could keep you safe. I wasn't able to save her. I wasn't able to save any of them and it's my fault my team, my family, my wife are all gone. I walked away and they died because of it," he admitted and you could see a tear begin to slip down his cheek. You had never seen your Logan so vulnerable and you didn't know what to do with this one. "I don't want to lose you again. I know you're not her, but I don't want to walk away and know that you died because of it."
"Then don't walk away," you whispered, moving until you were right beside him. You could feel the heat emanating off him and it sent a shiver down your spine. You had felt the chilling sense of isolation for so long that feeling Logan again felt like you were coming back to life.
"I know I wasn't happy to see you," you allowed with a grimace. "But since you got here, you've done nothing but remind me that I could have had what I wanted all along, but I was stuck in the wrong damn universe. And maybe it was possible for my Logan to love me all along and I just wasn't enough."
"Your Logan is a fucking idiot," he growled, finally looking at you. "You're here in this shithole because of him and you're ready to sacrifice yourself for someone you don't even know. He was the one who wasn't good enough. I guess I'm more like him than I would want to be."
You took a chance and reached out to grab Logan's hand. You were both grieving different people and you knew you weren't his wife, but you wanted to offer him comfort all the same. You also couldn't deny that the feeling of Logan's hand in yours felt like a balm for the pain you had been carrying around since falling into the Void.
His hand tightened around yours and you saw some of the tension leave his shoulders.
"You're enough, Logan," you assured him. "And I believe in you," you confessed. "You don't have to go tomorrow, but I'm going to be there. And if this is the last moment I ever get with you, then there's one thing I want to do."
Logan furrowed his brow in confusion before his expression smoothed out into surprise. You had leaned forward, just barely letting your lips brush his, waiting for him to either lean in or push you away.
You waited for a beat longer, sure you were making an idiot of yourself, before you felt Logan's hand at your hip. He pulled you closer, practically into his lap, as he returned the kiss. It was passionate and tender and in turns aggressive and searching. His tongue was twined around yours and his teeth were nipping at your lips and your head was beginning to spin from the rush. Logan let out a whimper and his hand clutched your hip tighter, and you knew you were going to have a bruise there by the next morning, but you didn’t mind that there would be a reminder of this moment.
You reluctantly pulled away, meeting his eyes and noticing how Logan looked like he was ready to drag you back into another kiss.
"Thank you," you whispered, reaching up a hand to brush your thumb over his bottom lip. You let it drag down briefly and leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to it. Your Logan had been rough and demanding and uncaring, but the love and want this Logan had poured into the kiss had shown you what it would have been like for the love of your life to love you back. Maybe, with that memory, your death the next day would be a little sweeter.
"Y/N," Logan started, but didn't continue.
You offered him a sad smile and started to stand. "I should try to sleep. I've got a big day tomorrow."
You moved to leave, but Logan reached out and grabbed your hand. He reeled you back towards him, causing you to drop down into his lap, but he caught you by the hips. He wrapped his arms around your waist and trailed his hand up your back before it was resting against the back of your neck. He pulled you down into another kiss, this one just as intense, but less frenzied. Logan kept you in place with just the slightest pressure of his hand on your neck and you let him pour everything he had into it.
By the time you pulled away, you were breathless and speechless, reluctant to leave now that you had another taste of him.
"I'll see you in the morning," Logan promised, finally releasing you from his hold.
It took you while to shake off your daze, but then you realized what he was telling you.
You felt a smile tug at your lips before you got off his lap.
"See you in the morning," you agreed before leaving Logan in search of your bed.
The drive in the Honda Odyssey was cramped, but Wade insisted if it could house an all-night brawl between a Deadpool and a Wolverine, then it would hold the rest of you just fine all the way to Cassandra's lair. And then he started spouting off something about safety features and cup holders and you started to wonder if following his plan had been the dumbest thing you had ever done.
You found yourself sneaking glances at Logan at the rear of the car. He was watching you the whole time and every time your eyes met, a little spark of heat shot through you. Maybe he wasn't your Logan, but he had helped you begin to heal all the same. And now you were starting to fall for an entirely different Logan who was likely leaving the Void while you stayed behind and died to get him out.
Life had never been fair to you, but you hated that it was downright cruel to you as well.
By the time you were arriving at Cassandra’s, you were starting to wonder if there had ever been a happy ending for you in store or if it was just supposed to be one tragedy after another.
You lined up with the others as you faced down Cassandra's henchmen. You could see Azazel popping in and out of view and Psylocke trailing through the crowd. Juggernaut was staring down the group while Toad perched high above, a smirk on his face. There were dozens of them and you had no idea how you were going to pull it off, but even if you did die, at least it was to save someone's universe, even if it wasn't your own.
"You know how long I've been waiting for this? Ooohuee, I'm about to make a name for myself here," Remy boasted, eagerly bouncing on his feet while he began to charge a card.
"I don't think any of you walk away from this," Logan pointed out, sending a quick glance your way.
"You just make sure they know what happened here today," Remy continued, not seeming to care that he was staring death right in the face.
"We'll watch your six," Blade told Logan and Wade. "You get up there and we'll get you that helmet."
Before he could follow Wade, Logan turned to you and pulled you close. He pressed a kiss to your lips, one full of longing and grief. "I don't want to leave you," he murmured into the kiss.
You pulled back to meet his eyes, ignoring the fact that you felt like you were losing him all over again. "What you're fighting for is more important," you told him. "Maybe we'll meet again in another universe."
"Maybe," he agreed before kissing you again.
This one was brief, but it left you wanting more.
You watched Logan follow Wade before you were caught up in the fight between your friends and Cassandra's lackies.
The fight was terrifying, because the stakes were so high. You flickered in and out of visibility as needed and used your forcefields to protect your friends or attack your enemies. You used a forcefield to gather rocks and then propelled it into someone just to turn invisible to avoid someone's knife.
You were exhausted as the battle waged on and you knew that circumstances were beginning to look dire for you and your friends. Most of you were hurt and bleeding, and the fight was beginning to drain out of you.
You got distracted by Laura taking Juggernaut out and managing to get his helmet up to where Logan and Wade were no doubt dealing with Cassandra despite Psylocke intervening. You moved towards them, but you felt a searing pain in your side and you looked down to see the end of Azazel’s tail sticking through your flesh.
He jerked you back towards him and a blade sliced through his tail, freeing you. You were quick to form a forcefield around Azazel before he could escape and you began to press in on the sides, shrinking it down so he had nowhere to go. You could see him trying to teleport out, but it wasn’t working, and a look of panic flashed across his face.
You kept pressing in until his skin started to split and blood began to pour. All at once, you swept the sides in, watching as Azazel was crushed. You let the forcefield go and watched as his remains fell to the ground with a splat.
“You squashed him like a bug,” Eric observed with a nod of his head, cleaning Azazel’s blood off his blade. “Impressive.”
“Thanks,” you smiled at Blade, glancing down at the gash in your side.
“Keep your head,” he warned you just as someone rushed at you. You went invisible and stepped to the side, letting them impale themselves on Eric’s sword.
The battle took twists and turns, but after getting stabbed in the shoulder and nearly losing consciousness when someone hit you on the back of the head, you realized that the bodies were starting to drop, but your friends were still standing.
You figured your victory would be short-lived when the skies began to darken and Alioth showed on the horizon.
“He’s looking for a meal,” Elektra grunted, avoiding a hit to the side before using one of her twin sais to bring someone to their knees. She finished them off with a strike to their neck before she turned to look at the rest of you. “We need to get the hell out of here.”
You were distracted by a portal opening up in the air above you and you looked up in time to see Logan and Wade jumping through it.
Someone grabbed your arm and you instinctively moved to hit them, but you realized it was Elektra.
"Come on!" She yelled over the roar of Alioth and pulled you to cover inside Cassandra's lair.
"That was a close one," Remy said as he helped Blade into the makeshift shelter.
"But they got away," Laura pointed out with a small, satisfied smile.
"And we got to kill the fuckers that've been making our lives hell," Remy added with a grin. "Any of you see that one trick I pulled? I got the cards charged up and then guy went boom."
He looked so pleased with himself that you couldn’t stop the helpless little laugh you let out. The past few days had felt absurd and surreal, and you couldn’t even tell if it was all some fever dream. Maybe Remy had spiked his liquor to keep unsuspecting people out of it and you were currently back in the hideout, riding out one terrifying trip.
But when you twisted to the side, you felt like your side was splitting open all over again and you let out a gasp. Elektra knelt at your side, studying your wound with a frown.
"So, what happens now? Are we just stuck here until we know it's clear? We go back to our hideout and wait forever? Half of us need some kind of medical attention,” she pointed out, searching around her until she found a discarded jacket. She pressed it against your side and you let out a hiss of pain.
"Well, we didn't die, so at least there’s that," you offered with a shrug of your shoulders. "I figure we've earned some retirement. Even if we're still stuck here," you allowed with a wince as you pressed a hand to your shoulder. The wound was deep and still bleeding, but you figured you had suffered worse before. You were going to need stitches and painkillers and some more of Remy’s liquor, but at least you were still breathing.
You weren't sure how long you waited for the storm to pass, but by the time you got back outside, it was already dark. Most of the bodies were gone, consumed by Alioth, and you leaned into Elektra’s side as she helped you navigate the various body parts left behind.
"Think the car will make it back?" Remy wondered, surveying the Odyssey with its crushed sides and flat tires. It was practically drenched in blood and viscera, nearly indistinguishable as a vehicle.
"Why don't you start it up and see?" Eric prompted, looking at Gambit like he thought he was a special kind of stupid. “Maybe we can ride one of your little cards back to the hideout. How far can you throw them?”
"That won't be necessary," a voice interrupted, startling you.
A portal had opened up to your left and a woman had walked through it. She had soldiers behind her who were wearing uniforms with a TVA logo stamped on the right arm.
"Wade Wilson struck a deal for all of you," the woman continued, surveying the group. "It's time for all of you to go home."
“Home?” Remy repeated with a skeptical look at the rest of you. “What if we don’t have a home?”
“Then wherever you’d like to be,” she amended. “With conditions, of course.”
It turned out that Wade and Logan not only saved Wade's universe, but every universe. Cassandra had wanted nothing to exist except for the Void where she reigned and both of them had managed to stop her.
You never considered that your fight with Cassandra’s minions wound end with anything except for your death. You certainly never thought you would have the option to leave the Void.
You definitely didn't want to return home, so you asked if you could stay in Wade's universe. Logan and Laura had opted to stay as well and since your variant had never been born in Wade’s universe, you were welcome to stay. It felt like you were getting the opportunity to carve out the kind of life you wanted all along. One where you knew you would be welcome and wanted without fearing that you would be abandoned for someone else.
Now, you were sitting around a table with Wade's family and the beginnings of a new one for you. Laura was sitting to your left and Logan to your right and you couldn't help but feel like this was where you had belonged all along.
Logan had admitted that he wasn't allowed to try to save the people in his universe, but he wanted to be whatever you needed or wanted him to be in your new one. You knew that was a daunting order for someone like Logan, so you settled for telling him that you wanted to start at the beginning.
You wanted to get to know this Logan, because even though you already loved him, you knew that you wanted a clean slate. One where you weren’t comparing him to your universe’s Logan and one where you gave him every opportunity to show you that he was better. You also didn’t want him to just see the ghost of his wife in you, so you wanted him to get to know you.
You soaked up the love and laughter that flowed through the room and met Logan's gaze. You weren't even surprised to see that he was already watching you. You reached out to grab his hand, delighting in the way he immediately welcomed your touch.
You no longer felt forgotten and hopeless. Everything you had yearned for, fought for, in your old life had quite literally dropped right into your new one and you couldn't have been more grateful for another shot at happiness.
From the way Logan smiled at you and brought your hand up to kiss the back of it, you knew he was just as appreciative at the opportunity to turn his life back around.
"Thank you," you whispered to him, leaning over to rest your head on his shoulder.
"Nothing to thank me for," he answered before dropping another kiss on the crowd of your head.
You wanted to argue with him and tell him that he had saved you, but you figured you would tell him later. For now, you were going to enjoy the feeling of belonging you felt and look forward to the fact that there would be a later with Logan.
Edited To Add: I am writing a sequel! It's going to involve Cable (even though he didn't test well) and Logan getting payback on reader's original Wolverine on her behalf and a whole bunch of other fun surprises!! If you want to be tagged, just let me know!
The sequel is HERE for anyone interested!
This is now a whole series! Main post for the series is HERE.
#deadpool and wolverine#wolverine x reader#logan x reader#deadpool#wolverine#reader insert#marvel#marvel imagine#logan#logan howlett imagine#logan howlett#wolverine imagine#x men#my fic#x reader#imagine#marvel x reader#spoilers#when i'm with you i'm home 'verse
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Swarm
Twst timeloop au
"Hey Deucy, don’t ya think the butterflies like Yuu a bit too much? No, scratch that—they’re totally borderline obsessed."
Deuce could only glance in the direction his companion was nodding at, curiosity tugging at him. There, in the distance of the Heartslabyul garden, stood Yuu, butterflies dancing around them in an elegant choreography. Some perched atop their head, while others rested on the blades of their shoulders.
It was almost beautiful—if not for the fact that it somehow reminded Deuce of how flies desperately clung to rotting organic trash in the dumpsite he and his old (former) friends used to hang around.
He coughed into his palm, composing himself.
‘How morbid,’ he thought.
"Maybe it’s their perfume or something."
"...Do you really think our dear I-don’t-have-budget-to-buy-a-toothbrush Prefect has the luxury to buy perfume? Let alone one that attracts butterflies like crazy?"
Touché.
The two continued their playful banter as they set up tables for the upcoming Unbirthday Party. They were so caught up in their verbal sparring that they didn’t notice two upperclassmen approaching.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa! If it isn’t the Adeuce duo working hard! Didn’t know you two were on duty today. Lemme guess—you made Riddle mad again, huh?" Cater flashed a grin, positioning his phone before snapping a quick picture of the pair. "There. For documentation—proof of your hard work to show Dormhead!"
"Hey!—"
"At least warn us before you take a picture!"
Trey sighed, watching the three of them bicker. "Don’t bully the freshmen too much, Cater."
"Speaking of freshies, where’s Yuu? I thought I heard Grimmy’s voice earlier while passing by."
"Oh, Yuu? They’re over there." Ace lazily gestured toward the school’s Prefect. "They’re kinda... out of it right now, so I wouldn’t get too close if I were you," he added, trying (and failing) to suppress the worry in his voice.
"Out of it?" Trey repeated, frowning.
Four pairs of eyes turned toward the figure in the distance. Yuu stood eerily still, like a statue, their eyes devoid of emotion as they gazed into the horizon. They seemed utterly unfazed by the butterflies swarming around them.
"Wow, ain’t that a Magicam-able sight," Cater murmured. "Yuu-chan really is a butterfly whisperer, huh?"
"I knew they had an affinity for butterflies, but never this extreme," Trey mused, cupping his chin as he recalled past encounters with the Prefect. Ever since he’d met Yuu, there had always been a butterfly or two flitting nearby. His first memory of it was when Yuu and the freshmen duo had returned from the Botanical Garden.
Trey’s brow quirked as he noticed two butterflies circling the Prefect. "Looks like you’ve got a new companion," he’d joked back then.
Yuu had given a grim smile, shrugging tiredly. "Seems like it," they’d said.
Even now, Trey remembered the peculiar look in their eyes. Yuu always had that expression—their smiles never reaching their blank, dead-fish eyes.
"Stupid bugs!" Grim had complained that day, pumping his paws in frustration. "These dumb things have been following my henchman ever since we came back from the mines! I thought we lost ’em, but the moment my henchman stepped into the Botanical Garden, more of them showed up!"
Ever since Riddle’s overblot, more and more butterflies seemed to flock to Yuu. Now, whenever the Prefect stood still in an open space, a swarm of butterflies would gather, their numbers growing the longer Yuu remained stationary.
Like flies buzzing around a rotting cor—
"What’s with all this commotion?!" a familiar voice barked, cutting through Trey's thoughts. "I’d appreciate it if the four of you finished your tasks instead of loitering. Especially you two dimwits who skipped cleaning duty yesterday."
"GAH!"
"D-Dormhead!"
"Riddle..." Trey muttered in surprise. The Heartslabyul Dormhead stood with his arms crossed, his gaze sharp and judgmental.
"Morning, Rids! We were just talking about our dear Prefect over there and the mystery of why the butterflies are crowding around them like a bunch of crazy paparazzi," Cater chimed in with his usual cheeky grin.
Riddle’s brows furrowed as he followed their line of sight. "My, there are more of them than usual," he remarked, his tone curious. "And all the same species..." he added, almost to himself, though the others heard him.
"Species?"
"Yes. I’ve been researching the insects attracted to Yuu. It’s been a personal curiosity of mine to figure out why they’re so drawn to them. At first, I thought it was due to sweat—"
"Sweat? That’s gross," Ace interrupted with a mock gag.
"Yes, sweat," Riddle repeated, unimpressed. "Some butterfly species are attracted to sodium, which is why they’re sometimes drawn to humans. But Yuu never seems to be sweating during these incidents. That led me to believe they might be secreting some sort of pheromone undetectable to humans. But when I asked a beastman—your friend Jack—he said he smelled nothing."
"Wow... you really did your research, huh," Deuce muttered, blinking in amazement.
"It’s hardly anything substantial. I’m still stumped as to why this phenomenon occurs. However, during one of my reading sessions, I came across something... surprising."
"Surprising? How so?"
"Did you know that some butterfly species—like the ones hovering around Yuu—are attracted to and feast on the fluids of decaying corpses?"
#twst yuu#twst yuu au#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#twst imagines#twst timeloop au#riddle rosehearts#ace trappola#deuce spade#trey clover#cater diamond#twst au#twst#what the fuck#DID I COOK???
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Current brainrot:
Tw: nsfw heavy smut, Dom!Choso, a hint of Yandere!Choso- MDNI
Choso having you doggy on your bed, a mix of your sticky juices dripping down and staining your pink Pucca sheets, right above the print where the cute little girl is pecking Garu's flushed cheek.
He's fucking your poor abused hole incredibly hard and fast once again, lost in the haze of the gummy resistance provided by your slick walls. He's eager, his hands grab your waist harshly (no doubts purplish bruises will pop out of nowhere in that same spot the next morning), forcing you to push your plushy ass further up in the air, in search of that perfect angle that allows his fat, girthy cock to reach deeper, so deep to be screwing the very essence of your soul. He loves how tight you feel in this position, basically folded in half and impaled by his ruthless dick....a maddening sensation for Cho, who simply becomes a beast whenever he's offered the opportunity to ruin you like this... You were ruined for everyone else now and the thought alone makes his head spin, a rush of possessiveness heading straight to his cock. It's just after he has completed his masterpiece, almost breaking your little cunt for good and flooding it with a torrent of his thick seed, that he feels a pang of guilt: his heart clenches sightly with tender affection at the sight of your spent body, collapsed onto the mattress among all of those cute illustrations on your bedding and still convulsing from your high. You look so sweet,just out of a cartoon, so fragile, so submitted to him...
He delicately runs his strong, big hands up and down the curve of your ass, silently admiring the oh so filthy way his cum oozes out of your pulsating entrance with heart-shaped pupils
"Mine..." He muses to himself.
#dreamingkitsunewrites✰#don't mind me please#this is literally written with my pussy before going to sleep#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#jjk smut#choso#choso kamo#choso my beloved#choso smut#dom!choso#choso x reader#choso kamo x reader#jjk choso#jujutsu choso#yandere#yandere!choso
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sacred monsters: part four

pairing: lee heeseung x f reader
genre: academic rivals to lovers, vampire au, slow burn
part four word count: 15.8k
part four warnings: swearing, more blood and other vampire-y things, dark themes, descriptions of past abuse (non-explicit), even MORE tragic backstories, a little sexiness
soundtrack: still monster / moonstruck / lucifer - enhypen / everybody wants to rule the world - tears for fears / immortal - marina / supermassive black hole - muse / saturn - sleeping at last / everybody’s watching me (uh oh) - the neighbourhood
note/disclaimer: EVERYONE DOUBTED ME. I DOUBTED MYSELF. BUT DESPITE IT ALLLLLLL HERE IS PART FOUR!!!!!!! Enjoy my friends, and then tell me about it! As always, happy reading ♡
⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖
A literature student in your third year of university, you’ve been dreaming of having your writing published for as long as you can remember. With a perfect opportunity dangling at your fingertips, the only obstacle that stands in your way comes in the form of a ridiculously tall, stupidly handsome, and unfortunately, very talented writer by the name of Lee Heeseung. Unwilling to let your dream slip out of reach, you commit to being better than the aforementioned pain in your ass at absolutely everything.
But when a string of vampire attacks strikes close to your city for the first time in nearly two hundred years, publishing is suddenly the last thing on your mind. And, as you soon begin to discover, Heeseung may not quite be the person you thought he was.
⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖
When you wake up, it’s with a pounding headache and a deep wave of something that almost tastes like regret.
Through the jumble of your sleep-addled mind, it takes you a few moments to locate the source of that uneasy feeling. But as soon as you do, it washes over you in a sweeping tide of sensation.
Images, sounds, tastes. Feelings.
You’re lying in your bed. Alone. But your mind isn’t convinced of it.
For long, heavy moments, if you screw your eyes shut tightly enough, you’re somewhere else entirely.
Notches of your spine pressed against the expanse of a wall. Long fingers, ones that don’t belong to you, toying with the hem of your shirt. Tracing the skin beneath your ribs.
Sighs that you swallow. Lips pressed against your own. Teeth.
Desperate, heady, sordid.
A brief stinging sensation. The faint, metallic taste of blood.
The breathy pleas that follow.
All at once, all over again, you’re lost in it. Drowning in it. Consumed by it.
It’s a ghost of the real thing, a mere shadow in comparison. But you’re aching with it just the same.
Through the muddle in your mind, you barely remember getting home.
Footsteps and movement and other mundane details are lost to memories of a much headier nature.
Lips against yours in the cover of darkness outside your apartment door. Fervent whispers of words that sound like “Bad idea” and “Not tonight.”
But still. He followed you in. Or at least you think he did. There’s far too much room for error in the recesses of your clouded memory.
It feels real, though. The recollection of gentle fingers in your hair. Soothing this time. With the intent to calm, subdue. Creating distance from desperation instead of adding to it.
The slow press of lips that you wish you had more time to become familiar with. Against your temple this time, the bridge of your nose, the swell of your cheekbone.
And a final, quiet command.
“Sleep,” he’d insisted.
And you hadn’t wanted to, not really. But no matter how many encounters you’ve had with immortality, you’re still woefully confined to the constraints of your humanity. And exhaustion still has clutches you can’t escape.
Eyelids flickering, unconsciousness sang to you like a siren song until you were unable to resist its lull any longer.
And there had been no promises between the two of you, but waking up alone was not what you expected.
It’s undeniable though, even as you sit up, sheets tangling around your hips. You’re still wearing the same clothes as yesterday. They’re wrinkled – a result of fervent ministrations and a long night of sleep disturbed only by strikingly vivid dreams.
But even though small remnants of his presence remain, your room is empty, save for you.
Rolling your neck in a slow circle, you wince at the stiffness, the tinge of pain you feel as it crosses above your left shoulder.
The rest of your body carries a similar heaviness. As you ease your way out of bed, your limbs feel tight, stiff, overworked.
Still, you force your feet to carry you to the space outside your bedroom. If you’re honest, part of you is hoping that you’ll find him waiting for you there. But as your eyes trace over the expanse of your apartment, your stomach sinks with disappointment.
Empty. Just like your bedroom.
It’s not enough to make you panic. Not yet. There are a thousand possible explanations for his absence. Before you start to decide which one is most likely, a knock echoes against your front door.
And it’s almost embarrassing, the speed at which you cross your living room.
But you can’t swallow the immediate sense of relief you feel. Coupled with a sudden swoop that reaches all the way to the pit of your stomach.
Because he’s here. He’s here and it’s real and the surge of butterflies is enough to have you forgetting any potential complications.
You know he can hear your footsteps, can certainly tell that your heart has just begun to beat unnaturally fast, but you don’t care. Can’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed.
You wonder if he feels it too, this magnetic pull. It clutches at your heart with a soft touch and pulls at your mind like nostalgia. As if you’re a girl with a crush, writing the details of your affection in the secrecy of a diary and doodling hearts along the border.
You pause, hand on the doorknob. With your other hand, you flatten the top of your hair, self-consciously tucking a strand behind your ear.
It defies logic. After all, any remaining mussing is of his doing. But still, you can’t suppress the desire to have him see you at your best.
After one last deep breath, you twist the knob. A smile is already tugging at your lips, widening along with the door.
But when it opens fully, your lips fall flat. It’s not Heeseung that stands on the other side.
From where he lingers in the doorframe, Jake scratches at the back of his neck rather awkwardly, avoiding eye contact.
“Jake?” Disappointment colors your voice in obvious strokes. You might feel bad about it if you weren’t so confused.
“Hey, ___,” he returns. His exhale almost sounds like an apology and it has your stomach swooping again. This time in trepidation. Anxiety. “Can I come in?”
“Is he okay?” It’s probably rude, the way you ignore his question entirely. But suddenly, it’s all you can think of. Why is Jake here? Avoiding your gaze and already sounding regretful.
“Heeseung’s fine,” Jake assures. Your brow furrows. He’s fine, but he’s not here. You can’t decide if that inspires relief or something far more unpleasant.
The silence extends for a moment. Jake doesn’t offer any additional explanation. Instead, he requests again, “I have something to ask you, but it would probably be better in private.”
“Right,” you nod, forcing the unease in your gut away. “Would you like to come in?”
Jake smiles, a tight thing, before stepping inside wordlessly. When you shut the door behind him, you keep your back turned for a moment. Inhaling deeply, you try to regain a bit of control over your mounting emotions before turning to face him.
Jake has already made his way to your couch. Instantly, you're reminded of when another guest of yours did the same. It’s almost enough to send you spiraling again.
Jake, unaware of your inner thoughts, doesn’t let you linger in them for long. Instead he motions to the seat opposite of him. “Come sit.”
You frown, still fraught with nerves. Jake sounds far too serious for this conversation to be anything but unpleasant. Following his request, you slide down into the chair across from him.
Once you’re seated, he doesn’t waste any time. “If you’re feeling up to it, I’ve got an errand for us today.”
Raising your brow, you wordlessly urge him to elaborate.
Jake reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small, metal object. It takes a moment for you to recognize it, but once you do, your stomach only sinks further.
It’s a key. The key. The same one you found last night. Along with someone whose absence is still very much unexplained.
Jake looks at you, but your gaze is still trained on the object in his hand. “How do you feel about a return trip to New Haven?”
New Haven. You can hardly process his question, much less answer it.
Because they were together. Heeseung gave the key to Jake. Intentionally passed it along to him. And despite all of the possible explanations, you can only fixate on one.
He’s avoiding you.
You don't say anything, but Jake reads your expression all the same. Gently, he sets the key on the table between the two of you. Again, he sighs. It’s an apologetic sound, and you hate it.
A beat passes. Two. He doesn’t beat around the bush. “Something happened between you two, didn’t it?”
You don’t answer. At least not with words. But the way your eyes widen is confirmation enough.
“I—” You can’t decide if lying would serve you any good here. Ultimately, you decide to stick with the truth. You have too many unanswered questions to play any games. “How did you know?”
Jake smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “After five hundred years, you kind of just… know.” He pauses for a moment, weighing his words. And then he adds, “You don’t have to tell me, of course. But you can. If you want to.”
You can’t think of anything you’d rather do less. It’s illogical and frivolous and entirely human, but you’re embarrassed. The things that passed between the two of you hold weight in your mind. Significance. Importance.
And now he’s deliberately avoiding you. You can’t help but feel slighted. Played. Used, even. Your voice is small when you ask, “Did he say anything?”
Jake shakes his head. “He’s been pretty silent. Even more so than usual.”
You don’t want to tell him. You don’t. But answers are still lingering far beyond your reach. Jake might not be privy to the details of your affection, but he does know Heeseung like the back of his hand.
With a deep exhale, you push your pride to the side.
“We…” you trail off, searching for the right words. Something that won’t feel too invasive, too intimate to share. “We had a… moment. And I thought— well,” you frown, suddenly unaware of your own expectations, “I guess I didn't know what I thought. But I didn’t expect him to avoid me.”
“Ah,” Jake enunciates carefully. “That would explain why he’s been so moody today.” He nods to himself, pausing briefly before adding, “It’s not because of you.”
You just give him a look, obviously disbelieving.
“I mean, it’s not because of you specifically,” Jake clarifies. “It’s… a bit difficult to explain. Heeseung is…” he trails off, searching for the right words. “guarded, as I’m sure you can tell. He’s quiet, reserved. He keeps a lot of himself locked up in his own head, and he ruminates on everything. Predicts a million terrible outcomes of every situation and fixates on them until he’s convinced himself that everything will end in flames.”
“So a raging pessimist, essentially.”
“Maybe,” Jake pauses. “But I think that you have to consider his perspective, too. That’s the thing about immortality. It’s… lonely. Often unbearably so. We all deal with that in our own ways. Sunghoon and his bed are one extreme end of that. Heeseung’s the other.”
You frown. He’s skirting around the edges. Hinting at something without fully saying it and you’re tired of guessing.
Jake sighs. “I won’t pretend to know everything that’s happened between you, but Heeseung’s not just acting irrationally.”
Your brow furrows. “What does that mean?”
“I…” This time it’s Jake that hesitates. A struggle plays out across his features, as if he can’t decide whether this story is one he should share. Finally, he exhales. “It’s not really my story to tell. But Jungwon had a similar situation, I guess you could say. We had only been changed for around twenty years when he met this girl. It was purely by chance. And it was completely innocent at first. She was an apprentice at the tailor shop in the town we were living in. A human one.”
Your stomach is sinking with every word. The story has barely begun, but you call tell from the tension in Jake’s expression that it doesn’t have a happy ending.
“He never intended for anything to happen, but he met her once and then he kept going back. It wasn’t intentional, but things spiraled from there. Until he was in far too deep.”
Jake is sparing plenty of details, but even the vague picture he paints is enough to have the unpleasant feeling solidifying in your gut.
“And there was nothing dramatic, really. No big fight or fall out.” Jake sighs. “But she got older. And he didn’t. For the time they had, they made each other happy. In a lot of ways, they were perfect for each other. Except for in the one way that mattered.”
His immortality. Her humanity. Jake doesn’t say it, but the truth is there all the same.
“Their love fell apart in a quiet way. Slowly, steadily. Five years had passed, and Jungwon looked the same. She started getting suspicious. He was running out of excuses and had to cut contact just to keep us all safe.”
A part of your heart breaks for him, for the love that he lost, for the circumstances that were always going to dangle just outside of his reach.
“He couldn’t help it, though. He kept tabs on her. And she did what every human does. She nursed her broken heart, and then she moved on. She fell in love and found a family. Including a daughter.
“But for Jungwon… It broke him. For almost two hundred years, he felt like a shell of himself. And we all watched it happen, but I think it hit Heeseung the hardest. Out of all of us, he was always the romantic, although you’d never guess that now.”
Jake smiles wryly and the dread in your stomach hardens into a rock.
“He might not have to hide what he is from you, but that will only buy you so much time.” Jake meets your eye, imploring you to understand. “No matter what happens between the two of you, you’ll always have something he doesn’t: the ability to move on. To forget. To find someone that fits into your life in all the right ways. He’ll never have that, no matter what he wants. No matter what he feels.”
Jake’s gaze settles on the side of your neck. The bite has already begun to fade, scar tissue covering what was once an angry red wound.
“And he’s already led to you getting injured once. I can’t imagine the kind of guilt he’s probably feeling over that.”
You’re quick to protest. “But that wasn’t his fault—”
“It doesn’t matter.” Jake shakes his head. “That’s how he sees it.”
Lips tightening, you search for holes to poke in his logic. “Isn’t it better to take that risk? You can’t avoid a chance at happiness just because you’re worried it will lead to sorrow in the future.”
“That’s a nice perspective,” Jake agrees. “But it’s a human one. If you want to understand him, you have to consider what it’s like for him. His regrets and sorrows aren’t like yours. They don’t have an end date. They’ll live forever, just like him.”
“But so will the good memories—”
“No.” Jake shakes his head. “They won’t. Time will warp them, eat at them, until the good memories hurt just as bad as the awful ones. Maybe even worse.”
You flinch as if you’ve been scolded. Jake’s features soften. “I don’t expect you to understand. And I know he doesn’t either. He doesn’t expect your understanding or patience or forgiveness. He wouldn’t ask that of you, because he knows it’s not fair. Because he knows that it’s different for you.”
It’s selfless. It’s considerate.
You hate it regardless.
Carefully, Jake adds a final suggestion, “For you and him, for the sake of your own peace, it might be best for you to do the same.”
His words settle heavily into the air.
Do the same. It’s vague enough to be open to interpretation, but no matter how you warp it, there’s always one striking similarity.
Jake is encouraging you to move on, to forget about last night and everything that led to it. To let memories fade and moments die before they can grow into anything stronger.
And in the grand scheme of things, even in your limited mortal lifespan, it really hasn’t been that long. The first time you saw Heeseung was only a handful of months ago, and the taste of his name was bitter on your tongue for the majority of it.
There have been so many versions of him. A rival classmate. A pesky annoyance. A savior. A guardian. A lover.
A vampire.
You don’t know him. Not really. You’ve seen parts of him, and the remaining pieces feel like something that would be all too easy to want. To love, even.
And maybe Jake is right. He has the advantage of perspective. He’s seen history unfold and recognizes the patterns. He’s terrified that tragedy will repeat itself.
But it doesn’t make it any easier – the thought of letting him go.
Your feelings might be mortal. Your days may be limited, but that doesn’t make them any less significant.
Amidst all the uncertainty, you know one thing for sure. It’s not a conversation with Jake that will give you any kind of closure, that will lead to any final decision.
You need to talk to him. To Heeseung. Need to hear his thoughts and fears and desires in his own words. Need him to listen to yours.
You’re not sure how to go about it. If he’s hellbent on avoiding you, there’s little you can do.
But there must be something. Some way of getting to him.
Before you have long to linger on it, another knock sounds against your door. It’s much sharper, more urgent than Jake’s was.
Immediately, your eyes flicker to the vampire across from you, widening in surprise.
Jake just sighs, shaking his head slightly. “I apologize in advance.”
Although slightly cryptic, it’s confirmation that whoever is on the other side poses no threat. Slowly, you stand, making your way back to your front door.
Opening it, you find five overeager faces crowded in your doorframe.
“Morning, ___,” Sunoo beams. “Hope you slept well.”
“I don’t know,” Niki whispers, “Those look like some pretty serious dark circles.”
“Dude,” Sunghoon elbows him. “You can’t just say that.”
“Yeah,” Jay nods. “That’s super rude.” Turning to you, he gives you a wide smile. “You look great, ___. Not tired at all.”
In the center of them all, Jungwon just sighs. “Sorry to intrude like this.” Sheepishly, he rubs the back of his neck. “Is there any chance you could invite us in?”
Two minutes later, the sight that greets you would be enough to make you laugh out loud if the surrounding circumstances weren’t so dire.
Your couch is far too small for the five vampires crowded onto it, elbows flying into ribs every time someone adjusts too far in one direction. Next to the chaos, Jungwon leans against the arm of the couch, eyes trained on you.
His gaze feels assessing, almost. As if he’s trying to decipher the events of the previous day. Under his scrutiny, you do your best not to flush.
From his seat at the far end on the couch, Jake’s lips pull into a flat line as another scooch sends him squished up even further against the armrest. “What are you all doing here?”
Jay smiles, nodding at you. “We came to check on our favorite human, of course.”
“We heard you even snuck into your evil professor’s secret lair.” Sunghoon adds, nodding appreciatively. “Badass.”
“Plus we had to get out of the house.” Niki grimaces. “Heeseung is still in one of his moods.”
Despite yourself, you can’t quite help the expression that crosses your features as soon as his name is mentioned.
As if that weren’t mortifying enough on its own, of course all six of them pick up on it.
“Don’t worry about him,” Sunghoon waves his hand dismissively, entirely unaware of why you’re so affected by the sound of his name. “Being in a mood is just a regular Tuesday for Heeseung.”
“Speak for yourself,” Jay shudders, clutching at his neck. “When I mentioned that Jake was planning to go with ___ to New Haven so she could go back into the secret evil jail, I thought he was actually gonna throttle me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so–”
“Anyway,” Jungwon interjects. He might not have been privy to your conversation with Jake, but he is a bit better at picking up on the subtleties. “We did want to form a plan for your return to New Haven. I apologize for the sudden intrusion, but since you and Jake were already here, we thought this might be the best place for all of us to talk.”
Jungwon’s words barely register. He’s there. Heeseung is at their shared home. Of course he is. It makes sense. It’s the most likely place for him to be.
But he’s there. They’ve all seen him. Talked to him. And now they’ve come here without him.
“Right,” you nod, forcing a tight smile. “Well, we have the key from the professor’s university office now. And we don’t know for sure, but it just might open the chest I found last time at New Haven. As soon as we know that the professor is away from the building, I think we need to return and try to open it as soon as possible.”
The thought of going back into that place fills you with a distinct sort of dread, but you need answers. You all do.
Jungwon nods thoughtfully. “We can do that. We’ll get eyes on him first and establish a warning system for you and Jake.” Reaching into his back, he pulls out a pair of walkie talkies. “Heeseung also mentioned that there’s no cell service down there. The two of you can use these so that you’re not going in blind.”
Reaching forward, you take them from his outstretched hand. “These will be perfect,” you agree.
“And ___,” Jungwon adds, suddenly serious. “Thank you. Truly. We know that none of this has been easy.” Five heads nod in near perfect unison. “But what you’re doing will save lives. There was another attack last night–”
“What?” You can’t mask your shock.
“A few miles outside of the city,” Jungwon confirms, lips pulled in a tight line. “In an area we hadn’t been patrolling. There were two victims.” Jungwon pauses, his words weighing heavy in the air. “High school students.”
High school students. In recent weeks, death has become a familiar theme. But youth has it feeling brand new. You suddenly feel like crying.
High school students. Kids. Children with their whole lives ahead of them. Dreams and plans and goals for the future. All lost in one tragic, horrific moment.
Your heart hurts for their families, their classmates, their teachers. So many lives affected, changed, darkened.
Teenagers whose worries should have extended only to homework and exams and finding a date for the prom. Not becoming headline news in an ongoing series of tragedies.
Wait –
Headlines. News.
Frantically, your eyes flick towards the clock on your counter. Last night really did do a number on you. You slept well past mid morning. If your clock is accurate, it’s dangerous close to one in the afternoon. Ignoring the fact that you can’t remember the last time you slept so late, you return to the more urgent matter at hand.
Panicked, you turn to Jungwon. “We might have another problem. I’m supposed to have my first article for Professor Kim written in the next two hours. I don’t know if I–”
Jungwon shakes his head. “It’s already done.”
“What?” A confused frown pulls at your lips. “What do you mean? I haven’t written anything yet.”
Reaching for the bag he set down by his feet, Jungwon pulls out a small stack of papers. “He gave these to me this morning before we left,” he explains before handing them to you.
Wordlessly, you reach out, accepting them.
Fingers shaking slightly, your eyes trace the first handful of lines.
It’s jarring – there’s no other way to describe it.
You have no idea how he’s done it, but reading Heeseung’s writing feels a bit like looking into a mirror. It’s unsettling, just how easily he seems to be able to emulate you in his writing. If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought you wrote this yourself.
Everything is perfect, down to the last detail. Words you’ve been scolded by past professors for overusing are scattered throughout. Unique turns of phrases that are hallmarks of your style are intricately weaved between paragraphs.
And it only solidifies your determination.
You have to see him. You have to.
Writing has always felt like an extension of your soul, a physical manifestation of your very being. And anyone that can capture you this intimately, this intricately, is not someone you can just forget.
Jungwon, unaware of your inner turmoil, must mistake your silence for scrutiny. “Is it okay?” He asks, an edge of concern in his voice. “We still have some time, so if there’s anything you need to change–”
“No, it’s…” you trail off, unsure how to describe the writing in front of you. “It’s exactly what I would have written.
“Oh,” Jungwon nods. “Okay. Well… Good, then. I have the digital copy too. I’ll send it to you and you can pass it along to the professor.”
You nod, a bit numbly, still shaken by what you’ve just read, still brimming with the urge to confront Heeseung about it.
Logically, you know that your visit to New Haven can’t be delayed for something as selfish as this. People, lives, an entire city, are hinging on answers you might find hidden there, after all. But as soon as you’ve finished, you know what you’ll do next.
You decide, in your living room, surrounded by a group of six immortal beings, that it doesn’t matter if Heeseung has senses and skills for evasion that far outmatch yours. You will find a way to see him, to talk to him. You have to.
But then your gaze shifts, lands back on Jungwon. There’s a slight frown that pulls at his lips as he talks to the others, assigning patrol duties and discussing potential complications for your upcoming mission.
The longer your gaze lingers, the more you see it. The unmistakable weariness. Telltale signs of exhaustion. Jungwon might have lost the physical need for sleep, but the exhaustion that clings to him comes from a different source. And it runs deep.
All at once, you can’t help but wonder what Jungwon was like, all those centuries ago. Before he met her. The human girl Jake told you about less than an hour ago. You wonder if he still thinks of her now. You know he must.
You wonder if it hurts just as bad, if the sting is just as sharp every time. And that sends your thoughts spinning to a different, far more dangerous place.
In five hundred years, when the only memories of you that remain are left in these seven boys, you want them to remember you with fondness. The kind that aches with affection instead of regret.
If Heeseung wants to prevent an inevitable heartbreak, then you suppose you can’t blame him for it. But to you, his avoidance is cowardice. Distance won’t undo what’s already passed between you.
If he wants space, then so be it. You have a key in your hands and pressing matters to attend to. Heeseung will only stay hidden so long, and it’s best to do what you can in the meantime.
You owe it to them, to him, to everyone whose lives have been touched by recent tragedies, to do everything in your power to change the trajectory of current events.
So, with a new determination, you push Heeseung a little more firmly into the back corner of your mind, tucking all of the loose edges and pressing thoughts into a neat, tidy box to be revisited later.
Pulling out your phone, you open the digital version of the article Heeseung has written under your name. You give it one more once over, and it’s just as uncannily you as before.
Tucking away every feeling that inspires for later, you turn back to Jake.
“So,” you venture, eyeing him as he turns the key over between his fingers. “Are you ready to do this?”
…..
New Haven feels only slightly less ominous in full daylight. Although the remnants of winter still cling to the air like a bad omen you can’t quite shake, sunlight streams through the clouds with the steadiness of a sure thing.
At your side, Jake appears equally uncertain.
“Your professor has interesting taste.” It’s a joke, something meant to lighten the mood, but you hear the wariness all the same.
“Wait until you see the inside.”
Jake picks the lock with nearly as much ease as Heeseung had the night prior, and then the two of you are inside.
Despite his initial uncertainties, Jake handles the looming hallways and odd shadows of the publishing house rather well. Knowing that the other boys have eyes on your professor and are protecting you from afar helps to abate some of the anxiety, even if you still have to force away a handful of unpleasant memories that threaten to rise.
When the two of you reach Professor Kim’s office, you don’t bother to hesitate. By now, you know what you’ll find on the other side of the door.
Jake, however, does give a double take at the massive painting you and Heeseung put back into place just one short night ago.
Gauging his reaction in your periphery, you decide to play dumb.
“Is something wrong?”
Jake just takes another long look at the painting of the open field, filled with flowers. He tilts his head to the side, and for a moment, you think he rather resembles a curious puppy.
“No.” Jake shakes his head. “Sorry, I just…” He takes one final look at the painting. “That painting just looked weirdly familiar for a minute.”
“Celedis, right?” You turn to face the vampire. “I thought the same thing, but Heeseung said it’s slightly different. Something about the flowers.”
At that, Jake doesn’t bother to mask his shock. “He told you about Celedis?”
“Showed me, actually. You know,” you reach your arm out towards him. “With the whole physical contact astral projection thing.”
You’re about to ask Jake to help you move the painting, but he’s still stuck in the details you’ve just revealed.
Jaw nearly slack, he asks, “He showed you Celedis?”
“Yeah,” you frown. You didn’t realize this was new information. “I thought you knew. Back at your house, after I was attacked. He told me – er, showed me – about you guys.”
Remembering the water tower, you add, “And he’s used it, his ability, I mean, to show me other things about his past.” A memory surfaces, one of a young boy sneaking pastries from a medieval kitchen. Your heart gives a sudden lurch. “About Celedis.”
“Fuck, Heeseung.” Jake swears under his breath, but you hear it all the same.
“Was he not supposed to?” Despite your current feelings of frustration towards Heeseung, your intentions aren’t to get him in trouble or create any sort of rift between him and the others. Suddenly, you’re scrambling to backtrack. “It was really only a couple of things to help me understand, I promise. He would never compromise your safety or–”
“It’s not that.” Jake shakes his head, interrupting. “Heeseung just… his ability isn’t one he uses often.”
At that, your brow furrows. That strikes you as odd. All things considered, it seems like a rather useful gift that should have found several practical applications over the past five hundred odd years. “Why not?” you ask.
“It’s not…” Jake trails off, hesitating. Trying to decide how much he should share. “It’s not exactly something he takes pleasure in doing.”
Your brow creases further. That only leaves you with more questions than answers. You can’t remember him being particularly bothered either of the times he exercised his ability with you. “What do you mean?”
Again, Jake hesitates. His teeth worry at his bottom lip like that will prevent words from spilling out. “It’s not really my story to tell.”
“What story?” The corners of your lips pull downwards. “I don’t understand.”
For a moment, Jake just takes a long look at you. And then he sighs. “Heeseung explained Celedis to you?”
You nod.
“Including our origin story?” Jake pauses. “Our families?”
Again, you nod. “You were all nobles.”
Jake hums in agreement. “Yeah, we were. After peace was forged, the kingdom had to reorganize itself a bit. Our families were allies now, partners instead of enemies. Eventually, it was decided that each of our families would spearhead one sector of rulership, if you will.” Pausing for a moment, Jake gauges your reaction from his periphery. He asks, “Did he tell you about this?”
Deciding honesty will serve you best here, you shake your head.
Much to your gratefulness, Jake just sighs again. “My family primarily dealt with the management of food resources. My father tracked annual crop production, rainfall, resources allocation, things like that.”
“Okay…” you nod, trailing off. The picture he paints is a logical one, but you don’t see a connection to Heeseung’s strange supernatural ability yet.
Jake continues, “Heeseung’s father, on the other hand, always had a knack for strategy. It was decided that his family would be the de facto head of defense and protection of the kingdom. We were allies, but there was still worry that enemies from outside Celedis’ borders might arise. Although, his father’s methods were always a bit more… aggressive than you’d expect in peacetime.”
Frowning, it's hard to imagine. You suppose that hter may be sides to Heeseung you haven’t yet seen, but it’s difficult to think of him as anything but patient. Gentle. Hearing that his father was the complete opposite doesn’t sit well with you. Quietly, you wait for Jake to continue.
“Even though we kept aging until we were twenty-one, our abilities manifested when we were just kids. And Heeseung, at ten years old, did what any child would do when he suddenly realized he could project his consciousness through touch.” Jake sighs again. “He told his mother.”
The memory comes rushing back unbidden. Heeseung isn’t here to project any visions, but all of a sudden, you feel like you’re back in that field anyway. Watching silently, helpless, as a tiny version of Heeseung accidentally makes his friend ill after his ability manifests for the first time. All over again, your heart hurts for him. Too small to understand what was happening, too frightened to do anything but seek consultation from his mother.
“His father, of course,” Jake says, “eventually found out, too. And like any great strategist, he saw this newfound ability first and foremost as a tool. Heeseung wasn’t just a heir anymore. He was a weapon. And he was brought along to things no ten-year-old should have to see. War meetings, strategy sessions. Prisoner interrogations.” Jake’s eyes drop to the floor. “Torture, mutilation, executions. He was made to watch all of it.”
The small gasp you let out is involuntary.
Jake’s eyes find you again. “And then, afterwards, he was forced to relive it, over and over and over. His hand on top of his father’s, so that the kingdom’s leader of defense could analyze every detail. Construct the perfect strategies, devise the best methods for extracting information, for making others bend to his iron will.”
Your stomach rolls with a fresh wave of nausea.
Jake finishes with, “I’ve known Heeseung for five hundred years, and I can count on one hand the number of times he’s ever utilized his ability with me. Every single one of them has been out of sheer necessity.”
And explaining Celedis to you, sharing pieces of his long lost childhood, are decidedly not. The gravity of it all sinks in with full force, and you suddenly feel as if your knees might buckle under the weight of it all.
You have to see him. You ache with it now, the overwhelming urge to just say fuck it and run until your feet have carried you all the way to their shared home. Until your fist connects with the outside of his bedroom door and the only barriers that exist between the two of you are easily breakable.
But Jake has a key in his pocket, and you have the fate of a city resting in the liminal space between you. Selfish desires, no matter how strong, will have to wait.
“I…” you hesitate for a moment, searching for the right words. “Thank you. For telling me, I mean. For trusting me.”
Jake nods. “For what it’s worth, we all do. Trust you, that is. Even Jungwon, although he might never admit it out loud. It’s been a while since we’ve spent so much time around a human. They’re all really fond of you, you know.” Jake grins, something just a bit devious entering his eyes. “It drives Heeseung insane.”
“Well,” you return, “For what it’s worth, I’m quite fond of you all, too. Definitely my seven favorite vampires.”
“Aw,” Jake brings a hand to his heart. “You’re too kind. I’m honored, truly.”
Turning back towards the painting, it’s a sobering reminder of why you’re here, what you still need to do. Looking towards Jake at your side, you request, “Help me move this?”
Nodding, a refound sense of determination enters his gaze. “Let’s do it.”
Painting aside and key in your hand, you find yourself once again face to face with the small opening that separates Professor Kim’s office from that horrifying dungeon of a room that sits just below it.
Jake hands you a walkie talkie, and you eye it warily for a moment. “We’re sure these things work?’
“Positive,” Jake nods. “We tested them this morning. Oh, and I brought you this, too.” Reaching out, he hands you a headlamp. “He mentioned that it’s pretty dark down there.”
“Good thinking. Thank you.” Clipping the walkie talkie onto your belt loop, you take the light from Jake, securing the headband around your temple. Even though the gravity of the situation isn’t lost on you, you can’t help but feel a bit ridiculous. Giving your front pocket a final tap, you confirm that the key is tucked away safely. “Well,” you turn back to Jake, “see you on the other side.”
“Good luck,” he nods. “And if anything, and I do mean anything, feels off, use that to talk to me, okay?” He just his chin at the walkie talkie at your waist.
“I will,” you promise.
And then, with just one final glance over your shoulder, you’re suspended into darkness just as surely as the previous night. For a moment, you consider igniting your headlamp. But you decide against it rather quickly. It’s probably best that you don’t see just how far beneath you the ground is.
This time, thankfully, your decent feels much shorter. With some of the uncertainty stripped away, your feet are touching solid ground before you know it.
Once you’re firmly planted, you reach for the light on your forehead.
It ignites, shooting a strong beam of light straight out in front of you.
Again, you fight the shiver that traces the length of your spine. It is quite cold down here, with a certain dampness that permeates into your bones, but that’s not why you shudder.
WIth light revealing their secrets, the cells that line the passage are even more ominous. Dark, rusted iron lies in wait on either side of you.
Handcuffs, chains, spare pieces of metal you’re sure you don’t want to know the purpose for, line your path as you force your feet forward. Even if you wanted to take a closer look, that’s not why you’re here today. Mission in mind, you continue down the long, dark path towards the opening where you know you’ll find the chest.
Finally, after a few long minutes, you’re face-to-face with the locked chest again. The desk is still there, too, undisturbed.
Taking a deep breath, you reach into your pocket, retrieving the key from Professor Kim’s university office. Forcing away any other lingering memories of the previous night that threaten to rise, you bring the key to the lock.
Your hands are shaking. The cold, the fear, the anticipation. They all settle heavy in your bones and leave you with tremors you can’t quite stop.
“C’mon,” you whisper out loud to the darkness, with no one but you and the faint sound of dripping water to hear. “Come on.”
Finally, the key aligns just right.
Despite the tremble in your fingers, despite the improbability that this key even matches this lock, it slides in with ease.
And when you turn it to the right, you hear a telltale click.
In your shaking grip, the lock falls open. Sliding the key back into your pocket, you pull the lock out of the loop of the front of the chest. Setting it down at your feet, you take one deep inhale.
And then, with hands that still tremble, you push the heavy lid of the chest open.
You’re not sure what you expect. Something horrific, maybe. Some damning evidence of evildoing. Something soaked in blood, something so explicitly terrible that there’s no guesswork to be done.
But the chest contains only two things.
The first is a massive stash of what you assume must be distilled moonflower. Organized neatly into rows upon rows of tiny small vials that look terribly similar to the contraption he used to shoot you in the neck the first time you came to the publishing house.
This, in and of itself, feels like a revelation. According to Heeseung, moonflower is rare. And knowledge on proper distillation processes is even more obsolete. To have this much of it distilled and on hand… it must mean something.
The chest is nearly overflowing with the small vials, save for a small space, just in the middle, where a book sits nestled amongst the moonflower.
A book that looks nearly identical to one you’ve seen before. To one that still sits forgotten in the bottom drawer of the dresser next to your bed.
Hands still unsteady, you reach for it.
At first glance, it’s an exact copy of the strange book you found in the university library all those weeks ago. But as you lean closer, you notice one key difference. The title.
The one you found tucked away on a library shelf was called Sacred Monsters: The Origins of Immortality.
But it must be part of a set, an anthology of sorts.
Because the book between your shaking fingers stares back at you with the title Sacred Monsters: Cures for the Affliction.
Book in your hands, you realize you have a dilemma. The volume is far too thick to take pictures of every page, but removing it from the chest to bring with you feels risky.
At least this time, you think as you reach for the walkie talkie at your waist, you don’t have to make all of your decisions alone.
Pressing the button on the side, you speak into the receiver. “Hey Jake, you there?”
A handful of seconds pass before his response filters through. It’s crackly but perfectly audible. “I’m here. Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” you confirm. “I found something. A book. It’s pretty hefty. I won’t be able to take pictures of all of the pages. Do you think I should bring it with me or just take a few photos and leave it here?”
“It was in the chest?” Jake asks.
“Yeah,” you nod. “I think it might be too risky to bring with me.”
“I agree,” Jake confirms. “Just take a few pictures, and then get out of there.”
“Will do,” you agree. “See you soon.” You secure the walkie talkie back on your belt loop.
Setting the book down on the cold ground, you sink to your knees in front of it. Reaching for your phone, the first picture youtube is of the front cover.
Deciding that they’ll want evidence of the moonflower as well, you reach up to angle your camera towards the open chest.
And then you return to the book. Opening it to the first page, the similarities are uncanny to the one you found in the library before. The font, the slight discoloration, the ink smudges lost to time. It’s too overwhelming to just be a series of unlikely coincidences. It must be connected to the other Sacred Monsters.
Taking quick photos as you flip through the pages, you force yourself not to linger, no matter how much curiosity eats away at you. You’ll have time to review the pages later, you tell yourself. Right now, the best course of action is to get in and out as quickly as you can.
Still, a handful of phrases and words jump out at you as you photograph the pages.
Moonflower distillation…
Degeneration…
Test subjects…
Nightshade…
And finally, just as you’re drawing to the end of the book, a phrase catches your eye.
The Kingdom of Celedis.
Your heart drops into your stomach, body going cold.
He knows. You’re not sure how much. You're not sure exactly what. You have no idea why. But your professor has a book locked away in a secret underground prison beneath his publishing house. A book that mentions a kingdom lost to time, forgotten by everyone, preserved only in the minds of seven immortal beings.
Professor Kim knows. And somehow, that’s more terrifying than anything else contained in this dark, decrepit place.
Taking a photo of the final page in the book, you let it fall shut once again. Placing it back in the chest just as meticulously as you found it, you close the lid again and slide the padlock through the hold.
The key goes in just as easily this time, locks as easily as it opened. Despite the obvious age of everything else in this place, the lock has no signs of rust, no hint of disuse.
It’s been opened regularly, you assume. And likely by your professor.
As that realization begins to settle, the walkie talkie on your hip gives another disconcerting crackle. Immediately, your heart leaps into your throat, mind spinning with the worst possibilities.
You’re at the very end of the passage. It will take you at least ten minutes to be back in the office and another three to be out of the publishing house. More than that if you account for the potential of your professor’s heightened senses.
After a moment of extended silence, Jake’s voice filters through.
“Everything still okay down there?”
Your mind swims with relief, but your pulse doesn’t slow.
Bringing the device to your mouth, you press the button on the side. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just finished. I’ll be back up soon.”
Another beat of silence passes. And then, “Glad to hear it. I’ll be here.”
But you can’t help but confirm, “They still have eyes on Professor Kim?”
Jake answers quickly, “Yeah. Sunghoon and Niki have eyes on him. He hasn’t left his house.”
Tucking the key back into your pocket, you begin the journey back, your quick footsteps echoing against wet stone. “Good. See you soon.”
Down the narrow passageway, your phone feels leaden in your pocket, weighed down with evidence you’re not sure how to parse. You want to be out of here as quickly as you can, back in your apartment where you can compare the two books. Where you can show them to the others.
Thankfully, again, the way out feels shorter. Despite the ache in your muscles as you pull your body up the ladder, time passes quickly as you ascend back to the publishing house.
True to his word, Jake waits for you just outside of the narrow entrance. He reaches out a hand to help pull you back into the small room.
Giving you a quick once over, he frowns. “You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
You practically have. Celedis. But this isn’t the place.
You shake your head and tell him as much. “Not here.”
Despite the brevity of your words, Jake understands. Instead of pressing you further, he helps you slide the mural back into position, once again covering the opening to the room below.
Giving the painting a final look, you’re sure of it now. It is Celedis. It has to be. Even if some of the details are slightly wrong.
But your head is spinning and your thoughts are jumbled and you can’t be the only one with the weight of so many revelations weighing on your mind.
As the two of you make your way back down the hallway towards the front door of New Haven, Jake tells you, “We’ll reconvene at our place. We can go over everything there.”
You shake your head. “Tell everyone to meet at my apartment instead.”
“What?” A flicker of confusion creases his brow as his head tilts to the side. “Why?”
“It’ll make sense soon, I promise,” you tell him. “There’s something there I need to show you. All of you.”
Jake glances at you, but he doesn’t question you further. His earlier words echo in your mind. “For what it’s worth, we all do. Trust you, that is.”
At your side, he pulls out his phone as you pull the door to New Haven shut behind you. “Jungwon,” you hear him say. “Change of plans. We’ll meet at her apartment instead.”
Again, the questions must be short lived, and Jake is ending the conversation just as quickly as it started.
…..
When you arrive back at your apartment, Jungwon, Jay, Sunoo, and Niki are waiting for you in the parking lot.
Stepping out of the driver’s seat, Jake nods at Jungwon. Then, after glancing around, he asks, “Where’s Sunghoon?”
“Keeping an eye on the professor,” Jungwon answers. “We thought it would be best to have at least one of us tailing him still.”
Jake nods.
Jungwon turns to you. “I take it you found something. And there’s something here at your apartment you want us to see?”
You nod. “Yeah. A… well, a book. Two books, actually,” you amend. “Let’s go up,” you nod at the staircase, “and I can show you.”
Jungwon hesitates for a moment. A meaningful glance that you can’t quite decipher passes between the five of them.
“Okay,” he finally acquiesces. “Lead the way.”
Phone heavy in your pocket, you climb the two flights of stairs with the five of them trailing behind you. The distance they put between you is slightly odd, but you don’t have much space left in your mind to think much of it.
That is, until you reach your doorstep. And find it already occupied.
“Heeseung,” you breathe. A force of habit more than anything.
He’s already looking at you. Heard your conversation in the parking lot and your footsteps on the stairs and your heartbeat in your chest. He knew the exact moment you would round the corner and the number of breaths it would take you to reach him.
His dark eyes reflect afternoon sunlight in a way that looks all too much like stars, and you have no idea what to do with any of it.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, as if his words are anything more than a bandaid on a bullet wound, as if the five boys behind you can’t hear the words that pass between you.
And you’ve been stewing in it since this morning, thinking of all the ways you could beg him, plead with him, convince him to let whatever lies between the two of you to blossom, to grow wings.
But now, with his eyes on you and the fate of a city in the pocket of your jeans, words fail you.
Finally, your lips part. “I have something to show you.” And now you’re the one putting up walls, building barriers. For now, he’s not a boy that kissed you until your head was spinning and you couldn’t make right from left. He’s a vampire, and the two of you have a job to do.
Your hurt, your desires, your wounded pride still sit heavy in your gut.
But you owe it to him – this boy that was born a prince and sharpened into a weapon and cursed with a blessing he never asked for – to bring an end to this particular bout of suffering.
To let the tragic kingdom of his youth rest once and for all, even if you have to reopen wounds in the process.
Across from you, Heeseung only nods.
Stepping to the side, he lets you be the one to open the door. He doesn’t need to linger outside; he’s already been invited in, more than once. But he does anyway. He waits for your words, for your approval, and then he follows you inside. Behind him, the other five exchange long, sideways glances.
Just like this morning, the sight of the six of them crammed on your small couch is almost enough to inspire a smile. Under any other circumstances, you’d be laughing out loud. Now, however, you just give a long exhale.
“They key worked,” you begin. “It opened the chest.”
Five hundred years, and they all have yet to perfect their patience.
“And?” Jay is practically tripping over himself to get the question out.
“It was full of distilled moonflower,” you tell them. Vials like the one the professor used to inject me in the neck. Hundreds of them.”
“What?” Sunoo gasps.
“How?” Niki frowns.
“Moonflower is rare,” Jake shakes his head. “There’s no way he could have that much of it.”
“Well, he must know some secret place where it grows or something,” you suggest. “Because he does.”
“No,” Jungwon shakes his head. “You don’t understand. It’s not only a matter of knowing where it grows. Moonflower is a magical substance, and magic is finite. It simply doesn’t grow in abundance. In order for someone to have a stash that large…”
“He’s been collecting it,” Heeseung finishes. “For a long, long time.”
“He’s been a vampire for twenty years,” you remind them. “Maybe he’s been collecting it just as long.”
Again, Jungwon shakes his head. “Hundreds of vials isn’t something that can be achieved in twenty years. Hundreds of vials is hundreds of years.”
“But that doesn’t make any sense.” You frown, wheels in your brain beginning to spin.
“There are two possibilities,” Jake says. “Either your professor is lying about how old he is…”
“Or he’s not the only one that’s been collecting and distilling moonflower,” Jay finishes.
Sunoo shakes his head. “We haven’t seen any evidence of him working with others.”
“Either way,” Niki frowns, “Something's not quite right.”
“The moonflower.” Jungwon looks at you again. “Was it the only thing in the chest?”
You shake your head. “No. There was also a book.”
“Right.” Jake nods. “The one you took pictures of.”
“Yeah,” you nod. “I left it in the chest, obviously, but I took photos of the pages. I didn’t have a chance to look too closely while I was there, but I think it talks about…” you trail off for a moment, eyes flickering to Heeseung, despite yourself. “I think it talks about Celedis.”
“Celedis?” Jake balks.
“That’s impossible.” Jay shakes his head.
But Jungwon just looks at you. “Earlier in the parking lot, you said you had two books to show us.”
“Yeah,” you sigh. “I do. I was in the university library a few weeks ago, and I found this book. It was about vampires, but it was… I don’t know. It was strange. It wasn’t vitriolic or propaganda. It was almost like a diary. The reason I wanted you all to come here is because I checked it out. I have it here, in my bedroom. But the weirdest part is the title.”
“The title?” Sunoo prompts.
“It’s called Sacred Monsters: The Origins of Immortality. And the book I found in the chest today, it looked really similar. And it was called Sacred Monsters: Cures for the Affliction.”
A beat of silence passes. Another.
“That,” Niki finally says, “Doesn’t feel like a coincidence.”
Standing, you nod. “I don’t think so either.” Walking to your bedroom, you open the bottom drawer of your dresser. With the events of the past weeks, part of you expects the book to have vanished mysteriously. To have been nothing but a figment of your overactive imagination.
Despite your musings, Sacred Monsters: The Origins of Immortality lies undisturbed just as you left it. With careful hands, you pull it out of your dresser and bring it back to the living room, setting it on the coffee table in front of the boys.
“This is the book from the library?” Jungwon asks.
“Yeah,” you confirm. “And I don’t have a printer or anything, but I’ll send you the photos I took of the book from the chest today.”
Scrolling through the files you send him, Jungwon pauses on the cover, glancing between it and the book on the coffee table. “I see what you mean. These must be related.”
Reaching for the book, Jay flips open the front cover, frowning. “There’s no author or publication date.”
“I know,” you agree. “It’s all so odd. It wasn’t even in the library system,” you add, remembering that night at the library. “The librarian had to manually check it out to me.”
“Jesus,” Sunoo grimaces, glancing at some of the pages over Jay’s shoulder. “This is super depressing.”
“Yeah,” Jay nods. “I see what you mean. This is definitely about vampires, but it’s nothing like other human-written vampire literature.
Next to them, Jungwon scrolls through the images you’ve sent him, enlarging photos to read pieces of text. With each and every passing image, his frown grows deeper and deeper.
“We have a problem,” Jungwon finally says. Looking back at the photo, he amends, “Several, actually.”
You assume he must have drawn the same conclusion as you. “He must know about Celedis, right? The professor, I mean.”
“Yes,” Jungwon confirms. “I’m sure he does.”
“But how?” Jay presses.
“I don’t know.” Jungwon’s mouth pulls into a grim line. “But that’s not all.”
“This page,” He holds up his phone. “It’s a guide. Explaining in excruciating detail how to harvest, store, and distill moonflower. It also discusses its side effects. On humans and vampires.”
Scrolling to the next photo, he adds, “It looks like they studied these side effects. Through experimentation. Most of these pages are entries. Data. Experiments.” Looking at all of you, he lets the weight of that sink in for a moment. “Whoever wrote this book tested moonflower and its effects. On humans and vampires.”
“What?” Jake frowns. “The professor tested moonflower on vampires?”
“Not the professor, necessarily,” Jungwon shakes his head. “But yes, whoever wrote this book must have.”
“The cells,” you breathe, a sickening realization beginning to build in the pit of your stomach. “The cells beneath New Haven. It wasn’t just a jail.”
“It was a lab,” Heeseung finishes, locking eyes with you.
Jungwon holds up another photo. “I think you’re right. Look at this.” You all squint as he enlarges the photo. There’s a date at the top – September 13, 1942. And next to it, a number V029.
Beneath it are a series of notes too small to make out from where you sit. Jungwon reads them, “Dosage: 8 milliliters. Injection site: Lower throat, right side. Time of effect: 2 minutes, 19 seconds.
“V029 continues to exhibit strange behaviors under the influence of Moonflower. Although dosages have varied, the results remain consistent. Today, she spoke again about “Celedis.” When prompted with the addition of pain, she requested drawing paper. Upon refusal, she would not speak. A second dosage was administered (6ml) and further infliction of pain was utilized. V029 did not respond audibly to any given prompt or stimuli.”
“Celedis,” Jake echoes. “One of his… test subjects,” he spits with vitriol, “was the one to mention Celedis.”
“That still doesn’t make sense,” Jay points out. “It doesn’t matter if his test subjects were vampires. We’re the only ones that know about Celedis. Every other vampire in existence is a descendant of the eighth son. None of them should have any idea that Celedis ever existed.”
“And we don’t know that these were the Professor’s test subjects,” Niki points out, echoing Jungwon’s earlier words. The page is dated for 1942. If he is telling the truth about when he was turned, he wasn’t even alive yet.”
“There must be some way to corroborate that,” you frown. “He said that he was turned the same night his entire family was massacred. Obviously, it wouldn’t have been reported as a vampire attack, but there should be something about it. Some kind of public record of their deaths, at least.”
Heeseung nods, pulling out his phone. “I’ll see if I can find anything.”
“Um,” Sunoo interjects, holding up the original Sacred Monsters book, the one you brought home from the library. “We might have another problem.”
Six pairs of eyes turn to look at him.
“Most of these entries just seem like personal writing, like you said,” Sunoo nods at you. “But this section towards the end, here…” He trails off for a moment. “It’s called Blood Moon Ritual.”
“What?” Six voices echo in unison.
“ There’s only one entry,” Sunoo continues, frowning. “And it doesn't really make sense. It’s a poem, like the others,” Sunoo explains. “Here, I’ll read it.
“The Origins of Immortality
That which was lost can be gained.
The requirements are the same.
That which was gained can be lost.
The sacrifice goes unchanged.
Every life can end.
Every life can endure.
Fate is always determined
By what the wish is for.”
For a moment, your living room is silent.
Jay breaks it by asking, “What the fresh hell does that mean?”
“Literature majors,” Niki glances between you and Heeseung. “Either of you want to pipe in on this one?”
“I mean,” you start, “without context, it kind of just sounds like a bunch of nonsense.”
Before you can turn the words around in your mind again, Heeseung speaks up from where he sits. “I think I found something,” he says, holding up his phone.
“Really?” You ask, just at the same time as Jay presses, “What?”
“There is a record from,” he double checks the date, “almost exactly twenty years ago. It’s anonymous, but it gives ages. A nine-year-old child and her forty-three year-old mother. The official cause of death is listed as an animal mauling.”
“That matches, then. That’s exactly what the professor told me.”
“There’s more, though,” Heeseung frowns.
“More?” Your brow creases.
“Another death.” Heeseung matches your gaze. “The child’s great grandfather, age ninety-one. And the location of death… Didn’t Professor Kim tell you that he was visiting family outside of the city?”
You nod. “He said it happened in a remote cabin. A group of nomadic vampires attacked them there.”
Heeseung shakes his head. “The location listed here is the city. This city.”
Your frown deepens. Heeseung sticks the final nail in the coffin. “Their bodies were discovered near a row of abandoned buildings where there have been past instances of mountain lion activity. It’s on the far side of the city. Just a few blocks away from New Haven.”
You echo his words. “His family died near New Haven?” It’s odd, the way the truth seems to mingle with lies. The way your professor seems to have chosen strange pieces of the story to be dishonest about. “Why would he tell the truth about his family dying from a vampire attack twenty years ago but lie about where it happened? And not mention a grandfather?”
“I don’t know,” Heeseung says. The reality of just how much you have yet to uncover begins to settle uncomfortably in the air. Every discovery seems like it only leads to ten more mysteries to solve, another dozen dead ends.
“I’m still stuck on Celedis,” Jay says. “We need some way to figure out who this person was and how they knew Celedis. We need–”
“We need the whole book,” you finish.
It’s not a question or a matter of opinion. It’s the obvious conclusion to be drawn.
Jungwon nods. “Sunghoon should still have eyes on the Professor. I’ll confirm that he’s still home, and then we can–”
“Are you insane?” Heeseung isn’t looking at his phone anymore. His search for more information on the tragic deaths of Professor Kim’s family are forgotten for the moment. “She was just there twice, and you want her to go back again? Now?”
“Heeseung…” Jake warns, taking care to guard his tone.
“I know it’s not ideal,” Jungwon tries to placate him, “But that book has answers that we need. Right now, all we can do is speculate. If your professor has a massive stash of distilled moonflower and knows about Celedis, who knows what else he might have access to? What else he might know? People are still dying, and he’s connected to it all somehow. I’m sure of it.”
“I know that,” Heeseung bites, visibly frustrated. “But why does she have to be the one to–”
“And how exactly are you planning to get one of us down there?” Jungwon sighs, running an open palm over his features. “I don’t want to argue with you, but unless you have a plan for getting Professor Kim to invite you into his secret vampire torture chamber, ___ is the only one of us that can get this book.”
“It’s okay,” you finally interject. Something about the two of them arguing over your fate while you sit and watch doesn’t quite sit right with you. More than that, something about him always speaking over you, acting as if it’s all in your best interest, while also not bothering to give you the time of day, is all too reminiscent of the other decisions he’s made on his own.
Still, you choose to be gentle. “I debated with Jake, actually, about whether I should bring the whole book or not. We thought this would be safer for now, but I knew it was a possibility that I would have to go back for it. I was prepared for this.”
Heeseung looks like he wants to say more, like he wants to argue, but something in your expression has his words dying on his lips.
“I’ll get ready,” you nod. Retreating to your bedroom, you add, “Just give me a minute to grab my jacket.”
In all honesty, your jacket is the least of your concerns. Because despite your resolve, despite the will that you’ve forced yourself to steel, Heeseung is right.
Even at a distance, he can still read you like the back of his hand. Like an open book with nothing but pages for him to peruse at his pleasure.
The thought of going back to New Haven, of going back into that cold, dark, empty expanse of horror sends your mind spiraling. Walking into the bathroom adjoined to your bedroom, you place both hands on the counter on opposite sides of the sink. It’s an attempt, a feeble one, maybe, at grounding yourself.
Forcing your gaze upwards, you match your own eye in the mirror. A million emotions are reflected back at you. Determination, weariness, resolve, fear.
You’re scared. No matter what you tell them, no matter what you tell yourself, you feel it. Swimming in your mind, nestling in your bones. A terror rooted so deep you’re not sure you’ll ever get it out.
You don’t want to go to New Haven. You don’t want to descend down that ladder. You don’t want to risk your life or your comfort or your sanity. You don’t want to have feelings for an immortal being that needs blood to survive.
But reality doesn’t bend to the whims of frightened girls, and ignoring the things that scare you won’t make them go away.
Bravery, you think, as you watch your reflection in the mirror. It’s not just reserved for moments that feel grand in scale. It’s also here, in places like this. Where there’s nothing but you, your reflection, and all of the things you wish you could avoid waiting for you just outside the door.
So with a final inhale, you force your features into something neutral, something that at least five of the boys waiting for you outside will believe. And then you walk back to your bedroom, making sure to pull your jacket over your shoulders before stepping back out into the living room.
Jake stands from his seat on the couch when you enter the room again. Heeseung avoids your gaze.
“You ready?” Jake asks.
“As I’ll ever be,” you nod, forcing a false sense of cavalier lightness into your tone.
“Good thing I left the headlamp in the car,” Jake jokes, pulling on his shoes.
“And the walkie talkies,” you agree.
Despite yourself, you can’t quite stop your eyes from wandering back towards your living room one last time.
Jungwon is dictating new assignments while the others listen attentively. Well, three of them anyway.
Heeseung just sits there, his eyes still trained on the ground.
You’re sure he can feel it, the way your gaze settles on the side of his face, traces his profile and then does it again. But no matter how long your gaze lingers, he won’t return it.
And maybe this is it, you think. Maybe you’ll just have to make peace with the fact that all you’ll ever get from him are closed doors and avoided eye contact.
He’s had his teeth in your neck and your blood on his lips, and despite it all, the only thing he has for you now is a cold shoulder disguised as concern.
And if this self flagellation is some kind of atonement, an apology for a crime he’s convinced himself he’s committed, then that, you think, is where his true selfishness lies.
He can call it altruism and immortal wisdom all he wants. But caring for you from a distance will never be something you thank him for.
It’s not a declaration you can make in front of an audience, so with a final sigh, you turn towards your front door and follow Jake’s retreating figure from it.
As it so happens, you can be selfish too. You pretend you don’t feel Heeseung’s eyes on your back the entire way out.
However, you must not be as good at disguising your fear as you thought, because Jake is nothing but apologies while the two of you walk side by side down the stairs.
“I really am sorry,” he breathes into frigid air. The warmth of his breath creates a visible cloud. “I shouldn’t have told you to just leave the book there, but I was worried–”
“It’s not your fault.” You shake your head. “I thought it would be best to leave the book, too. And it’s okay, really. I’ll be just fine.”
“Still,” he reiterates. “I’m sorry that it has to be you. It can’t be fun going down there all alone. And especially since we know what it was used for now…”
Your lips flatten. “Are you trying to make me feel better or worse?”
“Sorry,” He laughs, apologizing again. “You’re right. No more gloomy talk. We’ll just get you in and out as fast as we can, and we can worry about the rest of it later.”
“Works for me.” You force a tight smile, reaching for the car door. If it’s any consolation, you’re glad that it’s Jake you’re with. His presence is steady, carries a certain kind of lightness that helps to chase away some of the lingering storm clouds, even if just for a moment.
But just as you move to slide into the passenger seat, you hear the telltale sound of footsteps on pavement over your shoulder. They’re rapid, loud. Whoever it is, they’re running.
Turning over your shoulder, your brow creases in confusion when your eyes land on Heeseung. Again, it’s not you he’s looking at.
Heesung is talking to Jake when he says, “Change of plans. Jungwon wants you down by the river.”
“What?” Jake frowns. “But what about–”
“I’ve got her.” Heeseung’s words cut through the air like an arrow, pierce through your uncertainties like a knife.
“I…” Jake trails off. He’s looking at you, not Heeseung when he asks, “You sure?”
“Go,” you nod. “I’m sure Jungwon has his reasons.” It’s flimsy reasoning, and between the three of you, no one is convinced that Jungwon is responsible for this change.
But they’re switching places all the same. Jake gives you one final glance over his shoulder, and you swear you see him shake his head before he heads back up the stairs to where the other boys still sit in your apartment.
And Heeseung still won’t look at you, even as he walks around to the other side of the car and slides into it, sitting only a handful of inches away from you.
It’s a reflection of this morning, an echo of earlier as the car turns out of your apartment parking lot and sets course for New Haven. Only this time, it’s Heeseung in the driver’s seat, not Jake.
The silence between the two of you extends for long minutes, nothing but the gentle hum of the car heater to fill the empty air.
Finally, with nothing but road ahead of you, Heeseung exhales a long sigh. “You don’t have to do this, you know. You say the word, and I’ll turn this car around. We can go back to your apartment or to my place or somewhere else entirely. I’ll get you on a plane out of the country, if that’s what you want.”
You raise a brow. His meager attempts at kindness have started to lose their shine. “And the book?”
Heeseung shakes his head. “Fuck that stupid book.”
Easy to say, maybe. But both of you know it’s not true. Besides, “I don’t want to leave the country.”
“Really?” You can’t tell if he’s serious when he adds, “I hear that Costa Rica is lovely this time of year.”
“I’m sure it is,” you concede. If he wants to skirt around admissions, you’ll run headfirst into them. “But I’d be worried about you.”
Heeseung only sighs. “I can take care of myself.”
“That’s not what I mean.” You’re sure he knows it, but being difficult on purpose isn’t new to either of you. “And we’ve had this argument before. My mind hasn’t changed, and clearly yours hasn’t either. If you get to decide how to live your life without any input from me, then I expect the same courtesy from you.”
“It’s different,” he insists. Now, at least, he’s talking. Even if it’s only to beg for a bit of your understanding. “I’ve already lived a life. Too many lives. Five hundred years worth of life with no sign of any end coming soon.”
You have to disagree. “Have you, though? You know, when people talk about having lived a life, they’re not just talking about years. They’re talking about family, friendships, community. Achievements, accomplishments.” The last word dangles from your lips. Oh, fuck it. “Love.”
Next to you, Heeseung is silent. You press on, “I understand that you’ve made up your mind. That with all your five hundred years of immortal wisdom, you’ve decided you get to make decisions for the both of us. But you know what else is a normal part of life? Kissing someone and regretting it. You can just avoid me at parties, you know. You don’t have to threaten to send me to Costa Rica.”
“It wasn’t a threat–”
But you’re not done. “I liked it, by the way. In case you were wondering. I don’t care if you regret it.” Your pride feels like something forgotten, discarded long ago. Maybe it’s a facade or false bravado, but you find it easy to bare your secrets here in the passenger seat. “I liked it when you kissed me. I liked the way it felt when you put your hands on me. I liked the way you lost control with my blood in your mouth. I went home and I laid in bed and I thought about it. All alone in my bedroom, with my hands on my skin everywhere you touched me while I pretended like it was you. I dreamed about you. I woke up thinking about you.”
Heeseung whispers your name. A warning, a plea. He might as well be shouting in your ear.
“You can avoid eye contact and pretend it never happened all that you want. I’m not going to. In fact, I’m probably going to think about it again tonight. Do what you want. I’m not going to pretend that I don’t have feelings for you, and I’m not going to avoid New Haven,” Your chest is heaving now. Between words, it’s easy to forget that you need to breathe, too. “And I’m not running away to fucking Costa Rica.”
“You think I enjoy this?” Heeseung’s knuckles are white against the steering wheel. “You think I like having this… this war in my brain? This constant struggle? You think I’m playing with you? Toying with your feelings because I can’t make up my mind?” He shakes his head and sends your thoughts scattering. “I’m not. You used to glare at me across the lecture hall, and it would be the highlight of my day. I looked forward to every assignment Professor Kim gave us, because it meant I’d have another chance to read something you’d written. I’ve been alive for five hundred years, and I don’t think I’ve ever found anything that makes me feel the way your words do. For the first time in my life, I felt like someone else could take what I was feeling and put it into words.”
That gives you pause. He… thought about you? Even then? He read your writing?
“And it didn’t stop there. I used to go home from class imagining, praying that I could be like every other person in that stupid class. That I could be just another kid in my twenties worried about disappointing their parents and picking the wrong major. That I could waste my afternoons staring at the pretty girl in my literature course that couldn’t be bothered to give me the time of day. Fantasizing about asking her to study with me at a coffee shop or share a workroom in the library.”
Your eyes are wide now, and they’re trained directly on him. Heeseung is still looking out at the road in front.
“You think I don’t think about you too? That I want to pretend none of it ever happened? You’re wrong. All I do is think about you, and all I do is want. But they’re things I can’t have, things I can’t be. I wish I could fall asleep dreaming about you. I wish I could wake up with you on my mind and know that I only have so many days to do something about it.”
He shakes his head, as if that will clear the errant thoughts that have clearly begun to consume him.
“But I can’t. I can’t sleep. I can’t shut off my brain, even for a second. All I do is think. All I do is remember. You think I didn't like it? You think I didn’t go home with the feeling of your skin on my hands and the taste of your blood in my mouth? You think I don’t spend every waking hour with the sound of you whimpering burned into my mind? I’ve wanted things before, but never like this. I made peace with myself a long time ago. I know what I am and I understand that ultimately, my existence is a burden to this world. I’ve learned to stop wishing for impossible things. But every time I look at you, I just… I just want.”
Your voice is small. You don’t know how to respond to any of it. “It’s okay to want things.”
“It’s not.” Heeseung shakes his head. “Not when they’re impossible. Not when it will only bring pain to the people I care about. I don’t want to be someone you avoid at a party. I don’t want to watch you move on with your life when this inevitably ends. But all of those things you talked about earlier, all of those parts that make up a life – friendship, family, community. I can’t give you any of that.”
It’s hard to hear. It hurts to see how visibly upset he is about all of it.
“It doesn’t matter if I live for another five hundred years or a thousand years or until the end of time itself. I already know I’ll spend all of it thinking about you. I’ve made peace with it before, and I’ll learn to do it again, but I can’t take your life from you. And even if I wanted to, I can’t watch you grow to resent me for it.”
In front of you, the road appears endless. With sunlight reflecting in the rearview mirror, the day is dying, and your hopes are going with it.
“When I tell you that I’ll send you to Costa Rica if that’s what you want, it’s not because I’m trying to get rid of you. It’s because I want you to make the choices that are best for you. Not for me, not for the boys, not even for this city. I don’t expect you to take me up on it. Your moral compass will be the death of me, I’m sure. But the offer will always be there.”
Your emotions feel frivolous. Your desires feel petulant. Still, you can’t help but counter, “And what if I resent you now? For not even giving this a chance?”
Heeseung smiles, a wry thing that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Then I’ll take comfort in knowing you have a whole life ahead of you to get over it.”
It’s a stalemate that has the car stumbling back into silence, even as your head spins. He noticed you, he thought about you, long before you ever thought you were even a blip on his radar.
He read your words and connected to them. As a writer, it feels as if he’s admitted to seeing your soul and finding it beautiful. As a human, it makes you want to fall in love, despite all of the ways he’s thoroughly and entirely erased that possibility.
You’re not sure how long you sit in the quiet, mind reeling. It can’t be more than a handful of minutes, though, before the scenery around you begins to take a familiar shape. You’re close.
Early evening has just begun to close in. Around you, shadows are growing longer, street lights flickering on as the last rays of sunlight fade from the day.
Still a few blocks away, Heeseung pulls into an empty parking lot.
You frown. “Surely we can get a little closer than this?” It’s seamless, how well the two of you slip into your roles. You have a job to do. In the face of that reality, it’s as if the past twenty minutes don’t exist at all. The only evidence is the lingering tension that simmers in the air.
“It’s not that.” Heeseung pulls his phone out, frowning at the screen. “Sunghoon’s not responding.”
“What?” Your eyes widen. “Do you think he’s okay?”
“I’m sure he’s fine,” Heeseung assures you. “He was responding to Jungwon just fifteen minutes ago. But that means we haven’t heard from anyone with eyes on the professor since then.” Weighing his options mentally, Heeseung finally suggests, “Why don’t we drive by New Haven first? We can make sure everything looks okay. If Sunghoon still hasn’t responded by then, we can make a decision.”
“Okay,” you nod.
Back on the road, it takes you less than five minutes to reach the publishing house. Immediately, you can tell that something is wrong.
“There’s a car,” you whisper, even though you’re still inside the safety of the car, still driving down the road. “There’s a car parked out front.”
“I see it.” Heeseung’s lips pull into a tight line.
“I think it’s his car.” Your eyes widen. “The professor’s.”
“Yeah,” Heeseung confirms. “I think so too.”
“Why is he here now?” You wonder. “Didn’t you say Sunghoon had eyes on him at his house just fifteen minutes ago?”
“Something’s not right,” Heeseung agrees. “I’m going to turn around. We’ll head to the house and figure things out there.” He maintains an even tone, but you can sense the hint of panic in his voice, the slight tremble as he turns the car around and starts to head in the opposite direction.
“Sunghoon…” You trail off.
“Try calling him.” Heeseung passes you his phone, jaw tight.
Taking Heeseung’s phone from his outstretched hand, you press the call button. The phone rings. In the quiet, each shrill ring sounds like thunder, burns like terror.
“He’s not answering.” Your voice is quiet as you state the obvious. The call drops from lack of response.
“Fuck,” Heeseung swears beneath his breath. But then he reasons, “I’m sure it’s fine. He’s probably just occupied at the moment or–”
The sound of a ringtone suddenly fills the car.
“Is that him?” A wave of relief washes over his features. But it’s premature.
“No,” you shake your head, frowning at the dark expanse of Heeseung’s screen. “It’s my phone. Hold on.” Digging it out of your pocket, the caller ID only makes the dread in the pit of your stomach intensify further.
Again, your phone rings, the sound cutting through the car like a knife.
“Who is it?” Heeseung asks. “Your heart just jumped like crazy.”
“It’s Professor Kim.” Your words are barely a whisper.
“What?” Despite the task at hand, Heeseung takes his eyes off of the road and turns to you.
“I should answer it, right?” You frown, fingers trembling. “He’s probably just following up on the draft I submitted earlier.” You’re not sure who you’re trying to convince – Heeseung or yourself.
“Fuck,” Heeseung repeats. “I… yeah, you should answer.”
“Okay, just,” you sit up a little straighter, as if your professor can somehow see you. “Just don’t make any sounds.”
Sliding your thumb across your screen, you accept the call.
“Hello? Professor Kim?”
“Hello,” he greets from the other end. Oily slick as always, but there’s something ragged in his voice, too. As if he’s recently exerted himself. At the very least, he doesn’t leave you wondering for long. “I had a chance to review your article.”
“Oh,” you reply, some of the tension easing from your shoulders. “What did you think?”
“Outstanding work,” he praises. “Truly. You are one of the most gifted students I’ve ever come across.”
Under any other circumstances, you’d beam with the praise. Now, your anxiety only heightens. Twists knots in the pit of your stomach. “I… I appreciate that, professor. It means a lot coming from you.”
“I’d like to discuss my suggestions for edits, of course.”
“Right,” you nod. “Could I call you back? I don’t have my computer at the moment, and–”
“I’d like to discuss with you in person, actually.”
“Oh,” you force neutrality into your voice, even as your heart gives a sudden lurch. “Okay. I’m available tomorrow, if there’s a time–”
Again, he interrupts you. “I would like to speak with you tonight. And I have something to show you. It’s quite urgent, I’m afraid.”
“Tonight?” You echo. And ‘something to show you’? At your side, Heeseung stiffens. “It’s a bit late. I’m not sure…”
“With the recent deaths in mind, I’m sure you understand that time is of the essence. The sooner we can publish your work, the sooner the victims can be avenged.”
You turn to Heeseung, a question in your eyes. Matching his gaze, you see the way his head begins to shake. His silent disapproval of the idea. But then he stops, sighs.
In the driver’s seat, next to you, Heeseung silently mouths three words.
It’s your choice.
It almost makes you want to cry. His small adjustment. His trust in your ability to choose for yourself.
Into the receiver, you ask, “Where should I meet you?”
“The publishing office,” your professor responds, approval in his voice. “How soon can you be here?”
Mentally constructing an alibi, you settle with, “I’m not too far away, actually. Probably twenty minutes. Maybe a little longer.”
“Excellent. I’ll see you shortly.”
The line clicks dead.
“I don’t like this,” Heeseung’s voice is dripping in unease.
Yours is no better. “I don’t either, but it’s all part of earning his trust, right?”
“He said he had something to show you. I don’t like all of the possibilities that could entail.”
“I’m sure it’s just something to do with the article,” you try to reason. “He’s probably prepared it as a mock publication or something and thinks I’ll be thrilled to see my writing in an official format.”
Under any other circumstances, you would be.
On the topic of your article, you’re reminded that the words in question aren’t actually yours at all. If this car is a place for revelations, you decide to add one more to the list.
“How did you do it, by the way?” Your gaze traces Heeseung’s side profile where he looks out at the road ahead. “How did you write that article just like I would have?”
Heeseung just sighs. “I told you,” his voice is low, quiet, “your writing means a lot to me. I’ve spent a lot of time with it. I suppose that made it easy to emulate.”
“Well, thank you.”
“For stalking your writing?” Heeseung teases.
“For reading it,” you correct. “For taking the time to understand it.” To understand me.
“You act like it was torture for me.”
“Well, I do remember you calling one of my pieces ‘nauseatingly vitriolic.’” It feels like a lifetime ago, that evening in the writing workshop.
“That was one piece,” Heeseung defends. “And it wasn’t really you.”
“No,” you agree, “it wasn’t.”
Heeseung glances at you, and for a moment, you let yourself imagine it too. A world where he’s just Heeseung and you’re just you.
Two humans that met by chance, worried about disappointing their parents and picking the wrong major. Arguing over semantics and vying for attention from their professor. Stealing glances across the lecture hall that start to linger just a little too long. Meeting outside of class and pretending it’s nothing more than a terrible coincidence every time, even if you never fail to slide down into the seat next to his.
Stealing kisses outside of your professor’s office. Sharing a cup of warm tea at a sporting event both of you are only pretending to understand. Falling in love.
Simple moments. Quiet moments. Human moments.
Heeseung reminds you just how far away that version of reality is when he asks, “Should I turn around, then? It’s already been five minutes.” His voice is quiet, like there’s a fantasy he doesn’t want to disturb, too.
You shake your head. “Take a right at the next light, and drop me off at the bus stop. There’s a group of cafes a couple stops down that are popular with students. If he asks, I’ll say I was at one of them when he called.”
Heeseung doesn’t bother to protest. He follows your directions until the two of you are parked on the curb of the bus stop. Bidding him goodbye, you step out from the passenger seat. “I’ll meet you back here,” you tell him. “I’ll take the bus this far, just to be safe.”
“Okay,” he agrees, “but message me before that. As soon as you can.”
“I will,” you promise. The moment lingers for seconds longer, a million words and promises and declarations dying on both of your lips. You sever them all with the shutting of the car door.
Heeseung doesn’t drive away, not until the bus arrives. And even then, you swear it’s his car you get fleeting glimpses of in the rearview mirror.
But a handful of minutes later, Heeseung and his car are nowhere to be seen as you exit at the stop closest to New Haven. With the absence of the sun, there’s a biting chill in the air. Grateful for your jacket, you pull it a bit tighter around your body, suppressing a shudder.
Glancing down at your phone, you send one final message before taking your last few steps towards the publishing house.
Going in now.
Heeseung responds in milliseconds.
Be safe.
Raising a fist, it feels a bit odd to knock on the same door you’ve broken into twice in the past twenty-four hours. The irony doesn’t have long to linger. Professor Kim is quick to answer the door and even quicker to usher you inside.
Tonight, he looks every bit the well-kept professor you grew used to in your classes. With a creaseless button down tucked into dress pants, he might as well be back at the front of the lecture hall.
“Thank you,” he reiterates as he leads you down the hallway. “I appreciate you coming on such short notice.”
“Of course,” you nod, trying to look as enthusiastic as he wants you to be. “The gravity of the situation is not lost on me. I’m excited to review your edits and get my article published as soon as possible.”
“Right,” he nods, a bit apologetically. “You’ll have to forgive me, then, but I have something rather important to show you first.”
That makes your brow crease in confusion. Is what he’s showing you not related to your writing?
“What is it?”
Your professor just shakes his head. “I’m afraid words won’t do this justice. Follow me.”
Beckoning you forward, he leads you to the same room you were poisoned in the first time you visited New Haven. Suppressing a shudder at the memory, you force your footsteps forward, even as your senses start to scream at you in protest.
Pausing at the door, he turns over his shoulder to look at you. “You’ll be pleased to know that I believe I may have been wrong about Lee Heeseung.”
That sends ice spinning through your veins. You don’t like the sound of Heeseung’s name in his mouth, hate the idea that he’s been so fixated on him. “What do you mean? Wrong in what way?”
“See for yourself,” your professor grins. And then, he opens the door.
The room is as dim as it was the last time you were here, but this time, your professor is quick to turn on the overhead light.
But the absence of darkness only reveals a horror much worse than anything you imagined the darkness concealing.
Because on the opposite side of the room, hunched in the corner, there is a figure illuminated under the harsh fluorescent overhead lighting.
His system is infused with so much moonflower essence that he can hardly do so much as lift his head. But when he finally finds the strength to do so, you make direct eye contact with Park Sunghoon.
⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖
note: Hello my loves! I am so happy to finally be able to share this with you all. I know I mentioned before that part of the reason it took so long was because of some recent changes in my life outside of tumblr, but if I'm honest, part of it too was that I was just having a really hard time continuing this story in a way that felt like it did justice to the first three parts.
There are so many moving pieces and things going on, and I really want to make this story come to life in the best way possible. Thank you for being patient with me while I agonized over that internally lol. I hope that this part was worth the wait. Love u all ♡♡♡
#heeseung fanfiction#heeseung fanfic#heeseung x reader#heeseung x you#enhypen fanfiction#enhypen fanfic#enhypen x reader#enhypen x you#heeseung scenarios#enhypen scenarios#heeseung angst#enhypen angst#heeseung imagines#enhypen imagines
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I lost you.
the new Rafayel myth trailer already has me devastated, so I'm writing to comfort myself and all of us cuties who want nothing more than to kiss/hold our fishie rn. let's get started on repopulating Lemuria, k?
All we have is trailer so here's hoping this still makes sense after the myth comes out.
Warnings: MDNI. Smut! Smut with Feelings. p in v, unprotected, cream pie, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with Comfort. Tender lovin'. Might be ooc bc am still getting back into fanfic. Entirely unedited, you get this raw like our precious fishie!
His stunning violet-pink eyes, wide and glistening with unshed tears became the last thing you saw clung to before your vision went dark. The sharp, cool sting of the blade in your heart hurt far less than the look in his eyes. You wouldn't apologize though. Not for this. Not if it meant saving him. He was a God, and you were his follower. This had always been your purpose, and you would give yourself to him like this a thousand times over if it meant he lived.
You jolted awake, your eyes blinking away the tears that formed in your eyes. Rafayel's cool fingers brushed against your cheek. The last eyes you saw in your nightmare became the first thing you saw upon waking. Concern gleamed in them, but he didn't need to speak. The bond mark on his chest glowed with a faint red light. The bond you tried to break in your nightmare to save him. It lingered, and through it, you knew he felt you. Sensed what you dreamed of.
"I came as fast as I could," he whispered. Moonlight seeped in through the windows, painting him in the soft silver light. His soft amethyst hair was mused from his rush to you, and your heart ached. You nuzzled into his cool palm as the tears fell down your cheeks. You opened your arms, and he complied your silent plea. He climbed up in your bed beside you, and your limbs tangled together. Not in a heady rush of lust and need, but with the desperation that came with holding someone you never thought you'd see again.
He pulled you into his lap, one hand on the back of your neck, the other at the base of your spine. Your arms wrapped around his neck, and your thighs settled over his hips. He clung to you like you were his lifeline, and you held him as if he was your anchor.
"That wasn't just a dream, was it?" you asked, your voice thick with emotion.
"No," he said, his voice hoarse. "Though I spent centuries wishing it was only a nightmare."
"I'm sorry for hurting you," you cried. "I'm sorry I forgot you."
He didn't say anything, but his arms tightened around you, keeping you close to his chest. You planted kisses on his neck, on his shoulder, his chin, anywhere and everywhere you could reach while curled up in his arms.
"You are my heart, Rafayel. I love you so much, there's nothing I wouldn't give you. My heart. My soul. My life. They've always been yours. I will always be yours."
"And you have my heart. Living in a world without you nearly killed me. I only held on because our bond wasn't truly broken. I knew you'd come back to me one day, and I waited. Eight hundred years."
"I'm sorry I kept you waiting," you cried.
"Never do that to me again." Rafayel pulled back and lifted your face to his. "I gave up the sea for you. Gave up my throne, so much of my divine power. I changed myself to fit in your world because mine kept trying to kill you. I refuse to let fate keep taking us down that path. Never, and I do mean never, do that to me again. Please."
"I will always choose to protect you over myself."
"You don't think I feel the same way? We can't keep making these decisions alone."
Your hand slid down his shoulder to his chest. His heart beat under your palm, the red light of your bond with him humming beneath your fingertips. You looked from your fingers back to his stunning sunset eyes. "Okay. From now on, neither of us will sacrifice ourselves. We live. Together, as a team. I swear this to you."
His hand settled over your breast, mirroring your position as your heart raced under his touch. "No more sacrificing ourselves. We're a team. This is my oath to you."
Something surged between you both, almost like your resonance, perhaps magic. Either way, it wrapped around your very soul and tethered you to Rafayel and this moment.
Under the rush of energy and the emotional weight, you couldn't stand the distance between your bodies. You pulled Rafayel in, and your lips found his. You kissed him with all the emotions you couldn't voice, the ones you didn't fully remember consciously. Your heart did, though. You poured it all into him, and he in turn gave you the same. Every ounce of longing, every drop of his yearning, all the heartbeats of love he never got to give you. All of it came crashing down over you both.
You both cried, but neither pulled away. You only broke your kiss to remove your nightgown and push off his shirt. You undressed the rest of the way with your lips connected. You couldn't pull away from him. Not now. Not like this. Usually your trysts were full of teasing banter and the push-pull of power games, but not this time. Right now, you needed to feel him as badly as he needed to feel you. Warm, whole, and alive.
Your hands tangled in his hair as he gripped your waist, slowly easing you down on his throbbing shaft. You were so wet, you welcomed him in easily, stretching around his cock. Still straddling his lap, you bounced up and down, taking him in slow, languid thrusts.
You memorized the feeling of every vein of him, the way the head brushed against your sweet spot, how his cock kissed your cervix every time your hips laid flush with his. You swallowed every one of his moans and delicious whimpers, and he did the same to yours.
You lost yourself in the rhythm of your bodies, like waves crashing against the shoreline. You couldn't resist the pull of pleasure coiling low in your stomach, so you didn't. You ground harder into him, your pace picking up as you chased your pleasure. Rafayel thrust up into you, punching the air from your lungs as he did, which only sent you higher.
Sweat covered you both. Skin-to-skin, with his cock buried as far in as possible, lips connected in your frenzied kiss, the ache in your chest soothed. Rafayel was here, and so were you. The past was an open wound, but each touch, each roll of your hips helped heal it. Rafayel was here, in your arms. He wouldn't dissolve into sea foam. You wouldn't fade into nothing but motes of light. You wouldn't leave one another like that, never again.
Rafayel thrust up into you, hard, and you came with a hoarse cry of his name. He swallowed the sound, but his hips didn't stop. He set your back down on the bed, swapping your position without slipping out of your spasming pussy.
He lifted your legs, throwing them over his shoulders so he could get deeper into you. Your fingers white-knuckle gripped his arms to ground yourself, but his thrusts were so deep, so firm, you couldn't think of anything but the pleasure. His stunning sunset eyes locked on yours, pure devotion written on his face.
"My beautiful bride," he moaned. "My beloved bride."
Your heart almost burst out of your chest. The endearing words pulling a fresh wave of tears from your eyes. "My God, my darling groom."
Tears rolled down his perfect face, and he leaned over, kissing you deeply. This position put him as deep in you as he could go, no space was left between your bodies. He hit every spot you needed him to with powerful, steady thrusts that stole your breath away. His thrusts became more chaotic, his pleasure rising alongside yours. His lips found the cradle of your neck, and he bit down. Claiming you.
You came a second time, crying out his name. He moaned into your neck and followed you a breath later, his cock all the way inside you, the tip pressing against your cervix as he came. Spurt after spurt filled you up, slightly cool and thick, it made you shudder.
You stayed like that for several heartbeats, the aftermath washing over you both with something like reverence. You clung to him as he slowly slipped out, curling into his heaving chest. He cradled you close, planting a soft kiss on your forehead.
"I love you," you said. "So much."
"I love you more than there is language for," he murmured. "Never leave me again."
"I won't," you said as you settled deeper into his hold.
He kissed your head again. Wrapped up in one another, you breathed together in the quiet night. More conversations would follow, other memories still needed to be addressed, the wound was far from healed, but being in his arms, feeling his warmth, and hearing his heartbeat under your ear brought you more comfort than you could voice. He was here. He was real. He was yours, and this time, neither of you were going anywhere.
I'm going to sob so hard at the myth, I just know it. I was so emotionally devastated I dreamed about our fishie last night. Here's a little comfort because I can't handle all this pain. Good luck cuties, I hope our fishie comes home quickly 💜
#love and deepspace#l&ds#l&ds rafayel#l&ds x reader#l&ds smut#lads rafayel#lads x reader#lads#lads smut#rafayel love and deepspace#rafayel x reader#rafayel x mc#rafayel x you
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hiiiii hii hi hi ummm could you do jinx (anyone, but mainly jinx pls) with a reader just as clingy as her? not so much chaotic as her but they both always share that “pls don’t leave me” energy and bond over it, idk do whatever u want ofc, thank you !!
ᴡɪᴛʜɪɴ ʀᴇᴀᴄʜ
ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ/ꜱᴘɪᴄʏ? || 5226 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ꜱᴘɪᴄʏ? ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴘᴏꜱꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴠᴇɴᴇꜱꜱ (ᴏɴ ʏ/ɴ'ꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ)
ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ʜᴇʟʟᴏᴏᴏ ʜᴇʟʟᴏ ʜᴇʟʟᴏᴏᴏᴏᴏᴏ, ᴍʏ ꜱᴡᴇᴇᴛ! ɪ ᴄᴀɴ ᴍᴏꜱᴛ ᴄᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴʟʏ ᴅᴏ ɪᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴅᴏ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ɪᴛ!! <3 <3
ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx
JINX
The moment Jinx first laid eyes on you, something shifted inside her—a subtle spark that said you were different. Not in the “I can fix you” kind of way—she never wanted to be fixed—but in a way that quietly filled the emptiness, like discovering a mirror that reflected more than just her own loneliness.
It wasn’t long before you realized that the connection was mutual. You found yourself drawn to her erratic energy and vulnerability, clinging to her as fiercely as she clung to you. In your shared silences, in the unspoken assurances between hesitant touches, you both found a solace that the chaotic world around you never provided.
One chilly evening atop a worn rooftop in Zaun—where the city’s harsh neon glow danced against the dark sky—Jinx broke the silence. With her legs dangling over the edge, she mused, “Y’know, most people get all weird about this whole attachment thing.” Her eyes, alight with mischief and a hint of fear, searched yours for understanding.
You settled beside her on the crumbling ledge, drawing your knees close and resting your head lightly against her shoulder. “Like we care what most people think,” you replied, your voice soft but resolute.
A crooked smile spread across her face as she nudged your forehead with hers. “Exactly! That’s what I like about ya.” There was a quiet intimacy in that moment—a shared defiance against a world that always seemed intent on leaving you both behind.
For both of you, the bond was born of the same desperate energy: the need for someone to anchor you when everything felt like it was spiraling out of control. You never thought she was too much, even on nights when she clung to you after a terror-filled dream, or when she demanded you stay close while she lost herself tinkering with unpredictable explosives. And in return, she never questioned the way you’d reach for her hand when the uncertainty of life in Zaun grew overwhelming, or how you always made sure to be by her side when the world fell into a heavy, uneasy quiet.
Some might call this attachment unhealthy, but you both knew it was more—a lifeline amid chaos. Because in a city where every moment was a struggle to hold on, you only ever wanted one thing: to never be alone.
=
Then, one night as rain slicked the metal and concrete around you, she asked, almost in a whisper, “Where are you gonna go?” Her fingers toyed with one of her cherished bullets—a ritual of sorts whenever fear crept in.
“What do you mean?” you asked, genuine curiosity mingling with concern.
She paused, her eyes reflecting the harsh blue lights of Zaun. “Y’know… if everything goes to shit. If Zaun burns, if Piltover clamps down even harder, if—if everything falls apart.” The words hung in the air like a question with no easy answer.
A small frown creased your brow. “That’s a dumb question,” you said, though your tone betrayed the worry beneath your words.
Jinx’s fingers froze on the cold metal. “Oh?” she challenged softly, uncertainty flickering in her gaze.
Slowly, you turned your head, allowing the scattered light of Zaun to dance in your eyes as you gave her a look that said, without words, you idiot—I've got you. “If everything falls apart,” you murmured, “I’ll still be here.”
For a long moment, the only sound was the steady patter of rain against the metal. Then, almost imperceptibly, Jinx extended her pinky toward you. Before she could even fully process it, you responded in kind, interlocking your pinky with hers in a timeless gesture of promise. She stared at that small, tangible commitment—afraid, hopeful—and then gripped your hand a little tighter, as if anchoring herself to a lifeline.
“Yeah,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper yet filled with unwavering certainty, “I promise.”
In that simple act, the weight of a thousand unspoken fears eased just a little. It was a fragile promise in a world where nothing was certain, but it was enough. Because even if the streets of Zaun burned and the chaos of Piltover seeped into every corner of your lives, you knew that as long as you had each other, there was a chance to weather the storm.
JAYCE
The warm glow of Piltover’s streetlights bathed the city in a golden hue as you walked side by side with Jayce, your fingers loosely hooked around his arm. The night carried the scent of metal and oil from the nearby workshops, mixed with the faint aroma of fresh bread from a late-night bakery down the road. Despite the cool breeze brushing against your skin, the warmth radiating from Jayce’s body kept you comfortably snug, and as always, you couldn’t help but press yourself just a little closer.
Jayce let out a soft chuckle, his deep voice laced with amusement as he glanced down at you. “Y/N, you’re practically glued to me.”
“Mhm,” you hummed, nuzzling your head against his shoulder as your grip tightened around his bicep. “That’s because I missed you today.”
He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “We were only apart for a few hours.”
You pouted up at him, exaggerating the expression just to see if it would get a reaction. “That’s a few hours too long.”
Jayce smirked, shaking his head again, though the fondness in his chocolate-brown eyes was unmistakable. He pulled his arm free for a second—just enough to sling it around your shoulders and tug you even closer against him. “You really are something else, you know that?” His voice was full of mirth, but there was an undeniable tenderness beneath it.
You grinned up at him, taking the opportunity to slip your arms around his waist as you both continued walking. The streets of Piltover were mostly quiet now, the usual bustle of inventors and enforcers settling down for the night. The two of you strolled along at a leisurely pace, Jayce’s thumb rubbing gentle circles against your shoulder.
“Do you ever get tired of this?” you mused, your cheek pressed against his chest as you matched his steps.
He arched a brow. “Of what?”
“Me clinging to you all the time.”
Jayce let out a low chuckle and pressed a kiss against the top of your head. “Not even for a second.” His voice was sincere, steady, like he meant every word. “If anything, I’d say I’m the lucky one.”
You felt your heart do a little flip at that, your arms tightening slightly around him. “Good. Because you’re stuck with me.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
=
After a while, the two of you made it to his workshop, the familiar scent of parchment, oil, and metal filling the air as you stepped inside. The space was cluttered in a way that was undeniably Jayce—blueprints scattered across his desk, half-built contraptions lying around, and his signature hammer propped against the wall.
As soon as he sat down at his workbench, you wasted no time climbing onto his lap, draping your arms around his shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world. Jayce didn’t even flinch. If anything, he welcomed it, one of his hands automatically settling on your lower back as he reached for a pencil with the other.
“You know,” he murmured as he sketched, “if anyone else saw us like this, they’d probably think I’m completely whipped.”
“You are,” you teased, leaning in to nuzzle his cheek. “And you love it.”
Jayce exhaled a soft laugh, his free hand slipping up your spine to tangle in your hair. “Can’t even deny it,” he admitted, turning his head just enough to brush his lips against yours in a fleeting kiss.
You smiled triumphantly, feeling warm and utterly content. “Good answer.”
For a while, he actually tried to focus on his work, his pencil scratching against the paper as he murmured calculations under his breath. But every so often, you would shift in his lap, pressing a kiss to his jaw, tracing patterns along the back of his neck with your fingertips—little distractions that made him exhale in amusement, though he never once asked you to move.
“You’re gonna get distracted,” you murmured eventually, brushing your nose against his.
Jayce hummed, setting his pencil down and finally giving in, both of his arms wrapping tightly around you. “I already am,” he admitted, his voice softer this time. “But I don’t mind. Not when it’s you.”
A pleased hum left your lips as you melted into his embrace, pressing your forehead against his. His warmth, his scent, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat—it was all so perfectly Jayce, and you never wanted to be anywhere else.
Jayce tilted his head slightly, his lips brushing against your temple as he murmured, “I really do love how clingy you are, you know.”
“I know,” you whispered, grinning as you buried your face against his neck. “And you’re never getting rid of me.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he murmured back, his arms tightening just a little more around you.
And just like that, the rest of the world faded away, leaving only the two of you tangled together in the warmth of his workshop.
VIKTOR
The familiar creak of the apartment door opening was nearly drowned out by the howling wind outside. The bitter chill of the night air followed Viktor as he stepped inside, his cane tapping softly against the wooden floor. He exhaled, his breath slow and measured, exhaustion seeping into his very bones. Another late night. Another long evening lost to the glow of blueprints, the sharp scent of metal, and the endless calculations that cluttered his mind.
As much as he was devoted to his work, as much as his mind thrived in the pursuit of progress, there was only one thing—one person—who could make him feel like all of it was worth it. The thought of her waiting at home, the warmth of her presence lingering even when she wasn’t beside him, was what had kept him going through the hours of grueling research.
He leaned his cane against the wall and sighed, rolling his shoulders in an attempt to ease the tension settled deep in his muscles. The fatigue wasn’t just physical; it was mental, emotional—a weight that only lightened when he was home.
The apartment was quiet, bathed in the dim glow of candlelight from the bedroom, casting soft golden hues against the walls. His heart softened. She must have left it burning for him, just as she always did, a silent yet ever-present reminder that she was waiting.
He stepped forward, moving toward their shared bedroom, and the moment he pushed the door open, the sight before him made his tired heart ache.
She was curled up on his side of the bed, her small frame tucked beneath the thick blankets, her arms wrapped so tightly around his pillow that it might as well have been a lifeline. Her soft face was buried into the fabric, her lips slightly parted as she breathed steadily, the faintest trace of warmth lingering on the pillowcase where her breath had melted into it.
She looked so peaceful. So delicate in sleep, like a dream that would slip away if he made too much noise.
Viktor’s lips curled into a small, weary smile. He knew how much she craved his presence, how she always sought the warmth of his touch, the security of his embrace. She was clingy, some might say—always reaching for him, always resting her head against his shoulder, always finding little ways to touch him, whether it was intertwining her fingers with his or pressing herself into his side absentmindedly.
And he loved it.
It was grounding. She was grounding.
He had spent most of his life feeling distant—too absorbed in his work, too separated from those around him, too accustomed to being left behind. But not with her. No, never with her.
With her, he was not just Viktor the scientist, Viktor the co-creator of Hextech—he was simply Viktor. The man she loved. The man she waited for.
Carefully, he slipped out of his vest, letting the fabric fall away before loosening his tie and undoing the first few buttons of his shirt. The night had been long, but this… this was what made it worth it.
Moving slowly, he approached the bed, sitting on the edge with careful precision, not wanting to disturb her. His fingers reached out, brushing against a few strands of her hair, gently tucking them behind her ear. The warmth of her skin lingered beneath his touch, and his chest tightened at the way she instinctively leaned into it, even in sleep.
She mumbled something incoherent, shifting slightly before clutching his pillow even tighter, her brows furrowing as though she felt the emptiness of the bed beside her.
Viktor let out a soft chuckle, quiet but full of warmth. Even in sleep, she missed him.
His body was heavy with exhaustion, but he wanted to be close to her. Carefully, he lowered himself onto the bed, moving slowly so as not to wake her too suddenly. The mattress dipped under his weight, the familiar creak of the frame filling the silence.
And then, as soon as his warmth settled next to hers—she stirred.
“…Vik?” she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep, barely above a whisper.
“I am here, lásko,” he murmured, his accent soft, his voice full of quiet reassurance as his fingers ghosted over her cheek. (Love)
She hummed, barely opening her eyes before she let out a slow, sleepy sigh. Without hesitation, she released the pillow from her grasp—only to immediately replace it with him.
Her arms wrapped around him with surprising strength, her body shifting so she could mold herself against his. Her face pressed into his chest, nuzzling against the fabric of his half-unbuttoned shirt, her warmth sinking into him in a way that made the weight of exhaustion disappear, if only for a moment.
He let out a slow breath, a quiet chuckle humming against the top of her head. “You are clingy, even in your sleep, moje láska” (My love)
She only hummed, her fingers grasping at the fabric of his shirt as if making sure he stayed this time.
“I missed you…” she murmured, her words muffled against his chest, tinged with drowsiness.
His heart clenched at the softness of her voice. He pressed a lingering kiss to her temple, his lips warm against her skin.
“I am here now,” he whispered. “Sleep, moje láska.”
She exhaled slowly, her entire body melting into his like she had been waiting for this moment all night. Her breathing evened out again, her grip on him not loosening in the slightest.
And for the first time that day, Viktor felt at peace.
He closed his eyes, allowing himself to relax, to breathe in the comfort that was her.
She was always within reach
JAYVIK
The lab was warm, filled with the gentle hum of Hextech cores and the rhythmic scratching of Viktor’s pen against parchment. The soft glow from various devices cast long shadows against the walls, flickering slightly as if alive. The faint scent of oil, parchment, and a lingering trace of Jayce’s cologne mixed in the air, comforting in its familiarity.
Jayce, sleeves rolled up and brow furrowed in concentration, leaned heavily over a blueprint sprawled across the worktable. His muscles tensed as he studied the schematics, fingers twitching slightly as if he were already assembling the mechanism in his mind. Every so often, he would mutter something under his breath, adjusting a measurement or making quick annotations.
Viktor, on the other hand, sat poised, a stark contrast to Jayce’s fidgeting. His pen danced effortlessly across the page, notes forming in neat, efficient strokes. His golden eyes flickered toward Jayce now and then, a quiet amusement lingering in them at his partner’s obvious frustration.
And then there was you—nestled between them, wrapped up comfortably in one of Jayce’s coats with Viktor’s scarf draped over your shoulders. The coat smelled like him, like home—an earthy warmth mixed with hints of metal and the faint traces of whatever cologne he had dabbed on that morning. Viktor’s scarf was softer than expected, well-worn and slightly frayed at the edges, but you liked it that way. It smelled like ink and faintly of copper, a reminder of just how much time he spent in the lab.
You always needed to be touching one of them. It wasn’t even a conscious thought—just an instinct, a tether grounding you to them. Whether it was the warmth of Jayce’s arm beneath your fingertips or the way Viktor’s knee occasionally bumped against yours as he shifted in his seat, the contact soothed you. It was as if their presence alone wasn’t enough; you needed to feel it, to confirm that they were real, that they were here.
At that moment, one hand rested lightly on Viktor’s arm, feeling the warmth beneath his sleeve, while the other absentmindedly played with the hem of Jayce’s shirt. The soft fabric slipped between your fingers, an idle motion, but it kept you connected to him.
Jayce let out a deep sigh and leaned back, dragging a hand through his already tousled hair. “I think I’ve been staring at this too long,” he grumbled, closing his eyes for a brief moment.
“You have,” Viktor replied without looking up, adjusting his notes with careful precision. “Your handwriting is suffering.”
You giggled softly, shifting slightly to lean into Viktor’s side, careful of his cane propped against the table. “Told you so,” you teased, nudging him playfully.
Jayce cracked one eye open and shot you a playful glare. “Oh, so now you’re ganging up on me?”
You hummed in amusement, resting your head against Viktor’s shoulder. “Mhm. That’s what you get for not taking breaks.”
Viktor, ever the enabler of your clinginess, smirked and gave your knee a light pat. “She does have a point,” he mused.
Jayce groaned dramatically, stretching his arms above his head before reaching for you. Before you could react, he grabbed your waist and effortlessly pulled you onto his lap, securing you in place with a strong arm around your middle. You let out a small squeak of surprise, squirming slightly as he held you there.
“If you’re going to be so cuddly,” he murmured, voice deep and teasing against your ear, “at least distribute the affection evenly.”
You huffed but didn’t resist, letting yourself sink into his embrace, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath you. Even still, you stretched your arm out, fingers searching for Viktor’s. He didn’t hesitate, intertwining his fingers with yours in a quiet show of acceptance.
“Better?” you asked, peeking up at Viktor with a playful glint in your eyes.
He let out a soft, long-suffering sigh but squeezed your hand lightly. “You are insatiable,” he murmured, shaking his head slightly, though the fondness in his expression betrayed him.
You grinned unabashedly, nuzzling against Jayce’s chest while still holding onto Viktor’s hand. “You love it,” you said, your voice muffled against the fabric of Jayce’s shirt.
Jayce chuckled, his free hand stroking lazily up and down your back. “We do,” he admitted, pressing a warm kiss to your temple.
Viktor hummed in agreement, though he shifted slightly, as if debating whether to pull away from the moment to return to his work. You weren’t about to let him. With an exaggerated sigh, you tugged at his hand, keeping him anchored to you.
“No more work,” you insisted, peeking up at him. “Just for a little while.”
He looked at you, eyes scanning your expression as if trying to argue, but in the end, he relented. With another shake of his head, he exhaled and leaned back slightly.
“You are a terrible influence,” he murmured, though he made no move to pull away.
You beamed at him, victorious, and snuggled further into Jayce’s embrace, feeling the comforting weight of Viktor’s hand still holding yours.
The work would still be there in an hour. But right now? Right now, none of you were in any hurry to move.
VANDER
The Last Drop was quiet tonight. A rare thing, considering the usual hustle and bustle of Zaun’s infamous bar. Normally, the air would be filled with the sounds of laughter, the clinking of glasses, the occasional scuffle breaking out in the corner. But tonight, it was different. The usual patrons had either stumbled home early or were deep in quiet conversations at their tables, leaving the bar unusually subdued. The dim lanterns above flickered, casting long, warm shadows across the wooden walls.
But none of that mattered to you.
Because he was here.
Vander.
Your Vander.
The sight of him alone was enough to pull you in. He sat at the counter, broad and sturdy as ever, nursing a tankard of ale in one hand while his other absentmindedly rested against the wood. His expression was unreadable, but you could tell—he was thinking about something. He always did that when things got too quiet. His brows would furrow just the slightest, his jaw would tense, and his fingers would flex as if grasping at something unseen.
You hated seeing that look on him. It wasn’t that you didn’t respect the weight he carried—how much he took on for everyone, how much he sacrificed—but you wished he didn’t feel like he had to do it alone.
So, naturally, you did what you always did.
With a soft sigh, you draped yourself over his shoulders from behind, arms winding around his thick frame, pressing your cheek against the worn fabric of his coat. He was solid and warm, the scent of smoke, leather, and a faint trace of ale filling your senses.
Vander let out a gruff chuckle, setting his drink down as he tilted his head just enough to acknowledge you. His thick, calloused fingers reached up, lazily brushing against your arm.
“Again, love?” His voice was low, rough in a way that sent a pleasant shiver down your spine. But it was warm too, like embers glowing beneath the ash.
“Mhm.” You hummed, nuzzling into his shoulder, arms tightening around him like a lifeline. “You’re so comfy.”
He let out a deep sigh, one that might’ve sounded exasperated if not for the undeniable fondness laced through it. His broad chest rose and fell beneath you, steady and sure.
“Y’know, people are watchin’.” His voice held a teasing edge, but beneath it, there was something else. An unspoken question.
Are you sure you wanna be this close to me in front of everyone?
You barely hesitated.
“So?” you murmured, pressing a kiss against the rough stubble along his jaw. The scratchy texture made you smile. “They already know you’re mine.”
That got him.
Vander let out a deep, rumbling chuckle, the sound reverberating through his chest and into you. His shoulders shook slightly with it, the tension he’d been holding onto melting away like ice meeting warmth. He shook his head, but you could see it—the way his lips twitched, fighting a smile.
His hands, strong and scarred, slid up your wrists, prying you away just enough so he could turn on the barstool to face you. The moment he did, you climbed into his lap without hesitation, making yourself comfortable as if you belonged there. Because you did.
He let you settle, his large hands bracketing your waist, holding you against him like you might slip away if he let go. You could feel the heat of him through your clothes, the slow, steady rise and fall of his breathing.
“You’re somethin’ else,” he murmured, his gaze flickering over your face like he was memorizing every inch of it.
You grinned, poking a finger against his chest. “Something you love.”
A beat passed. His expression softened, something unspoken lingering in his stormy blue eyes.
“Yeah,” he admitted, voice lower now, rougher in a way that made your heart stutter. His grip on you tightened slightly, fingers pressing into the fabric of your shirt as if anchoring himself. “Something I love.”
That was all you needed to hear.
You melted into him, resting your head against his broad chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. He smelled like home—like smoke and steel, but beneath that, something distinctly him. Safe. Familiar. Yours.
His fingers moved, slow and absentminded, tracing circles against your lower back. The touch was warm, soothing, like he was grounding himself as much as he was grounding you.
“Y’know,” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper, “you could just carry me everywhere. I wouldn’t mind.”
Vander let out another deep chuckle, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“Mhm.”
He shook his head, but his arms didn’t move from around you. Instead, they tightened just a little, as if silently agreeing with your request.
“Spoiled little thing,” he muttered, though there was no bite to it—just adoration.
And, well—if he held you just a little tighter after that, neither of you mentioned it.
SILCO
The atmosphere in The Last Drop was thick with smoke and the murmurs of business, as always. Silco held his usual commanding presence, sharp-eyed and unreadable, every movement deliberate. He stood at the center of the room, a sharp contrast to the chaos surrounding him—where others drank, gambled, or plotted, he remained poised, a force of control amid the unpredictability of Zaun.
You stood beside him, posture composed, expression neutral, as though the act of restraint didn’t tear at you from the inside out. It was a battle you fought every time you were by his side in public. You knew better than to cling to him, knew that in the eyes of others, Silco was a man who demanded power, respect, and unwavering loyalty. He had cultivated an image, one that didn’t allow for softness, for indulgence, for anything that could be perceived as weakness.
But it was so hard.
Your fingers twitched at your side, aching to reach for him, to feel his warmth, to remind yourself that he was there, close enough to touch. But you held yourself back, forcing your hands to remain still, curling them into small fists to resist the urge. It was second nature to want to be near him—to press yourself against him, to let his presence ground you, to absorb his very essence. But out here, in front of everyone, that wasn’t allowed.
Still, he noticed.
While he discussed dealings with Finn, while Sevika hovered nearby with a drink in hand, his sharp gaze flicked toward you—once, twice—brief, calculating glances that told you he saw everything. The way your body tensed with effort, the way you stood rigidly in place, the way your lips pressed together in frustration.
And then, without a word, his gloved fingers brushed against yours.
It was so subtle, so fleeting, that you might have thought it accidental. But before you could dwell on it, his fingers deliberately laced with yours, pressing firm, solid, real.
Your breath caught, your heart thudding against your ribs.
It was small, barely noticeable, but to you, it was everything.
You held onto that touch for the rest of the evening, even after he withdrew his hand to return to business. It was enough to get you through, enough to keep you from crumbling beneath your own restraint. But every second that passed, every deal he struck, every hushed conversation he had, you counted down to the moment you could finally have him to yourself.
And then, after what felt like an eternity, the two of you returned to the privacy of his office.
=
The second the door clicked shut, it was as though an invisible chain snapped. You surged forward, wrapping your arms around his waist, pressing yourself into him as though you might melt into his very being. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his vest, clutching it like a lifeline as you buried your face into his chest. He smelled of cigars and expensive cologne, a familiar scent that wrapped around you like a blanket.
Silco let out a soft huff of amusement, though his arms came around you easily, pulling you flush against him. His grip was firm, his touch practiced, as though he expected this from you the moment the door closed.
"You," he murmured, voice tinged with amusement, "must you always act like you’ve been starved of affection?"
You nodded without hesitation, your cheek pressed against the warmth of his chest. "Yes."
He let out a low chuckle, his fingers stroking absentmindedly down your back, tracing small, slow circles. "You held back admirably."
"I hated it," you admitted, your voice muffled against his vest. "I just want to hold you all the time."
Silco sighed, tilting your chin up with a gentle touch, forcing you to meet his mismatched eyes. The red one gleamed in the dim light, sharp yet softened by something unreadable. "You do realize I am not going anywhere?"
"Don’t care," you muttered, nuzzling into the crook of his neck, inhaling the scent of him. "Let me be clingy now."
His lips brushed over your temple, and this time, there was no teasing, no sharp amusement—only quiet understanding.
"Very well," he murmured, then took your hand and led you toward the worn leather couch near the fireplace.
He sat first, sinking into the cushions with the ease of a man who had lived a thousand battles, and you wasted no time following. You practically threw yourself onto him, arms winding around his torso as you half-climbed into his lap, tucking yourself against him like a puzzle piece meant to fit. Silco exhaled softly, one arm draping over your shoulders, the other hand resting idly against your hip as he leaned back into the couch.
For a man so guarded, so sharp and calculating, he had a way of holding you that made you feel like the most precious thing in the world. His touch was firm, grounding, as though even in these rare moments of stillness, he was unwilling to let you slip away.
You let out a deep, content sigh, shifting slightly to get even closer. "This is better."
Silco hummed in agreement, fingers threading lazily through your hair. "I imagine you'd suffocate me if given the chance."
"Probably," you admitted, voice drowsy with comfort. "Wouldn't even regret it."
His chest rumbled with amusement, but he didn't move away, didn't push you off. If anything, his arm tightened around you just slightly, just enough for you to feel it.
You stayed like that for a long time, wrapped up in the warmth of each other, away from the prying eyes of the world. Here, there was no restraint, no expectations—just the quiet understanding between two people who knew how cruel the world could be, but had found solace in one another.
And Silco, despite all his carefully cultivated power and distance, let you cling to him for as long as you needed.
#Arcane#arcane fandom#arcane fluff#reader insert#jinx x platonic!reader#jayce x reader#jayce x you#jayce talis x reader#jayce x y/n#viktor x y/n#viktor x reader#jayce x reader x viktor#viktor x you#vander x reader#silco x reader#jayvik x reader
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1st batch of random sketches of a loose ivlk au idea
in which ivan is a vocalist/lyricist in a band who lost his inspiration for music and finds it in luka, a burnt out musical prodigy, after getting entangled with him almost by fate; they become each others muse and obsession - and comfort
they share the similarity of being musical prodigies with abusive guardians/upbringing; ivan ran away from his and lives a free and unrestrained life singing in underground bars and clubs in a band he only joined bc of his best friend/childhood love. his feelings went unrequited for many years until he eventually and recently slowly got over it, coming to terms its no use and that they would never have a chance since hes "too intense", "too much", "not normal". bc of this, his inspiration disappeared since till was his muse all this time
luka stayed and became a golden-caged songbird, objectified and used by his possessive guardian bc of his talent. he was trained strictly since childhood and forced to perform on stage, study and pursue music, the only thing that he truly enjoys, to utmost perfection to the point of burn out and beyond. his guardian eventually passed and it left luka free but since his entire life was planned and dictated and control taken from him, he feels lost and alone, unsure what to do. music was the only purpose in his life, the only thing hes good at, he can do; hes burnt out and exhausted but still continues, the things his guardian ingrained into his mind still controlling his behavior and life
when luka meets ivan, his love for music gets rekindled without the pressure and abuse that loomed over him all his life; when ivan meets luka, his inspiration and love returns. theyre both scarred from their similar upbringing and situation which influences a lot of things they are/do (e.g. tendencies to become obsessive/possessive,...) theyre both considered and branded "odd" by people around them but they learn they can let go of their masks around each other and be themselves, finding comfort and healing together. what started as an entanglement w mutual benefits grows into mutual love
i babbled quite a bit kjhbkjbj.. 🧍♀️
(as obvious above, i love keeping close to canon while also mixing in own thoughts/my hcs when i do AUs so yea, luka still has asthma, migraines etcetc, but theyre also both autistic (not planning to make it relevant or focus, im just throwing it out there) and luka has an ED)
#own art#sketch#ivanluka#alnst ivan#alnst luka#alien stage#ivlk AU#until i think of a fitting one word AU tag
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❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ 𓍢 ATTENTION kang haerin x reader



♪ ❝you give me butterflies, you know?.❞ | yn and haerin from bubblegum 🫧
❀ yn finally getting haerin’s attention during how sweet & supernatural era 875k views
➩ INTRO… 📼( yn during debut era)
yn let out a quiet laugh as she flipped through the cue cards in her hands. “which member do you hang out with the most?” she read aloud, her voice carrying a hint of curiosity.
she looked up at the ceiling in thought, absently adjusting the over the top outfit she’d been styled in for the group’s photoshoot. “hmmm,” she mused, dragging out the sound as a small smile tugged at her lips, “I’ll say hyein. hyein and I hang out alone a lot.”
“but, like, I also hang out with everyone,” she added with a bubbly giggle, her bright energy filling the room. “except for haerin unnie. haerin unnie doesn’t talk to me.” she burst into laughter, her playful comment making the staff in the background chuckle along with her
turning to the camera, she clasped her hands together dramatically. “kang haerin, give me attention,” she pleaded, her tone equal parts playful and exaggerated. without missing a beat, she grinned and broke into song, “you got me looking for attentionnnn,” only to cut herself off with another laugh, unable to keep a straight face.
➩ CLIP #1 PLAYING… 📼
“I’m having so much fun filming today,” yn says to the camera, her eyes shining with excitement as she adjusts the collar of her white button up shirt. “I feel like jumping into the water... but I can’t swim,” she adds with a sheepish laugh.
“we actually finished filming like a three days ago but now we have to retake some stuff.”
leaning in extra close to the camera, she lowers her voice playfully, as if sharing a secret. “all my members like how sweet more, but me? I love bubble gum,” she declares with a cheeky grin before pulling back with a dramatic wink.
“sweet like bubblegum,” yn starts singing, breaking into a playful dance in front of the camera, completely lost in her own world. she doesn’t even notice haerin quietly approaching from behind until she casually links her arm with yn’s mid spin
yn lets out a surprised yelp, whipping around to face haerin, who’s laughing softly at her reaction.
“how did you get here?!” yn exclaims, her eyes wide with mock shock. she turns to the camera, pointing an accusatory finger at haerin. “she’s been popping up on me all day just out of nowhere!”
➩ CLIP #2 PLAYING… 📼
yn stood on the music bank stage, her bright smile shining as she waved enthusiastically at the fans in the crowd. she leaned over slightly, doing her best to engage in small conversations with them despite the noise and chaos of the venue.
completely absorbed in the fans' energy, yn didn’t notice haerin quietly sneaking up beside her.
haerin stood there, staring at yn with a patient yet expectant expression, waiting for her to notice. but yn remained blissfully unaware, too caught up in her interactions.
finally, haerin gave up and tugged lightly on yn’s arm. “oh!” yn exclaimed with a laugh, spinning around. “I didn’t even notice you!”
haerin rolled her eyes, the corners of her lips twitching upward ever so slightly before she turned and walked away to get in her position.
yn quickly trailed after her, calling out her name, while the rest of the members burst into laughter, amused by the duo’s antics.
➩ CLIP #3 PLAYING… 📼
yn and haerin sat side by side, chatting with fans and reading comments during the live. haerin glanced over at yn, who was fiddling with a flower clip in her hair, trying to get it to sit just right.
yn leaned forward slightly, squinting to read a comment aloud. “sawako and kurumi,” she said before gasping and breaking into a giggle.
“what?” haerin asked, tilting her head as she watched yn flash her a bright smile.
“guys, haerin’s never watched kimi ni todoke, so she won’t get it,” yn explained to the live with a teasing tone before turning to haerin. “they’re characters from the show, and fans like to ship them. they’re saying we look like them.”
“ship?” haerin asked, her brows furrowing in confusion as she gave yn a curious look.
yn covered her mouth, stifling a laugh. “it means they want them in a relationship,” she clarified, her words laced with amusement.
haerin’s eyebrows shot up in surprise before she leaned to the side, purposely taking her face out of the camera frame. yn couldn’t help but burst into laughter, leaning toward haerin as if to coax her back into view.
➩ CLIP #4 PLAYING… 📼
the camera captured yn and haerin as they walked out of the venue after the 2ne1 concert, their hands intertwined effortlessly. the two led the way, standing slightly ahead of the other members, who trailed behind at a more slower pace.
yn turned to haerin, leaning in to say something, but her words were drowned out by the commotion of flashing cameras and excited murmurs.
haerin’s expression shifted into a surprised smile, her gaze dropping briefly to their interlocked hands before returning to yn’s face.
suddenly, without a word, yn and haerin broke into a run, their laughter barely audible over the chaos as they made a dash toward the waiting van, their hands still clasped tightly together
while haerin made her way into the van she looked at yn who was still outside the van waving to the camera, she lightly tugged yn’s hand pulling her into the van, while the rest of the members walked towards the van.
as haerin climbed into the van, she glanced back at yn, who had paused to wave enthusiastically at the cameras. with a small, gentle tug on yn’s hand, haerin pulled her into the van, her expression unreadable but soft. moments later, the rest of the members arrived, casually following in behind them.
➩ CLIP #5 PLAYING… 📼
as the girls performed ditto on the tokyo dome stage, haerin’s gaze flickered toward yn, who seemed to be blinking back tears as she sang. the emotional weight of the moment was evident in the way yn’s voice quivered ever so slightly.
without hesitation, haerin reached out with her free hand, her movements subtle, yn noticed and turned to her, confusion flickering across her tearful eyes.
after a moment’s pause, yn hesitantly interlocked her fingers with haerin’s, her lips curving into a small, grateful smile.
haerin, however, kept her gaze steady, focused on the sea of glowing lightsticks that painted the arena in waves of color.
they danced with their hands interlocked, they only let go when the choreography forced them to, but the silent exchange lingered.
➩ CLIP #6 PLAYING… 📼
the girls were filming a variety show segment that involved cooking in teams. yn and haerin had been paired together, much to yn’s excitement and haerin’s quiet amusement.
“haerin, can you hand me the salt?” yn asked as she stirred the pot of soup.
haerin handed her sugar instead, watching silently as yn sprinkled it into the pot.
“wait” yn froze, staring at the container in her hand. “this is sugar!”
haerin let out a small laugh, her eyes crinkling slightly. “you didn’t check?”
“you sabotaged me!” yn cried dramatically, pointing an accusatory spoon at haerin.
the other members burst into laughter as yn huffed, but haerin simply took the spoon from yn’s hand, gently stirring the pot to fix the soup.
“don’t worry, I’ve got this,” haerin said calmly, earning a soft smile from yn as they continued cooking together.
➩ CLIP #7 PLAYING… 📼
during a break in rehearsals, yn sat cross legged on the floor, munching on a snack and scrolling through her phone. haerin walked over, and silently sat down beside her.
“want some?” yn asked, holding out her half eaten snack.
haerin hesitated for a moment before leaning in and taking a big bite. yn watched her with wide eyes before bursting into laughter.
➩ CLIP #8 PLAYING… 📼
while filming for a reality show, the members were asked to write letters to each other and read them aloud. yn, ever the sentimental one, had written a heartfelt letter to haerin.
“to kang haerin unnie,” yn began, her voice soft but laced with humor. “even though you scare me sometimes with how quiet and mysterious you are, I think you’re actually a big softie on the inside.”
haerin chuckled quietly, shaking her head as yn continued.
“thank you for always looking out for me, even when I don’t notice,” yn said, her tone growing more sincere. “you might not say much, but your actions speak louder than words. like when you secretly put a blanket over me when I fall asleep in the van.”
haerin glanced away, clearly a bit flustered, as the other members teased her.
➩ CLIP #8 PLAYING… 📼
yn stood in the kitchen, flipping pancakes. “ I’m making breakfast today… my members always say I’m bad at cooking but good at baking, so let’s see how this goes.” she laughed, tossing a pancake onto the plate.
just then, haerin appeared, looking sleepy. yn grinned and waved her over. “you want some?” she asked, breaking a piece of toast and offering it to haerin.
haerin took the piece, biting into it. “not bad,” she said.
“hey, progress!” yn chuckled.
➩ CLIP #9 PLAYING… 📼
yn and haerin strolled through a chic boutique, yn’s eyes lighting up as she spotted a cute pair of shoes. “oh my god, these are so cute!” she exclaimed, picking them up and holding them to the camera. “I want them…” she pouted playfully, glancing at the camera. “but minji unnie told me I need to take a break from shopping. she says I spend too much.”
haerin raised an eyebrow, looking at yn with a slight grin. “you do love shopping…” she teased, watching yn move to another rack, her excitement never waning.
yn sighed dramatically, her lower lip sticking out. “I can’t help it, everything’s so cute!”
haerin nodded her head reaching for the shoes. “I’ll get them for you,” she said, earring a squeal from yn.

#new jeans#new jeans x reader#kang haerin#kang haerin x reader#haerin#haerin x reader#haerin newjeans#girl group imagines#girl group fluff#bubblegum!yn
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i just had the BEST FIC IDEA ever listenlistenlisten so like what if the reader is like a violinist or something that performs at the casino where aventurine gambles (they’re partners), and lets say she was just kind of beside him while he was gambling with someone after she had just performed, and then when deciding on the next thing to gamble or whatever the guy starts asking to bet the reader and makes comments on her being talented n shit and just overall creepy comments, and immediately aventurine is all what the fuck hell no and gets all protective and stuff😨😨😨😨😨😨😨😨😨😨 (is it obvious that my crippling fanfic addiction got to me at school)
Some Things Are Off the Table
Summary: After a stunning violin performance at the casino, you sit beside Aventurine as he indulges in a high-stakes gamble. When his opponent makes an unsettling suggestion—betting you as part of the game—Aventurine’s carefree facade shatters, revealing a fiercely protective side. He swiftly shuts down the idea, making it clear that you are not a prize to be won. As tensions ease, Aventurine reassures you in his own charming way that, while he may gamble with everything else, he would never gamble with you.
Tags: Aventurine x Female!Reader, Protective Aventurine, Slow Burn, Possessive Behavior, Subtle Angst, Fluff with a Hint of Danger, Banter, Established Relationship.
Warnings: Mild Threats, Uncomfortable Advances, Protective Behavior, Gambling Themes, Slight Language, Light Angst.

The air in the casino buzzed with tension, the scent of expensive cologne and spiced liquor hanging thick in the atmosphere. Golden lights flickered above, casting a warm, decadent glow over the velvet-draped tables where fortunes were made and lost in the blink of an eye.
You sat beside Aventurine, the smooth lacquer of your violin still warm beneath your fingers from your recent performance. The crowd had adored you, as they always did, but the real audience that mattered sat beside you now—Aventurine, eyes gleaming like chips on the table, hands deftly playing a different kind of game.
Cards flicked between his fingers as he leaned back in his chair, a lopsided grin playing at his lips. His opponent—a wealthy investor with a penchant for reckless bets—matched his smile with something far less charming. You recognized the type immediately. Greedy, arrogant, and drunk on power, the kind who thought the world revolved around their whims.
"Aventurine, my friend," the man drawled, taking a sip of his brandy, "we've been raising the stakes all night. Your money, my money—it’s all getting rather predictable, don’t you think?"
Aventurine twirled a golden chip between his fingers, feigning boredom. "And here I thought unpredictability was the charm of the game. Got something more interesting in mind?"
The man’s gaze slid toward you. A cold prickle ran down your spine as his smirk widened. "Your lovely companion here," he mused, tapping a finger against the table. "She’s quite the talented thing, isn’t she? Stunning performance earlier. Seems like she’s worth quite a bit herself."
Your breath hitched. The room felt stifling, the weight of his words pressing down like an unwelcome touch. Aventurine’s fingers stopped mid-spin, the chip clattering onto the table. Slowly, languidly, he leaned forward, his ever-present grin sharpening into something dangerous.
"You must be joking," he said lightly, though there was no humor in his tone. "You’re a braver man than I thought if you believe you can wager a person. Let alone—" his eyes flicked to you for the briefest second, unreadable yet burning with something fiercely protective, "—mine."
The man chuckled, oblivious to the sudden shift in atmosphere. "Oh, come now. It’s all in good fun. A little game, a little risk. You’re a gambler, aren’t you? What’s the harm in—"
Aventurine moved faster than you could register. One hand slammed onto the table, sending chips scattering, while the other clamped down on the man’s wrist in an iron grip. The jovial, carefree mask had cracked, revealing something cold and lethal beneath.
"Let me make something crystal clear," he murmured, voice smooth but sharp as a blade. "I gamble with money, property, my own damn life if I feel like it. But her?" He jerked his chin toward you. "She’s not a bet. She’s not a prize. And she’s sure as hell not yours to even think about."
The investor paled, his bravado faltering under Aventurine’s piercing gaze.
A beat passed. Then another.
Aventurine smiled again, slow and deliberate, as if nothing had happened. He released the man’s wrist and leaned back, picking up a stray chip. "Now, if you’ll excuse me, I believe I’ve lost interest in this game." He flicked the chip across the table. "Consider that my final wager. Play with yourself if you’re so desperate for stakes."
With that, he stood and turned to you, offering his hand. "Shall we?" His voice had softened, but the fire in his eyes remained. Without hesitation, you took it, letting him guide you away from the table and the lingering stares of onlookers.
As soon as you were away from prying ears, he let out a sharp breath, his grip tightening around your fingers. "The audacity of some people, huh?" he muttered, a ghost of irritation still clinging to his tone. Then, softer, "You alright?"
You squeezed his hand back, offering a small smile. "I’m fine."
His gaze searched yours, assessing, before his signature smirk returned. "Good. Because if that bastard so much as looks your way again, he’s leaving this casino with a lot more than just an empty wallet."
You laughed, the tension finally breaking. "And here I thought you didn’t play for keeps."
Aventurine tilted his head, eyes gleaming as he lifted your hand to press a lingering kiss against your knuckles. "For you? Always."
And just like that, the game continued—but this time, you weren’t just a spectator. You were the one thing Aventurine would never gamble with.

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