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dearest-nell · 8 months ago

Text

a real piece of art

e.m x reader, 2.8k

summary: eddie has some time to kill, and you might just be his new favourite distration. includes: art history student!reader, meet cute, eddie's an absolute dork warnings: mentions of nudity in artwork and allusions to a young eddie who is very excited by the prospect.

a/n: this came to me as i stared blankly into the void of my coffee machine this morning. i'm incapable of proofreading as per usual. i could be convinced to do a part two

Eddie had no business being here. This was an art gallery for crying out loud! He couldn’t remember the last time he’d stepped in one, save that one unfortunate field trip in middle school where he’d been caught ogling a half naked sculpture in front of half the class. Sue him, he’d never seen a naked girl before, and he really had to give credit to the artist because he couldn’t look away. He’d been called a perv for a good year after that, and he’d never thought to visit another gallery again.

Until now, that was. He was due for a practice and soundcheck in what he thought was only an hour, but somewhere along the line Jeff had got the time wrong, leaving Eddie stuck in Chicago with nothing but his ego to keep him company. Eddie had kicked himself for the mistake – who rehearses at 10 am anyways? There was a silent agreement that Gareth would be handling the bookings next time, where Eddie might be able to actually stay in bed until a reasonable hour.

He’d thought to burrow down in a cafe for a little while, but the snooty businessmen and shrill giggles of the barista had sent him fleeing. The environment wasn’t conducive to good thinking anyways. He figured a little solace would do him some good, maybe give him some hard earned inspiration to turn into music for the band. So with coffee in hand, he’d taken to the streets, wandering idly as the strings of bodies moved in tandem, dodging and weaving the tracks of Tuesday morning commutes. It might have been enough for him had his jacket not been too thin for the sudden drop in temperature. Worn denim with steamed patches was hardly enough to break the piercing gusts of wind, and even his sweltering coffee in hand could not keep his hands from shaking. Looking around, Eddie felt out of luck. Cafe’s seemed too busy, and he had no real desire to start wandering shops nearby, so what was there left to do?

$14 later, Eddie puffed a relieved sigh as the warmth of the gallery enveloped him, that trembling cold slowly dissipating from his veins until his hands no longer felt like ice. He figured he’d have taken any sanctuary, though he had been hoping maybe for a Library. At least then he could have bunkered down somewhere with a book. What did you even do at a gallery anyways? He didn’t see much point in wandering around, scanning his eyes over paintings that seemed a million years old. He didn’t get art. Music was his art, after all. Even as he started to walk, all the pieces seemed to bleed together for him. Acrylics and oils and gouache melted into the blur of faces and places and things. Sure, they looked pretty, but Eddie couldn’t see why anyone would waste their time to sit and paint something like this, let alone stare at it for hours.

He passed through room after room like this, brows furrowed, arms crossed as he tried to puzzle out the meaning. Music and melody had meaning, lyrics filled with the words people couldn’t seem to say any other way. The sounds of instruments were sounds of heartbeats, of head rushes and blood flow and heart aches and burning desires – paintings couldn’t do that, could they?

Wandering into a smaller room, Eddie found himself caught as his eyes fixated on perhaps the only worthwhile piece of art he had seen all morning. There you were, perched somewhat uncomfortably on the plush leather seat in the room's centre, head resting delicately into cupped palms, your elbows propping you up into a figure he was sure was only meant for statues. You looked like one of the Greek ones, he thought, all soft and graceful curves, pretty lines and prettier expressions. There was a notebook in your lap, though Eddie couldn’t begin to make out what the blurry pen strokes might have noted at this distance.

You seemed so lost in thought as you stared at the piece directly before you, eyebrows knitted in concentration to match the deep set focus of your eyes, and Eddie, despite himself, was lost in you.

It was a horrifying notion to realise he was back in this same situation again, entirely different and yet all the same. Here he was, stuck motionless, staring helplessly at something beautiful, something entirely foreign to him. Naked breasts had been enough to melt a twelve year old Eddie’s mind, but this Eddie, now grown, was entirely transfixed for another reason. Never in his life had just looking at a person knocked the wind right out of him. This was beyond attraction, he thought. Beyond a pretty face and a beautiful body and all those hormones that made people spin. You were all of that, and so much more.

How he knew that seemed entirely out of reach, but the thought settled in him all the same.

Eddie watched the subtle angle of your head, the way you tried to see from a different perspective, before fixating your attention on your notebook once more, scribbling away furiously at stained parchment.

All better judgement seemed to leave him as he approached, slow and long strides to avoid the echoes of boots against floorboards in such vastness. His body took residence beside the lounge, standing tall at the opposite end, arms crossing as he tried to see what it was that had you so fascinated.

Cheese. Bread. Nuts of some kind. He tilted his head as you had, browns furrowing in confusion. Still cheese. Still bread. Still nuts of some kind. He let out a defeated huff.

“Are you okay?”

He hadn’t expected you to speak, let alone notice him, but when he turned his chin towards you he was met with a curious expression. You were even more captivating up close, as it turned out, so much so that he could not decide what captured his attention more. The soft bags of sleepless nights hung low under your eyes, your cheeks flushed with a dusty sort of colour that only the artifice of candies could achieve, your cheeks indented so delicately with the lines of so many smiles that had come before.

It was embarrassing in his eyes that he was still gawking, and even more embarrassing that you had to ask your question a second time.

“Oh– yeah. I mean… yeah. Sorry. Was I being too loud?”

The soft shake of your head was accompanied by an even gentler smile, and Eddie felt his shoulders ease a fraction away from his ears.

“No, not at all. Just seemed like a forlorn sigh.” You pointed out, uncrossing your legs to lower your feet to the ground.

Eddie’s brow raised, his tone lilting with amusement. “Forlorn, huh?”

You shrugged, though Eddie could see the slow creep of embarrassment flush your cheeks, your hand lifting to rub at it absentmindedly. “Yeah, I guess. It was just the first word that came to mind.”

Eddie was smiling before he knew what he was doing. “I like it. Forlorn. Like it’s from a poem, or something.”

A soft hum of contemplation fell from your lips, your pen scratching nervously in the margins of your notebook, patterns of stars falling into the sea of words below. “Could be. Poets are meant to be all crestfallen and stuff.”

He actually laughed at that, something sounding like a punched out breath leaving him, his eyes crinkling delightfully at the corners.

“Are you a writer or somethin’? You don’t just hear people saying words like that every day. Gotta know them by trade.”

You shrugged again, tucking a loose strand of hair behind the curve of your ear. “Student, actually. Art history, so I guess fancy words are part of the curriculum.”

It seemed strange to be meeting you like this, like someone high above had heard his complaints only to send him an angel to set him straight. An art student; maybe you could teach him a thing or two.

Eddie gestured to the seat beside you, flat palm dampened nervously at the prospect of speaking to someone so pretty, so much more learned than him. You nodded shyly, not bothering to adjust as he took up the empty space beside you, his elbows propping on his knees for comfort.

“Can I ask you something, then? Since all of this is your thing.”

You closed your notebook, folding your legs beneath you once more as you fixated your attention on him – something Eddie was sure no man could ever tire of wanting from you. “Sure”.

“Why are you staring at this one? Out of all the pictures in this place, what makes cheese so interesting.”

The astonished little chuckle that left you was something sacred, golden and warm and louder than he had anticipated. You could put that laugh to song. Maybe he would.

“It’s not the cheese,’ You clarify, your smile never shifting from your lips, “though it looks great, doesn’t it? Looks real.”

Eddie took in the piece once more, letting his eyes trace over the food to take in the finer details. It was true; it looked real. He could see the shadows, the cracks in the bread, the crumbs that had fallen onto the platter below. He realised it mustn’t have been easy to make something so real. It felt like a snapshot.

Oh fuck, do I get art now?

“Yeah, it looks real. Kinda crazy real, actually. How do they get it looking like that?”

“It’s different for different people. This one’s by Peeters, and no one’s sure where she learned to paint, but she was one of the only female professionally working artists of the 17th century. She was a big deal.”

Eddie tilted his head towards you. “Is that why you like her, then?”

You shook your head, scrunching up your nose. “It’s very impressive, but it’s not the only reason. I was looking for her signature.”

Eddie did not need to clarify himself, the confusion that etched across his face spoke volumes, leaving you to laugh again in amusement.

“A lot of artists leave signatures so you know a work is theirs. Sometimes it’s their name, or an item, or a seal – sometimes it’s on the back, sometimes it’s made to look part of the picture. She writes her name down at the bottom, see?”

You leaned in a little closer to Eddie, lining up his gaze with your own so you could point out a flourish of cursive in the corner. Drawn into you, Eddie could not help but lean into your orbit, his eyes following the line of your finger to its destination. “Oh yeah. Musician’s do that too, y’know. Chuck in a riff or a line or something to leave their mark.”

“Seems like it’s an artist's thing. I think it’s pretty cool.”

Eddie liked the insinuation that musicians were artists. He’d met too many people in his life who’d thought otherwise, who did not understand the value of art. He supposed he was one of them, though. He’d been ratting on the art around him only five minutes earlier.

“You like music, then?” He asked, eagerness in his voice betraying the cool persona he was hoping to achieve.

“I love music.” You confirmed, hands busily occupying themselves by twiddling the pen in your lap once more. “I wish they played music here. Imagine looking at all the art and listening to songs that fit. There’s these big dramatic paintings a few rooms over that are just begging for a rock instrumental to accompany it, and the cheese…” you trailed off, seemingly embarrassed to have been so caught up in the idea. “I feel like I'd be lost in it forever.”

Eddie closed his eyes for the briefest moment, letting the vision of your little dream settle in his mind. He could get around that, art and music together – two worlds colliding. It seemed all the more enticing to think you would be there too, humming away as you watched the paintings and he watched you.

“I think it sounds brilliant. You tell me when you’re building this fancy gallery and I’ll be the first one there.”

He might have died at the sincerity with which you smiled. No heart was meant to withstand such adoration brimming inside of it.

“You know, I–” you paused, garnering some courage to find the words, “the signature I was talking about before? That wasn’t the one that had me looking at this. The cheese, I mean.” You gestured vaguely towards the canvas before you, though Eddie was unwilling to peel his eyes from the work of art before him.

“Yeah? What had you looking, then?” He couldn’t believe that for the first time in his life, Eddie actually cared about what was splayed across a canvas. Whatever it was that intrigued you so, he was aching to know.

“She painted herself in the reflection of the lid on the jug. Up the top… see?” Adjusting the items in your lap, you slowly rose to your feet, extending a hand out to drag the boy up with you. Eddie faltered only for a second, contemplating whether this one single touch would make or break him. Would the sweat of his palms disgust you? He was so nervous to talk to you, after all, to take this chance. He swallowed, slipping calloused fingers into your own until he felt unperturbed digits grasp his own, your expression unphased as you guided him towards the wall.

You both paused a foot short, your free hand pointing upwards to guide his flittering eyes. Lo and behold, painted so delicately into the reflection of the jug, was a face staring back at him. His hand squeezed your own with untapped excitement, and Eddie’s mouth dropped.

“Holy shit, that’s so cool. That’s really her?”

You nodded, squeezing his hand back. “Yeah, that’s Clara.”

It was silent for a beat, the two of you soaking in the image before you; the woman in and amongst all the pieces of a life lived so long ago. It was a moment in history, much like the one the two of you were caught in now.

Eddie marvelled helplessly, unsure what seemed to amaze him more; all these details that he never would have noticed if it weren’t for you, or the fact that you, a complete stranger, were still holding on to his hand as if it were something normal. For the briefest moment, he wondered if this could be normal, you and him.

“I think this is the ultimate signature in a painting, just writing yourself into the story like that. It’s such a small thing, but… it changes everything, doesn’t it?” You broke the silence, voice a little dream like as you spoke. Eddie could only nod dumbly, a contented smile spreading across his face.

“You wouldn’t wanna show me more of these, would you?”

Eddie couldn’t stand the idea that you might walk away after this, back to your own life that until now had been so far away from his own. He wanted to walk the whole gallery with you, your hand in his, your voice whispering sweet nothings about the history and details of the world around you.

The sheer excitement that crossed your features was an expression unmatched, never before seen. It was like he had asked you the one question you had been waiting for your whole life. Maybe you had been. Maybe no one had ever taken interest in the thing you seemed to love so much. He knew what that was like after all, his music had not been everyone's cup of tea.

Maybe it could be yours.

“Oh, I– really?”

“Only if you want to. I spent my whole time here trying to work out what made this stuff so special; I think you might be the one to show me. I’ll buy you coffee as thanks, if you like. I mean… I’d like to take you out for coffee.”

He felt like a bumbling idiot, pausing to breathe an embarrassed chuckle. “You can also tell me to get lost at any time.”

Eddie wasn’t sure if you noticed the way your hand seemed to tighten in his own, the movement causing his heart to beat in unsteady rhythms. It was something so small that seemed to shift his entire world – your hand holding his.

Your head tilted with a smile. “You never said your name, y’know.”

“Eddie.” He breathed out a little too fast. He’d have to kick himself later for it, because right now, he was too fixated on the way his foolishness seemed to make you smile all the wider.

“Eddie.” You echoed, turning your body to face his own. “I’d love a coffee.”

It took everything in him not to fist bump in triumph, his body aching to wriggle with the excitement that was slowly taking over muscle by muscle. How the hell had his morning turned out this good?

“Sounds like a date, then.”

(images not mine)

“Still Life with Cheeses, Almonds and Pretzels” by Clara Peeters (ca. 1615)

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yourownutopia · 21 days ago

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Ultraviolent Heart Part II

╰┈➤ A year has passed since you walked away from the hunter world, from him. The ache in your chest never left, but tonight, you let yourself surrender to it, if only for a moment. That’s when you feel it—a faint flicker of mana. Hope surges, fragile and desperate, at the thought that it could mean Jin Woo. But as you follow the spark, it's not Jin Woo who greets you..

[Part I]

Crywolf - ultraviolent [she sang to me a language strange]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚--~

“What if I manage to kill you and your puppets as well?”

Jin-Woo’s voice was cold as ice, his eyes glowed, and his face was smeared with blood as he stared at the half-destroyed statue, which was looking back at him with a hint of panic.

The power emanating from the young Hunter made the room tremble. The room where everything had begun—the room he could now finally return to, only to discover that the creator of his powers was also the root of all evil.

The half-destroyed statue responded, its jaw already shattered, and deep gashes marked where Jin-Woo’s daggers had struck.

“I am the architect of this system. If you were to kill me—”

“—I’d become an E-rank again?” the black-haired Hunter finished the sentence, sweat glistening on his bloodstained forehead as a manic smile spread across his lips.

“I’ve already considered that possibility… but a system that exists won’t simply collapse if its creator vanishes, will it?” His grin widened, and the statue realized what that meant.

By the time its own system denied it access, its fate was sealed.

“I used to think I had no choice but to follow the system, that I’d become nothing more than an avatar, bend to its will” Jin-Woo whispered, tightening his grip on his blades. The glowing aura around him and the second heart he just got beating in his chest quickened his movements—each beat releasing more mana.

“I’ll just devour the entire system,” he declared, preparing to strike. But then the Architect said something that froze him mid-attack.

“̴H̵a̵v̷e̶ ̵y̴o̵u̴ ̷n̶e̷ver̷ wo̵n̴de̷r̴e̶d̶ ̶w̷h̶e̵re̴ ̷s̴he̷ d̷i̵s̶a̴p̷p̶e̵a̵r̵e̵d̵ ̵t̵o̷?̵”̴

The Voice began to tremble, static and flickering – like a broken TV.

The Shadow Monarch’s eyes remained unchanging, and he kept the statue in his sights. Was this a dirty trick? Was it trying to exploit his only weakness—you?

The Architect’s tone shifted as he noticed the young Hunter’s hesitation. He had struck a nerve. Not even a second heart could fill the gaping hole in his chest that you had left behind. But the thought of what the system might have done to you made uncontrollable rage boil within him.

He’s just playing with you, Jin-Woo. Don’t listen to him.

Your voice was loud and clear in his head—or at least the voice he still remembered.

Maybe he had a screw loose, or he was completely losing his mind, but after some time of your absence, your voice began appearing more and more clear in his mind. Especially in situations that were inherently dangerous, when adrenaline coursed through his veins. It wasn’t real – he knew that too well, but it was enough to give him strength.

Suddenly, it all made sense—the reason why he couldn’t find you anywhere, not even a single clue about your whereabouts, no matter how long and intensely he searched. Who could let you disappear, if not the System itself?

As he followed this train of thought, a massive knot formed in his stomach. The mere idea that he might have done something terrible to you—who knows what—was enough to drive him to the brink of madness.

His grip on the dagger tightened, the weapon creaking under the sheer force of its wielder. His entire body burned.

“What have you done?”

His voice trembled with fury—a rage that sent fear coursing through his shadows.

A rage with the potential to turn this dungeon—no, the entire city or even the world, to ashes.

And he likely would if it meant avenging you.

A deep laugh filled his ears as the battered statue laughed.

"That's the funniest part of all this, I didn't have to do anything", its voice was smug, less panicked. Now, he had enough time to do what should prevent his death.

What did he mean by that?

"You did this for me" the architect added. Jin Woo felt a sharp pang in his heart at the thought that he was responsible for what had happened to you. If only he had looked after you better…

"She left on her own."

The wounds inside him, which he had sporadically patched up, ripped open again at the thought.

He didn’t want to believe it—couldn’t believe it. Not coming from the mouth of this monster, yet his words ate their way into his mind.

His voice distorted, as though there was interference, but the grin on the stone shell didn’t fade—in fact, it grew wider.

The black-haired man didn’t want to listen any longer and prepared to attack, but a voice—your voice—stopped him. So clear and distinct, as if you were right beside him. And then he saw you out of the corner of his eye.

“Jin-Woo?” you asked softly, almost hesitantly. Your [E/C] eyes shone. This time – your Voice rang crystal clear in his ears, as if you were just beside him. It felt too real. His whole body reacted to your voice, a shiver ran down his spine.

His mistake: he turned his gaze away, just to finally see you again.

The world stood still for a second as he looked at you, his mouth opening to say something, anything—but by then, it was already too late.

The stone spear of the statue pierced his stomach, sending waves of pain through his entire body.

Blood gushed from his mouth, his eyes wide in shock. He had… fallen for it.

He saw his HP plummet drastically, his vision blurred, and his strength drained away.

Was this the end? Would he die here?

The sharp scream of his name that came out of Hae-In’s mouth, who stood with the other S-Rank hunters not far from the battle, didn’t reach him.

Everything around him grew dark, his eyes fluttered, and he shut out all the sounds surrounding him—only your image remained.

He was tired, so unbearably tired. He didn’t want to continue; it was all too much. And knowing he would never see you again shattered the last bit of resolve that had driven him forward.

What reason did he have to keep suffering? He might as well succumb to the darkness and finally let his soul rest. Stop fighting, at last.

This feeling… death reaching for him, pulling him to the other side.

Was the Double Dungeon truly to be his eternal resting place after all, despite escaping it the first time? How ironic.

“It’s okay” your voice gently reached his ears.

Could he finally be happy with you if he gave in?

He exhaled one last time and closed his eyes.

Peace, at last.

“You’ve fought enough; you can let go” you said softly, and he felt the warmth of your hands cupping his cheeks.

When he opened his eyes, the Double Dungeon was gone—everything around him was white, and he gazed into your beautiful [E/C] eyes, your face framed with a soft smile on your lips.

Was this an illusion? A figment of his imagination to ease his passing?

“You can let go, Jin-Woo” you said calmly, your lips mere inches from his.

But just before you could unite your lips with his, something dawned on him, something that reignited life in his limbs.

“N…” he began, but only a raspy sound escaped on his first attempt.

“Hmm?” you asked.

“Ne…ver…” Jin-Woo made a second attempt.

“Never” he finally croaked, and your eyes widened.

“[Y/N] would never say something like that”, he declared, his numb limbs moving again.

You had always cheered him on, stood by his side, and motivated him to keep going, even when he didn’t want to. You had taken his hand and encouraged him to surpass himself, to never give up.

“When you’re backed into a wall, tear the damn thing down”, you had told him after you’d both barely survived Cerberus, when the situation seemed hopeless—but you had pushed through and pulled him along.

The illusion began to crumble around him, and the soft smile of your mirage twisted into a knowing, satisfied grin. As if Death himself was satisfied with his own Defeat, almost proud of Jin Woo’s resistance.

Jin-Woo straightened up, his hands instinctively gripping the spear in his stomach. The light disappeared, along with your form, and his eyes snapped open. Life flooded his body, and the second heart in his chest pumped even more pulsating mana through his veins as he pulled out the Speer, blood dripping down to his feet.

The triumphant grin of the statue shifted to pure horror at the sight of him getting back in action, after it had already claimed its victory.

“You really don’t know her if you think she’d ever say something like that”, Jin-Woo said as he spat the blood from his mouth, the metallic taste still lingering on his tongue.

In a flash, he sprinted forward and cleaved the statue’s face, its terrified eyes staring at him. It was over.

“Apparently…” the statue began to speak, its voice growing quieter toward the end, but its horrified expression turned into one of satisfaction—a faint grin.

What now? Had he underestimated something?

No, Jin-Woo could feel the presence of the Architect fading—it was clear, its mana dwindling. And yet, the creature acted as though it had won.

“I’ll leave her a message from you,” were the monster’s final words, spoken with just enough strength for a wide grin, before its presence faded.

Jin-Woo’s eyes widened at the words. No—this couldn’t—.

He reached out. No way would he let this monster go wherever you were, no matter where that might be.

When his hand finally felt something warm, he gripped it as tightly as he could and felt his body being pulled along.

A blinding light forced him to shut his eyes, a wave of energy surging toward him so intensely that he could only grip tightly onto whatever threatened to slip from his grasp. Suddenly, the ground beneath him vanished, leaving him weightless in the embrace of a strange warmth.

The warmth seeped into his wounds, and the pain vanished instantly.

For the first time in months, the crushing weight on his chest lifted, and he could breathe freely. It was a sensation he hadn’t felt since your absence.

The warmth enveloped him, soothing his battered soul like a gentle, healing touch. For a fleeting moment, everything felt right. But then, just as quickly, the feeling disappeared. The light receded, the emptiness returned, and the electric hum of mana that usually coursed through his veins was gone.

His feet hit cold concrete, dizziness overtaking him as his back slammed against the ground. The impact forced the air from his lungs, leaving him gasping as he lay motionless. The screech of tires pierced the air, snapping his head upward—only to be blinded by a pair of glaring headlights.

Jin Woo flinched, squeezing his eyes shut as he instinctively raised a hand to shield himself. Confusion flooded his mind; the abrupt change of scenery and his sluggish reflexes left him utterly perplexed.

Moments later, the car door creaked open, and a voice rang out—both alarmed and irritated.

"You can’t just run out into the road like that, man! What’s wrong with you?!"

His head whipped toward the source of the voice as a figure stepped into view. Worry flickered in the stranger's lavender-colored eyes as he crouched down to examine Jin Woo, who looked thoroughly disoriented.

"Are you hurt?’’, the man asked, his initial anger giving way to concern, likely born of the shock.

For a moment, Jin Woo didn’t answer, his breathing uneven as he tried to process his surroundings, before Jin-Woo crouched back.

But his movements were… slow. Far too slow. What was going on?

It felt as though he had no Mana left at all.

He immediately glanced down at his body, only to find the gaping wound in his stomach gone, along with the blood on his clothes—and even his shirt was no longer completely shredded.

It felt as though all the Mana in his body had vanished. An icy wave of panic clawed its way through him.

"Beru?!" Jin Woo called out; his voice edged with urgency. He expected a response, a reassuring presence—but there was nothing. Silence pressed in around him. He was truly alone.

Instead, the stranger in front of him gave him a puzzled look, clearly unsure who—or what—Jin Woo was calling for.

The man had striking lavender eyes and stark white hair, the contrast making his features all the more vivid. Jin Woo’s gaze lingered on him for a second too long before snapping away.

"I'm fine," Jin Woo replied curtly, though the sharp edge in his tone was undermined by his obvious disorientation.

The stranger raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. And who could blame him? Jin Woo looked far from "fine," his body tense and his expression filled with panic.

"Are you sure?" the stranger pressed, leaning in slightly, his tone gentler now.

Jin Woo let out a defeated sigh. He couldn’t afford to waste time arguing, not when something was clearly wrong. He swallowed hard before asking, his voice quieter than before:

"Where are we?"

-‘๑’-

A Year

It had been a year.

Exactly one year since you had returned home and turned your back on the world of Hunters.

A year spent trying to move forward, even though your heart had shattered into a thousand pieces.

A year filled with bitter truths—because you no longer had a place to return to.

It became painfully clear that no one remembered you—not your parents, not your friends. As if you had never existed.

But that pain was nothing compared to the emptiness you felt when you realized your decision was final.

The moment your mind caught up with what you had done, you had screamed. You had cried out prayers to gods you didn’t believe in, slammed your fists against the ground in desperation, hoping your pleas would be heard—that the System would reappear.

But it had all been in vain.

By leaving his world, you had also left behind your abilities as a Hunter—or a Player.

All that remained were memories and the emptiness in your heart, proof that you had ever been part of that world—that his warmth, his fingers intertwined with yours, the joy in your heart when he laughed—it had all been real.

Eventually, after weeks of unbearable pain, you managed to pull yourself back together.

You pushed the dark thoughts aside and tried for a fresh start.

You got a job, found an affordable place to live, and finally felt like you had regained a sliver of control over your life. Things were getting better—just a little. But every now and then, the memories caught up with you. The questions crept in: How was he doing? Were he and Hae-In happy now, while you were still mourning someone who was never truly yours?

And today, on your "anniversary," the weight of those memories was especially crushing.

You flinched as something cold brushed against your cheek, snapping you back to reality.

The dull music that had filled your ears became sharp and clear again.

Your head jerked to the side, where a glass filled with dark brown liquid hovered inches from your face. Behind it was the concerned face of your best—and only—friend, as well as your roommate: Nika.

Her lavender-colored eyes studied you with a mixture of worry and exasperation.

“You’ve got that look again,” she said, her voice loud and direct as she slid onto the barstool next to you.

“What look?” you asked, taking the glass from her hand. The amber liquid inside swirled lazily as you turned it in your hand.

“The ‘I don’t belong here, someone save me’ look,” she replied with a faint smirk, taking a deep sip of her own drink.

“What are you thinking about this time?” she asked, setting her glass down on the counter with a dull thud.

You knew you couldn’t tell her the truth. She was aware of your heartbreak—though you had spared her the details—but she hated it when you wasted even a single thought on him.

After all, it was Nika who had painstakingly put you back together, who had offered you a place to stay after you confessed you’d been sleeping in a rundown motel.

You had been nothing more than coworkers, yet she had taken you in.

She had seen through your sadness, the pain you carried with you—the nightmares that haunted you, the lack of sleep, and how little you left the apartment. Eventually, she’d had enough and confronted you, practically dragging you out of the house.

At first, you resisted, but the sobering realization that you could now drink yourself into oblivion again since your hunters’ powers were gone, had quickly changed your mind. So much so that even Nika occasionally worried about your drinking habits.

Apparently, your “it’s nothing” had taken too long, because her piercing gaze told you she wasn’t buying it.

“You can’t be serious,” she said, letting out a heavy sigh—as though your pain were her own. You understood why. In moments like this, you felt so small again, like you’d made no progress, like the pain had never truly gone away and happiness was something you’d never feel again.

“I’m sorry, it’s just… it’s been a year now. The melancholy kind of sneaks up on you,” you admitted, offering her an apologetic smile.

“I get it—you loved him, yada yada. But life moves on. We’re young. We’re hot. He didn’t deserve you anyway. I mean, look at you.”

Her voice brimmed with confidence, the complete opposite of your own. She was strong, self-assured—a little reckless, sometimes abrasive, but her heart was always in the right place.

Her enthusiasm was infectious, and despite yourself, you couldn’t help but laugh.

“It’s time you finally realize what you’re worth. I mean, guys hit on you all the time. Grab one and have some fun. Or reject them—that’s fun too,” she said with a playful grin before downing the rest of her drink in one gulp.

Then she grabbed your hand.

“Come on, we’re going dancing,” she declared, pulling you off the stool.

“Wait,” you protested, but she shot you a knowing look.

Her grin widened as you downed your own drink in one go, relishing the burning sensation before letting her drag you to the dance floor.

Maybe she was right. At some point, you had to let go. Jin Woo was your past, a closed chapter in your story.

Maybe it was time to try something new.

-‘๑’-

You felt the cold wall against your back as two strong hands gently but firmly pushed you backward, and you instinctively wrapped your hands around his neck.

Perhaps you had followed Nika’s advice and gotten involved with something… or rather someone, whose hands were now sliding under your black dress, leaving a warm tingling on your skin. Whether it was the alcohol this time, or if you simply wanted to prove to yourself that you were finally over Jin-Woo – you had no idea. But his hands on your skin made you feel desired again, something you hadn’t felt in a long time. Even if it was just a quick fling, right here in this moment, it felt good, even though the icy cold grazed your bare skin because you had left your jacket in the coat check.

His warm breath brushed against your neck, and you could clearly feel how your body wanted to give in.

At least, until the moment when his lips were only a few centimeters away from yours, and you wanted to close your eyes.You jolted upright as a familiar feeling coursed through your body, snapping your attention away. Your head whipped to the side, toward the source of the aura.

It couldn’t be—it was impossible.

And yet, you had felt it.

Mana. Nearby.

There was no mistaking it. That distinct surge of a mana stream—something you thought you’d never feel again.

That spark was enough to reignite something within you, something you had thought long dead.

Hope.

Hope that you might see him again. That you could apologize. Say all the things you’d never allowed yourself to say. Could it really be?

“Are you okay?”

The black-haired man in front of you had stopped immediately, concern in his striking green eyes.

You stared at him, unable to form a coherent thought as the sensation consumed you, blotting out everything else for a fleeting moment.

“I’m sorry, I…” you began, disentangling yourself from him, unable to meet his gaze.

You didn’t owe him anything—not really—but you wouldn’t have let this happen if you’d known it would end like this.

He was probably angry—disappointed at the very least. Bracing yourself for the worst, you were surprised when no harsh words came.

Instead, he simply nodded, understanding in his eyes, and stepped back, releasing you.

“It’s okay. You don’t need to explain,” he said gently, his green eyes following you as you began to turn away.

“Thank you,” you whispered before rushing off in the direction of the mana stream.

The sky above was clear, dotted with stars. It was late December, and the temperature had plummeted below freezing.

Your lungs burned, and the cold lashed at your exposed skin, but you didn’t slow down. You couldn’t risk losing this chance, couldn’t make the same mistake again.

Tears welled in your eyes as Jin-Woo’s face filled your mind—his warm smile, the one that had always sent butterflies through your stomach.

No. You wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

You rounded a corner into a dark alley and came to an abrupt halt, gasping for breath. Your exhalations formed small clouds in the freezing air as your heart pounded like a drum in your chest. Blood rushed through your veins as you scanned the shadows ahead.

You barely noticed the biting cold. Your eyes were locked on the figure hidden in the darkness.

For a moment, you bent over, bracing your hands on your thighs as you caught your breath.

-‘๑’-

“What do you mean, she’s gone?!”

The white-haired man’s voice rang out sharply over the car’s speakerphone, his focus fixed on the road ahead.

The voice on the other end was trembling, frantic.

“I—I don’t know. Oh god, it’s my fault. I told her she should—”

“Calm down. It’s not your fault,” Hide interrupted, his voice steady but his body tense. Jin-Woo, sitting in the passenger seat, could clearly see the strain in the way Hide gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles whitening, his eyes darting nervously. Still, his voice remained calm—for his sister’s sake.

“Take a deep breath, Nika. I’m coming to pick you up, okay? We’ll find her. I promise,” Hide said reassuringly.

A small, muffled sound of agreement came from the other end of the line before the call ended. Hide exhaled heavily, running a hand over his forehead.

Jin-Woo had been staring out the window in silence, his thoughts a tangled mess, his gaze fixed on the blur of passing buildings.

He was still in Seoul, but something was wrong. He had no connection to his Shadows, no access to his abilities. The System had gone silent, leaving an ominous knot in his stomach. He felt weaker than he ever had before—even weaker than when he was an E-Rank.

Had he made a mistake?

The white-haired man—Hide—was the one who had almost run him over. Out of guilt, he had insisted on giving Jin-Woo a ride so he wouldn’t have to walk all the way home. But their route had taken an unexpected detour when Hide received the call.

“I need to make a quick stop. I hope that’s okay,” Hide said apologetically, glancing over at Jin-Woo.

“It’s fine,” Jin-Woo replied quietly, his eyes still fixed on the dark street ahead.

Hide wasn’t much of a talker, which Jin-Woo appreciated. But now, perhaps sensing the tension, maybe it was time to break the Silence.

“Mind if I ask what’s going on?” Jin-Woo asked, his gaze finally shifting to the driver.

Hide leaned back slightly in his seat, rubbing his forehead with the back of his hand. A half-hearted chuckle escaped his lips.

“My sister and her friend went out. Apparently, they got separated. Probably nothing serious,” he replied, stepping harder on the gas.

Jin-Woo nodded slightly. That sounded exhausting. Thank goodness Jinha wasn’t into partying—it would’ve been a headache he didn’t need.

By breaking several traffic laws, the white-haired man managed to get them to their destination quickly.

Hide slammed on the brakes and parked the car by the roadside when he spotted his sister.

She stood at the entrance of the club, neon signs casting colorful reflections on the ground. A cigarette dangled between her lips, and she held [Y/N]’s jacket in her arms—retrieved from the coat check.

Her eyes darted nervously, scanning her surroundings. The moment she saw her twin brother’s car, she ran toward it as Hide stepped out.

Jin-Woo watched the scene unfold through the side window, clearly hearing their exchange thanks to the slightly ajar driver’s door.

Hide placed his hands on his sister’s shoulders, speaking to her in a calm, soothing tone. The resemblance between the two was striking—save for their height and gender, they were unmistakably twins.

“Take it easy. Start by telling me what happened,” Hide said, his voice steady. His sister stumbled over her words as she tried to explain.

“She was so down again, so I told her to relax and have some fun. I should’ve kept a closer eye on her, but the guy seemed so nice…” she trailed off, the glowing cigarette in her hand entirely forgotten.

Jin-Woo, sitting silently in the car, wondered what kind of strange drama he’d stumbled into. His musings were interrupted when the white-haired girl suddenly bolted.

A young, black-haired man had just exited the club, and she charged toward him.

“You! Tell me where she is!” she demanded, her tone sharp as she nearly leaped at him. The startled man raised his hands defensively.

“Whoa, take it easy,” he said, taking a step back. Before she could get closer, Hide intervened, holding her back.

“Calm down, Nika,” he said, though she fought against his grip.

“That’s the guy! He went outside with [Y/N]!” she exclaimed.

Jin-Woo’s eyes widened at the sound of your name. A sharp, unbearable ache tore through his chest as vivid memories of you filled his mind. Your radiant [E/C] eyes, your angelic smile—the one he had loved so deeply.

Your voice echoed in his head, louder and more persistent the longer you were gone. How many times had he thrown himself into battles, eschewing his shadows, because your silhouette seemed to appear in his mind when adrenaline coursed through him? You had given him strength, even in your absence.

Regret burned through him—leaving you, failing to reach out, being so selfish.

No. It couldn’t be you. He convinced himself it was just someone with the same name.

But his fragile hope shattered when the black-haired man responded to a question Jin-Woo hadn’t caught:

“Oh… You mean the little one? [H/C] hair, [E/C] eyes?”

Without thinking, Jin-Woo’s hand shot to the door handle, and he stepped out.

Hide noticed Jin-Woo from the corner of his eye, his head slightly lowered. Despite his calm demeanor, his posture was tense.

“Where is she?” Jin-Woo’s voice cut through the air like icy arrows, forcing the dark-haired man to turn his attention away from the white-haired woman beside him. She, too, turned to look at Jin-Woo.

“Who are you?” The dark-haired man’s green eyes darted to Jin-Woo, who immediately grabbed him by the collar, yanking him forward.

“Tell me where she is,” Jin-Woo demanded, his voice carrying the weight of his former power as the Shadow Monarch, as though he could crush the man in an instant.

“Hey—calm down,” Hide said, startled by the sudden shift in Jin-Woo’s demeanor. But Jin-Woo ignored him completely.

“Whoa, take it easy! I didn’t do anything to her,” the man stammered, raising his hands to show he had no intention of fighting.

“We just... messed around a little. I didn’t know she had a boyfriend,” he added, apologetically misreading the situation.

Jin-Woo’s eyes widened at his words. Pain pierced his chest at the mere thought of you having any sort of involvement with this man. Anger flared at the idea of him even touching you.

“Besides,” the man continued, “she blew me off before anything serious happened. She ran off like she’d been chased”

The dark-haired man was about Jin-Woo’s height and likely much stronger. A fight without Jin-Woo’s powers would not end in his favor. The only reason the situation hadn’t escalated was the stranger’s defensive stance.

For a brief moment, Jin-Woo’s grip on the man’s collar tightened, his gaze piercing. But the sincerity in the man’s voice was evident, so Jin-Woo reluctantly let go.

“Who the hell even ARE you?!” the white-haired woman snapped, her lavender eyes burning with intensity. She had just been released by her brother and now glared at Jin-Woo.

When Jin-Woo looked at her, realization struck within her. His Appearance fitted the one [Y/N] gave her.

“YOU!” she spat, pointing an accusatory finger mere inches from his face.

“Do you even know how much you hurt her? How much she suffered because of you?!” Her voice trembled with fury as she threw the rhetorical question at him. She wasn’t waiting for an answer; her anger didn’t need one.

“How dare you show up here after a whole year?!”

Jin-Woo held her gaze, unflinching, but for the first time in a long while, he felt powerless. It wasn’t just his lack of strength – no, her rage overwhelmed him, her emotions exposing just how much you meant to her.

He stared at her coolly, but her words cut through him like a thousand tiny knives. What had he done? What on earth had happened?

The thought of how you must have felt had already cost him countless sleepless nights. But now, faced with the real consequences of his neglect and selfishness, it hit him harder than ever before.

Suddenly, the Architect’s words made sense – how he had said you’d left willingly.

Jin-Woo froze. His stomach churned, a dreadful feeling settling deep within him.

He had followed the Architect’s trail to stop him, but by the time he arrived, the Architect was gone – and now, so were you. It couldn’t be a coincidence. He had to find you before he did.

The guilt and regret eating away at him wouldn’t ease as long as he knew you were safe. But the guilt he’d feel if something happened to you? That would destroy him.

He took a sharp breath, shoving aside the rising panic that crept into his entirely human body.

“Stay out of this. I’ll find her,” he said, turning to leave. But a rough grip stopped him mid-step.

“Wait!” the white-haired woman barked. Her voice was firm, but she let go of his coat as soon as he turned toward the direction the dark-haired man had pointed out.

Jin-Woo tuned out her loud protests, vanishing into the streets. His steps quickened.

At least his physical conditioning hadn’t failed him. Mana or not, his rigorous training paid off.

He sprinted through the dark streets, his breath forming clouds in the icy air as his sharp eyes scanned his surroundings. It was 2 a.m., and the streets were deserted. The dark night sky stretched endlessly above the city, stars visible despite the light pollution. But Jin-Woo didn’t notice.

His heart pounded wildly in his chest, his palms sweaty. With every passing minute, the panic threatening to overwhelm him transformed into fear, clouding his rational thoughts. He couldn’t think straight at the idea of something happening to you

You were strong – he knew that. He’d fought beside you. But in this world, where neither of you seemed to have powers, and with no knowledge of your current condition, anything could happen.

And it would all be his fault. He could live with he blame that he left you – that he hurted your feelings. But he would never be able to forgive himself if something happened to you.

He froze when he heard a muffled scream and felt a brief flicker of mana. His head snapped toward the source, and he pivoted on his heel, his body instinctively going on high alert.

“Please, just hold on a little longer, [Y/N],” he muttered, his feet carrying him in the direction of the mana surge.

-‘๑’-

Breathless, you stared at the shadowy figure stepping out of the darkness.

Could it really be him?

“Jin-Woo?” you whispered, your hoarse voice barely audible.

But your hopes shattered when a tall figure stepped into the dim streetlight.

It was a man, perhaps in his early to mid-thirties. His hair gleamed a fiery orange, and his dark red eyes sent a shiver down your spine.

Your hand instinctively clutched your aching chest, the old wounds flaring at the realization that it wasn’t Jin-Woo.

How foolish you felt – incredibly foolish. You’d run here as fast as you could, all because of a feeling. A naive hope.

A hope that the unrealistic scenario you’d played out in your head thousands of times might actually come true.

That you’d get your happy ending – or at least the chance to explain yourself, to cast off the burden of guilt and regret weighing on your shoulders.

Why had you been so unbelievably stupid? Hadn’t you learned anything? Who else but you would be foolish enough to run through the streets in the middle of the night, dressed lightly, with no phone – all because of a feeling?

Your body trembled, the cold raising goosebumps on your skin. You swallowed back your tears, lowering your head.

It suddenly felt like every ounce of strength had drained from your body.

,,Disappointed?’’, the voice rang into your ear.

"Uh... uhm, sorry. I was expecting someone else," you said, feeling a little embarrassed as the stranger approached you with slow, deliberate steps. But...

You looked at him, and the smile on his lips sent a shiver down your spine. Who was he?

Something about his presence felt familiar, yet you couldn't sense any Mana from him. Still, you were certain he had been the source, he seemed... out of place, almost inhuman.

"Oh, don’t tell me you don’t recognize me?" he asked with feigned surprise, glancing down at himself as though he were just now noticing his appearance. His hands reached for a strand of his orange hair, which he stroked thoughtfully with his thumb.

"Fascinating. I didn’t expect to get such a realistic body," he said, his red eyes locking onto yours again.

Your confusion seemed to amuse him. What was he talking about?

"Come on, [Y/N], use that little brain of yours," he laughed, his steps slow and deliberate as his red eyes gleamed at you challenging.

No matter how hard you thought, you couldn’t make any connection. He knew your Name…

He was now standing in front of you, looking down with that same unsettling smile.

Clearly, he had grown tired of waiting. His red eyes sparkled, and his voice distorted as he spoke:

"Do you really want to leave the game? Yes or no?" he asked playfully.

Your eyes widened in pure shock at his words, at the distortion in his voice—it sounded exactly like...

"The Architect?"

Your voice trembled as you voiced the thought aloud. That couldn’t be.

The sheer shock on your face seemed to excite him. He relished every ounce of your fear and disbelief.

"Bingo!!! But you can call me by my real name. I think it’s only fair, given your naive foolishness saved my life. Thanks for that, by the way," he said casually, his voice dripping with mockery as you stared at him, dumbfounded, unable to process his words.

This couldn’t—mustn’t—be true. Kandiaru, the Architect of the System—the one Jin-Woo had eliminated after Ashborn denied him access to the System. How in the world had he ended up in your world? Did this mean Jin-Woo had lost? How had the timeline gone so awry when you’d gone to such lengths to prevent exactly that? You didn’t even want to imagine what this meant for Jin-Woo.

"How—" you began, but he cut you off immediately.

"Oh, do you think it was just a coincidence that you ended up in our world?" he asked with a smirk, disdain evident in his voice.

"I needed someone knowledgeable—but not too knowledgeable. And your disgustingly kind heart? That was just the icing on the cake," he said, his fingers gripping your chin and tilting your head up, forcing you to look at him.

"Through your world, I saw my future and devised a Plan B to ensure I’d survive."

Slowly but surely, his facade of calm began to crack. His piercing gaze and the unhinged grin spreading across his face triggered every instinct in you to flee.

The alcohol clouded your thoughts, but even in this state, you felt a shiver run down your spine—a strong sense of danger.

You needed to run. Now. But your body wouldn’t move.

"It was only a matter of time before your love for him forced you to make a choice. After all, there’s no future for you and him," he continued as you stood there, helpless to do anything but listen.

"And with that, you weakened him—severely. Longing is such an ugly emotion, isn’t it?" he whispered, pulling your face closer to his. His grip was unyielding, and any resistance you managed was useless.

The gears in your head began to turn. He had... used you from the very beginning? Known all along that you’d return with a broken heart, leaving Jin-Woo vulnerable?

No, he hadn’t just known—he’d banked on it. He had meticulously planned everything, using you as a pawn for his own survival.

"If it were up to me, I’d have handled things differently, but it was hard enough keeping my intentions hidden from Ashborn. Truly tedious," he muttered, clearly irritated at the thought of the Shadow Monarch, who had tasked him with finding a suitable human.

"But no matter. I can just as easily plunge your world into chaos," he laughed, gazing up at the dark night sky—until your hand gripped his wrist, pulling at his sleeve.

His laughter stopped abruptly as his eyes darted down to you, his head tilting to the side.

"Hmm?" he asked, amused by your defiance.

Your actions were no longer rational, driven instead by a simmering rage. Deep within, it boiled and churned. All the pain and effort... for nothing?

"Oh no, did I make you angry?" he taunted, mockery lacing his words.

"You’re a filthy bastard," you spat, your [E/C] eyes glaring fiercely at him. You couldn’t hold back anymore.

For a brief moment, Kandiaru looked surprised before bursting into laughter.

"Oh, oh, such harsh words from such a pretty mouth."

He leaned down, his hot breath brushing against your face as his fingers dug painfully into your chin. His eyes roamed over your form, taking in your exposed skin and the black dress that hugged your curves.

"I can see what he sees in you," he said with a wicked grin.

That was the last straw. Without thinking, you swung at him. Your fist collided with his open palm as he released your chin to block your weak punch.

He gripped your hand tightly, the pressure forcing your fingers to ache as you let out a pained gasp and dropped to your knees.

"Know your place, human. The only reason you were ever strong was because of my power—but here, you’re nothing. Just another insignificant human among many."

The playful tone in his voice vanished as if a switch had been flipped. His gaze turned icy, his voice cold as he looked down at you.

Your bare knees scraped against the rough asphalt. He eased the pressure slightly—enough to avoid breaking your fingers—but his words burned themselves into your mind.

He was right. You had no real power, no special abilities. You were just a human. A powerless, ordinary human.

He let go of you, obviously not wanting to deal with you any longer. As he turned his back to you, every fiber of your being screamed at you to stop him—no matter how.

“Wait,” your voice trembled slightly as you got back on your feet, the cool night wind brushing against your bare legs.

He sighed, clearly annoyed by your persistence, but turned his head slightly in your direction. “What now?” he asked gruffly, throwing you a sidelong glance.

“What… happened to Jin Woo?” you asked then. You had to know—had to know if he was okay. He couldn’t have lost to him. That just couldn’t be true.

The Architect paused for a moment, as if thinking. Then, a smile returned to his lips. He could tell you anything, and you would believe him.

“Oh, right. I should pass on his last words,” he said, his voice growing quieter.

“Although… he never got the chance to say them.”

Click.

His words flipped a switch in you. Overwhelmed with anger, you charged at him. Every part of your body wanted to tear him apart, even though you knew you didn’t stand a chance.

With a loud scream, you stormed toward him, your hands clenched into fists—your body tense.

“Oh, man,” Kandiaru muttered, rolling his eyes as he lazily prepared to block your feeble attack. But to both his and your surprise, your punch carried far more weight than the last one.

So much so that he stumbled back a step, staring at you in confusion.

It was nothing compared to your former strength, but the fury and adrenaline gave you power. And apparently, his body wasn’t as strong as the one he had in his own world.

“You’re really starting to get on my nerves,” the Architect growled, his expression darkening with irritation. He was slowly but surely losing his composure.

“I really hoped I wouldn’t have to kill you,” he sighed, reaching behind him.

A shimmering dagger appeared, its blade catching the light of the streetlamp as he moved.

Your eyes widened at the sight—it bore a resemblance to Baruka’s dagger, but this one was deep red.

“That’s enough,” he said, and in an instant, the weapon in his hand began to pulsate. The mana flowing from it was the same as the one that had drawn you here in the first place—but now, it was far stronger.

He didn’t give you time to think. He lunged at you.

Unlike his strength, his speed wasn’t inhuman, which allowed you to dodge his strike.

The blade grazed your cheek, and your back hit a wall painfully as you tried to evade.

His crimson eyes locked onto you, the grin returning to his face as he saw the fear in your eyes.

Your heart pounded wildly in your chest, terror flooding your body as you stumbled to the side. The dagger embedded itself into the wall where your head had just been.

He really intended to kill you—out here, in the open!

Blood trickled down your cheek as you broke into a sprint, his footsteps echoing right behind you.

“Come on, [Y/N], don’t make this harder than it has to be,” his manic voice called out from behind, steadily catching up.

Your legs grew heavy as you ran through the alleys, panic gripping your throat. Was there really no one around? No one to help?

The fear was suffocating. The walls to your left and right hemmed you in—you had no choice but to keep running straight.

But his steps drew closer, and when he caught up to you, you saw the dagger flash toward you from the corner of your eye.

Your life flashed before your eyes—the last image in your mind was that of the black-haired Hunter.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered faintly as your foot twisted, causing you to lose balance.

Resigned to your fate, you were weightless for a brief moment—only a fraction of a second. You squeezed your eyes shut, bracing for the pain.

But the pain never came.

Instead, your body collided with something hard and warm.

An arm wrapped around your waist, pressing you tightly against the warm figure in front of you.

Your cheek rested against soft fabric, beneath which a warm body rose and fell with irregular breaths.

“Get your hands off her.”

Your entire body reacted to the voice. The chest you were pressed against vibrated as he spoke, and your eyes flew open.

Tears welled up in your eyes, darting upward.

The familiar scent filled your nose, the warmth spreading through your chilled body instantly.

It was him.

You wanted to look at him, to confirm that he wasn’t an illusion—but he held you firmly in place.

Warm blood ran down his arm, dripping onto the ground beneath him. The sharp pain coursed through his entire arm, but it was nothing compared to the relief he felt as he held your body against his. The warmth that flooded him as he inhaled your scent. His body had longed for this for so long. The deep hole in his chest stopped aching.

Kandiaru didn’t hesitate for a second. He pulled the dagger free and jumped back several steps,

“How did you—?” Kandiaru began, disbelief laced in his voice.

Jin Woo, however, simply glared at him darkly, his eyes narrowed to slits and his arms protectively wrapped around you. Not for a second did he let any weakness show, despite his lack of abilities.

Only when the orange-haired man retreated slightly did Jin Woo turn his half-focused attention to you.

“Are you alright?”

The tone of his voice, directed at you, was gentle and warm. You had almost forgotten how it felt when he spoke to you like that.

You pulled away slightly to look at him, your [E/C] eyes brimming with tears.

He hadn’t changed a bit—only his eyes hinted at the deep sorrow and suffering your disappearance had caused.

In contrast, you had changed a lot. You had lost weight, your cheekbones were more pronounced, and the dark circles under your eyes spoke volumes Jin Woo didn’t need to read to see that you hadn’t fared any better than he had.

So many sleepless nights, so much unnecessary pain, so much longing and desire that had haunted you both equally.

His hands now rested on your shoulders, and you noticed the blood on his arm. Worry surged through you, but the gentle pressure he applied—wordlessly telling you it was okay—brought your attention back to his face.

All at once, everything came rushing back—all the words you had never been able to say.

“Jin Woo, I—”

You wanted to beg for his forgiveness, to tell him how terribly you had behaved and how foolish you had been.

The black-haired man interrupted you with his index finger pressed gently to your lips, silencing you softly. His lips curved into a faint smile.

His eyes told you everything you needed to know in that moment. Even after all this time, you still understood him without words.

A hot tear rolled down your cheek, dampening it before dripping off your chin. You nodded in understanding.

It could wait. For now, the most important thing was getting both of you out of here in one piece.

The Architect, meanwhile, had quickly recovered after realizing that Jin Woo no longer radiated any mana. In this world, he was weaker than even an E-Rank.

“Jin-Woo Sung,” Kandiaru called, his eyes flickering with pure murderous intent as he lunged forward, dagger in hand, its blade pulsating.

“It’s my pleasure to cut you to pieces,” he laughed as he charged at you both.

Jin Woo tensed and pushed you behind him, ready to somehow fend off the attack. His reflexes might no longer be those of an S-Rank Hunter, but he still had close combat experience and enough muscle strength.

The energy radiating from the blade was palpable in the air—electrifying and oppressive.

Everything happened so fast, you had no time to react. The black-haired man shoved you aside with gentle force, pushing you out of the line of fire.

You stumbled but managed to catch yourself in time to avoid falling.

Wide-eyed with fear, you spun around.

Jin Woo had deflected the attack with a skillful move, pushing the orange-haired man’s hand upward at the right moment.

Tension gripped your body, and you sucked in a sharp breath.

Your head darted around, searching for ANYTHING that could help you.

Jin Woo could do nothing but block the Architect’s relentless attacks. Kandiaru struck with brutal force, slashing with the dagger in his other hand.

More cuts appeared on the Hunter’s skin as he was forced back. Kandiaru gave him no reprieve, and you could see sweat gleaming on Jin Woo’s forehead. His movements slowed as the fight dragged on. He couldn’t hold out much longer.

Jin Woo slammed into one of the parked cars as the Architect grabbed him by the throat and threw him. Jin Woo was hopelessly outmatched.

Blood clung to his forehead as Jin Woo’s eyes briefly flicked toward you before focusing again on the orange-haired man, whose wild grin remained as his red eyes sparkled with malice.

He struggled against the grip on his neck, which tightened, choking the air out of him as Kandiaru pressed him harder against the vehicle.

A sharp pain shot through the back of his head, and a choking sound escaped his throat as the lack of oxygen began to affect his brain. His vision blurred, and he felt the burning in his lungs.

This was it. For the third time, he was losing to this monster, but this time, it would be the last.

Kandiaru raised his weapon, holding Jin Woo firmly in place.

“It’s been a pleasure,” he laughed, ready to strike, when suddenly his grip loosened, and he was shoved to the side.

You had thrown yourself against him with all your might, sending him staggering.

Your body hit the cold asphalt hard, scraping your hands and knees as a searing pain shot through your arm. Kandiaru also met the ground—the force of your impact had hit him with full strength.

Jin Woo’s lungs filled with air again, adrenaline pumping blood through his body. Suddenly, he could see again, gasping for breath.

The dark red dagger clattered across the cold ground, sliding several meters away, but the Architect quickly scrambled to his feet and grabbed his weapon.

“You damn whore,” he growled, his psychotic grin replaced by pure rage, his focus now on you.

Jin Woo had also gotten back to his feet, his entire body aching with pain. He took a brief moment to overcome the stabbing headache.

This human body severely limited him, but his will to protect you drove him forward.

You were a good distance away from him, and with his battered body, every step felt like twenty.

You gasped in pain, your knees burning like fire and refusing to cooperate as Kandiaru set his sights on you.

Fear flooded your senses, robbing you of reason and freezing you in place as the Architect charged at you, dagger in hand, its tip glowing brightly with small bolts of lightning sparking from it.

“[Y/N]!” Jin Woo’s sharp cry reached your ears as he realized he wouldn’t make it in time to save you. His voice trembled as he stretched out his hand toward you—but it was in vain.

You didn’t even have time to scream. All you could do was reflexively close your eyes.

The faint hum of an engine barely reached your ears.

An ear-piercing screech enveloped your body, bracing itself for incoming pain—but none came.

Jin Woo stood frozen, his wide eyes trembling as his hand quivered at what had just unfolded before him.

For the moment, nothing else mattered to him except you. You were still sitting motionless on the ground.

‘’[Y/N!]’’, you didn’t react.

Without hesitation, he hobbled toward you, dropping to his knees and placing his hands on your shoulders, shaking you gently.

“[Y/N]!”

No response.

“Can you hear me?!” Jin Woo’s usually calm voice trembled with fear. Unknowingly, he held his breath.

Finally, your eyes fluttered open, and your [E/C] irises met his stormy gray ones. The tension visibly melted from his face as he let out a shaky breath. Relief washed over him like a tidal wave, but you still said nothing.

You blinked a few times, dazed and confused.

“What?” you whispered faintly, your mind struggling to process what had happened.

Jin Woo’s worried expression softened further, and without warning, he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against his chest.

“I… I thought…” His voice cracked, and whatever words he meant to say dissolved into silence. The walls he had painstakingly built around his heart during your absence crumbled entirely. His body trembled, and his embrace tightened.

Never in all the time you had known Jin Woo had you seen him so consumed by fear.

As the shock in your own body subsided, you, too, began to sob uncontrollably. Your hands clung to the fabric of his black shirt as you returned his embrace.

The two of you clung to each other like drowning souls, finding solace only in each other.

Abruptly, Jin Woo pulled back. Your tear-filled eyes questioned the sudden separation until he cupped your face with his hands and pressed his lips to yours.

Finally.

He had waited too long for this moment, envisioned countless scenarios where it might happen, and convinced himself repeatedly that it had to be perfect. But now he understood—it didn’t need to be perfect.

The moment was messy, far from ideal. You were both battered and bruised, covered in blood and sweat, adrenaline still coursing through your veins.

And yet, that kiss was the most beautiful thing Jin Woo had ever experienced.

All the longing, the yearning, and the love he had carried for you poured into that single, imperfect kiss.

Tears streamed down your face once more, but this time they were tears of joy.

It felt as though his love seeped into the cracks of your heart, slowly but surely filling every void and healing every wound.

You only broke apart when a voice disrupted the moment.

A quick exchange of glances was all you managed before both your heads turned toward the source of the sound.

“HOLY SHIT, NIKA! WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO?!” a male voice yelled as a car door swung open.

Only now did you notice the lifeless body lying on the ground, orange hair splayed in all directions.

Hide tugged at his hair, staring in wide-eyed disbelief at the unmoving figure in front of his car, then at his sister climbing out of the driver’s seat.

“Dear brother,” Nika began in a calm, angelic tone, inhaling deeply.

“DID YOU MISS THE PART WHERE HE WAS THREATENING [Y/N] WITH A FREAKING GLOWING KNIFE?!” she screamed, her tone switching to pure outrage as she glared at her brother.

“YOU CAN’T JUST MOW HIM DOWN!” Hide yelled back, utterly floored by her reckless driving and lack of judgment.

,,OF COURSE I CAN, DIDN'T YOU SEE??!'', she yelled back.

“WE’RE BOTH GOING TO JAIL! How the hell do you plan to explain this to the cops?!” he paced frantically, running his hands through his hair.

But Nika ignored his panicked questions entirely, her focus shifting as she spotted you and Jin Woo. Without hesitation, she sprinted toward you.

“[Y/N]!!!” she cried, her voice thick with emotion, throwing herself to the ground beside you and wrapping her arms tightly around your neck. Jin Woo had to shuffle aside to avoid the collision.

She clung to you desperately, sobbing uncontrollably.

“I’m so sorry,” she wept, pulling you even closer.

Your tear-filled eyes drifted to Jin Woo, who gave you a soft, knowing smile.

You felt nothing but overwhelming gratitude that everyone was safe.

-‘๑’-

“Take good care of her,” Nika said firmly, releasing you from her embrace and shooting Jin Woo a stern look.

He paused briefly, his gray eyes locking onto yours before he gave a gentle nod.

“With my life.”

A faint smile tugged at your lips as a blush crept onto your cheeks. Jin Woo’s sweetness still left you in awe, and it was hard to grasp that all this love was directed at you.

It had been a week since Jin Woo had entered your world, and now it was time to return home.

The Architect’s body had not been human; it dissolved into mana before merging with his dagger upon his death. That blade turned out to be the System, manifest in an object, and it allowed Jin Woo to create a Gate back to the Hunter world.

Explaining this to Nika and Hide had been…challenging. Even after witnessing it themselves, disbelief lingered in their expressions. Without the firsthand evidence, they might have deemed you insane.

As for destiny? The events that unfolded proved that the System’s claim of inevitability wasn’t absolute. Its deletion was imminent, and you now believed you could shape your own story.

Jin Woo, however, wasn’t leaving anything to chance.

He refused to let you out of his sight, constantly staying close and cherishing every moment together. “For all the lost time,” he would say.

Now, you both stood before the Gate Jin Woo had conjured. The Twins in front of you.

“Go on, before I start bawling,” Nika said, wiping at her teary eyes. Leaving her behind hurt, but you had to return. There was still so much left to do, so many monsters to fight.

What mattered most, however, was that you were together again.

You nodded, biting your lip to hold back tears.

“Shall we?” Jin Woo extended his hand.

Without hesitation, you intertwined your fingers with his, meeting his eyes. His reassuring squeeze grounded you.

Together, you stepped through the Gate, returning to the Hunter world.

[Welcome back, Players.]

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ! ꨄ︎ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ Holy shit i finally did it. It took so much thinking and rewriting because i wasn't happy - there were so many things that changed during the writing process. I am not fully satisfied, but i hope you like the second part as well! :)

As i already mentioned in my last Post - there will be a few side Stories, adapting this Two Shot~

Thank you for all your support! likes, reblogs & comments or just reading <3 .'*•.¸♡ I really appreciate it <3 ♡¸.•*'

♡¸.•*' ˋ°•*⁀✎ 𝑢𝑡𝑜𝑝𝑖𝑎

@phisen @bunniotomia @mysterylilycheeta @uchihaclan27

#jin woo x reader #solo leveling x reader #fanfic #angst #solo leveling #jinwoo sung x reader #shadow monarch #one shot #jin woo sung

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brittle-doughie · 3 months ago

Note

BRITTLE

I want Customer cookie so bad.

(btw Cobalt cookie is a dude?? Thought he was some kind of mafia girl boss like Capt ice cookie until I hear his voice and gaADDAM)

“Pardon me, fair merchant. You wouldn’t happen to have a Midnight Lotus on you, right?”

Both the Customer Cookie and the Rich Merchant Cookie were surprised by your sudden appearance.

“Ah! Forgive me, but the Midnight Lotus is a rare, special kind of plant! I can only offer it to you if you’re-“

“If I’m a VIP status cookie, I got you. Oh well, I guess the garden in my kingdom will have to incomplete~”

You feigned your disbelief with a wrist to your forehead. The Rich Merchant perked up at the mention of your kingdom.

“Pardon me, but did you say your kingdom?”

“Yep, you heard me right. I’m the ruler of that kingdom, even if I don’t look like the part. I’ll respect your policy, merchant~”

The rich merchant stuttered in his words with your inflection, trying to gather his thoughts in order!

“Wait, y-your majesty! I had no idea you were a ruler, please forgive my mistake. You can have a Midnight Lotus at half the cost!”

“Well well, you changed your tune fast. I won’t pass this up, so I’ll take you on your offer!”

You handed your bag of coins in exchange for the plant, leaving before the merchant realized you still bought the Lotus from him full price.

You took the plant and handed it over to the Customer Cookie, who was shocked to see you just give it to him!

“W-what?! You’re giving the Midnight Lotus to me?”

“Yep, you can have this, I bought it specifically for you.”

Customer Cookie hesitated to look at you and then at the plant, before slowly taking it. He looked at the plant for a bit before a smile dawned on his face.

“T-Thank you, uh…”

“Y/N Cookie.”

“Right, yes! Thank you, Y/N Cookie. I’ll never forget this.”

“You better, that still costed quite a hefty coin!”

You both share a laugh as you parted to head back to Golden Osmanthus Cookie,

Customer Cookie looking at the plant in his hands, before hugging it close to his chest, pink slightly dusting his cheeks.

In a way, the plant reminded him of you…

#brittle answers #cookie run #cookie run x reader #cookie run x you #cr x reader #cookie run kingdom #crk x reader #cookie run kingdom x reader #customer cookie #cr kingdom

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imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul · 6 months ago

Text

The Prince - Chapter Five

A/N: First Sunday without a new hotd episode, how are we feeling? Hopefully, this fic can help fill that hotd void. Once again, thank you so much for all of your comments, likes, and reblogs on the last chapter! I hope you enjoy this one, too <3

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Reader Word Count: 3.6k Synopsis: In Jace's absence, the reader contends with their feelings, finally coming to the realization that these feelings aren't going away.

Tag List: @rinisfruity14, @gaiaea, @rexorangecouny, @burningwitchobject, @brckenmemories, @thenotesapppoet, @elleclairez

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Tension hangs in the air throughout the entire Keep the next morning. As you walk down the halls towards Rhaena’s room, you hear hushed discussions, spot worried faces, and fear slowly creeps over you.

The first thing you hear when you get to Rhaena’s room is her hushed tone saying, “He’ll be fine.” You feel as though you’re intruding on something you shouldn’t be, and try to walk back out, but Baela spots you and waves you in.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” you say.

“You didn’t,” Baela says.

“Is everything alright?”

“There is unrest in the Iron Islands,” Rhaena says. “It seems the Lannisters and a few lords of the Iron Islands have been fighting over territory.”

“It is an uprising,” Baela corrects. “And the queen has sent Jace to attend to it.”

“Tend to it?” you ask quietly, panic icing your body.

“He’s going to be fine,” Rhaena says, looking to her sister.

“I know,” she says softly.

“He might not see any battle,” she says. “We don’t yet know what the status is.” They both look equally concerned for Jace, and you hate that you can’t share your own concern with them.

He had come to your room last night, and with a horrifying realization, you know he was coming to tell you goodbye. He had been trying to tell you he was leaving, and you had denied him.

“He’ll be fine,” you agree aloud, because he is your prince and that’s what everyone must say when the heir is in danger; but also because you need to believe it for yourself, too.

In the coming days, rumors spread. Some claim there is absolutely no warring in the islands, just quarrels between land-hungry lords. Others say it is bloodshed comparable to the peaks of the war. And there are those who declare it is all a ruse to solidify the crown's position.

None of it makes you feel any better. There is, however, the bitter hope inside of you that Lord Blacktyde is somehow involved and might be taken out by an arrow or swing of a sword, if fighting has indeed broke out. But your thoughts can’t rest there for long, so stuck on Jace are they.

You keep playing over what happened in the Dragonpit, how you left things. It seemed the right thing to do, albeit painful. There was no future for you and Jace, giving in to it for even a day would doom you for the rest of your life.

You try to throw yourself into other tasks. You embroider a dress for Jeyne, go to the coast with Rhaena to watch her bond with Morning, and keep your meetings with more suitors.

There is one such suitor, a Ser Swann, who you have met with twice before. He is kind, can sometimes make you laugh, and is by far the best candidate. But when he looks at you, when his hand brushes yours, you feel nothing.

You remember how you clung to Jace in the Dragonpit, the easy way he held you and made you feel safe. Even just the feeling of your hand in his sent a spark through you. You hate to compare the two men, but every interaction with Jace, even just a passing meeting in the hallway, left your heart racing.

During your date with Ser Swann, these thoughts never leave you. Everything he does, you imagine from someone else's lips, someone else's hand. That night, as you lay in bed, you toss and turn. It has been five days since Jacaerys left, and still, you cannot get him out of your thoughts.

Why did you refuse him entry? Why did you drop his hand? Why didn’t you kiss him, just once?

Jace had created plenty of opportunity for the two of you to kiss. He had sat next to you in this very bed, taken care of you, seen you at your lowest, and still he wanted to kiss you. He brought you to spar with him, clearly seeing the way you were longing for him, and kept you close to him, to see if you would finally act. In the gardens and in the Dragonpit, he had held your body to his, kept you safe, and yet, you pushed him away.

What was wrong with you?

He will return from the Iron Islands, you know. You have to believe. But the chance you might have had with him, you fear is quickly dwindling away.

You had told him he would ruin you, if you gave into your desires. But the truth was, he already had ruined you. You know that now. Ser Swann was a perfectly fine gentleman, and you could have been happy with him, if you didn’t know that there was better.

You are ruined for any other man, because every other man is not him.

You get very little sleep that night. When Brigitta comes in the next morning to wake you, you are already up, exhaustion written over your face.

“My lady,” she says, slightly in chaste, but also in concern.

“I’m fine, Brigitta. Nothing a cup of tea won’t fix.” She is silent as she prepares the tea for you, but when she brings it over, there is a note left next to the mug.

“He left that for you,” she says. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted to read it or not, but I think you better.”

“Thank you,” you say, forgetting the tea altogether as you rip open the seal. Brigitta gives you a moment's privacy and goes about getting your outfit ready for the day.

Y/N – I am sorry to leave without saying goodbye. Do not worry for me, I promise I will return safely. I hope that the time I am gone will be enough space for you, as I would very much like to continue our conversation from the Dragonpit, if you’ll grant me such leave.

Yours, Jace

“Are you ready, My Lady?” Brigitta asks. You aren’t sure if she's referring to something in the note, the dress she holds in her hand, or something else, but the letter has given you a new sense of purpose.

“I am.”

As she gets you ready, Brigitta lets you know that the flowers in the gardens have bloomed and recommends that you see them for yourself today. You had forgotten to find a task for the day, and you’re thankful for her idea.

You are making your way towards the gardens, when he comes around the opposite hallway.

“Prince Jacaerys,” you say, stopping abruptly in the hallway. Your knees wobble, nearly knocking you to the floor, seeing him in one piece. “I didn’t realize you had returned.”

“Just,” he says. You take a moment to look him over, checking for any visible injuries.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t see you that night,” you say, nervously fiddling with the sleeves of your gown. Jace frowns at you, frowns at the movement. He glances at the guards following him and nods them away. You watch them slip into the nearest door.

“Don’t apologize,” he says, “You wanted to be left alone.”

“I did say that,” you say, “But if you are heading into dangerous territory, of course I would want to know, want to hear you out,” you say with a shake of your head.

“Needless to remind you, Y/N, I’m a prince,” he says, “Often I am sent to do dangerous things.”

“Of course,” you say with a tight-lipped smile. Sudden frustration fills your bloodstream at his cool demeanor. He has never acted this closed off with you and you aren't sure how to navigate through it. The courage you had felt when you left your room seems to be fading quickly.

“I got your letter,” you say weakly.

“Good,” he says, glancing down at his boots. There is a strange silence, that is so unlike the two of you. He is nervous, angry with with you, or just over his feelings? This behavior from him is so unexpected, you want to run away before you do something embarrassing.

“Well, welcome home, Your Highness,” you say stiffly.

“You sound as though you were worried for me,” he says, before you can turn from him. You meet his eyes, and somewhere in them, you see the Jace you know.

“You are the future of the realm, of course I worry for you,” you say. Jace lets out a tut of laughter, closing some of the distance between the two of you.

“Of course,” he says to himself. “Is that all?” he asks, his eyes locking with yours again.

“What?”

“Is that the only reason you worried?”

“Jace,” you say, your voice barely a breath.

“I hate it when you call me anything other than Jace,” he says with a smile. At the sight of that smile, ridiculously, your breathing turns shallow. You watch Jace’s eyes fall to your chest, watching the rise and fall of your breasts. You realize how close he has gotten to you, how close you’ve allowed him to get.

“I could have died, I very nearly almost did,” he says lowly. Your eyebrows scrunch in worry, and Jace brushes your hair out of your face, his hand cupping your cheek. “Because I know you, I know you must have thought about if I did. You must have thought about regrets, what you would do if you ever saw me again.”

“Jace,” you try again, putting a hand on his chest, partially to push him away, and also to feel him, feel his beating heart. He is right and he knows it. He has grown to know you so well in the last weeks. Every night, you played this moment over in your mind again and again, what you would do when you saw him again.

“Y/N,” he says, just as soft.

“I didn’t worry too much,” you whisper, lying, “You told me you’d return.” Jace’s eyes flick between yours and your lips.

“You believed me?” he asks lowly.

“Yes,” you say, realizing that it was easy. You trust him and believe in him. Up until the Dragonpit, you had truly thought that his feelings were based purely on attraction. But seeing him now, looking into his eyes, you know he was telling the truth. It’s love in his eyes, and a weight lifts off you when you realize the same feeling is inside you, too. You love him, and in that moment, you know that no matter what comes, you want him, for as long as you can have him.

“Was this enough time apart?” he asks with a smile, “I’m not sure I can—”

“Yes,” you say, and before Jace gets the chance to say anything, your lips finally, finally meet his. His lips are soft, and it only takes a moment for him to shake his shock and take control of the kiss. You very nearly moan as he does, seamlessly pinning you against the wall.

Your hands are on his face, in his hair, anything to pull him closer. When his tongue slips into your mouth, you do moan. The sound elicits a similar one from Jace, and he presses you firmer into the wall. His rough hands trail down your sides, gripping your waist, holding you flush against him. In that moment, you would have let him touch you anywhere and everywhere, just to keep him close to you, keep him alive.

A throat clears at the end of the hallway, and you snap back to your senses, breaking away from each other. You take a healthy step back from him and adjust your dress. Jace is breathing heavily, a beautiful smile on his face.

A glance down the hall reveals a white cloak, just a shoulder standing outside of the doorframe. You assume it’s Ser Harrold, thankfully bringing you both to your senses.

You look at Jace and both laugh when his eyes meet yours. He moves closer to you, and takes your hand, placing a gentle, but far too long to be proper, kiss to it. You take a shaky breath at the look in his eyes as he looks up at you.

“I love you,” you say gently. Jace’s eyes widen, and he looks to be in physical pain that he can’t kiss you again. He just smiles and gives your hand a squeeze.

“I’m sorry to have worried you, Lady Y/N,” he says.

“I’m just happy you’ve returned.”

“As am I,” he says. He nods down the hallway, holding out an arm for you. You take it, your pulse quickening at the closeness of your bodies. You look up at him, seeing the smile on his lips, the slight pink tint to them from your kiss.

“I need to see my mother, tell her about my journey,” he says, continuing the walk down the hallway, “But I want to see you as soon as possible. Will you join me for supper tonight? In my quarters.”

“Jace,” you start. He looks down at you, a smile growing on his face.

“Please.”

You can only nod your head. He smiles and breaks from your side, leaving you cold. He kisses your hand once again.

“My chambers, just after sunset,” he says.

“Yes.”

It is dark in his room when you arrive. This shouldn’t surprise you; he invited you after sunset. But in the dark, you aren’t sure what you’ll do. You broke all conduct and kissed him in daylight, with several guards within earshot.

Candles are strewn about his room. Soft light illuminates Jace in the corner, adjusting his shirt nervously in the mirror. In the reflection, he sees you, and a smile grows on his face.

He crosses the room in two strides and rest his hands on your waist. His lips are gentle when they meet yours. You push him off at the first brush, looking around the room anxiously.

“Don’t worry,” he says, tugging at your waist slightly to have you face him. “I dismissed all the servants. Ser Harold is the only one at the door. He has already promised his secrecy.” You let out a sigh, smiling at him as you trace his jawline with your finger. He closes the gap between the two of you again, and you don’t pull away this time.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he says, resting his forehead against yours when he breaks away.

“Me too,” you say with a laugh. Jace kisses you again before taking your hand and leading you over to his table. A small feast is laid out before you. Jace pulls out a chair for you, pushing you in with ease.

“I hope wine is alright,” he says, pouring some into your goblet. “I know the mead we had before didn’t agree with you.”

“Wine is wonderful,” you say, “And I don’t think it was the mead that made me sick.”

“What then?” he asks, sitting across from you.

“Feelings I was trying to fight,” you say.

“You don’t seem to be fighting them anymore."

“I don’t think it’s a battle I can win. Or even want to win," you say, taking a sip of the sweet wine.

“And you came to this realization while I was gone?” he asks, drinking from his own glass. Your eyes watch the movement along his neck greedily.

“Before you left, I said that you would ruin me, if we gave into this feeling between us.”

“I remember,” he says, setting his jaw. You reach across the small table and take his hand, your thumb brushing against his skin.

“But while you were gone, I realized you already had ruined me. Ruined every other man for me. You infiltrated my mind and my heart, Jace. If I can only have you for a day, I’ll take it, rather than live my life with regret.”

“It won’t be just a day," he says, gripping your hand firmly, his eyes wide with emotion.

“I hope so.”

“I am still talking with my mother. We will find a way to keep us together.”

“I believe you,” you say, “But I don’t want to talk about the future anymore, uncertain as it is. I just want to be here with you tonight.”

Fuck, he could stay like this forever: his hands wrapped around your waist, yours on his shoulders, your soft lips locked with his. The evening had progressed to a couch in his chambers – neither of you ready to move to the bed just yet.

He had wanted this for so long, had imagined it a hundred times over. Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine you wanting him just as much. Never did he believe you would love him, too. And never did he imagine that kissing you would feel this good.

Your hand cups his jaw, drawing him closer. Your chest presses against his. He wants to pull you in, wants your bodies to become one, but he reminds himself that this is just the first night. There will be more to come.

“Jace,” you say, breaking away to catch your breath. He is not so eager to break contact. His arms wrap tighter around you, pulling you into his lap.

“Yes?” he says against your neck, his mouth traveling down the slender column. You breathe shakily, your body pressing into his when his tongue glides over the sensitive skin at your collarbone. He hums happily, exploring which parts make you press into him, which make you whimper.

“Jace,” you say again.

“Yes, Y/N?” he says, smiling against your molten skin.

“It’s getting late,” you say, whining when he bites softly, careful to not leave a mark. “I need to get back to my own chambers.”

“But there’s so much I’ve yet to explore,” he says, looking at you. Your pupils are blown wide, a sight that fills him with male satisfaction. He tastes your lips softly, in between smiles.

“Like what?” you ask. A wicked look passes over his face.

“Well,” he says, “Here.” He kisses the hinge of your jaw, relishing the arch of your back at his actions.

“Here.” He bites gently on your ear lobe.

“Jace,” you gasp.

“And I didn’t even get to these,” he says, his hand cupping your breast. “You have no idea how much I love these.”

Despite what you said, you kiss him again, falling back onto the couch as he continues to palm your breasts. His hands move down to your hips, gripping tightly, and holding you flush against him. But never any further than that.

You stay there for a long while. Each time you suggest that you need to leave, Jace manages to convince you to stay. Eventually though, you extract yourself from underneath him. For a moment, you just look at each other, the flushed skin, the clothes that hang awkwardly.

“I love you,” he says, smiling at you as you try to bring some semblance of order to your unruly hair. You look over at him, a soft smile on your own face.

“I’m glad for it,” you say. You stand, tugging at your dress, before presenting yourself to Jace. “How do I look?” you ask.

“Gorgeous,” he says, taking your hand, kissing up your arm.

“I mean,” you say with a laugh, pulling your arm from him, “Do I look presentable?” He stands and looks you over for a long moment, making you shake your head. He snakes his arm around your waist.

“You do,” he says, kissing your lips softly. Your arms wrap around him again, and for a second, he thinks he might convince you to stay. But you hum against his mouth and pull away. Your hand rests on his chest as you catch your breath.

“Stop doing that,” you say with a laugh.

“Doing what?”

“Making me want to stay.”

“Maybe,” he says, gripping your hips, pulling you against him. He knows you can feel how much he wants you, how much he has wanted you all night. “You should just stay.”

“It’s late,” you sigh.

“Another reason to stay.”

“Brigitta will be expecting me.”

“Maids are good at keeping secrets,” he says, forcing your eyes to meet his.

“I love you,” you whisper, leaning in to kiss him gently. It’s the millionth time you’ve kissed him today, but still, each time feels like the first. Like it’s air, like it’s a touch he's waited for his whole life. “I have to go.”

“Let me walk you to your chambers at least,” he says as you pull from his grasp. His hand reaches for yours and trails out of it as you keep moving.

“I think I can make it on my own.”

“It’s late, you never know who might be prowling around the castle.”

“All the more reason to keep you protected, Your Highness,” you say, back resting against his door. Jace smiles, the title now feeling like a joke between the two of you, instead of propriety.

“I really can’t convince you to stay, can I?” he asks. You shake your head at him, a small smile on your face. “Very well.” He makes to open the door, but his hand instead rests against it, the other wraps around your waist, bringing your lips to his again. You gasp into the kiss, the sound making Jace practically feral with need. He holds you for a long while before you put a hand to his chest, bringing you both back to the present moment.

“Goodnight, Jace,” you say.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he says, reluctantly opening the door for you. Ser Harrold is stationed there still, and Jace feels a modicum of shame that the knight probably heard the last bit of your conversation. You exchange a look with him, your cheeks red with embarrassment, and you both laugh.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says.

“I look forward to it, My Prince.”

#jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys velaryon x you #jacaerys x you #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys velaryon fanfic #jacaerys velaryon fanfiction #hotd #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon fanfiction

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rafeysbangs · 14 days ago

Text

lachesism , rafe cameron ( series ) 09

pairing ; brother's!bsf!rafe x kook!female!reader

content ; mdni !! outerbanks au, eventual smut, angst, violence, underage drinking, family issues, substance abuse, s/a.

summary ; rafe cameron is everything you can’t stand; reckless, infuriating, and too self-assured for his own good. as your brother’s best friend, he’s always been a constant presence, one you’ve done your best to ignore. but the tension between you has always simmered just beneath the surface, sharp and impossible to ignore. you’ve spent years resisting his pull, refusing to give him the satisfaction. but in a world where lines blur and control slips away, you’re forced to face the truth: rafe cameron isn’t so easy to hate after all.

status ; ongoing .ᐟ

✺ navigation ; 008. 009. 010.

NINE, carrying the chaos.

RAFE HAD FINALLY LEFT FOR TANNEYHILL,

and the night ted and amanda returned, you couldn't shake the weight pressing down on you. laying in bed, the ceiling above you blurred by the shadows of restless thoughts. your stomach churned with unease, the memory of rafe's hands on your skin as fresh and unwelcome as the guilt that followed. you hated him. hated the way he consumed your thoughts, the way he invaded every quiet moment like a splinter lodged too deep to reach.

rafe cameron was a mistake. one you couldn't stop yourself from making again.

when your phone buzzed with a text, you half-hoped it wouldn't be him. but of course, it was.

rafe: stop staring at the ceiling and text me back.

you: go to hell.

rafe: only if you're coming.

you cursed under your breath, tossing your phone onto the bed as if it might burn you. but you couldn't stop yourself from picking it back up.

you: lose my number.

rafe: you didn't seem so eager to lose me the other night.

your jaw clenched, heat flooding your face. he was infuriating. smug and insufferable. you wanted to throw your phone out the window. instead, you ignored him, shoving the device under your pillow and turning over. sleep wouldn't come, but at least you wouldn't have to see his name glowing on the screen.

the next day, when your mom mentioned dinner at tanneyhill, your stomach sank. the idea of sitting across from rafe, pretending everything was normal, made your skin crawl. or maybe it was the memory of his hands gripping your waist, his voice low and venomous in your ear.

"do i have to go?" you asked, feigning disinterest as you flipped through a book you weren't pretending to read anymore.

her mother frowned. "of course, you do. it's polite. and you know how rose loves hosting."

polite. that word sat bitterly in your mouth. you wanted to laugh at the irony. there was nothing polite about rafe cameron.

the evening came too quickly. standing in front of your mirror, you smoothed down the hem of your dress—a white sundress that felt too innocent for what you'd become. you scowled at your reflection, fixing a stray strand of hair before heading downstairs.

the drive to tanneyhill was unbearable. carter yammered on about football and some girl he'd met, but you barely heard him. your thoughts too loud, drowning out everything but the dread pooling in your chest.

when you arrived, the first thing you saw was rafe. he stood in the doorway, arms crossed, his expression unreadable until his eyes landed on you. then came the smirk—the one that always made your blood boil.

"y/n," he said, dragging your name out like it was a private joke. "nice of you to grace us with your presence."

"rafe," you replied, your voice cold as ice. "i see you're still trying to act like you own the place."

"i do, don't i?" he shot back, his grin widening as he stepped aside to let her pass. his gaze lingered a beat too long, and you hated the way it made you feel exposed.

dinner was a strained affair. the table buzzed with polite conversation, but you could feel rafe's presence like a brand. every time you glanced up, his eyes were on you, sharp and unyielding. his foot brushed against yours once, then again, and when you kicked him under the table, he just chuckled softly.

"problem?" he murmured, leaning closer.

"you're the problem," you hissed, your tone low enough that only he could hear.

"and yet, here we are." his voice dripped with mockery, his smirk daring her to react.

after dinner, the parents retreated to the patio, and you found yourself alone in the living room, the tension finally catching up with you. you pressed your fingers to your temples, trying to will away the headache building behind your eyes.

"you look tense," rafe said from behind you, his voice smug and far too close.

you didn't turn around. "what do you want?"

he stepped around the couch, leaning casually against the armrest. his presence loomed, filling the room with an unbearable heat. "just wanted to check on you. you seemed... distracted at dinner."

"go bother someone else, rafe."

he tilted his head, studying you with that infuriating smirk. "you're cute when you're angry."

your patience snapped. "god, i hate you."

"funny," he said, leaning closer, "because you didn't hate me when i had you—"

your hand shot out before he could finish, shoving him back with more force than you intended. his laugh was sharp, almost predatory, as he steadied himself.

"feisty," he said, his voice dropping an octave. "you know, you can keep pretending you hate me, but we both know the truth."

you glared at him, your chest heaving with anger. "the truth is, i can't stand you."

"is that why you let me—"

"stop," you snapped, cutting him off. your voice wavered, but you refused to let him see how much he got to you.

rafe's smirk softened, but only slightly. "whatever helps you sleep at night, baby."

and just like that, he was gone, leaving you alone with the storm raging in your chest.

you finally left tanneyhill, and you couldn't help the faint smirk tugging at your lips as they drove home. the evening had been a tense balancing act, but you'd survived it without any cracks showing. the hum of the car engine filled the silence, carter too engrossed in his phone to notice your jittery hands or the way you bit at the inside of your cheek. relief curled through you—he hadn't caught on.

back at home, you moved quickly. upstairs, you shed the day's pretence like a heavy coat, trading your pristine sundress for panties and a loose t-shirt that barely hung off one shoulder. your hair fell in disarray, strands mussed from the humid night. you crossed the room and unlocked your window, pushing it open just enough to let in the cool night air. crickets chirped in the stillness, their song a steady, rhythmic backdrop as you hit play on a playlist, the low hum of music filling the room.

you climbed into bed, knees tucked close to your chest, trying to ignore the sharp tug of restlessness in your gut. you hated this feeling—this anticipation that set you on edge. it was ridiculous. infuriating. you despised him, loathed every arrogant smirk and cutting remark. and yet...

your eyes flicked to the window. you cursed under her breath, annoyed at yourself, annoyed at him, annoyed at the way her pulse quickened at the thought of his shadow slipping through the frame.

minutes passed. then, the unmistakable scrape of sneakers against the lattice. your heart stumbled. you clenched your fists beneath the blanket, willing herself to stay calm. to stay unaffected.

the window creaked open further, and rafe slipped inside, his movements smooth, deliberate, as though he belonged there. he landed silently, his sharp blue eyes locking on yours in the dim glow of your bedside lamp.

"thought you might've changed your mind," he said, his voice low, cutting through the quiet. he leaned against the window frame, arms crossed, his broad shoulders filling the small space with ease.

"wishful thinking," you shot back, your voice colder than you felt. you sat up, folding your arms as if to create a barrier between them. "what do you want, rafe?"

"same thing you do," he said, his mouth curving into that infuriating smirk. "you left the window open."

your cheeks burned. you hated how easily he read you, how he could peel back your carefully crafted exterior without even trying. "doesn't mean i wanted you to show up."

"sure," he drawled, stepping further into the room. his gaze swept over you, slow and deliberate, making your skin prickle. "is that why you're all dressed up for me?"

you scoffed, pulling the blanket tighter around you. "you're delusional."

"maybe," he said, inching closer, "but you didn't stop me from climbing in, did you?"

"maybe i didn't hear you," you snapped, though your voice faltered slightly. his presence was suffocating, the air between you thick with something you refused to name.

he tilted his head, watching you with that same maddening intensity. "you're a terrible liar."

"and you're a terrible person," you shot back, your tone sharper now. you needed to regain control, to push him back, even if it was only verbal. "what, did you get bored tormenting someone else? or is this just another game to you?"

his smirk faltered for the briefest moment, replaced by something darker, something that made your stomach twist. he stepped closer, towering over you now, and you hated how small you felt under his gaze.

"you think i'm here to play games?" his voice was quieter now, but no less dangerous. "trust me, if this were a game, i would've gotten bored a long time ago."

your breath hitched, your resolve wavering under the weight of his words. you hated him. hated the way he made you feel—off balance, exposed, vulnerable.

"then why are you here?" you asked, your voice softer, but no less biting.

he didn't answer, not right away. instead, he leaned in, his hands bracing against the bed on either side of you, caging you in. his face was so close now, his breath warm against your cheek.

"because you can't stop thinking about me," he said finally, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver down her spine. "just like i can't stop thinking about you."

your pulse roared in your ears, your chest tightening with a mix of anger and something far more dangerous. "you're full of yourself."

"maybe," he admitted, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he spoke. "but i'm not wrong."

your hands itched to shove him away, to push him out the window and slam it shut forever. but instead, you grabbed the collar of his shirt, yanking him down as if to make a point.

"shut up," you muttered against his lips before kissing him, hard and unforgiving, your frustration spilling out in every movement.

he didn't resist. he never did. his hands tangled in your hair, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened, each touch igniting a fire that burned away your better judgment.

you hated him. and you hated yourself for wanting him. but in this moment, with his weight pressing you into the mattress, the lines between hatred and desire blurred beyond recognition.

with your thighs exposed, rafe looked down at the sensitive skin, wanting nothing more than to bury his face there. you propped yourself up on your elbows, your eyebrows cinched together.

rafe kicked his shoes off before his fingers hooked though the soft material of your panties. you watched has he slid the garment down your legs, your head falling back as he then pinned your thighs to the tops of his shoulders. "rafe.." you breathed, reaching down your fingernails lightly dragged across his skin. he hummed, cupping your soaked pussy as you gasped.

"mmm, use your words baby," he traced your folds, losing his mind internally, he couldn't wait to taste you. you blinked hazily when you felt his thumb tease your sensitive clit.

rafe's tongue lapped against your clit, your back arching off the bed as he splayed a hand across your stomach. letting out a whine, rafe ate you like a man starved.

you fought the urge to shut your thighs around his head when two of his fingers poked at your entrance, you could feel him smirking into your pussy proudly. he groaned when he thrusted them into you, the pretty sounds you were making driving him up the wall.

the coil in your stomach only grew tighter until rafe had your thighs trembling. you cried out, your first orgasm of the night ripping through your lungs. rafe grinned as your hips stuttered in a poor attempt to chase the feeling of his tongue.

you stared at the ceiling for a moment then looked at him as the tips of your fingers tugged at his shirt. he tore it off, his toned body highlighted by only the salt lamp shining. he flipped you over and grinded his erection into your ass. he shamelessly rut against you while leaning down, kissing you sloppily, both of them moaning.

taking himself out of his pants, he wrapped a large hand around your throat, his arm flexing, thrusting into you harshly. "oh my- fuck rafe!" you wailed, your walls immediately clenching around him. rafe shut his eyes, his mouth ghosting over yours as he fucked into you hard and slow.

"you miss me?" he breathed, going deeper with each thrust, yanking at your top to pull you against him. your walls stretched deliciously around his length as you whined, "yes- god. i missed your dick."

rafe smirked proudly as he rolled you over and slot himself between your thighs before picking up the pace again.

you looked up at him, already completely fucked out as he pawed at your tits through your top before tearing it off. you began moving your hips in sync with his, meeting his thrusts as he groaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

wrapping your legs around his waist tightly, his toned stomach slapped against your clit as you both rolled your hips in desperation to feel each other finish. "ah fuck," rafe rasped as your nails tore into his back. it wasn't long before you both started shuddering with pleasure, the waves of your orgasms rushing over your bodies.

"shiit." rafe drawled, pressing a kiss to your temple before pulling out. you whined at the empty feeling, clarity setting in again as you looked up at the boy once more with a satisfied but exhausted sigh.

he rolled off of you, catching his breath but taking a moment to smirk as he gazed down at your body. "christ delilah," he rasped, adjusting his pants before he handed you the top you were wearing. your movements stuttered before sitting up and taking it from him, slowly pulling it back over your head before grabbing his from across the bed and handing it to him.

silence engulfed the room, both of them without a word to say as he pulled it over his head.

you finally spoke up, "you can stay the night.. if you want." you shrugged before getting up and walking over to your drawers, grabbing a fresh pair of panties. rafe's mouth opened as if he were about to say something before shutting, he stretched and scratched at the back of his neck.

guilt radiated off him as he looked down, "sorry i uh, i've gotta deal with somethin'... another time." you said nothing, just nodded your head before disappearing into the bathroom. rafe stayed for a moment, waiting for you to come out to say goodbye but left figuring you were angry.

you washed your hands before coming out to find an empty bedroom, clenching your jaw for a moment you slipped under the covers and flipped off your salt lamp, hoping to easily drift off to sleep.

you woke slowly, the pale morning light filtering through the curtains and painting the room in soft gold. you stretched under the covers, your hand sliding across the sheets. they were cold, empty. you frowned, the absence sinking into your chest like a weight. you rolled onto your side and pulled the duvet higher over your head, wishing, for once, that rafe would still be there, his arm heavy over your waist, his breath warm against your neck. but no such luck. your room was silent, the stillness deafening.

you dragged yourself up, the ache of disappointment lingering as you set about starting your day.

a quick text to cora later, and the plan was set. the country club was as good a place as any to escape—fresh air, a cold beer, and some much-needed distance from everything that had been clawing at your mind. by the time you arrived, the weight of the morning had lessened just a little. cora was already there, leaning against the entrance with that easy grin of hers, making your mood lift even more as you grabbed your gear and made your way to the course.

you took a deep breath, the scent of freshly cut grass filling your lungs, the cool breeze teasing your hair. you cracked open a beer from the cooler you'd brought, the chill of it a welcome distraction from the storm still swirling inside you. lining up your first shot, you tried to focus, but then you heard it—the unmistakable sound of rafe's voice, laughing too loud, too carefree.

your heart skipped. you snapped your head up, eyes already searching the course. and there he was.

rafe. as obnoxious as ever. he was stumbling between swings, a golf club hanging limply in his hand, topper trailing behind him with that idiotic grin on his face. they were both clearly drunk. of course they were. the sight of him had your teeth grinding before you even realised it. your jaw tightened, fingers curling around your beer can. where the hell did he go last night?

"you good?" cora's voice cut through, pulling you back to the present.

your gaze flicked to your friend, trying to smooth out the glimpse of annoyance that must've been obvious on your face. "yeah," you said quickly, forcing a tight smile, though you knew it didn't reach your eyes. "let's keep playing."

but the game was lost the moment your eyes found him again. there was no escaping rafe. no matter how much you tried to focus on your swing, every part of you was keyed into the sight of him across the course—his loud, careless laughter, the way his stupidly perfect smile twisted when he looked back at you. it was all a reminder of how little you actually controlled, of how much he still got under your skin.

"you're staring," cora pointed out, glancing over at you with a knowing look, but you quickly redirected your gaze, your face going cool again.

"not staring," you muttered. "just trying to focus."

cora didn't press, but you could feel your friend's eyes linger for a moment longer. you didn't need to know the truth, not about that—the part of your life that still felt like a secret you weren't ready to untangle. especially not after last night.

rafe hadn't just messed with your head—he'd taken everything you'd ever built between your rivalry and twisted it into something far worse, something that made your stomach churn every time you even thought about it.

but that didn't mean you were about to give him the satisfaction of knowing he still had that power over you. not when you had control of this moment.

except every time you looked up, there he was again. stumbling, grinning, so damn sure of himself. everything about him infuriated you—how he seemed to move through life with the kind of cocky grace that made every other guy look like an amateur. how his gaze lingered on you for just a moment too long whenever you dared meet it. how, despite your best efforts to push him away, it only made him linger more.

at one point, you hit a shot that sent your ball flying off the green, and as you moved to retrieve it, you felt a familiar presence behind you.

"nice shot," rafe called out, his voice thick with amusement. he had appeared out of nowhere, standing just behind you, making your skin prickle with unwanted awareness. you refused to let your shoulders stiffen, but damn, it was hard to ignore him when he was this close. you could feel the heat of his gaze even before you turned.

you bit back the urge to snap at him, but it was there, clawing at the back of your throat. he was the reason you couldn't concentrate. he was the reason you felt this constant simmering heat under your skin, the thing that kept you up late at night, unable to push him out of your thoughts.

"don't know why you're out here, rafe," you said instead, forcing a biting tone. "shouldn't you be out reeking havoc somewhere else?"

he smirked, taking a step closer. "maybe," he said, and your heart stuttered for a fraction of a second. "but i figured i'd grace you with my presence." his voice dropped lower, teasing, but there was something darker underneath it. "you didn't seem like you were having much fun without me."

your stomach clenched. "fun? not when you're around, no."

he raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "how mature of you."

"whatever, don't pretend you care about what i'm doing," you snapped, but even as you said it, you could feel the tension building, stretching thinner by the second. every word that passed between you was another match tossed onto the fire, and neither of you could seem to stop adding fuel to it.

he didn't say anything else for a moment, his gaze running over you like he was calculating something—figuring you out, peeling back another layer you'd rather keep hidden.

when he finally spoke again, his voice was quieter, more dangerous. "you know, i didn't forget about last night."

you froze, your breath catching in your throat. your eyes narrowed instinctively, but the warning in your chest only deepened.

"keep talking, rafe," you said coldly, your hands curling into fists at your sides instinctively.

he took another step closer, his scent hitting you like a punch—cologne, smoke, and something else you couldn't quite place. he was too close now, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him, close enough that it was suffocating.

"oh, i will," he murmured, his voice low, lips twitching into that infuriating, maddening smirk. "but you're not gonna like where it goes."

you clenched your jaw, refusing to let the flicker of nervousness show. you hated him. but as he moved closer again, your feelings betrayed you—your body pulsing with an undeniable tension that made everything inside you scream to run, and yet... you couldn't.

not when he was right there. not when he was still the one thing that made everything else seem so damn insignificant.

just as you opened your mouth to retort, ready to snap back at him, cora appeared like a much-needed breath of fresh air. her voice cut through the tension like a knife. "hey, you two. enough with the glares and the bullshit, okay?"

cora's easy-going tone contrasted sharply with the fire that had been building between you, and somehow, it worked. you took a step back, not quite retreating but pulling yourself out of the storm that rafe was stirring up. your eyes shot one last look at him, but he didn't seem too fazed, just watching you with that infuriating smirk.

"yeah, well, i don't need this today," you muttered, not meeting rafe's gaze again as you turned to walk away, cora falling into step beside you.

cora shot rafe a pointed look, one that made it clear she wasn't about to entertain whatever game he was playing, before following you off the course.

once you reached the car, you felt the air settle between the two of you, your chest still tight with everything left unsaid. cora opened the door to the passenger side, tossing her golf bag into the back seat with an exaggerated sigh.

"you alright?" cora asked, watching you carefully as she slid into the car. her tone was quiet but knowing, the kind that suggested she wasn't about to let you off the hook so easily.

you clicked your seatbelt into place, staring out the window for a long moment before answering. "yeah, i'm fine," you said, though your voice didn't sound convincing even to your own ears.

cora raised an eyebrow, not buying it for a second. "don't lie. what's going on with you and rafe?"

your breath caught at the question. you had hoped to avoid it. hoped—but cora wasn't one to back down once she got a sense of something being off. and after everything that had happened today, it wasn't going to stay buried for long.

"it's nothing," you said quickly, the words rushing out, but cora didn't let you off the hook.

"y/n," cora's voice was firm now, her eyes never leaving the road as they pulled out of the parking lot. "i saw the way he was looking at you, and i heard what he said. that wasn't just nothing. what is going on?"

you couldn't help the way your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your top, a nervous habit you hadn't been able to shake. you didn't want to talk about it, didn't want to acknowledge how messy everything had become. but cora's gaze was unwavering, and you knew she wasn't going to let up until you spilled something.

sighing, you leaned back in her seat, turning your head to glance at cora. "we... we hooked up," you muttered, the words coming out like they tasted bad on your tongue. "and now everything is... weird."

cora's eyes widened for a moment, then she glanced over at you, a playful but cautious grin tugging at her lips. "rafe cameron? really?" she raised an eyebrow, a mix of disbelief and amusement dancing in her eyes.

"yeah, i know," you shot back, bitterness coating your words. "i'm just as disgusted by it as you are."

"you're not disgusted," cora countered, her voice softer now, more understanding. "you're... frustrated. because there's something between you two. and you're fighting it."

you shook her head, exhaling sharply. "don't you think i know that? don't you think i've been fighting it this whole time? i hate him. i hate him." you gritted your teeth, your fingers curling into your palms. "but it's like nothing else matters when he's around. it's... it's maddening, cora."

there was a long pause as they drove, the air in the car feeling thick with the unspoken tension. cora didn't say anything right away, giving you the space to process your own thoughts.

"this is insane," you muttered after a moment, more to yourself than to cora. "he's a jerk, he's volatile... everything about him is wrong. but it's like i can't... not be around him."

cora's voice broke through the silence, softer now, with a trace of sympathy. "he's messing with you. and you're letting him."

"i know," you whispered, your gaze fixed on the road ahead as the words settled heavily in your chest. "i can't help it. i don't know what to do anymore."

cora glanced over at you, her expression still open and unjudging. "look, i'm not gonna say anything to anyone. this stays between us. but... you're gonna have to figure this out. because if you don't, it's just gonna keep eating at you."

you nodded slowly, the weight of everything pressing on your shoulders. "i don't know how to fix it."

cora smiled, you usual teasing grin softening. "don't worry about it. you'll figure it out. eventually."

"i hope so," you replied quietly, your fingers tapping absently on the window, the thoughts of rafe still swirling around in your head, no matter how hard you tried to push them away.

notes ; hello !!!!!! god im so sorry i've been awol for ages, uni is hectic but anyway i hope you enjoy !

series taglist ; @rafegetinmybed @sqfewrd @dreamyy-cloud @vampteeth @wtfisastiles @flvredcas @plaidcowboy @sematarygirls @slut4you @kravitzwhore @daryldixon83 @lexavanhuelee @dorcas4meadowes @i2rapunzel @rafestoothbrush @drewizz @6r4cie @akobx @seehowitshines @rafeswhoooreee @vbstrewbieri @waywarddiplomatfarmmonger-blog @ariivv01 @k4yr14 @luvrcndy @teleishachrisy @importantbeardcupcake @vanessa-rafesgirl @ltristessedureratoujours @cutkoskysnix1 @kennedywxlsh @funnyalpca @eeveelizabethh @burnburritono @marleymarleymarleymarley @katiebby04 @simplymaeee @hoppinbunny @slutglimreqpers ( lachesism taglist ) in order to stay on this taglist you must interact with the posts !

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thesharktanksdriver · 1 month ago

Note

Magical girl y/n christmas canons?

Tinsel, magic and hot chocolate (platonic)

Sorry I released this after Christmas i have written so much that there’s a huge delay whenever I type on this on this

Christmas headcanons babyyyyyyyyy let’s goooooooo

Anyways Merry late Christmas

Masterlist

Christmas wasn’t much of an occasion for you before you were adopted by billionaire philanthropist playboy Bruce/Brucie Wayne

When you lived on your own Christmas was a luxury you could hardly afford to yourself

Maybe if you had a few crumpled dollars saved in the back of your pocket you’d splurge on a hot chocolate at a stand somewhere

Or you’d have a second cup of instant ramen

But besides that there wasn’t much to celebrate besides the fact that with Christmas came winter and that brought the cold

The old apartment you had didn’t have much heating on account of the busted windows, decaying door and fluctuating power

So winter had alway been a life or death scenario every year

The fear of going to sleep and simply not waking up had been to prevalent to enjoy winter

Snow and ice loosing their beauty in the face of the real potential of dying

You couldn’t appreciate the leisure of affording skates to glide across the ice, of dancing and sliding with family or friends at a rink

Couldn’t come to see the beauty in the snow glimmering like thousands of diamonds under sunlight, of laying in its soft cushioning to make snow angels or snowman’s

Before all of this you couldn’t

Not when you had to survive not only for your own sake

But for the sake of your universe at large

Because if you died the shadowmites would eat and destroy everything

Everyone

All the happy families that pass you by on the street as you adjusted a ratty falling apart hand woven scarf would die

As would the kind older vendor who gave soup out to all the unfortunate during the season

The man who dressed as Santa to bring joy despite the fact that the kids in the shitty parts of Gotham didn’t Believe anymore

A store clerk who slips an extra candy cane in your bag when your not looking as a small surprise

The hero’s of the city who worked perilously on the holidays

For the villains you somehow gained the affection of

Croc in the sewers who lets you sit down on your breaks by the heater you’d dug up from the trash, a gift from last year he treasures for both its practicality and sentimentality

Mr Penguin who gives you the extra food from his Christmas banquet you’re invited to, the way in which he may or may not have tried to insist you take a fur coat a customer “conveniently” left behind with the tag still attached

Ivy and Harley who make you scarves and mitts they knitted by hand, the fun brightly coloured yarn held together by love and dedication that helps you get through the winter’s harsh nights

Mr freeze who seems content this season to have some company in his loneliness if even for a few minutes, and though you can’t appreciate the cold like he can due to its threat to your well being you can appreciate the beauty of Gotham blanketed in glistening snow instead of the dreary smog

Riddler who gifts you a bright green wrapped present that is opened with a riddle, inside being a few books that be personally thought were good

Catwoman who ends up gifting you a large throw blanket with a kitschy picture of a cat that helped you survive the long cold nights

But this is all before your adoption

After, it’s much different

Decorating

Christmas at the Wayne’s and winter all together now is a much different experience

For one the decorations

The most you could do was a small little Charlie Brown tree, you’d decorate them with the little bootleg magical girl figure you got from thrift stores or dollarama’s

But somehow Alfred on the first day of December had the entire manor furnished

Garlands lining the walls with Christmas lights and ornaments hanging off them that shine in the warm lighting of chandeliers

Statues and figurines of Santa and his elves on tables, poinsettia’s in the decorative vases dotting the halls

A massive fresh cut Christmas tree hang up in the main living room, the fireplace lit nearby with stockings hung up on the mantelpiece

Each giant sock individualized in different colours and hand stitched with the occupants names

Bruce’s is midnight black, Dick’s is a light blue, Jason’s a traditional bright red, Tim’s a pretty Maroon , Damien’s a forest green, etc

Yours how hangs there as well, your favourite colour in velvet and your name etched in pretty cursive in sparkly thread

The scent of fresh baked cookies and gingerbread wafting from the kitchen whilst pine and cinnamon linger elsewhere

Eventually you’ll even help Alfred in decorating your room to watch with the Christmas decorations of the entire manor

Helping him hang crystal snowflakes that create rainbow infractions from sunlight streaming in from your window, little reindeer figures being added to your bedside

Maybe even a Christmas hat placed atop one of your plushies

Alfred, according to the rest of the manor residents goes ham for all holidays

Christmas, Halloween, Easter, birthdays, Valentine’s Day, Father’s Day, you name it and he has an entire garages worth of decorations neatly stored away in boxes that he’ll somehow unpack overnight and have half the manor done within 5 hours

A feat truly unprecedented consider this place was a maze of hallways with at least 150 rooms that you’d counted so far

All of which were decorated in some sort of Christmas attire or theme

One was Santa themed, another Christmas tree themed, the one down the hall somewhere was frosty the snow man and a different one was filled with memorabilia from the old stop motion Rudolph films

Somehow them the British man was able to get his hands on some of the spare genuine figures used for that film (and the other ones from the sequels)

All of which now have a correlating Wayne manor resident

Alfred of course is Sam the snow man from that film, umbrella and bowler hat going all too well with him

Apparently when Jason was younger he begged for his to be Rudolph, a fact Bruce nor Dick ever let him live down

At some point during the first weeks of December the entire family gathers to decorate the tree

Quite honestly you thought you’d just hang out in your room while that happened since you had no idea what to really do

Your tiny “tree” didn’t have any traditional ornaments, only your figurines

But not even two minutes after the decorating supposedly started Damien basically kicked down your door with Jason and dragged you to join the tree decorating

Turns out no one can escape this fate

And they all refused to start without you, especially since this would “be your first year to witness the decoration war”

You quickly learn what that means when half the family is arguing on what colour scheme the tree should have

It’s basically an all out war while your sitting beside Damien who looks on

By the end of it all red and gold wins by a smidge

Mostly due to the fact Alfred got accidentally friendly fired by Dick and decided for everyone

You’d never seen Dick so afraid in your life, he looked ready to write his will in that moment

But once that’s finished the decorating actually starts

There’s no real strategy to how they do it

Tim tries to make a plan but it quickly falls through when the others began grabbing random bits and bobbles to hang on the tree

Red and gold balls of glass, old and delicate

Other ornaments of stuffed bears, cups of hot cocoa, a plate of cookies and more

You gravitate mostly towards these ones, the unique ornaments you’d used to see in store displays but could never afford

Ones you’d wish to have but could never hold

The others seem to catch on to this quickly, since they basically give you the box holding them all and hoisting you up to decorate the high points of the tree you couldn’t reach

This almost becomes an argument too when Dick complains that Jason is hogging you

Damien steps in immediately after literally swooping down from nowhere with a grappling hook to take you and bring you to the other side of the tree

All the while stating that once more he’s your favourite sibling

You can’t say he’s wrong when he objectively isn’t

Along with the fact he looks so genuinely happy over the fact

Once the tree is finished all that’s left is the topper

The crowning moment of the tree

With how everyone is looking to you your not surprised when Alfred hands you the crowning piece

They had several out while debating the Christmas tree and one stood out to you

It wasn’t the traditional star, it was a pretty angel

With white feathered wings and flowing brown hair atop a red velvet dress lined in gold

She just stood out to you from the bunch, of course this house full of detectives would notice you gazing at her for 20 minutes admiring the detail

Bruce is the one who lifts you up to place the angel

The only one so far who’d yet to help you reach the top

His hold gentle and stable

Smiling up at you urging you that it’s all alright

That you get to place the most important piece

You can’t help but feel a bit hesitant with all the attention on you on such an important moment

You’d never done something this before

Not for real anyways

You didn’t think topping your dinky tree with the only good figure you had could count

But now your crowning a real Christmas tree

With your family, all of whom look up at you cheering you on

It feels so overwhelmingly nice and cozy

You’d never thought you’d feel this during the season you’d dread

But here you are, lifted to reach atop a giant tree and placing an angel atop it all to look after you all until winter goes

Like the angel you feel the responsibility to drive out all evil forces to protect those in this mansion

The family who cheer loudly when you place her at the top and practically tackle you in a hug when your put back down on the wooden floor

As everyone celebrates you can’t help but look atop the tree

The angel looking down at you whilst Rigel slumbers atop your shoulder

Only being brought back when his nose nudges your cheek, turning your attention to your group of rowdy brothers who beckon you for yet another Christmas activity

Christmas baking

Once upon a time ago many years back you were able to afford a gingerbread house

It was after a few weeks of scrounging for money in wherever you could find it

Spare quarters and loose pennies making up the total of 15 dollars you’d decided to splurge on the cookie house

It didn’t end up looking good but didn’t mind at all, not when you’d feasted on the spare gumdrops that were hard and sour

Or the too sweet icing in a small plastic packet

On Christmas Day you’d eaten the house itself as your gift that year

Dividing it into small pieces to save for later as your future meals and snacks for patrols

Along with sectioning out some for Rigel who insisted you take care of yourself before them

This year though at Wayne manor baking Christmas goods is much less of a luxury and more a constant during the Christmas season

Alfred, you’ve quickly come to learn even before being adopted, was a baking god

That man could bake things you’d think would be served up to the gods on an alter

From his mouth watering cookies to his baked Alaska that nearly made you cry

His skills were no match

And during Christmas he apparently went crazy with baking

Chocolate chip Cookies galore, gingerbread made by hand, candycanes someone made by hand despite the long procedural process of kneading the sugar, sugar cookies with hand made icing that he piped into snowflakes and mini versions of the batfamily

The work he did was no joke

As was his “no one baking but me” policy after everyone else in the family somehow almost set the kitchen on fire

Yeah everyone else in the family was banned after trying to help him one year

Wayne manor nearly burnt down and now only your allowed there with him

Though you guessed that may have also been because he wanted to spend time with you

Something you can’t fault him for since you also like spending time with him as well

Since your new to baking Alfred is a guiding gentle hand

He shows you how to measure out ingredients correctly

Kneed the dough just enough

Pipe icing on cookies

Even let’s you nibble on the spare cookie dough and chocolate chips

Something he makes you keep a secret lest the others in the house get jealous

Throughout all the baking Alfred talks with you about all types of things

He asks you about your Christmases before this

Talks about being in MI6 and raising Bruce

Quietly probes you for Christmas gifts you’d like

Let’s Rigel perch around his shoulders and around his neck like a scarf

It’s all heartwarming and cozy

Especially as he seems so genuinely happy that this year you get to experience a proper Christmas

Not alone in a dingy apartment

But instead surrounded by friends and family

He seems all too proud when your both done with baking and made delectable sweet treats

He seems even more proud when the extra you made end up in containers that you say you’ll hand out to some friends

Thankfully he doesn’t ask when later that night you go out on patrol with a little basket and Christmas cards

He just tells you that if needed he’ll make more

It seems even villains can’t resist his cooking

Especially not with how Croc gobbles down the entire container or how Harley begs for the recipe

Riddler not one for chocolate chip cookies but enjoys the ginger snaps and shortbread cookies you bring instead

Mr.Freeze who quietly thanks you for the sugar cookies made to look like nutcrackers and ballerinas, something he said to you once before that Nora loved during the season

Two face and Harvey seem nostalgic, it makes sense considering Harvey’s friendship with Bruce

He’s been over at Christmas before his decent

When he asks how you have the recipe you just say that an old man asked you to deliver them to him

For the first time in the season you see him melt ever so slightly

He doesn’t need to say thank you, not with how he pats your head and tells you to stay warm

When you go off he hands you one of the cookies

Something you can’t help but smile gleefully at

Later that night you make sure to make extra for the next delivery along with little gingerbread men

All of which are decorated to look like the receivers of the delivery

Ice skating

You’d never learned to skate mostly because you could never afford skates

Public rinks were open during the winter in certain part of Gotham, typically the nicer areas though near crime alley you’d seen a few smaller opens opened up for kids

Though you’d never had the time to go to one

Sure, you could glide across the ice without the needed equipment but it wouldn’t be as fun. And sure, you could technically use your transformation powers to make yourself a pair of skates

But that would be a waste of your limited powers for something so trivial

And it was a skill not typically needed, it’s not like you were fighting Mr freeze on a month to month basis

So you bite your tongue and would continue on when seeing a rink on your way back to your old apartment

Eyes lingering on the families teaching their young ones to skate

To the pretty ice skater dancing as if she were a ballerina

To the group of friends off to the side enjoying a cup of hot cocoa from a small stand nearby

Still too overpriced for you to afford nor enjoy without risk of not affording rent let alone heating

The minute Dick learned this he was already off taking you to a sports supply store and having you try more skates than you’d known existed

From more heavy duty to sleek and petite

He has you try them on

Finding whichever was more comfortable to your feet before you finally settled on a pair

But even after that the shopping wasn’t done

He bought pretty ribbons to replace the laces, skate guards and blade covers

And then off you were suddenly at a rink with him guiding you along the ice

Quite honestly the spectacle of people watching the two of you and awing at the scene is a tad bit embarrassing

But Dicks genuine enthusiasm makes up for it

Though it doesn’t make up for the fact that you’ll be seeing his ass picks later on

Because god, why does he have to give them more fuel to the fire

You’d tried multiple times to get him to stop bending down and hunching over

But he seems to occupied in teaching you to notice the rabid clicks of pictures being taken behind him

Once you get a slow hand of it he takes your gloved hand and lets you take the reigns

Letting you chart the course across the ice

Past equally happy families that have the same smile that he does

Pride gleaming in it like a unyielding fire

Apparently back when he was apart of the circus he sucked at skating he admits

He could do acrobats 20 feet in the air just fine but had two left feet when it came to the ice

His parents never got frustrated though, neither did Bruce

But they one day said that he’d get it if he put his heart into trying again and again each winter

And that he’d be good enough to one day teach someone else as well

He remarks with a smile that it seems they were right

He says this all the while he stared into the overpriced hot chocolate with whip cream

Little green and red sprinkles in his as well as your own cup

Silently you smile and take his hand to go out on the ice once more when he’s finished his drink

You think that Mr and Mrs Grayson would be proud of him

Though you don’t need to say that aloud when his smile says it all

(Unfortunately you we’re right about the ass shots flooding your feed, though it was also mixed with people gushing over how adorable the scene was and how cute you are. You don’t open social media for the next couple of days for various reasons, your bashful expression is poked at by Damien who says he can hunt down the users if you’d like)

Gift shopping

Buying gifts for others was yet another luxury you couldn’t typically afford

So you used to scavenge for things

The heater for croc is a good example

As are the pots you then hand painted for Ivy and Harley

This year though it’s a bit overwhelming as Bruce takes you shopping for gifts

Store after store

His obsidian credit card that he pulled out for nearly everything you so much as dare to look at for over 5 seconds

The guilt that he’s spending his money for you

So far you’d picked out good gifts for everyone else

Even going as far to get some for Titus, your….non law-abiding citizen friends and some for the justice league

But you were still unused to it all without looking at the price tag

Something Bruce all but basically banned you to do and just said to put anything in the cart

And by Anthony he meant anything

You were staring too long at the car displayed in the mall and he nearly took you to a car dealership to buy you one

And then went on about customizing it for your or that persons taste

You sure anyone would like Ferrari but your not quite sure how you’d explain buying one to the receiver

Throughout it all Bruce looks more content than you’d thought he’d be when your spending his money

Sure, he’s a billionaire but typically they like to save and horde money, not freely spend it n frivolous things like this

But it seems Bruce had been the outlier

Maybe he’s always been

You’d gotten to Gotham academy because of his scholarship programs before he knew your existence

Certain parts of Gotham were in better state due to the Wayne corporations work and job listings

The Martha and Thomas Wayne fundraiser each year raised millions in charity

It’s still all so weird

But you have a small moment of clarity when entering a small anime store

Bruce chats up the worker at the counter, pulling out his Brucie persona

And he lets you reign free to buy stuff

You browse the figures, even finding a few you’d like for yourself that your almost 100% sure he’s gonna ask the owner to hold and have Alfred pick up later

But then you get to the dvds section

And in the bottom shelf you find old VHS’s

Your finger grazes across their spines alphabetically

And then it stops on a pretty pink one

It’s old and slightly faded

But you know this one by heart

This was one of your old sailor moon’s VHS’s, the one that you played so much that it eventually stopped working

The box was the only thing left of the thing, there was no use in keeping a messed of tape

So you had to sadly throw it out

The memories flood back of that tape

The episodes you know by heart

The line delivery (a male voice mocks it and brings you to tears)

The cheesy voice acting (something a female voice complained about)

The night spent alone watching it before Rigel came along (the sense of feeling of overwhelming loneliness waiting for someone to come back)

Huh? Your reminded of something?

Your parents, you forgot you even had those at one point

The cold seeps through an broken window past the flimsy sheer curtains

You hear them moving stuff, muttering to themselves quietly as you sit in front of the old box tv

Their voices muffled and static, grating your eardrums in fuzziness

You hum along to moonlight densetsu as sailor moon appears on screen

When she strikes her pose you do so as well, mirroring the action with your pudgy hands

A thump alerts you away from the screen

Two blurred figures, your parents stand by the door

Bags beside them filled to the brim

“We’re going to get groceries, you now how to use the stove” to your 5 year old mind this was normal

You didn’t know someone your age shouldn’t be left alone for hours on end

Shouldn’t be able to use the stove

Shouldn’t look to the tv as your only friend and mentor in keeping you alive

It was sailor moon who taught you to show kindness to others

Mew mew showed you to protect your home

Sakura told you to love others no matter their appearance or gender

Utena proved girls could fight and be just as strong as men

It was Honoka and Nagisa from pretty cure who taught you courage

It was never your parents, it was the reruns and old VHS’s you watched until they couldn’t play anymore and you knew the episodes by heart

You remember those shows so clearly, each episode and line delivery

And yet you couldn’t remember your mom or dad besides the one memory

They were so insignificant in the few years of your life they’d been in

And it’s that night watching sailor moon they left you

Abandoned you in a ratty apartment that they were gonna be kicked out of for not paying their bills

Left you to watch your only good facet in your life

Magical girls

Except now you imagine the memory differently

Your watching your sailor moon but there’s no shuffling in the background

Not the sound of them preparing to leave

Just silence before you feel a presence beside you

Turning your head you see Bruce, sitting beside you

Though now instead of kneeling on the floor your in the private theatre in a comfortable leather chair

The night he surprised you with getting your favourite series to play in it

And even if he didn’t understand the plot or what was going on he watched with a smile

He watched beside you, not once leaving your side

You pick up the old vhs with a nostalgic smile, thumb trailing down the back to read the episode list

The ones you remember by heart

Like by line

You put it back knowing somehow it would end up in your stocking this year

You wonder if the rest of the family would enjoy watching as well even without any context to the show

playing in snow

You used to hate the snow, and ice and all things cold except for Mr freeze and the cheap Dairy Queen Sunday’s you bought in the summer to cool down

But besides that you couldn’t stand it

You could play in the snow without risk of getting sick

Your winter boots already holes and your mitts were falling apart as it was

If you made snow angels or made snowballs you’d be left wet and cold

And there was nothing at the apartment to really dry you

Unless you wanted to waste Rigels magic to do so

And that wasn’t an option when every night you were breaking a rib or snapping your arm again

It seemed during Christmas as well Shadowmites got worse

For the season of giving and love there sure was a lot of hated that they feed off of

And unfortunately you were at the brunt end of it all

They gifted you broken bones and bloody scratches

So if others considered you a Scrooge for not liking the season you had every reason as to why

Not to mention by the end of your fights you were freezing and drenched

An even worse combination when bleeding and stumbling on a broken foot

Ba humbug

So when Jason takes you to go tobogganing your less amused than an average kid should be

To be fair your not exactly and “average kid” with the whole magical girl powers and all

But still, he had expected a bit more enthusiasm and less confusion

Safe to say Jason is a bit like Dick realizing you never learned to skate

Though unlike Dick, Jason can acclimate as to why

Growing up in crime alley was a lot like your own childhood

But back then he had friends, other kids to play with in the snow

He knew what fun it could bring because of that but you didn’t

And he decides to try and fix that

So throwing you your snow boots and zipping up his coat he all but almost drags you out the manor

A sled in hand while Rigel curls up around you like a scarf

His boots thumping through the snow creating satisfying crunches

Wayne manor’s grounds were huge, and unknown to you was that it also had a hill

Like a proper hill hidden behind dead shrubbery and snow covered trees

Something Jason shows off with a proud smile

He sets up the sled as you admire the view

It looks more like something from one of those old 2 million dollar paintings kept in a private collection away from the public

You see Gotham dusted in snow, refracting light creating a diamond-like sheen across the city

Snow falling around framing the entire world

It’s pretty in a way you handy really seen before now took a moment to enjoy

“Hey! Hop on”

Turning around you see Jason on the sled patting the spot in front of him

With a small nod you slid into the spot, settled comfortably between his legs as he wretched his arms past you to grab the reigns

“Ready?”

His eyes shine and you see the faintest tinge of green mixed in blue

You nod grabbing the reigns as well

He smiles and scoots the sleigh to the edge

Letting gravity do the rest

The sleigh starts its descent down the hill, gliding across the snow picking up speed

It’s a bit bumpy

A bit scary

But you hear Jason yell in excitement and your voice joins his in symphony

Before crashing down to the bottom and falling off the sled into the snow nearby with a audible thump

Almost immediately your older brother searches but finds you laying face up in the snow with a smile

A laugh tumbling out your mouth all the while Rigel chitters in a similar manner

Jason flops down beside you

From the hill when you go back down again you see both his and your snow angels side by side

Gift wrapping

You couldn’t wrap for shit, that is something you knew very well when one year you tried

Keyword tried

To wrap up a present for Rigel with scraps of wrapping paper you found in a garbage somewhere

It looked more like a Picasso painting of a wrapped present than a present itself

But unlike wrapping presents you could tie bows

Something Tim couldn’t do

You’d seen him try for 30 minutes and it looked….well it looked bad

It looked like a snake strangled itself to death

Or a noose trying to hang itself

Plane and simple its atrocious

But combining your skills together you both are actually competent

So the two of you decided to team up to create the wrapping league

Even if said league was more like a duo than anything

And was less about end of the world scenarios and moreso just about competently wrapping gifts

But to be honest it’s just fun hanging out with Tim

He’s just someone who knows just about everything due to unlimited internet access

Which could be for better or the worst

But that’s either which way

Tim knows all the shows you talk about no matter how obscure

Apparently when Bruce was researching you Tim had convinced him watching all seasons of sailor moon was for research purposes

As was watching nearly half of all the pretty cure series

And madoka magica

And mew mew

And- you get the point

How he did this? Being delirious to the point Bruce just agreed to anything he wanted so long as he promised to sleep for a good 12 hours

And so for a week straight the home Wayne theatre was his for the taking

For “research” though to anyone who looked in it was mostly definitely for his own viewing

But because of that no matter what show you mention he has watched it

There’s no awkward explaining of the plot

Nor the fact midway through you’d typically stop since most by then would just awkwardly laugh and say they’ll check it out which was code word for “haha no that show sounds weird as shit and I won’t touch it with a 20 foot stick and your weird too stop talking already”

Tim has seen it already and passionately talk to you about it for half an hour straight with no breaks between either of you

Tim is unabashed in his interests

Whether that be 16th century poetry or the most obscure damn show on the internet he picked up for funsies

Tim can and will talk about anything

Andrew with passion too

There’s no awkwardness when you speak to him

It’s just a genuine conversation and interaction

He talks about his favourite episode and characters

His most hated

Favourite scenes or fights

Fan Theories and his own

It feels validating

Because you know he isn’t judging you

He’s just genuine

That’s a lot more than any present you wrap

Your not sure if he knows that though

By the time either of you have wrapped the presents neither of you know that partway in Alfred began to secretly wrap to give you both more time to talk

Opening presents

Christmas morning used to be a morning of quiet

You’d wake up with Rigel and make yourself a small meal and enjoy the day mostly relaxing or preparing for the night when you’d inevitably go out to kill Shadowmites

This years Christmas morning is very different though

Your awoken at 8 on the dot in the morning by Damien who’s standing at your bedside in what looked to be a hand knit sweater

Before you have time to wake up (especially since last night was long as hell) you have a similar sweater shoved in your face

It’s your favourite colour much like the stocking Alfred hand made

So it’s safe to assume he somehow had the time to knit this as well

The shimmery white yarn creating intricate patterns of snowflakes and bunnies frolicking in the snow

Still clad in pyjamas and throwing on the sweater Damien all but drags you from your room and through the long hallways

Feet only clad in socks slapping against the wooden floor

Exhaustion slowly leaving you when your handed a cup of hot chocolate by Alfred

And seeing the absolute mountain of presents stacked under the tree

It’s an mind blowing amount (at least to you)

A sea of patterned paper and bows gleaming under the chandelier light

Stockings stuffed to the brink above a already lit fire

Alfred waiting expectantly on a cushioned chair, old eyes lighting up when seeing the sweater your wearing

By now the others slowly start to trickle in

Bruce looking equally as tired as you in a silk robe topped off with a Christmas hat with a fake beard

Jason not too far behind pushing Dick and Tim out the way

Dick and Tim nearly eating shit on the carpeting because of Jason

Everyone wearing similar sweaters

During the ordeal of opening presents you hand out the ones you’d bought for everyone

A certain sense of satisfaction and nervousness flooding you as you watch their reactions

You’d gotten them many gifts for each but there was one main gift for each you’d spent some time finding (or in one case working on)

Somehow you’d gotten a first edition copy of Moby dick for Jason which resulted in your being thrown in the air and given a back breaking hug

For Dick you scrounged up old “flying Graysons” circus posters at a few vintage stores, somehow you’d gotten another reaction like Jason

In which you nearly ended up air-bound if not for Damien

Speaking of which, for Damien you called in a favour from Klarion for a duel gift to get a rare sapphire encrusted sword Al apparently lost a millennia ago

Apparently it was in some desert beneath 300 feet of sand

Tim got a vintage camera he’d been eyeing for a long time but hadn’t been able to find

For Bruce instead of buying him something you opted to make him something instead

Compared to some of the other gifts it’s simple but you made him a scrapbook with the help of Alfred

It complied everything from his adoption of Dick to you

Every page was themed and included things like dried flowers to old tickets and stickers according to theming

It’s a behemoth of a book

Practically took up 3 months of work when not busy with school or patrols or when Bruce wasn’t around

But it ends up being perhaps the most heartfelt gift of them all

Bruce hugs you?

It’s a weird thing, especially when you swear you almost see him cry

He holds you close to his heart

Alfred insisted you didn’t get him anything but you end up with a similarly handmade gift in the form of recipes written on parchment and bound together in a beautiful ribbon

When asked you simply say you got it from a friend, specifically Mrs.C

And then it comes time for your own presents

And it’s a bit overwhelming

So many boxes wrapped in elegant paper addressed to you

All tied together with pretty bows and streamers

Box after box is handed to you as Damien sits by your side

You’d haven’t even opened any yet and everyone is fighting amongst one another on who’s you should open first

When all of a sudden Damien reveals you’d already opened one

Much to everyone and your own confusion

Except for Alfred who smiles alongside the Al Ghul

Damien points to your sweater

And it sets in for everyone

Turns out he made the Christmas sweater

Not Alfred

When the butler was beginning work on yours Damien insisted he wanted to make it for you

So Alfred obliged and taught him how to knit through the past couple months and make the design

It explains the bunny’s on the sweater

Alongside why he one day came to you holding up several shades of yarn and asked which was your favourite before scurrying off somewhere

After that more presents are opened

Damien smirking and glaring with pride as Tim, Jason and Dick hand you more presents

Unsurprisingly a lot of it is magical girl based merchandise

Though it’s also mixed with a plethora of things like clothes, plushes, books and even some jewelry

From under the tree you even get gifts from a few justice league members

And you some from a few villains as well that Bruce explained stopped him last night and demanded be given to you since you were off duty this Christmas

Though by how you keep repeat rubbing your eyes it seems less like it

“You alright there?” Dick asks as he hands you another present from under the tree, another figurine to add to your growing collection

“Yeah, I’m really tired from last night” you explain rubbing the back of your neck making the rest of the family look at you in confusion

Jason speaks up first, “but you weren’t on patrol last night? We all told you to take Christmas off”

“I wasn’t on patrol…or at least a traditional one” you explain pulling up your phone, it was still weird getting used to this stupid thing. Too many apps and buttons for your taste.

“What exactly does that mean sister?” Damien prodded as you pulled up a picture on your phone.

Holding your phone up the rest of the family goes silent, there in picture form is you in a magical angel ensemble with a halo wings and all but it’s where you are that’s the most interesting. In the background of the picture is a bunch of reindeer attached to the vehicle you were in, the further most deer emanating a red light from its nose that helps light the way through the snow raining down from the heavens as the rest navigate overtop Paris and the Eiffel Tower.

The silence is broken when everyone but an unsurprised Alfred at the top of their lungs begin demanding answers to an obvious question.

????

Twas the night before Christmas and all through the enormous house not a peep was spoken not even a mouse

The family was out all but you, a little girl tucked asleep in her room

But by the stroke of midnight something a tap tap tap rattled you from your sleep

And by your window there stood a man on his sleigh

20 feet up in the air because your room was on the second story floor

A jolly man in red, the one and only Santa Claus tapped at your window and-

Yeah…enough with the rhyming stuff this is getting difficult

So yeah, last night imagine your surprise when you woke up to find Santa tapping on the glass of your window

The jolly iconic man in white and red waving you over to open it

When Santa entered through the window he sat down and asked for you help

Apparently the shadowmites were something even he couldn’t exactly deal with

And when he’s dealing with delivering presents it’s not exactly nice being knawed on by shadow creatures

So he implored your help to make sure Christmas went smoothly this year

And how could you say not to an offer like that

So transforming into your magical outfit you decided what you’d do for your theme

And picked an angel, specifically a snow angel based on the snow angels you’d made with Jason and the angel atop the Christmas tree

Because you’d be looking over everyone just as she did

And so you hopped on Santa’s sleigh and got to work with him delivering presents

Quite honestly delivering presents with St.Nick is quite a fun job

He’s warm and friendly, answering your questions and laughing with glee when explaining stories to you

The reindeer are equally friendly

On the occasionally breaks taken for cookies and milk you get to pet them

Rudolph affectionately booping his nose against your own or Cupid having you readjust her bows attacked to her antlers

A feat according to Santa was something few were allowed to do

And Rigel who sat in Santa’s shoulder

The two talking like old friends

Which implied that Santa was some sort of godly being like him

Which…honestly tracks of your honest

How else would he be able to do this in a single night?

Let alone the fact he had a magical bag containing all his gifts and letters

Along with a list that magically tells him if someone was good or bad within the span of a year

So yeah, safe to assume he’s some sort of god

Maybe like Alfred

Off into the night sky you go, taking a seat beside the gift giving man as he handed you his list to read aloud

A check mark beside a name signifying if they were good and a X for if they were bad

Most names you didn’t recognize as you expected

But a few make you pause

And makes you pull out from the magical bag beside you the gifts you’d been holding for said somebodies

Apparently the sack contained Santa’s gifts and the gifts of anyone during Christmas

Yours included

And Santa just laughs in joy when you ask if you could deliver your own presents as well

John Constantine nearly choked on his cigarette when you appeared at the house of mystery with Santa in tow

The living house shifting around the two of you as you climbed down the chimney with your gift in hand

He can only take it wordlessly before you and Santa climb back out like nothing happened, the house of mystery even creating bricks for proper footing on the way out

For the house you also leave a gift in the form of a pretty wreath for the door

A shudder waves back and forth as you both fly away

Klarion in his own personal realm before you and Santa came crashing in politely with a knock on an inter dimensional door

Because of you this year he somehow worked his way onto the good list

The bottom if the good list but still on it regardless

And thus got more than a chunk of coal for his efforts from Santa

Plus your gift to him of the limited edition 2016 discord and fluttershy figure

Later on in the night when you both fly past Clark he does a double take and seems like if he was Wondering if he was hallucinating

In Atlantis you leave a gift for Arthur under a Christmas tree shaped out of coral

Though themyscira doesn’t exactly celebrate you and Santa do leave a gift for Diana and some of the Amazonians

In Gotham beneath a small Charlie Brown Christmas tree you leave to Waylon a new heater plus Santa’s gift of a heated blanket

You leave something for Harley and Ivy plus some new toys for bud and Lou beneath their freshly grown Christmas tree

Santa even takes you off the planet to do a tradition of his that he did ever year

Aka giving coal to some guy called darkseid

He sounded vaguely familiar but besides Gotham villains you didn’t pay attention beyond that

Apparently he’s at the top of the bad list each year

You wait on the sleigh for when he delivers the coal

But watch as laser beams try to shoot you both down as Santa laughs at whoever shoots them

Even when the beams twist and turn and try to keep up before eventually stopping

But it’s eventually through most of the night that you realize something

There were barely any Shadowmites at all

At least not enough for Santa to be worried about and employ your help with

So it brings up the question, why were you brought on to help this year

And it’s a question the old man answers quite easily as you both sail through to the North Pole for a small pit stop

“Well young lady I thought I’d give you a bit more of different type of gift this year” the jolly old man explains rubbing his long white beard tangled with a few candycanes and cookie crumbs. His grin is unrivaled as is his moustache that’s curled like an old cartoon character, giving him a fun air of whimsy.

“What do you mean?” You end up asking, looking to him in confusion

He smiles, digging out his magic bag some letters that he hands to you. Each are from a different sender but almost all from Gotham, or surrounding area’s. When you read them you begin to understand. Each are addressed to Santa from numerous different people, some are kids, some adults, but all ask for one thing this Christmas, and it’s that you have an amazing Christmas this year. In each letter they detail how you saved them or helped them in some capacity, and that this year instead of a gift for themselves they wanted to give you something.

But that isn’t all, more letters begin to pour out the bag as the sleigh glides atop the Aurora borealis. More and more letters than you could count on your own, all detailing that they wanted you to have a merry Christmas. they fly past but you hear their contents as they fall into the green glow of the aurora which after a moment create phantom memories of the writers form, shimmery wistful versions of them made of greens and purples reading out their letters.

“Don’t think that I didn’t notice that every year you worked hard on Christmas just as I did” the old man tuts, patting your head before going back to guiding his reindeer “though the difference between you and me was Christmas spirit. Though, I can’t blame you for not having it considering circumstance. But year after year of those letters asking for you to have a good Christmas as their gift, and there wasn’t much I could give to do that. So what better to do than give you something a bit different instead? An experience can still be a gift can it not? Especially when it gives you the Christmas spirit you long missed out on”

What he says makes you pause, year after year implies that ever since you began being a magical girl he’d gotten letters asking for this one Christmas wish. And it was yearly that others asked for you to be happy during this holiday, you of all people.

You’d never really understood Christmas until that moment, and it hits you all at once

When you dry your tears into the soft red velvet of Santa’s coat he doesn’t say anything, he just holds you close saying that “you of all people on my list deserves a very merry Christmas ever year my dear”

“And that’s how I ended up exchanging recipes with Mrs claus and ended playing black jack with krampus” you explain showing more photos to your increasingly mortified family

“Well…I….you know what I don’t really know what to say to this” Bruce mutters completely stumped as the others don’t look like their faring any better

If they thought this was weird your not sure how your gonna explain meeting the personification of dreams named Morpheus and also befriending him

But maybe that was a bombshell for another time

#magical girl y/n #dc x reader #platonic #dc #batman x reader #dick grayson x reader #bruce wayne x reader #Tim Drake x reader #jason todd x reader #Damien Wayne X reader #alfred pennyworth #jason todd #red hood x reader #red hood #Tim Drake #nightwing x reader #Nightwing #damien wayne #bruce wayne

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jayden-writes · 3 months ago

Text

safe

pairing: Lucifer x gn!Reader

wordcount: ~3k

genre: hurt/comfort, angst, whump

cw: kidnapping, strangulation, threats, violence, murder

summary: Did it truly matter that the hands cradling your face so very gently were bloody?

other notes: no name, Y/N or MC used // AO3 // thanks again to @gravedwe11er for helping me so much with this fic

A piece of fabric pressing over your mouth and nose was all it took to plunge your world into darkness, a pungent smell being the last thing you could process. You’d been on your way back from a short trip, unsuspecting, unaware of who was lurking in the shadows. How much time had passed, you couldn’t possibly tell, but as you finally came to, all you could feel was a dull pain engulfing your entire body. Upon trying to check for any injuries, you realized your wrists were tied, bindings digging tightly into your skin. Slowly, your other senses started to return to you, and you registered that you were sitting, something around your chest keeping you upright.

Forcing your eyelids open, you blinked a few times, attempting to make sense of your surroundings. It was dark, the small, sparse room only dimly lit. If you had to guess, you'd say it was some sort of basement; the floor was unfinished, and the brick wall looked rough. “Mh-” you tried to speak, but all that you managed to get out was a muffled, quiet sound. You’ve been gagged. A heavy weight settled deep in your stomach. The cloth forced between your teeth tasted musty, already damp with your saliva. Looking down with wide eyes, you took in the multiple rows of rope wrapped around your upper body, restricting your breathing, arms bound behind you at an awkward, painful angle that made your shoulders ache. The edge of the metal chair you were sitting on cut into your thighs.

When you wiggled around to free yourself, or at least loosen the restraints, the legs scraped on the crude floor, making your ears hurt. But no matter how hard you fought, it was futile. Holding back tears, you let your head hang, closing your eyes. Deliberately keeping your inhales slow and steady, you tried to think of a solution despite your racing thoughts. Panicking wouldn’t save you, you knew that. Clearly, you would be unable to free yourself without outside assistance. And with your mouth gagged, you weren’t even able to invoke one of your pacts to call them for help. So, what should you do? What could you do?

Before you had any more time to reflect on your circumstances, you heard heavy footsteps above you, drawing your attention. Seconds later, a door was opened, the light momentarily blinding you, then it was cut off again. In the remaining light bleeding through the crack of the door, you saw feet, legs and after that, slowly, the rest of someone unknown to you entered your field of vision - though it was obvious that it was a demon. Her eyes were unnaturally bright, the pale blue piercing through you. A wolfish grin curled around her lips as she stepped closer. You wanted to shrink back, huddle into the furthest corner of the room. But you couldn’t.

“Ah, finally awake, are we? I bet you must have a lot of questions.” Her voice was casual, as if she was simply out for a stroll while she towered over you. “Well, too bad! You see, as much as I’d like to have what would undoubtedly be a very productive conversation with you, I know you’d just call upon one of those so-called Lords that grovel at your feet.”

“Mph…! Mn…!” you tried again, only earning an amused chuckle from her.

“I’m not particularly keen on having one of those brothers that practically fawn over you come to your rescue. Pathetic, really. Demons of their status acting like that around a human. They're supposed to be leaders, to be an example to us lowly demons. Ha, as if! Traitors, all of them, and they should be treated as such.” She gripped your chin roughly, her pointed fingernails scraping along your flesh as you glared at her defiantly despite the ice-cold sensation running through your veins.

“Don’t give me that fucking look, human, show me some respect,” she sneered. For a moment longer, she held your gaze, then her eyes wavered. Faster than you could comprehend, a sharp smack resounded in the small room, and your cheek stung. The force of the slap made your head spin. “You’ll lose that defiant look of yours soon enough and learn to grovel at our feet, just the way it should be. I’ll correct the mistake that fool of a prince made.”

Leaning even closer, she brought her hand down to your throat, closing her grip tightly around it. “I could kill you, just like this,” she whispered harshly into your ear as you struggled against her. Faintness quickly took you over, and your vision became frayed at the edges. Were you going to die like this? “Throw your decaying corpse at the feet of these pathetic weaklings and watch them become consumed by their emotions. And then, I’ll be the king.” You couldn’t die. Not now. Not like this. Not here. Not at her hands.

Finally, she let go of you, and you slumped forward. Blood rushed in your ears and you coughed into the cloth. “Tsk.” She spat on the ground right next to where you were trembling on the chair. “That was more boring than I’d expected. Thought you had more fight in you. But you'll see-”

Her speech was cut off when, suddenly, the door was thrown open, banging against the wall and making both you and your captor flinch. “And what exactly,” drawled a frigid voice as slow steps descended the stairs, “was ‘more boring than expected’? Enlighten me.”

You immediately recognized who it was - of course you did. But the softness that usually laced Lucifer's tone whenever he was talking to you was entirely gone, replaced by a sharpness you’d rarely heard from him. It wasn't directed toward you, you knew that, and yet you couldn't help the shiver running down your spine at the sound of his booming voice. Though he sounded composed, it was clear that he was anything but. The air felt electric, and the dangerous aura he exuded made your hair stand on end. Your heart skipped a beat, only to start pounding faster, a whimper escaping from behind the gag.

Lucifer came to a stop in front of the other demon, who had become virtually frozen in place, all color drained from her face. Gleaming red eyes glanced at you, swiftly assessing your state, before, whatever it was he saw, made his gaze harden even further. “Look away,” he instructed you in an oddly soft tone, and then his focus returned to your abductor, who was now visibly shaking.

“M-my lord,” she stammered, the quiver in her words unmistakable. “Please, you must understand-”

Within the blink of an eye, Lucifer had her pinned against the wall, a pained shriek filling the room. “What must I understand?” he asked, sounding deceptively calm, as his fingers dug into the throat of the other demon. She fought against the grip, trying to loosen the hold. To no avail. Lucifer was unmoving, unbothered by the nails scratching at his gloved hands. Clicking his tongue, he let go, and she collapsed to the ground.

“Please,” she tried, her voice strained as she coughed, attempting to gather herself. A hard kick was delivered to her stomach, causing her to cry out again and curl in on herself. When it was followed by Lucifer stepping on her hand, you knew you should have heeded his order and looked away. As it was, you were unable to avert your gaze as the bones of her fingers cracked beneath the force of his foot. She was pulled up to stand, though most of her weight was being held up by him, pinning her against the wall once more. “I-I'm sorry,” she choked out as he pressed his forearm into her throat.

“Are you truly sorry? Or are you merely trying to save your worthless skin?” Lucifer questioned in a dangerously low voice. He trailed a finger along her cheekbone. “Perhaps,” he mused, “I should rid your body of it. Find a better purpose for it. I believe some bookbinders still use demon skin for books. It would make a terrific present for your family, wouldn't you agree?” He paused, taking in the horror flickering across her face with an impassive expression. “Of course, that would be rather time-consuming. And, quite frankly, I have more important things to tend to than your worthless existence. Let's make this quick then, shall we?”

As if she weighed nothing, he slung her toward the opposite wall, a sickening crack audible as her head made contact with the bricks. She bonelessly fell to the floor, groaning in pain. Before she was able to regain her bearings, Lucifer was kneeling beside her prone body, not caring about the rapidly forming puddle of blood that was dirtying his pants. A dagger glinted in the dimly lit room, and only when blood spurted from her throat, her last, gurgling attempts at breathing filling the air, did you look away, your breaths coming in sharp gasps against the cloth. You felt sick.

With the mangled corpse of the demon lying at the feet of Lucifer, his gaze returned to your quivering form. The intense sheen in his eyes vanished as he took swift steps toward you, appraising your pale appearance. Crouching near you, he partially obscured the gruesome scene behind him. But now, with him finally by your side, he didn't need to. You didn't want to look at it, didn't care about the dead demon, the only thing your sight was drawn to was him. All that mattered was the man before you. The man who could easily kill you just like he killed her, who barely even batted an eye at the wounds he’d inflicted upon that woman. You knew that, rationally, you should be terrified of him, at least as much as you’d been terrified of her. And yet you weren't.

Those same hands that had just killed in cold blood, still stained red, were gently working on undoing the painful restraints keeping you in place. Those same eyes that had shone with ruthless indifference as he had taken a life now looked at you with carefully guarded concern and cautiousness. The crimson streaking his sharp features, dripping off his jaw in beads, complemented the eyes that were looking at you with a contradictory softness perfectly.

Once the cloth was removed from your mouth, all you could muster was a broken sob in the vague shape of his name. With a soft sigh that was probably shakier than Lucifer would have liked to admit, you were gathered into his arms. A hand gingerly pressed against the back of your head, guiding your face into the crook of his neck. The wet blood on his glove was undoubtedly staining your hair, but you couldn't find it in yourself to care; the warmth and safety you found in his embrace was all that mattered.

“Do you have any serious injuries?” he asked quietly, his breath brushing against your ear. Upon feeling you shake your head, he lifted you from the chair, carrying your weight with ease, and you instinctively wrapped your arms over his shoulders. As soon as he'd made it up the stairs, you could hear multiple sets of steps approaching in a hurry alongside several voices, yelling over each other. You recognized all of them, and they rushed around you, a few of them touching you.

Lucifer tightened his hold on you as the sudden onslaught of sensations made you whimper and burrow yourself further into him. “Stop it. This is not helping,” he reprimanded them sharply, and immediately, it grew quiet and the hands withdrew. “I will return home,” he continued. “Do with the body as you wish, though you ought to leave some remains. And don't dawdle too long.”

With that, he went outside, the fresh, cool air replacing the stuffy, metallic tang of the basement. The trip back was short - or was it long? You weren’t sure. It was silent, neither you nor him said anything. The tension in Lucifer was palpable, his posture rigid as he carried you. You mindlessly played with the fabric of his shirt, rubbing it between the tips of your fingers while your head rested on his shoulder.

“I'm okay,” you whispered, although it sounded hollow even to your own ears. He released a heavy sigh and hugged you closer to him.

“You're okay,” he simply echoed.

Next thing you knew, you were back inside. Lucifer's bloody hands were gentle as they worked on divesting your still-trembling form of your clothes, his gaze never lingering anywhere but his own fingers. Not that you would have noticed either way; you were blankly staring ahead, only vaguely aware of his actions. When he had finished, he spoke in a soft voice, as if afraid to startle you, “All done. Are you ready to get in?” Your attention snapped back to the present, to the warm bathroom you were standing in. The tiles beneath your bare feet were a little cold, just now starting to heat up. In the background, water was running, gradually filling the bathtub right next to you.

“Lucifer…?” you mumbled, receiving a squeeze to your hands in response. Looking down, you realized he was gently holding them in his own, ugly bruises and abrasions blooming across your wrists. His gloves were still damp, some of the blood staining your skin.

“Yes. I’m here. Let’s get you cleaned up now,” he responded patiently, directing you toward the tub. Your steps were mechanical as you followed his guidance, entering the warm water and submerging your body in it. Drawing your knees up to your chest, you hugged your legs to yourself, simply gazing at the rippling shapes around you.

“I will leave for a moment to change. Call for me if something is the matter.” For a beat, Lucifer waited for a reply, a reaction, anything from you. When he received none, he sighed wearily. “It will only be for a moment, I will be right back,” he said before stepping out. As you submerged your hands, you watched as the water surrounding you turned a light shade of pink. The pain radiating from your wrists was distant, detached from your being. You observed how you flexed your fingers, then curled them toward your palm, nails digging into the flesh. Had your hands always looked like that? Turning them around, you inspected them, spreading the fingers apart, pressing them together and-

“Does it hurt a lot?” a voice asked and you flinched hard, spinning toward the source. Lucifer was kneeling next to the tub, his brow creased in a frown. “I did not mean to startle you. You seemed very… absorbed in your thoughts. I suppose you didn’t hear me return.” His gloves were gone now, with no traces of the blood that had marred his skin just minutes ago. He had changed into clean, comfortable clothes as well. Upon your prolonged silence, he reached for a nearby cloth, dipping it into the water, then moving it over your body in slow, gentle circles.

“Is this real?” you muttered, the words leaving your mouth before you had even formed the thought.

“Yes, it is real,” he confirmed calmly, though his ministrations faltered briefly. “We are in my bathroom, back in the House of Lamentation. You are safe here.”

“Mhm…” you hummed noncommittally, your gaze drifting down to your submerged hands as you balled them into fists and stretched them out. The water rippled at the repetitive motion and you couldn’t help but stare at the patterns it created. The sensation of the cloth brushing over your skin faded into the background. Only when larger hands stopped your movements, grasping yours gently, did you glance at Lucifer again. You blinked at him blankly. Something in his expression was off, though you couldn’t tell what it was.

“I’m tired,” a voice said and you didn’t have the energy to think about whether it was your own or not.

“Let’s get you into bed then, hm?” he suggested softly, letting the water drain and carefully supporting you as you stood up and stepped out of the tub. A large towel was wrapped around you with which he patted you dry before he helped you into a set of clothes. They vaguely smelled like him. With an arm over your shoulders, he guided you out of the bathroom and back toward his room. Once at the bed, you lay down, sinking into the mattress. For a moment, Lucifer simply remained next to you, regarding you with an unreadable look on his face. Eventually, he knelt beside you and opened the drawer of the nightstand, pulling out a small container. Gingerly, he took one of your arms and scooped out some ointment to apply to the raw skin on your wrist, then he repeated it on the other side as well.

After stowing it away again, Lucifer turned off all the lights besides the candles and climbed into the bed next to you, cautiously gathering you into an embrace. A hand cupped the back of your head, hugging you into his chest as the fingers stroked your scalp. Aside from his even breaths and your slow, shallow ones, it was silent. An invisible weight was tugging on your limbs, the only thing holding you in place, holding you together, were the arms enveloping you.

“Can I let go?” you mumbled, not quite sure yourself what you were trying to ask, but he seemed to understand nonetheless.

“Yes, it’s alright to let go now,” he reassured you, squeezing you a little tighter. “I’m here and I’m not leaving.”

Humming in response, you nestled closer to him, feeling your breaths gradually synchronize with his as you surrendered yourself to the heavy warmth overcoming you. Soon, everything else slowly faded away until you finally drifted off to sleep, safe in Lucifer’s hold.

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mxchineherald · 2 months ago

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ᴍᴜsᴇ sᴛᴀᴛᴜs

“You misunderstand. Only I get to insult my leg. You do not get to call it ‘shitty’. Only I may call it ‘shitty’.”

#passing thoughts ;; ic status

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uzurimisery · 5 months ago

Text

the space between two bodies. / satosugu x reader / part 1

Warnings: MDNI, happy ending, angst, cheating (not really this is explained in part 2), unhealthy relationships/coping mechanisms, suicidal ideation, depression, smut, no sorcery au, unedited

A/N: I started thinking about Gojo with anxiety and nihilist Geto and then what that looks like in a poly relationship with someone as flawed as they are

part two

“We’re sorry but we’ve decided to go with another candidate now. We will retain your information on file should a more suitable role open up.”

The email stared back at you, the words on your phone screen blurring as droplets of rain hit it as you read it over for the hundredth time. Today was just another shitty fucked up day in the endless string of shitty fucked up days that had become your life. The third consecutive month of unemployment in a row. At least previously you could get temp jobs but now each day that passed just ate away at you with how useless you felt.

Pocketing your phone, you pull out a 100 yen coin and put it in the vending machine.

You didn’t even like your old job but Jesus it was like no one was actually hiring. And when you did get an interview, you’d get ghosted afterward. On the rare occasion they didn’t ghost you, you’d receive a rejection letter like this one. It was preferable, you supposed, that your existence and effort were at least acknowledged, no matter how much it stung. Still hurt like a bitch to be told you weren’t good enough.

Anything would be better than this, fuck you’d take being overworked and underpaid if it felt like you were doing something. This endless cycle of gnawing uncertainty and applications, interviews, followed by rejections. Worse than that you were out of deodorant and trying to find some in Japan was a Herculean effort.

Yeah, it’s been a shit go and you’re fucking exhausted.

Maybe you’d go be an English teacher like everyone else who moves to Japan. You wouldn’t need a co-teacher so the pay would be better if you were just starting out. Not that you wanted to teach again dear god that was less than ideal. Thank god you had settled status. The thought of having to deal with visa issues at the same time made you feel sick.

Maybe you could work at a host club. You turned, staring at your reflection in the glass. Your boobs weren’t half bad as you pushed them up from the underside like a push-up bra would. Or sell feet pictures. The market was probably oversaturated at this point but maybe there would be some interest.

Wait Jesus had your hair looked like that all day? Fuck. No wonder that girl kept staring at you on the train she thought you were a lunatic.

Sighing you press the button for 4H. It wasn’t like you’d always been this way, sort of drifting in a sea of uncertainty abroad your boat of doubt with no wind to guide your sails. There was a period of time, maybe a five-year stretch after you had graduated from university where your life was on track. An entry-level job in your degree field, a long-term boyfriend turned fiance, wedding planning, and a great group of friends. Shit, you had it all.

The fiance was the first to go.

As it turns out, finding your fiance in bed with the girl he swore you didn’t have to worry about, his tongue halfway down her throat like he’s trying to do an endoscopy, is a terrible way to find out you’re being cheated on. When he noticed you standing in the doorway he had the gall to sputter some bullshit about how it was your fault it happened. You were too focused on your work, you didn’t give him attention, blah, blah, blah. It was you who broke the relationship up by working so much and being married to your job. And as he paid for the overpriced four-bedroom apartment in an area of Tokyo that you didn’t even like, you lost the apartment in the breakup.

You couldn’t slum dog millionaire your life away on Shoko and Utahime’s couch forever eating tubs of ice cream and binging TV after that, so everyone told you, or rather forced you, to move in with Suguru and Satoru. Bouncing around from couple to couple. It did give you some stability and just as things go up so must they come down.

The company you were working for was liquidated after an investigation by the federal government found years of tax fraud. Luckily they got bought out, and you thought maybe if you put in work you could still climb the ladder. But all those late nights in the office, conbini dinners, and unpaid overtime, you were just another name on a severance list.

It felt like waves were crashing over you, each one larger than the rest. Almost like you were tied to a dock during a hurricane, a tsunami, or some fucking natural disaster that threatened to drown you if you didn’t hold onto something but there wasn’t much to hold on to. You could hold onto the minuscule amount of friendships that you had at least. It was far too awkward and messy to keep up with anyone else other than your main four since the rest were so tied to your ex-fiance and his life. Stupid fucking lawyer.

The four of you were close-ish. Less close since Shoko had gone on rotation at a university on the other side of Tokyo. It meant she and Utahime had moved nearer to it since Utahime was willing to commute. But Suguru and Satoru were still close with you and still dating. Biting as that felt at times.

You met Geto first in a shared philosophy lecture. One of those run-of-the-mill ones, but the content that really got the two of you talking was nihilism. It was the seminar groups after class you shared where he really saw you. Stripped away of pretenses and your nerves laid bare. Not just another face in a lecture hall but something more, something human. The deep indents of nails in your palms and the rubbing of your hands together under the table. He had seen right through you, recognized the darker parts of himself in you- it made you feel understood.

The machine made a mechanical noise and the lights flickered. Sighing you kick the machine lightly to see if anything happens, if life could give you this one thing today that you so desperately needed. Just like everything else, nothing goes your way and your stupid drink stays logged on the shelf. So like every reasonable person you kick the machine again.

“Stupid fucking piece of shit machine,” you murmur a growing string of profanities under your breath as you repeatedly kick the machine

All you wanted was one of those ¥100 coffee drinks that were loaded with caffeine to keep going through your slog of a day was that so hard? Maybe it would be best if you just packed it up and called it quits. Move back home with your parents and be berated daily. Why aren’t you married? Why did you and Kosuke break up? When are they going to get some grandchildren? They aren’t getting any younger you know. Face the cutting shame of fucking up another opportunity, another chance.

What was the point in trying anymore when you couldn’t even get a stupid drink that you don't honestly even want at this point out of a vending machine so you can go home and masturbate to audio porn before you cry yourself to fucking sleep?

Suguru’s voice cut through the spiral of thoughts, your name on his lips.

“What are you doing here? I thought you had an interview and you’d be home late?”

Of course, he’d catch you like this.

“Hey Sugs,” it came out as a groan as you kicked the machine again, a loud clang following as your drink hit the bottom of the dispenser. Bending down, you grab the can before turning and facing him. “I did.”

“How’d it go?”

“Like shit.” Maybe you should work on your delivery. This flat effect is really making you should like a bitch. Are you a bitch?

Geto’s eyes raked over you, infuriatingly calm and measured. He was always so carefully disheveled, the type of person to look effortlessly put together no matter the occasion. Stupid name-brand black sweater over a white button-down half tucked into chinos with a chain on the belt. His hair, shiny and perfect, was neatly tucked into his signature half-up-hald-down look to keep the strand out of his eyes, minus the one for style. Notably, he was wearing his glasses for once, sleek frames perks on a tall nose. Oh, he smelt nice too, his sandalwood and bergamot cologne hitting you as he stepped closer, extending his umbrella to cover the two of you. Fuck he was so handsome it wasn’t fair.

“I'm sorry to hear that,” Geto replied softly.

You shrugged, trying to brush it off. “ It is what it is.”

But the reality of it clung to you and drug you down, down, down into the depths of your psyche. That small, scared feeling you tried so hard to suppress started bubbling up again, twisting your insides into knots. It made you feel sick, so much like a lost little child in a world that had grown far too big and complex. Here it was, rearing its ugly head, in front of one of the top ten people you never wanted to see in such a shit state.

But that's all Gojo and Geto do at this point. They pick up the broken, crumbling pieces of yourself that slip between your fingers. You feel like a cracked vase leaking water all over the place no matter how desperately they try and patch up the ceramic. Each day the gap between you and them grows more apparent. They were both soaring and you were falling to the ground and rolling around in the mud.

Geto had just done a four-page spread in Architects Digest, even though he was a pretentious motherfucker who hated the magazine. And Gojo… God, he’d just opened for Prada at Paris Fashion Week. They went viral on every social media platform a while back for how hot and gay they were. You’d been caught in the crossfire of your accounts being tagged and gained a social media boost, but that also meant a bunch of people DMing you telling you to take pictures of them.

The most fucked up thing about it all was the gnawing feeling that chewing on your bones that you were being dragged around like an accessory to remind them how good they had it. A permanent third wheel they’ve been stuck with since university. Two talented lovers on the brink of permanent importance and their weird little friend who follows them along like a lost puppy. It wasn’t even true and that's why it hurt so much. You knew they believed in you, thought that you could be a successful artist, and supported you in it even, but the jealousy rotted inside you like a festering wound. You weren’t even jealous of their success, only just partial, but it was like you weren’t good enough to be around them.

Maybe you were better off as wall decor in the life they were building together. Something quiet and serene that didn’t demand anything from them. Better that than the bitter, jealous mess you were every time you saw them succeed.

He starts, the same spiel he goes to when you get like this. “You can always-”

“No.” your voice comes out sharper than you intended, but you don’t care.

“I don’t know why you act like it’s such a bad off,” Suguru presses, his calm demeanor only pissing you off more.

“I don’t want to work for you.”

“Why not.”

You snap. “Because I don’t want to, Suguru! Is that so hard to understand?”

Fuck, you wanted to storm off, go back to the house, and slam the door behind you as you went. But it didn’t matter if you stormed off, you lived in one of his guest bedrooms. Both of you were just headed to the same place. Sad little rescue that you were.

Suguru assessed, his eyes softened, breaking you down. He picked out every one of your insecurities as he stared at you. Microscopic inspection, each of your cells was being assessed for your state of being. Have you eaten? Was it enough? Had you slept? Are you even capable of taking care of yourself in this state?

The weight of his gaze made your chest tighten, and before you could control it, try and reel it back in, tears welled up in your eyes. Blinking them back, you swallowed hard, the lump in your throat bobbing as you did. You hated this. Hated the way his care, his pity, felt like a knife twisting in the last remaining shred of pride you clung to.

Pity was the killy of pride and you should accept that your pride was already decomposing in the septic tank in the backyard.

Fuck up, fuck up, fuck up. All you ever were, all you’d ever be. Every loose thread of your shirt feels like it's cutting against your skin. The hem of your trousers drowns your feet like you're wearing your parents' clothes. Shabby. Uncouth. Inept.

Wordlessly, you turned on your heel and fled, rushing out of the side street as the tears spilled past your lash line. You couldn’t do this anymore--no more questions, no more pity. No matter how hard you tried, how hard you struggled, clawed your way through the fucking dirt, you could never be like them. Never be good like theme, never right like them, never fit like them. They had these perfect little lives that they could boast to everyone about. When they spoke, people listened. People cared what they had to say. The world parted for them, it was the Red Sea and they were Moses, making space. There’d always be room for them to shine.

But you were screaming into a void, your throat raw, bloody, and you were aching from the endless effort to be seen, to be heard. You wanted to be looked at like your own person, your own successes. Hard to be noticed for something that rarely happened. No matter how loud you screamed, how much you begged, your voice was just lost in the noise.

You knew Suguru would follow. He always did. Even if you didn’t live in the same house, he’d have followed you. His voice was muffled by the pressure in your ears but you could hear him trying to talk to you. He let you get all the way home and inside the gate of the house before he grabbed your wrist and yanked you backward.

Trying to pull away, your shoulder wrenched painfully as you trashed in his grip.

“Calm down,” Suguru spoke firmly, pulling you into his chest. His sweater was soft, and your face smushed against the fabric as sobs wrecked your body, trembling like the earth in an earthquake.

It was hard to speak through the tears, so all you could do was try and slip out of his hold as you sobbed. You didn’t want this comfort. You wanted to run from your failure. From how suffocating life felt and that no matter what you'd never be enough. Worse than that, the sweet sickly feeling that trickled down your throat that when he held your life this, it made the world feel just a little bit more bearable. As if somewhere you could survive another day if he kept touching you. It wasn’t yours to feel and he wasn’t yours to hold.

Suguru lets you wiggle around. You hit his torso a few times, your strength fading as you cry. When your sobs turned to hiccups and gasps for breaths, he gently cupped your face, thumbs brushing away the tears that still spilled from your eyes.

“Talk to me,” he said softly, barely above a whisper. The songs of a city nearly eclipsing it.

What could you say? How could you explain this feeling? This horrible guilt, pain, and jealousy ate away at you every single day. The tears came harder now, speeding up as if to help drown you in your misery and take you out of it for good. Hiccuping you drew breath, sharp and quick, hoping to speak but nothing comes out. Words claw at your throat, digging it with sharpened points. It hurts the way they hang onto you.

“Is it all too much again?” His voice is so soft, warm like fleece pajamas fresh out of the dryer as he holds you so delicately.

This wasn’t the first time that one of the three of you had been so consumed by dread, suffocated by the weight of life itself. Suguru knew it all too well himself, from high school to know he held it tightly in his hands. It never went away from him, he just learned to live with it, let it fade into the background, and let a constant hum of despair serve as the baseline for the day-to-day.

His thumbs brush over the apex of your cheekbones again and the tenderness shatters you, another wave of sobs tearing through you. They pull you under, out into the open ocean, and through their rip current.

“I just..” you start, it scratches your throat, thick with phlegm. “ I can’t do this anymore.”

His voice remained steady. “Do what?”

“Any of it. I can’t do it.”

“You’re capable of it. You can do it.”

Jarring, rough, whipping across your skin as the rubber band pulls too tight and snaps. You lash out, and it stings where it hits. The anger cuts through your skin like your fingernails leave crescent moons in your palms.

“No, I fucking can’t!” It's ripped out of you as you stalk away like a wounded animal. “I can’t okay. I can’t do shit. I can’t keep a relationship without being cheated on. I can’t manage to get my own place. I can’t get a fucking job. I can’t sit here and pretend like I’m not fucking wasting away in my own misery watching you and Gojo and Shoko all succeed and be the only one of us still shooting for the stars and coming crashing down to earth every single fucking time. You and Gojo with your perfect little lives look at me like a charity case to be fixed.”

“We have never looked at you like a charity case.” His tone was firm.

“Really? Then what the fuck do you look at me like, huh?” You press the question circling back around. “Is it pity? Did the two of you see some poor stray that you wanted to take in and keep like a pet when we met at university? Is that it?”

His eyes were hard, unreadable.

“It is that. You pity me.”

“Jesus, no! We don’t pity you- I don’t pity you! Is it so hard to believe that I care about you?”

“Yes, it is! There’s no reason for you to care,”

“What the hell wouldn’t I care?” Suguru’s voice raised to a shout, frustration cracking his facade.

“Because I’m just like everyone you hate!” Your chest heaves as you let out a flood of emotions. “ No ambitions, contributing nothing to society, just leeching off others.”

“You’re not like them.”

“I am. On paper, I’m exactly like them. The only reason that you’d keep me around is because it makes you feel good to watch me suffer or you pity me.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t pity you?” His voice cracked with emotion, but you didn’t stop.

“Then tell me why you care!” It comes out so desperately. You're begging him for understanding, to know why he stays. To know why he lets you in.

For once he looked uncertain. His mask slipped, revealing the cracks in his facade. It’s been so long since you’ve seen underneath it you’d almost forgotten how he looked when he wasn’t pretending to be happy.

“Or is it that you don’t care?”

Something flashed in his eyes, flickerings of things you only saw when he looked at Gojo. He opens his mouth to speak and then closes it. There's a fear in his eyes, like if he acts in this moment something may crack and crumble like the foundation of a house that leaves him crumpled in a pile of wood. He doesn’t, or won’t, give you an answer.

So you turn on your heel, the conversation over in your mind, and head to the front door. You’ll go up and pack a bag before heading across town and crashing on Shoko and Utahime’s couch before calling your parents and groveling to them.

But as you reach the door, Suguru reaches you. His arm wraps around your waist and he spins you around and pushes your back against it. He’s got you pinned.

“It’s because I love you.” It’s the faintest breeze that passes from his lips, like a car driving past on a hot day, sweat making your shirt stick to you. “I care because I love you.”

Everything is frozen in a still frame. Neither one of you moves, neither one of you breathes. A still moment that holds you tight, threatens to squeeze you so tightly your heart bursts.

“What do you mean by that?” You swallow as you speak, like pebbles in your throat.

Suguru blinks back tears, looking up and then back at you. “That I love you. Fuck! I’m in love with you.”

Disbelief makes your voice shake. “No, you’re not not. You’re with Satoru.”

“And? I can’t love both of you?”

“No, you can’t,” Hypocrisy tastes acrid on your tongue. You know damn well you could never pick between the two of them, that this blighted jealousy you feel towards them is more the fact they have the other rather than their success. It’s something you don’t admit but it’s there. “Besides, you’re lying to me.”

“No.” His response was firm and immediate. The whole time you’d known them, their worlds had revolved around each other. They’d been the only thing for each other for so long. It was an unspoken truth that they were made for each other in a way that could only be sewn by the fabric of the universe itself. Something so profoundly and divinely created it had been written in the fabric of life at the moment of the Big Bang.

“I’ve seen you watching.” Suguru’s tone is low, cutting, it vibrates through you as he has you pinned.

A sick, icy dread wraps around your spine. It starts in your toes and crawls up your body. Your muscles lock in place as it climbs up until it's all the way in your head. Paralyzing fear grips you.

“I don't…” The lie is transparent before it comes to fruition. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” It’s brittle, cracking on your teeth as it passes through them.

“Don’t play innocent.” Suguru’s voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a blade. The tension between you tightens and winds up to pitch, but there's a current that punctuates it. One that feels heady and warm. One that excites you in the same way it embarrasses you. “I’ve seen you watching. I’ve seen you for years. The first time, maybe it was a mistake. But last week? Three weeks before that?”

Your mouth went dry, choking on the excuse that tried to bubble up. Like finely ground chalk powder coasted every surface of it. “I—”

He cuts you off before you can even try to defend yourself. “I know you get off on it too. Leave your curtains open while you touch yourself. Saying his name, my name.”

Horror twists inside you like a knife, your heart dropping to the pit of your stomach. You’d always been so careful, never acting when you thought they were home. Never want to risk exactly this happening. Your face burned like you drank half a liter of vodka in a go. Maybe you’d wake up and realize this was a nightmare. The humiliation was unbearable.

“Imagine my surprise,” Suguru continues in a low chuckle, left hand slotting perfectly against your waist, “when I came home early one day and saw that.”

The tears that had stopped in your flash of anger spill hot and fast down your cheeks. The raw, hot shame and embarrassment muddle you. It makes you want a sinkhole to open up beneath you and swallow you whole. You can’t meet his gaze, your vision blurry.

“I’m sorry. I’ll move out.” you stammer out, the words falling in a chopping spiccato, desperate to create space between the two of you. You’d never be able to face him again.

“Who said anything about moving out?” Suguru comes, pulling you closer to him till you're flush against his chest. He bends down, breath tickling your ear. You feel the sharp pressure of his teeth grazing the shell of it, a jolt going through your body. “You don’t get to leave now.” Pulling back, he meets your eyes in a half-lidded gaze.

Both of you are playing the game again. Looking for something unspoken, some cryptic clue you need to decipher. He was searching for discomfort, disgust, anything to make him draw back and stop. You searched for understanding, dissecting how it got to this point. Every moment, every glance, every touch from him that you had ever overlooked.

He always held a soft glint in his eyes when he looked at you. Something subtle, normally reserved for Satoru. It warmed the edge of his voice when he spoke and crinkled the corners of his eyes when he smiled. There was that softness for Shoko, but it was different. The one he had for you was a more reserved, pulled-back, and dialled-down version of what gripped him when he looked at Satoru. He had always viewed you this way.

The times you sat sandwiched between him and Gojo, your legs brushing against him, his arm slung around your shoulders to reach Satoru. Pulling you against him on the train, in clubs, at parties, the bump of your hips against his own. Compliments when you wore flattering, his pushing Satoru to dress you up. He liked it best when you were in shorter dresses and skirts with tights.

Suguru had always wanted you, but you had failed to notice.

Instinct took over before reason could temper it. You pushed off the door, your hands flying to the loose part of his hair at the nape of his neck. The strands feelt just as silky an shiny as they look between your fingers. Without hesitation, the space between you two diminishes. You aren’t sure who closes the distance first, but your lips lock hungry. Teeth knocking against each other as you both desperately cling to the other. It's rough and aggressive, both of you starved animals feasting on flesh. The taste of copper spreading in your mouth as he bit down on your lip making you whine. His breathing becomes your own, heady mix of desire and dark, primal urge..

His tongue pushes against yours, taking advantage of your now open mouth, wet and warm brushing against the back of your teeth, laying claim to your mouth. Geto was dominating in all aspects of his life so it was unsurprising that he set the pace and led you to where he wanted to be. He moved your legs up, patting your ass to jump, to then wrap around his waist as he pressed you against the door. You grind your hips against his growing erection as he holds you there, and you can feel the heat of him even through his pants.

Suguru pulls away panting. His eyes are half closed, lips blushed a beautiful red and damp with saliva. He moves in again, this time to your neck, where he bites down hard. You squirm as he sucks a dark and angry mark, his mark, on your skin. The bite of his teeth against your skin feels right. It eats away at the jealous monster inside you every second he’s latched onto you.

Fed up with the door, Suguru opens it and carries you through the threshold. He moves the two of you through the genkan, toeing off his shoes while you kick your own off, and into the living room where he drops you on the couch. There’s an air about him, so intense it’s nearly oppressive, as his fingers inch up underneath your sweater, sliding it off of you. It’s a predator circling their prey, the success of a hunt now that he’s got you on your back against the soft fabric of the couch. He’d been waiting for this far longer than you thought and it spurs you on.

Suguru moves in tandem with you, tugging off his sweater and button-up shirt, exposing his happy trail. The dark dusting of hair makes your mouth water. Once his shirt is off, his hands cover your chest through your bra, palming your tits like stress balls. It's unpadded and lacey, and it lets him feel as if your nipples get hard. He pushes the cups down, leaving them to rest under your breasts, and pushes them up slightly, accentuated by your being on your back.

His fingertips close around your nipples as he pinches and pulls at them. You knew how much of a sadist he could be. One night you watched him edge Satoru for an hour straight. Seen how hot he looked with Gojo in his mouth as he writhed around. A sweet moan escaped you as he played with your nipples and rolled his hips against yours. It makes your head feel fuzzy, thoughts focusing purely on him. His weight presses down on you, so heavy and right it makes you ache.

You lunge forward, propping yourself up on your elbows to kiss him again. It’s just as messy and hungry as before, years of built-up desire between the two of you saturating your every pore. It settles in your bones that pulses in time with your heart.

Suguru doesn’t separate from you, but he slides your trousers and underwear off in one go as you kick your socks off. He tugs his own off hastily, boxer briefs following in turn. His public hair is trimmed, a close crop like you’ve seen it before. Like every other aspect of him, it’s neatly maintained, put into its place, and kept there.

His fingers dig into the flesh of your hips as he pulls your hips up by his head. Your back is half off the sofa as he places your legs over his shoulders and parts your core with his fingers. He blows cold air onto your clit that makes you squirm before he licks your clit. Moaning, you try to grind yourself against his face but his hands tighten on your hips, holding them firm. You’d get what he wanted to give you. Fight against it and get nothing, or accept it.

He was slow to start. His tongue lazily explores you, getting familiar with your taste. It pushed against your clit, wide and flat, before swirling his tongue around it. The ball of his tongue piercing rubbed against the most sensitive part of you. Your hips jerk forward and he looks up, a warning in his eyes, but he doesn’t stop. Suguru curls his tongue again, this time moving it side to side, letting his piercing catch on your clit purposefully. Every action he takes is measured as he picks up speed while latching his lips around it to add delicious suction. Two of his fingers slide inside you, reaching far deeper than your own ever could. He pumps them in and out of you, driving you closer to the edge.

You felt your pussy drooling, liquid gushing out and covering his chin. The muscles in your abdomen tightened with each passing second until you swore they'd cramp. It was all too much as you came, jerking and contracting in on yourself. Black spots dot your vision as your world shakes on this axis.

Sugru watched as you came, pulling back from your pussy to stare at your face. His eyes never left yours as he rubbed soothing circles into your skin with his thumbs. He could cover nearly all of you with how big his hands were, warm and calloused. Minus a cold spot on his left hand.

His engagement ring.

The silver felt like it burned your skin as he smiled at you and planted a kiss on your inner thigh. It glimmers in the low light, bouncing light off like a homing beacon. Bubbling sickness, bile rising in your throat, disgust palming at your skin. What had you just done? You’ve just violated a boundary so gigantic with Suguru. Let your own selfish need for intimacy lead you to this. He was engaged to your best friend. They were getting married next year.

You rushed to grab your clothes, panic surging through you. The world spins around you.

“What’s wrong?”

“We shouldn’t have done that,” you buttoned up your trousers, throwing your sweater on. Your hair is a mess and your skin feels clammy and flushed. The need to vomit is overwhelming. “This was a mistake.”

Suguru’s rising from the couch, trying to grab you, stopping you from moving but you dodge his hand. “A mistake?”

Your left hand meets your mouth as you bite the nail of your thumb. It clicks against your front teeth.

“Satoru won’t mind-”

“A mistake Suguru,” You shake your head, bending down and grabbing the rest of your stuff. “Please. Just forget this.” Without waiting for his reply, you run up the stairs and slam the door behind you.

You really are a bitch.

#uzuri writes #jjk fanfic #jjk imagines #satosugu x reader #jjk imagine #satosugu imagine #gojo satoru imagine #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #geto suguru #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru imagine #gojo x reader #geto x reader #i swear this gets resolved and everyones happy

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dyns33 · 3 months ago

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New life

!! SPOILERS - Careful, Venom The last dance spoilers here !!!

I was wondering while watching the movie if that would give me new ideas for Eddie and his tiny alien, and yes, yes it did.

When Y/N had met Eddie Brock in a New York cafe, he had hesitated at first before accepting her into his life.

It had taken him several weeks to open up, talk to her, understand that she liked him, and then admit that he liked her too.

Once he had offered her his trust, he had explained why to her. Really explained everything, adding that he understood that she thought he was crazy and that she would decide to run away from him when he was done.

First, he had completely ruined his career and his relationship with his fiancée Anne by being selfish and stupid. For a long time, Eddie had refused to see the truth, making excuses, but he had to admit that it was all his fault.

Then, there was Venom. The alien symbiote who had brought as much joy as problems into his existence, before sacrificing himself to save him, along with the rest of humanity.

"He was my best friend." he said, trying to hold back his sobs. "He could be annoying, but I wasn't a gift either. We were supposed to see the Statue of Liberty together, but… Well. I miss him a lot. It's weird not hearing from him all the time. It's hard without him."

Not only did these revelations not scare Y/N away, but she found herself even more in love and touched by this wounded man who was doing his best to move forward despite everything he had been through.

Like a wild animal, it took a little more time to reassure Eddie that she really loved him and especially that he wasn't going to lose her.

For their first date, he offered her an ice cream, not far from Lady Liberty. Y/N took his hand, to support him, but especially so that he knew that she wasn't going to try to make him forget Venom.

Just because they were together didn't erase everything he'd experienced with his alien parasite friend, who was a lot like a boyfriend when he told her all their stories.

"Nah, just a friend."

"You said you loved each other."

"Like buddies."

"You had arguments as a couple. He was jealous and protective. You gave him chocolate on Valentine's Day."

"Once ! And to keep him quiet. And the rest was just a symbiote thing."

"You admitted to me that he 'took care of' your erections when he was in full form. Why did you have erections anyway ?"

"… Shit, I was in a relationship with Vee."

He cried again, in shock. Not because he was ashamed, but because he had not understood the nature of their relationship, much more intense than simple friendship. He did not blame Y/N for opening his eyes, as she did not hold back from doing so, thinking that it was necessary for him to grieve properly.

Several months passed, life continuing in an excellent direction.

After using his contacts and abilities, Eddie Brock had become a formidable reporter in New York, even if he was a little more careful about his methods and the people he wrote about.

In his private life, he made Y/N very happy, learning from his past mistakes to become the best boyfriend possible. No secrets, no lies, no manipulation to get information for an article. They were not in symbiosis, but almost.

Much more relaxed and open than before, he kept his calm in most situations. Even when they had some cockroach problems. Or rather one cockroach problem.

"It's still there." Eddie noted while drinking his coffee, observing the insect that was partially hidden behind the couch.

"Do you want me to call someone ?"

"Nah. He doesn't hurt anyone, that little guy. We don't leave food lying around, we throw out our trash. No point in staying here or calling his friends. He must be lost, he'll leave eventually."

"What if he thinks you're so cool that he tells the others to come over just so he can watch you sleep ?"

"Eww, babe, gross. Listen, if he's still here in a week, I'll take care of him. But it must be a neighbor with questionable hygiene who has a colony, he'll go back there."

The cockroach stayed, but like Eddie had said, he wasn't that much of a nuisance. Most of the time he was nowhere to be found, otherwise he stayed in his corner.

Strangely, he showed up when the couple was together, as if he was waiting to watch them. His presence was still abnormal, in addition to being possibly dirty, so Y/N decided to take matters into her own hands, trying to get him out.

"I know you're the most impossible thing to kill on this Earth." she said to the cockroach that was hiding under the closet. "And besides, Eddie decided he didn't want you to die, so let me put you in this jar, I'll take you to a landfill, and you'll be the happiest little cockroach, okay ?"

Of course, the insect wasn't ready to cooperate, putting itself as far away as possible, in an impossible place to reach. It was ridiculous, but Y/N had the impression that it understood perfectly what she was saying.

Eddie found her on the living room floor, her hand under the closet, trying for several hours to catch it.

"Need some help ?"

"Thanks, Eddie, it's between him and me now."

"Poor little thing that has no chance against someone stronger than them. Accept that he's winning."

"You're hilarious. He's staring at me without moving, he's making fun of me, it's personal. I'm pretty sure I saw him smile."

"You been upside down for a long time, babe ?" he asked as he sat down next to her, rubbing her back. "Come on, I'll take care of it, I'll get rid of the horrible monster."

"No, Eddie… Please…"

It was probably the first time someone had dropped their shoe to cry and try to hug a cockroach, but Eddie being an extraordinary man, Y/N was only half surprised. Same thing when the insect started talking again, small tentacles coming out of it to wrap around her boyfriend. She had thought she had imagined that voice.

Losing its dark color, the creature was thrown out the window, while the tentacles remained around Eddie, before disappearing, as if absorbed by his heart. Then an alien head appeared near his shoulder.

"Wait… Is that Venom ?" she asked, a bit lost. "You told me he was dead."

"I thought so too ! Last time, he was just exhausted but still inside me, but this time… Vee, I thought I'd never see you again !"

"Eddie… I told you it wasn't goodbye. It took me a lot longer than I thought to find you. Cockroaches are tough, but their legs are tiny, not as fast as a horse. And then… I saw you with your new love. So I didn't know if you'd want me to come back."

"But of course I…"

Remembering the discussion they had had, Eddie turned to Y/N, as if he was scared. Now that he knew the feelings he had for his symbiote, without ever realizing it when they were together, it was embarrassing to say that he wanted him back while he was in a relationship with her.

Maybe Venom had insisted for a long time that he get back with Anne, because it seemed to be the key to his host's happiness, but then there had been no one between them.

The alien didn't know Y/N. He had spent several days observing her, seeing if she was good enough for his Eddie, and after accepting that she was a suitable partner, he had wondered if he wasn't going to ruin everything by showing himself.

After all, Eddie had often said that it was his fault that he had lost everything. Venom didn't agree, he knew that most of his host's problems were the result of his bad decisions, but maybe he had turned his life upside down a bit, forcing him to give up certain things for him, like Vee had given up certain things to please him.

A relationship was certainly one of those things. With Anne, it might have been possible since she knew about the symbiote, but someone new ? That would have been hard to sell.

"You told her about me ?" Venom realized as he stared at Y/N. "Weren't you ashamed ? Didn't you repress your feelings because of the stupid social conventions that say men should be strong and insensitive ?"

"Of course I told her about you. I made a lot of resolutions after… After. I wanted to honor your memory, while being honest with Y/N."

"That's good, Eddie ! You're a little less of a loser !"

"Thanks, buddy, so nice."

Poor Eddie grimaced, probably accepting that this insult was a compliment, but Y/N quickly understood that there was a parallel, silent discussion going on between them in his head. She could easily guess that Venom was wondering if he would be able to stay, if she would leave because of him, or worse if his host would have to make a choice, which would make him unhappy.

Ensuring the happiness of his human was so important to him that the symbiote would have been ready to stay hidden under their couch, to be close to him without risking disturbing him. Who could hate such an adorable alien ?

"If we don't adopt chickens, and we buy lots of chocolate, I guess cohabitation won't be impossible." she smiled shyly, before they found the courage to ask her opinion.

"Babe ? Really ?"

"You really chose well, Eddie ! She might even be too good for you !"

"Thanks Vee, really super nice again. But babe, are you sure ? He can be… We are… You can say it if you find it weird."

"It's weird, but it doesn't bother me."

Almost every day, Eddie kissed her tenderly, in the morning, before leaving for work, when entering their apartment, when they went to sleep, but he had never been so passionate when he kissed her at that moment, repeating that he loved her.

As if he had been there forever, the alien had surrounded them with his tentacles in an attempt of a hug, commenting on the scene that he considered the most beautiful and romantic thing he had ever seen, even better than in his favorite telenovela with Maximiliano. He immediately ordered them to watch it when Y/N told him that she didn't know who he was talking about.

Not as invested, Eddie fell asleep on the sofa, keeping her in his arms and snoring lightly in her neck, while Venom explained the previous episodes to her with great excitement, as if everything was normal.

#venom #venom the last dance #spoilers #eddie brock x reader #eddie brock imagine #eddie brock #eddie brock fanfiction

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papiliotao · 1 year ago

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꒰ 𝒓𝒐𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒔 ✩࿐

pairings: alhaitham, kaveh, kazuha, lyney, scaramouche, and xiao x gn!reader (separate)

content: fluff, modern au, college au, the reader is a sleep-deprived student, correction: everyone in this fic is a sleep-deprived student, cuddling, reader is sick in scara’s, venti makes a cameo in kazuha’s part, reverse comfort in kaveh’s

summary: small scenarios with the genshin boys as your roommates! ♡

a/n: this has been sitting in my drafts for a while, so i decided to finally finish it up. i hope you enjoy!

₊˚ପ ALHAITHAM

Tonight, it feels like endless night ebbs and flows into the very core of your being, chilling you with fragments of a glacial atmosphere.

It’s cold.

Even with multiple blankets wrapped around you, you can’t help but shiver, shake like a vibrant autumn leaf in a passing zephyr. Winter is approaching, and unfortunately for you, you may have relished a little too much in the gilded threads of summer warmth that had graced the world a few months prior. For now, you’re unable to stand the gradual freeze that’s beginning to spread throughout your city.

Slumber is tempting. It lures you in, wrapping you in a blanket weaved of starlight and dreams. However, it’s all an illusion. In reality, you’re far from sleep. You know that there’s no way you’ll be able to pass the gateway into the oneiric realm. Not with the sensation of frostbite threatening to consume you whole.

Eventually, you decide to get up. You’re certain that you won’t be able to fall asleep, at least, not without more blankets, so you decide to make your way to Alhaitham’s room to ask if he has any spares.

Although you’d normally feel guilty for rousing someone from slumber, it’s not that late as of right now. Either way, you’re quite certain that your roommate is still wide awake, most likely losing himself amongst the yellowed pages of a verbose book. After all, he always seems to have his nose buried in a complex tome, filled with words that make your brain hurt.

Slowly, you drag yourself out from under the plush covers of your bed. The floorboards groan slightly as you stand, exhaling under the pressure of your footsteps. You make your way down a hallway drowned in shades of midnight, making your way towards the golden light seeping out into the corridor from under the cracks of a closed door.

The door to Alhaitham’s room.

You knock, the sound seemingly echoing down the walls of the hall, repeating in a chorus of onomatopoeia.

A few seconds pass before the door opens to reveal Alhaitham. Strands of silver hair messily frame his face, and yet as the aquamarine hues of his irises meet your gaze, you find that he’s just as dazzling as ever.

“Do you need something?” he asks, his voice as flat and monotonous as always. As usual, your roommate’s front doesn’t betray a single hint of emotion. Not even irritation.

You pause for a moment, still a little intimidated by Alhaitham. Although you’ve been living together for a while now, his apathetic demeanour can be slightly off-putting at times. Nonetheless, you eventually manage to steel your nerves.

“Yeah,” you say. The word comes tumbling out of your mouth clumsily. “Do you happen to have any extra blankets?”

Alhaitham pauses for a moment, seemingly deep in thought.

You hold your breath, hoping that he’ll say yes, and you’ll be able to get this over with.

However, he shakes his head, and you feel your heart drop, shattering into a thousand shards of fragmented ruby.

“Oh,” you sigh, trying your best to hide the dejected expression overtaking your features. “That’s okay. Sorry for bothering you.”

You turn away, ready to head back to your room, but Alhaitham’s voice stops you.

“I think it’s safe to presume you wanted a blanket because you were cold, right?”

It’s a rhetorical question, so you don’t bother to answer it. Instead, you freeze, becoming akin to a statue carved of pale blue ice.

“Then allow me to propose an alternate solution.”

You turn around, meeting Alhaitham’s eyes once more. Lakes of turquoise, typically devoid of emotion, are now filled with a particular spark. You can’t quite determine what it is, but there’s a subtle glimmer — barely visible, but it’s there.

“Why don’t you stay in my room for the night?”

Your eyes widen, and you feel your jaw drop. For a moment, you just stand there, absolutely still and dumbfounded.

Perhaps you had heard Alhaitham wrong. Or maybe your mind is playing tricks on you, making mirages materialize out of nothing. The blank expression painted over your roommate’s features certainly makes you think so.

“Excuse me?” you blink languidly, staring at Alhaitham as if he’ll disappear into thin air if you take your eyes off him.

“I said why don’t you stay in my room for the night?” he repeats nonchalantly, the evening chill seemingly intertwining itself into his tone. His gaze remains fixated on you.

Your mind blanks for a second, each intricate acrylic line of a composition painted over, leaving you with nothing but an empty canvas. As you stand still, a thousand scenarios seem to flash through your head, filling up the blank space with a myriad of thoughts — some pleasant and some unpleasant. However, you soon realize that you don’t have time to weigh all the pros and cons of your decision, as Alhaitham is staring at you intently, awaiting your answer.

“Sure,” you blurt out.

You’re not sure what compels you to accept his proposal. Perhaps it’s your longing for the comfort of shared warmth. Perhaps it’s a result of your inability to say no to others due to a fear of disappointing them. Or perhaps it’s because you’ve grown a lot closer to Alhaitham than you’d care to admit.

Although you’re still slightly intimidated by him, you’re certain that he’d never do anything to harm you. And there are even times where he shows he has your best interests in mind (despite the fact that you were initially under the impression that he cared little for others).

You’re snapped out of your trance of reminiscence as Alhaitham speaks once more.

“Alright,” he says, taking your hand and leading you over to his bed. His grip is firm — not suffocating, but at the same time, not so soft that the connection between the two of you would be easily severed.

Alhaitham’s touch sends butterflies, tinted a colour reminiscent of spring blossoms, dancing within the pit of your stomach. It’s enchanting, and at this rate, you’re not sure how you’ll be able to handle sleeping in the same bed as him.

He allows you to climb into bed first, tucking you in with an unexpected amount of care. You know Alhaitham’s not exactly the cold-hearted jerk many make him out to be, but you didn’t anticipate that he’d be this gentle, his touch akin to the caress of sunlight on a spring day.

After the man ensures that you’re cozy, he lies down beside you, embracing you. As he does so, you feel a wave of heat overwhelm you. To your relief, the frigidness that had once gnawed at your very soul is now gone, but unfortunately, you’re faced with a new problem.

Alhaitham’s actions have flustered you, and to your misfortune, it feels as though crimson embers of embarrassment are bursting into flames far too quickly for your liking.

You’ve solved one issue, but in turn, you’ve accidentally created another.

This is going to be a long night.

₊˚ପ KAVEH

It’s no secret that your roommate is a perfectionist.

Whenever his eyebrows knit up in a jumble of discontent and pools of liquid ruby tinged with sunsets glint with hints of frustration, it becomes obvious what’s going on. He’s spent too long trying to perfect yet another assignment. The bags that seem to perpetually line the undersides of his eyes are dark shadows — serving as an eternal reminder of the man’s exhaustion.

There are times where you find him hunched over his desk, teetering on a thin tightrope, walking a line between the waking world and a wonderland of dreams. Of course, he refuses to succumb to the temptations of a golden slumber time and time again, forcing himself to fixate on his projects until he’s finished and happy with the final product.

Today is one of those days. The cold light that leaks through the cracks beneath the door to Kaveh’s room seeps into the hallway, serving as a warning written in a display of molten opalescence.

Stark white. Cutting through the darkness of deep midnights with ease.

It’s jarring, and when you press your ear to the door and listen carefully, you manage to make out the sound of Kaveh muttering underneath his breath.

You know you have to do something. Now. Before your roommate decides to work himself into a stupor again.

You take a deep breath, inhaling night air reminiscent of the crystalline waters. It’s refreshing, and as you breathe out, a sense of tranquility washes over you.

Steeling yourself, you knock on Kaveh’s door, the sound seemingly reverberating through the corridor in a myriad of echoes.

“[Name]? Is that you?” he asks, his voice ringing out loudly, fragmenting and shattering the quiet ambience.

You hear the sounds of drawers opening and closing, papers rustling, and footsteps falling.

“There’s no point in hiding anything,” you tell your roommate, picturing the distress swirling like nebulae in his vibrant crimson eyes. “I know you’ve been working late again.”

The noises come to a halt, and peace returns to the late night atmosphere once more. Soon, the sound of soft footsteps fills your senses, gradually growing louder in a crescendo until you’re sure that Kaveh is right in front of the door.

Not a second later, it swings open to reveal a sleep-deprived Kaveh clad in pyjamas.

“Alright, I’ll admit it,” he sighs. “You caught me red-handed.”

Silence permeates your senses for a few seconds, but the illusion of stillness is quickly shattered as Kaveh breathes out a sigh.

“I just can’t seem to figure out this one last thing,” he groans, burying his head in his hands. “I seriously can’t take it anymore. It’s driving me insane.”

For a few seconds, his gaze remains averted, staring down at the wooden finish of his desk, tinted a subtle peach under the topaz shades of light spilling from Kaveh’s lamp. If you didn’t know any better, you would have sworn that he had fallen asleep. However, your eyes eventually meet hues of dulled rose, glittering with a faint spark concealed by exhaustion.

“You should rest,” you tell your roommate, cautiously placing a hand on his shoulder. To your relief, he doesn’t flinch or pull away when you touch him. He simply slumps and begins to stand up.

“I suppose you’re right,” he speaks slowly, his voice laced with resignation. “Maybe a short break will help me clear my mind.”

Kaveh walks over to his bed, brushing locks of sunshine away from his eyes. The mattress sinks like quicksand as he lies down and tucks himself under the covers, enveloping him in layers upon layers of plush comfort.

You turn away, switching Kaveh’s lamp off before you head back to the door. However, just as you’re about to leave, Kaveh calls your name.

“[Name],” Kaveh starts, his voice seemingly amplified by the abyssal midnight overtaking your surroundings.

You spin around, only to be met with the sight of Kaveh’s silhouette outlined against backdrops of navy and black, enveloping the world in curtains of phantasmagoric silk.

“Can you stay with me?” he asks. His voice trembles slightly, and he sounds sheepish — almost shy. “It’s just that, if I don’t have you around, I might convince myself to start working again.”

You freeze.

One second.

Two seconds.

Three seconds.

It takes three seconds for you to fully process Kaveh’s request, and when you do, you feel your heart skip a beat.

“I would be happy to.”

And with Kaveh’s permission, you climb under the covers of his bed with him. He wraps an arm around you. The position feels far too intimate for two roommates who harbour nothing more than platonic feelings for each other, but you decide that that’s a problem for future you to address.

For now, you decide to close your eyes and seek solace in a realm of breathtaking dreamscapes. Finding joy in each cotton candy cloud, each droplet of crystal rain, and each gilded leaf within a fantastical world found far away from reality.

And yet as you drift off to sleep, you find that there’s one thing in the waking world that has become far more tantalizing than anything your imagination could ever conjure: the warmth of Kaveh’s embrace.

₊˚ପ KAZUHA

Golden ribbons of warmth caress your face as you open your eyes to find yourself awake again. A wave of tranquility washes over you, weighing down your eyelids with a serene lullaby — an ode to quiet mornings spent in the solace of your home. You want nothing more than to stay in bed for a few more minutes, but you have classes.

Groggily, you stretch and then pick your phone up from where it’s sitting on your nightstand in order to check the time. The screen lights up with a cold radiance, a stark contrast to the gilded rays of the sun, as you turn it on.

And that’s when all hell breaks loose.

It’s 9:30 a.m., and you’ve already missed the start of your first class. You grimace internally, but you can’t dwell on your feelings for too long. After all, the longer you delay, the more you’ll miss.

You change in record time, pulling on a comfortable hoodie and jeans, grab a few of your belongings, and rush out the door.

The chilly autumn air brushes against your skin as you make your way to class, and the enticing fragrance of sap hits your nose, tantalizing you with a perfume that carries nostalgic memories. In the corners of your vision, you watch as leaves coloured shades of vivid crimson, marigold, and amber swirl in a waltz signaling the end of summer and the beginnings of harsher days. The scenery is beautiful, and if you weren’t in a panic, you would have stopped to admire it. However, you force yourself to ignore the scenes around you, continuing to focus on your primary objective.

When you arrive at the lecture hall, you’re panting. Simple oxygen feels like ambrosia to you, sweet and satisfying, refreshing in a way that it’s never been before. For a few moments, you stand outside the room and catch your breath. With each inhale and exhale, you get closer and closer to finding a rhythm until finally, you’re no longer gasping for air.

Quietly, you walk into class, trying your best to avoid disturbing anyone. Thankfully, nobody seems to notice as you take a seat near the back of the hall, settling down in your seat. Time passes slowly as class continues on, and it almost feels like universal laws operate differently within the small bubble of the room you’re currently sitting in. Everything seems to take an eternity, and you can’t do anything except watch the minutes tick by, each addition of one moving you closer and closer to the end of a mundane lecture.

It feels like the moment will never arrive, but eventually, you’re dismissed. Thankfully, there’s quite a while until you have to go to your next class, so you decide to wander around for a while.

For a while, you stroll aimlessly, eventually finding yourself back outdoors once more. Now, you can truly savour the beauty of your surroundings, relish in the splendor of each flaming leaf that drifts by and each rivulet of tepid light that pierces through the crystalline coolness of the autumn air.

You stand there for a while, simply enjoying a break after a hectic morning.

Until something else — or rather, someone else — catches your eye.

Under the shade of a maple tree stands your roommate, basking in the glory of a crimson waterfall composed entirely of maple leaves dancing gracefully until they hit the ground. His platinum hair is tied back in its usual ponytail, each strand of silken moonlight swaying as a gentle zephyr blows by, and his eyes are a shade of ruby that flawlessly mimics the autumnal landscape.

He’s as breathtaking as ever.

But before you can admire him for long, hues of starglitter and rose petals meet your gaze, and a small smile dances across his lips. Without a word, he walks over to you.

“Running into you here is certainly a pleasant surprise,” he says, his grin widening.

“You say that as if we don’t already live together,” you remark, laughing a little.

He chuckles, the sound as light and airy as autumn winds swirling leaves around in a finale of farewells. The lighthearted atmosphere is truly euphoric, especially after such a stressful morning.

Of course, good things never last for long.

“Good morning, Kazuha. Good morning, [name]. How’s my favourite couple?” a cheery voice asks. In the edges of your vision, you see a figure donning twin braids of sapphire and turquoise approaching. It’s Venti — one of Kazuha’s friends.

Both you and Kazuha freeze, a frigidity crystallizing the ambience into icy fractals. And yet at the same time, you can feel your face beginning to heat up.

Couple?

Before you can clear up the misunderstanding, Kazuha speaks.

“Good morning to you too, Venti,” he says. “We’re doing well, but I’m afraid you’re mistaken.” Kazuha subtly averts his gaze, staring at the ground, but you swear you can see a blush dawning on his cheeks in shades of sunset. “[Name] and I aren’t a couple.”

“Oh really?” Venti asks teasingly, giggling in a manner that sounds almost maniacal, “then why are they wearing your hoodie?”

You look down, and sure enough, the top you chose to wear today was Kazuha’s. He had allowed you to borrow it a few days ago when you complained about the chilly autumn weather, and you had forgotten to return it. Apparently you were in such a rush this morning that you pulled it on without a second thought.

“It was an accident,” you blurt out, wanting to clear up the misconception as soon as possible. “I woke up late, and I was in a hurry.”

“Uh huh,” Venti nods, his tone laced with sarcasm. “Sure. I believe you.”

“No, seriously. We’re not a couple,” you reiterate, sighing as Venti laughs quietly.

“Whatever you say,” he says. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have somewhere to be. I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone.”

Without another word, Venti skips off, jubilantly humming to himself. And now, you’re alone with Kazuha, left to deal with the awkward aftermath of Venti’s assumptions.

“That was… interesting,” you remark.

Kazuha nods.

“I hope you didn’t feel too uncomfortable,” he says, smiling at you gently, a light blush still coating his cheeks. Although you’ll never admit it out loud, you find him quite cute when he’s flustered. Venti would have a field day if he knew you found your roommate so adorable.

“I’m fine,” you reassure Kazuha, “and I’ll return your hoodie to you as soon as possible,” you add.

However, to your surprise, Kazuha shakes his head.

“You can keep it if you want,” he tells you.

“Really?”

Kazuha chuckles.

“Really,” he assures you. “As long as you don’t mind being mistaken for a couple, that is. I know I certainly don’t.”

₊˚ପ LYNEY

“Lyney, if I remember correctly, you told me you perform magic as a sort of side hustle, right?” you ask your roommate.

The question comes from out of the blue, but you want nothing more than to learn about the man you’ve recently grown to be infatuated with. Besides, he’ll probably think nothing of it; it’s only natural for someone to want to get to know their roommate.

“Yeah, I guess you’d be right,” he responds, averting his gaze from his phone and glancing at you. “Although I’d say it’s more about putting on a good show than the money.”

Lilac hues make your mind go blank as you make eye contact, enchanting you with oceans full of stardust and sunshine alike. Lilac. It’s a colour you’ve come to adore. Before meeting Lyney, it was a shade known to you as the border between night and day, mixed into compositions of dawning sunrises and fading sunsets. But now, it’s synonymous with magic and mystery, and it’s all thanks to your charming roommate.

“Oh, I see,” you mutter.

You’re surprised that your voice doesn’t end up shaking. Simply looking into Lyney’s eyes is causing your heart to beat rapidly, igniting crimson sparks of giddiness and glee with each thump.

Perhaps this is what it feels like to be in love.

“Why do you ask?” Lyney inquires, tilting his head slightly. “Are you interested in seeing a trick?”

Lyney flashes a charming smile at you — a smile embodying the enigmatic charms of various twilight hues. He reaches his hand up to brush the few strands of dusky hair that had fallen in front of his eyes away, and somehow, the subtle action makes you find him all the more attractive.

“I would love to,” you say, “if it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”

You wait with bated breath, feeling the whole world still as you await Lyney’s response. The carefree atmosphere solidifies into something denser, heavier, as tension begins to build.

“Well, I usually don’t do private shows like this, especially not out of the blue,” he remarks.

For a second, you feel your smile fall.

“But since it’s you, I can try,” Lyney says.

A grins dances upon your lips once more, and the elation from before comes back in full force. Unbridled adoration swirls through your heart, taking down each and every glacial barrier in a roaring tempest of rose and vermillion. With every day that passes, you feel yourself falling deeper and deeper into the clutches of romantic fantasies.

“Thank you.”

With that, Lyney rushes to his room. A few seconds later, he returns with some props and a top hat, midnight black adorned with velvety scarlet and magenta detailing, perched upon his head.

He performs for you, and it’s absolutely enamouring. His prowess is incredible, and it’s clear he’s enjoying putting on a show for you. The entire performance is interesting, captivating. However, it’s Lyney’s last act that stands out to you most of all.

“I��m sure you’re wondering what my grand finale will be,” Lyney announces with a fiery sort of flamboyance. It’s amusing because you’re the only audience member, but at the same time, slightly endearing.

He takes his hat off, reaching his hand into the void within. Slowly, he pulls something out.

The verdant green of a stem lined with thorns appears first. Then you catch sight of luscious leaves. And lastly, the delicate petals of a rose enter your line of vision. They’re tinted a vibrant purple, reminiscent of sparkling amethysts.

“For you,” Lyney says, handing you the flower.

Upon closer examination, you note that the rose is unblemished. It’s perfect. You wonder if Lyney put any thought into picking out this particular flower, but you brush the thought off. Embers of newly-kindled feelings of romance brush against your skin.

You’re flustered.

Flustered beyond measure.

Awkwardly, you take the rose from Lyney, your heart fluttering as your fingers accidentally bump against his. His skin is soft, and his touch is tantalizing. You wouldn’t mind feeling his hand in yours.

“Thank you,” you manage to whisper, averting your gaze and looking anywhere but into the very lavender irises that will never fail to enchant you. “It’s stunning.”

“A stunning flower for a stunning person,” Lyney says. The sincerity lacing his tone doesn’t go unnoticed, and you have to stop yourself from melting on the spot. “Do you know what the purple rose represents?”

You shake your head as sudden curiosity and cupid’s final arrow strike simultaneously.

He leans in, moving so close that you can feel strands of silken platinum tickle your skin. A soft breath lightly brushes against your ear as he opens his mouth to speak.

“Love at first sight.”

₊˚ପ SCARAMOUCHE

Weak beams of winter light filter through the curtains of the window beside your bed, illuminating your room with a radiance tinted pale blue. With a foggy mind, you make your way over to the window, leaving the warmth and comfort of your covers to do so. The chill pokes at your skin like a thousand miniature needles of ice, and yet you continue on.

As soon as velvety veils of fabric fall away from glass panes, glacial sunshine spills through. The panoramic scenery that welcomes you is a glazed-over landscape, thick blankets of pure white sprinkled with glimmers of stardust. Even the branches of the tall evergreen trees surrounding your home are dusted with powdered opal. Nothing is free from the frigid caress of winter, and you’re suddenly reminded of this fact as you start coughing.

Oh. You’re sick.

You blink slowly, an unbearable headache making itself known by jumbling your thoughts into nothing more than incoherence. Begrudgingly, you decide to lie back down, pulling a few blankets over you in order to stay warm. However, the layer of plush protection isn’t enough to shield you, as shivers continue to wrack your body.

For a while, you just lie there, huddled and trying to cling onto any remaining heat, any remaining comfort. You close your eyes, feeling absolutely helpless against the coolness that threatens to permeate the very essence of your being. The world around you begins to become distant as grogginess and discomfort plague you, but soon enough, you’re snapped out of your haze.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The last thing you want to do is answer the door.

“[Name]? Are you in there?” your roommate, Scaramouche, calls. As usual, irritation laces his tone, but there’s something new this time. Maybe you’re delusional, but it almost sounds like concern.

“Yeah. Come in,” you manage to respond.

Your voice is unsurprisingly hoarse, and you have to strain in order to be heard. However, in the end, it seems that you were just loud enough because seconds later, the door opens with a click. In its wake, a man with hair reminiscent of desolate midnights walks in. Soon enough, you find your gaze meeting hues of deep twilight fading into a paler shade of periwinkle akin to the colour of forget-me-nots.

“Wow, you look awful,” Scaramouche remarks bluntly, examining you.

You feel yourself shrink under his gaze.

“Can you not?” you shoot back, mustering the strength to glare at him between coughs and sniffles. “I'm kind of dying here.”

Scaramouche scoffs.

“Fine. I’ll leave you alone,” he says, turning away and walking out the door.

Once again, silence envelops the atmosphere, ebbing and flowing throughout the greys and blues of an early winter morning in soundless waves. Although you’re thankful for the serene ambience, you also feel awfully lonely now that your roommate is gone. All you can do now is stare blankly at the wall in front of you and entertain yourself with your own thoughts.

Time becomes a blur, and yet it stretches on as well. It feels like you’re trapped in a sort of limbo — suspended in a mundane reality without any sort of respite or the slightest idea of when you’ll finally find your refuge.

That is, until you hear the hinges of the door creak once more.

Scaramouche is back.

You look up. To your surprise, the glints of starlight that dance within his indigo eyes show a rare sort of softness, and he’s carrying a bowl of soup.

Without a word, he sets the bowl on your bedside table, staring at you expectantly.

“Is that for me?” you ask.

Scaramouche groans, rolling his eyes.

“Who did you think it was for?” he says, averting his gaze.

A small smile dances across your lips. Although your roommate doesn’t want to show that he cares for you, you’re beginning to realize that he’s looking out for you in his own way.

“Thank you,” you respond. However, just as you’re about to reach for the soup, you’re attacked by another fit of coughs.

Scaramouche’s eyes fixate on you once more, and he sighs.

“Do you need me to spoon feed you or something?” Although it sounds like he’s mocking you, you can tell he’s serious to some extent.

“Do you want to feed me?” you say, trying to muster a playful tone. Even though you’re sick, teasing Scaramouche is as fun as ever.

“I will if it means you’ll shut up,” he mutters, taking the bowl carefully and scooping up a spoon of the soup.

With caution and a shocking amount of attentiveness, he lifts the spoon to your lips, and you open your mouth. To your surprise, the soup is actually quite tasty. You didn't expect your roommate to be such a good cook.

“How was it?” Scaramouche asks after you swallow. Not a hint of emotion shows through the veils of apathy he’s crafted as he awaits your response.

“It was amazing,” you remark genuinely. “I’d love to try some more of your cooking, and… thanks for taking care of me.”

Scaramouche looks away, but as he does, you notice a colour reminiscent of delicate rose petals rising to his cheeks, tinting porcelain akin to the snow outside a vivid shade.

“Don’t mention it.”

₊˚ପ XIAO

Procrastination is every student’s worst enemy, and you’re no different.

You had spent the past few days putting off your latest assignments and neglecting your studies more than you’d care to admit. It’s not that you didn’t want to work and study, but every time you tried to start on something, you’d feel put off by the copious amounts of labour you’d have to put in. And unfortunately, now you’re reaping the consequences of the seeds you had previously sowed.

It’s currently 1 a.m., and all you can see outside the window is ebony fragmented by the occasional streetlight or polychromatic star. Your eyelids are beginning to droop of their own volition, but you force yourself to stay awake. You have something important due later today, and unfortunately, you’ve barely even started on it.

So you have no choice but to continue on, allowing yourself to fall into the treacherous grasp of sleep-deprivation all because of your poor decision-making skills.

The minutes seem to count down all too quickly as you toil, yet at the same time, the mundane assignment makes every second feel like an eon. It’s a paradoxical distortion of the universe’s concepts, but it’s something you’ve grown far too accustomed to in your time as a student. Panic and hopelessness set in more and more with every tick of the clock, and eventually, you lose all sense of time, burying yourself in a pile of work.

The next time you look up, you notice that it’s well past your first scheduled break time, and you’re absolutely exhausted.

You stand up, stretching and relishing the sensation of being able to move your aching limbs after hours of sitting in the same position, mulling over boring assignments. However, your momentary respite is ruined, as it isn’t long before the creaking of a door pulls you out from the temporary euphoria that had taken over your mind.

“Hey,” a calm voice utters. It’s melodic like a beautiful song you wouldn’t mind hearing on repeat. “Are you alright?”

You turn around, and as expected you’re met with the sight of your roommate. Honeyed eyes filled with a dandelion warmth shimmer when met with the dim incandescent glow of your desk lamp, and locks of seafoam frame his pale face. Even though his hair is messy, and there are visible bags under his eyes, Xiao looks as stunning as ever.

“I’m fine,” you say, miraculously stringing together a couple of words despite your exhaustion.

“You’ve been up all night,” Xiao observes, glancing at your messy desk — a testament to the few hours you had been chipping away at your work. Somehow in that time, you’ve managed to make it look as though some sort of wild tempest had ravaged your room.

“You’re saying that as if you don’t stay up all the time,” you shoot back.

You flinch. Your tone is harsh and dripping with venom, but you hadn’t meant your words in that way. They were from a place of concern, but it seems that Xiao understands.

“That’s true,” he remarks, “but I’m not as keen on working myself to death as you are.”

A second passes.

Then you realized that you may have gotten a little bit carried away due to your momentary burst of energy — a rush of exhilaration prompted by a sense of urgency.

“Oh.”

Xiao sighs.

“You need a break,” he says, hesitantly walking over to you and intertwining your fingers with his.

His actions surprise you. Most of the time, Xiao avoids touch, but now, he’s holding your hand. The tepidness of Xiao’s skin on yours causes lucidity to wash over you. Suddenly, you feel more aware of your surroundings.

Your roommate pulls you out the door, exiting your dorm swiftly before you can refuse. Truthfully, you wouldn’t have denied him his demand anyway. Although Xiao seems like a tough person on the outside, his heart is forged of silvery moonbeams — glittering lights that illuminate the world with a subtle phosphorescence, not quite as glaring as rays of sunlight, but equally as bright, nonetheless. As a result, you’ve grown to develop a soft spot for him.

When you exit the building, the first thing you notice is the crisp, fresh air. After staying cooped up in your room for so long, it’s relieving to breathe in the liquified stardrops dissolved within the night atmosphere. Your head clears up nearly instantaneously, and finally, you feel a sense of peace wash over you.

“Feeling better?” Xiao asks, noticing the change in your expression immediately.

He’s usually not the brightest when it comes to interpreting emotions, so your prior distress must have been extremely obvious. Nonetheless, you brush off your embarrassment and swallow your pride, nodding to reassure Xiao that yes, this is helping, and yes, you’d like to stay here with him for a while longer.

Xiao seems to get what you’re trying to convey, so he continues walking, leading you under the gold-lacquered light of the lamps lining the path before you. Right now, it feels as though your hearts are connected, and for once, you’re under the impression that Xiao’s let down his walls.

You know that once your midnight escapades cease, you’ll have to face a world of pain, but perhaps it’s worth it.

After all, exhaustion is temporary, but maybe, just maybe, this lavender haze will endure forevermore.

thank you for reading!! if you liked this, i’d really appreciate it if you reblogged this fic.

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