#or if its one of those only one door can be open at a time and each door is in a different section

[samaraxmorgan]

Your Roommate Sukuna

“That Time The Heater Broke On Christmas”

Modern no curse AU, Sukuna X Reader

Synopsis: This housing crisis sure is no joke huh? Rent is just too expensive to live alone, so you put out a listing for a roommate and ended up living with none other than the tattooed bad boy Ryomen Sukuna! This is part of a series of drabbles and oneshots showing glimpses into you and Sukuna’s living situation!!

Contains: frenemies to lovers, tooth rotting fluff, mutual pinning

Word Count: 2.44k

Series Masterlist - My Full Masterlist

Christmas is always a hectic time of year, and after spending the last week in an utter state of chaos trying to get all of your friend’s and family’s gifts ordered and in the mail on time, cookies baked and hidden away from your ravenous roommate Sukuna who swears up and down that he doesn’t even like sweets but the ones you make just taste so much better, and staying up until midnight haphazardly taping in messily folded wrapping paper and scribbled “to and from” tags on countless presents, you were more than ready to flop onto your living room couch and pass out.

But you’re just not allowed to have nice things, it seems.

The apartment is freezing cold when you walk in the front door, cool air pinching your skin and the groan of annoyance escaping your throat leaving a puff of white air in its wake. Sukuna left shortly after you did this morning to spend the day with his brothers, and as you rush your way over to the thermostat to turn the heat back on you can’t even begin to fathom why he would bother turning the air off when you were both only gone for the day. Sure, the bills can get expensive, but he’s not seriously that broke… you hope.

But as you push the buttons on the thermostat and the little screen informs you that the air in fact is on, dread rushes through you. A quick call to the landlord ends exactly how you expected it to, sent to voicemail with a cheery little message mentioning that no one will be available until after the holidays.

You may as well just die in here, you think as you sit down on the couch. The cool leather is almost painfully cold, making you flinch when it hits your skin. Silently you contemplate going back to where you spent the whole day; even if there were tons of people and you ended up leaving early because you were dying for some peace, at least it was nice and warm there.

But you push that idea aside, getting back on the train would be a pain, you’d have to trek through the snow again on your way back to the station, you could come up with a million excuses but in the back of your mind there’s this little nagging feeling that you don’t want to admit is the real reason you would rather stay home. You haven’t seen Sukuna all day.

It’s stupid. You know it’s stupid, but you’ve been so busy and even though the two of you live together it feels like you haven’t been able to see him for almost the entire week. And even though you spent the whole day around people you love, you couldn’t wait to come back home to your dickhead roommate.

Obviously you’d rather die than admit that to him, already picturing that trademarked smirk plastered on his tattooed face, but you can’t deny that something about him is charming. He’s smug and sarcastic and cocky and annoying and- you could really go all day to be honest; but then he has those moments where he can take the air right out of your lungs. Sweet, kind little gestures where this big scary bad guy acts like a total gentleman and it makes your heart race.

You doubt you’ll ever understand how he has that hold over you.

The sound of the door creaking open is your only warning before Sukuna steps into the freezing apartment, pink bangs damp and disheveled falling over his forehead and snow clinging to his black leather boots. He shrugs off his coat with a fluid motion, tossing it onto the stair rail as he fixes you with a sharp grin, flashing his canines mischievously.

“Didn’t think you’d actually beat me back here,” he drawls, a sarcastic lilt in his tone, “Guess you couldn’t go a day without missing my charming personality.”

You roll your eyes, breath puffing out in a faint cloud as you speak, “Missed that loud mouth, you mean.”

“Cute.” Although the word is borderline dripping in sarcasm, you still manage to catch the way a smile subtly tugs at the corner of his lips.

“I don’t suppose you’re any good with fixing heaters?” You ask hopefully, Trying to suppress a shiver as you motion toward the uncooperative thermostat.

He raises a brow, kicking off his boots and stepping into the living room, “The fuck do I look like, an HVAC guy? Just call the landlord.”

“I did,” You flop back against the couch with a defeated thump, tossing an arm over your face, “No one can come out ’til tomorrow, holidays or whatever.”

Sukuna could literally hear the frustration in your voice as he plops down next to you on the cold leather couch, “Tragic.” His tone is teasing, but his crimson eyes linger on your shivering form; with an over dramatized huff puffing an icy cloud in the air he muses, “Guess you’ll freeze.”

You briskly rub your hands up and down your arms, a futile attempt to warm yourself up, “And you won't?”

He peers down at you, posture completely relaxed despite the icy air and an unimpressed frown on his face, “I don’t get cold.”

You can’t help but let out a snort at his audacity, “Yeah?” You prop yourself up on your elbows to grin up at him, “Same way you don’t get sick?”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, letting his back sink into the cool leather cushions of the couch, “That was a fluke.”

“Such a big fat liar,” You tease, elbowing his arm. But the playful jab shifts into curiosity when you notice that his skin is actually warm against your frozen fingers. Without hesitation, you wrap your hand around his tattooed wrist, making him flinch and hiss dramatically

“Fucking christ-”

“You were actually serious?” You interrupt, scrambling upright to press your freezing hands into his arms.

“Yes, I was- fuck, stop touching me holy shit.” He swats your hands away, goosebumps forming on his skin, “How the hell have you not died of frostbite? You a fuckin’ reptile or some shit?”

“Are you a living space heater?” You scoot closer to him, grabbing at his forearms in a desperate attempt to warm yourself up.

“Quit grabbin’ me you fucking weirdo,” He stands abruptly, nearly having to yank his arm out of your desperate grip, rolling his eyes at the pitiful groan of disappointment that escapes your throat, “Just- give me a second, hold on.”

You watch pitifully as he jogs up the stairs, the already freezing cold room feeling so much colder without him sitting next to you, even in the mere seconds that he’s gone. It’s almost embarrassing how you came home early to see him, have missed him and his attitude so much, and then god forbid he walks away this cramped little apartment just feels empty. But within less than a minute you can hear his footsteps thumping down the wooden stairs, a large dark red comforter slung over his arm.

He can’t help but chuckle when he sees your eyes light up, gently shaking his head as he tosses the comforter over your head and watches you scramble to wrap yourself up in it, “How long were you home without considering a fuckin’ blanket?”

“Fuck off.” You mumble as you clutch the blanket in your shaking hands; it isn’t exactly warm, still cool to the touch from sitting on his cold bed, but it’s better than nothing. Shivers still run over your skin as you wrap your arms around yourself.

You can feel the cushions shift under Sukuna’s weight when he sits down on the couch. His eyes peer down to your shivering form laying up against his thigh, silently watching you for a moment as if he’s contemplating something. Without saying a word he squeezes up behind you, wedging himself behind you and pressing his chest against your back. His arm snakes over your torso, pulling you flush against him.

Your body grows stiff in surprise, a pink blush rushing to your cheeks, “What… are you doing?”

“What?” he mumbles, resting his chin on top of your head as if this was the most natural thing in the world, “Not allowed to do something nice? Quit complaining.”

You can hear that signature smirk in his voice even without seeing his face, but the warmth radiating from him is undeniable. His arm tightens around your waist to anchor you to him and you could swear that he had heat radiating off of his chest, flooding into your cold skin and seeping through the blanket to chase away the chill that so stubbornly clings to your skin.

Hopefully he can’t hear the way your heart is pounding.

And although you’re grateful for the comforter wrapped around you, you’re silently cursing it for putting a barrier between you and Sukuna. You need more, need him impossibly closer to you, to wrap yourself up in his embrace and tighten your arms around him. You squirm in his grasp to try and free your arms, and an empty cold immediately strikes you when he releases you within a millisecond, parting himself from you and shoving his back into the cushions of the couch.

“Shit, I’m-”

You unintentionally cut him off when you turn around to face him, slinging the deep red comforter over his tensed up body. From this angle you can see his face and he looks… surprised? For the briefest moment you could catch a look of panic in his eyes before he settled, eyes widened and his mouth dropped open into a small oh. As if he wasn’t the one who started this, but he’s silent as his apology is caught in his throat.

You tilt your head down and grip your fingers onto his waist, attempting to pull him back to you, “Why are you all the way over there? Come back.”

It takes him a moment, like he's trying to process what you'd said, before he shifts closer to press his body firmly against yours. You bury your head into the warmth of his chest where you can feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and your thigh finds a comfortable space to slot between his legs. His arms wrap around you again, but this time he holds you closer like he's trying to keep you locked against him, caging you against his strong torso in a way that feels almost possessive.

But it's so nice, the protective hold in his arms feels so warm and comfortable; and not just because of the temperature difference. You'd be lying if you said you'd never imagined yourself wrapped up with him, but never in any of your guilty daydreams did it ever feel so intimate. You and Sukuna have never been quite this close to each other, usually sharing nothing more than passive aggressive elbow jabs while trying to share the bathroom sink in the mornings, or maybe the occasional moment where he'll grab your hand in his when he sees you're about to trip and his touch lingers just a little too long.

But now you’re wrapped up in him, the smell of cologne on his neck embracing your senses with a warm woody scent, the heat of his body dripping onto your skin until your shivers finally come to a stop. Your racing heart slows to a steady pace and you let your eyes fall shut for a while, enjoying the peaceful quiet sounds of his breathing and his steady heartbeat.

The two of you stay like that for what feels like an eternity, the silence broken only by the occasional creak of the old apartment and the distant hum of wind outside. Sukuna’s warmth envelops you completely, seeping into your chilled bones in a way that no blanket ever could.

“Better now?” His voice is low, almost a rumble in his chest, and you feel the vibrations against your cheek where it rests against him.

“Much.” You admit quietly, your breath tickling his neck.

“Good. Maybe now you won’t freeze to death.” He mutters, but there’s no bite to his words. His tone is softer, almost fond, and his hand begins to draw lazy circles over your back.

You glance up at him, his face just inches from yours. His crimson eyes are half-lidded, his usual smirk softened into something gentler. You rarely see him like this, but lately you’ve been witnessing it more and more; he’s relaxed, unguarded. It’s a side of him that’s both unfamiliar and heart-achingly endearing.

“You’re awfully cozy for someone who didn’t want to be touched.” You tease, tilting your head slightly to study his reaction.

He scoffs, his cheeks darkening just enough to make you wonder if he’s blushing, “Yeah, well, I didn’t think you’d be this pathetic about it. Consider it a favor.”

“A favor?” You raise a brow, unable to hide your amused grin.

“Yeah. Don’t get used to it,” he grumbles, though his arm tightens around you ever so slightly.

Despite his words, you can feel the contradiction in the way he holds you, his grip firm and unyielding as if he’s afraid you’ll slip away. And you can’t help but wrap your arms around him tighter, hoping this so called favor doesn’t have to end.

“You’re warm.” You mumble, almost to yourself.

“Don’t get all sentimental on me,” His voice is a low warning, but it lacks any real edge.

You tilt your head up to meet his gaze, and for a moment, neither of you says a word. The air feels heavy, charged with something unspoken yet undeniable. His eyes flicker down to your lips for the briefest second, and your breath catches in your throat.

“You’re staring.” He mumbles, but he doesn’t look away.

“So are you.” You whisper softly.

The tension between you grows, fragile yet electric, until finally, he huffs and shifts his gaze away, breaking the spell, “Go to sleep, idiot. You’ll need it for when the landlord shows up tomorrow.”

Despite the abrupt shift, his tone carries no real harshness, and the arm around your waist stays securely in place. You press your cheek against his chest once more, unable to resist a small smile.

“Fine.” You whisper, closing your eyes and letting yourself relax fully into his warmth.

He doesn’t say anything, but the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your ear is answer enough. Whatever this moment between the two of you is, you’ll take it for now, tucked in his arms as the cold world outside fades away.

A/N: Merry Christmas to those who celebrate!! And thank you to everyone who has been so kind and supportive and patient with me during my writers block <3 I don’t think I’m fully back quite yet but I’ve made massive progress and I’m hopeful that I’ll be writing regularly again soon :) Dividers by @adornedwithlight

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!!

[lunarcrossingart]

"Until you are dead, I can't get married."

The sharp end of a sword tilted towards me as my younger sibling stood in trembled reverence. I had grown a lot bigger since my parents sealed me in this cave, but somehow, he still felt the same to me.

"Can't or won't?" I did my best to let my thundering voice be a soft purr in the cavern. The trinkets I had been given over the years clinked together regardless of how gentle I was. It came with the territory of being a monster.

His eyes held mine and his lip snarled. I gave an airy chuckle as I lifted my head and writhed my slender body. Within a blink he realized that I had blocked his exit. Yet, he never wavered in his footing as he tried to calculate how to reach my head again. It was clear he'd have to climb up my scales to even get that close.

Pitiful, really.

"Brother of mine, you can kill me, but under one condition." I grinned big and toothy. Each fang I had was far sharper than the sword Father and Mother gave him. There was no contest who was to die in our fight.

"You must spend seven days and seven nights with me, live as I live, eat what I eat, and do what I do. As soon as the eighth sun rises, then and only then, will I let you kill me."

"Do you accept?"

"I… Yes. I accept." He lowered his sword and looked at me with disdain. "What will you do first?"

—

I curled the tip of my tale to my chin and tapped the horns growing there softly. To be honest, I hadn't thought this out that far, but an idea found its way to me.

"First, introductions." I lowered my tail to his face and extended it towards him, "I am assuming Father and Mother named you, correct?"

"... Yes." He hesitated but ultimately accepted my 'handshake'. "I am Prince Zmija, second to the throne."

What.

"Second to the throne…?" I tilted my head, "Surely you are the first."

"Well I'm not, you are." He huffed and tossed away my tail. He continued to chatter as I watched the arch of my tail. I didn't want to break another part of my home and flicked it out of sight underneath my unending body. Actually, how long was I now? Surely the size of a small village with how many times I had to coil up in-

"Hey, are you even listening?!" Whoops. I turned my attention back to my brother and shook my head. He gave a light scoff.

"What did Father and Mother call you? Surely, it is more creative than my name."

"Nothing." When I spoke those words, I noticed it didn't hurt to admit that anymore. When there was silence, I assumed the conversation was over, and began to curl up for a nap. I had closed my eyes when he spoke up again.

"Nothing? As in, they named you 'nothing'?" He asked. I heard the shuffle of his feet towards the mouth of the cave. With a heavy sigh, I lifted away what kept him here.

"If you wish to learn my name then you must enter my village. You must do as I do, and introduce yourself to each person. When night falls, I want you back here, so we may eat."

"However," I peeked an eye open, "You must tell me the name of each villager you've met. That way, I know you've done as I asked. Then and only then, will I tell you my name."

"And if I don't?" He asked, a foot already out the 'door'.

"Then I will find you, and I will eat you instead." I closed my eye and yawned. Today was tiring. "Do you accept?"

…

"Yes. I accept."

—

"Brother, I have returned."

I opened my eyes and saw the glow of my stare on the ground. The fire behind my eyes was dimmer than yesterday. That was normal as of late. Soon there would be a thick film over it. I rose again in my small home to meet my younger brother.

"Welcome home." My tongue flicked out and tasted the meat in the air. "Have you brought our meal?"

"Yes." He held the side of a nervous steer. A bag placed over its head and more bags placed onto its back. My brother began to unpack the animal and relieve it from its load.

"And who's to thank for lending you their horse?"

"Lending?" He asked, baffled, "I mean, aren't you eating this animal?"

"No." The hiss in my voice made him jump, "Just because Jan has given it freely to me does not mean I will take it."

"How did you know that Jan gave you this horse?" My brother, Zmija I think, dumped the bags of food onto a woven mat.

"The villagers give me lots of things." I inched closer to him, watching bright fruits and cheese decorate the ground. "To many nice things, honestly."

"This-," Zmija huffed as he unloaded another bag, "This can't be enough for something your size!"

"It's not." I wrapped my tongue around some bread that caught my attention. Gone within a lick. I didn't even know what it tasted like. "But I find I do not need much. Food sits in me longer than it would a human."

"Now, besides Jan, who else provided for us tonight?" I asked, I rooted out the foods that I used to love as a kid, and reminded myself to leave space for Zmija.

He accepted the invitation more readily than I thought. Everyone must have put in a good word for me. As they should. I've given them no reason otherwise.

"Well, there was Ewa who made the bread, and this older person- shit what was his name?" He broke apart pieces of the dried meat, making himself a sandwich. I smiled.

"Was he a short, stocky guy?"

"No, that was Barnaba, this guy was taller. He looks like he could be Ewa's spouse but instead he-"

"Instead, Piotr is her childhood best friend."

"Yes, and Piotr actually likes this man-"

"Don't tell me he's still pining after the Blacksmith."

"Ok, but have you seen the muscles on Mariusz? I get it." He nodded sagely at me as he plucked an nut from the pile. "But you see, Mariusz actually likes this other person-"

I let Zmija talk and tell me about his day. Whenever he would begin to blank on a name, I'd supplement. The town was small and the people frequently visited me. The list was completed before I gobbled up the last pile of provisions.

"Your name." Zmija started, "What did Father and Mother name you?"

I paused, understanding the misunderstanding. Then I ate again once I mulled over my thoughts.

"You were the only one they named, Zmija." I licked away a crumb in my eye, "But I call myself Lindworm. That is the name you will use to return the horse tomorrow morning, and the name that demands all available milk they have to.offer. You are to do what I do and take the milk from the village."

"Do you accept?"

Something thoughtful crossed Zmija's face.

"Yes. I accept."

—

During the night I had expected Zmija to make an attempt on my life. Yet, after the draw of his blade, I only felt the palm of his hand on my snout. Unconsciously, he rubbed the spot.

"... I can't even remember the last time I had company for dinner. Let alone eat with family."

How pitiful.

—

As the cold nears, I've been sleeping more. 

Bits of my day fade in and out like wind against the land. I do not remember when my brother left, but I do recall when he returned. While I could no longer see him, I could taste him and the milk in the air. I lifted my head up and looked at the moving blob.

"Have you returned with the milk?"

"Yes." Zmija's voice hardly echoes in the cave. "The villagers said that they would help me tomorrow… but what are they helping me with, Lindworm?"

"I will tell you, but first you must help me initiate my task."

The blob moved away from the light and I swiveled to keep track of him. The shadows and shapes were too hard to tell apart. I couldn't see what he held in his hands.

"And if I don't?"

He echoed those words again.

"If it is consequences you want, then it is consequences I will give." I lifted my head until it touched the ceiling. The water on the stalactite dripped over my eye and down my chin. I suppose I look rather threatening with clouded eyes as I heard a pot shatter.

"I am to shed my scales. This process can take from three days to five days. You will attend to me for its entirety." 

"With the villagers, you will  bathe me in milk and collect each skin I shed. Once I have shed my seventh skin, then and only then I will divulge what you are helping the villagers with."

"Do you accept?"

There was quiet between us.

"... I need time to think about this."

"If you do not return tonight, then I will find you, and I will eat you instead."

"... Very well then." He responded.

I watched the blob, Zmija, exit through the light.

—

Thousands of tiny needles prick at my consciousness. The sensation was more annoying than painful. I rubbed my face against the cavern wall, but it was smoothed from the years I had lived here. I had considered using the ceiling but that was before my friends started to give me their items to safeguard and keep.

No one really thinks to steal from a thing like me.

Plenty have tried. All have failed.

Now, my father and mother have decided to deal with me in the only way they knew. 

How pitiful.

"Lindworm?" Zmija called from the entrance. More blobs were with him. Their torches bright in the dark night.

"Do you have an answer for me?" I carefully unfurled for my guests. Many villagers were already dowsing the rags in the milk.

"Yes. I accept." I assumed he patted my nose after he said that. "Let's get you cleaned up."

Like clockwork, everyone lined my body with rags full of milk, and let it soak on the weak points of my skin. I had asked Zmija to place the ladden fabric over my eyes and so I could peacefully drift off.

The sharpening of a blade stirred me awake.

"Brother, is that you?"

The whetstone stops…

"Yes."

Huh. 

"Why are you still here? Surely this entire space stinks to the high heavens."

"Well," Zmija drawled, putting the sword down somewhere, "You said to do as you do so… I'm also doing the milk thing."

Something like a laugh escaped my mouth.

"What! We're brothers, right?" Zmija stammered, "Maybe I also have some magic properties too like fertilizer hair! Or something!"

"Ah, they told you?" I asked. No need to mention that I was referring to the villagers.

"Yes, incredible to think your sheds fertilizes acres of land."

"And grows our flowers."

"Huh?"

I felt an itch in my insides. There was an uncomfortable pack of air that was making its way down my throat. I didn't think I would talk about this so soon.

"Are we alone, Zmija?" I tried to taste the air, but all I could smell was spoiled milk.

"Yes."

"Did mother tell you how we were born?"

"... No. She didn't like to talk about it."

"Do you want to know? It will help with what I will ask of you next."

The quiet. He thought a lot.

"Yes. I want to know why you are a person in a monster's skin and I… a monster in a person's skin."

Oh… I hadn't thought about that before. Granted, I didn't realize Zmija had been hurt by our parents too. Knowing what they did to me, I could only imagine the cruelty they had shown to him.

"Monsters don't know they're monsters, they think they're heroes." I shifted to scratch my side against the wall, but my skin hardly moved. "Righteousness is a dangerous thing, Zmija. People will do a lot to feel that way."

He didn't reply so I continued.

"Our parents needed children to inherit the throne but they were barren. Instead of accepting this fact, they continued to look for a way to conceive biological children."

"Mom said she wanted to have kids. It-it wasn't some political plan."

A weak rebuttal.

"If that was true, she would have taken in children who are in need. Plenty of children go without their parents and could use a home. Many of them find their way to me, but you know this."

I shifted my jaw to relieve a tightness there.

"If she wanted children, you and I would have been raised side by side. We weren't. I was locked here instead and now she's sent you to hide her shame. This was never about you or me. This is her story."

I clicked my teeth together, I had rehearsed this many times to whoever lent an ear, but it felt clunky as I explained to my brother. There wasn't enough that I knew that I could give to him as a solid answer. He'd remain hungry to know the whys as much as I starve for them.

"She consumed two bewitched flowers to conceive us. When I came into the world, malshapened and horrid, she was appalled. Believing to have been played for a fool. However, she claims that my form was not her fault. She placed the blame on the old crone who told her about the flowers."

"What happened to the old woman?"

"I wish I knew." A twinge went along my spine. "When she had you, well, you were what she wanted. To her disappointment, I had the birthright, and the entire kingdom already knew of us. She put me here and hoped I died."

"But you didn't."

"I didn't only because people cared for me. I am sure it is the same for you too."

Another quiet, this time I welcomed it.

"So… these flowers make kids like us?"

"I don't know."

A part of my body flipped over but it was far away from where I thought Zmija was.

"Like her, I also eat the flowers too to sustain myself. I have done so for years now. I assume, since I lack a womb, the magic has no vessel to escape to."

"Except in your sheds of skin."

"Yes."

"But no one knows what the flowers do, not even you Lindworm."

…

"What do the flowers look like?"

"One is luscious and the other is withered." I paused, "You'll know them when you see them."

"And you need them?"

"No." A lie.

"But it is the only thing that I can think of to get rid of them." A truth.

…

"I'll get them for you." Zmija decided.

"Thank you, brother." I went to settle in again-

A snap.

I try to lift my head to the sound, but I am too weak. There's a hand on my snout and I smell the oil from Zmija's sword mixed with milk.

"Stay here. I'll go see what that was."

And I did.

With the world quiet and dark, I fell asleep in the cave. A womb that wouldn't ever let me go.

—

Seven skins were gathered from me in five days.

Even with Zmija's help, my body has grown more from the previous years and became more difficult to deal with. My brother had found plenty of use for his blade. Zmija cut deep into the softened layers of dead skin and pulled it apart. With each cut he made, I wondered if he'd 'slip' and see how far his blade would reach on my new skin.

Yet, his hand was steady as always.

I talked to the villagers. Learned what was happening in my friends' lives. Heard good news and bad news. Laughed. Smiled. Told them goodbye in my own way. No one was the wiser.

But I knew that I was to be killed. If not by my brother's hand then by someone elses.

… Zmija never told me if he found anyone that night, but I knew he did. After the stench of milk wafted away, I could smell the meat in the air as this person watched us each night. I wondered why nothing had happened yet.

Finally, at dinner, I decided to break the silence.

"Zmija. I am now weak." I couldn't even eat. "I can no longer leave this place. I am too big. This is why I need you to-"

"I'm not killing you." He stated. "I decided not to a long time ago."

He got up and leaned against my face. His arms spread wide in an attempt to hug me. He pulled away and moved to my line of sight. Sword drawn.

"I'll get those flowers and I'll be back. Then," He paused, an awkward smile to his face, "If you wish, I can take you home with me. Do you accept?"

"No."

The air became stilted between us. He still didn't understand.

"Zmija, this is my home. I would rather marry the next woman I see than ever go back to that place."

Zmija paced and bit his lip. He went through different expressions and thoughts. As if he needed me to say 'yes'. I'd save him the heartache.

"If you do not return the flowers to me, then I will find you and eat you. I expect to see them on our eighth morning tomorrow. Then, and only then, will you be free of me."

He owlishly looked at me and twisted the handle of his blade. Undecided. It's too late to be undecided.

Luckily, I decided a long time ago.

"Go, Zmija." I used the full strength of my voice, or what was left of it. The rumble of it even shook my own innards. When he did not leave, I folded in on myself. My head was tucked out of sight.

I closed my eyes and I slept.

—

The flowers were exactly as Lindworm described them.

One was luscious. The petals were supple and it was adorned with many leaves along its stalk. So many, in fact, the flower tipped over. Even with the burden, the stalk stayed strong, and bent to accommodate itself.

The other was withered. The few petals it had were dry and brittle. The stem was more of a darken twig than a living thing. If you could call it living at all.

I could relate to that one, as my own insides had felt the same for a long time.

There wasn't much time to marvel at the ethereal flowers. I was racing against a clock that I didn't know the pace of. I used my sword as a spade to get the flowers out. I needed to remove the roots and all. Any part of it being left behind could mean anything. Likely, unlucky things, such as what happened to our family.

I caressed the plants close to my chest. The scent of life and decay mixed into a wet musty smell. In all honesty it shouldn't smell good but I found myself taking a deeper breath. A curious thought pulled itself to my attention. One that was hard to argue with as I began to open my mouth.

All that power could be mine.

Instead of the nonmagical, submissive whelp I had been to my parents. They could be scared of me for a change. If I had the power my brother had, then all that suffering I went through would finally be rectified. There could be no more pain if I had an ounce of what Lindworm had.

…

I pulled away.

The action took all my might and made my insides churn to do so. 

My brother had given me the ounce of his life. This past week, I had what Lindworm had. I lived as he lived, ate what he ate, and did what he did. If there was anything I didn't receive from him, it was given to me by his friends.

My mouth felt dry as I looked to the peak where his body laid. I'd been a fool and an idiot to have left him there. My feet carried me before my mind caught up but when it did, I scrambled up the mountainside hoping there was still time. 

I can make amends. I know I can.

—

There, in the dark cave, was a splotch of dark red. 

Something had been dragged through the cave and left its trail by Lindworm's mouth. His eyes were glassy and distant. Zmija darted to his brother's side and fell to his knees.

"No." Zmija reached out to Lindworm's snout but no air left the creature. Zmija tried to open Lindworm's mouth but it took both of his hands to hold open Lindworm's jaws. 

The flowers stayed uselessly outside of his reach.

He sobbed.

He let go and curled up. Crumpled, withered, and filled with remorse. Zmija looked at the flowers and kept hoping they'd whisper some solution to him. A way where they all win and live on.

A curious thought entered his mind and his sobs muffled.

…

"I guess, you will have to eat me then."

Zmija shoved the flowers into his mouth and swallowed them. The rough stalk of the withered was hardly masked by the soft petals of the luscious. It didn't matter. Zmija didn't care.

He pried open Lindworm's jaws and threw himself inside. He pushed himself further and further down Lindworm's throat until he gave up. He curled up again, like a caterpillar waiting to be emulsified in its cocoon. Zmija wondered if this would even work.

How pitiful.

—

The morning came and a stillness was over the land.

The Prince, Zmija, had been eaten by a creature known as the Lindworm. 

The cursed prince.

The kingdom cried with the crown and a public funeral was held in Zmija's honor. The empty casket that rested in the church was filled with fresh flowers. People were encouraged to pay their respects and they brought more flowers for the young prince.

Flowers upon flowers ladden the casket until it spilled onto the floors. When the pews filled with flowers, then people turned to the streets, and so on until there wasn't a single flower left in the kingdom.

The King and Queen held hands as they looked on to their subjects. There wasn't a dry face in the crowd. The thought of Zmija being so missed almost brought a smile to their faces. Even though they had experienced a great tragedy, the kingdom mourned with them.

How lovely.

The Queen approached the railing and waited for a hush over the crowd.

"We appreciate you coming out here today to honor our Prince Zmija. He cared much for us and that is why he set out to do what he did."

She held a breath, and rubbed her thumb against the back of her hand. People kept their gaze on her.

"As you know, we had found a neighboring kingdom to make an alliance with and they sent us over their most beautiful daughter. Unfortunately, they were made aware that Prince Zmija was the second born but not of the cursed condition of the first born."

The Queen patted away tears from her face.

"So, they ask for us to marry her to the Lindworm."

A murmur in the crowd.

"We couldn't in good conscious accept these terms to marry their daughter to a monster. That would be cruel and unusual to put anyone through. So, Prince Zmija decided to put an end to the Lindworm."

"Our knights that we posted nearby had informed us that Prince Zmija had successfully killed the beast at the cost of his own life. I can only blame myself for not stopping him sooner. There are so many things that I want to tell him-."

"Like what?!"

Prince Zmija yelled from the crowd as it parted for him. People gasped and awed at the relatively unscathed Zmija. Flowers decorated his outfit as the residents adorned him in wreaths. The commotion around the young prince was engulfed by silence.

A large… something trailed behind the young prince.

"I think it's an apology." The Lindworm hissed, "Which I will accept, when and only when you step down from the throne."

Despite being cursed into a monster and being banished by your royal parents, you were happy with your life. Your home was peaceful. You always had enough to eat. You even had friends despite your appearance, so yeah your life was great. Your non-cursed sibling's life, on the other hand

[giuseppe-yuki]

come over, baby!

rancher!oscar piastri x city girl!reader

w.c.: 4.3k

warnings: curse words, heavy allusions to sex, a little bit of ooc!oscar

summary: oscar sneaks you onto his family's ranch. it doesn't go as smoothly as he planned.

a/n: merry christmas to those who celebrate! :) i know i haven't uploaded a real fic in a hot sec so i decided to whip this up real quick!

picture credits from pinterest :)

your trusty mini cooper gives a sharp beep as it locks behind you. its taillights flashes bright, causing the branches of the surrounding eucalyptus trees to cast a looming shadow over you and the dusty road. once the lights dim into nothing, you glance around the dark dirt driveway that was apparently the entrance to your boyfriend’s family’s ranch, according to the text from him on your phone.

you let out a sigh- you could have easily been snuggled up in your bed in your college dorm, facetiming him on your phone, but no- he decided that you should become a top secret spy and drive two hours to his conveniently “close” family ranch at 9pm on a tuesday evening and sneak into his bedroom on the first floor because he felt clingy and wanted to see you “in-person.” 

it honestly only took a few “no one will knowwww!” and a sprinkle of “come on, baby, pleaseeeeee i want to see youuu!” until you found yourself tiptoeing down the pitch black driveway towards the looming two story family ranch house that was seemingly where your boyfriend was located for fall break. anything for love, you suppose.

you squint your eyes at your phone’s bright screen depicting a lengthy message depicting exactly where to “break in” under the contact name “osc 💕” . park underneath the line of trees outside the metal gates- check. sneak through the broken fence three posts next to the main gates- check. walk down the dirt road towards the main house- currently doing so. 

the ranch house is stunningly pretty, with a big patio that housed a few well-worn rocking chairs, a spattering of wildflowers all around, and a big oak tree with a tire swing framing the whole thing. if you weren’t currently on a mission to break into the house itself to see your boyfriend, you would have stayed to admire for awhile.

you locate the window that your boyfriend mentioned further down in the text- the second one on the left side of the house without a window screen (he broke it playing cricket when he was 12, he said). bingo. it honestly wasn’t that hard to find, considering it was only one with the lights on on the first floor. 

sliding your phone, the only light source that you had, into your pocket, you curve your fingers underneath the window pane and slowly slide it up, making sure to make zero noise. 

the first thing you see when you maneuver yourself all sneakily through the window of the quaint little ranch house’s first-floor bedroom is decidedly not your boyfriend, with his swoopy brown-gold hair and polite-cat smile. instead, a pretty young woman with brown shoulder length hair, cowboy boots, and a silver belt in one hand stops and gapes at you on her way to exit the room. 

shit. 

“w-w-who are you?” she asks shakily, shuffling around the bed in the middle of the room and extending the silver belt in front of her like a weapon. she gives the air a few experimental slashes as if telling you- back off, i have a weapon.

you start to rethink your decisions. this was oscar’s house…right?

scrambling out of your awkward position sprawled halfway the window, you scoot nervously away from the rather dangerous-looking belt before speaking. 

“er, hi,” you say in the most non-threatening tone you can muster up after breaking and entering what you assume is this random lady’s house at an inappropriate time of night. 

she doesn’t even give you a chance to explain that this was all a misunderstanding before she yanks the door next to her open and gets ready to, most likely, call the police on you. 

however, before she is able to bolt out the door, a familiar boy steps into view in the doorway. 

oscar.

he takes a second to take in the situation- you standing awkwardly like that meme of robert pattinson in the kitchen, and the woman holding out the silver belt towards you in a menacing way- before he jumps into action. 

“okay…hattie- i can explain,” he exclaims to the woman, slamming the door closed behind him. oscar runs up between you and the still-stunned hattie, which you assume is his sister. 

“do not tell mom, but it’s just my girlfriend, okay?” he pleads. then, looking at the belt in hattie’s hand, he wrinkles his brow. “-and is that my belt?”

hattie hides the belt behind her. 

“um…no?”

with a single eyebrow raise from oscar, hattie sighs exasperatedly. 

“fine, yes, it is. i came into your room to get it for my outfit tomorrow when i caught your-” she peers around oscar,  “‘girlfriend’ literally breaking into our house!” 

“okay, pause!” your boyfriend says, scooting over to the left a little bit to block hattie’s view of you next to the wide-open window. “first of all, why would you take my belt without asking? second of all, she is not breaking into the house if i invited her in first, and third, again, please don’t tell mom.” 

hattie stares at her brother for a second, then peers over his shoulder to look at you, before crossing her arms. “al-right. i won’t tell- only if you do my night duty stuff for the ranch and i get to keep the belt.” 

your boyfriend doesn’t even hesitate before spitting a quick “okay, fine” before shoving his sister out of the room. 

“fuck. you. i. am. never. doing. that. again!” you whisper-shout at oscar, repeatedly smacking him with the hoodie you stripped off moments ago. screw his puppy-dog eyes and his oddly cute bunny-rabbit smile- you were never trusting him again. 

he laughs between the soft smacks from your college-logoed hoodie and pulls you towards him on the bed, effectively halting your attacks.  

“come on, baby!” he drawls, wrapping his arms around you. “it’s fine!”

your hoodie is abandoned on the side as he slides you towards him. your head automatically slots into the crook of his neck like it was made to be there, and you practically melt into his warm body, effectively dissolving the bigger part of your embarrassment and anger away. 

even when you purposefully cross your arms and face away from him after the hug, oscar knows he has already won the way from the fact that you still crawl underneath his blankets with him like you both always did in your dorm back at college. 

he prods you with a finger when you both are snuggled half-way in the blankets and you know that you can’t turn around to face him or else he’s going to press kisses to your face and then your “i’m a bit pissed” facade will surely be broken. you stay back-towards him, but then, he pulls out the ultimate weaponized piece of knowledge that he knows: your ticklish spots. oscar jams his fingers into your side, giggling, and pokes you until you have no choice to squirm back towards him. 

the way you wriggle around the bed ends up with you slotted underneath him. oscar gazes down at you, head tilted. you blink back at him slowly, watching how his brown eyes follow your tongue as you lick your chapped lips.

“you know,” he whispers in that lilting australian accent of his, “this is more what i was thinking we could do when i told you to sneak over into my room.”

“yeah?” you say, teasingly. “well, i’ll be glad to recreate whatever you are thinking of.”

a shy grin spreads across his face, and he sits up to strip his old faded sleeping shirt off his body. 

you just about salivate, seeing the sight of what you have seen what seems to be hundreds of times- his slightly muscular chest dotted with a constellation of stars that you loved to trace- either during a soft night curled on your dorm room bed, or when you lay, spent, on his chest after a lust-filled night.

before you can stop yourself, you reach out on instinct to trace your fingernail down his torso.

just a millisecond before your finger makes contact with his skin, footsteps sound outside his shut door, and the doorknob rattles, resulting in both of you to snap your heads towards the sound.

with some unbelievable reaction time that should probably get him a seat in formula 1, oscar shoves you underneath his stupid blue bedspread, and throws a couple comforters over your covered body- just in case.

are. you. joking. 

you were never trusting oscar again. what the hell were you gonna say to his parents if they found you underneath his blankets? there’s no way in hell they were gonna be easily persuaded like his sister was with a simple belt. what were you going to say? 

oh, i’m sorry mrs. piastri, for  breaking into your son’s bedroom at 9pm on a tuesday night because your son was feeling a bit frisky. 

absolutely not. you would rather die. 

instead, you settle for freezing as still as you can underneath the pitch-black insides of oscar’s pile of blankets and wait for what just be your impending doom.

the door squeaks as it opens, and you hear the scuffling of house shoes, then a pause. 

the person entering the room speaks first. 

“oscar.” a pause. “who were you talking to? and what- what are you doing with your shirt off? why are you kind of sweaty?”

you clock it as a female parental-type voice, which confirms your suspicions that- fuck- it’s probably his mother. 

your boyfriend shuffles nervously above you.

“mum, what?? talking? i wasn’t talking to anyone- i was talking to myself! also, you can’t just, like, break into my bedroom!” he exclaims a little too quickly. “you have to, like, knock! that’s an invasion of privacy!”

“wow, okay, calm down, oscar!” the woman’s voice shoots back. “why are you so defensive? i just heard voices, and i thought- maybe someone had broke in?” 

another pause.

“were you having some…” she trails off. “some- special alone time? a bit of oscar’s happy time?”

oscar’s mother’s insinuations hit both you and your boyfriend at the same time, and you can’t help but clap your hand over your mouth to muffle the laugh that was bubbling up in your throat.

your boyfriend lightly kicks you underneath the covers, which you could directly translate to shut up right now.

“special alone..?!” oscar stutters out, outraged. “no, mum, i was not having some special alone time! please! mum, i’m fine!”

“alright, alright,” his mother remarks, defeatedly. 

the scuffling sound heads towards the door, but stills before you can hear the door open. 

“by the way, your sister said that you were going to do her nighttime chores for her. i don’t know what kind of silly deal you guys struck up, but i expect it to be done by tomorrow, okay?” she adds.

“okay, okay, i got it, mum,” oscar replies hastily. 

“okey-dokey. goodnight, oscar!” his mother says brightly, before you hear the tell-tale sound of the door squeaking shut.

after oscar makes sure the door is completely closed and his mother’s footsteps have disappeared from his bedroom, he yanks his blankets off of you. 

the cool air flows over you, and you take a breath of fresh air. even if you only spent three minutes, tops, inside the stuffy blankets, it really felt like forever. you are sure your clothes are all rumpled from being squished underneath all that weight. 

“sorry, sorry, sorry,” your boyfriend repeats, grasping you and pecking a kiss to your cheek each time. “that was not part of the plan.”

“mhm,” you mutter back. you didn’t mind, honestly, you were just glad mrs. piastri didn’t notice the suspiciously college-girl shaped lump on her son’s bed. 

when oscar pulls off of you, he flashes you a devious grin. 

“you wanna..?” 

he uses his head to gesture towards the bed.

under normal circumstances, you would have thrown oscar to the bed and done multiple inappropriate things to him, but alas, 1) his mom coming in kind of killed the mood, 2) how could you, when his poor sister was likely, like, down the hall? and most importantly, 3) oscar had promised to do his sister’s chores, and you weren’t about to get mama piastri angry the next morning.

“oscar…” you say, trailing off. “don’t you have to do your, you know, chores?”

the gleam of mischievousness in your boyfriend’s eyes immediately falls flat, and his lips turn into a slight frown. 

letting out a rather exaggerated sigh, he slumps forward for a second before slinking towards the door. 

“leave my own mother to cockblock me…” he mutters, throwing on a black hoodie and green cap. 

you are about to let out a giggle, and pull him back on the bed for looking so cute being forlorn, but then, you realize, no, you have to be the voice of reason. 

“come on, oscar, i may be a city girl, but it can’t be that bad, right? i’ll be here all night!”

you are met with your boyfriend’s classic blank stare. 

“o-okay…what if…i went with you?” you suggest, reveling in the way that his gaze lights up.

“sneak out of the window, and meet me at the front of the house in 5,” he remarks, giving you a soft smile. 

what you expect to see at the front of the house is oscar with a shovel or whatever ranchers use to do their nightly chores, but instead, oscar waves at you from inside an entire fucking glowing atv. it has two seats, and entire mini flatbed trunk area, and to top it off, a covered clear canopy over the entire thing. and you thought the usual ranchers’ method of transportation was a freaking horse?? oscar’s family must have really modernized. 

you whisper a quick what-the-fuck before launching yourself into the atv next to your boyfriend. he flashes his usual bunny-rabbit smile at you, before fiddling with a few knobs on the front of the control panel. to your surprise, an entire heating unit starts blasting warm air towards you out of absolutely nowhere. 

huh??? when did atvs have heaters?? 

you don’t even have chance to formulate your thoughts before oscar starts revving the atv like he’s a freaking formula car driver and takes off into the darkness. 

even if you knew close to zero about being a rancher, you trail behind oscar to make sure he doesn’t half-ass his chores. the first task is checking the lights, which doesn’t seem too hard. 

your boyfriend basically speedruns around the barn that you arrive at, flicking at seemingly random places to turn on floodlights that surround the area. 

“for ‘safety’ reasons,” he had said when you asked. 

you take the time to do a 360 around the barn, noting the goats that glance at you curiously from their fenced off area outside in the chill night air. 

when oscar finishes sprinting around, he grasps your hand and leads you back towards the atv. 

“alright, back to my room!” he gasps breathlessly, as he starts the atv back up. 

your mind drifts to the poor goats outside. 

“er, oscar- are the goats supposed to be outside? i would think they deserve to be inside the barn, warm and toasty, no?”

your boyfriend freezes, hand halfway to the wheel. it’s obvious the cogs in his mind are turning. you blink at him once, before he groans and twists the key into the ‘off’ position for the atv. 

typically, you knew your boyfriend as someone who was really hard to irritate, but god, this was really doing a number on him.

oscar bolts toward the gated area that you saw earlier, and easily jumps the fence into the goat’s area. you can’t help but watch in wonder as he herds all the stubborn animals towards the barn’s entrance. most of the goats bleat at him once in annoyance before charging into the warmth of indoors, but you see a few stragglers still in the outdoor pen. a giggle bubbles up in your throat as you see a goat purposefully wedge itself between the fence and the water trough- just enough so oscar couldn’t reach him easily- leading to your boyfriend exclaim in frustration. 

it was funny- if you saw the shy, introverted oscar that was typically shown to others at the college that you both went to together, you were sure that they would have never guessed he was the type to get pissy, curse at goats, and shake his fist at the sky like an old grampa in the dark of night. 

while he was busy with the stubborn goat, you take the chance to climb over metal rungs of the fence and venture into the barn. it was quite cozy looking, with a thin layer of straw-like bedding covering the floor, round bales of hay lining the walls, and, of course, bunches of goats milling around. sitting on an overturned bucket, you watch as the cute goats settle down for the night, bleating happily. 

all of the sudden, a baby goat, (a kid, you find out they are called, later) runs up to you and nibbles at your sleeve. it’s quite adorable, the way it shoves its head under your hand, urging you to pet it. you comply, of course. 

it kind of reminds you of the way oscar often shoves his head under your hands during a long night study session. when he was almost at his breaking point, too tired to shove any more vocab words and formulas into his head, he would lie on you and beg for you to thread your hands into his hair and massage his head. oscar would probably go mental if he saw you give the baby goat treatment that was typically reserved for him.

speaking of the devil, the second your hand lands on the baby goat’s head, oscar storms in with the stubborn goat from earlier squished to his chest. half of your boyfriend’s pant leg is soaking wet, and judging from the way his eyes are drawn to the spot where your hand was softly petting the goat’s head, he was not too happy. 

“are you…okay, osc?” you ask, already knowing the answer. 

after gently letting the offending goat back towards its mates, oscar stands like the standing man emoji in front of you.

“i would like to go.” he responds, face completely deadpan. 

although the goats were pretty cute, you would pick oscar every time. lightly scooching away from the baby goat, you stand up and brush off the pieces of straw and dirt that it knocked into your lap. the goat, probably slightly peeved at the fact that you were leaving, decides to do a gravity defying (?) leap at the shelf behind you, which contained a small square block of hay. 

much to your amazement, the goat jumps off your bucket, and lands nicely on the shelf a good meter above you. 

“don’t you fucking dare,” oscar warns behind you, apparently already guessing the goat’s next step. he runs towards underneath the shelf and pushes you behind him, all the while keeping a eye on the goat as it steps closer and closer to the bale of hay.

it bleats, and pushes the hay with its nose.

the block explodes in midair, completely covering oscar.

for the second time in the day night, you fight to cover your laugh. the poor hay-covered oscar was just about trembling in anger. you hurriedly drag him towards the exit, all the while thanking the gods that what you thought was a darling little goat didn’t just squish your boyfriend.

“come on, baby,” you comfort, parroting the words he had said to you earlier in the night back to him. “it’s fine.”

he huffs, twisting the key of the atv, allowing the heater to effectively blast half of the hay on him straight into your face.

“oh my god, baby, are you okay?” oscar says, eyes wide. he quickly turns the heater down and brushes a few strands of hay off of your head. 

you pretend that you didn’t just feel a strand of hay go down your throat. 

“y-yeah, no problem,” you cough out. “we can just um, head back if that’s what you’d like.”

“right,” he affirms, voice going back to monotone. 

the atv rumbles quietly as he navigates back to the house.

trying to lighten up the mood and fill the awkward silence in the small space of the vehicle, oscar attempts to crack the world’s worst joke using his lust-craved brain. 

“after all that fiasco, i think i deserve the world’s best hea-”

before he can finish (hehe get it?), you cut him off, pointing outside to a potentially dangerous situation for his ranch’s chickens. 

“oscar,” you say pointedly, “i don’t want to burst your bubble, but was bringing the chickens in one of your sister’s chores? ‘cause they’re currently flapping around in an outdoor area, and i’m afraid there’s like foxes or something that are going to eat them.”

your boyfriend slams on the brake pedal, and peeks over your shoulder, confirming the worst news in his head right now- there was yet another job to be done. 

he just about flies out the vehicle, and before you know it, he has wedged himself into the chicken coop. if there is an award for the fastest time to shove like, 15 chickens inside the line of nesting boxes, he would definitely win first. it’s kind of an insane sight.  you even hear a few “get the fuck in,” which is decidedly out of character for oscar to ever say.

every chicken actually makes it indoors, and oscar doesn’t hesitate to slam the chicken coop door shut with a loud bang.

you wish you can say the actual ride back to the house isn’t tense, but then, you’d be lying. by the time oscar pulls up to the side of the house where the only window still has its lights on is the second one without a window screen, you can feel each breath that he takes thrumming its way into your core. 

he barely has a chance to shut off the atv before you cast a sly glance towards him. 

“do you wanna-” 

the way his brown eyes glaze over in want does all the answering for you.

all you know is that after spending an undisclosed amount of time inside of the atv fogging up the plastic cover of the vehicle, you both stumbled back through oscar’s stupid little window on the left side of the house, where you continued your little escapade within the confines of his bedroom. 

the first thing you realize when you wake up is oscar’s bare skin underneath yours. you’re tucked underneath his arm, and one of your legs is entwined with his. 

you shift in his arms, tilt your head, and use a little bit of force to launch yourself upwards to press a kiss on his cheek from your position wedged next to him. 

oscar mutters a “mmm,” with his eyes closed, but you can tell from the many times of waking up next to him that he’s obviously awake. 

poking his bare stomach with a finger, you giggle. 

“i know you’re awake, oscar.”

“nuh-uh,” he shoots back, eyes still closed, grasping your offending finger with his hand and holding your arm away from him.

you untuck your other hand from under the blanket, and move to boop his stomach again. 

however, before you are able to, the footsteps come to the door and the doorknob jiggles.

oh. my. fucking. god. not this again.

oscar, like the night before, strategically shoves you under his blankets roughly. 

this time, you wedge yourself in a way where you can see the doorway through a crack in the blankets before the door swings open.

a nice-looking woman with straight brown short hair and a white sweatshirt with big block letters that spell out, “y u k i” walks in. his mom, you suppose. behind her stands the girl you saw the day before, hattie, who has her hand clasped over her mouth, trying to stop her giggles from escaping. 

oscar’s mom speaks first, clasping her hands together. 

“good morning, oscar!” she exclaims, placing her hands on her hips. “did you want some breakfast?”

“er,” your boyfriend says, staying very still. 

then, you see oscar’s mom approaching you. 

she neatly pulls off the part of the blanket covering your head, effectively blinding you from the bright light from the window, while also turning you into the surface of the sun from the way your cheeks heat up from embarrassment of being exposed literally out of nowhere. 

“and maybe your girlfriend would like some breakfast too instead of being shoved underneath your dirty blankets?” 

when oscar doesn’t answer, his mother shakes her head and sighs. “wow, oscar, i thought i taught you better than treating guests this way.”

you wrap oscar’s blankets around you, thanking god that his mother had not decided to yank all the blankets off your entire body.

hattie decides this is the moment that she cannot hold her laugh anymore and flees the doorway. you can still hear her little giggles in the hallway.

your boyfriend stutters out angrily, “b-but hattie promised-”

“no, don’t ‘hattie’ me. she didn’t out you.” his mother states calmly. “i was a teen too, once. do you really think i wouldn’t see the footsteps in the mud? your giggling at 3am? the quite honestly- nasty- handprints on the fogged up atv plastic? also, the quite obvious lump that was on your bed-” 

she shakes her head, wagging a finger at her son.

turning to you, however, she brightens up significantly. “anyways, i don’t blame you a smidgen for oscar’s actions, darling. call me nicole. now, how would you like your toast and eggs?”

a/n: bonus points if you can recognize what movie + scene i referenced when mama piastri walks for the first time 🤭

[mister0ctopus]

apart-mental issues part 2

mini series - jeon jungkook

Pairings: Neighbor JK x Reader

Summary: Just your awkward and embarrassing encounters with your next-door neighbor, Jungkook. This story has three parts.

PART 2 of 3 acceptance is key divas welcome to after hours what can i get ya? cockblock! we should start a podcast handyman buried things avoidance open the door crack mush mush

Ratings: 18+ ONLY! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Warnings: Explicit language, Mature Contents

Au/Genre: Mini Series, Neighbors, Enemies to Lovers, Angst, Smut, Fluff

Word Count: 5.9K

a/n: inspired by when i moved to my new apartment and my next door neighbor wasnt jungkook :(

🐙 Masterlist / AskMe

apart-mental issues part 1 apart-mental issues part 2 apart-mental issues part 3 (wip)

🔑 acceptance is key

You gave up.

You’d stopped wondering why Jungkook always seemed to catch you at your most awkward.

It was like you were that good at embarrassing yourself, and he was that good at being there to witness it.

But his presence felt significant, not just because he always seemed to be there, but because those moments—however embarrassing—had started to feel oddly comforting, like someone silently rooting for you in the background.

Like that one person you never actually spoke to but who consistently likes all your posts?

Whether it was your latest hallway stumble or your random solo commentary about your grocery list, Jungkook was always there.

Watching. Smirking. Shaking his head.

Avoiding him stopped being a thing. You stopped trying.

It got harder to keep a fixed schedule.

Your classes kept switching between in-person lectures and online sessions as you focused on your thesis.

The apartment building turned into a stage for accidental encounters—hallways, the garbage area, the stairs. You’d exchange hellos, quick chats, banters, and fleeting moments that made you feel less…alone.

Today was no different.

You stepped out of your door, balancing your bag and an iced coffee, only to find him locking his door. His hair was still slightly damp, and he was dressed in an oversized white shirt and jeans.

“Morning,” he greeted, his voice low and slightly raspy, like he hadn’t been awake long. His dimple made its familiar appearance when he smiled, and you couldn’t help but let your gaze linger for a few seconds.

“Morning,” you managed to squeak, juggling your bag and fumbling with your keys. Your iced coffee wobbled dangerously in your hand.

You knew he was watching you struggle, but you didn’t know he was biting his lip to hold back a grin.

Finally locking your door and securing your coffee, you shot him a glance. “So, what’s the agenda today? More random appliance repairs for desperate neighbors?”

“Maybe,” he said, chuckling as he stepped beside you. “Depends on how many people I see kicking trash bins today.”

You groaned and covered your face with your hands, realizing he’d seen your meltdown. “Okay, that was one time. And it was a moment of weakness.”

He shrugged, slipping his hands into his jeans’ pockets. “Hey, no biggie. We all have our moments. There’s no shame in that.”

A warm feeling spread through you. Too warm. Too comfortable. You rolled your eyes and waved. “Alright, alright. Bye, Jungkook.”

💃🏻 divas

You had a presentation coming up, and, despite years of experience, the fear of speaking in front of people never quite went away.

The thought of standing in front of your class still made your stomach drop. So, you’d been practicing nonstop, trying to memorize the key points to calm your nerves.

By the time you hit the stairs of your apartment building, you were already in full-on presentation mode.

“Speech, speech, agriculture and resource management, speech, speech, inclusive development for a more equitable world—” you waved your hand dramatically as you climbed.

“And that, my dear friends,” you muttered to yourself, “is why we’re taking economics to... to TAKE THE FREEDOM WE DESERVE!” You raised your fist in the air like you were leading a revolution.

When you reached the top, you finished with a flourish, curtsying as though you’d just wrapped up a Broadway performance. “Why thank you, thank you. No time to prepare—it was all impromptu!”

CLAP, CLAP, CLAP

You froze.

Of course.

Jungkook. Standing at the bottom of the stairs with an amused grin plastered across his face, his eyes sparkling like he'd just witnessed the best performance of a century.

You blinked.

You'd grown used to these perfectly timed encounters with him, but that didn't make them any less embarrassing.

So, without missing a beat, you turned to him, giving a dramatic bow, as if the applause was exactly what you expected. “Thank you, thank you,” you said with an exaggerated flourish, playing along. “I couldn’t have done it without my loyal fans!”

Later that night, you found yourself in his kitchen, sipping tea as Jungkook crouched on the floor, sleeves rolled up, intensely focused on fixing your ancient electric fan.

Yes, it was old, but it was salvageable, and the repair was free in exchange for a cup of tea.

“You know,” you said, watching as he tightened a screw, “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who willingly fixes things for their neighbors. Is this, like, a secret hobby or something?”

He glanced up at you, lips curling into a teasing smile. “Neighbor,” he corrected. “You’re the only one getting this free repair service. And no, not a hobby. I do this at work—electronic appliances, product development, testing… all the boring stuff.”

"Boring?" you echoed, raising an eyebrow. "No way. Not boring at all. Honestly, I think I should be friends with you, just in case. If you haven’t noticed, I’m basically a walking disaster. I could definitely use a repair guy!"

He laughed, setting the screwdriver down. "Hmm, should I start charging?" He leaned back against the counter, looking at you with a smirk. "So, what are you studying?"

“Just wrapping up my bachelor’s in economics,” you said, taking a sip of tea.

“And working too, right?” he added, tilting his head.

“Yup. Waitressing in the meantime,” you replied with a grin. “So, you know, living the dream. Hot stuff.”

His eyes widened slightly, clearly impressed. “Economics? While working? Wow. That’s… wild. And kind of amazing.”

“Yeah, right?” you replied, playfully tucking your hair behind your ear.

Jungkook’s gaze lingered on you a moment longer than necessary before he cleared his throat and turned back to the fan.

The conversation drifted from school to work to random bits of life—your rambling and his chuckles filling the space.

By the time he finished fixing the fan, you realized you’d been standing in his kitchen for over an hour.

🍻 welcome to after hours what can i get ya?

The next day, your shift started like any other at the bustling bar.

It was a casual spot, perfect for after-work crowds and people looking to unwind.

It was also known for its servers—those who “enhanced the customer experience” with short skirts, crop tops, and a whole lot of upbeat energy.

You adjusted your uniform, the cut highlighting your cleavage and legs. The regulars' eyes already followed you, but you'd grown used to it. It was just part of the job.

Balancing a tray of beers and nachos, you navigated the packed floor with practiced ease.

Then, you turned a corner and—

Jungkook?

There he was. Right in the middle of a group of coworkers, laughing at something one of them had said.

For a second, everything froze. His eyes locked onto yours, and his jaw dropped. He quickly grabbed his water glass and brought it to his lips—only to choke when he fully realized who he was looking at.

You’d told him you worked as a server—you just never mentioned where. Did that matter?

“Are you okay?” one of his friends asked, slapping his back as Jungkook coughed.

You? Completely unbothered. Professional. Cool. Totally unaffected by the fact that your cute, laid-back neighbor was sitting there, staring at you like he’d just realized you had boobs. Or a woman. Not the pale, messy-haired, oversized hoodie-wearing mess you were at home.

“Hi, welcome to After Hours,” you said smoothly, pulling out your notepad. “What can I get for you guys?”

Jungkook’s friends rattled off their orders—beer, nachos, the usual—but Jungkook? He stayed silent, eyes still wide, locked on you.

“And you?” You turned to him, giving him a soft smile.

“Uh—just, uh, a burger,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible.

“Fries with that?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, smile never leaving your lips.

“S-sure,” he stammered, those boba eyes wide and a little embarrassed.

“Got it,” you replied, flashing him a full smile. “I’ll be right back with your drinks.” You turned to leave, but you swore you caught him sighing softly as you walked away.

The smirk that crept onto your face was unavoidable. He’d tried to play it cool, but his eyes had lingered just a bit longer. Not that you blamed him. The uniform was designed to get reactions like that, and you knew the effect it had.

Yeah, I look different in my work clothes.

Wait, why are you enjoying this?

When you returned with their beers, you set them down with practiced grace. “Enjoy,” you said, in a rehearsed, flirty voice, flashing another sweet smile before turning to walk away.

As you leave, you heard one of his friends say, “Dude, she’s hot.”

You didn’t catch Jungkook’s reply, but you kept walking. Still, the smirk never quite left your lips.

🍆 cockblock!

The next evening, you were coming home from work, juggling a grocery bag and your tote when you spotted Jungkook ahead of you, walking toward his door. You were about to joke about your brief interaction at the bar the night before, but—

This time, he wasn’t alone.

There she was—tall, gorgeous, and effortlessly stylish. She stood by his door as Jungkook unlocked it, laughing at something he’d said, her hand resting on his arm.

You froze mid-step. Should you keep walking? Turn around? Pretend you’d forgotten something?

Why did you feel so awkward?

Too late. He looked up and saw you.

“Hey,” he greeted casually, flashing you his usual soft smile.

You managed a stiff "hey" in return, offering a tight-lipped smile and a quick nod before bolting to your door like a startled deer.

Inside, you tossed your keys onto the counter, muttering under your breath, “Cute. Whatever. I don’t care.”

But you did.

You stood there, groceries in hand, staring at the counter. What was this feeling?

You couldn’t name it. It lingered, unresolved, like a song stuck in your head but with no tune.

You lay down on your bed, staring at the ceiling, bracing yourself for the night. Part of you half-expected to hear the sounds of his obviously better-than-yours sex life drifting in from next door.

Thin walls.

But the night stayed quiet. Too quiet.

The next morning, you bumped into him on your way to class. He was dressed in sweats and a shirt, his hair slightly tousled like he’d just rolled out of bed, a black plastic trash bag in his hand.

“Morning,” he said, offering that small, easy smile.

You hesitated before blurting out, “Thanks for keeping it quiet last night. As you can see, I had to get up early for class today.”

He blinked, clearly caught off guard, before a grin spread across his face. “Oh, uh... that’s because she didn’t stay long.”

You froze. “Oh…Okay. Well, I hope I didn’t cockblock or anything.”

Jungkook let out a soft laugh, brief but warm. “All good.” His eyes crinkled at the corners, and you swore you felt your stomach flip.

You couldn’t think of anything else to say, so you nodded awkwardly and turned to walk away, silently cursing yourself.

“Hey,” he called after you.

You stopped and turned, heart racing for no reason.

“Yeah?”

“Have a good day.” He shrugged, his smile lingering longer than neccesary.

“You too,” you mumbled before hurrying toward the exit. Your cheeks may or may not have been red.

As you walked away, you realized your hands were gripping the strap of your bag so tightly it hurt.

Stupid Jungkook, with his stupid bunny smile.

🎙️ we should start a podcast

“YOU THINK I WOULDN’T FIND OUT?!” A loud voice, followed by the unmistakable crash of something glass breaking.

You glanced at the time—7:10 am.

The walls of this building might as well be paper.

Groaning, you buried your head in your pillow. You were free today. No classes. No work. Just sleep.

The yelling grew louder, words like “cheater” and “homewrecker” repeatedly thrown around during the heated argument.

Sleep was a lost cause now. You sighed and sat up, glancing at the clock.

By the time you opened your door to investigate the noise, Jungkook was already leaning in his doorway, a mug in hand, grinning like he was watching a reality TV show.

“Good morning!” he said, raising the mug in a mock toast.

“Ugh! They’re still going?” you grumbled, rubbing your eyes as you heard the voices not backing down.

He shook his head, chuckling. “But free entertainment, right?”

You couldn’t help but laugh.

You’d planned to sleep in, but somehow, you ended up in the middle of the hallway with Jungkook, coffee in hand, both of you fully immersed in the commotion.

You’d nod dramatically whenever someone made a solid point, raising your mug like you were cheering them on, and then pull exaggerated faces every time someone threw out a lame argument. Honestly, this was way more entertaining than staying in bed.

A few hours later, you and Jungkook were on your couch, two empty bowls of bibimbap scattered on the coffee table. You were trading theories about the fighting neighbors. Jungkook’s convinced the third party is someone from within the building.

“Jungkook, where are you getting this idea? Only Murders in the Building? You don’t even watch that show!” you groaned. It’s been hours, and he’s still holding on to this theory.

He leaned in, eyes wide with drama. “I swear I saw the guy in the parking lot at 10 pm last week. He was with a blonde lady who looked like the woman from the first floor. Heavy smoker, big hair, dirty blonde? You know her. They whispering.”

“What if they’re just talking? Friendly talk?” you quipped, not buying his theory because of weak evidence.

“In the dark? Behind a car? At 10 pm?!” He was practically jumping off the couch.

“Well, still! They could be just talking.”

“Whispering,” he corrected. “And about what? Hmm? Recipes? Best day to take out the trash? What’s so important to discuss at 10 pm in the dark?”

He was so invested now, his hands gesturing with full animation.

“Okay, okay, calm down, Perez Hilton. Jeez.” You raised your hand, mock surrendering.

He threw his head back, and you both laughed.

“We should start a podcast. Only Gossips in the Building with Jungkook & YN,” he said, his eyes glinting with excitement.

And just like that, your conversation was a whirl of podcast names, wild theories, and dramatic reenactments.

Hours flew by, with no signs of slowing down.

🔧 handyman

The next morning, you barely managed to drag yourself out of bed for your morning online class, splashing water on your face in a half-awake state. As you reached for your laptop, a knock at the door startled you.

Opening it hesitantly, you found Jungkook standing there, a black repair tool box in hand and a soft smile on his lips.

“Good morning!” he said, his voice a little too cheerful.

“Good... morning?” you replied, eyebrows furrowed. You were too groggy to connect why he, was at your door first thing in the morning.

He gestured toward your living room. “So, I noticed your bookshelf yesterday—half-built, just sitting there taking up space, and, well, I figured you’re home for classes this morning, right? Thought I’d finish it.”

Oh. That bookshelf. You cringed internally as you remembered your disastrous DIY attempt. The instructions had seemed so simple… until they weren't. That was three weeks ago.

“Honestly? I could really use your expert services,” you admitted, stepping aside to let him in.

He chuckled and followed you to the living room. Kneeling in front of the half-built bookshelf, he inspected it with a quick glance.

“My services aren’t free anymore,” he said, deadpan.

You gasped in mock offense. “Wow, already monetizing your skills? How much are we talking here?”

“I’m happy with just a cozy cup of coffee,” he said with a playful smirk, not looking up.

You clutched your chest dramatically. “Oh, thank goodness. Something I can actually afford. Guess I should milk this generosity before you raise your rates, kind sir.”

His laugh was low but genuine as you shuffled to the kitchen.

When you returned with the coffee, you handed it to him like it was a prized treasure. “Here you go. Only the finest instant brew.

He accepted the cup with a quiet “thank you” and focused on the instruction manual you’d abandoned weeks ago.

“I’ll be at the dining table for my lec…” You paused mid-sentence, scanning for your bag when you remembered you still needed to put on some lip tint. You couldn't show up looking like a zombie today for an important class.

Jungkook, still waiting for you to finish, simply stared at you, his gaze soft but expectant.

“Oh, sorry,” you mumbled, distracted. “Just remembered I need to look alive for class today.” You quickly began rummaging through your bag as soon as you found it on the couch, your fingers grazing over everything but the lip tint.

“You look perfect no matter what,” he said casually, not missing a beat, his attention already back on the bookshelf.

Your heart skipped a beat, the warmth spreading across your cheeks as his words settled in. You tried to shake it off, your voice a little shakier than usual.

“Lectures starting soon, so… if you need anything, which I highly doubt, just wave me down.”

You didn’t even look at him when you spoke, but his simple compliment hit you harder than you expected, and your stomach fluttered in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

From your seat at the dining table, you caught glimpses of him—his brows furrowed in concentration, an occasional nibble on his lower lip. Every now and then, his eyes flicked toward you, and you could’ve sworn he caught you staring back at him too.

By the time your class wrapped up, Jungkook had not only finished the bookshelf but had also fixed the lamp that he’d switched on yesterday but didn’t work.

As he packed up his tools, you blurted, “I’m so sorry. A cup of coffee isn’t enough for all this work.”

He shrugged, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “It’s fine. I had the time. Besides, I couldn’t just let these things stay broken when they’re easy fixes… they mess with my peace.”

You rolled your eyes. "Okay, Mr. ‘I can fix you’ guy. But still..."

An idea popped into your head, and before you could second-guess it, you walked over to the fridge.

“Hey, so, I made pasta last night... It’s not, like, fancy or anything. I was actually craving japchae but, didn’t have the ingredients, so... pasta. Anyway, um, take this as payment? I mean, if you want... It’s not much, but it’s food, so... yeah.” You hesitated, still unsure about offering your cooking. It wasn’t exactly top chef materiall. You offered the container to him.

His smile widened as he took the container. “Pasta works. Thanks. Wow, honestly, I’m enjoying getting paid more than I thought.”

“Good,” you quipped, opening the door for him. “Maybe we can negotiate a discount next time?”

He chuckled, giving a lazy wave as he stepped out. “See you, YN.”

The next morning, when you opened your door to start your day, a paper bag greeted you. Inside was your container, now filled with japchae, and a note:

“I cooked too much last night. – JK”

⚰️ buried things

Slowly, without meaning to, Jungkook became a constant in your life.

Before you even realized it, you found yourself spending more and more time in each other’s apartments, as if it just... happened.

You slowly started making space for each other in the chaos of your busy lives, finding yourselves yapping away at the end of each exhausting day.

You’d talk about the most random and dumbest things—the mundane happenings in the apartment, his annoying coworker that he’d impersonate to perfection, or your professor, whom you were pretty sure was having an affair with one of the faculty staff.

And you’d end up laughing so hard, you’d be on the floor, tears in your eyes.

He’d fix things for you without you asking or pick up on the little things you’d meant to take care of but forgot.

He’d listen to your mindless ramblings. You’d catch yourself mid-story, realizing you had already told him this a million times before—and you’d apologize. But Jungkook would just look at you, smile, and say, “It’s okay, I like hearing this story. Especially the part where you—“ and he'd lean in, genuinely interested in what you said.

It was like he saw all the tiny messes in your life, both literal and figurative, and took care of them because he wanted to. It was just in his nature.

And somehow, you started feeling more and more comfortable talking to him about everything—those random, unfiltered thoughts that flitted through your mind. You didn’t feel the weight of being judged or the worry of being too weird.

You didn’t even know when it happened, but somewhere along the way, you started really noticing him. It wasn’t just that he was attractive—though, of course, he was—but there was something beyond that.

You noticed little things.

Like, how good he smelled, that subtle hint of fresh laundry mixed with his cologne. Or how he’d touch his ears when he got shy.

And oh, food! The way he got so dramatic about it. When the food was amazing, his face would scrunch up like he was about to start a fight with anyone. It was like he was angry, but also excited, and it was so ridiculously endearing.

But the one thing you couldn’t ignore anymore is the way his eyes lingered on you. Not in a way that felt strange, but in a way that felt like he saw you.

There seemed to be stars in his eyes, and sometimes they lit up even in the dark, appearing brighter when you smiled.

The things you've buried are clawing their way to the surface, and it terrifies you.

It’s been ages since you allowed yourself to truly feel.

How do you face what’s been hidden for so long?

So, you do what’s easiest, what’s most familiar:

🫥 avoidance

You avoided him again.

This is the best course of action.

When you heard his door open, you’d pause mid-step, holding your breath until you were sure he’d gone inside.

If you were in the hallway when he appeared, you’d suddenly remember something you “forgot” in your apartment and make a quick retreat.

Once, you almost tripped over your own shoes in your rush to slam your door shut. Smooth.

"People can only meet you as deeply as they've met themselves."

And you're not ready to meet yourself at the level life is requiring you to be at.

But Jungkook noticed. Of course, he did.

One evening, there was a knock at your door.

🚪open the door

You hesitated before opening the door, uncertainty gnawing at you. Were you ready for this?

When you did open it, there he was—Jungkook, standing with his hands shoved deep in his pockets. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes—his eyes were searching.

“Are you avoiding me?” he asked, blunt as ever, but his tone was gentle, almost hesitant.

“No,” you replied too quickly, the word almost sounding like a question.

He raised an eyebrow. “Then stop pretending you don’t see me in the hallway. Stop shutting the door before I can say hi. Stop avoiding me.”

You winced, retreating into the safety of your living room. He followed, shutting the door quietly behind him. “I’m not—”

“Sure. You’re just too busy, right?” he said, his voice softer but laced with frustration.

You folded your arms defensively. “I am! Work and school are killing me, Jungkook. I barely have time for myself, let alone anyone else.”

Silence hung between you.

When you finally turned back to face him, he sighed softly. Slowly, he stepped closer, his hands still buried in his pockets as if to keep them from reaching out.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, his voice low and steady. “I just… I feel like you’re avoiding me, and I don’t know why, or if I’ve done something wrong. That’s all.”

You shook your head, unsure of how to respond. Confrontation wasn’t your strong suit, and right now, you felt cornered.

"I’m sorry," was all you could manage.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence wasn’t awkward, but it was heavy, charged. His gaze didn’t waver as it traced over your face, as if searching for some hidden clue. Your heart raced beneath the weight of it.

“What?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

“I need to tell you something,” he said, his tone serious but gentle. “But you don’t have to do anything about it, okay? I just... I can’t keep it to myself anymore.”

You froze.

His eyes held that look—like he was about to spill something that had been bottled up for too long.

You’ve never been good with spilled milk. Do you just wipe it up? What if it’s too much to handle?

Can you just leave it and cry? Panic crept in, and you took a step back.

No no no.

“Jungkook—”

“I like you, YN” he said, cutting you off. His voice was steady, but his hands fidgeted with his thumb, betraying the tension in his body. You caught the slight tremble in his fingers as he continued, “A lot. And I know I wasn’t exactly subtle.”

Your breath caught. “I... I don’t know what to say—”

“It’s okay,” he said, his words softer now, warmer. “I just needed to tell you, because it’s been sitting with me for a while. I don’t expect anything from you. There’s no pressure to respond or feel the same way. I just think…you deserve to know how amazing I think you are. That’s all.”

There it was. Spilled.

You stood there, frozen for a moment, as his words settled around you, your mind scrambling for the right words, but none came. His gaze held yours, patient and kind. He took another step forward, his hands reaching up to gently rest on your shoulders.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. As if he read the questions in your head, he added, “It’s okay. You don’t have to figure everything out right now.”

He reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his warm fingers brushing your cheek for just a moment.

You felt a shiver run through you at the softness of his touch and closed your eyes, letting it linger.

“Okay,” you whispered, more to yourself than to him.

“Okay,” he said, his lips curling into the faintest smile.

And for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel rushed.

You didn’t feel like you had to fix anything, clean up the mess, or even apologize for the things you couldn’t face.

It was enough to just be.

🖤 crack

You feel like dying. No seriously.

Achy, feverish, and barely able to breathe through your nose, you debated ignoring the insistent knock at your door. You know it is Jungkook, who else?

You open the door to find Jungkook standing there, his bunny smile all teeth flashing and eyes crinkling. “Hey, I cooked too much last night,” he says, holding up a huge container. But his smile fades into concern when he sees your state—blanket draped over you, eyes red.

“Wait, are you sick?” he asks, placing his hand on your forehead.

“Yeah, I feel like dying. I’m just gonna sleep it off—”

“You need to eat and take medicine,” he cuts you off as he steps inside.

“Jungkook, I’m literally contagious—”

“My immune system is strong, I’m not gonna get sick,” he says confidently, already heading into your kitchen and rummaging through your cabinets like he lives there.

“What are you doing?” you ask, wanting him to leave so you can go back to bed.

“I’m gonna reheat the food so you can take your medicine,” he says, placing the pot on the stove.

“Don’t you have work?”

He waves you off. “I’m not going in. My strong immune system and I are staying here,” he says with a gentle smile.

You groan, leaning against the doorframe of your room. “You’re gonna get sick too!”

“Nah,” he says, stirring the pot with a ladle. “But if I do, you’ll owe me, and I’ll think of something as payment.”

You blink at him, too sick to come up with a sharp reply. “You’re impossible.”

“You’re stubborn. Now, let’s get you to bed while we wait for your food.” He smiles as he gently guides your shoulder toward the bed.

You obey, mostly because you don’t have the energy to fight him, and watch as he moves around your apartment, reheating the soup and fussing over your blanket situation, saying it wasn’t warm enough.

You sleep the entire day, letting the sickness take over, but Jungkook makes sure you eat, stay hydrated, and take your medicine. He checks your temperature every four hours and places a damp cloth on your forehead.

When you woke up in the middle of the night, you found him curled up on the couch. You noticed he had changed from his work clothes this morning into sweatpants and a hoodie, which was now pulled over his head, his face smooshed into a pillow. His legs were bent awkwardly to fit your short couch, and the blanket you’d thrown over him earlier had slipped halfway onto the floor.

You shuffled closer, your socks muffling your steps. "Hey," you whispered, gently nudging his shoulder.

"Hey," he mumbled, blinking up at you groggily. "You okay? Need something?"

"Yeah.” You smiled softly, trying to keep the laugh from escaping at how adorable he looked, all disoriented and sleepy. "You to not sleep on my couch."

He blinked at you in confusion, his sleepy eyes squinting. "What? Why? It's fine—"

"Just come sleep on the bed with me. Please?" you interrupted, your arms instinctively wrapping around yourself to ward off the chill.

He stared at you for a moment, his gaze softening as his lips tugged into the faintest smile. "Are you sure?"

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Yes. Let’s go."

His smile widened, and the dim light from the lamp caught in his eyes, making them sparkle. Slowly, he sat up, picked up the blanket from the floor, and followed you to your room.

The bed creaked slightly as he slid under the covers beside you, keeping a noticeable gap between you both. His movements were careful, as though he was afraid to disturb you more than he already had.

"Don’t steal the blankets," you mumbled, already half-asleep again as you burrowed into your pillow.

"Wouldn’t dream of it," he murmured back, his voice so soft and gentle it felt like a warm blanket of its own.

You felt the faintest brush of his breath as he settled beside you, and the space between you seemed to hum with a comfortable warmth.

You drifted back to sleep with a clogged nose and a full heart.

The next morning, when you woke up feeling more like yourself, Jungkook was gone. But there was a neatly folded note on your nightstand, beside a full water bottle and your medicines neatly arranged.

Take your meds on time, okay? There’s food in the fridge for the whole day. Rest up. I’ll see you tonight. – JK

You sat there, staring at the note, feeling your chest tighten in the best way. Like this tiny piece of paper had power over you. And then, like it was nothing, you felt the corners of your mouth curve into a smile.

When you opened the fridge , you find everything prepped and labeled, you couldn’t help but feel flutters in your stomach.

After eating and taking your medicine, you returned to bed. As you settled under the covers, you heard a crack... but you smiled, because it was just the walls you’d built starting to crumble.

♥️ mush mush

Life with Jungkook had become like a well-worn hoodie—cozy, familiar, and easy. It was a rhythm that felt so natural, you sometimes wondered how you’d survived without it. You’d always thought your schedule, your goals, and that thick wall around your heart left no room for anyone else.

But he didn’t just fit into your life. He expanded it, creating space for you to breathe and for himself to occupy every empty corner you hadn’t realized was there.

You learned his quirky habits, and he learned yours.

His laundry hobby (yes, hobby) was a serious thing to him. Jungkook treated it like a sacred ritual, complete with special detergent and fabric softener combos he swore by. “It’s about the clothes-to-detergent ratio,” he’d explain, holding up his freshly laundered Calvin Klein boxers like a badge.

Meanwhile, you’d start one task—say, doing the dishes—and somehow end up reorganizing your bookshelf because, obviously, that was the logical next step. Jungkook would laugh when he caught you confused, gently nudge you back to the original task, or finish whatever you had left undone.

The cooking thing had become a ritual too. You’d started cooking for each other when time allowed—mostly him, though, because he was always willing to cook. So, on your day off, you decided to surprise him with his favorite dish. When he walked in and saw it, his face lit up, eyes wide with genuine surprise.

“Did you make this for me?” he asked, his voice dripping with surprise, his eyes big and bright.

“No,” you shot back, “It’s for the cute guy right next door.”

“Oh, he’s cute? No, no, he doesn’t want to be called cute. He’s hot, right?” He pouted.

“Yeah,” you replied, taking a bite, “He’s so hot I’m gonna ride his dick someday.”

Jungkook choked—and you couldn’t help but laugh. He looked at you in wide-eyed disbelief, but his smile was already tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Careful, baby.” He smirked. “That’s a very dangerous thing to say.”

You just kept eating like you hadn’t just said something that made your own insides warm. But your bravado faltered when Jungkook leaned closer, his fingers brushing against your lips.

“You’ve got sauce,” he said softly, wiping it away with his thumb. And then—like it was the most casual thing in the world—he brought his thumb to his lips, licking it clean.

The sound he made was enough to make you press your legs together.

Fucking hell.

Of course, you’d had your moments. The intense, messy, make-out sessions that left you breathless and tangled in each other’s arms. But nothing beyond that. Not yet.

Because Jungkook was gentle. Respectful. Even though you could see the hunger in his eyes, he never pushed. Never made you feel like you were anything less than perfect, even with all your hesitations.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want him.

Jesus, have you seen the man? A full-course meal. A body that screams sex, a face that could make anyone write fanfics about him. He could easily be a Calvin Klein model!

But some part of you still felt like crossing that line was final. A seal on something monumental, something with the power to change your world in ways that scared you more than you'd ever admit.

But tonight, as you watched him laugh at your antics and go about his weird little Jungkook ways, you realized something else.

It’s been two months since his confession, and even though he told you he didn’t need an answer, you know deep down that you can’t keep avoiding it.

Jungkook had bared his feelings with such honesty and vulnerability, and even if he insisted he didn’t want a yes or no, you knew better.

Because you knew, deep down, the walls around your heart had fallen…

Crushed, powdered, nothing but dust now.

And as you sat with that realization, you understood something even more profound:

It wasn’t force that shattered them.

It was his gentleness.

2/3

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a/n: hey <3 if you enjoyed this piece, could you let me know what you liked? it helps me understand what kind of writing i’ll focus on in the future. thanks for your kind words, really really made my heart dance holy shit just realized i have a validation kink aaaah! thanks for reading! -🐙

taglist: @goldietigers294 @ericawantstoescape @kyljjk @daskewl

[weemssapphic]

Split in half

Larissa Weems x f!reader

This is a part two to We're not who we used to be set a few months after that fic, from Larissa's POV. It's just as angsty as part one, maybe even worse. It's inspired by the song Stick Season by Noah Kahan. Enjoy 😅

Words: ~1.5k | ao3 link in title

And I love Vermont, but it's the season of the sticks And I saw your mom, she forgot that I existed And it's half my fault, but I just like to play the victim I'll drink alcohol 'til my friends come home for Christmas And I'll dream each night of some version of you That I might not have, but I did not lose Now you're tire tracks and one pair of shoes And I'm split in half, but that'll have to do

-

“Ow - fuck!”

It takes Larissa’s eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness blanketing her quarters. She steadies herself against the little table by the door and squints at the floor as she searches for whatever she’s just tripped over that caused her to ram her hip into the corner of said table. 

Now she remembers - she’d changed her mind about her heels that morning and left the initial pair next to the door. She sighs and kicks off the heels she’s wearing now, leaving them lying haphazardly next to the others.

She walks towards the kitchen, not bothering to turn on the light now that her eyes have adjusted to the darkness. Pain blooms in her hip, growing sharper with each step - she can already feel the deep purple bruise forming across her hip bone. She opens the fridge and stoops down, the bright, fluorescent glow shooting straight through her eyeballs into her already throbbing skull, making her eyes water. The fridge is nearly empty and Larissa groans in frustration as she closes its door and blindly reaches for the cabinets above the stove instead, running her fingertips across the smooth, familiar wood as her eyes adjust again.

Her fingers bump into the little brass handle and she opens the cabinet, pulling out the first bottle she finds. Whiskey. She opens another cabinet and takes out a crystal tumbler, then pads across her quarters to her little balcony, clutching both bottle and tumbler to her chest. 

A chill seeps through her stockings and straight into her bones as she steps outside, and she grits her teeth as she lowers herself onto the oversized pillow she’d taken out here when she first started spending her evenings after work out on the balcony. 

It’s a lot colder tonight than it was those weeks - or has it been months? - ago. Fall is as good as over, the trees barren of their gorgeous red and orange foliage, but winter hasn’t fully started yet either, the first snowfall having yet to make an appearance.

Larissa pours some of the amber liquid into the tumbler, raising it to her lips and tossing it back in one go. It burns her throat and the swift motion smudges her lipstick, not that that matters. It warms her a little from the inside, so she pours herself another.

She supposes she could do something productive, or at least try to distract herself, but there’s not really a point - she can’t read books or watch films or even knit without spending the entire time trying to reign in her wandering thoughts. Even her work is suffering as a result.

She should’ve seen it coming, really, you leaving her. After all, she thinks bitterly, as her thoughts once again hone in on you, she had been rather absent in your marriage. Even when you told her you were moving out, that you were done trying, she could hardly wrap her head around it. Hardly believe it was actually over.

On the day you’d left, she’d woken up to a horribly loud rummaging in the closet. It was a Sunday, and she remembered the pang of irritation that mixed with her confusion, the frustration that you’d woken her early on the only day she ever slept in. She’d remembered readying herself to berate you, tasting the words on her sharp tongue as she’d pushed herself up onto her elbow - the words dying just as quickly as they’d come when her sleep-filled eyes were met with the sight of your half-full suitcase (the big one, the one you used for longer vacations) on the floor in front of the walk-in. 

Between stuffing everything from your underwear to a few framed photos into the suitcase, you’d explained your reasoning rather coolly for someone who usually wore her heart on her sleeve and cried at even comedy films - it had unsettled Larissa to see you so casual about leaving. Perhaps it was due to this that she didn’t say much. She didn’t say any of the things she should have said, any of the things you might’ve hoped she’d say or the things she wishes today that she had said. She’d watched you pack, nodding along to whatever you were saying about divorce lawyers - divorce? - and robotically seeing you to the door. 

Your tires had screeched a bit on your way down the driveway - the sound rings in Larissa’s ear as she tosses back another tumbler of whiskey.

Everything had passed so quickly after that, weeks and months blurring together. She’d signed the divorce papers in what she can, in hindsight, only describe as a fugue-like state, not realizing until much later the full consequences of her actions. And ‘much later’, apparently, translated into ‘too late’.

So I thought that if I piled something good on all my bad That I could cancel out the darkness I inherited from dad No, I am no longer funny, 'cause I miss the way you laugh You once called me forever, now you still can't call me back

One tumbler turns into two turns into three, and then she’s abandoned the glass in favor of drinking straight from the bottle. She pulls her phone out of the pocket of her blazer, scrolling to your contact as if on autopilot and staring at it as if it would suddenly come to life.

You’d forgotten an old pair of sneakers at the back of the closet. She’d told you when you’d stopped by with the divorce papers, and you’d told her to just throw them out.

Just throw them out.

It should be so easy. They’re dirty and they stink and the sole is peeling off on the right one. Every time Larissa sees them, she picks them up and wills herself to walk straight to the trash bin. She picks them up - then puts them right back, next to her own rarely-used running shoes.

Larissa clicks ‘call’. She lifts the phone to her ear as she waits, taking another gulp of whiskey. It doesn’t burn anymore.

Her throat gets tighter with every ring, a thin film of tears beginning to blur her eyes. After a few long minutes, the call goes to your voicemail - which is full - and Larissa’s tears spill over, clinging to her lashes before racing each other down her cheeks.

“Pick up, goddamnit!” she growls, her voice hoarse and wet. She tosses her phone angrily onto the floor beside her, not caring if it gets scratched.

There was a time when you’d have picked up the phone in the middle of a packed movie theater if it was her calling - now she hasn’t been able to get ahold of you since the divorce was finalized. It’s at least half her fault, she supposes, but she’s still angry at you for ignoring her. For leaving her. Even if she seemed intent on driving you away.

It’s getting late. Larissa knows this not because she’s checked the time, or because the moon is already high in the night sky, but because time always manages to slip away from her when she’s sitting out here, and because her ass is numb and her knees hurt from sitting in one position for so long. 

She pushes herself up, a bit shaky on her feet, nearly stumbling then steadying herself against the railing of the balcony. She bends, stumbling again, grabs the whiskey bottle by the neck, fumbles with the tumbler, then makes her way into her quarters, leaving her phone on the floor and the balcony door open behind her. It’s been so drafty in her quarters lately.

The bottle of whiskey is placed on the counter and, as Larissa goes to place the tumbler into the sink to be washed, it slips and shatters, shards of glass flying everywhere. She feels the warmth of her own blood on her finger before she feels the sting of the cut.

“Fuck!” 

A little bit of moonlight is streaming into the kitchen, and Larissa raises her finger into the light and stares at it, watching blood form a large bead on her fingertip, then slowly trickle down towards her hand. She sucks her finger between her lips, trying to stem the flow of blood. The metallic taste mixes with the whiskey on her tongue and, as she stands there in the darkness of her kitchen, she suddenly feels tired, so unbelievably tired.

She wants to call you again. She wants to tell your full voicemail box to go fuck itself, all she wants is to hear your voice. It’s all she wants yet it’s all she can’t do. 

-

And I'm split in half, but that'll have to do

x

Taglist: @alexusonfire @pro-weems-places @kimiinou @imprincipalweemspet @h-doodles @bychrissi @giogwensversion @gela123 @friskyfisher @justcallmelittleone @scream-queenlover @a-queen-and-her-throne @anne-lister @winterfireblond @imgayforwoman69  @fictionalized-lesbian @aemilia19 @milfsloverblog @missdowling @billiedeansbitch @http-sam @saltrage @renravens @opheliauniverse @niceminipotato @thevillagegay @barbarasstar @lilfartbox1 @dovesintherain @fallenbutch @lunala-rose23 @ahauandthesun @thenazwife @m-0-mmy-l-0-ver33 @thesamesweetie @theonefairygodmother @lvinhs @rainbow-hedgehog @daydream-cement @im-a-carnivorous-plant @milfomaniac @ilovetlcc @lesbiahonest24 @wastdstime @gwens0girl @larissa-weems-chokehold @makemyworldworthliving @spacetoaim22 @m1lflov3rrr @nightingalespen @jadewolf22 @autumn-leaves-chasing-breeze @gwens-wife

[the-oblivious-writer]

Oh the Guilt

Sam Carpenter x Reader

One-shot

Summary: no

Warning(s): major character death and mourning/grief

Notes: Based off of this request: hey! i saw your requests are open (i am indeed busting). i was wondering if you’d do some angst with either sam or tara? maybe sam/tara spending the holidays alone because they falsely accused reader of being gf and pushed them away/broke up w them. but it only ended up putting r in danger and leading to their death? love me some good ol angst if you’re up for it! have a great holiday season :)

The Christmas lights blur through her tears as Sam clutches your photo to her chest, fingers trembling against the worn edges. Her apartment feels too quiet, too empty, the silence broken only by the distant sound of people celebrating that makes everything worse. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

Sam stares at your sweater draped over her couch - the soft blue one you always wore when it got cold, the one that still holds traces of your perfume. She doesn't deserve its comfort, but she pulls it on anyway, drowning in fabric and guilt and memory.

"We’re specimens to you, aren’t we?" Sam's voice had cracked like breaking glass, fear masquerading as anger. "I’m not letting Tara get hurt again!"

You'd reached for her, confusion and hurt painting your features. "Sam, please. You know me. I would never-"

"I thought I knew Richie too," she'd snarled, backing away from your touch. "Get out. Get out!”

The door had slammed with such finality. She'd thought she was protecting herself, protecting everyone. Instead, she'd handed you to them gift-wrapped - alone, vulnerable, perfect prey.

By the time Sam realized her mistake, she was cradling your broken body in the rain, red seeping into puddles around you both. Your fingers had weakly brushed her cheek, still trying to comfort her even then.

"Not your fault," you'd whispered, but those words haunt her worse than any ghostface ever could.

Now Tara brings food she doesn't eat, Kirby tries to coax her out, but Sam remains suspended in amber, preserved in the moment she lost you. Your clothes hang in her closet like ghosts. She wears your sweaters to sleep, buries her face in the fabric and pretends she can still feel your warmth.

The Christmas tree in the corner - the one you'd insisted on buying together - stands half-decorated, just as you'd left it. Tinsel dangles like broken promises. The star you'd picked out remains in its box, because finishing it without you feels like accepting you're gone.

Sam traces the words of your last text message: "I love you. We'll talk soon." Her phone screen has cracked from how many times she's dropped it, hands shaking too hard to hold on.

She knows she should let others in. Knows you'd want her to live, to heal, to forgive herself. But every time Tara hugs her or Kirby offers support, it feels like betraying your memory. Like she doesn't deserve comfort after what she did to you.

Sometimes, in the depths of night when the walls feel like they're closing in, Sam swears she can feel you. A whisper of movement in her peripheral vision, the ghost of your touch against her shoulder, the way the air shifts as if accommodating your presence.

"I see you everywhere," she whispers into the darkness, clutching your sweater like a lifeline. "The coffee mug you chipped is still in the cabinet. Your stupid action movies are still in my queue. I can't… I can't delete them."

The apartment creaks, settling into winter's grip, and Sam lets out a broken laugh. "Remember how you used to say these old buildings had character? God, you'd make up stories about the noises - ghosts having dance parties, you said." Her voice catches. "Is that what you're doing now? Dancing without me?"

Sam reaches out, fingers trembling in the empty air where she imagines you might be. "I fucked up. I fucked up so bad. I was so scared of losing everyone that I pushed away the one person who…" She chokes on the words. "The one person who never gave me a reason to doubt them."

The Christmas lights flicker, and for a moment, Sam's heart stops. She's learned to find meaning in these small disturbances, these tiny rebellions against reality. "I know what you'd say. That I need to forgive myself. That I need to let people in." Tears track down her cheeks. "But how can I? How can I when every time I close my eyes, I see you bleeding out in my arms?"

Something shifts in the room - maybe the heating kicking in, maybe something more. The tinsel on the half-decorated tree sways gently. Sam watches it, transfixed. "If you're here… I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. I should have trusted you. Should have protected you. Should have been there when…"

The star for the tree - your star - sits in its box on the coffee table. As Sam watches through tears, a draft from somewhere catches the lid, lifting it slightly. Her breath hitches.

"You want me to finish it, don't you? The tree?" Her laugh is wet, broken. "Always so stubborn about traditions." She reaches for the star with shaking hands. "I don't know if I can. It feels like accepting you're really…"

The room grows impossibly still, as if the very air is holding its breath. Sam could swear she feels the phantom pressure of your hand over hers, guiding her toward the tree. The sensation is so vivid she gasps.

"Okay," she whispers, standing on unsteady legs. "Okay, baby. For you." She clutches the star to her chest, your sweater hanging loose on her frame. "But I'm not ready to let you go. Not yet. Maybe not ever."

As she reaches up to place the star, the Christmas lights seem to glow a little brighter, and for just a moment, Sam swears she can feel your arms around her waist, your chin on her shoulder, just like before. Just like always.

"Stay with me?" she asks the empty room, knowing the answer, dreading the silence. "Even if I don't deserve it?"

The lights flicker once, twice - like a heartbeat, like a promise - and Sam breaks down sobbing, sliding to the floor beneath your half-finished tree, beneath your star, beneath the weight of a love that even death couldn't quite end.

———

A/N: first request filled, ob-la-di (sorry if this sucks, I’m half-asleep)

[angstywaifu]

Secret Relationship - Brennan Sorrengail x Reader Riorson

A/N: You guys seem to really want Brennan in a secret relationship with an older sister of Xaden. I literally have 4 requests for this. So I’m just gonna mash them all together. So for the 4 of you that requested some Brennan with Xaden’s older sister. Enjoy.

Prompts/Requests: Brennan and Xaden older sister who have a relationship while at Basgiath and reunite in Aretia and she finds out he's alive. Xaden walking in on Brennan and his older sister. Warnings: Mentions of death, Fluff and minor smut.

Masterlist | Support Me

Home. I hadn’t been here in so long. But it feels like a day hasn’t passed since I was last here. Thankfully most of the damage from all those years ago has been repaired, only a few spots not looking quite how they use to. Part of me was annoyed Xaden had requested my help and appearances elsewhere, but it needed to be done. And now, after all these years, I was home.

My dragon turns and banks downwards towards the clearing below where a few people await our arrival. I can easily spot Xaden amongst them. Even from here I can tell how much he looks like our father. Gods, I could even mistake him for him if I looked quick enough.

As soon as my dragons feet touch the ground I jump from their back, rushing towards Xaden who is already heading towards me. Immediately he pulls me into his arms and crushes me into a hug. I swear he’d grown again since I’d last saw him. His head easily resting atop my own. So much for being the little brother.

“You need to stop growing. You’re meant to be my little brother.” I joke as I step out of his arms.

He chuckles and shakes his head. “Wait till you see Garrick then.”

I go to respond, but as Garrick’s familiar face appears from behind Xaden i stand their shocked. He’s easily a few inches taller than Xaden. Last time I’d seen Garrick was just before the rebellion had started, and back then he wasn’t that much taller than me. Now I just reached over his shoulder.

“Bloody hell. I’m going to need some heeled boots to stand next to you guys, I don’t like this feeling short thing.” Both of them laughing at me.

”Don’t worry, Xaden’s girlfriend can make you feel tall.” Garrick teases, earning a glare from Xaden.

”Girlfriend? What happened to Cat? Weren’t you engaged to her or something?” Least that was the last I’d heard from Xaden. Though we didn’t really talk about it much.

”Don’t get me started about it.” Xaden says with a sigh. “And she’s not my girlfriend. It’s…. Complicated.”

I shake my head. “What did you do?”

”What didn’t he do.” Garrick jokes before stepping out of Xaden’s reach as he goes to shove him away.

Gods, I’d missed this. I hadn’t been alone while I was away, having a squad of my own who had chosen to pretend to be dead and do anything Xaden and the rebellion needed of us. But nothing beat the feeling of being around the ones you called your family. The ones you loved. The ones you would do anything for. I push down the feeling of sadness that wants to creep its way in. Push down the urge to look over my shoulder at the spot I last saw them that day.

“Come on, let me take you to your room.” Xaden says, ignoring Garrick who is currently chuckling to himself before turning away and walking towards the our home.

I quickly hurry after him despite the fact I know the way without him. We fall into a comfortable silence as we walk together. Neither of us needing to speak as we take in the feeling of being back here together for the first time in a long time.

It was odd walking these halls with Xaden. It felt familiar, but also not at the same time. Last time we both did this we were a lot younger, a lot was different, and a lot more people were alive. The usual commotion of the house no longer there. Least not the commotion I was use to.

Xaden pushes open the door to my bedroom, holding it open for me as I walk past him. Not a single thing had changed. It was exactly as I’d left it. Except for the bed. I’d left it in a mess last time I was here. Hopefully who ever made it had also changed the sheets. I hated to think how gross they’d be after all these years.

“You doing ok?” Xaden asks after a few moments of me walking around the room.

I nod. “I will be. It just feels…. Weird. Being back here I mean. Everything is so different now, but this place still looks the same.”

”You get use to it after a few days. I felt the same when we first got back here properly a few weeks back.” He tells me before a soft knock sounds at the door.

I furrow my brow in confusion, who could be knocking at my door? It can’t be Bodhi, he would have just barged in here, pulling me into one of his hugs, which I had a feeling would be a lot more bone crushing than they use to be the last time I saw him. I hated to think how much he had grown since I’d last seen him if Xaden and Garrick were anything to go by.

”Promise to not get angry.” Xaden says as he looks back at me, as he walks towards the door.

“Why would I-“

My words die on my tongue as Xaden opens the door revealing who had knocked. The same curly auburn hair, shaven on the sides just as I remember. Same amber coloured eyes, now just with a few lines at the edges. Same indent from where his dimple sits when he smiles. All I can do is stand here and look at him.

There’s no fucking way he’s there. I have to be hallucinating. He can’t be here. I watched him die. Watched Naolin try to save him. Watched Naolin kill himself trying to save him. He steps into the room, nodding at Xaden in greeting who nods back as if this is normal. Why is Xaden not shocked like I am? How does Xaden even know him? What the hell is going on?

I’m jolted from my thoughts as Xaden steps out of the room and closes the door behind him, leaving Brennan and I alone for the first time in years. Brennan cautiously walks towards me, almost like he’s approaching a dragon during threshing.

“Hi.” He says as he stops a few feet away from me, fidgeting with his hands ever so slightly.

“Hi? After all these years of making me think you’re dead, all you say is hi?” I say harshly, watching as he swallows nervously.

”I didn’t really know what else to say. How to explain what’s happened.”

”How about starting with how to hell you’re alive?” I snap at him.

”Right, that might be a good place to start.” He says quietly before walking over to the bed and sitting on the edge, resting his arms on his knees as he leans forward and looks down at his hands. “Whatever Naolin did worked. Clearly not straight away, but it worked somehow.”

”Least he didn’t die for nothing.” I add, Brennan nodding in agreement. “Have you been here this whole time?”

Part of me wants him to say no, to make this a little easier. But as I look over at him and meet his gaze I already know the answer.

”Yes. The rebellion took me in, healed me and looked after me. All without knowing who I was. And when you’re brother came back, he put me in a leadership position, help run things while he was at Basgiath.”

All this time Brennan had been the one calling the shots in Xaden’s absence. Keeping everything running while Xaden couldn’t. He’d been the one giving me my orders and updates.

”Lieutenant Colonel Aisereigh. That’s you isn’t it?” I ask, even though I know the answer.

Yet again he nods. I shake my head in disbelief, racking my head for any sign or hint that it was him in those letters. But I know there wasn’t. Otherwise I would have picked up on it. Seen something that hinted it was him.

“Trust me when I say I wanted to tell you.” He says as he stands and walks over to me. “So many times I wanted to give you some sort of hint that would make you realise. But I couldn’t risk it.”

I take a step back and avert my gaze. He’s right. I hate that he’s right. But it doesn’t stop the hurt. The betrayal I’m feeling. Even though there’s a larger part of me that wants to jump into his arms and never let go. Even though it had been years, there was a part of me that could never get over him.

“I get it. I understand.” I say, trying to hide the hurt in my voice.

I gasp as he reaches out and grasps my hand in his and pulls me towards him. I try to pull away but he just grips my hand tighter, his other hand coming to rest on my hip. I keep my eyes lowered, focusing on one of the buttons of his jacket.

“Mo Chroí, look at me. Please.” He pleads as he pulls me closer.

I can’t help but look up at him as he addresses me with the Tyrrish phrase he use to use all those years ago. The same one my father would use when I was little. As my eyes meet his, he smiles down at me, his dimple becoming more obvious at the movement.

“There she is.” He whispers, his hand letting go of mine as he cups my cheek.

I’m not sure what comes over me, but I grasps his jacket in my hands and pull him down to me. His breath hitches, warm against my skin as his face hovers just inches from mine. For a moment, time slows. The sound of our breathing fills the space between us, and I can feel his heartbeat racing beneath the layers of fabric.

He opens his lips, but I silence his words by pressing my lips to his. The world falls away, and all that remains is the heat of the kiss, the way his hands move hesitantly to my waist, then quickly righten as if he’s afraid to let me go. Afraid to lose this moment. I don’t know if this is right, or if I’ll regret this later, but right now, none of it matters. Right now, he’s here and alive, and so am I, and that’s enough.

I loosen my grip on his jacket, reaching up to push the material from his body, Brennan manoeuvring his arms to let the clothing fall to the floor. I feel his eyes on me, his presence commanding every inch of space between us. I can feel the heat radiating from him, an intoxicating warmth that wants to draw me in.

”Are you sure?” His voice is low, husky, and laced with something that feels like both desire and restraint.

I now, swallowing hard, my own voice barely above a whisper as I grasp the bottom of his shirt in my hands. “Yes.”

My heart races as I fumble to pull the material up his torso, Brennan releasing me from his grasp to reach down and pull the fabric from his own body. I don’t know what I expected him to look like, but it wasn’t this. With the material now gone, it reveals the sharp lines and smooth planes of his chest, freckles dotted here and there from training outdoors more than likely.

Brennan reaches out and pushes my jacket from my arms, throwing the clothing to the corner of the room before quickly grabbing my shirt in his hands and pulling it up my body. His lips capture mine again, this time tentative as though testing the waters. But the second I respond, threading my fingers through his hair and pulling him closer, something shifts. The kiss deepens, a fire igniting between us, burning away any common sense or anger I had left.

I push him back towards my bed, Brennan stumbling backwards as his knees hit the edge, grabbing my hips and pulling me into his lap, my legs sitting either side of his as I straddle him. I can feel the heat of his breath against my skin as his lips trail down my jawline, grazing the sensitive spot just below my ear, sending shivers cascading down my spine.

”Gods, I’ve missed you.” He mumbles against my skin as he kisses down my neck causing me to arch into his touch, a moan escaping my lips.

He turns his head back up to me, his lips ghosting over mine as the door to my room swings open.

”You better not have killed my-” Xaden starts as he walks into the room, stopping in his tracks as he sees me straddling Brennan on my bed, both of us half dressed.

Seconds tick by as he just stands there and looks at us as we both stare back.

”Well least you haven’t killed him.” He says with a smirk.

I growl at him before grabbing the closest thing to me, which happens to be a pillow, hurling it towards him as he dodges it with ease as he closes the door behind him, his laughter echoing in the hallway.

”Least you don’t look like you want to murder me anymore.” Brennan mumbles against my jaw as he presses soft kisses along it in an effort to get my attention back to him.

”Don’t push your luck.”

[heylorrain]

"𝒪𝓊𝓇 𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝒴𝓊𝓁𝑒 𝐵𝒶𝓁𝓁" - 𝐋𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 #𝟕

“Are you sure we won't get in trouble for being here?” I asked in a low voice, trying to tiptoe but my heels were making it impossible. 

“Well… No. Maybe?… technically we shouldn't.” Ominis whispered, leading the way through Hogwarts forgotten corridors, his wand being the only source of light around us. 

“Technically? Well that’s comforting” 

Finally, we stumbled upon a partially open wooden door, blackened with age and adorned with floral carvings. Ghosts floated lazily in and out, their laughter echoing off the walls. They wore elegant, puffy dresses reminiscent of medieval times. Ominis ran a hand through his perfectly styled hair, his nerves betraying him as he cleared his throat with a nervous energy. He then extended his arm towards me, a glint of excitement shining in his bright eyes.

"Are you ready?" he asked eagerly, his voice with both confidence and anticipation.

“Wha-here?” I hesitantly took his arm, not fully understanding where he was taking me. But without any further explanation, we descended down a narrow staircase. A ghostly figure appeared before us, its ethereal form nearly translucent against the dim lighting. With a subtle inclination of his head, Ominis signaled for the apparition to part the rich green velvet curtain. As it slid open, it revealed a sight that took my breath away:

Spectrums chatted, danced and swirled to the haunting melodies played by a ghostly orchestra, in the center of what appeared to be, a grand ballroom. The walls were adorned with intricate tapestries depicting eerie scenes and a pale chandelier casted a ghostly glow over the space. In one corner, a large table was set with decaying and rotting food, barely illuminated by flickering ghostly candles.

"Welcome to the Deathday Ballroom," Ominis said proudly, lowering his wand and releasing my arm as I stepped forward, completely mesmerized by the scene before me. My eyes were drawn to a nervous almost trembling ghost, off to the side, mustering up the courage to ask a lady ghost for a dance. I stood there, taking in every detail of this hauntingly beautiful moment. It seemed this ghost had been trying to work up the nerve for quite some time now.

“Do you think she’ll say yes?” Ominis whispered, approaching me from behind.  

“I hope so… he seems so nervous” I giggled. 

"It can be nerve-wracking to ask someone for a dance, you know" Ominis mused with understanding. 

Turning around I realized Gaunt was holding a candle, a real one, and the ghosts had made some room around us. Seeing his intentions I immediately protested:

“I-I’m not much of a dancer… Ominis” I could feel the blush spreading throughout my face, reaching my ears.

“May I be the judge of that tonight?” 

He stretched out his hand. I took it immediately, almost in reflex, mentally scolding myself for being so easily drawn in. With a charming smile, he pulled me closer and proceeded to explain

“If we manage to dance without the candle blowing out that’ll mean we’re- erm- … good dancers indeed” his words almost tripping over each other as he finished the sentence. 

“More likely a sign that you two are destined to be with each other, but sure you can go with the dancing theory too, my friend” A ghost yelled from across the room, his partner playfully punched him on the shoulder, trying to quiet him down. We both chuckled at the interruption, but I couldn't help wondering if there was some truth in those words. 

Ominis made a graceful, sweeping motion with his wand, illuminating the candle and placing it delicately between our hands. The music began to play a hauntingly beautiful melody, signaling the start of our dance. Ominis' steps were precise and deliberate, each movement calculated and elegant as he led me through a simple yet intimate ballad. All around us, I could see every ghost clapping and cheering with excitement. Some even joined us on the dance floor, drawing some attention away from us - a relief for which I silently thanked Merlin.

My eyes darted around nervously, avoiding Ominis' blind gaze at all costs. It was ironic that he couldn't physically see, yet I was terrified of him seeing right through me, exposing all of my insecurities and flaws. Was I dancing terribly? Will our candle burn out? and why did I suddenly care so deeply about the words of that ghost?

“Lorrain, what is it that you are looking for? I’m right here” He finally spoke. I was certain he could sense my nervousness, my breath came out in rapid bursts as we continued to dance inevitably getting closer to each other. 

“I-I’m sorry it’s just…” My words stumble out, no filter left to shield me from his piercing gaze.”The attention, the stares, the dance. Maybe this was a mistake, letting you bring me here”

“Mmm is that so? What is it that unsettles you most?”

“Their eyes on us…on me”

“Close your eyes then.” His simple suggestion seemed so childish to me. 

“What if I close them? They won’t be able to see me?” I mocked, trying to mask my fear.

“Precisely”.

“Really? just like that?” I thought to myself. I followed his advice and closed my eyes tightly shut. In this darkness, I felt strangely safe and vulnerable at once. I gave in to the rhythm, trusting him to guide me. Every step, every turn, was an act of surrender.

Fear still gripped at me as we moved around the room, always on the edge of colliding with something. But I held onto him, feeling a newfound trust and connection. The music picked up pace and my mind screamed for me to open my eyes, but I squeezed them tighter and let out a deep breath. Allowing my body to relax and trust in his lead. And as we continued to dance, our movements became more fluid and synchronized. 

I inched closer to him, feeling the warmth of his shoulder against my cheek, finally relaxing as we continued to swirl, the music almost reaching its ending.

When it finally did, I slightly pulled away, close enough to feel his breath on my skin, my heart still pounding from the thrill of being in his arms.

I peaked with my left eye, seeing the candle still flickering between our hands, a small flame enduring in the darkness. 

“Thank you for guiding me”

“Thank you for trusting me” 

. . .

👉 Huge thanks to @leaping-toadstool-caps for taking the time on doing the Yule Ball dynamic and ofc my @ravenwind-75 for reminding me of it! 😂😅 👉 Hear me out: I know this is not exactly AT the Yule Ball but it happens during it... They said hello, drank a bit of butterbeer and left...hope this still counts! hehehe 🥹

👉 Lorrain was originally created for a Yule Ball oneshot, that eventually became her entire story-lore-background-everything she is now, so this event means a lot. 💓

👉 Have you seen the ghost that is trying to ask another lady ghost for a dance in the game???? they're the cutest! 🥹

👉 The song playing while they danced is this master piece:

👉 Also, Crimson Peak references anyone? 🤲❤️‍🔥

[midnight-mourning]

Liar, Liar (Goose Down Coat on Fire)

Holiday Spirit! au Chapter 1

hehehehehe, HEHEHEHEHE

ahem. here u go, first chapter after much waiting, please enjoy :D

reminder for those that don't know, this is an au for my fic, confused spirit but you don't have to have read it to follow along. Additionally, day 7 of my December requests serves as the prologue for this ^_^

Word Count: 5762

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

There's a clattering sound behind you, making you jump ever so slightly. It's followed by a curse or two and a 'sorry!'. You frown, focusing back in on the gear work on the workbench in front of you. You have to be careful with this, these are delicate after all. One wrong move and you'll lose several hours’ worth of work. 

You adjust the tabletop magnifying glass, and tighten your grip on your tweezers. You're about to add the last thin gear into place—

Another clatter. "Sorry!"

You let out a noise of frustration. "That better not be important or it's coming out of your pay, Petey."

"Of course not, just the cogs we finished manufacturing this morning." Jesse quips, hammering something once or twice. "Not important at all."

"It's not my damn fault they keep slipping! These tongs suck."

Your eye twitches, turning slightly to look back at him. "Then use the other tongs, it's that simple."

"That'd be too easy." Savannah tsks. 

You shake your head, waving your free hand. "I don't have time for this, Ms. Faun's coming by in thirty for her clock and it's not finished yet." You look up to your apprentice, who's sitting to your right, watching you work intently. "Liv, would you mind helping Petey find the other tongs since he's so incapable of doing so?"

She nods, getting up to go over and help. 

"Hey! I'm the one making sure these things spend exactly 10 minutes in the fire."

Jesse scoffs. "Yeah, that's your job. Which, it wouldn't be if you'd hadn't messed up the clockwork with your grubby hands."

They start to bicker and you do your best to tune it out, focusing back on your work. This wasn't your typical gig—again, it was Pete's—but you enjoyed the smaller mechanism work every now and then. It also helped keep food on the table. 

Your crew was of decent size for the operation you had here, being the only smithy and mechanic shop in your village. It needed to be, considering that you were the only one around for miles and miles throughout the mountains. You were fortunate enough to be able to pull business from other nearby villages as well. 

But, as the arguing—and laughter—grows in volume behind you, sometimes you wonder if it's worth it to do something you love so much. Yes, they were your friends. But damn, if they didn't get on your nerves just like siblings sometimes. 

Speaking of, Lisa should be up soon. You should get breakfast ready. 

After a brief moment of clarity to finally finish the missing component of the clock, you set it aside, scribbling a note to Ms. Frau and sitting back with a stretch. You remove your goggles, shoving them up into your hair as you stand. 

You nod to Savannah, who's busy mixing metals as you head to the back door of the shop, into your kitchen and home proper. 

It's quiet back here, only small bits of noise coming through from the forge. Outside you can hear town starting to come to life, waking up as the day begins. You preferred to start earlier and end later so you had more time for your siblings. Additionally, having the shop open earlier meant you could prepare orders well ahead of time before having to worry about someone coming to pick them up. 

You rub your hands together, going over to the stove and checking the fire inside, tossing a log or two on both for heat and cooking purposes. 

As you're filling the kettle for the second time that morning, you hear feet hit the floor upstairs. A few minutes later, a face appears in the doorway, rubbing its bleary eyes. 

"Good morning." You say, walking over to the ice box. "You want bacon and eggs?"

A yawn. "Yeah."

"Go put boots on and check on Getrude then. She's probably hungry."

Lisa nods, shuffling over to the door and putting on boots, you hear the door close a moment later. 

While cooking breakfast, Lisa sits in a chair beside you, legs swinging as she watches you. 

"Those guards were super cool the other day. Do you think we'll see them again?"

You pause a moment, then shake your head. "Probably not up close, they've got duties to attend to and all that. But we might see them around."

"Oh. Okay." Lisa sighs. "But they were soooo fun. Mr. Moon gave us so many rides! And Mr. Sun is so silly."

You chuckle. You'd been surprised to find how good the two had been with your sister and Jack, but you'd been grateful for it. And amused as well, considering their initial hostility in your first encounter. "Yeah, I bet."

You're eating breakfast, Gabe in your lap now that he's awake, when you hear a commotion coming from the shop. 

Suddenly, your forge tender, Tyler, bursts through the door. Covered in ash and soot, he points a gloved hand behind him, out of breath. "They uh, need you in the main shop, broski."

You stand up, adjusting Gabe to sit on your hip. "What's wrong?"

"Better you see for yourself. That uh, purple rabbit's here, what's his name?"

Your brow furrows, but you make your way over to the door. "What would Bon need this early?"

Tyler shrugs. 

You walk back into your shop, your brother gnawing on part of an apple, where you see one of your neighbors, Bon, standing near the entrance. He locks on to you when you enter, concerned look in his eyes. 

"Everything okay Bon?" You ask as you make it over to him, nodding to Jesse and Pete that it's fine and they don't need to hold him back any longer. They nod in turn, going back to work. 

"There you are, sorry to be bugging you. And for making a scene." He winces, then shakes his head. "Listen, I've been seeing animatronics coming and going from here like crazy the past few days. What's going on?"

You cringe yourself. "It's a bit of a story, one that I'm not really too sure on myself. How long you got?"

Since the beginning of the festival a few days ago, you'd had a rather strange increase in clients. Specifically of the mechanical kind. Granted, you were used to taking care of animatronics, several lived in your village and the throughout kingdom as a whole. But this number of different clients every, single, day, was unheard of. 

Sure, it could be that because they were here on guard duty, many had decided to get a tune up or the likes and since your shop was the only option close by, took advantage of that. But the work you'd been doing lately wasn't routine maintenance. It was repairs.

Lots, and lots, of repairs. 

Not minor ones, either. You were replacing entire body parts in some cases. All of them guards, all of them coming from the castle. You had at least six or seven cases a day. 

It didn't make any sense. You doubted it was caused by the humans around. There was no ill will between man and machine in this day and age. So they had to be happening some other way. You'd tried asking directly, but never got a response on the matter. Given that most of your clients were the wide-eyed G.U.A.R.D. bots, this made sense. You honestly weren't sure if they were able to say much more than basic conversation topics. 

But the others you'd had, like the pink and white bear bot, or the fox, they just, avoided the topic. Skirting around it with a laugh or a quick quip. 

It made you uneasy to put it plainly. You couldn't wrap your head around it. It wasn't exactly a bad thing for you, it meant business was booming. Like the equivalent of a gold rush for you and your crew, holiday bonuses and the likes. 

But still, the idea that something more was going on was nagging at you, and you couldn't help the gnawing thought at the back of your mind that something really wrong was happening. 

You explain only part of this to Bon, not wanting to sound like a loon because of some hay brained passing suspicion. Maybe things will calm down today, and it'll just have been a weird fluke of coincidences. 

When you're finished, Bon nods his head thoughtfully. 

"Just like I thought." He shakes his head, looking to you. "Thank you, I suppose the only thing left to say is congratulations on the business."

You laugh, slightly awkward. "Yeah, thanks."

Bon heads to leave, then stops, turning to you. "And hey, out of curiosity. There hasn't been any blue rabbits that've come through right? Taller than me, maybe with an earring?"

"There was one blue rabbit." You say, thinking back, "But he was much smaller than you. Bright red cheeks. Why do you ask?"

Bon waves his hand. "No reason. I've seen him around, is all. Was curious. Have a good one!"

"You too!" You call after him, then frown. 

Surely it's just a coincidence that Bon's noticed the strangeness of this, right? You shake your head. No use worrying over something that's quite literally benefitting you. You let it go, and after a brief chat with your crew, head to go finish breakfast and send Lisa off to school.

Sure enough, you have several more animatronics come in before lunch, and many more that come in after. It's a busy day once more, and you have to shoo away that feeling in your gut by rattling your coin pouch several times as you walk through town later on in the day. 

Everything is bustling because of the festival, people you know and you don't passing you by as you walk along. You'd left Jesse in charge to finish out the day, deciding you needed to run some errands today. 

With the influx of money coming in, you'd decided you'd treat your siblings to some nicer meals for a least a few nights to celebrate. You also needed to get Lisa a new coat, maybe check in on your supplies you'd ordered from Lizzy because of all your new clients and there was also—

Your brother's delighted giggling interrupts your train of thoughts. Assuming some passerby must have entertained him, you keep moving forward. Another loud giggle and now your confused. 

You turn slightly to try and spy who or what behind you is exciting him, not seeing able to directly notice anyone. You shrug, giving up and about to step forward when. 

You halt, a red and blue torso blocking your view. A white and blue visage comes into your view. 

"Hello there, Andromeda."

You blink. "Oh, hello again, Moon. Fancy seeing you again."

"The same to you." He nods, then stands straight. "Are you enjoying the festival?"

You scoff, raising this paper in your hand with your to do list. "Hardly. I have things to do. Unlike the tourists, my job doesn't stop for the holidays."

"What a pity, and it's the nicest weather we've had so far."

You start walking again, Moon falling in step beside you. "No kidding. But, that's life. Maybe I'll take Lisa to one of the plays later, as a treat."

"I think that would be an excellent idea, personally." Out of the corner of your eye you catch him wiggling his finger at Gabriel, who giggles and claps his hands. 

You review your list, deciding to tackle the market first and foremost. "And what about you? What are you up to today?"

"Protecting civilians of course. What does it look like?" He teases. 

You snort. "Like you're chatting with civilians. No offense."

"None taken. I suppose."

The crowd thins only slightly upon entrance into the market. Nobles and the likes have no need to visit where the commoner's shop for food and the likes, unless they wished to gawk, that is. Moon sticks with you, chatting as you go stall to stall gathering groceries. Even offering to carry things for you, which, you're not one to turn down a bit of free help. 

You're examining some fresh fish when a thought occurs to you to finally ask. "Where's that partner of yours? The sunny one."

Moon pauses for a moment, then he chuckles, grin widening slightly. "Busy."

"Hm. Fair enough."

After the market, Moon continues to stick with you, playing the role of your helper quite well. 

You manage to knock out most of your list an hour quicker than you expected. So, you decide to take a break, heading to the bakery to grab a snack. 

You're sitting out at one of the tables, watching as across the square there's a bit of dancing and such taking place. Gabe's sitting on the table, nibbling on a bit of cookie you'd allowed him. 

It really is a nice day, the Sun is warm against the cold air. The music from across the square flits all around you, the chattering of people mixing in between. 

You take a bite of your scone. "Could I ask you a bit of a weird question?"

"Weird how?" Moon asks, but his tone is cheeky.

You shake your head. "I guess forward is the better word. But anyway, there's been a bit of an increase in customers in my shop the past few days."

"Remind me what it is you do?" He lifts his hand to twiddle his fingers above Gabe's head, chin resting in his other hand.

"Smithy, technician, tinkerer, what have you,"—you chomp down again—"Only one around, and that's been made very clear to me. Everyday I've had several animatronics come in, all banged up and bruised. Well, not bruised but you get the point. And I can't make hide nor hair of it."

You hear a click or two to your left. "And you think I might know?"

"Well, I assumed so, I don't know all the royal guard castle stuff works." You wave your hand. "Forgive me, I was just curious I guess."

No response. You glance over for a moment. Moon's eyes are narrowed, grin seeming, strained. But he's not looking at you, not seeming to be looking at anything in particular at all. 

Gabriel sneezes, and that seems to pull him out of it. You see the small, white pupils he sometimes has flick to you for a moment. 

"If I were you, I wouldn't worry so much about things like that."

You nod, smiling once. "Yeah, you're right." 

On the inside though? You're so, incredibly, suspicious. You know better than to let that show, however. While you've been cordial all day, you two don't know each other beyond the base conversations you've shared. 

And you know all too well the costs of trusting a stranger.

"Odd choice of a necklace charm." Moon interrupts your thoughts. 

You realize that you've been fiddling with it. "Huh? Oh, yeah." You tuck it back into your shirt. "Gift from a friend."

He nods, sitting back. "Must have been a good one."

"Something like that."

Despite your best efforts—and the extra set of hands—you still managed to forget a few things on your list. Forcing you to once again face the festival crowds the next day. 

Things aren't any slower than before, but by now your crew has fallen into the routine to be able to manage without you for a few hours. They've also been trying to force you to go more, somehow knowing that you'd be hunkered down doing repairs until your hands hurt otherwise. Which, you'd already done at least three days in a row now. 

So, you'll take the break, and use it as an opportunity to finish your list and maybe plan out some gifts for the upcoming holiday. 

It's a bit colder today, not nearly as sunny out. Still just as busy though. It's a bit harder to navigate, but you manage. 

For the most part. 

While walking through the shopping district, someone bumps into you. Not wanting to cause a scene, you apologize. 

The person huffs, and looking over you can tell by their dress they're upper class types. The woman snaps open her fan, eyes clearing showing her disdain. "How rude."

"You should watch where you're going." The man, you're guessing her husband, adds. 

You put your hands up. "Apologies. Won't happen again."

"Can't even be bothered to give a proper apology?" The man asks, stepping forward. Causing you to step back. People are starting to watch now. Of course, the one time you come to the nicer part of town and you manage to make a scene. It wasn't even your fault! She bumped into you. 

You keep your voice even to hide your irritation, and minor fear. "Again, I apologize. I really didn't mean anything by it."

"Sure you didn't,"—he scoffs, pointing a finger at you and again stepping closer—"You should consider it fortunate that—"

He doesn't get to finish, a large shadow obstructing your view of him. Taking a moment to adjust your vision, you see the back of a red coat, and glancing upwards, find the back of a seven-rayed head. 

Sun glances briefly back at you a moment before focusing on the man in front of him. 

"What seems to be the trouble here?" He asks. 

The man tsks. "They bumped into my lovely wife and couldn't even muster up an apology! The nerve of these commoners, I swear." He looks around Sun and points to you. "I want them fined at minimum, and a night in the jail unless they can give us a reason to forgive them."

"Is that so?" Sun turns to look at you, you duck your head, face burning. 

This was ridiculous. You'd heard stories of some stuck up nobles out there, and you knew better than to believe they were all like this, but still. You just hope this will be quick, and that the fine is a small one. 

There's a click or two above you. "Well, from what I saw, sir, your wife bumped into them."

You freeze, eyes wide as you look up to the bot, who's now staring down the man with a strained smile. 

"So, therefore, she should be the one apologizing,"—Sun suddenly bends down to be the same height as the couple, and they both jump back slightly. Sun tilts his head with a click—"Don't you think?"

The man blusters for a moment. "I, well I, that—" He shakes his head, adjusting his coat, angry, but relenting. "I suppose so."

Sun claps his hands, standing upright. "Very good then! Well, ma'am?" He turns his attention to her. 

You peek out a bit further from behind Sun, unable to smother the smirk on your lips. She seems just flustered and defeated as her husband. 

She doesn't look you in the eye as she mumbles out—"My apologies."

"Is that satisfactory for you?"

Your realize Sun's talking to you. You nod, not wanting to drag this out any further, you're still in shock that it's happening this way and that you're not being carted off the jail. "Yes, thank you for apologizing."

After another hushed exchange, the couple storm off, and you relax finally as the street returns to normal. 

You notice you still have a shadow on you. Glancing up, you see Sun staring down at you. 

"Thank you. Very much so." You start to walk off then. "I won't keep you, have a good day—woah!"

You're stopped by a firm hand on your shoulder. You trace it up to the sunny guard's narrowed gaze. 

"It was only by chance I was nearby. That could have gone very differently for you, Icarus." You hear a few sharp clicks emit from him.

You stare at each other a moment before you relax, rolling your eyes with a huff. "Yeah, I know. And again, I'm grateful for the help, but I have things to do. So let go or tag along for the ride. Keep in mind though, I'm only strong enough to carry Gabe."

"Very well then,"—his hand shifts from your shoulder to your arm interlocking with yours—"Let's get to it."

You glance at the hold a moment, then scoff. "Alright. Fair warning, I will make you carry stuff."

The two of you start to travel down the street, your first stop is the coat shop.

"I'll consider it."

"Hah! Witty aren't you?" You ask. 

Sun doesn't answer, eyes crinkling as he smile widens a tinge. 

Much like how Moon accompanied you yesterday, Sun does the same. Though, he has a bit more direct commentary on your shopping choices. Specifically critique. He seems to love to critique you. 

It wears you down quickly, and by the end of the trip you've thrown all common courtesy to the wind and bicker with him like you would anyone else you know. 

"I still believe you'd be better off purchasing something with goose down instead." 

You scoff as you exit the shop, bell clinking above you. "And for the last time, I've told you that Lisa would destroy a goose down coat in a matter of hours. It'd be wasted on her." You shove the brown parcel into his arms. "Sheep's wool is just fine."

"Perhaps you should teach her to take better care of her things." He takes the package, adding it to the others in his hold. 

You laugh. "You ever try to tell an eight year old what to do? They're not great listeners." You check the time, seeing that it's time to go pick her up from school. "Speaking of, I need to go grab her. Let's run this back home and then you're free to get out of my hair."

"Wouldn't it be easier on you to just retrieve her directly?" He asks.

"Yeah, but it'd be more work on you. And I figured you'd be tired of me by now." You shrug. "Besides, don't you have a job to do?"

Sun looks down to you, rays flicking back and forth. Then he tsks. "Tell me which way the school is before I start walking a random direction."

"I—okay. This way." 

He speaks again after a moment. "Your errands today weren't dissimilar to my patrol route, and after your little mishap earlier, I'd rather keep an eye on you myself."

"Make sure I'm not causing any trouble for the rich folk?" You simper. 

Sun laughs, it's surprisingly light. "On the contrary, I believe they'd cause you trouble."

"Oh."

"Though, yes, you'd probably somehow make it worse." He finishes. 

Your eyes narrow. "You know, I think I don't really like you."

"The feeling's mutual, Bright Eyes."

Lisa's waiting for you on the steps when you arrive, chatting away with a few of her friends. When she sees you she beams, waving. When she sees Sun her eyes light up, rushing over to tackle him with a hug. 

"Mr. Sun! What are you doing here?" She looks up to him. "They said I'd never ever see you again!"

You huff. "No, I said you probably wouldn't—"

"Well, they were surely mistaken then, weren't they?" Sun shifts all the items he's carrying to one hand, reaching down to ruffle Lisa's hair. 

She giggles. "Yeah, they're such a liar!"

"I did not lie!"

Sun walks you back to your home, and you thank him again for his help. 

Color you surprised—and suspicious—when over the next week or so either one or both of the celestial guards decide to accompany you on your walks to and from getting Lisa from school. Entertaining her or Gabriel while chatting idly with you. 

They also always seem to find you while you're out and about, which had been more frequent with all the repairs you'd been doing. You've gotten to the point where you've had to completely restock some days. You've even brought Tyler out from the back to help in the main shop, you're that desperate. 

Regardless of that, you can't help the sense of concern that's eating away at you. This doesn't make sense. What could be causing this amount of damage to these animatronics? Why won't they tell you what's happening to them? What exactly is going on up in that castle that no one seems to be noticing besides you?

As for Sun and Moon, you can't get a read on them either. You're not stupid, there's a reason they're essentially tailing you. And you know they're not foolish either. The three of you are just skirting around the massive elephant in the room. 

But, you can't deny, besides that, you've enjoyed the companionship as of late. Besides your crew you weren't much for talking to people. It was, unfortunately, undeniably good for you that they wouldn't leave you be. 

To a point, that is. 

You're mulling all this over again as the parade goes on in front of you. Abby's standing to your right with her brother, Lisa's in front of you. While trying to keep a calm demeanor, you know deep down you're both concerned about letting either child out of your sight. And not just because of what happened a little over a week ago. 

A child went missing last night. 

The butcher from down the road's daughter, his wife was going up and down the street sobbing. You were part of one of the search parties that went looking for her, not even a sign of her turning up in or out of town. The dogs weren't able to catch her scent. Just laid down on the ground, paws over their whining snouts. 

It sent a shock through the community, especially you. This was your biggest fear, all but confirmed. But, you kept that to yourself, the last thing that was needed was more panic. 

You yawn, you'd searched for hours, well into the night, and were exhausted because of it. Your grip on Lisa's shoulder tightens. Still, if that had been her—you shake her head. You'd do anything to find her, that's for sure. 

At the very least, your back is glad that you decided to leave Gabe at home today. Savannah's sister happened to be around and offered to sit for you, meaning you could just focus on your sister today. Which, given her troublemaker attitude, was a good thing. 

The precession grows more elaborate and the crowd's volume increases. It shifts from simple dancers and musicians to elaborate contortionists and stilt walkers. You spy a few animatronics within the mix, in particular a white and pink fox and a ballerina-like bot that catch your eye. 

It's not until the marching soldiers however that you really pay attention however. As while you do spy several familiar machines among the rows—including Sun & Moon—from their time in your shop, it's one of the human guards that makes you perk up. 

And unfortunately, so does Lisa.

"Hey! That's Miss Bri!" She exclaims, jumping up and down. 

You can't stop the grin that splits your face. "You're right, Lis. It is her."

"Miss Bri! Miss Bri it's me!" Your sister shouts, arm waving wildly. 

People around you start shooting looks and you mumble a few 'sorries' in response. You try shushing your sister. "Quiet down, Lisa. We'll try to talk to her after the parade. Look, there's the royal family." You point to the carriage they're riding in, but Lisa could care less. 

She blows a raspberry. "Who cares about some old king and his kids. I wanna see Miss Bri!"

You cringe at the offended gasps around you. 

"Teach that girl some respect." Someone comments beside you. 

You turn half-shrugging and trying not to get overwhelmed. "She's eight, can yah really blame her?"

Taking your hands off Lisa for even a second was a mistake. Everything happens all at once. 

There's a shot that rings out in the back of the precession where the king is, causing a disruption in the crowd and people to scream. In the commotion, Lisa takes her chance to break out of your grip, running over to where Bri is in the road. 

You race after her, getting there just in time to see your friend's surprised face as she scoops Lisa up in her arms. 

"Little Lady, I don't think you're supposed to be here." Bri states, looking down at your sister. 

Lisa wraps her arms tight around the guard, burying her head against her chest. "I didn't I'd ever see you again! You went away! I hated it." You can just barely make out a sniffle from her.

Bri softens. "Hey, it's alright. I told you I'd come visit sometime, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I'm visiting now. So, let's cheer up a bit, alright?" Bri pulls back, reaching up to take off her hat and setting it on your sisters head. "Here, you can wear this for me, yeah?"

Lisa sniffs again, cheering up. "Okay."

Bri smiles, then looks up to you. "Hell of an entrance, L/N."

"Same to you, Perry." You grin, and hug her tight.  

She claps you on the back hard, shaking your shoulder when you pull away. "It's really great to see you, but I think we both know this isn't the time for greetings."

"Yeah, I know." You both turn to the now calming chaos by the king's carriage. 

She nods to it. "Walk over with me?" 

"Sure."

She adjusts Lisa, who still clings to her, keeping her voice low. "If I'm right about what's going on, I'll need you. Have I got you?"

"Long as you got me." You nod, and she returns it. 

Upon arrival, you can see a small crowd of guards standing around something on the ground by the open-air carriage. You pay no mind to the royal family, you think you'd start freaking out if you did, and instead follow Bri into the crowd's center. 

Along the way, you catch Moon's gaze among the group, who seems surprised to see you. You just offer him a wave and a smile. When you see Sun, you stick your tongue out at him. You think if he could he'd return the favor. 

Laying in the snow, flailing about, is an animatronic, being restrained by three others. It's a blue rabbit, and the others holding him down include a bear, a wolf, and a gator. 

"Bonnie! You have to calm down, please!" The bear pleads. 

The gator growls as he's hit the face by a loose claw. "He's not home right now, Fred. Make a decision already, or I will."

"It's a long shot, but anything you can do?" Bri asks. "This keeps happening randomly to all our bots, and the only solution we've been able to think of has been a bit, graphic. Bonnie's a good guy, I think if he could stop, he would."

Glancing around briefly, you see several already disarmed GUARD bots lying about. Still twitching every so often. Alive, obviously, but likely in pain. If animatronics could feel pain, that is. You're going to assume yes for now.

You nod, trying to think quick. "Yeah, let's give it a chance." You try to take a closer look at the bot. "Tell them to flip him over on his back."

As Bri does so, you dig around in your bot for your knife, snatching it up into your hand when you find it. 

You approach the group, cautious, but determined. 

"Get me clear access to his head." You direct, earning a look from the gator and the wolf, but they shift so you can move in. 

You ignore the thrashing and garbled static coming from the bunny as you kneel down, hand ghosting over the metal of his skull until you find his access panel. You wedge your knife into the small crack, popping it open and tossing it off into the snow. 

Bonnie grows more erratic for a moment, and you jump back slightly until they regain control over him. 

"Hope you know what you’re doing, mon ami." The gator mutters. 

You nod, leaning back in. "Ouais, moi aussi."

Inside, it's set up exactly how you predicted, and after a few quick button presses, and the unplugging of a few wires, Bonnie stills completely. You remove your hands entirely, waiting for a few moments. Once the time is up, you slowly reach down and reinsert the wires in their proper places. 

"Okay. Let him go." You stand up, stepping back. You bump into something, and after a glance to the yellow hand on your shoulder you know who. 

There's a quiet voice by your head as the other animatronics also step back, and the bunny slowly starts to get to his feet. "What did you do?"

"Shut off his limb controls, then gave his system a hard reset." You murmur back. 

Bonnie stands straight, gripping his head. "What happened?"

He's tackled into a hug by the bear that had been holding him down, and a chicken animatronic joins shortly thereafter. "You're okay!"

"Of course I'm alright, Fred. Seriously, what's going on?"

The group of guards cheer, and you feel several reach around the bots behind you give you their thanks. You give polite smiles and nods in response, but inside, you're thinking. You're thinking intently. 

Bonnie has an earring in his right ear, and he's around the same height as another rabbit you know well. 

And his control access is identical.

Bri takes up your vision then, Lisa still in her arms. She encircles you in another hug. "I knew you could do it! Thank you."

"Of course. Glad he's alright."

She goes to say more, but stops, bowing her head. You see the others around you have done the same, in some cases going down on one knee. Turning around, your realize why. 

Through the now surrounding quiet, there's a lone clap that can be heard. It's coming from the carriage, from a man who's now standing, the crown on his head glinting in the sunlight. 

The smile on his face is wide, almost too wide. 

"Well done! Well done, indeed." The King ceases his clapping. "I've yet to meet one as well-versed with machines as myself. Tell me, who must I thank for stepping in and averting disaster here today?"

You can only stand frozen in shock, the grip that's slipped down to your arm is like iron. This is entirely not how you were expecting this day to end up.

Well, shoot.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Man, bet y'all weren't expecting the references to og fnaf in this huh? I keep y'all on your toes. You should know by now, NEVER lower your guard when it comes to me and Confused spirit related things. Anywho~ thanks for reading! I'll be working on getting the next one out soon :)

Main Post with chapter links & info

Tag list (if you would like added, see this post for more info):

@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8

@luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @amarynthian-chronicles

@robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva

@juukai @crystalmagpie447 @mothgutz236 @lizyxml @divinit3a (brilliant mastermind behind this au idea btw)

[idorukiss]

A Slumbering Reunion

─── ⋆⋅୨୧⋅⋆ ─── Sylus x MC/Reader (can be any gender) 2,098 words | SFW | AO3

Tags: First kiss, Cuddling, Start of the relationship, Brief mentions of some side charas, POV Second Person

Summary: Work has kept you from being able to see Sylus for the last month, and you are overcome with longing. You miss him so much. ─── ⋆⋅୨୧⋅⋆ ───

You miss him. You miss Sylus so much more than you ever thought you would when you first met him that fateful night. The ‘you’ of back then would be shocked to see how head over heels you have fallen for this man right now, especially seeing how your relationship has developed over time. All you want to do at this moment is run into his arms and hear his sweet voice, but you can’t. And it pains you every time you are reminded of it.

How long has it been since you got to see his face, let alone hear him call your name? Work has kept both of you busy for the last month, barely able to keep up with daily texts to one another. Any time you had a day off he was in another country, and any time he was finally available you were out on yet another mission unable to be contacted. It was excruciating for the both of you to be apart for so long. Wanderers and shady deals never cease to stop just because you are longing for somebody after all.

It wasn’t unheard of to have so many missions back to back, keeping everyone safe took top priority over everything else. It’s a blessing that Captain Jenna granted a week's vacation after all is said and done as an apology for overworking you. As soon as the last reports were handed in, you were out those doors in record time- even brushing aside Tara’s invite for drinks just to get to your bike sooner.

Your schedules are as synced with one another as they can be with how wildly unpredictable things can be for the both of you. Sylus isn’t set to be home for 2 more days but you don’t care, you just need to see him as soon as possible. He doesn’t know about the newfound time off yet, it was a last minute decision and you wanted it to be a secret. You wanted to surprise him the moment he stepped through the doors with a massive hug and never let go.

Golden rays paint over the landscape as you zip through the traffic and chaos of the N109 zone at record speed. You'd never be this reckless back in Linkon City, but Sylus has taught you to live a little while you're there. And when all you want to do is see him again, not even petty theft on the side of the road will stop you on the way. A familiar crow can be spotted flying alongside you as the looming mansion finally comes into view.

Before you can finish dismounting from your bike the front door is already swinging open, revealing two bright familiar figures calling out to you. It’s easy to tell what good moods the twins are in, they must have been mindlessly bored this entire time. You make a mental note about finding something fun for the three of you to do together tomorrow, time always passes faster with company and you surely have time to spare before Sylus returns

After being escorted in and getting confirmation that the one you wish to see the most indeed won’t be back for a while, you beeline to his office. You know he won’t be there, but it just reminds you of him and sets your heart at ease picturing him there cleaning his gun as always. Slowly taking in the surroundings, everything looks exactly as you last remember it but also so foreign at the same time- Almost as if it were a dream in a way. Has it really been this long?

His desk is perfectly clean, looking like you'd expect it to for the top dog of Onychinus. Well except the small dinosaur figurine sitting on the corner, of course. You got it from a capsule machine months ago and even have your own matching one back home- it sits on your bedside table to greet you every morning. Your heart does a little flip up knowing he keeps it there all the time. Maybe you should get him more trinkets, he enjoys showering you with presents so its only fair you do the same, right?

Sitting yourself on the comfortable leather sofa, you grab a book that was sitting on the table. It’s one you grabbed the last time you were here, curious about the contents, but you didn’t have the time to open it. Seems like Sylus kept it out and ready just for you in case you stopped by- Did he hope you'd stop by while he was gone? You wonder if he found himself staring at it while thinking of you as you open it up and start reading.

Minutes turn into hours, and the words before you start to blur into one another. The clock on the wall now reads 12am to your surprise. Did that much time really pass? The sun was still just barely peeking over the horizon when you sat down. As if on cue, the exhaustion from the last month seems to be hitting you like a brick all at once. Standing up with a big stretch you decide that now’s the best time if any to turn in for the night.

Its always sweet that Sylus keeps a room for you here, sure there's plenty of spare rooms in this large building but nobody is allowed in this one but you. He told you that it will always be stocked and ready so you shouldn't hesitate to come by at any time- That you should always treat his place as if it were your own. A dangerous offer, since if it weren't for work and your important investigations you'd just spend every free moment here. Little did you know, he secretly wishes you would do just that.

A quick shower to get the day's grime off, and you find yourself reminiscing in the room. It was so cold and empty at first but now there's plushies, plants, and photos you took together hung on the wall. Its so warm and comforting now- it feels like home. There's even a new trinket on the bedside table- a small crystal bird that certainly wasn’t here last time. When did he find time to get you this?

Crawling under the warm covers, you drift asleep with an arm outstretched toward the far side of the bed. It felt so empty- you felt so empty. It’s strange to admit that, it’s not like you’ve slept in the same bed like that before. Your relationship with him has indeed developed over time, the longing that's been weighing deep in your chest is proof of that. But you can’t help but wonder what he would call it if you asked. Does he feel the same way?

In the dead of night, the front door slams open with a hurried urgency revealing the silhouette of a tall man illuminated from behind by the moonlight. The only thing stopping him from slamming it shut was the realization of what time it actually was, not wanting to disturb anyone in the house. Not wanting to wake you up. Sylus had rushed home the moment Mephisto signaled to him of your visit, and from the looks of it he couldn’t wait a moment longer.

He doesn’t let his expression show on his face, but the long fast paced strides down the hall just showed his impatience. He could see your shoes by the door but he had to know without a doubt you are there- That he could see your face and hear your laughs again. So that he can feel whole once more with you by his side.

Upon spotting your sleeping figure everything felt right with the world once again. He doesn’t hesitate to throw his jacket on the floor and join you in bed, pulling you ever so tightly against him. He’s surprised that alone didn’t wake you, it must have been a really tiring month to have you this exhausted. Pressing a loving kiss to the top of your head he too drifts off to sleep, feeling a calmness and joy he hasn’t felt in a long time.

That night you dreamed, what it was about you couldn't say. It was both so vivid in your mind yet a complete blur at the same time. Was it happy? Sad? The only detail you can manage to retain is of flowers- a field of flowers as far as the eye can see. Maybe one day the details will come back to you once more and you can share it with him.

Light peeks through the curtains as the sun rises, and stirs you from your slumber. Trying to roll over to get just a few more minutes of much needed rest, you start to register the weight around your waist that's preventing you from moving much- as well as the warmth radiating from next to you. Huh? Your eyes shoot open and are greeted by the sight of Sylus’s sleeping figure. When did he get back?

So many questions race in your mind before they’re drowned out by the unbridled joy in your heart. He’s not supposed to be home yet, but here he was with his arms wrapped around you like a child with their favorite stuffed animal. Are you sure this isn't yet another dream? Well, if it was then it’s not one you wanted to wake up from any time soon.

Your phone dings with nothing more than a spam text, but it’s enough to cause a brief panic. The entire time you’ve known Sylus he has been an extremely light sleeper. Considering how dangerous of a life he lives, it makes perfect sense for him to always be on alert. But you would do anything to not disturb this moment or his sleep in general- and thankfully he seems to be out like a rock for once.

You spend the next seemingly forever just staring at him and gently running your fingers in his hair. He was always handsome, but something about his completely relaxed face as he slept soundly was ethereal. Like he was sculpted out of the finest marble by an angel’s hands, just for you at this very moment. You might be the luckiest person in the world.

As you reach out to cup your hand on his cheek, he begins to stir a little. Lifting his own hand up to hold yours in place as his eyes begin to flutter open, flashing such a shimmering deep red that you adored. He doesn't say anything at first- just staring at you with sleepy affection. Determining too, if this moment was a dream or not.

His voice is quiet, but gruff, as he nuzzles into your hand “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” “Good morning to you too, sleeping beauty” your face not even hiding the joy you feel at this moment “Shouldn't I be asking you that? I thought you were on a business trip.” He props himself up with a chuckle “Well as soon as I heard a certain someone finally showed their face again I cancelled everything I had planned for the week”

Oh how you missed him. Everything about him just makes your heart do flips and having him by your side once again makes you feel complete. Somehow you find yourself falling even more in love with him than you thought was possible. You don’t respond, choosing to just wrap your arms around him and giving him the biggest squeeze you can manage instead.

“I missed you too, kitten” he quietly whispers, holding you tightly in his embrace

You two lay there in each other’s arms, hearts both pounding in unison. The agonizing time apart has finally come to an end and this is where you were both meant to be. As your eyes finally meet once again, everything feels right and ignites a spark- eyes close and lips crash for a gentle yet magical first kiss that exceeds all expectations and daydreams.

It didn’t last nearly long enough for either of you, but the fact it happened in the first place was everything and more. The walls have come crumbling down and there was no hiding your mutual feelings for one another. Your hands wrap around his neck as Sylus pulls you in for yet another kiss- this one more desperate than the first.

Fate has once again brought you together, and with intertwined souls you will continue to love each other for eternity.

[transscribepage]

Both of these genres are complete opposites, so far from each other as to not seemingly be associated at all, which of course means they are practically the same thing.

Both genres, in a tried-and-true representation of themselves, force the player to engage with the game and their systems from entirely different angles.

In Metroidvanias, everything is static; the world never changes completely, rarely more than an unlocked door or a mechanical equivalent, to varying extremes; a whole new zone opens up, or a secret backroom reveals itself. When you gain an upgrade, it's with you for the rest of the game. And an upgrade is frequently just a new type of key; the double-jump to let you go up in that tall room; a morphball/gasform/etc. that lets you slip through small holes or grates.

In Roguelikes, everything is always changing; die, and the map rearranges itself. The items you get reset and you get new ones on the next run. Die, and you unlock more possible things to get (and then lose) on the next run, but not even those changes are static; they only add to the number of changes that could be made on the next run. There are no keys or doors to unlock, only possibilities for more changes.

So Metroidvanias make the player engage with the level, memorizing key points on the map, learning shortcuts, key landmarks, and forcing you to interact with the game's map, level design, and mobility options. The world is the game, but not in a sandbox style where it's yours to manipulate; it's yours to explore, chart, delve, and master.

Meanwhile, Roguelikes force you to engage with the systems of the game; they refuse to give you the comfort of a rigid map or permanent upgrades. You don't unlock a double-jump button or learn how to navigate That One Annoying Room. If you want to proceed, it's not the world you're going to need to master, it's the game's basics; what you start with is the only thing you can rely on, because everything else is randomized to make certain you focus on learning the core of the game itself instead. Roguelikes are the definition that Bruce lee quote, "I fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks once, but I fear the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times.".

Metroidvanias ask you to engage with the game by familiarizing yourself with its world; Roguelikes ask you to engage with the game by familiarizing yourself with its system. But both genres hold a focus on tight controls and a deceptive complexity.

A Metroidvania pushes the player to be proactive, while a Roguelike pushes the player to be reactive; Metroidvanias ask you to take stock of things, memorizing them for later to return to when you get a relevant power-up, while Roguelikes ask you to act quickly, make decisions, and if you fail, just go at it again.

So you would think the two are absolutely incompatible, that they're too opposite to go together; they are sun and moon, always to be separate together, not heads and tails, two sides of the same coin; you HAVE to pick one or the other, no exception.

But actually, that's a lie; the answer is obvious, plain and simple; it's just that, because it doesn't technically reset you completely every time, it doesn't get counted as a roguelike; and because it isn't fully focused on tracing your steps back, it doesn't get counted as a Metroidvania. But the true combination Metroidvania/Roguelike is two words; Dark Souls.

[lostintransist]

You’re writing is amazing you’re amazing and just all the love my goodness I can’t get enough 💕

Oh my goodness! Thank you! I know sometimes (I feel at least about myself) that it reads as just a casual thanks! as if you were passing on the street but I need you to know that this is like caught me in the side of the neck with feels and I will gush about you to my spouse and my soul mate (I am supremely lucky they aren't the same person).

Now I don't know if you are a fan of König (or reading Chiseled Heart) but this has been rattling around my brain like those cans people use to tie to the bumpers of cars for people who got married so I want to share becase we are a long way from it showing up in the fic.

*I like to give people words when they stop by. I treat it the same way sevice people come to my house to fix things. "You want a snack? I got snacks."

I've only had one guy take a snack.

I keep offering.

König freezes, hand on the doorknob, as your voice drifts in from the porch’s open window.

“König? I really like him.”

Your words are full of soft meaning that slaps at him; beating against his skin like the hands of the children who would laugh and pinch him. Even when he was small he had been too big.

“What about him though?” It’s your friend, Tori, “We haven’t seen his face and yes he is built but he doesn’t say much.”

“He seems to treat you well. I guess what we are saying is that we are concerned. He is nothing like your usual type and I want to be sure this isn’t a rebound.” That is Amara, Tori’s girlfriend.

His hand is starting to cramp around the round knob. He relaxes his hold; nothing in life was built with him in mind. König knows he should move, leave, make his presence known, something. The deepest parts of him, those bits hidden that would flourish if only a spare drop of love could find its way down, made him stay silent and still. No one else had been in the house when he came in to use the restroom. The openness of the floorplan would alert him to anyone entering the front door. And so, he stayed.

An annoyed huff leaves your mouth as you must shift in your chair, cloth shifting against wood. He can imagine you, arms folded tight as you force your shoulders down.

“He is kind, and not only to me. Mara, I have seen him pay for a stranger’s tank of gas when we stopped once. I hopped out to use the bathroom. There was a line so I happened to glance outside and see him getting hugged by a sobbing man with his hand still pressing something to the machine. The two receipts for gas confirmed what happened. He buys gift cards every time he goes to the grocery store and often turns around and hands them to moms in line behind him.”

You take a deep, shuddering breath before continuing.

“My usual type is pretty. But pretty men only bring pain. König isn’t pretty.”

König had been stabbed several times, your words punched him with the same force. He shifted his weight to move away, deepest soul shriveling further at the imaginings of your harsh words.

“Have you ever had someone become beautiful before your eyes?”

Your friends must nod or respond in some way he can’t see because you go on.

“He is striking. König’s face is my favorite thing to look at because every time I look he has become more beautiful to me. There is a scar here,” you must be pointing somewhere on your face. Lord knows how many scars he has mapping the landscape of his. It is one of the reasons that he wears a mask even now. “That whites out when he smiles big.”

Something unfurls in his chest, a desert plant tasting rain.

Tori again, “But this isn’t a rebound?”

“I don’t see how it can be? He doesn’t know I like him this much. Honestly, I would be happy being his friend. If he got a girlfriend I would sob myself to sleep for a few weeks as I make friends with her,” you sniff and clear your throat.

“Ah, hun,” Amara croons at you, “You’ve got it bad for him.”

The watery laugh you let out trails König as he slips away to the front door and away from the private conversation.

“God, I’ve got it so bad for him.” The tears in your voice water his broken parts.

Divider

[worldly-fluster]

WARNING: ANGST

So. As I've said in Zayne's, I'm gonna make this one (or try anyway) very very much angst.

--Rafayel-- Part 4 of 4

Last but not least, Fishy.

This is gonna be a little different from the other three, there might be death, but in the end there will be some comfort. I can't have angst without a little comfort in the end or I feel big sad lol.

Rafayel-

•He could get used to this.

•Your smiles and laughs that seem to be for only him.

•You can match his jokes with your sharp tongue and funny humor. He adores when you give him that confident look paired with your hand on the hip and flick of the wrist.

•This is what he knew you could be.

•Not like how he found you.

•Never again. No more silence, stares into the void with no sparkly shine in your eyes. Blank and waiting for something.

•Oh if he got his hands on whomever did that to you before he met you...

•He loves that he can finally help you be yourself now, and always.

•Honestly he just wants to stay with you, but then you would have missions. Constantly.

•This time was supposed to be a normal mission. Like all the others.

•You told him a day, two at least. And you'll be back. You even gave him a bag of yours so you would have a reason to come back to him, instead of straight home.

•He waited for those two days. Before he got a message from Thomas.

•Thomas told him to look at the news, and what he saw made his skin wash in a cold sweat and his breathe leave him.

•It was the place of your mission, they were talking about the casualties and how many are yet to be recovered.

•They showed videos of the carnage. He felt sick.

•He called, texted, and yet no answer. It felt like a cruel prank, like a punch to the gut by the tail of a whale.

•Where were you, were you okay?...Maybe your bag that you left had something to help? He doesn't know why he thought that but he needed to do something other than panic.

•He refuses to believe you could be gone. Not again.

•He opened it and didn't find much, your favorite plushie, a large hoodie, a notebook, a plastic bottle full of sea shells and sand-wait the notebook? Maybe it has something right?

•He opened it to a random page and...wait...why...No. No.NoNoNo that can't be it.

•Why would you give him this? This is talking about how to help him feel better after you d- No, there has to be something else. Something he's not getting.

•You can't be, no way, not yet. You're supposed to grow old next to him. You can't leave him alone again.

•No way would you know-...wait, this is the bag you gave him every time you went on a mission like this...

•But there were times when you would just give him the bag for no reason- there has to be more to it right?

•He reads just a little more.

•What...he can't...he can't breathe, it feels like the weight of the ocean is on him again...

•He throws the book across the room and picks up his phone again and before he can call you again, his phone rings.

•Its you.

•He hardly lets the phone ring twice, only because of his initial shock, when he answers.

•"Where the hell are you?! You-! You need to-! I can't-! Why..."

•He can barely get anymore words out before he chokes on the words, his pearly tears streaming down his paler than normal face.

•"I-I need you...to come here. Now. Please."

•He hears your soothing sweet voice telling him you'll be there in a few minutes, you were already on your way when you called back.

•It feels like years to him before he hears you walking up to his door.

•He has it open before you can make it to the threshold. He's a mess, his hair all over the place, his clothes wrinkled and front slightly wet, his face a little puffy and red from tears.

•His shaky yet strong arms are around you in seconds.

•"You're not leaving me again. Not for work, missions, or just out with friends. I can't- won't let you out of my sight until the ocean dries up. And even then I can't stand it, you're not going anywhere..."

•You can see behind him over his shaking shoulder, the bag you left is on the floor opened. The notebook can be seen practically torn in half on the far side of the room.

•You have tears in your eyes as you realize he read it's content, there isn't any going back from that.

•You hug him back as you say, "I wouldn't have it any other way, honestly."

•He hugs you close to him for what seems like hours, breathing in your sent, feeling your warmth. Knowing that sooner or later he will have to let you go...but that can be later. Not now, he wishes never.

***😁 @an-ever-angry-bi ***

[wholoveseggs]

ship for the lovely @perseephoneee !!

Of course I will ship you with the (only slightly) less handsome Mikaelson brother ~~ I joke I joke... Sorta. Kol loves chaos, but he’s also an artist at heart, passionate and creative. And that sounds like a perfect match for you! You are a musical artist as well as a writer and an all-around cool person, the kind of girl Kol would chase after!

~A Christmas Eve with Kol

(& the rest of the Mikaelson family)

It starts like every Mikaelson gathering—a bit of revelry, a lot of wine, and Klaus yelling about how he met the "real" Santa (K)Claus and he was a "stupid bloody git," who was "no damn better than the rest of us," etc, etc. (The man can create beef with anyone, anytime, for any reason.)

You are trying your best to nod along and be empathetic, but you’re scanning the room, silently begging for another Mikaelson to rescue you from the awkwardness. Rebekah is in the kitchen, meticulously decorating cookies; Elijah is helping Hayley and Hope wrap gifts; and Kol… Well, Kol is nowhere to be seen.

Suddenly, yelling erupts from the kitchen. Kol decided it would be hilarious to replace one of Rebekah’s cookies with a small plastic spider. Needless to say, it didn’t go over well.

Now, you’re both in the corner, laughing so hard you can barely breathe. Kol, of course, is trying to convince you to sneak upstairs with him so he can show you the gift he got you. You’re adamant about staying downstairs to finish your drink, but he turns those puppy dog eyes on you, lips pouting in a way that makes it absolutely impossible to say no. “Fine,” you huff, feigning annoyance as you follow him upstairs.

In his room, he tells you to sit on the bed. You watch as he grabs something out of his closet, hiding it behind his back with a sheepish grin. You roll your eyes. “Kol, we’re not kids. What are you hiding?”

He reveals a beautiful, hand-crafted guitar, its polished wood gleaming in the low light. Your mouth drops open. It’s stunning.

“Do you like it?” he asks, his voice suddenly quieter, almost uncertain. “Kol, it’s… perfect,” you manage, your voice soft. “Not as perfect as you,” he teases, taking your hand and leading you to the attic stairs before you can even protest. “Come on, love. There’s more.”

He leads you up to the roof, where the world is blanketed in snow and lit by a thousand tiny lights strung around the compound. From his coat pocket (Kol always comes prepared), he pulls out a small speaker and plays your favorite Christmas song. “Care to dance?” he asks, extending his hand with a dramatic flourish.

You laugh but take it anyway. The two of you sway together under the stars, the rest of the world fading away. Kol’s hands are warm despite the cold, and his gaze? Intense, like you’re the only thing that matters. He twirls you around, laughing when your breath catches.

For a moment, it’s just the two of you—the music, the snow, the lights, and the warmth of his body against yours.

Then, he leans in, brushing a snowflake from your hair before pressing his lips to yours. The kiss is soft and sweet, everything you imagined it would be.

Later, when you’re back inside, Kol (true to form) pretends the dance never happened. He smirks at you from across the room as if to say, That’s our little secret.

Of course, you’ll never forget it. Every time you hear that song, every time snowflakes start to fall, you’ll think of Kol Mikaelson and the way he made the world stop for you.

Playlist ♬ (idk these songs just remind me of Kol)

These Fangs - Say Hi Doors Unlocked and Open - Death Cab Lovebomb - Yeah Yeah Yeahs Fog - Wintersleep

[thevoidgalactic]

Well, this disease is defined by its treatment—you people make me sick.

{𝘞𝘩𝘰'𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘸𝘢𝘺? 𝘞𝘩𝘰 𝘱𝘪𝘭𝘰𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘥𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴? 𝘞𝘩𝘺'𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘰𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘺? 𝘓𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘯𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦—𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭, 𝘪𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘧𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘺? 𝘞𝘦𝘭𝘭, 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘩𝘢-𝘩𝘢 𝘧𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘺, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘺'𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸... 𝘧𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘺.}

—

Oh, no. You were doing so well. No, no no no NO NO NO N

“[Artemis, this isn’t logical.]”

Another fight.

“(Fuck your logic, you hypocrite-!)”

There was never a day of peace in this house. Something always had to go wrong.

Atlas leaned against his door, dully listening to the argument going on. All things they’ve heard before, sure, but she had nothing better to do. He couldn’thave anything better to do, he was always too damn tired. Of course, they were too tired to deal with their siblings too, but whatever.

She sat cross-legged on the floor, eyelids drooping with exhaustion, but sleep had been evasive lately. The yelling grew louder, but he ignored it like always. Another day, another fight. That’s what they always told themself.

Artemis and Helios were always telling each other to listen. Funny how that worked, when neither of them ever thought to listen to the other. They always thought they were better than the other, so obviously only their point was valid. Atlas narrowed his eyes. Their arguing never ended unless he intervened. And she didn’t feel like intervening.

Atlas simply closed their eyes, hoping to zone out and miss the fight entirely. Those two might kill each other, sure, but Atlas couldn’t lend the energy to care anymore. The plan sort of worked.

…

A dark void.

Entirely empty, soundless, sightless, senseless— save for one thing. Blood coated the ground; if it could even be called a ground. The color was indiscernible, as if it was every color and no color at the same time. Perhaps a color unseeable by the naked eye, perhaps it didn’t exist at all. But the metallic tang in the air was unmistakable.

The void seemed to stretch on forever. Of course, you couldn’t test that theory. You couldn’t move an inch. All you can do is stand there, maybe try to perceive the color of the blood. You might go insane if you do that. But you can see a hint of purple, and blue, and red… laced with gold.

You recall that gold blood—ichor, it was called—is the blood of gods. Perhaps there was some higher force at play. You could always sense it. A name rings in your mind.

Harmoni—

—BANG. Atlas jolted awake, startled by a loud sound- a gunshot, maybe. …A gunshot? Who was—

Oh.

Atlas bolted upright, fumbling with the door handle, then throwing it open. He stumbled out, almost falling, then caught himself and sprinted to the kitchen. They could hear Artemis screaming, sobbing, but didn’t register a word. She burst into the room, barely catching herself on the doorframe.

The scene almost made Atlas vomit.

There was a gun on the floor. Artemis was crying, as Atlas heard earlier, and Helios— Helios was on the ground, bleeding profusely from a wound in his throat, seemingly choking on his own blood. Helios looked up at Atlas, eyes wild with terror. Artemis was at his side, trying desperately to staunch the blood, but Helios kept pushing them away.

“(I- hic Fuck, I’m so sorry, Helios PLEASE—)” Artemis sobbed, before noticing Atlas. “(Atlas— Atlas, help me, help him- please…)”

Atlas stood there for a long minute, staring at Artemis. Their eye twitched. What a fucking idiot, shooting their own goddamned brother.

“{…Heh.}” A wobbly grin appeared on Atlas’ face, his eyes widened— Though whether it was fear or madness, she wasn’t sure. Their quiet giggles grew louder, more intense, until they were cackling uncontrollably, his eyes still fixed on Artemis. Artemis looked scared, terrified, even.

”(ATLAS, THIS ISN’T—)”

A flash of red light silenced them. Atlas gripped his trident with shaking hands, stepping slowly, deliberately towards Artemis. They were pleading with him, eyes full of terror and crocodile tears. How pathetic. She raised the trident over her head, still laughing.

“{You’re so fucking stupid.}”

Before Artemis could say more, Atlas brought the trident down. They weren’t sure how they felt about Artemis’ screams. She almost felt… elated.

Was this what control felt like? To be able to do something for once? Gone were the days of standing around, helplessly, doing nothing. Blood poured from Artemis’s face—where their eyes once were. Atlas finally pulled the trident out, still for a moment.

A hand grabbed their ankle.

He looked down at Helios, still choking, tears pouring from his eyes. How ironic. The one obsessed with logic, who hates showing emotion or weakness, reduced to this. Atlas dropped the trident, kneeling down next to Helios, peering into his eyes. He was trying to speak. No matter. He started this fight.

Atlas gently rolled Helios onto his back, prying his hand off of their ankle. She looked at the wound. Gross. She grabbed up the trident again, holding Helios down once he noticed, and he futilely tried to pry Atlas’ arm away, shaking his head, panic seeming to set in.

Of course, this was useless. He was weak. Atlas stood again, stepping onto Helios’ torso to keep him still. They pressed the trident against his shoulder, lining it up perfectly…

A sickening cracking noise could be heard as Atlas brought it down, separating Helios’ arm from its socket… relatively cleanly. He knocked the arm away, and moved to repeat the process, ignoring Helios’ thrashing and dry heaving. Atlas’ head throbbed, and his heart pounded, sending a short tremor through his body.

Atlas discarded Helios’ arms, then glanced at Artemis. They surely haven’t learned their lesson. She raised the trident again, driving it straight through their heart, before they simply… vanished. Visions of a dark void. Entirely empty, soundless, sightless, senseless— save for one thing. Blood—flashed through his mind again.

Apathy. That was all Atlas felt by now. That was where Artemis was now. And where they’d stay, for… oh, that didn’t matter. Atlas needed to keep Helios from bleeding out, anyhow.

Purple and blue splattered the floor and one of the walls, swirling and mixing in a morbidly dazzling array of color. It would be beautiful, if not for… actually, no. It was beautiful. Atlas could have taken a moment to admire his work, but he had more important things.

…

Look.

Oh, god, look at what you’ve done now to me—

[linkaholic]

Not at all sat here thinking about how in dungeons (especially in the older Zelda games) you often need to be going here there and everywhere to complete each stage. Like, the switch to open the door in Room A might be all the way over in Room X, for example.

So what I'm getting at, is imagine the LU boys (looking specifically at Wars and Wild) going crazy trying to figure out how to open the locked door in one of their rooms, and it suddenly opens for seemingly no reason when in reality one of the other boys shot a switch in a separate part of the dungeon.

Unseen teamwork my beloved