#never seen something as bright as or felt a sound so deeply in my heart before

[sparingiscaring]

Suddenly reminded of that time the US Public School System nearly got me struck by lightning ✌️

[bleedichor]

lucifer morningstar x fem! reader

you help comfort him after his meet up with his lovely daughter ꓹ⠀ charlie. [ no warnings. fluff. silly nicks. ]

The moment he took a step back in his castle, he felt the overwhelming feeling of panic. His chest was heavy, he was filled with dread, and somewhat bitter joy. It had been over centuries since he’s spoken to his own kin, his daughter whom he adored. His steps sounded heavy, almost like he was trying to carry his own weight. which alerted y/n of his arrival. She left her study and saw him in the hall, gripping his staff and tears threatening to fall.

“Honey pie, what’s wrong?” she walked cautiously, studying his body language and the clear evidence of tears. “Charlie..” he hiccups and began to cry. “Oh.. honey..,” she strolled over to him and lifted his face in her hands. “Charlie wants to get into contact with heaven. I still have my doubts but..” he spoke carefully as she gently wiped his tears with her thumbs. He relaxed in her touch, letting himself breathe.

“But you know you owe her this? Charlie is a bright girl, much like her father” she chuckled and smiled up to him. he smiled a bit then nodded. “I do owe her at least this, I wish you could have seen her.. she was magnificent. Her dreams are beautiful and she cares deeply for all of her people. She’s a wonderful woman now. I’m so proud of her.” He leaned his forehead against her own as they both shared a smile as tears silently fell from his cheek.

“I wish I was there for her, but I was so stuck in my own failures that I didn’t even realize how much I missed out on. I tried so hard to show everyone that freedom is a beautiful thing and yet—” y/n gently placed a kiss on his forehead to stop himself from spiraling into despair.

“Don’t say that about yourself. Stop it. You tried all you could do for your people and even then you tried that’s something you should be proud of. You never gave up.. and even if you did, you still dreamed about it day ‘n night. You’re amazing honey pie.. truly. You should give the helping hand that no one gave to you to Charlie.. you’re the only demon who could help her and plus she only has one father.” She winked and smiled.

He gently gave her a kiss on the lips and stood up straight, almost like a routine. She dusted his shoulders and coat then straightened his collar. “I’m so grateful to have a daughter like Charlie..” she held his hands, feeling the cold feeling of his ring.

She didn’t acknowledge it facially but she knew he loved his ex-wife and daughter with all his heart. It’s something that a new woman couldn’t change, it’s something she had to understand but she knew she loved the man he is. He’s a loving man and she knew he was going to commit to that promise to his daughter. “And.. I know I don’t say it much but I love you so much y/n, my beautiful beautiful apple” he kissed her once more, their hands enveloping each other.

Once they pulled apart she let out a soft giggle and fixed his hat “now go do as you promised and make your daughter proud.”

[jmkjournalblog]

"Soulmates" Part 2

Part 1

Pairing:Wednesday Addams x FemVampire! Reader

Summary: The Fem!reader, vampire with a penchant for dark humor and psychopathic tendencies, is sent to Nevermore Academy by her parents following an unpleasant incident involving the murder of a couple of triple students in her previous school. Despite their contrasting personalities, the reader and Wednesday form a complex bond, navigating their differences while facing challenges that threaten to keep them apart.

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes

Warnings: None

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Y/n POV

My boots clicked against the cobbled pathways as I trailed slightly behind Enid and Wednesday. The cold seeped into my skin, but it was a welcome chill—reminding me that I was awake, alive, and in the midst of something new and dangerous. 

Enid chattered on about classes, the cafeteria’s dubious offerings, and the school’s annual Poe Cup race. She walked between me and Wednesday, trying desperately to bridge the chasm of our conflicting energies. Her voice, warm and bright, seemed to wrap itself around us, a shield against the gloom. I tried to listen, but my senses were sharper than usual, picking up every rustle of the wind, every whisper of movement around the stone parapets.

And then I felt it—a shift in the air, like static before a storm. My eyes flicked upward, catching sight of a massive stone gargoyle teetering precariously on the edge of the nearest building. Time slowed. In that instant, I saw it lean, its shadow stretching long and ominous across the courtyard.

“Wednesday!” I shouted, already moving.

I didn’t think. My body reacted, faster than I’d ever needed to move before. In a blur, I lunged, tackling her to the ground. We hit the cold stone hard; I cushioned her fall, but it was far from graceful. The gargoyle crashed to the spot she’d been standing, splintering into jagged shards. Dust filled the air, mingling with the scent of crushed stone.

I was on my feet in an instant, senses searching for the threat. My eyes, now blazing, scanned for movement in the shadows above. Whoever had done this was either very bold or very stupid. When I felt no immediate danger, I turned my attention back to Wednesday, still on the ground.

Her dark eyes were locked on me, a mix of shock, rage, and—dare I say it—a hint of something else. She quickly masked it, but I’d seen it. Vulnerability. And it struck me more deeply than I cared to admit.

“Get off me,” she said coldly, her voice as sharp as the shards scattered around us. She pushed herself upright, brushing dirt from her clothing. I expected her to be grateful—or at the very least acknowledge what had just happened. But this was Wednesday.

“Not even a ‘thank you’?” I asked, my voice low but laced with something raw, something I couldn’t quite suppress. I’d just saved her life.

Her eyes met mine, unblinking. “I didn’t ask to be saved.”

“You’re welcome,” I said, stepping closer, my voice losing its playful edge. “Even if you’d prefer to be flattened by a gargoyle.”

She didn’t flinch, didn’t even blink. But her breathing was slightly faster, her gaze searching mine. For what, I couldn’t tell. “If you think that earns you any kind of favor, you’re mistaken.”

I exhaled, a humorless laugh escaping me. “You’re really something, you know that?”

Her expression didn’t change. But there was a spark in her eyes—an acknowledgment that, despite her words, she’d felt something. She stepped past me, brushing my shoulder. “Don’t expect gratitude from me, Y/n. Your heroics are… unnecessary.”

I watched her walk away, every fiber of my being alive with tension. I had never wanted to both throttle and kiss someone more in my life.

Wednesday POV

Wednesday strode quickly, the sound of gravel crunching under her shoes grounding her. Her heart was pounding, and she cursed herself for the betrayal of her own physiology. Why did this girl, this aggravating, cocky newcomer, make her feel so… off balance?

In the distance, she heard Enid’s voice, calling after her with frantic worry. She forced herself to slow, to breathe, to appear unfazed. She needed control. Always.

“Wednesday! Are you okay?” Enid’s voice was frantic, and she gripped Wednesday’s arm with surprising strength.

“I’m fine.” The words were curt, but Enid’s grip tightened. Wednesday’s eyes met hers, softened slightly by the uncharacteristic display of worry. “Truly, Enid. It was a coward’s attempt.”

“Still, it could’ve—” Enid’s gaze flicked to Y/n, who stood a few paces back, watchful, tension evident in the set of her jaw.

Wednesday turned away, focusing on her breathing, on the anger simmering beneath her skin. She hated needing help. But she’d been seconds from a painful, possibly fatal end. And she couldn’t quite shake the way Y/n’s voice had cracked when she’d shouted her name.

“I’ll find who did this,” Y/n said, voice low and dangerous. It wasn’t a question. It was a vow.

“Do whatever you like,” Wednesday replied, refusing to meet her gaze again. “But don’t expect me to owe you anything.”

Y/n’s lips curved into a humorless smile. “I never do.”

And with that, she turned and walked away, leaving Wednesday with the realization that for all her careful plans, all her walls—there was a crack. A very, very dangerous crack.

******

The crowd had started to thin, curiosity satisfied for now. Some students whispered as they walked by, eyes darting to Y/n and then quickly away. The sound of crunching stone underfoot punctuated the silence, and as the commotion faded, Y/n found herself standing alone for a moment, watching Wednesday's retreating back.

She clenched her jaw, feeling an unexpected weight in her chest. Annoyance, mixed with something far more complicated. She’d acted on pure instinct. She wasn’t sure what she had expected in return—gratitude, certainly not—but Wednesday’s cold dismissal struck deeper than it should have. She turned sharply on her heel, shaking her head, and made her way toward the forest edge. She needed air, space to think, and to cool the simmering heat of anger, frustration, and a hint of fear she still couldn’t shake.

The woods were thick with life, the scents and sounds amplified by my heightened senses. Birds rustled above, and small animals scurried through the underbrush. I took deep, steadying breaths, but my mind was restless, racing with everything that had just happened. That gargoyle wasn’t some random accident—it was deliberate. Someone had aimed for Wednesday, and that meant the stakes were higher than I’d thought.

But even as I replayed the scene, the sound of her heartbeat against my chest lingered. Her scent—a mix of pine, ink, and something uniquely her—clung to me. I cursed myself for noticing, for caring, when I’d promised myself I wouldn’t.

“You’re getting sloppy,” I muttered aloud. “Dangerously sloppy.”

The snap of a twig pulled me from my thoughts. I spun around, fangs bared. But it wasn’t a threat. It was Yoko, her dark eyes gleaming as she leaned casually against a tree trunk, arms folded across her chest.

“Rough day?” she asked, a hint of amusement in her voice.

I relaxed slightly, though I didn’t let my guard down. “You could say that.”

She stepped closer, her gaze flicking over me with a curiosity that was anything but casual. “Word spreads fast here. You saved Wednesday Addams. Bold move.”

“I wasn’t trying to be bold,” I said, meeting her eyes. “Just doing what needed to be done.”

Yoko tilted her head, her smile a touch too knowing. “Still. Not everyone would’ve jumped in like that.”

Her words, though seemingly harmless, carried an edge of challenge. I chose not to rise to it. “What do you want, Yoko?”

She moved closer, and I noticed the faint glint of crimson at her throat—likely some concealed charm or ward. Smart, considering what she was. “Maybe I just want to see if you’re as interesting as everyone says.”

“And?” I crossed my arms, forcing my body to relax. It was a game, and she was playing it well.

Her smile widened, showing the barest hint of fangs. “Still deciding.”

She turned and started to walk away, pausing just long enough to throw a parting glance over her shoulder. “If you’re looking for allies, or just a way to blow off steam… I’m not hard to find.”

As she disappeared into the shadows, I felt a flicker of something resembling intrigue. But there was no time to dwell on it. I needed answers. Whoever was targeting Wednesday had just made this personal.

*timeskip*

The sun dipped low, casting the dormitory hallway in warm hues of amber and crimson. I walked beside Enid, her endless chatter filling the otherwise quiet space. She spoke of the upcoming carnival with childlike enthusiasm, her bright energy a welcome contrast to Nevermore's dark corners. It was amusing, watching her bounce from one topic to another like a hyperactive puppy, but my attention was elsewhere. Specifically, I could feel a pair of eyes boring into me.

Wednesday Addams walked just a pace behind us, her stare unwavering, analytical. The air between us was always charged, a pull of magnetic forces she’d never admit to feeling. I caught sight of my reflection in a cracked windowpane and couldn’t help but note the difference between us. Enid’s optimism radiated like a halo, Wednesday’s presence was a storm cloud of calculated indifference, and me? I was fire—dangerous, hot, and burning too brightly in all the wrong places.

“You know,” Enid said, spinning on her heel to face me, “I bet you’d look killer in one of those leather jackets they sell at the carnival. Add some chains, maybe a dark rose, and bam!” She gestured with her hands as if sketching the outfit in the air. “You’d make half the school faint.”

I chuckled, the sound low and throaty. “You think so?”

“Please.” She rolled her eyes playfully, her gaze flitting over my figure. “I know so. Trust me. You have the look.”

She wasn’t wrong. I’d always known my body held an edge over others, though I wielded it sparingly. My movements, whether deliberate or casual, were often accompanied by lingering glances or stammered words. Wednesday might claim indifference, but I’d seen her eyes travel across my silhouette when she thought I wasn’t watching—a barely perceptible flicker of interest she’d never acknowledge. I took a moment, stretching languidly, making sure my form spoke volumes in that fleeting gesture. Behind me, there was silence. I smirked.

“So, what do you think of the carnival?” I asked, turning slightly to catch Wednesday’s reaction.

She arched a single eyebrow, her voice cool and flat. “If you’re asking whether I find frivolous celebrations amusing, the answer is no.”

Enid nudged me with her elbow, eyes sparkling with conspiratorial glee. “Don’t listen to her. Wednesday just likes to pretend she hates fun. Deep down, she’s probably planning which rides to go on first.”

Wednesday’s jaw tightened, a muscle feathering beneath her pale skin. “The last time I attended a carnival, it ended with a burning Ferris wheel and at least three casualties.”

“Spoken like a true thrill-seeker,” I teased, stepping closer. “Why am I not surprised?”

For a brief moment, her dark eyes met mine, flickering with an intensity that made the air grow thick. She took a small, deliberate step back, as if to regain some semblance of control over whatever had just passed between us. I enjoyed the challenge far too much to let it go.

“Come on,” Enid chirped, dragging us toward the room we shared. “We need to pick outfits! And yes, Wednesday, you’re coming too. I already got us matching wristbands!”

Inside the dorm, Enid’s whirlwind energy took over. She flitted around, pulling clothes from drawers, and chatting about the carnival’s attractions—the haunted house, a shooting gallery, some wild fire-breathers rumored to perform. Meanwhile, Wednesday settled into her usual corner, methodically preparing for whatever tasks her peculiar routine demanded. I moved with a certain feline grace, feeling their eyes on me. I could almost hear Enid’s excited thoughts and Wednesday’s more guarded curiosity.

“Y/n,” Enid called, tugging a black leather jacket from her side of the wardrobe and tossing it my way. “Try this. It’ll suit you.”

I caught it mid-air, feeling its weight against my hands. As I shrugged it on, the material hugged my form perfectly, accentuating curves and lending a dangerous edge. Enid clapped in approval; even Wednesday’s gaze lingered for a second longer than usual. My lips curled upward.

“How do I look?” I asked, spreading my arms slightly. The question was meant for both of them, but my eyes found Wednesday.

She tilted her head, lips parting as if she were about to offer a cutting remark. Instead, she hesitated. “Acceptable,” she said finally, her voice devoid of emotion.

Enid laughed. “Acceptable? Please. You look like you just stepped out of a gothic romance novel.”

“Perhaps a dark tragedy,” Wednesday corrected, her voice low. “A fitting choice for her, don’t you think?”

“Tragedy, romance, it’s all the same,” I replied, stepping closer to where she sat. “And you, Wednesday? Will you blend in with the crowd or haunt the carnival like one of its ghost stories?”

She stared at me, unblinking. “I don’t blend. Ever.”

“Good,” I murmured, leaning back against my bedframe. “Neither do I.”

*Later that Evening*

The grounds were transformed, strung with twinkling lights and bustling with life. Music thrummed from hidden speakers, blending with the laughter and screams of students on various rides. Enid dragged me past vendors selling everything from candied skulls to twisted metal trinkets. Her excitement was infectious. But all the while, my attention remained divided. Wednesday walked a few paces ahead, her dark aura unbroken by the revelry. I wondered what she thought of all this—a chaotic mix of joy and hidden danger.

“Y/n!” Enid’s voice cut through my thoughts. “This way! There’s a mirror maze! You’ll love it!”

I let her pull me along, glancing over my shoulder just in time to catch Wednesday watching me. I gave her a playful wink before disappearing into the maze's gleaming hall of glass.

The air within the mirror maze was different—cooler, more distant from the vibrant sounds of the carnival outside. The walls stretched around me in reflective splendor, distorting every angle of my form. My image twisted and elongated as I walked past each mirrored surface, creating endless copies of myself. A faint smirk tugged at my lips; there was something poetic about the illusion of infinite versions of me, each gaze equally challenging the world.

Enid had dashed ahead, her laughter echoing faintly through the labyrinth. I let her voice guide me for a few moments before deliberately slowing my pace, the thrill of isolation too enticing to resist. My senses sharpened, honing in on every small noise. The flicker of carnival lights outside cast shadows that danced on the glass, creating shifting patterns that felt almost alive.

I took a step forward, and there she was—Wednesday, standing perfectly still amidst the sea of reflections. Her dark hair framed her pale face like ink spilled across porcelain. For a brief moment, I thought it was another trick of the mirrors. Then she moved, her gaze cutting through the maze to find mine.

"Lost already?" I called out, my voice bouncing through the mirrored walls.

"Hardly," she replied, her tone sharp. She moved closer, her steps silent against the polished floor. Each reflection of her was as precise and menacing as the real thing.

As she neared, I leaned casually against one of the mirrored panels, my body language deliberately relaxed. "And here I thought you avoided carnival nonsense."

Wednesday stopped a mere breath away, her eyes narrowing. "I am simply observing how quickly people lose themselves in meaningless distractions."

I tilted my head, tracing her silhouette with my eyes. "Is that what you think this is? A distraction?"

She didn’t answer immediately, instead taking a measured step closer. We were surrounded by endless versions of ourselves, each silent and expectant. “You tell me, Y/n. Why are you here? Is this another stage for you to perform your games?”

Her words hung between us, a challenge I couldn't resist. I closed the distance, letting our reflections align behind us in perfect symmetry. “If it is a game,” I whispered, “then you’re playing too. Deny it all you want, Wednesday. You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t.”

For a second, her gaze softened. Something unspoken lingered there, in the depths of her stormy eyes—something raw, uncertain. But it vanished just as quickly, replaced by the iron control she wielded like a shield. She stepped back, the tension snapping like a taut string.

“You give yourself too much credit,” she said, voice cold again. “This is merely a test of your predictability.”

I chuckled softly, the sound echoing in every direction. “Predictability? Oh, Wednesday, you haven’t even begun to know me.”

She turned, a fluid movement that sent her raven hair cascading down her back. “Then stop wasting my time.” Her footsteps were precise, deliberate. I watched as she walked deeper into the maze, becoming a shifting ghost of mirrors and reflections.

Wednesday’s POV

As I moved through the maze, the glass surfaces reflected Y/n’s form—always watching, always following, even if she stood still. It was irritating how her presence lingered, carving out space in my mind where none should exist. She was a paradox; a being I wanted to avoid, yet always found myself confronting.

She’d gotten too close. Not physically—there was always some distance I could claim. But with words, looks, her damnable confidence. It gnawed at me that my composure had faltered, even if briefly. The carnival’s noise and chaos outside seemed to amplify what I refused to acknowledge.

Focus. The word repeated itself in my mind like a mantra. I turned a corner, scanning the mirrored path ahead. This maze, this ridiculous charade, was a distraction. I needed control, not confusion. Yet every step brought her voice to mind, every reflection a reminder of the tension neither of us would name.

Footsteps approached. I stiffened, ready to parry another round of words. But it wasn’t Y/n who appeared—it was Enid, her bright smile glowing under the carnival lights that crept in through slits and cracks. “Found you!”

She grinned, unaware of the storm raging in my mind. I nodded and allowed her to take my hand, leading me away from the maze’s grip. Before stepping fully into the open air, I glanced back one last time. In the distance, one reflection of Y/n lingered, a silent promise of more games yet to come.

[improbable-outset]

📄 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐦

Kenji Sato x Fem!Reader

𝐀𝐎𝟑 | 𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 | 𝐔𝐥𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.7k

𝐓𝐖 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐖: Coach’s daughter AU, Fluff, lots of shameless flirting, teasing, secret relationship

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Over coffee and conversation, Ken finds solace in a café, far from the chaos of the baseball stadium.

Ken had never felt his heart gallop this intensely before. Not even during his rise to stardom with the Dodgers back in LA could compare to the thrill and anticipation coursing through him right now.

This was more personal— unpredictable in a way that no game or spotlight could prepare him for. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t chasing a title.

It was a moment with someone special that made everything else feel secondary.

Tucked away in a quiet street of Tokyo’s lesser known district, the glow of the neon signs reflected off slick pavements as he watched you navigate the path, weaving between parked bikes and stray vending machines.

The faint hum of the distant train was the only sound that filled the night’s silence.

“Ken!” your voice rang through the empty streets, bright and familiar. As you drew closer, Ken couldn’t help but notice how the muted lights reflected in your glossy eyes, giving them an otherworldly sparkle.

He didn’t say anything until you were close enough for you to hear him without yelling.

“You made it…” His lips curled into a smile, meeting your gaze with a tender look. “Did you get enough rest? You look a bit tired.”

“Barely,” you confessed, a playful tilt painted on your lips. “I’ve been counting down the minutes until I can see you again.”

Ken was used to fans clamoring for a moment of his time, expressing their excitement to see him. But something about the eagerness in your voice and the slight bounce in your step sent a flutter through him.

He glanced around, checking that the streets were still empty before reaching out to cradle your cheek.

“You’re so clingy.” he teased, still holding his grin.

“I would’ve kissed you right now if we weren’t in public.” you shot back with a small smirk.

Ken leaned closer until his face was eye level to yours, his voice dropped to a heated whisper

“I wouldn’t complain if you did.”

The impulse to close the distance simmered under his skin, but the risk of being seen was enough to keep him rooted.

“But I also don’t want an angry mob of your dad’s supporters coming after me after catching us in a compromising position.”

Your smile faltered, replaced by a shadow of worry. “Right…my dad. I don’t want anybody from the press finding out either.”

“Yeah, the press…” Ken’s expression hardened, his tone turning bitter.

The media always lurked, threatening to expose what little happiness he could claim. He wished he didn’t have to sneak around like this.

He envied those who could show affection openly, like some of his teammates who left games with their families in tow. The normalcy forever felt out of reach for Ken.

“Sometimes, I wonder what it would be like…” he murmured, eyes drifting past the dim glow of the distant lights. “If we dated openly, without worrying about your father, or the fans, or the media.”

Ken rarely admitted these things, but seeing how you aligned with his unspoken thoughts made it easier to voice his fragile feelings— especially about your relationship.

“What could the fans do anyway? It’s not like they could control your life.”

“You’d be surprised,” Ken said with a hint of edge. “There are some intense fans out there that take their idols' personal lives way too seriously.”

Ken didn’t want to think too deeply about a situation blowing out of proportion. If rumours began, he knew all too well how quickly fans would start prying on your life, looking for any reason to judge.

Even the slightest flaw could unleash a tornado of online harassment. He didn’t want to bring that sort of trouble into your life.

His jaws clenched, a grimace flashing across his features before he shook the thought away.

“I’m more worried about dad. If he ever found out about us…I can’t even imagine how he’d react. Especially after that latest press conference. He came home moping,” you said, the last words trailed into a tired groan.

“I know, I could’ve handled it better.” Ken chuckled, before it was shadowed by guilt as he remembered his altercation with Coach Shimura. “I hate when the press digs for gossip.”

A low rumble of an approaching car snapped him out of his thoughts. Its headlights illuminated the empty street, casting fleeting shadows over the both of you, before disappearing down the narrow road.

You take a hold of Ken’s hand and gently tug him forward. “Come on, let’s head inside.”

You slip into a small, dimly lit cafe— a hidden gem that seemed to be empty from the outside view. It’s secluded places like this that makes your relationship feel safe, untouched by the eyes of the world.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries enveloped him, a silent call of the rare moment of peace you shared.

The cafe itself was modest in size, with wooden chairs and tables neatly arranged beneath the dim ambiance lighting.

There were a few patrons scattered here and there— a couple sharing a quiet intimate conversation near the window at the high table, and a few students hunched over textbooks.

Sparse decorations adorned the walls: faded vintage poster advertising sodas and sweet treats with its vibrant colours faded over time.

At the centre of each table sat a miniature cherry blossom tree, the soft pink petals contrasted against the dark wood.

Together, you crossed the cafe's interior, where a lone worker was wiping down the countertops. The glass display case in front of you showcased an array of cakes and pastries, though the selection was limited at this hour.

“You gonna order anything?” you asked, eyes scanning over the hanging menu above the counter.

“Yeah…a latte and maybe a cake, too,” Ken paused, gaze flickering over the cake display before shifting back to you. “You want anything?”

“I’ll probably get a bowl of anmitsu,” you mused, turning to meet his eyes. “What kind of cake will you be getting?”

Ken hums in thought for a moment, leaning in closer to the display. Rows of desserts were neatly arranged.

Fluffy cake rolls on the tile shelf with their swirls of cream peaking our— flavours ranged from strawberry to matcha. Slices of chiffon cakes in pastal colours on the middle shelf. And finally, tiny containers of pudding at the bottom.

“Not sure yet,” he murmured, his mind wandering over the cake display. His smile took a slight wicked edge as he added. “Maybe a cake I can feed you a bite of…”

The image of him holding out a spoonful to you flashed through his mind, followed by your lips closing around it. His imagination reeled, and he caught himself chewing his lower lip, a faint flush creeping up his neck.

Just as his thoughts threaten to wander further, your voice pulls him back to the present.

“Their chiffon cakes are always good.” you said, gesturing towards the pastel cakes.

“Yeah?” Ken followed your gaze to the neatly placed cakes. “But they’re crumbly. I’ll get cake all over your face.”

“It’ll be worth it though.” you teased.

Ken chuckled, glancing at the display again and taking another moment to look at the options again. His eyes shifted to the pastries with their delicious golden crust glistening under the light.

“Maybe I should get something messy, then,” he leaned in close to your ear, his voice dropping to a whisper again. “Like…one of those cream puffs with the sweet, sticky filling. I could lick it off your lips.”

Your eyes widened, and you let out an exaggerated gasp, swatting his chest. “Shhh! You can’t say that out here.”

“Why not?” he grinned, voice lacing with his smugness. “No one’s paying attention to us.”

Despite your playful scolding, Ken’s chest swelled with satisfaction and his ego soared.

He was aware that he shouldn’t push things too far, especially in public, but seeing how flustered you were and your stunned expression was too irresistible not to enjoy.

“Still…what if someone was eavesdropping on us.” you said, a hint of caution in your voice as your eyes darted briefly towards the other patrons.

“Then they’ll just hear me flirting. Harmless isn’t it? Doesn’t matter if they know how badly I want to taste the cream puff from your lips.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“What? I can’t tell my girlfriend how badly I want to kiss her?”

“Hmph, just order already.” You crossed your arms with mock indignation.

“Alright I’ll order for us, you go and find us a seat.”

His eyes followed your form as you weaved through the tables, your movement unhurried but purposeful. You found a table in the corner of the cafe that offered both privacy and a clear line of sight to the entrance.

Ken couldn’t help but hold his gaze at you with the cafe’s lighting cast a warm glow over your features.

Dragging his focus back to the task at hand, Ken stepped up to the counter and placed the order— a latte and a slice of cake for himself and a bowl of anmitsu for you.

Ken watched as steam erupted with a high-pitch hiss from the milk frother, the aromatic scent of the coffee mixed with the faint sweetness from the pastries.

The barista poured the milk into the latte cup with grace and precision, creating a delicate foam on top. Besides her, another worker arranged your anmitsu, layering the sweet toppings before placing it alongside with a spoon.

When the tray was finally ready, Ken paid and carefully carried it across the room. The clinking sound of ceramic cups and murmurs of the patrons accompanied his steps.

Setting the tray down on the table with a small smile on his lips, he slid into the seat across from you, feeling the soft cushioned chair beneath him.

Your eyes swept over the content of the tray before landing on the cream puff besides the latte. Your brow arched in disbelief. “Oh my God, you actually got it.”

“I did. Why? Did you think I wouldn’t? You thought I was bluffing?”

“Well, yeah. You’re always bluffing.”

The corner of his lips curled into a smirk at your surprise. Ken pushed your amnitsu closer to you before claiming his own plate. A faint whiff of the dessert’s sweet and rich scent rose to his nose, stirring his anticipation.

Picking up the fork, he scooped a bit of the cream cake and popped it in his mouth. He deliberately closed his eyes and let out an exaggerated, drawn-out moan of pleasure at the taste.

Even with his eyes shut, he could feel your gaze burning into him. He even took it a step further and started licking the cream off his lips.

When he opened his eyes, he found you pulling a face and he couldn’t help but give you a cheeky grin. “It’s delicious, by the way…”

“Hmm, it does look good.”

“Come on…you’ve been staring at it long enough. Have a bite.”

Ken took another spoon full of the dessert before holding it out to you. The moment you leaned in to reach for the spoon, he felt his heart spike and his senses on high alert— taking in every single detail of your action.

His eyes never left your mouth as they parted and closed delicately around the fork. He felt the fork grow lighter as you took the bite.

His focus stayed on your tongue flicking across your upper lip to catch the traces of cream and powdered sugar.

Witnessing it happen in real time was far more tantalising than his imagination— the sight was intoxicating.

He swallowed thickly, forcibly pushing the heat stirring in his chest.

A heat pooled in his gut, seeing you chew on the cake thoughtfully, completely oblivious to the effect you were having on him.

Ken inhaled sharply, trying to ground himself as he reached for a napkin. His hands trembled more than usual as he leaned forward and dapped the corner of your mouth to wipe away the cream you’d missed.

But instead of pulling back after, his thumb lingered, brushing over your lower lip— the same lips he had kissed feverishly in the past. The contact was light and featherlight but enough to make his stomach flip.

You froze under his touch, meeting his gaze. Your lips parted slightly to speak.

“Light and fluffy…”

“Mhm…” Ken hummed, completely distracted. Though he wasn’t sure if he was thinking about the cream puff you just had or the softness of your lips.

“Do you wanna try mine?”

Ken blinked rapidly, snapping out of his trance. Reluctantly, he pulled his hand away from your lips, the warmth of your skin fading too quickly.

But his attention turned to your bowl of anmitsu, taking in the vibrant layers of fruit, glossy jelly cubes, and the soft mochi balls.

“Sure…looks delicious.”

Taking the spoon you offered, scooped a piece of mochi and fruit from the bowl.

The fruits were cool and refreshing in his mouth, and blended with the mochi which gave a pleasantly chewy texture.

He handed the spoon back to you, still chewing on the mochi. You pushed the fruit and the mochi around in the bowl with the spoon meticulously.

“They put a lot of mochi in this.” you commented.

“Yeah, I’m not surprised.”

You reached for the brown sugar syrup that came with your anmitsu and poured it over the bowl. “Try it now.”

Ken scooped another bite, now coated in the syrup. The sugary bursts mixed with the fruits tang, and he let out a low hum of approval at the sweetness. “Hm…it does taste better.”

“Too sweet?”

“It’s already sweet enough, though I think you’re sweeter.”

“Corny.” you said, dragging out the word to emphasise your disapproval, though the faint smile on your lips betrayed you.

Ken chuckled at your reaction, he knew you were only disguising the effect his words were having on you.

He propped his elbow on the table, leaning his chin against his palm with his eyes drinking in the sight of you.

“It’s only corny because you get flustered every time. Did you see your face earlier? When I was talking about the cream puffs?”

You only rolled your eyes at his words, a grin forming on your lips now. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“So, you’re only putting up with me because I’m cute?”

“And maybe because you’re a star player and super rich and whatever.” you replied, twirling the spoon through the anmitsu and waving your hands dismissively.

Ken tilts his head, the back and forth banter bringing a warmth in his chest. Being with you like this— relaxed and unguarded— was a relief in ways he rarely allowed himself to think about.

Having conversations like this with you felt refreshing knowing he would tease and you’ll do it right back.

He tapped his finger against his chin in a mock pensiveness before responding back. “Right, so you’re telling me it's my money and status you’re after, not my dazzling personality or good looks?”

“Oh, that too, I guess.”

“Is that how it’s gonna be, princess? Pretending you don’t secretly like me for more than my money or looks.”

“And what if I said yes?”

“Well,” he said in mock contemplation. “I’d have to work extra hard to win you over. Though I’d say that I'm pretty confident I have a head start.”

“I think you might need to focus on getting on dad’s good side first.”

Something struck inside him at your words— like a whiplash. The mention of your father always hit differently, a reminder of the uneasy dynamic that lingered between them. Ken let out a short sigh, his chest tightening.

It was still a sore spot for him that Shimura initially disapproved of him and his less-than-stellar past behind— though it wasn’t unexpected.

Despite everything Ken had accomplished back in LA— leaving his troubles behind and earning his respect in the field— it seemed his reputation preceded him.

Shimura, along with his teammates, had always treated him like the brash American kid trying to catch up, even though he came back to Japan to prove him among his own people.

With you, however, it was the opposite. You didn’t see him as an outsider or just another player in your dads team. You made him feel like he belonged.

That contrast made moments like these jarring, as if he was living two different lives— one as your boyfriend, and the other as a player constantly trying to win over your father.

Ken’s tone shifted quickly to be more serious, exposing his vulnerability in his words.

“Yeah…I’m trying, princess. It’s just, I don’t want to screw things up and risk not being able to see you again like this.”

Ken took a sip from his latte, the beverage now lukewarm against his tongue, but his mind was elsewhere and far from the cozy warmth of the cafe.

He knew he shouldn’t be dwelling on the ‘what-ifs,’ not when he was on a date with you. But as he sat there, he couldn’t ignore the nagging thoughts that pulled him under. How different would his life be if things had turned out another way?

What if his mother had never taken him to LA? If he’d stayed in Japan, would Shimura still look at him with the faint edge of distrust?

Would he see him different— one who wasn’t marked by a childhood spent feeling like an outcast in a foreign country?

Ken’s jaws clenched. He had spent most of his life in America, trying to fit into a culture that didn’t quite know what to do with him. The bullying had been relentless, the teasing cutting deep in ways he hadn’t fully healed from, leaving the scar of isolation.

Friendships were distant at best. Romantic relationships were practically nonexistent. For a long time, he felt like no one truly saw him.

Even the rise to stardom with the Dodgers hadn’t changed that much. Sure, people admired him, celebrated with him— but it still felt hollow and fragile.

None of it felt real, not like this. Not like you.

He glanced at you across the table, your head down as you inspected your dessert in front of you. If he’d never returned to Japan, he wouldn’t be sitting here right now, sharing this quiet, intimate moment with the only person who truly sees him.

Still, a bitter reminder lingered in the back of his mind. Would he have risen to stardom at all if he hadn’t gone to LA? Despite how brutal it was, the isolation and struggles had shaped him— it made him resilient-driven.

Without those years of grit and loneliness , would he have had the means to lead the Giants to victory? Would he have been ready to take his father’s Ultraman duties when the time came?

Ken sighed again, finishing off the last bite of his cream puff before taking another sip of his latte. It really was strange, the way life worked.

The very things that had made him feel out of place— his complicated family history, his American upbringing, the expectation of following his father’s footsteps— had somehow led him here, with you.

However, the weight of those ‘what-ifs’ still pressed onto his chest. His life with you— a fragile happiness— was precarious. He couldn’t shake the fear that one wrong move could send it all crashing down.

Being caught in the act by your father. It made his throat constrict with anxiety. He already knew that Shimura didn’t trust him. What if that made him believe that he wasn’t good enough for you? That he couldn’t take care of you the way you deserve?

He took another sip from his latte, though it did little to sooth the knot in his chest.

“You know,” you began, not looking up from your bowl as you stirred the syrup into the anmitsu, “being with you makes it easier to forget about everything else.” you said, not looking up from your bowl as you spoke.

Your words caught him off guard, but the tension in his shoulders started to melt. His stunned expression softened, replaced by something gentler.

“Yeah…that’s part of why I like you so much. You make me forget about everything.” His cheeks flushed slightly how openly heartfelt he was now as the words left his mouth, but he didn’t shy away from their weight. “It’s like…you make me want to be a better man.”

He reached out and let his fingers skim across the back of your hand— a subtle touch that carried all his unspoken emotions that he struggled to articulate.

You paused, looking up at him. “I don’t think I can imagine your struggles…especially considering your money and fame overshadow all of that.”

“Everyone thinks that it's easy.” Ken’s lips quivered into a humourless smile. “Being a player admired by thousands. I guess some parts of it are great. But there’s still a lot of stress and pressure.”

He glanced down at the flakes of his cream puff on the empty plate with his thoughts flickering like the steam rising from his latte.

Expectation pulled at him from every corner of Ken’s life— like a massive tree, sprawling yet burdened.

The roots that ran deep were from his fathers influence. They were planted firmly in the soil of his childhood and enchtranched his upbringing and identity.

The roots were unshakable, just like his fathers legacy of being Ultraman— something he was expected to fulfill.

No matter how far he had gone, across the Pacific to LA, he’d never truly escape those roots. Even now they wound tighter around him, tethered to the ground he was expected to nurture.

Then there was the bark— the protective layer. That was Coach Shimura and his teammates. It shielded him from the eternal storms, but it wasn’t invincible. It still demanded so much from the tree itself.

Shimura’s expectations weren’t harsh, but they were heavy and carried their own weight. The bark was strong and steady, but sometimes, it felt like it was tightening. As if holding the tree too firmly in place.

But it was the branch of the tree that weighed him down the most— the fans and the public image. They reached far and wide, growing outwardly. Branches were supposed to flourish.

But how were they expected to grow if you don’t cater to its needs. That’s what it felt like for Ken.

One wrong move; one bad game, and they could snap off. Every game felt like a performance of those branches, trying to keep those intact, making sure they don’t fall under pressure.

But no matter how strong they appeared, Ken knew how easily they could break.

And then there were the leaves, fragile and fleeting— the opinion of the critics, the headlines of papers, the ever-shifting opinions on social media.

Leaves changed with the seasons. One day could be lush and green, full of praises and admiration. The next, they withered and fell, leaving the tree bare and exposed. Their praises were temporary and their critics were choppy.

Though the leaves were less permanent, they still needed care and their loss could hurt the tree entirely. However, Ken couldn’t stop the seasons from changing or the wind from blowing.

Ken swallowed thickly, his eyes glued to the table as his train of thoughts spiraled further. Being that tree sometimes felt like he was stretching thin, trying to meet the demands of every root, branch and leaf.

And then there was you.

You weren’t a part of that endless tree. Not another branch to hold up, nor another leaf to nourish. At least, not yet. But the fear gnawed at him, dark and persistent, whispering at the edges of his mind.

What if you have expectations too?

You hadn’t said much or demanded anything, but it was only natural, wasn’t it? Relationships are always built on unspoken agreements of needs, hopes, and desires.

What kind of boyfriend did you want him to be? What were you looking for in him? Would he ever be enough?

It wasn’t that he doubted your feelings for him. It was the pressure he felt to be the person that you deserved.

To always be charming, supportive, attentive. To make time for you despite his demanding career.

For so much of his life, he had been judged by the outside world— his performance, his persona, his wins, and his losses. The thought of being seen by you that way made his throat tighten.

What if one day, you grew tired of him or wasn’t getting what you wanted from him and left? The thought alone of the empty space you would leave behind broke his heart and made his mouth dry.

It was worse than losing a game, worse than headlines calling him a failure.

Even with the lighthearted conversation and teasing you just shared earlier, his doubts were almost impossible to shrug off.

His mind were a battlefield of his insecurities and worries, but the warmth of your hands that pulled him out of his dark thoughts startled him.

You brought his hand and gently kissed over his knuckles. “Even if things do turn out bad for you, I’ll still think you’re incredible.”

The affectionate gesture unravelled him, nearly spinning him off his axis from being flustered— his mind momentarily going blank.

It wasn’t just the kiss— it was the conviction in your voice. The quiet, unwavering way you said it.

He let out a quiet sigh, his eyes half-lidded as he leaned a little closer to you. The warmth of your kiss still lingered on his hand.

“You always know how to make me feel better.” he murmured, his voice carrying a sincerity he rarely let show.

“You’ll still have all of me, even if you mess up. And I know you’ll do the same.” You brow arched as you added, “Right?”

Ken tilted his head, an amused smirk played on his lips at your remark at the end. The tension in his chest was replaced by fond amusement.

“Of course I will. You think I’d trade you in for someone else?” his voice lowered, his eyes holding yours with an intensity that made his next words feel like a vow. “I'm not letting you go princess…not for anything.”

At that moment, the weight of the world seemed distant, as if the noise of expectations and pressure had diluted to a low hum.

He was so focused on looking at you, Ken didn’t notice you sneaking your hands across the table to reach for his coffee mug until you announced it.

“I’m taking a sip from your coffee.” you said, already snatching the cup.

Ken blinked, catching up to the present. “Hey…that’s mine.”

“I don’t have anything to wash down the mochi.”

“Hmm, can’t say no to that.”

Your face scrunched slightly in distaste after you took a sip. “You don’t put sugar in coffee?”

Ken shook his head and chuckled at the face you made. “No…I like the bitterness of the coffee. It’s more enjoyable that way.”

“I suppose the cream puff makes up for the sweetness.”

“No cream puffs for you any time soon if you keep stealing my drinks.”

“I don’t want anymore anyways,” you huffed in feigned offends. “Too bitter.”

“Awh what’s wrong? Can’t handle the taste of something that’s not over-sugared.”

“It’s not that…how do you drink that raw with no sugar?” your nose scrunched in mock indignation.

“I’m just used to it, I like the stronger taste of my coffee.” he glanced down at his coffee mug before looking back at you. “How could you drink something that’s so sweet?”

“It won’t be too sweet. The sugar just cancels out the bitterness.” you said, matter-of-factly.

Ken only rolled his eyes, responding with an exaggerated sweet tone. “Sure, princess. It’s not too sweet…just enough to make it a sugary drink instead of actually having a coffee taste.”

You pushed the mug back to him, waving off his dramatics. It was almost cathartic how the conversation could go from heartfelt and tender to teasing and flirting, like a flip of a switch.

With you, it always felt right, like stepping into the sun after being caught in the rain.

Ken shook his head at your dismissal, lifting the mug to take another sip of the latte. He didn’t mind the bitterness, especially if it meant sharing more moments with you.

Your eyes flickered past him, freezing on something near the cafe entrance.

“Crap.” you muttered.

Ken’s brow furrowed before turning to see where you were looking. Blood rushed in his ear the moment he spotted his teammates walking through the door.

Their presence wasn't loud or disruptive, but rather casual as they made their way towards the counter. The familiar jerseys and laughter sent a jolt of panic through him and a look of slight trepidation crossed his face.

“Crap…” he echoed your words, quickly turning back to you. “I think that’s our queue to leave.”

What were the odds? The cafe was in a quiet area, far from the usual hotspots, and yet here they were. His shoulders stiffened as he scanned the room, trying to gauge if anyone had spotted you.

Ken stood up first, his chair scraped softly against the floor. They weren’t looking in your direction but it was only a matter of time if you both stayed there any longer.

His voice lowered in your ear. “Come on.”

His hands found your wrist, lightly gripping it as he guided you towards the door without being noticed.

“They haven’t seen us, yet.” you said, glancing nervously at the group.

“Let’s not give them the chance.” His voice was barely audible, and his grip on your wrist tightened as you both made it to the door.

The air in the cafe felt heavier with every step. Ken’s pulse quickened and he resisted the urge to look over his shoulder.

The brass of the door handle was cool against Ken’s palm as he pushed it open. The cool breeze brushed against his face, a welcome contrast to the tension that had knotted inside.

The cafe, once a warm refuge that provided comfort, now felt like a minefield— every glance a potential threat.

Ken scanned the area of anybody potentially following you both. The buzz of distant traffic and the rustle leaves were the only signs that greeted you. Once he was satisfied, he let out a loud sigh of relief.

“So, where to now?” you asked, breaking the silence.

“We should probably get off this street and go somewhere else more quiet…and private.”

Ken turned down the corner, his strides confident but unhurried. The two of you emerged into an empty car park bathed in the dim, orange glow of streetlights.

Everything else felt insignificant now, far from the predicament from the cafe or the traffic beyond. Ken led the way toward the far corner, where a sleek bike rested— its polished surface gleaming under the lights.

“Is that your bike?” you gasped, taking in the sigh that was in front of you.

“Yeah, that’s my ride.” The pride was evident in his voice and his expression, seeing the look on your face.

“It’s beautiful.” The genuine awe in your voice sent a ripple through him.

He didn’t say anything, only gave the bike a fond pat before throwing his leg over it and settling into the seat.

“You up for a quick cruise?”

“You sure?”

“Of course. Have you ever been on one?”

“No….” you admitted sheepishly, your eyes darted to the floor out of shyness. He felt a hint of his male ego spike at that, his eyes roaming at your figure.

“Well,” he said, shifting forward on the seat to give you room. “I guess I’ll be your first ride, then. Hop on— I’ll take care of you.”

You hesitated for a moment, your hands brushing against the cool leather of the seat.

“Have you ever had a woman ride behind you before?” you asked. Ken didn’t miss the flicker of doubt in your voice

His hands tightened on the handlebar, looking back at you. It wasn’t the question that threw him off but the way you asked it.

He recognised the insecurity, the way it slipped out almost against your own will. And it hit him harder than expected.

The idea that you might think he was the type to collect fleeting connections and one night stands stung.

“Of course not.” His voice was steady, stripped of its usual tease. “You’re the only one I’d ever want to give a ride to.

You let out a small, nervous laugh at that. “I guess I’ll be your first, too.”

Ken chuckled, patting the seat behind him. “Damn right you will be.”

He wouldn’t admit it, but making you feel secure in this moment felt more important than anything else.

Ken’s joyrides were something sacred— his personal retreat from the noise and chaos. The familiar rumble of the engine had always been his companion, a constant source of solace.

It wasn’t something shared with anyone. Ever.

But now, as you stood next to the leather seat, it struck him how different this felt. Letting you into this part of his life was like cracking open a private door, one he’d never let anybody step into.

The thrill of it sent a flutter through him, both exhilarating and unnerving.

You finally took your seat behind him, and the shift in weight sent a wave of awareness through him. He swallowed hard when it suddenly hit him how close you were behind him.

Then your arms wrapped tightly around his waist, and he felt his nerves spike. The heat of your fingertips grazed his abdomen sent little sparks of electricity through his body.

It wasn’t fear he was feeling but an intensity he wasn’t prepared for.

He let out a shallow breath as he felt your body pressed even closer. The sight of you behind him in the side mirror was enough to draw in a quick breath.

With a flick of the kill switch, the bike roared to life beneath him. The vibration and the sound broke the stillness, carrying you both out of the car park and into the Tokyo streets at an incredible speed.

The neon glow of the city painted streaks of light across the dark streets, and the hum of the traffic blurred in the background.

It was just you and him with the quiet rhythm of your trust that kept him grounded.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: @despacito-uwu16 @roserfz27

[zvezda-writer]

Loner!Alpha!Konig x Omega!Reader

Masterlist - Next

(I'm sorry for any mistakes or incoherencies, English is not my first language and I'm not a professional writer. This is just for fun!!!)

Part one

Thinking about LonerAlpha!König who never thought about having an omega until he found reader.

It’s not that he didn’t want to, it just never felt like a necessity to him. His final plan was to retire from the military and live in the woods with a dog and a fishpond, all by himself.

He enjoyed solitude, his social anxiety turning every interaction with other people into a living nightmare, and his lack of social fillter making him sound harsher than he intended.

Yet, you caught his eye.

Maybe it was the way you were so bubbly and gentle with every person that crossed your path or the way you always had a smile on your face. Maybe it was your clumsiness and how your mind seemed to always be far away from your body, like you lived with your head on the clouds. The sound of your voice. Your laughter. The sparkles in your eyes. The way your hip swayed deliciously when you walked around the bar you worked at as a bartender. The way you smelled.

It started simple, his eyes meeting you for the first time and falling right to your heavy breast and full curves, he's just a man after all, but then he saw it. Your smile. The way your eyes closed under your round cheeks as your lips curved into the most breathtaking way he had ever seen, lighting the entire bar and his dull, concreted soul.

He tried to ignore it at first, paying for his drink without lifting his eyes from his wallet, until he caught up your scent.

Devastating, overwhelming and so incredibly sweet it made his pants immediately tighter, his heart rate skyrocketing.

His eyes widened slightly as he lifted his gaze to you, only to see you smiling at him so warmly he could feel the heat on his cheeks under his mask. Yet, he didn't mutter a word, only starying at you for long seconds, inhaling deeply in the mix of mint, lily and caramel that surrounded you, drinking in you shamelessly as he slowly placed $50 at the counter. His drink was $8.

Without a single word, he left hearing your goodbye as he walked out the door, the way back to base torturing him with each step with how hard he was.

As he made it to his room, he forced his body under the cold water of the shower, closing his eyes as he tried to cool down his burning skin, despite the freezing temperatures outside, but it was all in vain. His balls felt painfully heavy.

He exhaled, guiding his hands down to his shaft, conjuring the images of your soft body and bright smile as he stroked his length relentlessly, grunting while imagining it was you there, your scent overwhelming the bathroom and your lips around his aching cock, taking all of him, your doll like eyes filled with tears while he fucks your throat.

He came hard, shuddering and panting as the relief hit him, his heart hammering on his chest and the water doing too little to help him cool down.

He was damned, and he knew it. The moment he laid eyes on you, something possessive snapped inside him. Something primal. And he knew he had to have you.

[the-last-thread-of-my-sanity]

Little mini-Aruani fic that’s been *dancing* around in my brain

****

Armin rolls his shoulders as he shucks off his coat, the sound of his keys plinking in the bottom of the porcelain dish reminding him that he’s home.

There’s a chill in the air just behind the glass of the front door, but he can smell the lit fire from the den and somewhere in the house he hears a record being played.

Something orchestral and grand- different from the simple village folk music he grew up with in Paradis.

He smiles, peeking down the stairs into the lower floor of their brownstone style house. They had left it open, unfurnished- nothing but the waxed reclaimed wood floors and some sheer curtains on the window.

“Let’s discover what it can be,” he had said to Annie. “We can grow into it.”

After so long in small squalid living quarters, or in communal style barracks- having a house with three floors and a maid’s quarter seemed excessive. Two private bathrooms? A grand showy living area for guests and a private intimate one for the owners? A dining room with a table set for ten? It made him feel too self-important.

He was a soldier- utility made sense to him, not comfort. And certainly not luxury.

So, the empty space on the bottom floor felt right. It felt like an unanswered question. An ellipses at the end of the sentence.

He steps quietly onto the first few stairs beneath the landing, peering through the banisters until he can see Annie.

He stoops to a crouch, lingering.

She’s dancing, he realizes.

A few months ago, he had paid for a ballet instructor to offer her private lessons- as a gift. She was too fit, too flexible, too physically disciplined to be idle- but he wanted her to discover something about herself other than fighting.

She resisted at first, insisting she wasn’t poised or graceful enough. But her instructor, an aging man who smoked thin cigarettes and spoke with a crisp and lilting accent, adored her. He spoke effusively of her ‘lines’ and her core strength.

But Armin had never seen her dance. The instructor came and left while he was at work in the government office down the street- only running into Armin on the sidewalk as they were coming and going.

Now, he watches, his breath slowing and his heart stilling.

She looks as though she’s floating, he thinks. Weightless. Just an ephemeral being gliding across the floor as though she’s skirting on the air.

She pirouettes and leaps and moves her arms along gracefully unseen lines, her eyes closed and head tilted as she gets lost in the music.

Armin swallows- feeling a heavy sensation sinking into his chest. It’s awe, he knows, but also something else.

Gratitude. That she’s alive. That she’s here with him now. Dancing, moving, breathing, sighing… instead of frozen in time and in place.

He’s so grateful that she has this life.

He doesn’t feel the same way about himself. He drags his perceived debt to the world, to his parents, to Mikasa, to Hange, to Erwin.. to Eren.. everywhere he goes.

He could never be as light as Annie looks right now.

But it’s not his job to be, he realizes.

Finally, she stops, and he can see her breaths moving deeply in and out, her ribcage visible in the thin dance clothes. He looks at the arch of her spine as she holds a pose- and then she drops it, shoulders sagging, rolling her neck on her shoulders.

She clears her throat, stretching her arms above her head as she walks over to lift the needle from the record and the music stops.

She turns, and stops short with a little yelp when she sees him on the stairs.

Armin can’t help but laugh.

“You watched me?” She asks, accusing. “I made so many mistakes.”

Armin shakes his head, rising to stand and walk down the stairs. “How would I know? I’m no dancer.”

“Neither am I.” She says, bashful as she looks away from him out the window. The wind is swirling the sycamore leaves from outside along the sidewalk, filling their view of the street with bright yellow shapes catching the late afternoon sun.

“Nonsense.” He says, opening his arms for her to walk into his embrace. She folds into his chest as easy as any other reflex. As easy as blinking or breathing.

He smiles, leaning his cheek on her head as she buries her face into the collar of his shirt, inhaling deeply. Her daily ritual- breathing him in like it was soothing to her lungs.

He understands, he thinks, as he runs her silken hair through his fingers absently. It’s not enough just to see her or hear her alone. He needs to fill his senses with her to reassure himself that she’s truly there.

“So that’s what this bottom floor is now? Your dance studio?” He asks conversationally.

“For now,” she says, tilting her head back to look at him, “until I decide that it’s something else.”

Armin’s lips quirk into a small smile.

“Still want to leave things open-ended, then?” He jokes.

She hums, and he extends his arm up for her twirl underneath it playfully. “I just want to take our time.” She says quietly as she stills.

He nods in understanding, pulling her close again to press a kiss to her lips.

She can be whatever she wants to be. A dancer one day. An artist the next. A musician. A seamstress. A connoisseur of baked pastries…

Just as she was a fighter, first, and then a lover.

Certainly Annie can be anything in the world… as long as she is his.

[doe-eyed-fool]

Fear Of The Known

Lucifer x Fem!Angel!Reader

|Chapter Six|

In a near desperate attempt to forget about everything plaguing Y/n's mind, she took up learning portals from Michael. Which might not have been the best idea, considering he's still learning himself. While he could teleport himself anywhere with ease, creating a portal to another world was something entirely different.

And it took a lot of hard work and patience to perfect it. And Michael, well...He was trying his best.

But Y/n couldn't work up the nerve to ask Galim to teach her. She was always so tense around them, despite Galim being one of the kindest angels in Heaven. Michael just made her feel more at ease.

"I can't believe you've existed since the dawn of creation and yet you haven't learned how to make a portal." Y/n teases, trying to lighten the mood. Michael rolls his eyes. "Give me a break, I told you I'm better at fighting than magic. Trust me, you haven't been around as long as I have. My youth was full of many failed magic attempts."

"Aw, baby Michael." Y/n giggled at the thought of a child size Michael, causing him to blush slightly. "Anyway." Michael clears his throat. "Just repeat after me."

Michael stands straight and holds out his hands. Y/n did the same, she then inhaled and exhaled in a calm pattern. "Good. Now just clear your mind, and focus on where you want to be."

Y/n closed her eyes and tried to clearly picture what she saw last time. A wide open meadow, filled with flowers. The sound of the birds and running water. The warmth of the sun in the bright blue sky.

Nothing happened, so she inhaled deeply and tried to remember more of what she saw, what she heard, what she smelled. Earth truly was a beautiful place. It's nature was beyond all compare, simple and yet so vast and complex.

There was a small swirl of light forming just before Y/n's open palms. Michael's eyes lit up with excitement, but he refrained from speaking as not to throw her off.

Y/n wondered what night was like on earth. She's heard stories of the stars that littered across the dark blue sky. How they shined and sparkled, they along with the moon, casting just enough calming light in the darkness.

Y/n smiled at the thought, the thought of just how many wonderful things the Earth had to offer.

'Lucifer would have loved it.'

The light grew brighter and larger, and the portal finally opened. Michael's once previous excitement, quickly faded as he saw where this portal lead.

"Y/n..."

Y/n opened her eyes, her mouth fell slightly agape in surprise. Just before her, was the portal she had created. The color was the first thing that caught her eye. Then came the warm air, the uncomfortably warm air. Then there was the sounds of chaos ringing loud in her ears. Y/n swore she felt her heart drop as realization set in.

Y/n froze, unable to think clearly or utter a single word. Michael stepped in front of her and quickly closed the portal. The last thing she saw, was a large building atop of a hill. He turned to Y/n, a look of slight panic in his eyes.

"Y/n...What did you just do?" He asked, though it was obvious. He knew it, but he just couldn't believe it.

Y/n had created a portal to Hell.

"I...I don't..." Y/n muttered.

"How did you do that? You've never even been to Hell! How could you have pictured where to open the portal?" Michael asks, more to himself than to her.

Y/n looked down at her hands, they were shaking. He was right. She's never been to Hell, she's most certainly never pictured it with her own eyes. So how could she have...

"My visions." Y/n looks up at him. "I've seen Hell in my visions."

Michael was hit with the sudden realization. That was right. You had been tasked from God to keep up with Charlotte Morningstar's future, of course you've seen Hell.

"Ok." Michael exhales. "That makes sense I guess. But you...You weren't suppose to open a portal there! You suppose to open it on Earth. What happened?"

"I..." Y/n sighed. "I was thinking about Lucifer. Maybe that's why..."

Michael fell silent, so did she. Even after ten thousand years, mentioning Lucifer was still a sore subject for them both. As much as they like to think they've moved on, they never truly will. Or have...

"Well...No more of that." Michael tells her with a sigh. "Here I was worried something might happen to you on Earth. Then you go and open a portal to Hell of all places." He laughs weakly.

Y/n turns away from him. "It won't happen again. I'm sorry."

"It's fine Y/n. But yeah...I think it's best if you don't do that again." Said Michael. "I think that's enough portals for one day..."

Six months had passed, and it was finally time for Charlotte Morningstar's arrival. Y/n had informed Sera of this months in advance. She was still furious with Sera, but she could do nothing but do her duty and warn her of this very day.

Sera had little to say to Y/n, so the two parted with a brief exchange and barely spoke to each other since. Not that Y/n had anything to say to Sera, after learning about the exterminations.

Emily of course noticed, but Y/n simply told her that she and Sera were much too busy to really see each other. It did little to ease Emily's concerns, but thankfully she didn't push for a further explanation.

Y/n knew what would come from this meeting anyhow. Charlotte Morningstar would make a case that sinners could be redeemed. However, try as she may, Heaven would not be convinced. She would have not choice but to return to Hell, where she must prepare for Adam's attack.

During that meeting however, Emily found out about the exterminations. That certainly cleared things up about Y/n and Sera, but now she was left heartbroken and betrayed. She knew it was wrong, but what could she do? Despite being a Seraphim herself, she did not hold as much power as Sera.

Sera tried to put her at ease, insisting she handle things from here. But Emily could not ignore what was going on anymore...

She wasn't the only one who now knew of the exterminations. By now, everyone was aware of what she had been doing in secret. Everyone except for the civilians of Heaven, of course. And in due time, God would know as well.

Y/n was half expecting God to call for her, to see what the results of these exterminations had caused. However, there was nothing. Y/n even tried to reach out for Michael, but even he was unavailable.

It turns out, God and his angels were discussing the extermination along with Charlotte Morningstar's plans for redemption privately.

Y/n couldn't explain it, but she had a sinking feeling in her gut. So much has happened so quickly. And now God was involved. She could always look into the future for some closure.

And yet something held her back from doing so. Her nerves, her anxiety, or, it might have been fear. Fear, not of the unknown, but of what would become known.

A part of her didn't need to see the future to know that the results of this would be catastrophic. Y/n had seen it before, the possibility of Sera's punishment was becoming more set in reality now.

Y/n wanted to be more rational about this. Sera hid something this big from God for so long. Of course she would be punished for it. That is simply the consequence she must face. But Y/n did hate it for her. Sera might have had good intentions, but the way she went about it was wrong.

All of this was starting to become overwhelming. Y/n was unable to sleep because of her racing mind. The one relief she got from this, was that Adam and Lute could no longer threaten her now that everyone knew. But it did little to put her at ease.

Y/n sat up in her bed and stared down at her hands. She was avoiding the future for far too long now. She had to look. Really, she had no choice. One way or another, someone will ask her to see what comes next. And so, she closed her eyes and looked into the future.

This time, she was seeing through her own eyes. And all she could see was red. The same red, the same heat, the same sounds all that came from that portal she made months ago. And as she looked up, breaking the scarlet sky, was the gateway to Heaven opening up and down through came two angels.

A knocking caused Y/n to open her eyes, loosing the vision. She blinked a few times before the knocking was heard again. She got up from her bed, still in a state of confusion as she was making her way to the door.

She was in Hell. Why was she in Hell? What possible reason would there be for her to be down there? And who were the two angels coming down from Heaven?

Y/n reached the door and opened it. Standing before her was Michael, and he looked exhausted.

"Michael? What are you doing here so late?" She asks.

Michael tried to offer a smile as he spoke. "You got a minute to talk?"

Tags-

@bloody-delusion-expert

@simbalioness

@annybah

@alientee

[dairyminki]

Acquiescence || j.wy

PAIRING — jung wooyoung x fem!reader ... GENRE — fluff, angst, strangers to lovers ... WARNING/S — major character death, mentions and descriptions of hospital, pet names, reader has achromatopsia, mild profanities ... WC — 7.7k

AUTHOR'S NOTE — i had this fic idea hiding in my drafts with only the title finished bcos i felt like it wasn't the right time for me to write it just yet, so i let it sit. and just when i thought this story will never see the light, stormy august happened, i got all angsty, and i was able to pour all my emotions on this fic. and now, i'm posting it for sad september, yay! anyway, special thanks to @hotteoki and @jaehunnyy for beta-reading this one ^^

SYNOPSIS — a life painted in shades of black, white, and gray, sparks a certain yearning for something brand new deep inside of you. but what if that 'something brand new' comes in the form of a boy and his camera? will his presence be able to alter the monotonous world you live in into a world where the colors of the rainbow are freely dancing?

*reblogs and feedbacks are highly appreciated! ♡

— ☁️

ac·qui·es·cence

: the reluctant acceptance of something without protest.

achro·​ma·​top·​sia

: a visual defect that is marked by total color blindness in which the colors of the spectrum are seen as tones of white, gray, and black, by poor visual acuity, and by extreme sensitivity to bright light

☁️.... playlist!

To you, it was peaceful.

How the scratchy sound of the pencil's nib against your sketchbook was the only thing you could hear, how the hues of black, gray, and white were the only ones that filled your vision, and how it was only the smell of fresh grass that lingered in the cool morning air.

But at the same time, it was depressing.

How those were the only things that constantly stimulated your senses. Always the same every morning, unless it were to rain.

You don't think any word was fitting enough to describe what you currently feel. Deep inside you, there's a yearning for something brand new. To alter the monotonous life you have in exchange for a life filled with an endless spark of delirium or one where the world before your eyes appears bright-colored.

Sitting on one of the wooden benches found in the hospital's garden inevitably makes your thoughts and emotions fly around. Sometimes, it's the feeling of hope budding inside your chest, but most times it was the heavy weight of despair forming over your head like a gloomy gray cloud.

Gray.

Now that is a shade you know by heart. A shade you've grown to appreciate that if anyone asks you what your favorite color is, gray would be your automatic answer.

Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, pink, and many others, are colors you could only wish and dream to see. When people around you talk about how blue the sky is, or how an evergreen tree looks, it makes you wonder deeply how on earth they look like. Are they as pretty as your favorite color? Or are they something more? Something that'd get you marveling hard and for long.

"Y/N? Y/N~?" You hear the familiar voice calling your name in a sing-song. When you turn your head around, you catch sight of shoe-clad feet before you see the face of your lovely nurse from day one—Nurse Aliah.

"There you are!" She exclaims, walking towards you with a huge smile on her face which you mimic as you close your sketchbook.

"Time's up for me already?" You ask, a bit dejected.

As much as you've grown to treat your hospital room as your home, that doesn't mean you've grown to love staring at the mundane four walls and smelling the overpowering scent of antiseptic and cleaning agents clouding your senses.

"Why? Don't feel like going back yet?" Nurse Aliah asks, making you scoot over so she can sit beside you.

Replying with a mere nod of your head, she sighs, patting you gently on the back. Then, she takes a glance at her wristwatch, saying, "I suppose I could give you half an hour more. I mean no one has to know, right?" She sends you a playful wink.

"That's more than enough, thank you."

"No problem at all, darling. But before I go, can I have a little peek at your sketches?" Nurse Aliah asks, gesturing at the sketchbook on your lap which you immediately hide behind you.

"No!" You laugh. "No peeking until I finish it."

Your answer got her frowning, but she stood nonetheless, muttering a sulky 'fine.'

"The sun's about to reach its peak in a little while, so put your cap on, alright?" She reminds, prompting you to nod your head before she finally leaves the garden.

With Nurse Aliah gone, you grab your cap beside you, wearing it, before you find yourself admiring your surroundings once more, taking in deep breaths as if the earth's air supply was about to run out, and then you're opening your sketchbook and diving back inside the world of art.

Sketching different things brings you peace—if some feel anxious leaving their houses without their phones or watches on, for you it's the same when you leave your mechanical pencil or any of your sketchbooks and drawing pads behind.

Art enables you to cope with all the imperfections you were forced to carry with you ever since you were born to walk the earth with your tiny feet.

You might not be able to see and appreciate colors as much as everyone does, but you do love being able to weave lines, shapes, and patterns from the tip of your pencil.

Click!

Your grip on the pencil loosens when you hear the sound of a camera shutter and someone cursing. Looking to your left, you see a male who looks the same age as you, holding a camera in his hand—his hair is quite long, he has styled fringes framing the sides of his face, and he is smiling sheepishly at you.

"Did you…just take a picture of me?" You asked, squinting your eyes at him and tilting your head to the side. You see him swallow, his Adam's apple bobbing, all the while he lowers his camera.

"Shit, I'm sorry!" He exclaims—his voice, pitchy. Then he proceeds to ramble aloud, "I didn't mean to startle you, I was just taking a look around, trying to find anything pretty to capture, and then I saw you, and I…I'm sorry."

"Didn't anyone tell you it's rude to take someone's photo without asking their permission?" By now you were standing, approaching the male and his camera. When you stick out a hand, he instantly gives his camera to you and you find yourself staring at a picture of yourself on the screen.

What he did was rude, yes, but you can't help but be in awe at the way he was able to capture you looking so immersed in your drawing—your furrowed brows and your tongue darting out of your slightly opened mouth because you're concentrating hard.

"I should be mad but, it's actually a pretty photo," You say, slightly abashed.

The male in front of you chuckles. Then he asks, "So, does that mean I get to keep this pretty picture of you?"

At the mention of the word 'pretty,' you feel your cheeks heat up. Coughing out loud and not meeting him in the eyes, you reply, "Only if you're not some creepy stalker, then I suppose you can."

"I'm not! I actually did it for a school project."

Hearing him say that made your ears perk.

"Oh, really? What's it about?" You can't help but ask, not being able to hold back with your natural curiosity for things.

"Nothing much, really," He starts. "We were just told to visit someplace we hadn't been to before and then capture something that catches our eye. Once we can do that, we will be asked to share about it in class."

After he explains, you find yourself asking him more.

"What else did you take a picture of?"

"You…were the first really." He answers with his free hand rubbing at his nape. As for you, his answer got your cheeks even hotter.

"Oh." You end up saying, not really knowing how to respond further. Luckily, he opens up another topic, and later on you're back sitting on the bench you previously sat on, but with him beside you.

"So you're telling me you've never been to a hospital before?"

"Nu-uh. Never," He answers, fiddling with the buttons of his camera. "Uhm, how about you? Did you…"

You knew what he meant despite him not fully voicing it out. Thank goodness you didn't see that one thing you really hate, in his eyes, though—pity.

"Been here since I was five," You say as you stare up at the sky. The gray-looking sky that always accompanied you whenever you were out here in the garden.

"What are you here for?" You could gather a hint of hesitance in his voice, most probably not wanting to pry considering you've only just met. But he's just like you, curious.

"I'm color-blind," You begin. And just when you were about to tell him more, you heard someone calling you.

"Y/N!"

You turn your head and see Nurse Aliah approaching you. From a distance, you could already see the questioning in her gaze.

"I—ah, unfortunately, have to go now," You say, picking up your sketchbook and standing up.

"Oh."

"Yeah, um, I'm grateful I was able to cross paths with you today," You tell him with all honesty. And you think you see him bite back a smile.

"The way you say it, makes it sound like, us, meeting was something big."

"Well, maybe it is," You grinned at him. "I'm Y/N, by the way." You say, extending a hand for a handshake which he immediately accepts.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N. I'm Wooyoung," He responds before you wave at him goodbye and run towards Nurse Aliah with a smile still lingering on your face and her look of questioning not fading away in the slightest.

"Who was that?" She asks as the both of you start to walk back inside the hospital.

"Hmm, just someone who thinks I'm pretty."

—

The following day, you asked Nurse Aliah if you could go out again. When she asked you why, you simply told her that the fresh air and the calming surroundings got you more motivated to finish sketching, and not because you were kind of hoping for a certain long-haired male to find his way back to the garden, no, not at all.

Well, not that you were going to admit and let her know anyway.

You fell into the same routine as yesterday without any difficulty. By now, the subject you were trying to draw was getting more defined. Just a little more shadings here and-

"Smile!"

Instead of smiling as the chirpy voice told you to do so, you think your caught-off-guard face was what the camera was able to capture.

"You could've warned me!" You exclaim after a few moments of just blinking and nothing but your mind trying to register the sound of the shutter that went off earlier and the laughter of the newcomer.

The very reason why you wanted to escape the stuffy walls of the hospital again.

"I take pride in my candid shots, though." Wooyoung pouts.

"You only started taking pictures yesterday!" You point out.

"Okay, and?"

"Ugh, just let me see the picture," You say, though it sounds more like a demand. A demand that Wooyoung refuses to follow through.

"No, this one is for my eyes only." Wooyoung sticks his tongue out at you and then,, later on has this shit-eating grin on his face.

In the end, you give up trying to get the camera from him. The moment you decide to set your focus back on your drawing, silence envelops you two—not the awkward kind though. It was more like those silence that'll have you sighing in relief, and everything else around you sounding like calming waves.

And amidst the silence was Wooyoung near a flower bush with his camera out. You don't know what colors the flowers are in but you do remember Nurse Aliah telling you they are called Chrysanthemums and that they smell sweet.

"Wooyoung," You say after a minute of just staring at him snapping a couple of photos of the said flower. "What color are those flowers?" You ask.

Without taking his peering eyes off the viewfinder, he answers, "They're purple!"

Purple—you know they're the color of grapes, your favorite fruit. You've wondered since then if purple was anything like how the fruit tasted.

"How about your hair, Woo?"

Woo—that's new, and the way the nickname rolled off your tongue actually felt nice.

"It's black, probably just the way you see it!" He answers, and then you see him finally lowering his camera and smiling to himself while he walks back toward you on the bench.

"Were you able to capture something pretty?" You ask him as soon as he drops his weight on the bench, his shoulder touching yours.

"I did. It's quite a lot. But…" Wooyoung trails off, and then he's looking at you with a cheeky grin. "...they're not as pretty as you though."

At that remark, you feel heat rush towards your face, however, you don't look away from his gaze, just yet. Your thoughts begin to wander again, as you think of what the color of his eyes are and if they're the same as yours, or the color of the shirt he's wearing, and his camera too. You could've asked those questions aloud but you didn't.

Instead, you ask, "If I were a color, what color would I be, Woo?"

Wooyoung briefly seemed to appear as if he was in deep thought, with his head tilting to the side, his eyes roaming all over you, and his lips pursing.

"That's a question I can't answer after just a day of knowing you, Y/N." He answers truthfully. "How about I'll get back to you after a month?" He proposes.

A month could be awfully long for some, and short for others who are patient enough. You're not sure which one of the two are you, although you still nod your head at Wooyoung.

And a month? Sure, you could wait. Time flies fast these days, after all.

—

Days turned to weeks, and by now, you've grown accustomed and comfortable with Wooyoung's presence.

He was just the right amount of loud, funny, and kind, that even your Nurse Aliah has opened up to him already.

"You smile a lot nowadays," Nurse Aliah comments one time while you're resting inside your room and she's replacing your newly emptied bowl of grapes with a fresh set.

"Is it bad?" You ask as you stare at the ceiling, not really thinking of anything—just the little joke Wooyoung told you a day ago repeatedly tickling your head.

You hear the clinking of the fruit bowl for the last time before you hear the rustling of your bed sheet.

"It's not bad per se, but…"

Her unsaid words send the all too familiar sinking feeling creeping its way back into your chest. A feeling you've tried so hard to push to the back of your mind, only for it to resurface once again.

"Don't," You plead in a small voice, eyes closed. When you open them again, you're looking straight at her, hot tears lingering in the corner of your eyes. You tried hard to blink them back.

But when was the last time you let them fall? When was the last time you allowed yourself to feel sadness? When was the last time you willingly set hope free and embraced despair?

"Alright, I…I just want to let you know today will be the last time you'll be able to go out Y/N. Tomorrow, Dr. Lee will be here to check on you."

Not being able to stop the dam from breaking, you just nod your head to whatever Nurse Aliah is saying. You feel her caress your hair before the door to your room closes with a thud.

Tears spilled—rolling down the apples of your cheeks until they're gliding past your lips, enabling you to taste their saltiness. And then you're sitting up, pulling your leg close to your chest with your head resting on the wall as you stare at the window.

You sigh. Feeling all the energy you possess going down the drain.

You suddenly remember all the things the younger you had to suffer through just because you weren't normal just like how everyone was. You remember how you'd run into things and tripped over them because everything seemed dark and dull. You remember how other kids would play outside at the playground while their parents would sit there on the benches and talk about how the sun looked so bright.

You've never directly looked at the sunlight. It hurt your eyes, even until now. Hence, every time you go out, you always wear a cap on your head just to shield your eyes from the light radiated by the sun. Anyone else would've worn sunglasses to deal with that, and you've tried—once. After that, you came to Nurse Aliah, crying, because you felt suffocated while wearing them. And that continued until you were older—any type of glasses having the same effect on you.

Childhood for you was tough. Luckily, Nurse Aliah was there to somehow make it less hard for you to deal with the world and reality. Making you smile, laugh, and enjoy the little things—Nurse Aliah was your only family. She contributed to igniting the spark of hope inside you.

And now, there's Wooyoung—his smile, his raucous laughter, and the way he sweeps his fringes to the side out of habit. Just Wooyoung and the click of his camera, his camera roll that's probably full of your stolen shots now. Just Wooyoung trying to peek at whatever you're drawing while you're so adamant not to show him. Just Wooyoung discreetly picking out a random flower from the bush and putting it behind your ear.

It sends a rush of warmth all over you—something warmer than what you get when you're spending time with Nurse Aliah. No, Wooyoung's was something else.

You place your right hand on your chest, and there it is. The faint sound of your heart beating, increasing, as your mind gets filled more by the said male.

It feels foreign, but it's nice. Really nice.

And with that, you know you're ready to face another day with the open sky and Wooyoung's presence keeping you intact and aground.

—

After all the crying you've done, you felt light and at ease. As you walk out into the hallways and down to the ground floor, you find yourself greeting more people you encounter along the way. You can't help but notice the smile sticking to your lips, and surprisingly, it didn't hurt you with how wide it was.

Your smile only seems to get brighter when you spot Wooyoung's familiar figure outside. He's by the same bench you two sit on with his back facing you.

Giggling, you were eager to reach where he stood.

But then it happens.

Just when you were about to run and shout his name, it happened.

Instead of shouting his name, you find yourself gasping for air, feeling as if your throat was closing in on you. With your heart irregularly beating painfully against your chest you drop to the ground, feeling faint and cold with sweat.

You don't register much about what happened next but swore you heard screams around you and the last-minute turning and running Wooyoung made toward you.

Blurry grayness was the last thing you saw before everything turned black.

—

There were voices around you and the sound of a machine.

Fluttering your eyes open, you recognize you are in your room—lying on a bed with a few tubes connected to your body, and then gently shifting your eyes to the door where the sound came from, you see a familiar back and your Nurse Aliah, talking in low voices. Though, not low enough, seeing as they awoke you.

Nurse Aliah notices your awoken state first, you see her whisper something to Wooyoung before she attends to your side.

"Hey, darling," She began in a soft voice, almost lulling. When her fingers brushed through your hair, you swore sleep was tempting you to go back into its arms once again. But you stopped yourself.

"How are we feeling?" Nurse Aliah asks. You find yourself clearing your dry throat, unable to answer. You give her an okay sign, instead.

Immediately, she gets a glass of water from your bedside table. She gently guides you to a sitting position, before she hands the drink to you.

"I'm glad you're awake, Y/N. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll go call Dr. Lee. Meanwhile, you can go ahead and talk with your lover boy over there. Sounds good?"

You could only roll your eyes at her, shooing her away.

Wooyoung instantly came to your side after the door closed. He pulls out a chair for him to sit on and then just stares at you. You find yourself looking down at the empty glass in your hand, with the silence the male was giving you.

You can't figure out if he's angry, sad, or disappointed. If he only sees you as a weak and undesirable thing he no longer wants anything to do with.

"What's my pretty girl thinking, hmm?" Wooyoung asks, gently taking the glass out of your hold, and replacing it with his hands.

Wooyoung's hands felt warm against your slightly cold ones and you liked it.

"I'm thinking that I'm sorry, I'm sorry for not telling you," You answer truthfully, now finding the courage to reciprocate his gaze on you. But then, a gasp leaves you when you see how puffy his eyes are.

"Have you been crying?" You ask, pulling your hands from him and cupping his face. Your thumbs trace the bags of his eyes while Wooyoung leans into your touch.

"If I did, what's my pretty girl going to do about it?" Wooyoung asks with a small chuckle, in an attempt to lighten up the mood inside the four walls.

"Am I really still pretty to you, Woo?" You asked in a weak voice, tone laced with disbelief.

"Y/N, y'know that's a stupid question, right? Love, you'll forever be pretty in my eyes, and I—y'know yourself I'm good at finding pretty things, right? That's how I found you."

"Woo…"

"If you think that me, seeing you like this will change anything, then you're so wrong for that."

"Woo-"

"Is it shitty of me if I say that I'm in love with you, right now?"

You're caught off guard when Wooyoung starts crying, his tears wetting your fingers. With him breaking down in front of you, you can't help but cry as well, pulling his head to your chest in hopes that your heartbeat was loud enough for him to hear that it was actually screaming his name.

"I don't want you wasting your tears on me, please…" Your voice was croaky after a while, tears having dried on your cheeks, while Wooyoung's sobs still hadn't subsided.

"I don't know about you but I'm not feeling funny enough to laugh right now," He answers with a chuckle and you laugh as well, still cradling his head against you.

If you could, and if you only knew how, you'd lessen the pain he's feeling.

Absorbing all the pain coursing through him until you become numb, you'll do so. And if you could control time you would love to rewind it to the time he took a photo of you without permission.

If you acted coldly towards him and sent him away, would you still find yourselves in this position?

Will Wooyoung still weave his way into your fragile heart and your colorless life?

Will you still find yourself falling in love at the last minute with him?

You don't know.

But you do know you feel the same way as him.

Who knew that that delicate heart of yours was still capable of welcoming a powerful force called love inside?

—

Most of your days were filled with your doctor and nurse checking up on you at every possible chance. The wheelchair has become your friend, and instead of getting out into the garden and finding Wooyoung, the tables turned. Wooyoung, being the one who found his way to your hospital room, started constantly visiting you with a different set of flowers every day to adorn the lonely vase sitting atop your bedside table.

Unlike the other days though, this time, he was kind of late. Even Nurse Aliah didn't get to peek inside after the early morning check-up she did on you today. It was strange, you think.

Starting to feel bored, you decided to take a quick look at your finished drawings and the letters you wrote slipped into one of the pages of your sketchbook

Then, you hear the door to your room opening. Instead of Nurse Aliah, though, Wooyoung's adorable peeking head was the one you saw.

"Woo!" You exclaim, putting a sweet smile on his face as he welcomes himself in.

Immediately, you open your arms for him, and he fits in perfectly when he engulfs you in a soft hug. You feel his lips against your temple, and if you could, you'd choose to stay in this position, just basking in all the warmth he could offer and all the kisses he'd get to spoil you with.

"I have a surprise for you."

"What is it?" You whisper back at him. Then, he's pulling away, a hesitant look on his face.

You looked at him, confused, asking, "Is there something wrong?"

"No, nothing's wrong! It's just that, Nurse Aliah told me you're not really fond of these, but, I was hoping if…" Wooyoung trails off, and then he takes something out of the small bag that he brought with him. "...can you please, wear them for me, just this time?"

In his hand was a case, and when he opened it, you saw a pair of glasses.

Your breath hitches.

"Is this—h-how were you able to—Woo, I-"

Unbeknownst to you, you were panicking, and Wooyoung was doing all his best to calm you off the overwhelming feeling encapsulating you.

When you've calmed down, he proceeds to ask again, "Will you wear them for me, love?" in a much softer voice.

You nod your head, tears brushing your cheeks, while smiling hard and mumbling a few yeses.

"Thank you, my pretty girl," Wooyoung says, showering you with butterfly kisses, prompting giggles out of you.

"Are you ready?" Wooyoung asks before you take the glasses out of its case. Nodding eagerly as a reply, you put them on, unable to control the blinking of your eyes as they adjust.

An immense feeling grows in your chest, your words stuck in your throat when you finally get to look at Wooyoung and see what his gorgeous eyes are colored in. When you asked him what color they were, he told you they were brown, the same as yours.

Minutes later, as soon as Wooyoung sees you're all set, he pulls you up from your bed, helps you wear your shoes, and then guides you every step until you're sitting in your wheelchair.

Turns out it was blue—your wheelchair. And blue is such a pretty color, you think. Though, after seeing the color of Wooyoung's eyes, you think nothing could ever compare with it.

—

It was your first time being able to see the garden with the stars present, twinkling up above.

Wearing the special glasses that Wooyoung has gifted you, you can't help but cry at the overwhelming colors filling your vision.

Wooyoung and Nurse Aliah told you that it won't make you see all the colors the world is painted in, but at least it was no longer just black, white, and gray—the three same colors your world was revolving in.

Another surprise welcomes you hard when you notice the transformation the garden had to go through with all the fairy lights hanging from each tree.

Green—a color you know that dominates the earth. You are so delighted to be able to see such a refreshing and tranquil color. A color you wouldn't mind looking at forever.

"Did you do all of this for me?" You ask Wooyoung in between shivers, that the latter had to stop wheeling you from behind for a minute. He crouches down in front of you, tightening the jacket around you, and sensing that it isn't enough to shield you from the cold nightly breeze, he takes off his own and puts it on you.

"Hmm, though I did ask Nurse Aliah and a few others for help. Do I look like I could pull off this surprise by myself?"

"Of course not." You playfully scoff.

"I know I asked, but I can't help but feel offended."

Laughter filled the rest of the path you took toward the very bright evergreen tree in the far distance. The sound of the crickets and the luminous moonlight accompanied you two as well.

"Is that—are we having a picnic?" You gasped, spotting a blanket lying over the green grass, a basket, and a set of empty plates over it. You think you even see a bottle of your favorite drink peeking out of the basket.

"Yes, we are, pretty." Wooyoung responds, but then something else catches your attention that you almost want to abandon your wheelchair and just say, 'fuck it,' and run.

You realize that not only fairy lights hang from the evergreen tree, but also pictures.

When you get nearer, you feel your heartbeat becoming louder. And when the wheelchair halts—Wooyoung carrying you afterward towards the area he set for you two—you were able to see the pictures much closer.

At first, all you see were the different flowers Wooyoung captured in his camera—they were a myriad of colors; pink, blue, red, and purple.

You found purple to be the loveliest.

"Is that—?" You turn your head to Woooyoung as your finger points to a certain picture of two people.

Wooyoung only nods.

It was a picture of you and your Nurse Aliah. Bright smiles graced your lips. Your arms were around each other and you were wearing your cap which surprisingly is colored purple as well.

Maybe, Nurse Aliah knew that purple was bound to replace gray as your favorite color in the long run, and the color didn't disappoint you at the very least.

"Thank you," You tell Wooyoung as he puts you down on the blanket. Everything looks magical. Like a scene pulled out from a movie, a scene you didn't expect to live out.

And just when you thought Wooyoung's surprise had reached its end, you thought wrong when he handed you a photo album. Well, it looked more identical to a scrapbook, with your name on the cover formed using cutout magazine letters.

When you open it, you see a short letter written on the first page with what seems to be Wooyoung's penmanship. From his penmanship alone, you could identify what his personality is like. And you thought it was endearing.

However, when you flipped to the next page, your eyes widened, breath hitching as your gaze stayed fixed on the very first picture pasted on.

It was that picture Wooyoung took that got you so caught off guard. The one he so adamantly tried to hide from you.

One of the candid photos he took pride in—you with your eyes staring wide at the camera, your mouth ajar, the pencil you were holding slipping out of your grip mid-air.

You were quite shy to admit it but you now understand why Wooyoung said it was for his eyes only.

It was a pretty picture.

—

Deeper into the night, Wooyoung finds himself running his fingers through your hair while you're laying your head on his lap, watching the stars dance in the endless obsidian sky.

Having you close like this, he gets to realize how frail you appear to be, one touch and he fears you'll break. A second of looking away from you and he's afraid you'll slip away from the clutch he has on you.

But then, there was your smile, ever blinding, and it made him think there was nothing wrong. That this was simply a storm passing by and that tomorrow a rainbow shall greet him from the bluish sky.

"Ask me again, Y/N," He asks after a while of comfortable silence, you merely humming back, eyes questioning him with what he means by that.

"Ask me the same question you asked me a month ago."

And just like that, bliss danced in your irises, but then you sat up a little bit too fast that it worried Wooyoung for a bit. However, the joy in your face never seemed to fade, and that was enough to reassure him that you didn't experience any pain of some sort.

"What color am I to you, Woo?" You paraphrased the question you dropped on him a month ago, one he couldn't answer yet. But now, he thinks he got it all memorized.

"My dear Y/N, if you were a color," He starts, leaning in towards you, his hands cupping your face and then he's resting his forehead against yours. "You'd be every color in the rainbow."

To Wooyoung, you were purple—a color that's meant for uniqueness and the artistic side of life, which you surely have running in your blood. Purple was a color that could relax the overall senses, which is why it's no surprise to him that it was now your favorite color.

Although, he believes you're also blue—not the feeling, though. Blue was a perfect color to describe your calm demeanor to others. Just like the feeling one gets from looking at the sky—breathtaking, pure, serene, and easy to look at. Wooyoung thinks he gets all of that just from a single glance at you.

But then you're also green. Softness and growth. In the short amount of time, he got the privilege to spend with you, he knows you've become more open to everything. You've once told him about what your past looked like and to be honest? He thinks you've started to learn to let go of the painful parts that once scarred you—like a leaf falling from the tree and letting the air carry it to anywhere it'd take it.

Yellow and orange are colors that represent joy and energy—you exude both. Wooyoung sees a certain glow in you, and he thinks Nurse Aliah will agree with him if he claims that the energy you possess is one of a kind, something that needs to be shared with everyone else.

A glow that gravitates people towards you.

And maybe that was one of the reasons that made Wooyoung stumble his way to you that very day you two first met.

Will you end up believing him if he said that that project was something he was forced to do? Wooyoung had never even touched a single camera until that day. And looking at how bright his world looks right now in front of him, he's glad he decided to do it.

"And lastly, you're red. You radiate passion and warmth, Y/N," Wooyoung tells you, never breaking away his gaze from you, and not caring if he ends up cross-eyed.

"You are love itself, and every day I wake up beyond grateful that I'm one of those people whom you've decided to share a piece of yourself with."

"Woo…" You say, already sniffling, while he's now finding it hard to see through his tears.

"Can I…Can I kiss you?" He asks, his hands shaking.

"You'll probably be my first and last-"

Wooyoung cuts you off with the tender feeling of his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was messy and frantic at first, like time was chasing you away, and was salty with all the tears. But then, every brush of your lips against his' turns into something sweet, making his insides flutter and his heart beat like he just ran a mile. Wooyoung feels warm all over as one of his hands found your waist, the other delicately holding your chin, and if he could wish for one thing, he would love to wish for this moment right here to stop as it is.

But the thing is, he can't.

He knows any moment now, an endless slumber shall find you. And if he can, he would like not to waste any remaining second he's got with you left.

"Woo, I'm tired," Wooyoung hears you say in a small voice after a while, a yawn escaping your lips and your eyes getting droopy.

He gently lifts you, placing you on his lap while letting your head rest in the crook of his neck. And then he's wrapping his arms around your body layered with jackets, cradling you like a baby.

"Woo?" He hears you speak once again. He hums back in response.

"Look at me, please?" You plead in a soft voice which almost breaks his heart there and then. But he looks at you, and when he does, he thinks he saw your eyes shine with the littlest spark it could still muster to show.

"Your eyes are really pretty," You say. Wooyoung looks away, fearing you'll see him cry. And he doesn't want you to go after seeing him in that state. Instead, he hugs you a little tighter.

"The sky is a witness to how grateful I am to have crossed paths with you, I hope you know…just how lucky I am and how happy I feel right now," You say with a contented sigh, and based on the way your cheek moved against his skin, he knows you're smiling right now.

But it turns out you weren't finished.

"My life was dull and repetitively the same until you came along with all your colors. Thank you for letting me feel how love feels like, I love you…and I'd like to believe I'll still do until we meet again."

That was the last time he heard your voice drifting in the wind before the chirping of the crickets increased tenfold.

"I love you, too, always, my pretty girl." Wooyoung gets to say before his entire body stills, your last intake of breath reaching his ears and your last exhale fanning his neck.

And then he's shaking, another batch of tears washing over him as he cries silently, slowly rocking your body with his, back and forth, and dropping soft kisses on the top of your head.

I don't want you wasting your tears on me, please.

He hears at the back of his head, bringing him back to the moment he saw you so fragile-looking for the first time.

Wooyoung actually got to talk with your doctor, Dr. Lee, that day. Dr. Lee had told him that it was considered a miracle, how you lasted for a month when he thought you'd only have a week left after the both of you saw the latest condition of your heart—only seeming to get weaker as each day passed.

Now, Wooyoung wasn't one to assume things, but he would like to think that you held out for him, all because you wanted to ask what color you were to him.

"If I were a color, what color would I be, Woo?"

"That's a question I can't answer after just a day of knowing you, Y/N." He answers truthfully. "How about I'll get back to you after a month?"

And you did wait for a month. Wooyoung would like to say it was a stupid reason but, he's glad you asked him that. And he's even glad that you were able to hear his answer to your question before you closed your eyes.

Somehow, it brought him peace.

—

Entering your room, Wooyoung feels nothing but emptiness, the joyful energy you once radiated, is now nowhere to be found—but the memories he got to share with you linger on.

Earlier, he volunteered to tidy your room and your things when Nurse Aliah asked, and now as he's walking near your bedside table, he spots something peeking out of the sketchbook you always used to carry with you to the garden. The sketchbook you didn't let him take a peek even once.

Wooyoung grabs it, and he lets out a sound of surprise when something falls out of the pages, dropping onto the floor. Crouching down, he picks up the bunch of paper and sees there are two drawings and two handwritten letters.

He takes the drawing you made for him—a sketch of him while he's holding the camera to his face—and the letter addressed to him. Then, he puts the ones that are for Nurse Aliah back on the table.

Wooyoung takes his time admiring every stroke and shade you've made while sitting on your bed.

Now he understands why you wouldn't let him peek even just a tiny bit.

Wooyoung feels his heart soaring because you drew him.

And it was a pretty drawing.

Wooyoung sniffs, putting the drawing on the bed and picking up the letter you wrote for him this time.

Frankly, he isn't sure if he's ready to read it, especially since your passing is still fresh in his mind and his heart is still hurting.

But then again, when will he ever be brave enough to read it alone? Wooyoung thinks reading it inside the room you once resided in will ease him even just a little bit, although he can't promise that he won't cry again.

And so, after a deep exhale, he opens your letter.

One look at the first line and Wooyoung finds himself breaking down for the nth time.

My dearest Woo,

Hi! I'll be honest with you, I wasn't really sure how to start this letter, but then I thought, what if I told you a story first? You like stories right? I hope you do. Anyway, here it goes.

Once upon a time, there was a little fairy. Now, this fairy was unlike any other fairy—she didn't have wings. (I know what you're probably thinking; why is she a fairy if she doesn't have wings? But cut me some slack, will you? This is probably why I should stick to drawing, which I hope you saw first, by the way.) Since she didn't have wings, she couldn't fly. And because she couldn't fly, she felt like she was always left behind, always feeling like an outcast that she almost resented herself for being born. Why wasn't she like normal fairies? She always finds herself asking.

Right when she thought all hope was lost for her, she met this boy. A boy who had no wings but was still able to fly. Of course, the fairy was in awe and disbelief, and so, she asked the boy, "How are you able to fly without wings?"

The boy grins at her and says, "Wings? Who says they're the only thing that could make you fly when pixie dust exists?"

"Pixie dust? What is that?" The fairy asks, and then the boy shows him a bag filled with golden-colored dust, which he pours into her hands.

"Sprinkle it all over you and think happy thoughts, then you'll be able to fly just like me," The boy says, and without hesitation, the fairy follows his words.

And when she did, she found her tiny feet slowly lifting off the ground. "I'm flying!" She exclaimed with great joy. After that, she became friends with the boy and together they soared to greater heights. But nothing ever lasts, don't they? Soon, the boy had to leave her, but before he left, he gave her another bag of pixie dust and promised to come back looking for her as long as she continued to think happy thoughts.

However, the time came when the pixie dust ran out, and the fairy had lost her glow and was unable to think of happy thoughts. In the end, her life ended before she could even know if the boy didn't really plan on coming back, or if he simply wasn't able to find her. The end.

Whew, what a story!

I don't know if it made sense to you, Woo. But I think, what I'm trying to say is, I want to make things lighter by saying that, in that story, the fairy was me, and you were the boy who gave me hope. Although, I'd also like to believe that our ending will be slightly different from theirs. We both know that I don't have much time left, we do. And which is why, I'm hoping that before I rest, I'll still be with you long enough to let you feel how much I adore and appreciate you.

The thing is, being born with achromatopsia was already sufferable enough for my younger self. And then, imagine, my doctor comes in one day and tells me I also have problems with my heart and that my days are numbered.

Of course, I became miserable, who wouldn't? I felt like the world caved in on me. During that time, I only had Nurse Aliah and I even shut her out. I thought life was so unfair, because why did I have to go through something I didn't even wish to have while other people my age were living the life I could've lived?

But of course with Nurse Aliah not giving up on me and encouraging me to do the same, I outgrew that phase, or so I thought.

I was a work in progress when lo and behold, you jumpscared me with your camera and affinity for the word pretty. Have I told you how giddy it makes me feel and how blushy I get when you call me that? No? Well, now you know.

Wooyoung, despite all the loudness and wonderful chaos you entailed, you became my peace. Just like how the scratchy sound of the pencil's nib against my sketchbook brought me comfort, so did the sound of your camera shutter.

Did you know that right before the moment you decided to enter my life, I was deeply yearning for something brand new? Well, that yearning was fulfilled, because that something brand new, became you, Wooyoung. In case you haven't realized yet. (But of course, I know you do!)

By the time you read this, I'm probably, well, gone…but I'd like to think I'll be among the stars twinkling in the night sky, trying to get your attention by shining the brightest while you're staring out of your window. (Please, say hi back to me!)

Just like what I said, don't waste your tears again on me, okay? My dear Wooyoung, promise me you'll only smile when you think of me, please. I don't want to cause my favorite people any form of sadness or any kind of pain.

Truth is, I…I don't really wanna go. After meeting you, I suddenly wasn't sure if I was ready to leave everything, especially you, behind, just yet.

But then again, we can never always have what we want right? It's bittersweet, but that's life for you. I'm just so, so glad that this weak heart of mine was still able to beat for you.

I love you, more than you'll ever know.

Forever and always your pretty girl,

Y/N

P.S. When will you ever show me those pictures you've taken of me, huh?

— ☁️

[rainydaydream-gal18]

(The Bad Batch) Crosshair x Reader: In My Dreams

The Bad Batch is finally enjoying a time of peace and even some relaxation.  Things are going well, but then you catch a glimpse of someone unexpected.

Word count: 821

Warnings: Angst, Spoilers for the Bad Batch S2 episode “Pabu.”

Sequel can be found HERE: More Than a Dream

   A warm breeze blew in through the window, ruffling the long, sheer curtains.  You breathed out a sigh at the sound of a wind chime softly tinkling.  Shifting around on the mattress to get more comfortable, you let your tired mind wander.

   Pabu had turned out to be quite the place to relax and kick back.  You hadn’t seen your teammates look so happy in a long time, if ever.  It brought out a different side in each and every one of you.  There were so many smiles, sighs, and much laughter.

   The decision to stay and help rebuild lower Pabu wasn’t a hard one.  The people had been so kind and hospitable to you all, and after the sea surge, the Batch felt it was the right thing to do.

   Sleep finally claimed you.  With the sound of the ocean pushing and pulling against the shore, and insects chirping outside, your eyes fell shut.

   Cold.

   It was bitter cold.

   Teeth chattered.  Hands trembled.  Your body ached, and you could scarcely move.  Squinting through the harsh white landscape, there was nothing to be found.  No structures.  No people.  It was just ice and snow.

   Then you saw his face.  His eyes.  

   It was an expression that you’d never seen on him before.  His gaze was narrowed in the ferocious snowfall, in determination, but they widened every now and then with something akin to fear as he glanced down at his companion who had become a mere limp body that he ushered on.  His chest rose and fell deeply as if each breath absolutely pained him.

   You called his name.  Screamed it.  But your voice couldn’t be heard over the wailing winds.

   Drawing in a sharp breath, you jolted from the nightmare with a start.  Relief washed over you when the only sounds that could be heard were that little wind chime outside and the sea in the distance.  The air was mellow and soothing on your skin.

   Even so, a hollow feeling settled in your chest.  The dream was still too near.

   You rested your head back down on the pillow, feeling salty tears slip down your cheek.  No one was around to hear your cries, so for once you indulged in the release.  Your clutched the pillow closer 

   “Why are you crying?” a familiar, raspy, yet soothing voice sounded just behind you.

   “I had a bad dream,” you sobbed.  “I saw you.  You were cold, and it was dark, and…”

   An arm slipped around your waist.  He drew you closer so that your back was against his chest, and your eyes fell shut as his warmth enveloped you.  A shaky sigh filled the room as you pressed even closer.

   “It was just that,” he uttered quietly, his slender fingers brushing your arm, “a dream.”

   Your lashes fluttered as drowsiness crept its way back in.  “I’m glad you’re here.  I’ve been worried about you.”

  He didn’t respond to that.  Silence fell between the two of you, and you took the opportunity to simply focus on the deep, slow breaths he took that were no longer pained like they had been in your dream.

   “Go back to sleep,” he murmured.  But you were already halfway there.

  You awoke to golden sunlight pouring in, casting bright shapes along the floor leading up to your bedroll.  There was no desire to stay curled up under the covers for long as the temperature had already begun its late-morning climb.

   “Cross?  What time is it?”  You reached over to feel nothing but the crumpled sheet.  That’s when the memories started pouring in.  

   Oh.  Right.  Crosshair was still gone…

   Your heart sank, yet you found yourself almost chuckling.  It’s funny how a couple of dreams could erase all of that for a short time.  It’s funny just how far hope can go.  Rising from the bedroll, you stretched and folded the linens for later use.

   When you arrived on the balcony for breakfast, it appeared that the rest of your squad and their hosts were nearly done with the meal.

   “Hey!  Look who decided to join us!” Wrecker laughed.  “Mornin’, sleepyhead!”

   “That’s rather amusing coming from you,” Tech retorted, adjusting his goggles.  Omega held up her hands to hide a giggle.  It was true, Wrecker was almost always the last one up.

   “Rough night?” Hunter asked sympathetically as you took the empty seat beside him.  You smoothed out your clothes and fixed your hair quickly.

  “Just some weird dreams,” you replied, waving off his concern casually.  You turned your attention to the beautiful spread of fruits and pastries that adorned the table.  “Wow, this looks great.”

   “It tastes great!” Wrecker muttered through a mouthful of food.  “You’ve got to try some of those apples.”

   You brushed off the last of your uneasiness about the dreams and smiled, glad to start another lovely day on Pabu with your squad.

   But the hope that remained wasn't so easily discarded.

[finnarcher7]

Riley is worried that Jack has a death wish ever since Mac had quit a few months ago.

Jack woke to the sound of the steady beeping of his heart monitor and the muffled sniffling of someone nearby. His head throbbed in sync with his heartbeat, each pulse sending a fresh wave of agony through his skull. He cracked his eyes open carefully and groaned, the too-bright light in his room piercing his vision like twin daggers stabbing into his brain.

He heard someone moving around, the soft rustle of clothing and the quiet padding of feet. Then, a familiar female voice broke through the haze of his pain.

“Is that better?” Riley asked softly, her voice tender and full of concern.

Jack cracked his eyes open experimentally once more, finding the pain much more bearable as the harsh light dimmed slightly.

“Ri?” Jack questioned, his voice rough and scratchy, each word scraping against his throat.

“How are you feeling?” the hacker asked, her voice wavering with barely suppressed emotion.

“I’m alright,” Jack answered, though his voice lacked conviction.

As his vision cleared, Jack could see the telltale signs of tears on Riley’s face. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, a stark contrast to her usual composed demeanor. It was clear she had been crying for some time.

“Ri, what’s wrong?” the older agent asked worriedly, his stomach dropping with fear. Had something happened to Mac? Nigeria wasn’t exactly the safest country, and the kid was like a magnet for trouble.

“Do you have a death wish or something?” Riley asked, her voice a mixture of anger and desperation.

“What?” Jack furrowed his brow, unsure of what she was saying.

“Ever since Mac left, you’ve been volunteering for every dangerous mission at the Phoenix. You almost died, Jack. If that bullet had been just a few millimeters over, you would have.” Riley wiped at her damp cheeks with both hands, her fingers trembling.

He had never seen Riley this emotional before. It was very uncharacteristic of her, and it tore at his heart to see the tears freely flowing down her beautiful face.

Riley had been in the War Room as tech support for the mission and had seen it all happen live in high-definition clarity. The drone captured the very moment her father figure took two rounds to his vest, one to the shoulder, and a deep graze above his left ear. She had watched in horror and screamed as he collapsed to the ground, blood pouring from the deep groove that had been carved out by the bullet on the side of his head. Her laptop clattered to the floor and she covered her face unable to look at the bloody form of Jack as he laid there lifeless.

She had thought she had just watched him die, and the scene kept replaying over and over in her mind. The hacker had broken down so much that Matty had to have Jill take over for Riley for the remainder of the mission.

This was the second time since Mac left that Jack had had a near miss and had woken up in Phoenix Medical. Jack hadn’t handled Mac’s absence and lack of communication very well. Each ignored call and unanswered message felt like a fresh wound, deepening his sense of abandonment.

Did Mac even care about Jack anymore? It certainly didn’t appear so. All his attempts at contact were met with silence, as if Mac wanted nothing to do with him, and that hurt the older agent deeply.

Maybe he had been playing a little fast and loose with his life since Mac left. The reckless behavior, the constant need to throw himself into danger—it was all a way to numb the pain, to fill the void Mac had left behind.

"I love you, Jack… I can’t lose you again, so I need you to be a lot more careful, okay?" Riley’s voice broke, and she swiped another tear off her face.

“I know how important Mac is to you, but you are important to me.”

Jack’s eyes teared up with his girls admission.

“I love you too, honey… I’ll do my best, okay?”

[the-masked-ram]

Apple Cinnamon Tea- Sero x Reader Love Letter Comm

A/N: This is a love letter comm for the wonderful @potionpeddlerpatchy who sent me a little bit of help in my time of need CW: first pov (from Sero's perspective), fem reader, reader prefers tea, otherwise just pure sweet fluff --- To the one who will always hold my heart,

When I first saw you, my gaze skipped right by. I thought nothing more than you were another beautiful girl who wouldn’t give me the time of day. That I would watch as you were wooed over by one of the others even as I tried to put myself out there.

It was easy to say I wouldn’t try. It wasn’t so easy controlling myself. Especially that first time you showed me a smile, so honest and easy and I had no ability to do anything but smile right back. It was like you pulled it from my very soul. Something I so naturally do anyway, but you made it brighter, made it bigger, and made it even more natural. I knew then I had no hope of keeping my distance.

I found myself seeking you out in every crowd. Searching for the brightness you brought to others around. Every time you laughed my ears would hone in on the sound, like I had a quirk specifically made just for you. It wasn’t until I saw you with Bakugou at the gala, though, that I realized I’d never be okay just giving up. I had to at least try.

I should never have been so nervous. I knew how to flirt, how to date, I’d done it before, both unsuccessfully and successfully. Yet, with you, I felt like a newborn fawn who couldn’t get their legs under them. It was frustrating because I couldn’t take that first step. All I could do was greet you, smile, and bask in that little giggle you’d give me as you turned back to the task at hand.

It was easy to find reasons to go to the hero company you worked with. It was harder to find a reason to stop by your desk. You weren’t anyone big, anyone ‘important’ in the eyes of the public. But that didn’t matter to me. So, the first day I managed to work up the nerve to stop by with two cups, one with coffee for me and the other with the apple cinnamon tea I’d seen you drink occasionally, in my hand; that surprised smile you gifted me with was enough to cause my heart to spasm. It was like having the breath punched out of me.

Damn, you were beautiful. You smiled and tilted your head in innocent curiosity. You didn’t want to assume, or perhaps it really was you didn’t realize how much I liked you. Your smile only brightened, to near blinding levels, when I placed the tea on your desk.

I asked you if you’d like to get a drink. You laughed, fully, deeply, from somewhere within your chest that flowed out from your body and into the surrounding room. The sound warmed my skin.

“Didn’t you just bring me some?” you asked, that laugh still making your words light and easy.

That softness you spoke with melted into the way you looked at me too. It burned away the nerves that were twisting my stomach, instead I just grinned widely, I went with it. I found my feet under me, and I wondered why I’d been so anxious all along.

“Yeah, I did,” I remembered saying, I recalled raising my cup to hide the flush burning across my cheeks. “But that’s just insurance. You can’t say no to stepping into the break room for a few minutes to share a cup, right?”

There was a flash of mischief in your eyes, something that fractured the sweetness you so often relied upon. It was a hint of something I would uncover later. Something I would learn about as I peeled back layers of your personality. I wanted to learn everything about you, I wanted to learn who you were, what made you like that, and what you loved. I wanted to learn every flaw and perfection you had. I thought maybe that was what love was. Did I love you?

I knew I cared about you, that I was interested in you, but did I love you? Seeing you take a sip of your tea, seeing you relish the warmth and spices, I decided it was the most likely outcome. That me… a clumsy man, a hero who didn’t even make the top ten, someone who had always been in the background, loved you, and hoped to catch your eye.

That smile never left your face but for a moment it seemed to deepen, something seemed to shine from within it. There was an expectation that waited beneath the surface.

Finally, you said, “Are you asking me on a date, Sero?”

My heart jumped, my blood rushed in my ears, and my breath caught in my chest. I tried so hard to be cool, to be relaxed and not let you see me flustered. It was a futile fight.

A laugh escaped my chest, one I couldn’t capture before it broke free. It slipped through my grasping fingers like sand through a strainer. It was airy, awkward, and hopeful. It matched my smile, the one that was often cocky and sneaky just as often as it was bright and confident, yet now it was nervous at the thought of being uncovered. Even though I knew this was what I came in for… that this was what I had planned to happen, I still wished I had the chance to back out without getting egg all over my face.

It wasn’t possible now, and though I was so often cool and confident in so many hard circumstances, you made me feel like a puddle of wobbling Jell-O. I rubbed an anxious hand across the back of my neck and nodded. “Yeah, yeah I am. What do you say?” I asked.

I remember that day like it was yesterday. Because that was the first time you said yes to me, that was the first time I got what I wanted selfishly and didn’t step aside like had so many times before. And now… now it has turned to today, when I’m holding that velvet box in my pocket as I ask you out to dinner later. So, I can ask you a much bigger question under the glitter of the stars.

-Always yours,

Sero

[krizaland]

Forever Yours Chapter 10

LMK Wukong x Bao Li

First Previous

Wukong turned his attention back to Bao Li.

“Are you ok?”

Bao Li felt her heart flutter in her chest.

She had no idea Wukong had such beautiful eyes!

She was utterly captivated by their Ruby red glow.

“Yeah I’m just fine…”

“You sure?” Wukong asked gently.

“Yes. It’s just…Your eyes…they’re like rubies.” Bao Li gushed.

“Like rubies? What are you- Oh.”

In that moment Wukong realized his glamours had dropped.

“I can explain! I-”

“Your eyes are so beautiful…” Bao Li purred, still starstruck.

Wukong’s face flushed a bit.

“Wait! So you’re not like freaked out or anything?”

“Goodness no! I’m just surprised is all. I’ve never seen eyes with such a beautiful red color.” Bao Li confessed excitedly.

“Phew! I’m glad you’re so cool about my eyes being red. I was worried you were gonna like freak out or something.” Wukong chuckled nervously as he rubbed the back of his head.

“Is that why you hide them away?” Bao Li asked as her face fell a bit.

“Kinda, yeah. It’s not exactly comforting to see someone with glowing red eyes.” Wukong admitted as he twirled his wrist.

“Well I still think they’re beautiful, sunbeam.” Bao Li reassured.

“Really? Thanks! Your eyes are beautiful too!” Wukong replied with a chuckle.

“Since we’re sharing secrets. I think it’s time I showed you something.”

Bao Li removed her choker, revealing a golden circlet wrapped around her neck.

“I was born with powerful magic. According to my parents, I nearly destroyed half the palace before I could even speak. Because of that, I wear this circlet-” -Bao Li gestured to the circlet- “-It neutralizes my powers so I can’t cause anymore trouble.”

Wukong’s eyes widened in shock.

“What?! They just locked your powers away?! Just like that?!!”

“Well like I said, my power was incredibly dangerous. If it hadn’t been for this circlet, they would’ve killed me. Or so I’ve been told,” Bao Li explained, “But the bright side is that my powers accidentally created The Gem of Immortality. So that’s a silver lining, right?”

“So lemme get this straight, you have magical powers, your parents couldn’t handle them so they sealed them away?” Wukong asked incredulously.

“Well, when you word it like that, you make it sound like a bad thing.” Bao Li giggled sheepishly.

“Because it is a bad thing! Peaches, they should’ve taught you how to control your powers not just take them away!” Wukong whined.

“Well, it was for everyone’s safety and-”

“No. If they truly cared about safety then they would’ve shown you how to control your powers. They just took them away from you because they didn’t like them.” Wukong interjected with his hands on his hips.

Bao Li looked down at her feet again.

Wukong sighed and put a hand on her shoulder.

“Look, I’m not mad at you. I’m mad for you. Your powers aren’t weapons of destruction. They’re a part of you. A part of you that was stolen by people who couldn’t bother to appreciate them.”

“I appreciate that but-”

“But nothing! You deserve to have your powers! In fact-” -Wukong looked down at the circlet.

“Wukong? What are you doing-”

Bao Li let out a terrified squeak as Wukong grabbed onto the circlet.

“Setting you free!”

“No! Stop! My powers are far too dangerous to be released!” Bao Li warned as she tried to peel his hands off the circlet.

“Not if you learn to control them! I can show you how to control your powers!” Wukong insisted, his grip tightening.

“But how can you be so sure about that?!” Bao Li whimpered, still fighting against Wukong’s grip.

“I learned to control my own powers. I can help you with yours! You just gotta trust me!” Wukong gazed deeply into Bao Li’s eyes.

Wukong’s Ruby eyes twinkled with determination, reminding Bao Li of the endless courage within Wukong’s heart.

He survived The Three Deadly Trials.

He survived The Lava Demon.

He even survived her father.

If Wukong could handle all of that, then maybe he could handle her powers.

“Wukong… I trust you.”

Bao Li let go of the circlet and gave Wukong a nod.

“Alright! Here goes!”

With a loud war cry, Wukong pulled the circlet clean off Bao Li’s neck.

FSSH!!

A bright flash of pink light engulfed Bao Li, lifting up her body for a moment.

Soon the light faded, dropping Bao Li.

Wukong quickly dove down and caught her before she hit the ground.

“Peaches! Are you ok?!” Wukong demanded as he held her close.

“Yes! I’m actually better than ok-” Bao Li stood up straighter and looked down at her hands.- “-I feel…free!“

“See I told you-”

Wukong was cut off by Bao Li pulling him into a hug.

“Thank you! Thank you so so so much!”

“Of course, you deserve to have your powers back!” Wukong cheered as he returned the hug.

“I’ll admit, while I’m excited, I’m still scared of my powers. I don’t want to cause any damage. Or worse, hurt you-”

“You can’t hurt me, peaches! I’ve got like tons of layers of immortality on me! I can handle anything!” Wukong reassured.

“Even incredibly dangerous powers?”

“Especially incredibly dangerous powers!”

Bao Li let out a sigh of relief,

“You have no idea how much that means to me. Seriously, thank you for setting me free. Oh! And thank you for sticking up for me too, Sunbeam.”

With a giggle, Bao Li pulled Wukong into a sweet kiss.

Wukong eagerly returned the kiss, savoring the moment.

When it came time for the couple to part, Wukong caressed Bao Li’s face.

“I’ll always be there for you, peaches. I promise.”

“And I’ll always be there for you too, Sunbeam!”

Wukong gleefully spun Bao Li a bit.

“This is gonna be great! Tomorrow I’m gonna show you how to control your powers then we can snuggle the day away!”

Bao Li laughed playfully and kissed his cheek.

“I can’t wait!”

“Now c’mon, let’s get back to the wedding before anyone notices were gone.” Wukong chuckled.

And with that, Wukong and Bao Li returned to the wedding hand in hand.

Next

[lyn-rambles]

To reach what once was there

To hold what once was there series: Part I

Pairing: Skyrose (Luke Skywalker x Primrose Lutto)

Summary: Initiates learn from their masters, and sometimes masters learn from initiates. After Grogu's parting, Luke has a moment of solititude and reflection, he might have messed up big time.

Word count: 2.7 K

Warnings: Angst but has a fluffy ending, mentions of break ups, Macondo wants Luke's head on a spike, Canon complainant, Mandalorian and Book of Boba Fett Spoilers, I haven't seen both but I know the enough Spoilers to write this, not proof read we die like men.

The weather seemed to laugh at his face. He sat under the tree he used to meditate, and sighed opening his blue sky eyes. He had grown used to be alone, building the new Jedi School was going smoothly as it could thanks to the droid's, but it had never felt so lonely.

He closed his eyes again and tried to empty his mind, inhaling deeply. Abandon all what surrounded him, to reach within and…

He chose the attachment.

He gasped, this was going to be harder,so much harder. He stretched and let his back hit the soft grass, the sunlight swept through the branches down to his face and golden hair.

"I can't blame him." Luke whispered to himself. He had done the same twice, none of them had come without a price but both had taught him a lesson. R2 had arrived back without many issues, even it had not pressed the issue. Luke had failed in keeping his very first student, and that made him sigh again. He closed his eyes again, letting the sun warm his body, so different to Tattoine's sun that scorched everything that it touched, but it was so much more similar to the soft caress of her calloused hand.

Luke shot his eyes open. He breathed heavily, he hadn't thought about Prim in a while or maybe he had forced him to look away from the thought of her.

"So you are breaking up with me?" The way like her voice sounded only worsened the ache of his heart but he had to stand firm.

Her workshop seemed less cluttered and more of her style of messy.

"Yes," he swallowed the knot on his throat. "It's not that-"

"It is a Jedi thing?" She interrupted him. She had braced her arms like she used to do on Hoth. He did not answer, for he feared he might break, even now she was being understanding, he wanted her to lash out at him, to tell him to fuck off, but she didn't. Luke could feel the fear the astonishment, pain, sadness, but not anger. Why wasn't she mad at him?

He frowned, and stood up to change places to meditate, maybe that would help him to change his set of mind.

He repeated all the steps and was met again with the block, what was worst, the same tingle when he wanted to say goodbye for the last time as he had hoped.

"I shouldn't," Her voice was beginning to break. She had turned her face instead of meeting his lips. "I don't want to make this harder."

He swallowed, there was the same tingle on the Force. He had heard the stifled sobs behind the door, he wanted to enter and take all what he said back, but he continued his way back to the X-wing, his chest to tight to breath, and even to keep watching the whole planet hurt; his eyes stung, maybe the bright light had caused it. At least he did not had a reason to go back to Tatooine, until Grogu had chosen.

He hunched over, confused, his own mind too clouded to part the ways on his own. The birds chirped around him, a couple flew around trying to peck each other like they where playing. He returned his gaze to the silky grass, if he couldn't find answers on his own then maybe he could figure them out with someone else.

"Father, I need counsel" Which was very weird. The only time he had spoke to him in life was just before he died.

"And in which way could I help you?" His voice was different from the one that came from his suit, it was… boyish in a surprisingly mature way.

"There is something that has been clouding my judgement." He met his gaze to a pair of eyes that looked just like his. "My first student left, following a bond he had with the Mandalorian, and it is giving me second thoughts about…" He trailed off, how hard could it be to tell your dead father about an ex-girlfriend? Surely a situation that he didn't thought he could get into, yet again, he had thought he would stay with Primrose, his stars.

"Why is it that your thoughts trail down to someone?" He wasn't teasing him, he was genuinely concerned as he sat in a more relaxed way, maybe to assure him that he could tell him anything. "Someone dear to you perhaps?"

"Yeah, she is." Luke whispered, his lips curving into a smile, as he looked down to the grass, not that he had a faint pink color on his cheeks.

"Well, well," now he was teasing him. "it's seem that she's more than dear to you." Now he chuckled. "You need ideas on how to propose?"

That made Luke's smile falter. "I don't think that would be possible." He said, sadness washed over his tone.

That made Anakin look at him perplexed. "I am sorry."

"Don't be," Luke moved his head side to side. "It's just that, " He couldn't look at him, for reasons. "I broke up with her a while ago, and Grogu's parting left me thinking."

"About..?"

"My decision," He gave a shaky breath. "I broke up with her because Jedis aren't allowed to have attachments, and I couldn't risk her to the consequences of it."

Anakin could visualize with a plethora of details what would the Council say and what would his Master would have told him to say, and even the scolding he would probably get if they were alive, and still decided to go with what he would have done.

"You are the only Jedi here, right?" His son looked at him puzzled, he had the same expression that Padmé would have done.

"Yes, but-"

"That makes this," he motioned the bamboo away and showed the construction site. "The new Jedi Order?"

"Yes."

"So you have the opportunity to make things right for all of us?" He finally asked. Then a new sense of embarrassment washed over him, it seemed like an obvious conclusion and he knew it, but still felt somehow wrong to betray the old teachings.

"Hey," His ghost had walked next to him and his hand was placed over his shoulder. It was comforting even if he did not touched him. "It might seem obvious, but you were trusted with a burden greater than than you," he took a pause. "Sharing our burdens, not only strengthen our bonds," he smiled at him. "It also connects us deeper to the Force… "

"Because it makes us empathic?"

"Attaboy, " Luke smiled at him. "Any idea of the next step? "

He nodded and jogged off to get R2. Anakin sighed, this was going to end up in trouble for him as Obi-Wan approached him.

"Master, please, my son-"

"Needed his father," Obi gave him a wrinkled smile. "and your advice was better than any other could have given." They heard the X-wing take flight before they faded again.

He landed in the outskirts of Mos Eisley, it was just a go and get the talk, maybe ask for forgiveness? And if everything went as he hoped then…

He sighed as he entered the shop the gentle tingle of the bell alerted the yellow twi'lek, he looked no older than 7, he sat on a tall stool, coloring a book over the counter.

"Welcome!" He greeted. "My dad will be here in a minute."

He nodded. Dad? Had Primrose went over him and married someone else? She could easily have, they haven't seen each other in two years and anyone would be lucky to have her. He feared for the in coming steps until he saw her brother… Macondo. He dropped the wrench on his hand, his eyes wide open and mouth gaping, and then his expression turned to anger, his knuckles turned white. He could sense the warning on the Force.

"Fes'kika," Luke knew that he wanted to speak gently. "Go to the back, and do not come out until I say so."

The kid felt the anger on his father's words, but it wasn't directed at him, but to the man clad in the black robes, and ran inside.

"With what right do you show your face here, Skywalker?" He growled, he stomped his way to him. "WITH WHAT RIGHT DO YOU COME HERE, HUH?" He yanked him from the collar of his shirt getting him down.

"I came here to apologize" His voice was sure and calm, that made Maco madder.

"APOLOGIZE!?" He shaked him. "APOLOGIZE AFTER TWO YEARS?!" He tried to push him to the ground but he only managed to make Luke stamer twice.

"Listen, Maco, I-"

"I DON'T CARE!" He balled his fists again. "I don't care, that you suddenly felt bad about it, or that in some weird Jedi shit you came you came to your senses," He was shaking. "or that you need help because some bounty hunter took Jabba's kriffing place." He swallowed, trying to calm himself, but Luke knew that he still wanted to bash his brains out.

"You have already caused enough damage with your little Jedi Code." Of course he knew. "She doesn't need to have your sorry ass here or anywhere around her."

Luke swallowed, after all he had hurt her, beyond anything that they had endured. Maco was right, how did he dared to even pull this stunt, when he had purposely shut everything that could remotely remind him of Primrose to stop the ache of his heart and mind; he still had to try and mend it.

"Maco, listen," he pleaded, and that took the other youngman off guard. "I-I know I messed up big time, and that 2 years of no contact do not say great things if me and-and… I-I have to atone for it."

Now Maco gaped again, too torned between hating every last hair of him and truly feeling sorry for him, he knew he wanted to punch him and he deserved it, but he also wanted to be spiteful and make him figure his shit on his own, but also for her sake… he took a breath.

"Why?" He asked. "Why now, Skywalker?"

"Because, someone less experienced than me, and much better reminded me of a lesson I learned a long time ago."

Maco turned his back to him and crossed his arms, his grease stained tank top facing him.

"I know you are there, small fry." He called onto the counter and he could see the yellow forehead peaking from there.

"How much did you hear?"

"All of it." Both men turned to see Primrose, she carried a Republic crate behind her and a full backpack.

Primrose wasn't used to have dinners that turned this disastrous, she barely touched her plate, Maco sometimes looked at her with compassion, like he felt sorry about the show he gave, and other's he looked at Luke like wanted him to choke on his fork.

Fes'kika wanted to know everything about Prim's latest mission, as she sometimes answered with monosyllables or just nodded at him. She couldn't help but to stare at Luke, she should be mad, she knew she should have kicked him out, but she couldn't her heart was pounding fast like she was the 20 year old that had just stolen his first kiss, but it also hurted like Bobba's blaster all over again, she felt her heart strings ripping out again as he walked out the door from the workshop. She knew she would heal eventually, but she would not be able to if she appeared from nowhere like today.

Luke did not even touch his food as he looked at her words tied on his throat,he had to think away to do this.

"I'm afraid you'll have to pardon me," She spoke. "I am not hungry anymore." No one said anything, as she saved her plate and walked to her room. The kid looked disappointed, but did not voiced it. The tension did not eased there.

Prim sat on her desk, and took out the box, she hadn't had the heart to let go of the trinkets that Luke had gifted her, they weren't many, but most held a significant value. She sighed tracing the edges of one of his rarest gifts, an uncolored kyber crystal, she remembered vividly that day. He had been trying to hoard all the information he could get about the crystals and Saber construction when he had jumped out of that X-wing, and ran to the other hangars just to show her his finding.

Maco knocked making her save her things fast. "Come in"

He swept through the door, and walked with a stool under his arm, he was still mad at Luke but he wasn't actually going to let him freeze to death.

"I can take them to him." She offered, if Luke was there, they had a long due talk to have.

"And I don't want you to rub salt over your wounds." retorted Maco.

"And I don't want you to get too worked up over them." She sighed. "I just want clearance."

Maco couldn't held her gaze, a long time has happened since she needed his actual protection. "If he dares to even do something…"

"Please don't punch him" that made them laugh. He placed the blankets over her arms and she walked to Luke's room.

"Good Luck, Prim." He thought before going to tuck Fes in.

Luke opened the door to be greeted by Prim, she stepped in the warm lit room. This used to be her brothers' shared room, but it had become the visit's room. It wasn't decorated, just plain white walls and a desk they hadn't been able to move, besides a bed.

They didn't talk much as she helped him to do the bed, but there were some stolen glances that Luke couldn't ignore, he had to make things right.

"How have you been doing?" He said sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Trying to get by, working for the New Republic and such." She forced a smile. "and you?"

"Trying to get by too," he sighed. "My first student left the academy."

She turned her head at him shocked, she looked concerned and that only made him even more embarrassed at himself.

"Why?" She asked she had scooted maybe half a centimeter closer and to him it meant the world.

"He had a better judgment than me about the attachment rule." He sighed defeated.

"That means..?" She was interested that was good, he might still have a chance.

"That I wanted to apologize," He turned to face her. "I messed up big time, I broke up with you thinking that…" He inhaled. "it would endanger you if I was ever put to test again, like…" He trailed of but he saw her gaze over his prosthetic hand. "And I was scared to find what length would I go to save anyone, specially you."

So he was scared of becoming like his father, Maco was right, he deserved the punching.

"I did wanted you to know that even after all this time," he swallowed. "I still love you, with my mind, soul and heart."

"Why are you telling me this?" that question was harsher than it should be. "Why do you come here and try to make me forgive you?" He stayed silent, because she immediately continued. "Why do you come here looking like you lost something, or like you have lost your way through life, and ask for forgiveness for something I was never angry to begin with?" OK her voice began to crack this was bad. "Why do you come an tell the same words you used after you came back?" She inhaled shaking. "Why?" and then she sobbed. Luke did not knew if it was his place to comfort her as he did, but he still held her gently to his chest.

"Because I wronged you," he sighed rubbing her back. "because I hurt you for the exact same reason the Old Order failed, I interpreted the scriptures so literally that I drove everyone away." He sighed. "Because I came back from the horrible path I was placing myself into." She hugged him back, she was still crying but she could still see his hurting.

"You are an idiot." He wanted to laugh. "An idiot I love against my better judgment."

[greeen-bean]

Friday

"Maybe it just takes seventy years to get the hang of being alive."

"'I'll never forget what dear old John Lennon said: We're more popular than Jesus now. They attacked him for it that, I'll tell you. But he was right. It was a religion.'"

"'They gave these girls something very safe to love. Something that would never bite them back. In the sixties, everything would bite you back if you were a girl.' I wonder whether that's why I love The Ark. Because they're safe. But they're not, are they? They still managed to bite me back when I got too close."

"'Were you part of beatlemania?' I ask her. She chuckles and looks down at the table. 'Well, that was a long time ago,' she says."

"When am I going to get to visit Granddad next? Who knows when I I'll have my next day off? What if he dies before then? What if I've already seen him for the last time?"

" Friends come and go. Right? I've been through this already so many times before. Friends are good for a while, but eventually, you have to move on. 'Best Friends Forever' is an imaginary concept. No one can be friends forever. Not with me anyway. Doesn't matter. It's all good. I've still got The Ark."

"He huffed a laugh. 'Are those the only two options? 'Fancy' or 'deeply in love'?'"

"'I get it.' 'What?' 'I get why you lied.' I smile weakly. 'I do stuff like that too. Back at home, with my school friends. I just say things to be liked and... stay silent about stuff I care about. Because I feel like no one cares about the "real me". But with Juliet I felt a bit more like myself.'"

"Sometimes I look at Rowan and can't remember what he used to look like. [...] He had rimless glasses and short tight curls. His jumper was way too big for him. As soon as we both learnt that we each wanted to be in a band we were best friends. The boy next to me isn't anything like that boy. Not bright-eyed and excited to tell me about the new guitar he got for his birthday. Not dragging me to the music block to show me he could play the baseline of a Vaccines song. No laughter. No wonder. We got what we wanted in the end, though. Didn't we? We wanted to be in a band."

"Lister starts tapping out a quiet jazz beat on the drums. [...] I start pressing the buttons on my lunch pad in time with Lister's beat. It isn't on, so it doesn't any sound apart from rhythmic clicks. [...] Rowan starts plucking a few notes in time with my button-pressing and Listers beat. [...] Lister starts singing under his breath. 'And when he gets to heaven,' he sings - words I don't know, and a tune that goes somehow perfectly with the chords Rowan is making up on the spot - 'to Saint Peter he will tell: one more soldier reporting, Sir. I've served my time in hell.'"

"Sometimes I think about taking drugs. Sometimes I think it might help. When I see Lister smoke and drink, I know it's bad, but I understand why he does it. So he doesn't have to think. I hate thinking."

"' You know I love you, right?' he says, his voice sounding different, low, right next to my ear. 'I know you and Rowan have always been a team, but... I love you too... okay?'"

"'Do you ever imagine what would happen if we just... ran away?' asks Lister, suddenly. [...] 'I think about it all the time,' I say. God I want to try. 'Do you?' 'Yeah?' God, I just want to go. 'I should try it,'"

"I could go and see Granddad. We could celebrate my birthday and he could make me hot chocolate and we could play Scrabble."

"I step backwards, away from him, away from the window. 'I think I'm gonna go,' I say. His grin drops. 'Jimmy... are you joking?' I step back a little more dropping down from the pavement. My heart is beating so fast.I feel so fucking good. 'No,' I say. [...] It's silent apart from the pattering of the rain. 'Where are you going?!' He shouts at me. Oh God, I could go anywhere."

"Juliet or Jimmy? It's an obvious choice, right? I need to talk to Juliet. Jimmy will have to wait. I can message him on Twitter later. He'll probably never see it anyway. Juliet is the priority today. I need to talk to her. I need to repair the mess I've made."

"'Whatever's troubling you, it'll go away.' I look back at him and say, 'What?' He he taps his finger on the steering wheel. 'I know it can't be easy being someone like you. D'you have friends around you? People to support you?' I mumble something about being fine and close the door. Enough of that."

"I want Angel to come with me. I don't know why, but I do. Is it because I know I won't be able to get through out of here alone? Maybe. Is it because I feel drawn to her? I don't know. I don't know why I feel anything anymore. Maybe it's just because she's the only fan in the world who knows who I really am. I don't want to just say goodbye and never see her again."

"'My Grandma's dead, I say. She stops talking. 'My mum and dad have always worked. They're divorced and they've both got big business careers that take them all over the world, which is why I've lived with my grandparents since I was little. But because of that I've never been close to them. They they don't really care about me that much so I don't speak to them very often.' She doesn't talk. Our shoes splash against the road. 'My older sister goes to university in America. We don't really talk. She doesn't like people knowing we're related.'"

"I go to the front of the pews and sit for the first time in weeks, months, I don't know how long, reach out to God. He's Waiting. He always is. No matter how long I go, no matter how shit it all gets, at least I have one or two things waiting for me. God doesn't care whether I have one pound or one hundred million. God doesn't care if I make a mistake, if I fuck up again and again and again. God asks me 'How are you?' and I just start crying. I try to be quiet but I can hear my sniffs echoing from the stone walls. God says, 'Say something,' and I tell Him that I don't know what to say, and He says, 'Anything you've got.' But I just cry some more. God tells me, 'Everything that happens is making you stronger,' and I want to believe Him but I can't. 'I love you anyway,' He tells me. At least someone does."

"'But the trouble is, while asking for help is always good, it's impossible to keep relying on others to solve your problems for you. There comes a point where you have to help yourself. Believe in yourself.'"

"There is one thing I'm sure of. One thing I know is the right decision now. Not stupid. Not sad. Not pitiful. I'm freeing myself. I'm leaving The Ark."

[officialraylynn]

In every life, in all times

(Original, oc / oc)

Written as a surprise for a friend to cheer her up <3 First-meet human AU of her God of Death and my Goddess of Chaos, who've been shipped together for gosh... 11 years now I think?

Also posted on AO3!

Warnings: References to depression, anxiety, mostly just a bunch of cute wholesome content

Summary: Even Death can be smitten by beauty.

They met on a train.

He had noticed her first. Animated and lively as she chatted to the person beside her, quiet and expressive with her tongue sticking out while she typed away at her phone. She was bubbly and bright, he was quiet and dull. He’d never felt confident enough to approach her even to say ‘hi’, so he admired her from afar and simply hoped she was happy.

Until she stopped smiling.

Not just smiling, but talking to others and animatedly typing on her phone. She became lifeless, her light darkened.

He didn’t have the confidence before to approach her, but now he found that he had the compassion.

“H-Hey.” He cleared his throat and nervously tightened his grip on the strap of his bag. “Is um, th-that seat taken?”

Even though they were dull, her eyes still made his heart skip a beat when they met his. “No.” Halfheartedly she moved her bag closer to herself and gestured to the empty seat. “Fill your boots.”

Hoping he didn’t appear too eager, he sat with his bag settled on his lap, drumming his fingers against it as he looked everywhere but her as he worked up his courage. He’d come this far, part of him wanted to say that it was enough progress for today, but another part of him said that he’d waited too long as it was.

“S-So.” He cleared his throat again and glanced in her direction before nervously staring straight ahead. From the corner of his eye he saw her tilt her head in this direction, and by gods had his face ever felt this warm before? “I um. My name is Dean, and I’ve um, seen you around before.”

“... Venus.” Was he imagining things or did she sound amused? “I’ve seen you around before too.”

“Y-You have?” He didn’t know what to think of that, aside from maybe wanting to flee now that he knew he’d been noticed. “That. That’s cool.” He coughed, then breathed in deeply to steady himself. ‘Come on Dean, you can do this! Just let her know that someone cares!’ “I uh, I’ve noticed that, you’ve seemed k-kind of…”

He trailed off, fingers drumming faster against his bag as if that could settle his nerves. Was this out of line? He just wanted to express concern, but maybe she wouldn’t want that? He’d already started though, would it be weirder if he just stopped now?

“I’ve seemed…?” He glanced over to her and gulped; she had her chin resting in one hand while with the other she gestured for him to ‘go on’. He couldn’t tell what kind of expression she had on her face, but he felt like she was either bored or unimpressed.

“K-Kind of… Sad?” He whispered the last word, and was glad he was still looking at her because otherwise he would have missed the way her eyes widened and the wry smile on her lips, as if to say ‘That obvious huh?’. “A-And I just um, w-wanted to say that…” Here he lost his nerve again and he glanced down at his lap, shoulders scrunching as he huddled in on himself. “I know we d-don’t know each other, b-but… If you w-want anyone to talk to, I wanted to o-offer.”

To his surprise, a hand settled over his and gently wrapped their fingers around his. He jumped and shot his gaze to hers, heart tripping over itself at the small smile on her face, the gentleness of her gaze. “You know…” Her voice was soft, and her hand felt so warm against his. “I think I’d like that.”

Something amazing happened then.

She laughed.

Just a small laugh, but it was a laugh and he felt like he was floating through the clouds with how happy it made him feel.

“I’ve been waiting forever for you to talk to me, by the way~” Wait, what? “I know I don’t look like much right now-” and how wrong she was, because she never stopped being beautiful, “-but I could go for a coffee right now, and I’d love if you came with me.”

Later, neither could remember if the coffee was any good or not, but they made sure to visit the cafe on the day of their first anniversary all the same.

[alexusonfire]

When I read that you want to write for Miss Christie’s Lucifer I came running because girl, I am obsessed. If I may request something: Lucifer and fem!reader have been in a relationship for a while but get into a fight over something that is very important to them both and one of them says something absolutely horrible to the other, but regrets it the moment they do. And they make up and there’s lots of kissing and thigh riding? 👀

Sticks and Stones

Lucifer Morningstar x human!Reader

A/n: Ahhhh thank you so much babes! I am... also obsessed rn 👀 Lotta angst, fluff, bit of good old fashioned smut at the end, Lucifer receiving 🥰 They/them pronouns for Lucifer.

You hadn't meant to say it. You really hadn't. In the heat of the moment, both of your voices echoing loudly off of the dark castle walls as your tempers reached an all time high, it just sort of... slipped out. Awful, terrible, mean, cruel. Flung carelessly between you before you could even grasp what you were saying. It hung there, the hurt immediately written on Lucifer's face. You knew you messed up. You knew you'd pushed too far.

"That was... I shouldn't have..."

The silence was deafening, the stillness of the room suffocating. They did not move, the wheels in their head spinning rapidly as they tried to process your awful, ugly words.

"Lucifer I'm sorry, really..."

You tried to reach out, to pull them to you to soothe and comfort, but they took a small step back, and the few feet between you now felt like miles.

"You may go."

Your heart felt like it had cracked in two with their dismissal. You deserved it, that much was true, and you would never deny them their wishes, but you silently begged them to be able to stay. The turn of their body, shielding them from you with their wings, was answer enough.

You had been dismissed, and that was final.

--

You didn't speak to eachother for two days. Though they were never much for sleeping, they always made sure to stay with you until your eyes closed and your breathing evened out, sometimes even crawling back beside you before you woke. Their absence in the night was most notable, and made your stomach churn and twist until you fell into a restless slumber. On day three you nearly felt you were going mad, at this point hardly even seeing them, merely catching a glimpse through a window or the edge of their wings as they turned a corner. Sometimes, after a few hours had passed with no sign of them at all, you wondered if they'd abandoned you entirely.

You were sat next to the fire on the plush couch in your rooms when their soft voice finally sounded in your ears.

"Did you mean it?"

You turned, eyes wide. They stood in half-shadow, the red silken robe wrapped tight to their figure, their wings pulled forward like a shield once more. Your first instinct was to run into their embrace, but your insult rang through your skull and rooted you to the spot; you weren't sure they wanted you in their arms anymore.

"No."

Though you felt as though you may collapse at any moment, your voice was strong with conviction. You saw their face twitch, the mask of emotionlessness cracking as it always did with you. Slowly they approached you, towering, yet looking smaller than you had ever seen them. Your heart was hammering in your chest, wondering if this was it, if you'd be cast back up to earth to suffer as you surely deserved.

"Promise?"

It was merely a whisper, barely heard among the wails of the underworld. You reached up to took their hands in yours, then gently tugged them down to straddle your lap, a position not often held but one you cherished deeply.

"I promise. I did not mean it. I was too caught up in the heat of everything, I would never mean to hurt you like that my love, I swear it. I'm so sorry."

They cupped your face and wiped away the remaining tears, their own bright blue eyes welling up in the firelight.

"I'm sorry too, my sweet lamb. I should not have been so quick to anger with you. Perhaps we could both work on our communication."

You gave a small smile and nodded your head.

"Perhaps."

Reassured that you were safe in your position in their heart, you leaned up and tentatively pressed your lips to theirs, sighing in relief at once again feeling them against you. They wrapped their hand around the back of your neck, pulling you closer to deepen the kiss. You grasped their hip in one hand, and gently stroked your fingers down the crook of their wing with the other, eliciting a full body shiver and the grinding of their hips down onto your thigh.

"Miss me?"

You smirked up at them, eyebrow quirking at the mock-scowl on their face.

"Be quiet and kiss me."

You gladly obliged, moving your other hand down to their hip, encouraging them to keep moving. They moaned into your mouth, adjusting their position to hit just the right spot. You loved when you could have them like this, needy and wanting. They gripped the back of the couch, steadying themselves to move faster, each roll of their hips stronger than the previous as they rut against you.

"That's it my love, just like that, keep going..."

They groaned as you latched onto their neck, kissing, sucking, biting, licking. Their wings began to shake and flex, a tell-tale sign that they were getting close. You tensed your thigh, and a gutteral moan filled the room as you felt their release coat you, their hands clawing at your shoulders. You helped them ride out their orgasm, placing gentle kisses to their collarbone while they came down. They rested their head on your shoulder, snuggling in despite the semi-awkward angle and size difference.

"I did miss you, you know. Far too much for being in the same vicinity as you."

You smiled and brought your hand up to stroke their hair, kissing their forehead softly before tucking them back into you.

"I missed you too."