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t-a-a-1 · 20 days ago

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The Darkest Hour

Ch.4: Guardian

Summary: After being labeled as crazy for trying to report that robot aliens exist on national television, you lose your job and move to Jasper City. In a drastic turn of fate, you meet Optimus Prime. You and Team Prime get together to find ancient relics that are vital to the Autobot's cause.

Along the way, you and Optimus start to develop feelings that go beyond comradeship.

But what happens when he discovers you've been lying all of this time?

For a better reading experience you can read this story on Ao3:

>>>

https://archiveofourown.org/works/60642838/chapters/157365316

Ch.4: Guardians

It was rather quiet at the base. Ratchet sometimes would look at the hangar's elevated floor. He thought he would see you there. He didn't find you as annoying as other humans. You were rather curious. Asking about all things Cybertronian. It was like talking to a child sometimes but he didn't mind explaining especially when you had questions about Cybertronian biology.

He didn't want to admit it but he-

Beep. Beep.

"Oh? I got a video from (Y/n)!"

Ratchet hears Jack exclaim from the sofa and this immediately gets his attention.

"I don't have enough time. I have been abducted by Decepticons. I'll lead them to the relic located in Fingal's Cave, Northern Ireland two days from now. Retrieve my cell phone from my house. I am sorry."

You didn't have time.

You rapidly click 'sent' before breaking your laptop in half. You know they were coming for you and as soon as you heard the doors open, you quickly grabbed one cigarette.

Two Decepticons dragged you across the Nemesis. You couldn't walk a lot, probably due to a broken bone or something else.

It took about three minutes to reach another door. Everything looked the same except for a few purple colors and other doors that had guards.

One of the doors opened and the two Decepticons pushed you inside, making fall to the floor.

"What is our status with the machine?"

"We still need to make modifications. The human mind is different from that of a Cybertronian," Knockout tried his best to figure out a way to make his machinery work. "Getting into her memories will be difficult without the proper materials."

"Then I trust that you will be making progress soon, Knockout."

The lights in the room blinded you. Not because they were too bright but due that you were deprived of light for two days.

Two Decepticons carried you by the arms, you were too weak to walk, your stomach hurts, your head too and your energy was low.

"Prisoner was seen scavenging on the vault."

"I was looking for food!" you muster all the strength you had to defend yourself. "I've been here for two days and haven't eaten a thing."

"Wasn't the Energon cup I left on your cell enough?"

The Decepticon was an automobile that you found a bit strange but you didn't have the right mind to question it. Things were just the way they were.

"Humans don't eat Energon, I'll die! Shouldn't you be smart enough to know that?"

A taller figure walks in front of you. His steps made the entire floor move but you had gotten used to the feeling of it. He studies you, walks around you and his optics pierce through your soul.

"The fact that you are still standing after yesterday's event is admirable. I wouldn't expect anything less from Optimus' pet."

You didn't like the sound of that but you were too tired to fight it. Your body is in pain from all the bruises and maybe a few other injuries. They had beat you up after you refused to speak. It wasn't for a long time, Megatron seemed to know that you would be a difficult one.

"What were you looking for in the vault?"

Megatron asks and you don't say a word. You look away.

"I won't ask again," he gets closer to your face. So close that you could see his optics and the mechanics behind it. There wasn't a single thing that didn't move as small as it seemed. Everything had a function and it fascinated you. "What were you looking for in the vault? Was it your bag? Anything of importance in there?"

You took a few seconds to respond and you raised a hand. You slowly opened it, putting one cigarette in front of his face.

"What is this ... artifact?"

Megatron takes the cigarette in his hand, inspecting it.

"I was looking for my bag ... because I wanted that. It makes me less hungry."

The Decepticon leader drops the cigarette on the floor and steps on it. Crushing your hopes.

"Pain may not be enough to make you speak," Megatron keeps looking at you and as much as you would like to keep the eye-staring contest, you struggle to keep your eyes open.

"But let's wait and see how you react after hunger takes over you."

"I won't talk."

It hurts to even do so.

"Oh, but all of this would be so much easier if you did," he turns around and walks towards a berth. One that is not completely functional. At least it doesn't work with humans. Yet. "Regardless, we'll get what we want. Talk or do not talk, the choice is yours."

...

It has been a couple of days since you had left the base. It has been quiet around here without you. The kids can be a bit nosey but nothing the Autobots couldn't handle.

Optimus wonders what you would do if you were here. Would you be on your laptop? Maybe have a conversation with him? If you wanted, he could talk to you for hours, giving you information about Cybertronian culture. In exchange, he could ask you about human traditions. After the talk you two had about the human process of creating life, he was particularly curious about the human body.

He had just come back from patrol duty with Bumblebee when he heard a lot of talking between his Autobot friends.

"Optimus!"

Ratchet's preoccupied voice was something he wasn't fond of. It could mean two things. One, someone had messed up with one of his experiments. Two, bad news.

"(Y/N) has been captured by the Decepticons!"

Or three. Horrible news.

....

Bombs. Guns. Granades.

Screams. Fire. Blood. Pain.

When you were told that you were going to report on the war in a faraway land, you were excited. This was going to be your big step. The thing that will mark your career forever.

And it did mark you. Forever. But in ways you thought unimaginable.

It wasn't until you saw men, women and children being killed that you truly realized how stupid the world really is. It's a war and no one ever wins. So why? Why?

"Will I ever stop ... being so useless?"

Another day of not eating.

You didn't know when you were going to start to hallucinate. Maybe you already were. You wished you could smell the outside air. You had not realized how different the air is when the majority of living creatures occupying the area are alien robots. It's a different type of smell. Clean and sanitized, kinda like the smell of a hospital but with a more metal element to it.

The doors from your prison cell open. You are thankful because you hated the dark. Not really a phobia but many thoughts cross your mind when there is no light around you.

Megatron slowly makes his way towards you.

He is not that intimidating. Are you afraid? Yes, of course. But if you had to compare, Optimus had a more menacing frame. Although Megatron's eyes could frighten anyone, the way he moves and presents himself does not imply any harm. You won't underestimate him. Not a bit.

"I won't say a word."

You say as you look at him. You sat in a corner, nothing was tying you down. Not like it matters, it's not like you could do much against giant robots.

"I did not come here for that," his voice is way less intimidating. In different circumstances, Optimus could very well have been the villain. "I have come for a small conversation."

"If you think you can manipulate me into talking-"

"I would rather like to call it ... convincing you with words."

You knew this was going to be an interesting conversation.

"Words are powerful."

You say as he stands in front of you. You don't stand up, having a nice view of his posture. You can tell so much by the way someone moves.

"Agreed."

You wait for a few seconds, keeping eye contact. The room didn't look so dark now as Megatron had this purple aura that surrounded him.

You didn't know what he wanted but you were waiting for him to speak. But he was also studying you, trying to find the best way to talk to you.

"Eons ago, I was a young gladiator trying to survive."

Out of everything, you didn't imagine Megatron to be a storyteller. Oh, but how much you loved a good tale. Especially the ones about myths and legends of great warriors doing the impossible. Even if it's a story about a bot becoming a destroyer of worlds.

"Every day, as I exited the pit after killing comrades, I would watch the upper classes cheer for me."

He seems to remember the cheers, the chanting crowds. But his optics had changed, for a second, he was lost. Going back to those moments. There is some fear in them and you didn't know if he was being honest or it's another manipulation tactic.

"But what was there to cheer for? I had massacred Cybertronians. Someone like me and them."

You didn't doubt his words. At least there is some truth to them, you could tell as much.

"I would kill as I watched them eat the best kind of Energon. Drink the rarest of oils and wear the highest of tech accessories."

Megatron gets closer to you but he never kneels. He still believes he is above you. It's comical. Telling you stories about the inequality he suffered when there will never be a time he will see you as equal.

"Do you know what that feels like? Being tortured if you failed? Your spinal cord breaking and have no spare parts to repair it? While I see others throw parts into the pit, like their lives meant nothing."

Rage. He is filled with it. Finally, an emotion you could sympathize with or at least recognize. You didn't break eye contact nor were afraid. If he wanted to kill you, he had done so a very long time ago. You are more curious and in awe at the being in front of you.

His metal was damaged and scratched, his tall figure and spiky demeanor. He appears to be fierce, he had to be, otherwise he wouldn't be here. But you can't help and wonder if he had been allowed a different life, would he be different?

"I don't fight for freedom," Megatron says. "I fight for my survival."

You sigh heavily and your eyes show nothing but exhaustion. You muster the strength to speak. You can't give him anything but your sympathy.

"... You must be so tired."

You must be hallucinating because for a moment you could have sworn you saw something else in those red eyes.

Megatron turns around, no longer allowing you to see his face.

"Optimus was just like those Cybertronians I hated and he continues to be one. The system I fight to break, he continues to fight to repair it."

He steals a glance your way and he notices your concern.

"He was part of the crowd. Enjoying every match, every death. Laughing as it happened. How did you think we met?"

He walks back towards you but you notice his steps have become slower. The floor didn't tremble as much as if he was being careful without knowing.

"Oh? Didn't he tell you?"

You part your sight away from his. After a heavy sigh, you take up the courage to look at him again.

"We've been looking for ancient Cybertronian relics," you don't have another option. You had to sacrifice a little bit of truth to survive. "We don't know their function yet but we believe that they might be parts of something bigger."

"And do you know the location of these relics?"

"Just of one, the rest of the information is on my cellphone."

He seems to be interested now or rather atypical about your wording. He probably doesn't know certain terminology.

"And where is this cellphone you speak of?"

You muster a smile. You know Megatron can be a great negotiator, but so are you.

"If you want to know, I'll have my bag. With my cigarettes."

....

Fingal's Cave, Northern Ireland.

The night is dark and full of mysteries. Especially in dark caves where the waves of the sea clash against the rocks. It would have been a perfect vacation, had you not been kidnapped by evil alien robots. This might be nothing for them, maybe just a nice bubble bath. But to you? It's a certain death. You don't even know how to swim.

You stand next to Megatron. Behind you, there are a few warrior Decepticons. It was cold and humid and your intrusive thoughts made you want to jump into the crazed waves.

"The relic should be right there," you point to one of the walls and Megatron quickly looks at his army. It took only one look for them to know what they were supposed to do. Excavate.

You waited for a few seconds and noticed how fast they were putting away rocks and dust. Soon they will reach the relic and once they have what they want they will take you back to the Nemesis.

Suddenly, a green moving circle appears on the other side of the cave. You are a bit relieved. For a moment you genuinely thought they wouldn't appear.

It's the first time you see a ground bridge. It's beautiful and even more the aliens coming out from it. Tall, big, strong. Everything you weren't and for a moment you feel guilty. They shouldn't be here. They shouldn't be worrying about an insignificant life such as yours.

"Took you all long enough."

Optimus stands in front of his team. A battle mask covers half of his face, he looks fierce. You had never seen him like this before. He was intimidating and you were a bit scared of what he could do.

"Let (y/n) go, Megatron."

"Did you bring her cell phone?"

A shiver runs down your spine. You look up at him and he looks at you. Your eyes and his optics meet for a second. Unable to control your confusion, your voice betrayed you. With Megatron, showing emotion is a fatal mistake.

"What? How do you-"

"Nothing happens in the Nemesis without me knowing. Or do you think I was careless enough to leave your cell-door open?" his voice resonates within the containment of the cave. Not even the waves crashing could subside his voice. "I wanted you to contact them so they could do all the work for me."

"I am sure you must have led them to other relics. If they want you, they must turn them in as well."

You began to panic, your plan was crumbling. It was your fault for believing you could outsmart a million-years living creature.

"It's not true! They don't have them, I never-"

"We have one."

If looks could kill, your eyes would have killed Optimus. In fact, the Autobots have two relics. Optimus is lying and although a part of you is glad to know he could lie, right now you wish he had stayed quiet.

"Then you know what you must do."

Megatron suddenly picks you up, putting you a few meters above the water level.

You didn't know what to say. There was no guarantee that after receiving the relic, Megatron would let you go safely. Most importantly, you didn't understand. Why would the Autobots risk losing a valuable item over a human? There were many of you and only a few of those artifacts.

Optimus doesn't hesitate and uses his comm-link. Speaking clearly, he calls Ratchet, ordering him to bring one relic through the ground bridge.

Meanwhile, you see the Decepticons work on obtaining the other relic. They must be close as their excavation has become slower, maybe due that they do not want to damage the relic.

You try to find a way to break free but Megatron's grasp is too strong. Your body has started giving up, you haven't eaten in four days and your mouth tastes like cigarettes.

After a few tense minutes, Ratchet comes from the groundbridge, holding the white pot that contained the relic. You instinctively move your head from side to side. You didn't want to be the reason they lost it.

"Starscream, retrieve the relic and the cell phone."

You didn't notice the Commander before. Your senses must be failing you by now. He passes by Megatron and you know that if he could, he would push the leader of the Decepticons into the water.

"My pleasure, my liege."

And as he passes by, you can see Ratchet's disappointed face. All of their faces, as a matter of fact. You hated being useless and being used. You thought that staying quiet was the best option. But after seeing Optimus hand down your cell phone to Starscream and his cocky smile, you couldn't have it.

"Just go!" you scream, hoping that your voice is loud enough. "I'll figure it out! You don't have to do this!"

But it's like they weren't paying attention. Like your opinion didn't matter at all. Like you were a liability that had to be taken care of, not listened to.

Ratchet hesitantly gives the white ceramic pot to Starscream who aggressively takes it in his claws. He happily walks back to his Master as if he had finished completing the hardest of missions.

"You have what you wanted. Now let her go!"

Optimus threatens Megatron but it only amuses him. He looks at you, taking a few seconds to appreciate your face one last time.

"Lord Megatron, we have retrieved this place's relic."

Starscream says as the army of Decepticons had successfully extracted the artifact and that's everything Megatron needed to hear.

"A deal it's a deal," Megatron crossed optics with Optimus. "But this is for lying."

He opens his claws, letting you go and dropping you into the wild waves.

Megatron watches as Optimus jumps to save you. A selfless act, very much like him. What he was doing for you, he would do for anyone else. But there was something about it. Something that Megatron knew would catch Optimu's attention. Whatever it was, he would figure it out eventually. For now, he will let Prime have you. To let him enjoy his human pet as much as he can. Before taking you away.

"Next time, bring me all the relics you have, Prime. Or she will pay the price."

Bulkhead, Arcee and Bumblebee didn't even hesitate to go after him. They focused on helping Optimus and it was too late regardless. Megatron was already one step inside the groundbrige, ready to go back to the Nemesis.

"How did you know they had more relics?" Starscream walks behind Megatron, curious about his actions.

"I didn't," he says. "It's all a bet. Besides ..."

Megatron stops walking and quickly glances back. Getting a glimpse of Optimus coming out of the water, holding your fragile body.

"She's not half bad."

....

The first thing that crossed your mind after waking up was ... work.

Fowler told you to not worry about it and that things had been taken care of.

You didn't want to ask any further.

Especially after learning that you could no longer go back to your home.

It took you a couple of days to recover.

Falling into the wild waters of Fingal's Cave had done more injuries than the ones the Decepticons inflicted on you. Your body crashed a few times into rocks before Optimus rescued you.

But the pain in your body did not compare to the disappointment you feel.

You couldn't even look at the Autobots without feeling ashamed.

Now you can't even go home now.

"I apologize as for you now have to remain here. But it must be in your best interest to stay since the Decepticons know of your home location."

You didn't hear Optimus come through the rooftop door. Even with his massive steps and weight. Maybe you had gotten used to the sound of walking bots too fast.

"You may not be too fond of sharing a home but I promise you we are not too loud."

The top of the hangar gave you the best view of the Nevada desert. With sad rocks and a few cacti... alright maybe it wasn't that visually appealing.

But the night sky made up for it.

"I don't do good with people ... and bots," you pull out a cigarette from your jacket's pocket and light it up. Hearing Optimus coming closer and sitting down on the cliff with you.

You immediately move away for a few centimeters, feeling uncomfortable at the closeness. You didn't notice your body had acted this way but Optimus did.

"I can sense some hostility emitting from you."

Optimus optics lay on you but you wouldn't spare him a look.

"Optimus was just like those Cybertronians I hated and he continues to be one. The system I fight to break, he continues to fight to repair it."

You didn't know if you should bring up the matter or just keep it to yourself. But after the events at the Nemesis, you find yourself unable to look at Optimus the same. Not like it matters much, but deep down, a part of you wanted to trust him ... to believe in him.

"If there are any concerns-"

"Megatron told me," you interrupt him, the act feels disrespectful but you hope he didn't feel like that. "That you used to enjoy watching him fight and kill others in the gladiator's pits. That you fight to bring the caste system back."

"While is true that I used to attend such activities, I never supported it," subconsciously, Optimus wanted you to look at him. He needed your acknowledgment, something you refused to give him at the moment.

"Megatron and I used to share similar ideologies. But he believed that equality could only be obtained if the other classes were eliminated."

"And you?"

"I believe that every sentient being has the ability to change."

You let out a subsided laugh, looking down at your lap and then up again at the desert night.

"So what? You were hoping to change a whole social class with pretty words and inspiring speeches?"

"We cannot build a new world founded on violence."

"And where has that led you? To a strange planet and your race almost extinct."

He had good sentiments, you admired that but at some point you consider naivety to be stupidity.

"Cybertron will be rebuilt on tragedy," you say.

"And what am I supposed to do? Let him have his way?"

You have noticed that Optimus speaks less formally when he finds himself in a tough spot. Now, it was one of those moments. Your words had hit a circuit but you didn't want for this to turn into an argument. Not when you wanted to gain his sympathy.

"I am not saying I know what's best. What I am saying is that I thought you..."

You couldn't continue with your sentence. Because what you wanted to say was stupid and based on old ideas. Maybe deep down, you wished Optimus was that hero the world needed. But he was a leader. The leader of a war where there is no winner. He could only do what he did best. And that was making the hard decisions no one else could.

You had put too much expectations on his shoulders. He can't be a hero and a leader at the same time. If he were to be a hero, he would have been dead long ago. But his team needed him alive, he couldn't afford to die a martyr. He must know that.

"Listen to me Prime," you called him by his first name. Now more than ever, you believe there will never be a time when you will call him by his first name. "Everyone is a slave to something. Even you are enslaved to your own stupid ideologies of hope."

You were always precausious to never show your beliefs. Maybe years ago, you shared similar sentiments as Optimus. You saw yourself in him and you wanted to save him. Save him from the disappointment of the real truth of your world.

"But let me tell you this; you have those views because you lived through better times. You have tasted peace and solemnity," you had no stand to be lecturing him. Yet, you didn't see it that way. You were just speaking your feelings.

"But them? Working as miners, being gladiators just for your entertainment? They never had what you did. This is their hope to have better times."

You sigh heavily and feel your lungs struggle to breathe.

"And you just took that from them."

Seconds turned into minutes and you thought Optimus would stand up and leave you alone. But he instinctively got closer to you. He probably didn't notice his actions.

"I used to really enjoy watching your old reports."

The leader of the Autobots looks back fondly at the younger version of you. A few years back you had done a story about a small town that had been struck by a tornado. Many died and homes were destroyed.

But instead of focusing on the downside of things, you talked about how the community came together to help each other build back their town. The resilience and strength. Optimus was inspired by how such small things could build things bigger than themselves.

"Even when the report was about a catastrophic event, you always ended things positively."

"In the days where I had doubts, where I thought I couldn't do this anymore, I ... "

He pauses, he can't understand the feeling in his spark but his voice box struggles to process words.

"I would watch you on TV and you would give me inspiration to continue my mission."

His formality had dropped drastically and you wonder if this was his way to let his guard down and open up to you.

"But now that you are telling me this ... I think you are right," his voice cracks and your world crumbles. "What is left worth fighting for?"

You didn't know Optimus could feel doubt and hesitancy. You are reminded of the power of words. How you, a small insignificant human could make a robot full of wisdom question the truth of his life? It was too much power and you didn't want it. You didn't want Optimus to view life the way you do. So pessimistic, so gloomy.

You didn't believe in any of it, hope, love. None of that was enough to change the world. But Optimus didn't have to know that.

You wanted him to keep believing. To belive he could change the world with just words.

Fuck the truth.

"Megatron is full of rage," you say. "And sometimes rage allows us to live. To survive."

You decide to overstep boundaries and you put a hand over his servo. But you don't look at him, too shy to do so.

"But faith does too."

You were no one to question his beliefs. If you were completely honest, you would like to keep enjoying the company of this Optimus. The optimistic one, resilient, strong with unbreakable morals.

But in the back of your mind, the question still remains. There's no victory without sacrifice.

What if to win the war, to give meaning to the lives of fallen ones, he has to sacrifice his ideologies and beliefs?

What would you do ... Optimus?

"(Y/n)," Optimus calls your name so sweetly you feel your body shake up a little.

He holds your hand, so delicately, so softly as if he is afraid of hurting you. As if he is afraid you might break. You had never been held so fondly, your heart feels like melting.

"I have failed miserably in protecting you," He looks at your body and you feel like his optics pierce through your soul. You feel seen but you didn't mind it one bit. "The injuries in your body are proof of it."

"I am aware we are strangers to titles but I would like to establish a new relationship."

You didn't understand how he could make you feel in such a way. In a state of warmth and peace. How his presence alone was enough to comfort and heal wounds that go beyond physical pain.

"If you accept me as your guardian, I'll protect you and no harm shall ever find your way. I'll give my life for you if necessary. I'll do as you ask and have your safety as one of my purposes for living. Under these stars as a witness, I swear this to you."

Like the stars above, there were many mysteries you didn't understand. You thought that maybe Optimus was one of those mysteries as well. Otherwise, you didn't understand how such a beautiful creature would ever put your life above his own. Does he see you as a bothersome being? Probably. But you don't mind. A part of you wanted to be protected by such a powerful creature. A righteous one at least. Maybe he does see you as a pet to be taken care of.

But now that you think about it ... You don't mind devoting yourself to him either.

"I accept but under one condition," you wish you could be closer to his face, you feel a need to look closer at his optics. "If you protect me ... then I'll take care of you."

"Care for me?"

"If you ever have doubts, if you feel lonely, or if you just want to talk," all of a sudden you feel shy and you quickly part your sight. You didn't have the time to think the reason why. "I want to share the burden of your decisions with you, please."

"You will do that for me?"

He blinks multiple times, unsure of your words and you find this cute.

"You are willing to give up on your life for me," you make a small pause before continuing. "It's the least I can do."

Looking at a desert wasn't fun. But talking always was. Especially with an alien robot with millions of years' worth of wisdom. It's strange how you always felt better after talking to Optimus. He doesn't seem to be the type to judge and that's what you appreciated the most about him.

"(Y/N), You have proven to be more than meets the eye," you hear his voice closer and immediately turn. He had slouched significantly to be able to see you face to face. It must be an uncomfortable position but he still made the effort to see you at an eye level.

Maybe he also had a certain need to be as close as possible to you.

"I am glad the universe allowed us to encounter."

And before you could have the time to blush again, your brain replayed his words.

"Don't you mean optic? You guys don't have eyes."

Optimus straightens his back, no longer looking at you. This time he looks up at the sky, he looks curiously at them. Putting a servo on his chin, he looks to be in deep thought.

"That is true. But that is an ancient saying of my people."

"If it's an ancient saying then can we assume your kind and mine have met before?" You tilted your head, imagining the possibilities. You move your feet into a yoga position, feeling more comfortable.

"That is an interesting theory although I don't remember reading such things back at the archives. Maybe it's something worth investigating."

Optimus also thought of the possibilities, maybe this could be tied to the relics.

"Oh! Do you want to investigate it together?" this could be an important piece to your report. It would also be more credible if you had an actual Transformer help you write on what is probably one of the greatest discoveries in human history.

"We could write a report on it and give an informative presentation to the kids and the Autobots."

You put your hands up and them move them slowly in a parting motion.

"Cybertron and Earth: A Deeper Look Into Cybertronian-Human Relations and Why Our History Is Longer Than We Think."

The topic sounded more interesting to Optimus and the archivist in him started to show. You knew this by the way he would blink more often. It happened whenever something excited him.

"That sounds like a remarkable and revolutionary subject. I could try to look into Cybertron's' old archives and see if I can find something related to the topic."

If Optimus could always be excited like this, you wish you could hear him talk forever. Could he tell you all the stories and tales of his people. But would it hurt him to speak about them? To reminiscence the past may open old wounds and you didn't want to be the cause of it. You won't push it but you'll wait until he is ready.

"And I'll interview Fowler and see if he knows something or knows someone that knows more of the topic." That will be a challenge but there hasn't being a single person who never gave you an interview. Of course, you find your way. Ethical or not, it didn't matter as long as the truth was revealed.

"I am looking forward to hearing about your findings."

"I am excited to look at your research too!"

That night you learned many things. About Optimus especially. About how he would blink a lot whenever something got him excited. About how he loses his formality in words when he gets comfortable, excited or angry. Things like this made him feel closer to you as if he wasn't from an alien race but rather just another living creature existing in the same universe. And that's exactly what it was.

One hour turned into two, then three, four. Time passed by so fast, just talking and enjoying each other company. You smoked a few cigarettes and promised Optimus to buy a few gallons of oil for him to enjoy next time.

Although you were still downhearted for being unable to return to your home, you tried to look at the bright side of things. It was something you weren't used to do. But being with Optimus, his optimism rubbed off on you.

You two talked endlessly until you fell asleep on his servos. Optimus watched the sunrise; grateful to have met you, thinking how beautiful it was to love the ordinary. For at least, and with all the certainty in the universe he knew ... he was worthy of this.

A/N: This chapter took longer than I expected and I think after this one I am going to work on another fic (from another fandom) because I am so close to finishing that story and I just haven't uploaded in sometime. But! I'll be writing one shots for tumblr. I'll start working on a one shot for Christmas! The poll is over and we have a winner. Thank you to everyone who voted and all the comments, notes and likes. I'll take my time to respond to each of you :) My inbox is always open for any comment, ideas, concerns or prompts ideas.

I definitely want for Reader and Optimus to have chemistry. I think it's very important to show interaction with each other and show why they are attracted instead of them just having them fall randomly? Like I want to show Optimus and Reader have similar interest and passions but having contrasting ideas. I'll probably have them dancing and being silly together at some point.

On the next chapter I'll have Reader do some actual work. She's gonna be undercover (she has to dress seductively to fit into the world of car racing where she meets a hot mechanic who teaches her a lot about cars and Optimus has to follow her around cause that's his job as his guardian. His circuits go crazy cause he can't understand why all of a sudden he finds a human attractive-)

I want Optimus to feel like he has something of his own, something only he can protect and take care of because he can and wants (by choice) and it's not forced upon him nor a responsibility to bear (like the matrix) and that lovely thing being you ofc.

Sorry for an errors and grammar mistakes, I don't proof read.

I also feel like I haven't used much of the other bots so I'll make sure to use them more often now if the plot requires it.

I think that's all for now. Thank you so much for reading and see you in the next chapter!

Previous Chapter:

https://www.tumblr.com/t-a-a-1/768513873838030848/the-darkest-hour?source=share

Next Chapter: Soon

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killerelysia · 2 months ago

Text

Before the Midnight bell (part1)- Ronin x G.N Reader (Birthday special)

The world may never understand his love—may never see the beauty in the brokenness he had created—

Happy Birthday, Ronin!

I don’t know where to even begin, but here it goes.

I’ve never met anyone quite like you., and that’s what makes you so special. You’ve made me see the world in ways I didn’t think were possible—through the chaos, the darkness, and the little moments of strange beauty. You make everything feel… more intense. More alive.

I don’t think I’ll ever be able to thank you enough for just being you—for your twisted way of caring, your brutal honesty, and the way you make me feel like the world is ours to twist and shape. You’ve always been my protector, even when it doesn’t look like it. And for that, I’ll always be grateful.

Today’s your day, and I want it to be as crazy and unforgettable as you are. Here’s to more madness, more chaos, and more love (in our own twisted way).

I’m lucky to share this ride with you, Ronin. I’ll always be here—through every bloody, beautiful moment.

Happy Birthday.

With all my weird little love, Y/N..

Hey, I hope this is real..?

Ronin x G.N Reader (It's a fallen angel reader from my fanfic for Ronin! I didn't finish it but Hehe Hehe!)

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 15k!

TW: Blood etc

How long!?

Ronin’s birthday was coming up, and for the first time, you felt both excitement and a hint of nervousness bubbling inside you. It wasn’t just any birthday this time—it was his first as your boyfriend. Your actual boyfriend. No manipulative games or quasi-relationship joke hiding behind twisted titles. This time, it was real.

The thought made your cheeks flush with warmth as you absentmindedly plucked at your sweater sleeve. What could you even do for him? Ronin wasn’t exactly the type to go all soft for traditional romantic gestures, but at the same time, he deserved something thoughtful. Something special.

When you couldn’t figure it out yourself, you turned to Angel for help.

The phone call had started simple—just asking her what kinds of things Ronin liked—but within minutes, it spiraled into giggles and brainstorming.

“Well,” Angel began, her voice teasing through the speaker. “For one, apple crumble ice cream. He’s obsessed. I swear, it’s like his one soft spot.”

You tilted your head, the corner of your lip tugging upward. “Ice cream?”

“Yes, and it has to be apple crumble. No substitutes.” She laughed lightly. “Also, anything horror-related. "You could probably scare him with some creepy prank and he’d still be grinning like an idiot. Oh! And vinyl records. He used to collect them like crazy. We’d spend hours in those little secondhand record stores."

“Wait, you guys used to date, huh?” you asked, more curious than anything else.

“Uh-huh.” Angel didn’t even try to sugarcoat it, her tone light and nonchalant. “But don’t worry, it’s ancient history. Besides, you’re better for him than I ever was.”

You blinked, momentarily stunned. “...Really?”

“Absolutely,” she said, warmth lacing her words. “Ronin’s a hard one to figure out, you know? But you... you don’t try to fix him. You’re just there. Healing him in your own way, piece by piece.”

The words settled in your chest, bringing a small, shy smile to your lips. You didn’t know about healing, but you did care about him—enough that jealousy didn’t even cross your mind when it came to his past. It was part of who he was, just like his sharp smirks and terrible habit of leaving his dirty boots on your couch.

“Well,” you said after a beat, grinning despite yourself. “I still need to figure out how to surprise him.”

Angel hummed thoughtfully before chiming in, “Okay, hear me out. What if you made the apple crumble ice cream? It’d mean way more than just buying it.”

Your eyes widened. “You think I could do that?”

“Absolutely. It’s easy! I’ll even send you the recipe. Trust me, he’ll love it.”

The idea lodged itself in your head, and before long, the two of you were laughing together, imagining Ronin’s surprise. It felt strange and wonderful—planning something sweet and thoughtful instead of just surviving the chaos of your usual lives.

“I can’t believe how cute you two have gotten,” Angel teased before the call ended. “You’re like this innocent little ray of sunshine, even after, y’know... the whole fallen angel thing.”

You couldn’t help but giggle, cheeks burning as you said goodbye and ended the call.

With the recipe saved on your phone and your determination set, you leaned back on the couch, mind swirling with ideas. This birthday was going to be perfect.

You were so lost in thought, though, that you didn’t notice the faint sound of footsteps creeping closer.

Suddenly, a voice whispered in your ear, low and playful. “Peekaboo.”

You yelped, jumping nearly a foot in the air, arms flailing as you landed unceremoniously on your butt.

Ronin doubled over with laughter, his crowbar leaning against the wall as he clutched his stomach. “Oh, my god, the way you jumped—” He barely got the words out between fits of cackling.

“Ronin!” you whined, pouting as you rubbed your sore tailbone. ��That’s not funny!”

“It’s hilarious,” he countered, eyes twinkling with mischief. “You did the full Mickey Mouse jump and everything. You should’ve seen your face.”

You crossed your arms, trying to glare at him, but the laughter bubbling beneath his grin was contagious. Before you knew it, you were laughing too, the sound light and unguarded.

Ronin plopped down beside you on the floor, still smirking. “So, what were you sitting here looking so serious about? You looked like you were trying to solve a math problem or something.”

Your heart skipped a beat, the recipe still glowing on your phone screen. Panicking, you quickly locked the screen and tucked the phone behind you. “N-nothing!” you stammered. “Just... thinking!”

He raised a brow, clearly skeptical but not pushing it. “Mm-hmm. Sure.”

The two of you sat there for a moment, the quiet filling the space between his teasing and your flustered silence. His presence was warm beside you, grounding in a way that made your racing thoughts slow just a little.

“You’re weird, y’know that?” he said suddenly, his tone lighter.

“Why?” you asked, tilting your head.

“Most people would’ve run for the hills by now. But you? You’re still here. Still all...” He gestured vaguely at you, his lips quirking into an almost affectionate smirk. “...you.”

Your cheeks burned, and you glanced away, hugging your knees to your chest. “Well... I guess I just like being around you.”

He didn’t respond right away, and when you glanced back, you caught a flicker of something soft in his expression before he covered it up with his usual bravado.

“Whatever, angel,” he muttered, ruffling your hair as he stood up. “Don’t go breaking anything while I’m gone.”

You huffed, smoothing your hair back down as he sauntered off, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips.

This birthday was going to be perfect. He might tease you for being so earnest, but you knew deep down he’d appreciate it. Because underneath all the posturing, Ronin cared—maybe even more than he let on.

And you? You cared too. Enough to try, to surprise him, to make this the best birthday he’d ever had.

Ronin extended his hand to you, still grinning from ear to ear, his laughter tapering off into soft chuckles. You took his hand, and he effortlessly pulled you to your feet, the smirk on his face never faltering.

“You good?” he asked, tilting his head, clearly still amused by your earlier reaction.

“I’m fine,” you muttered, brushing yourself off and trying to recover what little dignity you had left. “And for the record, you’re terrible for scaring me like that.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m the worst,” he teased, his voice dripping with faux arrogance. “But admit it—you’d miss me if I wasn’t.”

You rolled your eyes, though your smile betrayed you. “Anyway,” you said, trying to steer the conversation, “I actually... prepared something for you.”

“Oh?” His eyebrow quirked, curiosity flickering in his gaze. “Prepared something? What, like food?”

“Yes, like food.” You placed your hands on your hips, trying to act exasperated. “I thought maybe you’d like a decent meal for once, instead of... I don’t know, whatever you scrape together while you’re out doing... whatever it is you do.”

His grin widened, and he stepped closer, leaning in just enough to make your pulse quicken. “You cooked for me?”

You nodded, cheeks warming as you looked away. “Don’t make a big deal out of it. It’s not like I do this every day.”

“Well, color me impressed,” he said, leaning back with a lazy smirk. “Guess I’ll have to see if it’s edible first.”

“Ronin!” you huffed, playfully smacking his arm.

He laughed, stepping aside and gesturing toward the kitchen. “Lead the way, chef.”

The two of you moved to the kitchen, where you’d already plated the food you made. Ronin eyed the spread, his expression unreadable as he took it all in.

“Looks good,” he admitted, surprising you. But as he leaned forward to inspect it, he added, “Though I didn’t get any blood on my mouth today, so I’m not sure if it’ll hit the spot.”

You froze for a second, his casual tone catching you off guard. “Uh... you mean...”

“Killing,” he said nonchalantly, grabbing a fork and poking at the food. “Been doing a lot of it lately. Guess you noticed, huh?”

You bit your lip, unsure how to respond. “Well... yeah. I mean, you’ve been, uh, busy. Is there... a reason for it?”

Ronin’s hand paused, his fork hovering just above his plate. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, and for a moment, his usual playful demeanor seemed to dim.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said finally, his tone sharp enough to make you flinch.

“Okay,” you said softly, nodding like the obedient little toy he seemed to think you were.

His eyes lingered on you for a moment longer, and then he sighed, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “You’re cute when you do that, y’know. All wide-eyed and nodding like that. Like you’re afraid to push me too far.”

“I just...” You trailed off, unsure how to respond.

He smirked again, leaning forward to ruffle your hair. “Relax, angel. I’m not gonna bite—unless you ask me to.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you quickly changed the subject. “You must be tired. Why don’t we do something fun instead? Take your mind off... whatever it is.”

Ronin raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Fun, huh? What did you have in mind?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “Something. Anything. Just... not work. You deserve a break.”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Alright, how about this—are you free tomorrow?”

You blinked, surprised by the question. “Uh, yeah. Why?”

“Good,” he said, his smirk growing. “Then clear your schedule. I’ve got plans for us

After dinner, the night began to wind down. You stretched your arms over your head, stifling a yawn as you cleared the plates and tucked them into the sink for tomorrow’s version of you to handle. Ronin was already on his way to the bedroom, casually stripping off his hoodie as he went. You didn’t miss the way his muscles moved under the dim light, but you quickly turned away, trying not to overthink it.

As you tidied up a few last-minute things, the thought of sleep became more and more appealing. But not before you indulged in one of your newfound comforts: stealing Ronin’s clothes.

You grabbed one of his oversized hoodies from the back of a chair and slipped into it, the fabric smelling faintly of motor oil, leather, and something distinctly him. It hung loosely on your frame, swallowing you in its warmth. Pairing it with a pair of shorts, you shuffled toward the bedroom, relishing the small joys that came with being close to him.

When you entered, Ronin was already sprawled on the bed, scrolling lazily through his phone. His legs were crossed, and he looked like the epitome of someone who didn’t have a care in the world. You stood in the doorway for a moment, watching him, before a familiar urge bubbled up.

“Alright,” you said, placing your hands on your hips. “Bedtime.”

Ronin raised an eyebrow, smirking. “You sound like my mom. What’s next, tucking me in?”

You grinned, already making your way to his side of the bed. “Exactly that.”

He groaned, exaggerated and dramatic, but didn’t stop you as you grabbed the blankets and started fussing over him.

“You’re ridiculous,” he muttered, though there was no real heat behind his words.

“And yet, you’re letting me do this,” you teased, tucking the blanket snugly around him like he was some kind of overgrown child.

He rolled his eyes but stayed still, indulging you with a resigned sigh. “Happy now?”

“Very,” you replied, stepping back to admire your handiwork.

You leaned down and pressed a light kiss to his forehead. “Good night, Ronin.”

Turning toward the couch on the far side of the room, you started to make your way over, already mentally preparing for the uneven cushions.

But before you could settle in, you felt a tug on your wrist. You looked down to see Ronin’s hand gripping yours, his dark eyes fixed on you.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual.

“Going to sleep?” you replied, a little confused by the question.

“On the couch?” He tugged again, gently this time. “You’re my partner now. Why are you still sleeping over there?”

Your breath caught in your throat. You hadn’t expected him to address it so directly. “I... I didn’t think you’d mind,” you said softly. “I just—”

“You just what?” His tone wasn’t accusatory, but there was a weight to it, an insistence that you answer honestly.

You hesitated, your free hand fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie. “I thought... maybe you’d prefer it that way. Because of... you know.”

Ronin’s expression darkened slightly, but his grip on your wrist didn’t falter. “Because of Ther?” he asked bluntly, cutting through your hesitation.

You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t want to make you feel like I was... trying to replace them. I know I can’t. And I wouldn’t want to. I just... I thought maybe it’d be easier for you if I kept some distance.”

He let out a long breath, his thumb brushing against the inside of your wrist. “What do you think of me?”

“What?”

“I’m asking what you think,” he said, his voice steady. “You’re the one who’s scared I’m hung up on someone else. Do you think I’m the type to do that to you?”

“No,” you said quickly. “I don’t think you’d ever see Ther in someone else. You’re... you’re not like that. You care too much, even if you don’t like showing it.”

He smirked faintly at that, but the seriousness in his eyes didn’t fade.

“I just...” You swallowed hard, trying to find the right words. “I know you loved them. And I know I’m not them. But that’s okay. I don’t need to be. I’m just happy I get to be part of your life, even if it’s not the same.”

For a moment, Ronin didn’t say anything. His eyes searched yours, his usual post-ironic mask slipping just enough for you to catch a glimpse of something raw underneath.

Then, slowly, a grin broke across his face, though it was softer than usual. “You’re something else,” he said, shaking his head.

You smiled back at him, feeling a little lighter. “So... we’re okay?”

“More than okay,” he said. “But if you think I’m letting you sleep on that couch again, you’ve got another thing coming.”

Before you could protest, he tugged on your wrist, pulling you toward the bed. You stumbled slightly, but he caught you, his hands firm yet gentle as they guided you onto the mattress.

“Ronin—”

“Nope,” he said, cutting you off. “No arguments. You’re staying here.”

You looked at him, your heart thudding in your chest. “Just like that?”

“Just like that,” he said, his tone light but his eyes serious. “Unless you’ve got a problem with it.”

You shook your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. “No problem.”

“Good.” He shifted to make room for you, pulling the blankets over the both of you. “Now get some sleep, angel.

The quiet settled in as you nestled closer against Ronin’s chest, his steady heartbeat a soothing rhythm that lulled you into a sense of security. For all his sharp edges, Ronin had a warmth to him, one that you craved more than you liked to admit. His arm draped loosely around your waist, his hand resting on your hip, and you could feel the slight tension in his hold, like he wasn’t entirely sure how much was too much.

You tilted your head slightly to look up at him, your fingers absentmindedly toying with the hem of his hoodie. “Ronin?”

“Hm?” His voice was muffled, his eyes half-lidded, but you could tell he was still awake.

“Can I ask you something?”

He groaned softly, cracking one eye open. “You’re not about to get all serious on me right before bed, are you?”

“No,” you said quickly, your voice soft. “It’s just... something I’ve been thinking about.”

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t push you away. “Alright, spit it out.”

You hesitated, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “You’re really... um, touchy, sometimes. Like, not in a bad way! I mean, I like it.” You tripped over your words, your face heating up as you tried to explain. “I just... you seem like you need it. A lot.”

Ronin let out a low, dramatic groan, throwing his head back against the pillow. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. You’re not seriously analyzing my cuddle habits, are you?”

You bit your lip, feeling a little embarrassed but also determined to ask. “I’m not analyzing! I’m just curious. Is it... a thing for you? Being touchy, I mean.”

His eyes flicked back to you, and for a moment, you thought he might brush it off with one of his usual sarcastic comments. But instead, he sighed, his hand running through his plum-colored hair.

“Yeah,” he admitted, his voice quieter than usual. “Guess you could say I’m a bit touch-starved. Always have been.”

You blinked up at him, tilting your head. “Touch-starved?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know what it means,” he said, smirking slightly. “I’m not gonna spell it out for you.”

You shook your head quickly. “No, no, I know what it means! I just... I didn’t think you’d say it like that. You’re so... you.”

He snorted, his fingers tapping lightly against your hip. “Yeah, well, even I’ve got my shit, alright? Not exactly a lot of hugs going around in my past. So, sue me if I’m a little touchy right now."

He stiffened for a moment, then narrowed his eyes at you. “Don’t start with me.”

“What?” you said, feigning innocence. “I’m just pointing out the obvious.”

“You’re not teasing,” he said flatly. “You think you’re teasing, but you’re not.”

You pouted, crossing your arms over your chest. “I totally am!”

He let out a bark of laughter, shaking his head. “Kid, you don’t have a teasing bone in your body. It’s cute, though. Like watching a puppy try to bark for the first time.”

You frowned, trying to think of something witty to say back, but your mind drew a blank. Instead, you settled for sticking your tongue out at him, which only made him laugh harder.

“See? Case in point,” he said, his smirk widening.

You huffed, turning away from him, but his arm tightened around your waist, pulling you back against his chest.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice losing some of its usual sarcasm. “I’m not complaining. You being... you? That’s what makes it good. So don’t go trying to change it, alright?”

You turned back to him, your cheeks warm as you nodded. “Okay.”

“Good,” he said, resting his chin on top of your head. “Now go to sleep before you make me say more sappy shit.”

You smiled, nuzzling closer to him. “Good night, Ronin.”

“Night, angel.”

Ronin stretched out on the bed, his body heavy with the kind of groggy satisfaction that came from sleeping far longer than he usually allowed himself. He blinked a few times, his gaze shifting to the empty space beside him. You were gone.

His eyebrows furrowed for a moment, and he rubbed at his face. Fresh air, maybe? he thought, letting his arm flop onto the bed. He wasn’t the clingy type, a mantra he didn’t quite believe but stubbornly repeated anyway. Touch-starved, not needy EVEN NOT THAT!, he muttered internally, rolling out of bed.

Still, the quiet absence in the room felt louder than it should have. As he threw on his hoodie and padded down the hall, he shook his head.

Shut it, Ronin

His own voice in his mind was sharp, scolding. They’re not your lifeline, and you don’t need someone to hold your damn hand through every second of the day.

He paused at the door to the garage, his gaze drifting over the tools hanging neatly on the walls. Ironic, wasn’t it? How someone like him, who prided himself on rejecting everything Christianity had tried to hammer into his skull, found solace in someone like you. A figure who seemed to embody everything he’d hated about faith: hope, forgiveness, devotion. Yet, here he was, falling into step with you without ever realizing it. You weren’t an answer to a prayer—Ronin didn’t pray anymore. But somehow, you’d become something he couldn’t deny. Something he hadn’t planned. You left everything for him too. He knows it was for your own good according to him.

But-----

He scoffed under his breath, dragging a hand through his hair as he turned toward the basement. A flicker of movement caught his attention, and he followed it, his boots creaking against the wooden stairs as he descended.

There you were, sitting cross-legged on the floor with your phone, the screen glowing faintly in the dim light. You were so focused you didn’t even hear him approach until his voice broke the silence.

“What the hell are you doing down here?”

You flinched so hard your phone nearly flew out of your hands. “Jeez, Ronin!” you said, clutching your chest. “Can you not sneak up on me like that?”

His smirk spread slowly, a smug, lopsided thing. “I wasn’t sneaking. You’re just jumpy. Seriously, though. The basement? What’re you doing?”

You scrambled to your feet, your cheeks flushing as you shoved your phone into your pocket. “Nothing! I just… needed some fresh air.”

Ronin raised an eyebrow, his smirk turning even more stupidly amused. “Fresh air? In the basement? Yeah, sure. Makes perfect sense.”

You huffed, brushing past him and heading for the stairs. “I needed to think, okay? That’s all. Now go shower or something. I’ll make breakfast.”

He followed you up the stairs, his hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets, his grin never fading. “You speed-walkin’ away like that doesn’t exactly scream ‘innocent.’ What were you really doing, huh? Secretly plotting my downfall? Finding new ways to make me eat actual vegetables?”

You whirled around at the top of the stairs, pointing a finger at him. “Ronin, I swear, if you don’t go take a shower right now, I’m not making you breakfast.”

He leaned against the wall, tilting his head as he looked at you with a mock pout. “A threat? Really? That’s what we’re doing now?”

“Yes,” you said firmly, crossing your arms. “Because you’re being insufferable, and I have important things to do.”

“Important things,” he echoed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Like what? Let me guess, you’re planning to—”

“Go. Shower,” you interrupted, shoving his shoulder lightly. “You probably smell like… like murder or something.”

He laughed at that, a low, gravelly sound that sent a shiver up your spine. “Murder smells better than you’d think, angel.”

“Ronin!”

“Alright, alright,” he said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “I’m going. But this breakfast better be worth it, or you’re never living this down.”

You rolled your eyes, watching as he finally turned toward the bathroom. As the door clicked shut behind him, you let out a sigh of relief. He was impossible, but… he was also Ronin. And that was enough to make you smile as you headed for the kitchen.

Ronin leaned back in his chair, his plate of food mostly untouched as he watched you. You were fidgeting with your phone, tapping your fingers against the floor, your knee bouncing with a restless energy he didn’t usually see in you. You were distracted, anxious—he could tell. The corner of his mouth twitched downward.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asked, breaking the silence. His voice was casual, but there was an edge to it, like he was fishing for something.

You froze, your eyes snapping to his like you’d been caught red-handed. “Nothing,” you blurted, clutching your phone to your chest. “Just… nothing important.”

His brow arched. “Yeah? ‘Cause you look like you’re planning a jailbreak or something. Come on, show me.”

You shook your head so quickly it was almost comical. “No, please don’t ask,” you said softly, your voice almost pleading.

That stopped him in his tracks. He wasn’t sure if it was the tone or the look in your eyes, but something about it made him back off. “Alright, fine. Keep your secrets,” he said, grabbing his fork and focusing on his plate instead.

The tension eased slightly as you took a breath, and for a moment, it seemed like the conversation would end there. But then, you stood abruptly, brushing your hands on your pants like you were gearing up for something.

“I’m going out,” you said, your voice a little too chipper.

Ronin’s fork clattered against his plate as he stared at you. “You’re what?”

“I’m going somewhere. It’s… important,” you said, heading toward the door before he could ask more questions.

He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “The hell do you mean ‘important’? Since when do you have places to be? All you know is this house. What’s so important you’re just up and leaving now?”

You hesitated, your hand on the doorframe, and then turned back to him with a nervous smile. “It’s something I saw online, and I’ve wanted to check it out in person for a while. I’ll be back, don’t worry.”

Ronin squinted at you, his confusion evident. You weren’t making any sense, and that only made him more suspicious. But the way you smiled at him—genuine, if not a little nervous—made him hold his tongue.

“Fine,” he said after a long pause. “Go do… whatever. Just don’t get into trouble.”

“I won’t!” you chirped, practically skipping toward your room to get dressed.

Ronin stayed at the table, staring at your empty seat with a frown. He’d told himself over and over that he wasn’t the clingy type, but your sudden departure left a sour taste in his mouth. It wasn’t like you to leave like this, especially not after you’d been so jittery all morning. And after the fall? You barely left the house unless it was with him.

He drummed his fingers against the table, muttering under his breath. “The hell is this about?”

The thought of following you crossed his mind for a split second, but he dismissed it just as quickly. He wasn’t that petty. Besides, you weren’t the type to run off and… see someone else. No, this was something different.

Still, he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling in the back of his mind. His birthday was tomorrow, and while he’d never been the kind of guy to care much about celebrating, he’d been looking forward to spending the day with you. It wasn’t about the gifts or the attention—it was about having someone who actually gave a damn.

He sighed, raking a hand through his hair. Maybe he was overthinking it. Maybe you really had found something online and decided to check it out. But that didn’t explain why you’d been acting so weird.

he sat there, his thoughts swirling, he couldn’t help but feel a little… disappointed. For someone who claimed they didn’t care about birthdays, he sure was hoping this one would be different.

Meanwhile, in your room, you were frantically changing into something casual but nice, your heart racing as you double-checked everything you needed. You weren’t great at lying to Ronin—he could read you like an open book—but you’d managed to keep your plan under wraps.

Tomorrow was his birthday, and you wanted to make it special. Not just for him, but for you, too. It was the first birthday you’d get to celebrate with him as his partner, and you were determined to make it memorable.

As you slipped out of the house, you couldn’t help but feel a little guilty for leaving without telling him the truth. But if you could pull this off, it would all be worth it.

Ronin, meanwhile, stayed seated at the table, his thoughts gnawing at him. What the hell is going on? he thought, rubbing at the back of his neck. You weren’t one to keep secrets, and the fact that you had one now was driving him insane.

He didn’t know where you were going, but he wasn’t about to follow. He wasn’t that guy. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder what you were up to—and why it felt like it had something to do with him.

After you left, Ronin found himself standing in the middle of the kitchen, hands on his hips, staring at nothing in particular. He muttered to himself as he finally picked up his plate and tossed the leftovers into the trash.

“Off doing some secret mission,” he grumbled. “You’re getting soft, Ronin. Too soft.”

Shaking his head, he decided to push the thoughts aside. There was work to do, after all. His garage was already buzzing by the time he headed out, and he quickly threw himself into fixing up bikes and cars, his usual clientele trickling in.

For the first couple of hours, he let his mind go blank, focusing only on the familiar rhythm of the tools in his hands. But as time went on, a different kind of restlessness crept in. Every time a customer walked through the door, he’d scan them, sizing them up, seeing if there was something interesting about them. Someone who deserved to end up on the wrong end of his crowbar.

Unfortunately, the day was as dull as they came. No one stood out—not even the cocky guy with a busted muffler who tried to haggle the price down.

Ronin sighed as he wiped the grease from his hands, watching the man leave. “Boring,” he muttered under his breath. “Pathetic. You’re all safe today, losers.”

After a few moments of silence, Ronin’s phone buzzed. His face lit up with a smirk as he saw the notification—his server chat, where he and his lovely crew always kept things lively. He opened it, and the first thing he saw was Luca’s message.

Luca (username: Luca): "So, how's your dear Angel from the sky?

Ronin rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the slight chuckle that escaped him. Luca never changed.

Ronin (username: Goreboy): "Pathetic, Well, your opinion doesn’t matter, now does it?"

Feli (username: Felicite): "I hope they're fine? "

Ronin scrolled down, his phone lighting up with Angel's message right after.

Angel (username: Angelicc): "Hey, where’s Y/N? I thought you two were together today?"

Ronin paused for a moment, thinking about how to answer. He didn’t want to mention anything about you leaving; he didn’t want them to see that as a crack in the perfect image he liked to keep up. Not yet.

Ronin (username: Goreboy): "They left. Said something about seeing something online. You know how they get."

Misaki responded almost immediately, and Ronin’s lips curled up into a smirk as he read her message.

Misaki (username: Hitmeupp): "Better not be some man/woman thing. You know Y/N’s too innocent for that, right? Can barely handle an app without getting confused."

Ronin snorted in amusement, knowing it was true. You were still getting the hang of apps, and there were so many times he’d had to explain things to you in the past. But he loved that about you, how... innocent you still were in that regard. He felt protective, even though he didn’t always show it.

Ronin (username: Goreboy): "You’re giving them too much credit. They’re too dumb to even deal with that. They’re clueless about half the apps on their phone. But sure, let’s pretend it’s some big mystery."

Misaki shot back quickly.

Misaki (username: Hitmeupp): "Not really dumb. Pretty cute, actually. Wouldn’t you agree, Ronin?"

Ronin rolled his eyes. Misaki never could resist teasing him.

Ronin (username: Goreboy): "Yeah, they’re cute. That’s about it, though."

The messages from the server continued to pour in as he scrolled, his attention flicking between his phone and the work he had to finish. That’s when V’s message appeared in his inbox.

V (username: K9): Why do you sound so gloomy? Everything alright, Ronin?

Ronin’s fingers hovered over the keyboard as he stared at the message, unsure if he should respond. V had always been quiet, and his sudden concern felt out of place. Why would V care?

He typed back quickly, trying to brush it off.

Ronin (username: Goreboy): "Yeah, I’m fine. Just dealing with some shit, nothing new. No need to worry about it."

But V didn’t let it go. Instead, he sent a follow-up message that immediately caught Ronin off guard.

V (username: K9): Seriously, though. You ever thought about what Misaki said? About Y/N?

Ronin stopped in his tracks, staring at the screen. What the hell did Misaki say? He hadn’t even processed it fully. Was V really pulling this line of questioning?

He smirked, typing his reply with his usual post-ironic attitude.

Ronin (username: Goreboy): "Since when did my angel start caring about Y/N?"

V (username: K9): It’s not about that. Just wondering if you’ve really thought about it. You’re kind of in deep with them, huh?

Ronin couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up from his chest. He quickly typed out his response, brushing it off as he always did.

Ronin (username: Goreboy): "No, I haven’t thought about it. Even if it’s true, I don’t care. Doesn’t change anything. Just a person, right?"

There was a brief silence on V’s end, but before Ronin could move on, Misaki’s message came flooding in.

Misaki (username: Hitmeupp): "Even if you think so, Ronin, you’re way too defensive. And don’t get me started on how cute Y/N is. No one else would look at them like you do, and you know it!"

Ronin’s smirk twisted into something more genuine. He didn’t mind their teasing—it was part of the game. But Misaki was right about one thing: you were special. He just didn’t have the words to explain it. Hell, even he didn’t fully get it.

He paused for a second, fingers hovering over the keyboard again. Then, with a shrug, he typed.

Ronin (username: Goreboy): "Alright, alright, sure. But you all know what I’m about. Y/N can be anyone. They’re not the only one in my world."

There was a brief pause before Luca decided to chime in.

Luca (username: Luca): "Is that the case? Because I’m not so sure, man. I think you’re just mad because they left to go check something out. Don’t tell me it’s all part of some big plan to be ‘post-ironic’ again."

Misaki, though, immediately defended you, even if they hadn’t met you in person.

Misaki (username: Hitmeupp): "Don’t be an asshole, Luca. You know nothing about Y/N. You don’t get to say shit. Even if I haven’t met them, I can tell that Ronin wouldn’t be the way he is if they weren’t worth it."

The chat immediately went quiet after that, all eyes seemingly on Ronin to respond.

Ronin just sat there, his phone in his hand, considering his words carefully. Did they really think he didn’t know? But you weren’t anyone else. You weren’t just a game like the others. You were his own twisted, confusing connection—and that was something no one in this chat could ever truly understand. He finally typed.

Ronin (username: Goreboy): "Yeah, maybe you’re right. Whatever, it’s fine. I’ll deal with it. We’re good."

And with that, he leaned back, the phone buzzing with more messages from the others, but his mind was elsewhere. Even if he acted like he didn’t care—hell, even if he convinced himself he didn’t—there was something different about you, something that made him want to keep this mess going. And for the first time in a while, he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing… or the worst thing to ever happen to him.

The air in the mall buzzed with a mix of soft music and distant chatter. You hadn’t expected to spend the day shopping, but something inside you knew you needed to find the perfect gift for Ronin. The kind of gift that wasn’t just about the usual routine, but something that spoke of your own emotions—something personal. It felt strange, this need to get him something that would signify the bond between you two, but you couldn’t shake the thought. After all, he was unpredictable, dark, and elusive in a way that made you want to prove your place in his chaotic world.

You walked into the store, the doors chiming softly as you entered. It was a gothic-themed boutique, filled with black velvet, chains, silver jewelry, and intricate designs that seemed to speak to a part of you that mirrored Ronin's own twisted love for all things dark and bizarre. A shopkeeper, a young woman in her mid-20s with sharp eyeliner and a soft, almost mischievous smile, greeted you immediately.

"Hello there! You’ve come to the right place," she said brightly, clasping her hands together. "We’ve got all sorts of goth accessories. Are you looking for something special today?" She leaned in closer, her excitement almost contagious.

You hesitated, but her enthusiasm made you smile. "I’m looking for something for someone," you replied, trying not to give away too much. "Maybe something… meaningful?"

"Oh, I love that," she gushed, nodding enthusiastically. "We have so many things that could symbolize, like, special connections!" She started leading you to the display, her eyes practically gleaming with the knowledge of all the dark, romantic pieces the store had.

The first thing she showed you was a set of chokers, each one adorned with gothic symbols and sharp, silver spikes. There was a particularly striking one that had Devil May God Forgive You engraved on it in intricate cursive. The leather strap seemed almost too harsh, too forward. You almost smiled, wondering if Ronin would appreciate it—or if he’d mock you for it.

"That one’s a classic," the girl said, catching your eye. "But maybe you want something a bit more, uh, subtle? We’ve got the sorry Christ one, if you’re feeling more... repentant." She winked at you as she pulled a smooth, black velvet choker from the shelf, adorned with a small silver cross, almost like a twisted apology.

You couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking your head. "Maybe not that one." The thought of Ronin wearing something like that made you feel both embarrassed and amused.

She didn’t seem deterred and moved on to the next set, showing you a row of necklaces with heavy silver chains, pendants shaped like daggers, skulls, and moons, each one glinting under the soft lighting of the shop. But nothing seemed right.

You continued browsing, feeling the weight of several bags already hanging from your arms. You had picked up a few things along the way—nothing for Ronin, but a few trinkets that spoke to your own taste, like a black mesh top that would look stunning on you and some more accessories for yourself. As you walked past rows of velvet jackets, platform boots, and studded gloves, your eyes landed on a small glass case in the back.

Inside, nestled on a bed of black satin, was a set of earrings—one pair stood out above the rest. They were elegant, simple, but undeniably gothic. Two ruby stones set in dark silver, their deep red hues striking against the cool tones of the metal. The moment your eyes fell on them, you felt a tug in your chest. That’s it.

The shopkeeper, noticing your gaze, practically floated over to you. "Ah, I see you’ve found them! Those are our best sellers." She gave you a knowing look. "Ruby stones symbolize pure love and passion, you know. I think that’s exactly what you’re looking for, right? Something that shows just how deep that connection is." She smiled sweetly, her voice softer now, almost as if she were reading you.

You blinked, a little startled by her insight. "Yeah, I think so," you replied, reaching for the case. The cool metal of the earrings felt smooth between your fingers, and you could almost feel them calling to you.

"Those are beautiful," the girl said, eyes sparkling with excitement. "And trust me, the stones are very meaningful. It’s like a declaration of something deep, something eternal. I think your person will absolutely love them." She grinned at you, her smile wide and warm, but her eyes seemed to be probing a little more than necessary, reading the situation in a way you couldn’t fully place.

"I’ll take them," you said quickly, not wanting to waste another second.

"Perfect choice!" she replied, practically bouncing as she wrapped the earrings carefully in black tissue paper, placing them into a sleek, black gift bag with a silver ribbon.

You grinned at her, almost feeling the weight of the gift in your hand before it was even given. There was something about the way she treated you like a kindred spirit that made the whole experience feel oddly... intimate.

After she handed you the bag, you spent the next few moments gathering the other bags you had collected during your impromptu shopping spree. But your attention kept flickering back to the earrings, the symbolism of the ruby stones, and how Ronin would react. It felt almost like you were giving him a piece of your own heart, a little piece of something that, no matter how dark, still burned with passion and meaning.

Once you had everything packed, you gave the shopkeeper a smile, and she waved goodbye with a kindhearted "Good luck!"

You wandered deeper into the mall, the weight of your shopping bags growing heavier with each store you visited. The bags clinked softly with various treasures you’d collected—everything from clothes with edgy prints to accessories that screamed emo-geek chic. Mesh tops, studded belts, and fingerless gloves found their way into your collection, along with some black denim and a hoodie that looked like it belonged in a gothic fairytale.

Every piece you picked out reminded you of Ronin in some way, as though each item was a part of a puzzle that would make him smirk or—if you were lucky—maybe even smile.

Then, you stumbled upon a quaint, old-fashioned sewing-on-the-spot shop tucked away in a quiet corner of the mall. The sign was hand-painted, the letters slightly faded, and the interior smelled faintly of lavender and aged thread. Curious, you stepped inside, the bell above the door jingling softly.

Behind the counter, an older woman with sharp eyes and nimble fingers sat, stitching something intricate onto a fabric square. Her gaze flickered up at you, assessing, before she offered a small nod of approval.

"Well, well," she said, her voice raspy but kind. "Haven’t seen one of your kind here in a while. What can I do for you, youngster?"

You hesitated, looking around the shop. "I was wondering... could you help me make something? A, um, beanie?" Your voice wavered slightly, but the old woman raised an eyebrow and set down her needle.

"Beanie, eh? What kind of beanie are we talking about? Don’t tell me it’s one of those devilish ones," she said, half-joking, though her tone carried a touch of judgment.

You blushed, feeling heat creep up your neck. "Actually, yes," you admitted sheepishly, your fingers fidgeting with the strap of one of your bags. "With little horns, maybe?"

The woman let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. "Kids these days," she muttered, but there was no malice in her voice. She motioned for you to come closer. "All right, let’s see what we can do. Pick a fabric."

You chose a soft, black material, perfect for a cozy yet rebellious look. As the woman worked, she couldn’t resist making little comments.

"Back in my day, we didn’t need to wear things with horns to stand out," she said, her hands moving expertly as she sewed. "Just a good attitude and a strong heart. Not like these flimsy trends now."

You couldn’t help but smile nervously, nodding along. "Yeah, I guess things are different now." You hesitated before adding, "It’s actually for my... boyfriend." The word felt strange on your tongue, almost foreign, but at the same time, it warmed your chest. Boyfriend. Was that what Ronin was?

The old woman paused for a moment, looking at you with a mix of surprise and amusement. "Boyfriend, huh?" she echoed, her voice teasing. "Well, aren’t you the sweetest? Making something by hand, no less. That’s rare these days. He better appreciate it."

You blushed harder, feeling the weight of her words. The thought of giving Ronin the beanie, seeing him wear it, was both thrilling and nerve-wracking. "I hope he likes it," you said softly, your fingers brushing against the edge of the counter.

As the woman finished sewing, your ring finger caught on a stray needle, and you winced as a sharp sting jolted through your hand. A single drop of blood welled up on the tip of your finger. The pain was fleeting, but the odd thing was the spot it hit—right where a ring might go.

"Careful," the woman scolded gently, handing you a tissue. "Don’t want to ruin that pretty finger of yours."

You nodded, murmuring a quiet thanks as you dabbed at the small wound. For a moment, you stared at your finger, an odd ache blooming in your chest. It was as if the sting wasn’t just physical. Maybe it was the weight of all these emotions, or the fact that you were human now, no longer the celestial being you once were. It felt heavy, strange, but also... right.

"All done," the woman said, holding up the finished beanie. It was perfect—soft, black, with two small devil horns stitched on top. You smiled, your heart swelling with pride and gratitude.

"Thank you," you said, taking the beanie and carefully placing it in one of your bags.

Your next stop was the hardware store. The clean, metallic smell of tools and equipment greeted you as you stepped inside. You immediately made a beeline for the mechanics section, knowing exactly what you were looking for.

You grabbed a brand-new set of tools—everything from wrenches to screwdrivers—then spotted something that made you pause: a crowbar. It was sleek, black, and looked like it was practically made for Ronin.

He’d love this, you thought, picking it up. As you turned it over in your hands, you couldn’t help but imagine him holding it, smirking that cocky grin of his as he teased you about your thoughtfulness.

By the time you left the store, your arms were weighed down with even more bags, but your heart felt light. Between the beanie, the earrings, and now the tools and crowbar, you felt like you were putting together pieces of a puzzle that only Ronin would fully understand.

You entered the cake shop, the sweet, sugary scent of fresh-baked goods wafting through the air and immediately making your stomach growl. The shop was warm and inviting, with a cozy little kitchen at the back where customers could make cakes from scratch on the spot. It had a rustic charm, with wooden counters and old-fashioned decorations that made it feel like a place where magic could happen—where you could create something special with your own hands.

As you approached the counter, one of the ladies behind it looked up and smiled warmly at you. "Oh, how cute! You're going to make a cake? And for your boyfriend, you say?" Her voice was sweet and almost teasing, but there was genuine warmth in her eyes as she looked at you.

"Yeah... it's his birthday tomorrow," you replied softly, feeling a blush creep up your neck. It felt a little strange saying it out loud, but the words "my boyfriend" felt more real every time you said them. You smiled at the thought of Ronin, his dark eyes, his sarcastic smirk... and that weird, almost tender side of him that you knew was there.

"Well, aren't you sweet? A special cake for a special guy. What are you making?" she asked, clearly eager to see your creation.

You hesitated for a moment before answering. "I think... an apple crumble cake. I found a recipe from someone... she’s really good at baking. It’s a surprise."

The lady's eyes sparkled with curiosity. "Apple crumble cake, huh? That sounds delicious! Well, we'll make sure you do a fantastic job. Just follow the steps and take your time."

You nodded, feeling reassured. This was your chance to make something perfect for Ronin. You couldn't help but smile at the thought of him enjoying something you made just for him.

With a deep breath, you rolled up your sleeves and began.

Apple Crumble Cake Recipe Steps:

1. Preheat the oven to 350°F (175°C). You carefully adjusted the oven, feeling a slight excitement building in your chest. It was the first step to making the cake come to life.

2. Prepare the crumble topping. You took a bowl and combined the dry ingredients for the crumble. You mixed together 1 cup of flour, 1/2 cup of sugar, and 1/4 teaspoon of cinnamon. Then you added 1/2 cup of cold butter, cutting it into chunks before using your fingers to rub the butter into the dry ingredients until it formed a crumbly texture. The buttery scent filled the air, making your mouth water in anticipation.

"Looking good!" the lady behind the counter said, noticing your progress. "You're doing great!"

You smiled shyly and continued, feeling a little more confident. You set the crumble aside, ready for the next step.

3. Prepare the apple filling. Next, you peeled and sliced 3 medium apples, cutting them into thin pieces. You sprinkled 1 tablespoon of sugar and a pinch of cinnamon over them, tossing them together in a bowl to coat the apples evenly. The sweet aroma of the apples mixed with the cinnamon made you feel cozy, almost nostalgic.

4. Mix the cake batter. In another bowl, you combined 1 1/2 cups of flour, 1 teaspoon of baking powder, and a pinch of salt. In a separate bowl, you whisked 1/2 cup of sugar and 1/4 cup of softened butter until creamy. You added in 2 eggs, one at a time, mixing well after each addition. Then, you alternated adding the dry ingredients and 1/2 cup of milk, mixing until the batter was smooth and thick.

5. Assemble the cake. You greased the cake pan and poured the batter into the bottom, smoothing it out evenly. Then, you carefully arranged the apple slices on top, creating a beautiful layer of apples. Finally, you sprinkled the crumble mixture over the apples, making sure every bit of the cake had a sweet, crunchy topping.

"You've got this!" the lady cheered as you placed the pan in the oven. "Just bake it for about 45 minutes, or until the top is golden and the cake is cooked through."

You set the timer, your excitement building as you imagined Ronin's reaction. The cake was still baking, but you could already picture him, leaning against the counter, that smirk tugging at his lips as he took the first bite.

As the cake baked, the sweet smell of apples and cinnamon filled the shop, making your stomach rumble again. The lady at the counter was busy helping other customers, but she occasionally glanced over at you, giving you encouraging smiles.

When the timer finally went off, you carefully pulled the apple crumble cake from the oven. The golden topping and the caramelized apples glistened in the soft light of the bakery, and you couldn't help but feel proud. It looked perfect—just like the surprise you wanted to give Ronin.

"Wow, that looks amazing!" one of the other ladies exclaimed as she came over to inspect. "You're a natural!"

You blushed, feeling shy again. "I hope he likes it."

They all gathered around, admiring the cake with smiles, their eyes twinkling with warmth. "He’s going to love it," the first lady said, "and it’s so sweet of you to make it for him yourself."

You grinned, feeling a wave of happiness wash over you. Despite all the nerves and the uncertainty about Ronin's feelings, you knew one thing for sure: this cake, this surprise, was your way of showing him just how much you cared.

"Thank you so much for your help," you said, handing over the empty bowls and utensils. "This really means a lot to me."

"No problem at all, sweetie!" the lady said, her voice full of affection. "You come back anytime if you need any more help."

With a cake box in hand, filled with your creation, you left the shop, feeling more confident than ever. You had the perfect gift for Ronin, and you couldn’t wait for tomorrow to see his reaction.

It was going to be a birthday he would never forget.

You were struggling to carry all the bags, your hands full of everything from gothic jewelry to new mechanics equipment and the ingredients for the cake you’d just made. The weight of it all made your arms ache, and you couldn’t help but feel a little overwhelmed as you tried to juggle everything. You were so focused on keeping everything from falling that you didn’t hear your phone ring at first.

When you finally glanced at the screen, you saw Angel’s name flashing in bold letters.

"Hey," you answered, trying to sound casual as you shifted the bags in your arms, feeling your fingers beginning to cramp. "What's up?"

"How are you?" Angel’s voice came through, light and cheerful, but there was a slight teasing undertone. "Seems like you left Ronin’s early this morning, huh?"

You bit your lip, trying to focus on walking straight without tripping over your own feet. "Yeah, just bought stuff... a lot of stuff," you said, a sigh slipping from your lips. "I don’t even know how I’m gonna carry all this back."

Angel laughed lightly. "Sounds like you’ve been busy," she teased. "You know, if you want, I can get a taxi for you. Just send me your address, and I’ll make sure you’re all set."

You glanced around, the thought of navigating the rest of the trip home with all this in hand was making you more exhausted by the second. "It’s fine, really. I can manage," you said, though your voice had a slight tinge of defeat. It wasn’t like you didn’t appreciate her offer, but you didn’t want to seem like you couldn’t handle it.

"Okay, but seriously, let me know if you change your mind. Don’t be stubborn," she replied with a chuckle, then her tone shifted slightly. "So, um… do you think it’s okay if the server keeps Ronin tomorrow for a while? I mean, just to give you some space, you know? It’s his birthday, and… well, I was thinking it might be nice if he gets a little time with the others."

You paused for a moment, contemplating her question. It was a small thing, but it was also a little strange to think about. "Yeah, that’s fine," you replied, your voice a little softer now. "Ronin’s not the type to care about stuff like that. He probably won’t even notice."

Angel’s voice was warm, a little teasing but understanding. "Well, I’m sure you’ll make up for it later," she said with a wink in her tone. "You’ve got all that cool stuff, right? And that cake—he’s gonna love it."

You smiled at the thought, the cake was a simple thing, but you were so proud of it. "I hope so," you replied. "I just... wanted to do something nice for him."

Angel's voice softened. "I know you do. And I think he’ll really appreciate it. But hey, if you’re ever overwhelmed, you know you can always reach out, okay? I’ve got your back."

"Thanks, Angel," you said quietly, feeling a warmth spread through you at her words. "I appreciate it."

you were walking, your thoughts still scattered between the bags, the cake, and tomorrow’s plans, you suddenly felt a jolt—someone bumped into you, knocking into your arms. The bags in your hands swayed dangerously, and for a second, you thought everything was going to fall, the cake included. You gasped, eyes wide as you fumbled, barely managing to catch everything in time.

“Woah, sorry,” a deep voice rumbled from behind you. You froze. That voice. You knew it all too well.

You slowly turned, looking up to find a man standing before you. His dark, piercing gaze met yours, and you couldn’t help but feel your heart skip a beat in confusion and wariness. V.

He looked at you, his expression unreadable, before speaking in that familiar gravelly tone that always sent shivers down your spine, “I’ve seen you before, but I don’t think we’ve met.”

Your mind raced. V? The same V who hated Ronin? The one who had crossed paths with him multiple times, their rivalry simmering just beneath the surface, full of unspoken tension? Your instinct told you to be cautious, to step back, but you tried to keep your composure.

“It must be a coincidence,” you muttered quickly, trying to brush past him. You didn’t want to deal with this right now. Ronin’s strange behavior, the looming sense of tension you’d been feeling—it was all enough without running into V at this exact moment.

But V’s next words stopped you in your tracks. “Stop,” he said, his voice low, almost commanding, like Batman on a bad day. There was a certain weight to it, something that made you freeze even though you didn’t want to.

His intense gaze stayed locked on you as he stepped forward, taking some of the bags from your hands. You hesitated, feeling a strange knot form in your stomach. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust him—it was just… unsettling. The tension between him and Ronin was something you could never ignore. You didn’t want to get caught in the middle of whatever that was.

“You’re carrying a lot,” he said, his tone still dark, but strangely softer now. “Let me help you.”

For a moment, you considered refusing, but there was something about the way he said it, his presence overwhelming in that strange way, that made it difficult to refuse. Reluctantly, you handed over a few more bags. As he adjusted the weight, you couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly he carried them, his strength almost unnerving. The silence between you both felt thick, oppressive.

You looked away, trying to dismiss the unsettling feeling growing inside you. "Thanks... I guess," you muttered, trying to move on. “I’ve got it from here.”

V didn’t say anything for a moment, but then his eyes flickered toward you, and you felt like he was seeing right through you. Something about the way he observed you made your skin crawl a little. It wasn’t malicious, exactly, but it felt like he was studying you—like there was something about you he was trying to figure out.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asked, his voice softening just a little. “You look... a little off. I’ve seen that look before. You don’t have to hide it.”

You blinked, startled. “What look?” You hadn’t realized you’d been so transparent, but there was something about his presence, something in the air, that made you uneasy.

He seemed to smile, though it wasn’t one you could read. “It’s nothing.” He stepped back, giving you space as you adjusted the bags, your heart racing slightly. “But be careful. Not everyone is who they seem to be.” His voice had taken on a warning tone now.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up as you nodded, unsure of what to say. Was he warning you about Ronin? Was he talking about the things that had been on your mind all day?

“Thanks for helping,” you said, your voice uncertain but polite as you tried to turn away, ready to get back to your task and leave this strange encounter behind you.

V didn’t follow you, but his eyes stayed on you for a beat longer than you’d expected. You walked away quickly, feeling that unsettling gaze on your back, and for a moment, you thought you could still feel it—the weight of someone’s eyes, watching, tracking you.

It was almost as if it reminded you of Ronin, of how he would sometimes seem to observe you while you slept, even though you knew he was just close, close enough to keep you safe in his twisted way.

But you shook that thought away. That was probably just your mind playing tricks on you, wasn’t it? Ronin wouldn’t do anything weird. Right?

You fumbled with the bags, feeling the weight of them pulling on your arms as you approached the house. The familiar sight of Ronin's garage was there, quiet and dim. But as you approached the front door, something caught your attention—there was an unusual silence. The door was locked. You frowned, pulling out your keys, only to realize you had forgotten them inside.

A brief pang of frustration hit, but you dismissed it quickly. No big deal, you could sneak in through the basement. The back door wasn’t locked, after all.

You shuffled toward the side, carefully placing the bags down so they wouldn’t spill open, the cake still nestled in its box, precariously balanced between them. It wasn’t easy carrying all this, but the thought of making Ronin happy, especially with his birthday right around the corner, kept you motivated.

You crouched and entered through the basement door, the cool air immediately wrapping around you like a cloak. It was a little darker down here than you expected, but you didn’t mind; you were used to the shadows. The basement felt like a safe haven to you, hidden from the rest of the world.

But as you moved deeper into the cluttered space, your foot caught on something. Tires. They were placed in a rough pattern, almost like they were meant to trip someone up. Before you could stop yourself, your foot slipped, and you stumbled forward, bags flying out of your grip.

The cake box hit the ground with a dull thud. You gasped, feeling the tears rise at the thought of the cake being ruined, all your hard work for nothing. You quickly knelt, fumbling to check on the condition of the cake. You hadn't realized the position it had fallen into yet, but you couldn't think about that too much. You needed to make sure it was still in one piece.

"Dear Maria!" you muttered under your breath, but before you could stand up, a pair of hands wrapped around your neck from behind, fingers tightening in an almost suffocating grip. Your breath hitched, panic flooding you instantly. You didn’t have to see who it was to know. You’d felt his presence before.

Ronin Beaufort.

“Where the hell were you?” His voice was low, demanding, the usual mix of frustration and something darker. “What were you doing with V?”

You froze, the air squeezing from your lungs. You hadn’t expected him to catch you here, not like this. You felt your heart race, and your thoughts scrambled, trying to find the right words. You hadn’t even known V was following you, or why he was even there. “I—I don’t know,” you stammered, the words tumbling out. “It’s nothing. I didn’t even know it was V until I saw him in person. He just bumped into me. I swear, I didn’t do anything.”

Ronin’s grip tightened for a second, as if to gauge the sincerity of your words. The tension in the air between you both was suffocating, his presence so overpowering it was almost like he could feel every little movement you made.

But then, just as quickly as he’d grabbed you, his fingers loosened, and he pulled away. You gasped for air, blinking rapidly, the relief short-lived as you tried to make sense of what just happened.

Ronin stared at you for a moment longer, his eyes unreadable, before he spoke again. “Sit.” His voice was flat, but the command still rang in your ears. “Sit in the chair.”

You glanced up, your eyes still a little wide from the shock. The chair in the corner was always a spot he used for moments like this, though you didn’t exactly know what to expect. You hesitated for a second, then slowly shuffled toward it, feeling like a puppet on strings, your body moving of its own accord.

You lowered yourself onto the chair, feeling the weight of the moment settle around you. The bags were scattered, and the cake—it had fallen. You didn’t dare to look at it fully yet, too scared of what you might find.

Ronin didn’t sit; instead, he remained standing, looking down at you with an unreadable expression. His eyes flickered toward the box that had once held the cake. “What the hell is going on with you?” he asked again, his voice softer, but no less piercing. "You’ve been acting weird."

You felt your stomach twist at his question, not sure how to answer. You wanted to explain that it was just a moment of panic, a slip of the mind, but the truth was, the feeling had been building for a while now—this strange tension, this overwhelming sense that you weren’t sure of anything anymore. You didn’t know how to explain that to him, or if he would even understand.

You swallowed hard, your throat dry. “I... I’m fine,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. But deep down, you weren’t sure if you were lying to him or to yourself.

Ronin stood there, arms crossed, his usual detached expression masking whatever turmoil was swirling beneath the surface. The basement was dim, and the faint light from the overhead bulb cast harsh shadows across his features. His posture was slack, but his eyes—his eyes were sharp, always watching, always searching for the tiniest crack to slip his hand into.

You swallowed, feeling the weight of your apology settle in your chest. The tension between you both felt like a thick fog, pressing down on everything you wanted to say, but you forced yourself to speak through it.

"Ronin… I’m sorry for what happened the other day. Brushing you off like that… I know it was wrong. But there was a reason behind everything. It might sound like an excuse, but… will you listen?"

He raised an eyebrow, the typical edge in his voice softening, if only slightly. His usual demeanor was more guarded, but you saw a flicker of curiosity beneath the hardness. Still, his reply came with a bite.

"What is it, darlin’? Better not be some bullshit reason. I won’t forgive you if it’s bullshit."

Your heart pounded. You could almost feel the weight of his eyes, scrutinizing you, as if he could see through every single hesitation. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "Tomorrow’s your birthday, right?"

His gaze hardened instantly, but the surprise in his eyes was unmistakable. You could feel the weight of his surprise hanging in the air. It was the first time in a while you had seen him at a loss for words, and for a moment, you thought he might break that post-ironic façade of his.

You continued, not letting the sudden shift in his expression distract you. "That’s why I wanted to celebrate. So I’ve been preparing this whole time. I was talking to Angel, looking through shops that could maybe help with the cake… I was debating what would make for a good present. I… I really wanted it to be a surprise."

He was silent for a moment, his jaw clenched, as though he was running over your words, trying to understand the meaning behind them. His eyes softened just a fraction, and for a moment, you thought maybe you were getting through to him. But then, his voice cut through the silence—laced with confusion and that familiar edge of sarcasm.

"Then why didn’t you tell me?" His tone held an odd mix of frustration and disbelief, as though the concept of you keeping something from him didn’t quite sit right. "What the hell do you mean 'you wanted to surprise me'? You didn’t think I’d want to know?"

You bit your lip, guilt gnawing at you. "Because I wanted it to be a surprise, so I figured it would be better if you didn’t know," you admitted quietly. "I’m sorry."

He let out a sharp laugh, but there was no humor in it. "God," he muttered under his breath, rubbing his face with his hand. "So you’re saying because of that, I got the wrong idea and got mad without a reason? Shit… I was completely thrown by Misaki's stupidity." The confession seemed to deflate him a little. His usual bitterness faded as he took a step back, arms uncrossing as if some of the tension in his body was finally being released. You didn’t know what to say at first, but you knew you had to push through it.

"I truly am sorry," you murmured, glancing up at him through your lashes.

Ronin smirked, though it wasn’t one of his usual mocking grins. "By the way, don’t you see? I’m your average pretty anti-Christ devil Family friendly serial killer, you know?" He said it with the same post-ironic tone he always used, knowing full well how ridiculous it sounded, but that was exactly why he said it. For the rise it would get from you. "Did you really think I’d celebrate every single birthday still?" You blinked, feeling a pang of discomfort at the sharpness of his words. Still, you couldn’t help but feel the underlying vulnerability in the way he said it, like he was testing you, poking at the idea to see how you'd react.

"No," you replied softly, your voice just above a whisper. "Even if you are one… even if you are someone else, it’s still your birthday. And I… I think it’s important." You hesitated for a moment, your fingers twitching slightly. "It’s the day you were born into this world, after all. I’m happy to be with you. That’s what matters to me."

His eyes flicked to you, their depth now unreadable. The room was silent for a few moments, the only sound the faint hum of the fridge in the corner. For a split second, you thought maybe he would brush it all off, that usual detachment settling back in.

But then, a small, almost imperceptible shift happened. Ronin’s eyes softened, the sarcastic edge fading. "Don’t go acting all sweet on me, alright?" he muttered, and for a moment, you couldn’t tell if it was admiration or something darker, but you saw a trace of something real in his words. His expression didn’t soften entirely, but you could feel the walls he’d put up around himself, crumbling just a little.

Ronin’s gaze softened as he stepped closer, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. The tension in the air shifted, becoming thick with something unspoken as his eyes drifted down to your hand, where your ring finger had a faint bruise from earlier.

Without saying a word, Ronin reached out, his fingers brushing against your skin as he gently held your hand. You blinked in surprise, not expecting him to do anything about the injury, but when he leaned down and pressed a soft, almost hesitant kiss to the spot where you’d hurt yourself, a shiver ran up your spine.

“What…?” you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper, heart fluttering at his sudden gentleness.

He didn’t answer at first. Instead, he gently licked the spot where the wound had been, as if trying to soothe it, his eyes never leaving yours. The act was unexpected, but his usual edge of sarcasm was replaced by something almost tender.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. “Put a small bandage on it. You don’t need to make a big deal out of it.”

You hesitated, the warmth of his touch still lingering on your skin. "It’s a small wound," you said, trying to downplay it, but his gaze hardened slightly as he pulled back.

“Shut up,” Ronin snapped, though his words were softer than usual. There was no malice in them, just a kind of raw affection that he wasn’t quite ready to admit. He then let out a small sigh, his lips curving into a smile that was rare but real. “You’re lucky I’m even treating you like this, darling.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his gruffness, feeling a warmth bloom in your chest. “Okay…” you replied innocently, your voice almost teasing despite the situation.

Just as you were about to say something else, a loud alarm suddenly blared from your phone. The sound sliced through the moment, making you jump in surprise. You glanced at the screen, your heart skipping a beat as you saw the notification.

Midnight Bell. It’s his birthday.

You froze for a moment, eyes wide in realization. Your breath caught in your throat, and a burst of excitement rushed through you. It was finally his birthday. The moment you had been preparing for had arrived.

Ronin, for once, didn’t seem irritated by the sound. Instead, his eyes darkened slightly, as if he had been expecting this moment too. “Well, well,” he said, his voice low, a dangerous smirk curling at the edges of his lips. “It’s about time, huh?”

"Ah… the midnight bell…" you muttered, your hands trembling slightly as you glanced at the time.

Ronin's voice was a drawl, almost bored as he stared at you, but you could hear the subtle amusement beneath it. “...The date changed.”

You laughed nervously, fumbling for words. “It’s your birthday! Congratulations, Ronin!"

"Yeah..." he replied, voice quiet, almost indifferent, but you could see a faint smile tugging at his lips. The sort of smile that made your heart skip a beat, despite yourself.

Your thoughts quickly turned to the cake. Present? You thought. Oh no... I forgot the cake... The panic surged within you as you realized what you’d done. “Aahーー!!”

Ronin’s eyebrows raised slightly at your sudden outburst. " What’s your problem!? Suddenly shouting like that..."

You tried to steady your breath. "The cake... I forgot I dropped it..."

Ronin's gaze shifted to the side where the box lay carelessly on the counter. "Cake? ... could it be that box laying over there...?"

You winced. "Y-Yeah... When I tried to come sneakily but you.. I accidentally..."

"God..." he muttered, shaking his head but not with anger, more like exasperation. It was almost endearing in a twisted way.

You lowered your head, feeling embarrassed. "S-Sorry!!"

Ronin gave you a look that could’ve been a warning, but then his lips curled into a smirk. "Pfft! You're making a funny face. ...There we go."

He effortlessly walked over to the box, picking it up with a casual motion. You couldn’t help but watch him. The cake had obviously been ruined by the fall—cream spilling out from the sides, a far cry from the masterpiece you’d envisioned—but Ronin seemed unfazed.

He tilted the box toward his face, his gaze flicking between you and the cake. The squirt of cream against his finger was almost… intimate. He tasted it with a smirk, licking the finger clean, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Well... it’s a little ruined, but it’s not bad, you know?" Ronin said, his voice dark and laced with amusement.

You stood there, unsure how to respond, staring at the disaster of a cake. "I’m so sorry... I didn’t mean to..."

He leaned in, his expression sharpening into something more dangerous, more teasing. "Tch. Don’t apologize so much. It’s not the end of the world, darling. But now..."

The room was quiet except for the soft rustling of the sheets and the occasional chuckle that escaped Ronin’s lips as he leaned back against the headboard. The cake—though squashed and imperfect—lay between you both, a symbol of the night’s chaotic charm. You’d tried to make everything perfect, but it seemed you were always a step behind with Ronin, always stumbling, always flustered.

It was his birthday now, and you still couldn’t shake off the worry that you hadn’t quite done enough.

You sat across from him, hands shaking slightly as you tried to prepare the cake. "Ah... Well, here it is," you said, the corners of your mouth curling up nervously as you presented the nearly ruined cake. "I—I’m sorry it’s not perfect..."

Ronin, with that same signature smirk of his, peered at the cake before his eyes flicked to you. "Tch, you’re making that face again. No need to apologize." He let out a chuckle, leaning over and inspecting the cake as if it were something strange he’d never encountered before. "It’s fine. I’m gonna eat this one."

You blinked, taken aback. "You will?"

"Why not? It’s your hard work, right?" Ronin teased, then grabbed the box from the table. "Let’s see what you made for me."

You tried to suppress your smile as he leaned back on the bed, unceremoniously digging into the cake, licking the spilled cream from his fingers with a casualness that both startled and excited you.

"See? Not so bad after all," he muttered, flicking his eyes toward you. His eyes softened a bit—just a bit. "Don’t sweat it."

You nodded, relieved, though there was still a sense of nervousness running through your veins. "Actually... I have a present for you, too," you murmured, feeling the rush of embarrassment flush your face. You hadn’t expected to feel so vulnerable tonight, but Ronin had a way of making everything feel... amplified.

"A present?" Ronin arched a brow, his smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I’m listening."

You took a deep breath before reaching over and pulling out a small, carefully wrapped box. The ruby earrings inside glimmered softly under the dim light. "I... I noticed you always wear one in your right ear, so I thought this color would suit you."

Ronin’s gaze flicked over the gift, his expression unreadable at first. Then, with a brief chuckle, he responded, "Fitting for me... Hah. This gemstone’s bright red, just like your blood, after all."

You paused, stunned for a second. "W-What?"

He waved it off, his smirk never fading. "Kidding. It’s fine. The color... it’s fitting."

The words hit harder than you expected. "It’s passion," you added softly, your fingers brushing against the delicate box. "And pure love... something like that."

Ronin’s eyes softened, just a fraction, as he looked down at the earrings. "Passion, huh... Pure love..." He chuckled lightly, the sound soft but carrying that familiar edge. "Thanks."

You nodded, feeling a surge of warmth in your chest as the conversation shifted.

"Let’s just eat the cake already," Ronin muttered, clearly not in the mood for any more speeches. "I’ll probably regret this tomorrow, but tonight’s special."

You smiled as you picked up a fork, cutting a piece of the cake. "Alright, alright, let me just get you a piece."

As you handed him the piece of cake, Ronin leaned back and gave you an almost bored look, his eyes half-lidded. "Hmph. No offense, but eating it like this would be boring."

Your brow furrowed, confused for a second. "What do you mean?"

"Feed me," Ronin said, his voice almost mocking, though there was an unmistakable demand to it.

You blinked, your stomach flipping. "Eh!? No way!"

"Why not?" he said with a raised eyebrow, not even bothering to look at you directly. "You’ve been going on about listening to me, right? Well, now it’s time to put that into action. Don’t make me repeat myself."

You felt heat flood your cheeks, but before you could protest further, Ronin was already leaning forward, cutting a fresh piece of the cake for you.

"Here," he said, holding the cake up to your lips. "Open up."

You blinked, feeling your heart race as you stared at the piece of cake hovering just in front of your mouth. It was absurdly intimate, and yet, in some twisted way, it felt... natural. You could already feel the edge of Ronin's gaze on you, and there was no escaping that look.

You sighed, giving in. "Fine," you murmured, opening your mouth just enough for him to feed you.

As you took the bite, your heart pounded even faster. Ronin’s eyes never left you, his smirk returning in full force as you chewed the cake slowly.

"Good, huh?" he teased, his voice low and almost dangerous.

You nodded quickly, trying to suppress the nerves threatening to spill over. "Y-Yeah. It’s good."

Ronin watched you for a moment, amused by your flustered state. "Now it’s your turn," he said, his eyes glinting. "Feed me."

Your eyes widened. "No way! That’s—"

"Do it," he growled, leaning in closer, his voice dropping to a low, teasing whisper. "You said you’d listen, didn’t you?"

The command in his voice was unshakable, and despite your reluctance, you found yourself leaning forward, holding the cake between your fingers and lifting it to his lips.

"Alright, alright," you muttered, your face flushed with heat. "Ahn."

Ronin’s eyes gleamed as he leaned in, accepting the cake, his gaze sharp and possessive as he chewed slowly, savoring the moment. "There we go," he murmured. "Now we’re even."

You swallowed, trying to control your racing heart. It wasn’t the cake or even the birthday celebration anymore—it was something else entirely.

Ronin leaned back on the bed, wiping his mouth lazily with the back of his hand after finishing the last bite of the cake. A grin stretched across his face, almost too smug. "Heh. Is that all?" he teased, the tone in his voice making it clear he was enjoying every second of your flustered state.

You, however, had a different idea. Your smile widened with something darker, more playful. "Not quite," you said, standing up and brushing crumbs off your lap as you moved toward the door. "You see, I may have something else for you... something more... interesting."

Ronin’s eyebrows arched, clearly intrigued, though he didn’t rise from the bed just yet. "More?" he asked with a mix of amusement and suspicion.

You only gave him a sly grin before disappearing out the door, reappearing moments later with bags—bags upon bags, the weight of them evident as you dragged them behind you.

Ronin’s expression shifted. "What the hell is all this?" His voice held a note of both amusement and disbelief as you began pulling the bags one by one into the room. "You’ve got more of this stuff hidden in your basement?"

You nodded, smiling sweetly as you placed the first bag next to him. "Oh, there’s a lot more downstairs," you said casually. "I figured you’d like them."

Ronin’s eyes widened, his interest piqued. "A whole damn basement full of... what, presents?"

You shrugged, not bothering to give away all your secrets. "You can say that. I figured I should really get something special for you. You know, for all the things you’ve done."

Ronin just stared at you as you unloaded the contents of the first bag, his gaze narrowing as he saw the items in front of him. First, there was a beanie—black, perfectly styled, just like the one he always wore. He couldn’t help but smirk, though there was a slight confusion in his eyes.

"Nice," he muttered, running his fingers through it. "But, uh, I’m starting to wonder... how many damn bags do you have?"

You didn't answer right away. Instead, you continued pulling out more bags, each one filled with more extravagant, bizarre items: dark, emo clothes, studded jackets, chains, ripped jeans, and layers upon layers of black fabric that screamed both punk and chaos. Ronin looked at them, then back at you, eyes flicking with disbelief. "What... is all this?"

"And..." you said with a dramatic pause, pulling out something else, "your crowbar." You placed it next to him with a flourish, like it was the final piece of a grand display. "A new crowbar separately for your work, the one you’d want."

Ronin blinked, his gaze switching from the crowbar back to you. He was visibly taken aback, mouth slightly agape. "How the hell did you get all of this stuff, Y/N?"

You sat down beside him on the bed, your fingers lightly brushing against his as you gave him a sly, confident look. "Well... let’s just say I saved up all the tips you gave me."

His eyes widened further. "You—what? How long has this been going on?" He let out a low whistle, his disbelief turning into a mix of admiration and something close to shock. "I didn’t realize I was such a great tipper."

You shrugged, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. "Hey, it’s fine. ." You leaned forward, your voice lowering as you added, "It’s just... the least I could do."

Ronin’s expression softened, though there was a tinge of something else in his eyes—something like warmth mixed with the confusion of being overwhelmed by your unexpected generosity.

He looked down at the piles of presents in front of him, the crowbar, the clothes, the beanie, everything carefully picked out and perfectly fitting for his twisted sense of style. After a long pause, his voice finally came, gruff but sincere. "Thank you," he muttered, meeting your eyes. "This... this is a lot. I didn’t expect... all this."

You smiled, your hand resting gently in his as you gave a soft squeeze. "It’s nothing, really. You’ve given me so much... I just wanted to give back." Your voice softened as you added, "I’ll always find a way, even if it means saving every penny for months."

Ronin took a deep breath, trying to suppress the emotions welling up in him. He shook his head, a rare, genuine smile breaking through his usual smug facade. "You’re insane,"

Ronin smirked, leaning back against the counter as you nervously brought the slice of cake closer. His plum-colored hair framed his face, and those sharp eyes of his glinted mischievously as he leaned in.

Now, He wants to shut up!

"Good, just like that, transfer it to my mouth…" he murmured, voice dripping with playful mockery.

Your cheeks flamed as you complied, but before you could even think of pulling back, Ronin’s lips grazed the fork—and your fingers, on purpose, of course.

"Mmm… Nn…" he mused exaggeratedly, his eyes gleaming with amusement as you fidgeted.

"Ronin! Seriously—!" you protested, pulling your hand back.

He leaned in closer, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "What? You’re blushing like crazy, darling. Was it that good?" He chuckled darkly. "Gotta say though… it was delicious."

You turned your head, already flustered, but his gaze pinned you in place.

"Wait, darling," he said casually, his voice dropping. "You’ve got some cream stuck on your mouth. Sit still. I’ll get it for you."

Before you could react, his thumb brushed over your lips, but instead of wiping it away, Ronin leaned in, his tongue darting out to taste the sweetness from your skin.

"Nn… Sweet," he murmured, his lips curling into a smirk.

"Ronin! " you gasped, trying to squirm away, only for him to suddenly push you back against the counter.

"Ah—!"

"Damn…" he muttered, pinning you beneath him, his breath hot against your ear. "It’s your fault for moving, darling. You know better than to disobey me."

"Let me up—!" you stammered, your heartbeat thundering as he hovered over you.

"Not a chance." His voice was low and teasing, laced with a hint of danger. His eyes burned into yours, and his smirk widened. "Now that you’ve got me all riled up… how about I skip the cake and gobble you up instead, hmm?"

Before you could even muster a reply, he leaned in, sinking his teeth gently into the crook of your neck.

"Ah—!"

Ronin groaned softly against your skin, savoring every moment. "Damn, darling… The cake was good, but this…" He licked his lips as he pulled back slightly, his breath hitching. "Your sweetness puts that lovely apple crumble to shame."

You tried to catch your breath, your fingers gripping his arms weakly. "R-Ronin… the cake… your presents—"

He silenced you with a low chuckle, his face impossibly close. "I don’t care about the cake. And the gifts? Yeah, those are nice too, but they don’t compare to you, darling. You’re the best damn thing anyone could’ve given me."

"R-Ronin…"

He pressed another kiss to your neck, humming softly. "Never thought I’d give a damn about my birthday, but if this is what it’s like… I could get used to it."

You felt your resolve wavering, his words melting into you like honey. "T-Thank you for being born, Ronin…" you whispered. "I love you."

His movements stilled for a moment, his gaze locking with yours. "Say that again, I love you too." he demanded softly.

"I love you," you repeated, your voice trembling.

A slow, wicked grin spread across his face. "Good." He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a ghost of a kiss. "Now, darling…" His tone dropped dangerously. "Don’t think for a second I’ll ever let you leave my side. You’re mine. Forever. Got it?"

His hand clasped yours tightly as he murmured against your lips, "I’ll treasure you, darling—always."

Forever, indeed.

A dream, A shame, the last thing you remember is being.....hit by the same man, you found peace out.

Hey why..?

Was I that painful to you? Did I become boring to you?

Or Did you give me the peace I wanted..?

#ronin beaufort #ronin killer chat #ronin x reader #killer chat ronin #killer chat #killer chat x reader #killer chat ronin x reader #killer chat ronin x you #ronin beaufort x reader #kc ronin #visual novel #fanfic #killer chat angel #killer chat V #Misaki #Killer chat Misaki

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strangersteddierthings · 2 years ago

Text

[To read on Ao3]

It's Saturday evening and Steve is annoyed. He doesn't understand why everyone won't just stop asking if he wants to talk.

It'll be better for you to get it out of your system, Steve. (Nancy) Talking these things through really helped me, Steve. (Max) You know we're here for you, don't you, Steve? (Dustin) If anyone understands, it's us. Me. You know that, right, Steve? (Robin)

Isn't he allowed to have one damn secret to himself!? Robin did almost get him to crack because out of everyone, Robin would understand his ridiculous, almost overwhelming crush on Eddie Munson.

He's not keeping it a secret because he's embarrassed of his crush, but because he's afraid of rejection for the first time ever. Based on past experience, Steve has always been the one doing the rejecting. In fact, Steve would argue he's never been rejected before. Nancy and he broke up, and breaking up doesn't count as rejection. It's just a change in feelings. And Robin didn't reject him because she had told a half truth when they thought they were gonna die, and then came out to him when he confessed, and rejection also doesn't count if you were never a romantic option to begin with.

Eddie is the first crush he's had (that he's willing to, eventually, act upon) that he's uncertain about. Eddie flirts with him, sure, but he also flirts with Robin, Nancy, Jonathan, and Argyle. He doesn't shy away from Steve's touch, but he rarely initiates it himself. Everything Steve tries to test, to gauge Eddie's interest, just falls flat, or doesn't work, or isn't enough to show if Eddie likes him romantically or as a friend.

Anyway, it's Saturday evening and Steve is annoyed. Annoyed because he knows that waiting for him at his own house is an ambush (an intervention, they'd called it) from his own supposed friends. Steve had just listened to them plan the whole thing over the walkie talkie.

When Steve pulls into his driveway, he's a little impressed at that fact nothing looks off. There are no extra cars, no bikes scattered across the lawn. The house looks dark, even.

When he goes for the door, it's unlocked, though, which is the dead giveaway. Steve sighs heavily before letting himself in. He doesn't bother to flick on the light in the foyer, just shrugging out of the Family Video vest and toeing off his shoes, leaving both in a pile by the door before squinting into the house.

It is dark, but he can make out irregular shapes, lightly illuminated by the light from the backyard coming through the large windows on the far wall. It looks like they've rearranged his furniture. He also hears the slight creak of the floorboards, from the kitchen. That would be Lucas, who Steve knows has been tasked with sneaking around and making sure Steve can't just bolt back out the front door (like he's ever actually run away from a confrontation).

They were very thorough with the planning. Steve knows where a majority of people are lurking, cutting him off from 'fleeing'. Lucas in the kitchen, to cut him off from the front door. El at the top of the stairs so he can't hide in his room. Argyle stationed in the hall that leads to the garage. Everyone else scatted throughout the living and dining room.

Might as well get this over with.

Steve makes it about halfway to the living room before a single floor lamp lights up. It illuminates Robin, who has turned his father's favorite chair around to face the front door instead of the TV, arm still up from where she'd twisted the nob on the lamp. "Steve. We need to talk."

"Buckley," Steve answers, calm as he can manage, surveying the room. Everyone else is just out of the line of light from this ancient lamp. He wonders how they managed that. Still. He knows they're here, so with as much confidence as he can muster, he looked directly at an out of place shadow and hopes he's right as he says, "you want to talk, too, I suppose?"

"How-" it's Dustin's voice that starts to speak and is quickly cut off with a smacking sound. Steve's willing to bet it's Max or Erica who slaps a hand over Dustin's mouth to keep him quit.

"Okay, so Dustin's here, too," Robin says, trying to regain control of the ambush but Steve's not having it.

He puts his hands on his hips and says in a voice loud enough to be heard throughout the quiet house, "And Lucas, sneaking though the kitchen to the door. Argyle in the hallway, El upstairs. The rest of you are here, too. I heard the whole thing on the walkie."

"What! You were supposed to be at work!" Dustin yelps as almost every light flicks on at once. Each light switch has a person stationed at it. Steve can now see Jonathan and Nancy to his right, Dustin, Max, and Mike also to the right, but further into the living room. To the left, Argyle has made his was from the hallway, and Eddie (Jesus fuck, only this group of assholes bring his crush to the intervention about refusing to talk about his crush! (not that they know about the crush)), Erica and Will mirror the position of the others, almost against the wall to stay out of the light from the windows. He hears the stairs creak as El makes her way down.

"I was. It was slow. I got the walkie from my trunk to ask someone to save me from boredom just in time to hear your scheming," says Steve.

"We aren't scheming, Steve," Robin says, standing from the chair now and stepping closer. "We're worried. You don't talk to us."

"I talk to, like, almost all of you every day!"

"Not about important things!"

"I happen to think that discussing the newest releases is important. Tells me a lot about all of your guys' terrible taste in movies."

"Steve!" Nancy steps in now, "this is serious."

"It's really not. You are all making a big deal about this and it's not!" Steve says.

"Why are you keeping this from us?" Max pipes up, "if you can't talk to us about this, then who can you? We understand."

"Look, I know we've all experienced this.... issue, at some point, but that's doesn't mean I want to talk to any of you about it-"

"Issue he says! You can't even say it," Robin challenges him, matching his hands on hip stance, mirroring him.

Steve closes his eyes and takes a deep breath through his nose. This is getting ridiculous. Of course, he can't say it! He's barely gotten through his sexuality crisis and hasn't even come out to Robin yet! He wants to, really, but... "Listen. I appreciate that you are all so invested in this, but you need- sorry, no. I need you to let me do this at my own pace."

"It's been since '83! How much longer do you need!?" Dustin is looking at him like he's grown a second head and that-

What. Wait. What? Steve's brain screeched to a halt. "What."

"What what?" Dustin raises his hands, confused. "You need to talk to someone about what we all went though. The Upside Down! We all talk to you, but you don't talk to any of us and bottling it up isn't healthy."

Steve's arms go limp at his sides and all he can do is blink. They aren't- they don't think- Steve's brain hasn't restarted yet, which is what he blames for what leaves his mouth next. "Wait. This isn't about my crush on Eddie?"

A clatter and the sound of glass breaking, accompanied by Eddie's voice cursing follows that. Steve looked over to see that Eddie seems to have fallen back against the wall he was near, knocking a picture from the wall in the process. He's staring at Steve, though, eyes owlish and he looks like he's about to either faint or run away.

Steve's gut twists because neither of those were the reaction he'd hoped for (but they are the reactions he most expected).

"Your WHAT," Robin screeches and that brings Steve back to his brain.

Oh.

Oh fuck.

He just. He just came out to everyone, all at once, in his living room. This is fine, this is fine. He can deal with this. The room and everyone (oh God, everyone) in it fades away as Steve puts one palm flat on his own chest, focuses on feeling his own touch, on the rise and fall of his chest, trying to remember how he draws breath usually. Normally he can pull himself back this way but it's so much, too much, everyone is watching him-

"Steve. Hand," El's voice is distant but he obeys, hand going out on instinct. El takes it and he feels someone else breathing deep. "Follow. In. In. In. In. Hold. Out. Out. Out. Out. Again. In-" El repeats and repeats, counting each second with a word, and slowly she comes into view, her hand held over his on Lucas' chest. El talks him through it as Lucas demonstrates because it's hard to give instruction and breathe at the same time. This is not the first time El's helped him through a panic attack, but it's usually Hopper who has to demonstrate the breathing for him.

She stops when he calms, allows him to pull his hand away from Lucas but not her own hand. She brings her other to clasp around his, holding his one hand with both of hers.

"Thank you," he whispers.

She gives him a nod, face still serious as she stands next to him.

Steve takes in his surroundings. His panic attack wasn't too long, thankfully, but enough that everyone has moved. He seeks out Eddie subconsciously and finds he's relieved to see that he's taken a seat on the couch, Will next to him all but tucked into his side. No one left, and Steve's glad for that, but they all look so uncertain and off kilter now, scattered across the living room. Robin is a few steps closer than she was before and looks like she wants to finish stepping forward, but not sure if she should.

"Um, thank you guys, for not freaking out while I was freaking out," Steve says, reaching out his other hand to Robin. She takes it and he pulls her into a half hug. "So, uhh, I thought I knew what this was about but guess I didn't."

"Of all the things to think we'd stage an intervention for, having a crush on Ed-someone is certainly not that high on our priority list," Robin snorts from where she's buried her head in his shoulder.

"Well, it makes sense now that it's not about- Maria said I should have talked to you guys sooner, like individually, but too late I guess."

"Who the fuck is Maria!?"

"Language, Henderson," Steve snaps on instinct. "She's my therapist."

For the second time tonight, Robin says, "your WHAT?"

"Therapist?" Steve repeats, but it sounds like a question even to himself because he's almost afraid there's a wrong answer here.

"I didn't know you were seeing a therapist, Steve," Nancy says, voice gentle in a way Nancy's voice really isn't usually. "Do you talk about- I don't know how to phrase this without prying."

Steve rescues her from the awkwardness of having to ask. "She knows about the Upside Down. Dr Owens introduced her after Starcourt. Why are you surprised by this?"

"Because we didn't know," says Dustin.

"I see Maria every Tuesday. How did you not know?" Steve asks.

"What do you mean how did we not know!?" Dustin shouts.

"Can you not shout at me?" Steve sighs. He needs to sit down, so he does. Just drops there, dragging Robin and El with him. Neither complains, though. "I've been going to therapy every Tuesday since '83. I guess it just became part of my schedule, so I don't think about it. And I did, like, actively hide I was seeing a therapist that first year so guess that was habit."

"Is this why you don't talk to us?" Robin's voice is quiet.

"Well, yeah. I didn't realize it was affecting you all so much that I didn't. I thought- I am talking about it. I told Maria about a nightmare I had just last week, I'm not bottling it all up," Steve reassures, "You all talk to me. I didn't wanna create some like, trauma loop where we just talk about how awful it was back and forth and never get, like, closure with it, so I didn't share back. I've just been trying to do for you guys what Maria does for me, but I'm not, like, qualified."

"We could all use some therapy," Nancy says in what seems to be a rather agreeable voice for the tone of the room currently, "but why were you the only one offered help after Starcourt?"

"Oh. Well. It was less Dr Owens offering Maria's service, and more my mom barely refraining from murdering Owens on the spot until he gave into every demand she had. Which, being fair to Owens, he was more than willing to help to begin with."

"Your mom spoke to Owens?" Jonathan speaks for the first time.

"Oh. Wow," Steve blinks, feeling a bit thrown. There's so much he's unintentionally hid from his friends, things that could have been helping them (like them talking to Maria instead of him, have any of them even been offered therapy?) but he's also realizing that they've made an awful lot of assumptions about him without talking to him. "So, wait, I need to know something. How did this come to happen?" He half-heartedly waves towards everything around him with the arm he has half wrapped around Robin.

"The intervention?" Max asks.

"Sorta? No. I get why you thought you needed to intervene, but I don't understand why you came to that conclusion without like, asking me things? All of you were like talk to us Steve we can help Steve we understand Steve but how did it not occure to any of you that I might already be talking to someone?"

It seems the only one brave enough to answer is the person who has known Steve the least, because Argyle says, "far as they could tell, who would you talk to that's not them, bro? Like, you come home to a big empty house. On bad days, Nancy can still cuddle up to her mom and just be held even though Mrs. Wheeler doesn't know what's up, but you're like, alone."

"I-what? What's the implication there?"

"Steve, we can count on one hand the number of times you've ever spoken about your parents," Nancy says, "I guess we all came to the conclusion that you were... you felt like you had to be alone in dealing with the trauma, like you're alone in this house. I mean, we dated for a year and a half, and I never even met your parents."

That's true, but it's because his parents were going through a rough patch and trying to work through his dad's... problem while also working on a big deal for the company. Steve's not going to pretend he knows how his dad's business works but it involves a lot of meetings in cities bigger than Hawkins. "You all mock me for being a rich kid, and then act... what, surprised that my parents actually have to run the company they own?"

"No. The only things you've ever told me about your parents was that your dad was an asshole and that you didn't want them to find out about beer at a party you threw!"

Well. That does paint his dad in a real bad light. "Well, I was younger and stupider when I said those things!"

"When the Russians drugged you, you made a comment. Something about only doing marijuana, dad," Robin says softly from his side. "it's kinda easy to draw the conclusion that your relationship with your parents might be negative at worst, absent at best."

Steve retracts his arm from around Robin, suddenly cold on the inside. He gently shakes off El as well and shoves off the ground so he's standing again, taking three steps back to be able to see everyone at a quick glance around. "I think it's best if we stop this here. I can't- I'm gonna say some shit I'll regret otherwise."

"Steve-"

"Robin," Steve cuts her off, feeling the need to defend his parents, who he loves so fucking much, from his friends. Anger rolls tight under his skin but he doesn't want to give in, so he goes cold instead. "I call my mom every night. They have a mobile phone my dad pays way too much for, so they can know I'm still alive no matter where they have to be currently. My parents are absent," he spits the word like venom, "because I begged them to leave after Starcourt and the only reason they didn't drag me out of here with them kicking and screaming is because I was 18 and legally, they couldn't! That's the only real fight I've ever had with my mom, you know. I told them they had to go because Hawkins is fucking cursed and I couldn't protect all of you and them and-" Steve clamps his mouth shut, swallows down the words. He's going to have to talk to Maria about his hero complex again (he thought he was getting better). No one says a thing in the silence, even though they all look like they want to. Steve takes a deep breath, trying to calm. "I'm going to go call my parents, because they're gonna start to worry, because they do that, if I don't call soon. Let yourselves out like you let yourselves in."

He doesn't quite stomp his way to the kitchen phone, but it's a close call. He could go up to the master bedroom and call privately but a part of him wants them to hear this conversation as they leave. He yanks the phone off the receiver a bit harder then needed and punches in the phone number he's got memorized now. It rings twice.

"Oh Steve, I was just starting to worry!"

"Hi mom. No need to worry. I'm, well, I'm not fine right now, but it's not any Upside Down nonsense."

"Oh, honey, do you want to talk about it?"

"No, not, uh, not right now. I just wanted to hear your voice. To tell you I love you, and I miss you. Dad, too," as Steve speaks he hears the sounds of movement, of shuffling down the hallway and the front door. Resolutely, he keeps his back to the kitchen entrance.

"We love and miss you, too."

"When will you guys be able to come visit?"

"Honey, do you need us? We can be on a plane in a few hours."

Steve smiles at that, and hopes she can hear it in his voice, "no. But, uhh, I wouldn't mind seeing you guys sometime soon."

"We'll make it happen. Hey, how about we have that barbeque you mentioned before. We'd like to be able to meet the people keeping you safe. I do wish the Byers still lived in town, I'd love to catch up with Joyce".

"Oh! I can't believe I didn't tell you! The Byer's are moving back. Oh God! Mom! Hopper's not dead!"

There's a fumbling noise, like perhaps his mom dropped the phone. Some staticky noise, shuffling sounds, and his father's voices comes through the phone, "Steve, your mother looks pretty pale, kiddo. What did you just tell her?"

"Jim Hopper's alive and kicking. The Starcourt Russians kidnapped him apparently."

A deep sigh and then his dad says, "We'll be home in two days, okay kiddo? Gonna want a full explanation of that, but I've got to go, your mom's going to faint -sit down, Stephanie- We love you."

"Love you, too."

Steve hangs up and turns around to see El, Will, and Eddie still lingering by the kitchen entrance. He's not as angry on the inside anymore, and it helps that these three didn't really pipe in and call his parents terrible people who don't love him. (okay, so he's putting words into everyone's mouths, Maria will frown at him hard when he talks about this, but he's going to allow himself to be a little petty right now).

"I am sorry for being part of this," El says, "I do not want you mad at me."

"Never, El," Steve strides forwards, easily pulling El into a hug. She's probably just worried for him because everyone else was worried, and not because she has some idea about what his parents are like. Honestly, El's probably never even thought out Steve's parents even once. "I'm not really mad at anyone. Just... frustrated, and upset, perhaps. We'll all make amends tomorrow, I'm sure."

El releases him after a moment and before she's even fully out of his arms, Will is pulling him into a hug just as deep. Steve's not sure why, he and Will aren't particularly close, but Will clings to him and makes this soft, sob noise as he presses his face into Steve's shoulder, and Steve's wrapping his arms around him on instinct, "Oh, hey baby Byers, it's all good."

Will shakes his head no and just sobs for a moment. Steve lets him, rubs his back after a moment, trying to be soothing. It's a long hug but not awkward. Finally Will pulls back, swiping at his eye with both his hands. "I- thank you, Steve."

Steve is bewildered by that, and it must show on his face, because he hears Eddie try and hide a laugh behind a cough. Steve says, "you're welcome?"

Will doesn't clarify. He just steps back and El takes his hand easily, and the siblings leave, presumably to climb into the back of someone's waiting car.

Which leaves him alone in his house with Eddie.

Eddie, who knows about his crush now because Steve blurted it out loud for everyone to hear.

"I'll leave if you want me to," Eddie says, like he can read Steve's mind, even as he leans against the counter next to him like he plans to stay, "but I- I don't wanna start throwing everyone else under the bus, but I really just thought this was a case of Hero Complex where you think you're only good for getting between us and danger and that we were all gonna try and like, show you how important you are to us all so you'd open up to us. I didn't even think about, like, your parents."

Steve believes that, so he huffs a dry laugh, "yeah. I'm sure you're idea of my parents are snotty rich people who look down on everyone."

Eddie's got the decency to be embarrassed about that truth, if his red face is anything to go on. "Sure, but like, I thought the same thing about you and that turned out to be wrong, so I can admit that. Also, I thought you were an asshole who always got what they wanted, and that's not really a bad parent trait, y'know? Caring about what your kid wants."

"Well, thanks for admitting to it, man."

Eddie nods, then looks away, towards the door. "Do you- should I leave? Do you even want me hear?"

Did he? "Yeah, I want you here. I kinda want Robin, too. I shouldn't have kicked everyone out like that."

"No dude, that was fair. But, uh, I can go chase down Nancy's car and see if Robin will return with me."

Steve does laugh, then, "no. We're so codependent as it is. I just... Robin's been here when I've called my mom. She's here all the time. I don't understand how she just... never picked up on it."

"You always call from the kitchen phone, or do you make it a private conversation? 'Cause Buckley and you are stupidly codependent, but if something's meant to be private, I doubt she's going to be eavesdropping on you."

That's true. And Steve knows he's being irrational. He never said anything, he knows he never even talks about his parents, that they're so rarely even in Hawkins these days, it isn't a farfetched idea to assume it's because he doesn't love them, or they don't' love him. That doesn't stop the hurt he feels for his parents. And a little for himself because, yeah, he never said anything, but also, they never asked.

They see their parents every day, have left their parents in the dark about the truth for reasons Steve doesn't agree with, but he'll never argue that choice with them, never assume they have a bad relationships with their parents for it.

"I had to tell my parents," Steve says, because he and Eddie are just standing in his kitchen in silence and he's thinking these things anyway. Might as well think out loud, "when Billy punched me unconscious and I woke up in my own damn car being driven by Max I just- what if I hadn't made it home to them? What if Billy had hit me one too many times, had beaten me to death? My mom was pacing the living room with worry when I did finally get home. They were supposed to already be on a plane to I don't even know where, but she was so worried about me that she stayed. She didn't even know about the Upside Down. Didn't know how close she'd come to losing me."

Eddie doesn't say anything, but he moves closer, to lean against the kitchen island, across from Steve.

"She was so fucking terrified when she saw me. Wanted to know who did it, what happened, where I'd been- she's never had to patch up anyone after getting a beating, so she tried to usher me back outside, to the car, a hospital I guess, but the thought of leaving the house was so overwhelming. After everything that just happened? I wanted to be home.

"I think she caught on to that. Instead, she pulled me into the bathroom and did her best to clean me up. I tried my hardest to hold it together but she- my mom just took my face in her hands, so gently, afraid to hurt me more," Steve mimics the motion, holding his hands out in front of him like he's cupping a face, "and just said you can tell me what happened, honey. No matter what it is. I love you so much. and I just- I broke down." Steve stops, sucking in a deep breath because just the memory of that night brings back the emotions. His mother's fear for his life. Her love for him.

"I told her everything. Just started talking and couldn't stop. And when I was done, a crying mess on the bathroom floor, she just... just sunk down beside me and held me as I cried. And the craziest part of all, she believed me. The next morning, when I thought for sure she was going to ask what kinda drugs I took to come up with that story, instead, she asked me if she could call Hopper. Wanted to talk to another adult about it," Steve swipes at his eyes, getting misty at the memories before continuing, "the only reason they aren't here right now is because I basically begged them to leave. To go grow their company, I'd said. I'd be here, and I promised to call every night, so they know I'm safe."

"Is that why you've never redecorated?" Eddie asks, out of left field, "'cause having their things around reminds you of them?"

Steve shrugs because he's not sure. "They told me I could change whatever. Make this house your own home, Steve my dad had said but, it's always felt like home, y'know?"

Eddie nods. "Not even a little tempted to change the wallpaper in your room? 'Cause it's pretty fuckin' atrocious man."

That makes Steve bark out a laugh, "ok, yeah, that's just me being lazy."

"Well, if you ever want help removing that wallpaper, count me in. The sooner, the better. How you can stand to look at it, and with those matching curtains, yikes," Eddie is grinning at him and Steve sees what he's doing. Distracting him from the heavy topic. Steve appreciates it. "I won't be caught dead in there until you change it."

"Oh? Hoping to be in my room sometime soon, Eddie?" Steve asks, quirking an eyebrow.

"Well, I did kinda just learn that my crush has a crush on me, so maybe I was hoping," Eddie gives a shrug, aiming to sound indifferent and aloof, Steve thinks, but he can see the grin Eddie's trying to fight from forming on his face, and the way his hand has gone to his hair, pulling some strands to hide that grin behind.

Something sweet and happy spreads through Steve's entire body. Steve opens his mouth to say something, he's not sure, but what comes out instead is a big yawn.

"Alright, bedtime for you I think," Eddie says.

Steve nods, because he is tired. The rollercoaster of emotions and events have worn him down. "You wanna stay over and watch terrible movies until we fall asleep?"

Eddie looks delighted to have been asked.

Today was a shitshow, and Steve knows he'll need to reach out to everyone and talk. Individually, because he's not sure he can handle everyone all at once again. But he needs them to know he was just angry and doesn't hate them all or something.

Tomorrow's got promise, though, so that's good enough.

#steddie #in which i ask myself #what if steve has good parents #who care SO MUCH #and they got him a good therapist and helped him through the upside down shit #and they're only gone because steve begged them to leave #and the only thing that keeps them away is a nightly phone call letting them know everythings fine #to make this work in canon steve called his parents that night after finding eddie and lied to them #saying he was going camping with friends for a week so he wouldn't be calling until then #he hasnt told them the full truth of sping break '86 yet #my fic

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hogwartslegacyreactions2 · 9 months ago

Note

Hey, I'm pretty sure that this was asked before, but I can't find the post.

What if MC died in the repository instead of professor Fig?

(I'm sorry, but I'm in an angsty mood)

I love your posts, and thanks

A/N: I do have vague recollection of answering a similar prompt once upon a time, but nothing wrong with a reprisal!

HLC REACT TO MC DYING IN THE REPOSITORY

WARNING: angst, death, grief

Dark ancient magic flew violently through the air around MC. The whirlwind of human agony consumed them as they released silver blue light from their wand. The magic thrashed and roared as MC expelled more and more effort to contain the chaos. Cracks started to form along the length of their wand.

Time slowed for them. MC could see Fig's silhouette just beyond the veil. The hundreds of young souls above them weighed heavy on their conscience. If they can't do this, everyone will die. They had to use all of it.

MC closed their eyes and whispered their goodbye. A light even brighter than the one from their wand emerged from their chest. The ancient magic within them burst forth with the fury of dragonfire. The silver light merged with the darkness, and as quickly as it had appeared, the magic vanished.

MC was gone. Their broken wand was all that remained.

SEBASTIAN SALLOW: He has officially lost everything. After losing his uncle, Anne, Ominis, and MC all at once, he's cracking. They can't be gone. Not them. They were too powerful to just vanish. He just has to find them. Yes. That's what he needs to do. He leaves Hogwarts. He MUST find them. Then Anne will see. Then Ominis will know. What he did was worth it.

OMINIS GAUNT: He rarely speaks anymore. The silence in his life has become so oppressive it took his own voice. The good life he thought he had was nice while it lasted, but now it's all come apart. It's only a matter of time before he loses Anne too, and when that happens...he doesn't know what he's going to do with himself.

ANNE SALLOW: She doesn't know how to feel about MC's death. On the one hand, they were trying to be a good friend to her and her brother but on the other...they also enabled Sebastian in his treachery. She's so very tired of the pain. She just wants to go to sleep.

IMELDA REYES: Well, damn. Mc was the closest thing to a friend she had in years. Someone competitive but friendly and fun to have around. They could dish out as much sass as she could, and she respected them for it. She cries a little at the end of year feast.

NATSAI ONAI: She should have been there. She could've done something! Why didn't they tell her!? She would've had their back! She....she...she breaks down into sobs so intense, even her mother can't comfort her. Her best friend was dead. Her heart was shattered and it would never be whole again without MC.

GARRETH WEASLEY: What? No. Nonono. Not them. That's impossible. They couldn't be dead. They're too strong to be.... He's in denial all the way until the MC's memorial service at the end of year feast. Then he breaks down. A bit of his fire died with MC.

LEANDER PREWETT: He wasn't super close to them, but he was still quite fond of them. They were a real friend. He hopes they're at peace and raises a goblet in their honor.

AMIT THAKKAR: He feels cold and numb all at once when he hears the news that MC died in the attack. He'd grown to care about them. He cursed himself for not spending more time with them when they were around.

EVERETT CLOPTON: He and MC didn't talk much outside of flying class but he had liked them. It was a shame he didn't get to know them more. He doesn't feel like eating when the feast is presented.

POPPY SWEETING: She hadn't cried this much since she left her parents. She finally made a friend, and just like that, they were gone. She doesn't know if she could make another friend again if she wanted to. Was she just doomed to lose every human connection she made?

ELEAZAR FIG: He wholeheartedly and inconsolably blames himself. Even if this fate couldn't be avoided, why did they have to die so young? He can't stand to hear the words "ancient" and "magic" in the same sentence at the same time anymore. It sends him into a dissociative trauma spiral.

He finds MC's wand. It's snapped in the middle with bits of wood frayed outward like the very core of the wand exploded. The two pieces are held together by the slightest sliver of wood.

He retires from teaching at Hogwarts. He doesn't trust himself with the care of students anymore. He doesn't trust his own judgment. He's tortured every night by the survivor's guilt taunting him that he should have done more. He should have protected them. He shouldn't have let them go as far as they did. They weren't ready. They couldn't handle the power they were forced to control. It takes everything in him to not attempt to destroy the map room with the portraits of the Keepers. He just leaves.

But every once in a while... On quiet moonless nights.... When he sees MC's wand displayed with Miriam's, he hears a whisper. A quiet breathy whisper that he could swear on his life sounds like MC. He chalks it up to the fact that he could be going mad from grief, but it's still strikes him as strange... If he looked at the wand hard enough... He could swear he sees a blue glow...

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy reactions #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #anne sallow #imelda reyes #natsai onai #garreth weasley #leander prewett #amit thakkar #everett clopton #poppy sweeting #tw death #tw grief #angst

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neocrias · 2 months ago

Text

Two worlds apart

synopsis: After having some strange dreams about other dimensions, you take off on a journey to explore the nearby forest. What you hadn't expected was falling asleep next to a fairy circle and waking up to a very peculiar - and handsome - nymph close to you.

pairings: jun x reader

wc: 6k

aus: sweet as possible; star-crossed lovers

warnings: cursing; reader is referred to as a girl

Light...There's so much light. And a breeze, too. So soft, passing through your hair. Everything is so calm and apparentely good, but there's something missing and a strange feeling in your chest rises as you take a deep breath. Finally, a heat covers the light from where you laid, and all you can see is the pair of rosy cheeks, plump lips and a glowing skin hovering on top of you. That's when your heart fills up entirely: there's nothing to miss now. He's here.

You stand up in a hurry, feeling your heart pounding as a droplet of sweat runs down your temple. Your hand runs to your chest, sensing it rising and falling rapidly as you scan the dark room around you, getting each second more familiar with the well-known bedroom.

– Not this again… – You run your hands over your face, trying to recover from the fright that the dream so realistically gave you. An emptiness spreads through your body as quickly as the cold night and the small cottage seems smaller than it ever was. You look around, your eyes getting used to the darkness as the silhouettes of the furniture become clearer. – I need water.

You get up, looking for the simple kitchen beyond the walls of the small room. The ancient wood creaking under your feet as you tried vehemently to ignore the involuntary pain in your heart. Why do I always feel so bad after these dreams?

Why do I miss so much something that I don't know what is?

The water you were pouring into your glass almost overflows in the midst of your drowsiness and agitated state of mind, causing you to take a few steps back. Your head lifts again to the kitchen sink, looking beyond it and through the window that surrounded it. The impression of seeing a bright light amidst the darkness of the forest startles you for a few seconds, but the vision soon dissipates, leaving only a darkness too frightening to stare at for long. "Enough, this has to stop."

–And how's life as a reclusive hermit? – Ahrin, your best friend, asks over the phone, her voice slightly shaken by the audio.

– I don't know… I guess normal. – You answer, monotonously, popping another snack into your mouth as you absent-mindedly watch the TV on some uninteresting channel. – To tell you the truth, I've been having some strange dreams. I don't know if they're memories of when I used to come here as a child, but they always make me feel a bit sentimental.

– Girl… what if you're being haunted by your dead grandmother? What if she doesn't want you there? – Ahrin's voice is laced with humor and you let out a muffled laugh.

– I guess if my grandmother didn't want me here she wouldn't have left me this cottage in her will, would she? – You scoff, rolling your eyes.

– Yeah, so I think you're going crazy with the solitude and all the bush and forest around you. – She concludes. – “The Shining” ass type of thing. Please don't kill your wife and child.

– It's always so comforting to talk to you, Ahrin. – You ironize with a scoff. – I don't know… these dreams have been disturbing me too much, I always wake up with the feeling that something is missing. It's like I'm suffering. Ahrin, do you believe in…

But a loud noise suddenly interrupts you, making you look straight at the bookcase behind the television.

– Y/n…? Are you still there?

– I'll call you back, Ahrin. – You answer, hanging up. Getting up, you notice that a book from the last shelf has fallen onto the cottage's shag carpet, and you roll your eyes at yet another of the strange occurrences this house has provided you with.

Your life in the city used to be very stressful. The exhausting routine of working for a large company took all your time. And that's why, when your distant and reclusive grandmother passed away, leaving you the cottage where she had lived for most of her life as her only inheritance, you thought it was a great idea to take a few months off for yourself, quitting your job and living off small savings while taking some time to rebuild your life bit by bit.

However, life in isolation in the small cottage on the edge of the forest also had some stresses on a psychological level. At first, everything seemed perfect, but over time, constant signs began to terrify you: things falling, doors and windows opening and the repeated dreams - every night, they revealed themselves to you as something new, comforting you among the lights and breezes, until you spotted that mysterious figure with an undefined face and woke up, panting and with a feeling of enormous emptiness. Of course you tried to rationalize these events, but you couldn't help letting your superstitious mind take you to darker places, and at times you could swear you were being haunted by some kind of ghost or otherworldly creature.

Life without people was also a challenge: although you hated the crowded spaces of the city, and always refused to go out to big parties or restaurants full of people, being absolutely sure that you would love being able to be alone for a few months in the chalet, now this reality was turning against you, and the loneliness was starting to show. Talking to yourself was good, and a very common habit of yours, but sometimes you felt like you really needed someone by your side to listen to you, if only for a few moments. The loneliness was so widespread that last week you found an injured bird in your yard and didn't think twice about naming it, caring for it for days and crying tears when you had to return it to the wild. "I could have kept it a little longer."

Putting away your daydreams, you stood to pick up the book and return it to its original place, but something about the title startles you, giving you a very strange feeling: Fairies and Other Magical Beings, the letters say in spaced golden graphs across the thick green velvet cover.

As you looked at the book, a scene flashed through your mind.

– Grandma, what are fairies? – You asked as you looked curiously at the book on the top of the shelf. Your feet stretched as far as they could towards the curious artifact, but you still couldn't reach it.

– Ah, dear, fairies are very interesting creatures. They live in the forest and are very tiny. – Your grandmother's rough hand ran through your hair, messing it up a little. – But don't confuse them with the nymphs: they also live in the forest, but they are responsible for the elements of nature. There are the water nymphs, like the ondines, the air nymphs, like the sylphs…

– And the sylphs live in the forest behind your house! – You asked, excited by the subject.

– Of course they do. – Your grandmother's smile gradually grew, forming wrinkles around her eyes.

A shiver ran down your spine as you remembered this moment that had been stored in the back of your mind for so long. Your grandmother's smile, always a symbol of sweetness and affection for you, took on a sinister air of mystery as you remembered that day - as if she knew something you didn't, and was proud of it.

You shake the thoughts away, staring at the book in your hands for a while before opening it and scanning the chapters fiercely. Fairies. Sylphs. Elves. Elementals. Forests. Potions. Circles. Magic.

– Shit, am I being haunted by a… fairy?

– Okay, recap this for me, please… Do you think you have a fairy living with you? – Ahrin's voice resounded with laughter through the cell phone line.

– Yeah… A nymph, to be precise. – You answer, focused on carefully removing the fragrant apple pie from the oven. – They live in places like this, isolated forests. It's quite common, in fact, for people to see these apparitions in rural towns, really. Just google it.

– Yeah, yeah, it's all the same. Girl, are you okay? Do you want me to come and visit you? – Ahrin asks, starting to sound a little more worried and cautious. You roll your eyes at your friend's tone, knowing that you really were sounding a bit crazy with all that talk of magical creatures. For a few moments, you regret having told anyone about these daydreams: maybe you really were going mad because of the solitude in the cottage. Maybe that warm pie in your hands was another sign that you were crazy.

Thinking to yourself, you roll your eyes, frustrated at having let yourself go so far.

– Actually, there is a slight difference, but I won't bother you with that. – You finally reply. – I have to go, I'm busy in the kitchen.

With an “okay, bye” rather suspicious, Ahrin hangs up the call, and all that's left is the tortuous silence and the incredible smell of your baking. Tempted to eat the pie, you control yourself, leaving it cautiously on the small kitchen table.

– Now let's see if I'm right or going completely mad. – You whisper to yourself, staring at the pie with your arms crossed and a sudden, strange feeling that you're being watched.

Shrugging, you walk to the bedroom, ready to sort out some things on your laptop.

– No. fucking. way. – The words come slowly out of your mouth. – So it's true.

The half-empty pie tin stares at you with overwhelming irony. The leftover pieces of pie, cut in an imprecise and rounded way, no longer looked as tasty and lively as they did when they were first taken out of the oven: now, they looked almost stale. And absolutely devoured, in your own home, by someone who hadn't been you. But that was the least of it, of course.

You run to the bookshelf in the living room, placing your hands on the famous greenish book, endlessly searching through its pages without any kind of calm or order, almost making a few tears in the process.

“Fairies and nymphs usually accept gifts from humans, as long as they have been left willingly. Some of their favorites are baskets of fresh fruit, freshly-baked pies, pretty flowers or nectar juices. Be careful, though, because once a food or drink is touched by a magical creature, its fruitful and vital energy is taken away, and the food will no longer do anyone any good. Never consume the remains of a fairy or nymph.”

Your eyes go from the book to the rotten-looking pie, making you frown a little. You decide that the best thing you can do now is throw the pie away, being careful not to touch it any more than necessary.

Okay. Now you know what's been plaguing you for the last few months, but how do you stop it? How do you stop the dreams and get that crazy nymph out of your cottage?

“A good way to communicate with the fairies is to go to the places where they live: forests, fields and flowerbeds are good examples. Leaving offerings such as those mentioned above can arouse gratitude in these little creatures, thus guaranteeing you friends and companions who can help you when needed.”

– Good. – You sighed, dropping the book on the nearest table as you prepared in the kitchen to fill a basket with all the fruit, flowers and baked goods you could find in the little cottage. – Now I have to go into the middle of the forest to feed these creatures in exchange for a little peace. It's the height of it.

You looked up unconsciously, as if asking some greater force to help you. With the cloudy, cold weather outside, the urge to stay at home was great: but you had to do it. If it was going to guarantee you at least one peaceful night's sleep, without those strange dreams and the feeling of loss, then it was worth it.

A shiver ran down your spine as you surveyed the empty cottage one last time before closing the front door behind you.

The book, still open on the table, illustrated a very important last paragraph, which your haste had prevented you from reading:

“Be very careful with fairy circles. In dense woods or forests, it is common to find mushrooms planted in a circular shape, almost on purpose. These are actually powerful portals to the world of fairies and nymphs: and as tempting as it may seem to travel to another dimension, the ethereal world of nymphs holds far more magic than a human heart can bear. Never enter a fairy circle.”

You don't know exactly how many minutes have passed since you entered the dense forest, but the thin mist doesn't leave you much sunlight to guide you. It's the first time since you moved into the cottage that you've risked walking alone through the forest which, despite being isolated, still seemed full of dangers. You vaguely remembered walking among these same trees in early childhood, but you understood that a child's mind finds these natural mysteries much more enchanting than the troubled mind of a lonely young adult.

The cold wasn't tearing, but it was a little uncomfortable. The warmth permeated your skin without burning, but left an ominous reminder that it was all around you, and the air you inhaled went deep into your lungs.

You didn't have to go that far to deliver a basket to a bunch of hypothetical nymphs, but you wanted to make sure you wouldn't be bothered by any more strange beings - whatever they might be. So, when you reach a clearing after a long walk, you decide that's where you're going to stop and sit down to rest for a while.

– Okay, here are the fruits. – You grumble, holding out the basket to the empty space in front of you. – They're not very fresh, because it's not the season, but…

You shrug, feeling a sudden tiredness take over your body.

– Now, please, please, – you plead, putting your hands together in prayer. – Take these strange dreams away from me. I can't stand it any longer. There's something, here, – and your index finger travels to your chest, pressing lightly – that hurts every time I wake up.

But before you could complain any more about how uncomfortable it was, your eyes began to get heavier and heavier, along with your limbs. Of course, your rational side wouldn't let you sleep in the middle of the forest, but it didn't seem to be working, as if there was some kind of trance moving you towards it. Yes, leaning a little and lying down on the damp grass seemed the right thing to do. Naturally, that forest was calling you, and you could swear you heard a soft voice moaning some kind of deep incantation, guiding you as your eyes closed softly. And just like that, you fell asleep.

Without even realizing how many mushrooms surrounded you.

Light… lots of light. And sparkles through the light green trees, as if everything was shimmering. The slight rustle of leaves above you calmed you down. Everything seemed perfect, even the slight warmth of the sunlight above. It's when your eyes open a little wider that this light is dimmed, and all you can see are rosy cheeks and plump lips, hovering above you as your heartbeat increases.

"It's happening again, another one of those dreams that messes with me,” you think.

But as soon as you blink your eyes hard, hoping to wake up, you are faced with a new sight as soon as you open them wide: a pair of eyes. Brown. Dark. Deep under the light flutter of curious eyelashes.

You let out an exclamation of surprise and the air around you seems to speed up. The breeze, once calm, becomes desperate along with the pair of eyes above. The leaves around the clearing begin to fly around you and you finally sit down on the ground where you were lying before.

Your eyes search for the person you had never seen before, even though he appeared in all your dreams with his mysterious and unrevealed face. Your heart beats harder than ever and you bring one of your hands to your chest to try to stop the feeling that closes your throat.

But there was no one in the clearing apart from you - and, of course, the leaves flying wildly around you.

– I think she can see me. – A sweet, unsure voice practically whispers next to you, but there's no owner for that familiar yet distinctive sound.

– Stop being a coward, Jun. – A second voice joins the conversation, a little harsher. Your eyes scan the clearing, but there's no one there. A sense of dread runs through your body, chills running up your spine as you feel your head getting more and more airborne and your blood freezing.

– Who's there? – You take the initiative to ask, your voice shaking in the process. The flying of the leaves slows down for a few seconds, limiting itself to a few smoother glides.

– I don't think she can see us now. – The same second voice comments, and you quickly turn in the direction you felt the sound come from. To your surprise, the sudden movement of your torso brings you face to face with a new sight: a man.

You almost scream with shock, but something inside you stops you, and you find yourself completely dazzled by the sight: a young man with fine features, platinum hair and flowing white clothes was watching you carefully, leaning over your figure as you sat on the ground. Your eyes met and you finally understood. It was him. The boy who appeared in your dreams.

The rosy cheeks, the lips. It was all recognizable to you. His face was centimeters apart, but you couldn't feel his breath on you, and for a few seconds it seemed too unreal. Almost as if it was just that - a dream. Translucent and bright.

His eyes flickered in your direction a few times, but you just watched him in silence. For some reason, the apparition didn't disconcert you: on the contrary, you felt calmer than you had in months. Your heart still beats heavily, and something like nervousness didn't leave your chest. Something inside you told you that this was an important moment, but you didn't understand why.

– Who are you?

– You shouldn't be here.

You say in unison. The boy hesitates a little, unsure, and it's almost as if he's afraid to address you.

You look around. The leaves in the clearing have stopped fluttering and the wind no longer blows hard. Now, only a light breeze hung around, caressing your cheeks and hair.

– Where am I? – You asked emphatically, looking out at the unusually bright and ethereal clearing.

– In the realm of the fairies. A place highly unsuitable for humans. – The same harsh voice you heard earlier utters, and a dark figure beside you catches your eye, making you turn to face the new person in the clearing.

Another young man materialized in front of you. This one, also with delicate and beautiful features, but dressed entirely in black, with sharper eyes and a wry smile on his face. You feel like you know him, but you've never seen him before.

– We need to take you back. – The one in front of you says again, in a disappointed tone.

– So you're the ones living in my house? – You ask acquisitively and the two young men exchange guilty glances. The one in white arches his eyebrows, but the one in black just shrugs, unconcerned.

– You're the one who took me there, so… – The black one says, nonchalantly. – And Jun is just plain stupid.

– Sicheng… – The one in white warns, reproaching him.

– Jun… – The other imitates his tone, mocking his friend.

– Jun? – The name escapes your lips before you can think, and it sounds like a question. For a second, the name seemed strangely familiar, but now you couldn't understand where the knowledge came from.

– That'd be me. – He replies, gently, giving you a cautious smile. The young man extends his hand towards you and you accept it. As soon as your hands touch, a warmth spreads through your body and a shiver runs down your spine. There is no roughness in Jun's hand, and his touch is so soft that you hardly feel it.

You finally stand up, coming face to face with the boy. It's only then that you notice a subtle movement behind Jun's back, and you lean a little to see what it is.

Wings. Yes, he's a fairy.

– Air nymph. – Sicheng interrupts your thoughts, waving one of his hands in front of you to snap you out of your trance. – There is a difference.

You're startled - especially at the possibility of that strange being reading your thoughts.

– Sorry, it's involuntary. – He explains himself, again interfering in your thinking. – And also hella funny. – Jun arches his eyebrows at him, incredulous and impatient.

– Let's get you out of here. – Jun gently changes the subject. – Don't worry about him.

– Why do you appear in my dreams? – You pluck up the courage to ask. You didn't want to leave without answers.

Jun's eyes widen and an expression of surprise takes over his face. Sicheng follows him, looking extremely curious about the situation.

– For God's sake, Jun… What have you done? – Sicheng asked, turning to his alleged friend. Your eyes turn to the two boys alternately, trying to get some clue as to what was going on - and what they didn't want to tell you.

– What are you talking about? You were the first to interact directly with her! A human. – And Jun's tone was a mixture of accusation and forced contempt, trying to reproach Sicheng, who was unfazed.

– In my defense, it was her who interacted directly with me.

– I didn't do any of that! – You defend yourself, seeing the two pairs of dark eyes turn in your direction. Sicheng grinned mischievously arching one eyebrow in your direction.

– Are you sure about that, cutie? – He asks, crossing his arms over his chest. You don't lose confidence, but you begin to wonder if you haven't actually interacted with a fairy in recent months, even indirectly.

And only then, paying attention to Sicheng's smug posture, do you realize that he doesn't have a pair of translucent wings floating behind him.

So he's not a nymph…?

– Touché. – He jokes before you can vocalize your feelings. The boy then uncrosses his arms, tilting his head a little before surrounding himself in a black smoke that gradually grew around him. From head to toe, feathers appear on his body as his form shrinks in size.

The transformation before your eyes makes you open your mouth in shock, but it all starts to make a little more sense when the man in front of you takes the form of a bird. And not just any bird: the crow you helped recover from an injury weeks ago.

Sicheng, in his bird form, displays some of his feathers ironically, and you finally understand the familiarity you felt towards him before. A feeling of naivety passes through you, unsettling you a little.

The little crow bends down towards you and, as his last act of cockiness, he takes off into the forest, without waiting for your reaction to his big revelation.

– Show-off. – Jun complains, watching the bird fly away.

– So, what do I do to stop you from haunting my house? – You ask, now alone with the nymph Jun. He turns, giving you a slightly affected look.

– That won't happen again. – He mutters and you can see a slight blush rising to his cheeks. – Now I'm going to get you out of here, come on. I'll explain on the way.

You shrug, and although it didn't seem like the safest thing in the world to walk behind a nymph through a strange, shimmering version of the forest you knew, there didn't seem to be many other options either.

– How did I end up here? – You begin, after a few seconds of silence. Your incessant questions didn't seem to affect Jun, who remained patient and focused on the trail in front of him.

– The fairy circle. – He replied, unapproachable. – The wheel-shaped mushrooms, basically.

– Ah… – You start to remember some of the blurs and how a sudden sleepiness came over you when you entered that part of the forest. – And can't we go back and get out?

– The entrance door is not the same as the exit in the fairy world. –Jun turns and smiles sideways.

Your heart squeezes at the nymph's smile, but you don't understand why. It was the same feeling as always with all those dreams, and you feel the urge to keep asking him questions until you finally understand what strange connection you had with him, or what kind of spell he was putting on you.

You are stopped, however, when you notice the familiarity of the place around you. A small stone path, a garden neatly planted under the blue sky and not interrupted by the green of the dense forest that surrounded it: this was it! Your house! The cottage!

As much as the idea of getting out of that world excited you, something dark flashed across your face in a matter of seconds: if you got home now, you would never have the answer to your questions, and you would never be able to confront Jun about his constant appearances in your dreams.

– We're here. – You exclaim dejectedly. Squinting your eyes slightly, the cottage seems strange. The colors are more vibrant, the paint chips that had faded at the edges of the wooden walls were now impeccably painted, the vines that used to climb up around the house were no longer there, and a soft yellow light was coming from inside the cottage, which emitted a thin smoke from the chimney that you were sure you hadn't left on.

– The fairy world is a parallel dimension to the human world. – Jun begins to explain as he notices your strangeness. – Many things are very similar, even the same, but they are just deformed projections of what you have. They are irreconcilable. – He lowers his head slightly, hiding his face so that you don't see him, but you notice his sad countenance.

– It's strange… Why do I feel like we've already met? – You have the urge to touch him, and the words are out of your mouth before you know it. Jun arches an eyebrow in your direction, waiting for some explanation of what you've just said, but nothing comes. Even you don't understand what's going through your head, and maybe that's just the effect of the shimmering translucence of this perfect, complicated world.

– I've been to your cottage a few times. – He begins, looking embarrassed. Jun takes the lead, walking to go around the house and continue on your way. – It's subtle, but sometimes what we do here in our world can affect yours a little, and vice versa.

– So you were the one who knocked things over! – You exclaim excitedly, picking up your pace to walk alongside Jun. Strangely enough, even the nymph's gait was light, and he often moved and you could barely notice much effort on his part, as if he barely weighted anything.

A shy smile grows on his lips, and he tries yet once again to hide his face from you in a shy manner. Jun scratches the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable at having been caught, but you're willing to find out more. You lean in his direction, trying to get a glance of his eyes, but Jun just suddenly stops in his tracks, almost bumping into you at the sudden proximity. Looking right into his eyes, and standing so close to the nymph, a strange sensation passes through you, and it's as if you've overlapped the image of a much younger Jun in front of you.

You blink, trying to dispel the strange image, and all that remains are the familiar features of the boy in front of you. A shiver runs down your spine, and suddenly you feel an absolute but unfounded certainty that this was not your first time in the fairy world.

Jun lets out a mirthless laugh, having no idea what had been going on in your mind for the last second, and turns away from you, keeping walking smoothly and determinedly through the bright forest.

– Speaking of which, that pie was great. – The boy murmurs, almost inaudibly, but you hear perfectly. His lips move into a smile, which precedes a laugh.

–I knew I wasn't going crazy! – Jun follows your laughter, seemingly amused by your reaction. – How can you touch things from the human world?

You're curious again, and this time Jun seems a little more willing to answer you.

– As I said, the things here are copies of your world. – He shrugs his shoulders. – If you have a pie there, the pie appears here, especially if you make it with the intention of giving it to a nymph. It takes a bit of energy on our part, but we can access your world a little more easily than the other way around.

You make a sound of confirmation, understanding a little about the boy's explanation.

– Can you… watch us? – You ask, curious. Jun blushes at the implication of your speech, and nods slightly. His confirmation also makes you a little shy, and you begin to wonder how much Jun has seen of you in your daily affairs.

– I didn't mean to scare you. – Jun begins, sounding apologetic. – With the things falling and all. I guess I just ended up being a bit too curious, and clumsy too. I'm sorry.

He lets out a shy laugh and you follow him.

– No problem. – You raise your arm and lightly touch the boy's hand in a gesture of consolation. The touch sends shivers through your body when you come into contact with Jun's soft, delicate skin. Again, an image flashes through your head, along with a very strong sense of longing and tenderness.

All of a sudden, you realize that you can't leave the fairies' world. At least not without the answers you seek.

Jun seems to feel something similar, and slowly walks away, watching your facial expression with his eyes, searching for anything different. He tries to act normal, but it's clear that the spark between the two of you has reached him too, in ways you can't understand.

– Why do I dream about you, Jun? – You ask almost in a whisper. The trees around you have become denser along the way without you noticing, and now the world around you seems darker than it has ever been. The pronunciation of his name on your lips affected him, and you can tell by his wide eyes. The nymph stops in front of you and seems to question whether or not he should answer your question. He hesitates a few times, opening his mouth to speak and then closing it.

A soft breeze circulates, and you feel a little calmer. However, this doesn't stop your heart from beating uncontrollably fast. A dark shadow passes across the sky, startling you and Jun, who swallows dryly.

– I don't know much about human dreams. – He replies at last, focused on looking at the sky.

You realize he's lying, and are ready to question him once again when the same dark shadow passes over you, stopping behind Jun at an impressive speed, transforming into the human version of Sicheng you had met earlier and interrupting the conversation.

– I see you've finally arrived. – Sicheng explains, stopping beside Jun with his calculated gait, but not at all as light and subtle as the nymph's. – The portal to go back.

You squint your eyes, trying to understand what is so special about that dark part of the forest. Sicheng notices your gaze, and moves a little away from the two of you to show you with a wave of his arm something behind the dark trees in a clearing that had gone unnoticed by you.

Tombstones. Rocks. Stone angels. A cemetery.

The image wouldn't terrify you so much in the world you come from, but something about seeing that place right there, hidden in the middle of the forest, surrounded by such a sparkling and beautiful reality was unsettling on an inexplicable level. The pounding in your heart became a strong squeeze and a pain that you couldn't tell where it was coming from.

– A source of life as a gateway. – Sicheng explains. - And a den of death as the exit door. – He clicks his tongue, seemingly displeased by the morbidity of the place.

But you weren't ready to leave yet. You needed to understand what it was you had been feeling for so many months. You needed more time with Jun. You needed to see him and feel again that strange sensation that had been troubling you. You couldn't leave without understanding him.

Why was his presence so familiar? Why did his smile hurt you? Why did your heart beat so fast when he approached? What were you feeling?

– When a nymph loves a human, that person is condemned to a deep connection with them. – Sicheng said, without looking anywhere in particular. – Come on, it's time she knew.

– Sicheng, don't… – Jun warns, and for the first time his voice sounds less soft and more serious.

But the shapeshifter doesn't listen to his colleague and comes dangerously close to you.

– Thoughts, strange physical responses, dreams… – He lists, searching your eyes for every reaction. – That tightness in your chest, you know? All courtesy of our loverboy here. – He points at Jun, who knits his eyebrows together, disturbed.

Your gaze alternates between the two boys, and now they seem a little taller than before. Without you noticing his approach, Sicheng appears at your side and pushes you. He doesn't use enough force to knock you down, but only to make you unbalanced, tumbling to the side and finally into the gloomy clearing of the cemetery.

Just as you stabilize yourself, you're invaded by a sharp headache. The last thing you see around you is the despair in Jun's eyes before the memories flood back.

– My grandmother told me about you… You're a fairy! Look at your wings!

– I'm a nymph, to be precise.

– Ah, it's all the same!

– Actually, there is a slight difference, but I won't bother you with that…

Jun's smile lit up the clearing, and the cemetery no longer seemed as sinister as when you had accidentally wandered into it.

It turns out that childhood comes with a gift: curiosity. And spending the vacations at your grandmother's cottage on the edge of the forest after hearing thousands of stories about magical creatures definitely helped to feed it. When you got lost, you cried desperately, but you didn't expect another boy to appear: a boy with wings and a kind smile.

– Can we be friends? – You asked, raising your pinky finger towards Jun. He didn't seem to understand exactly what you meant, so you gently brought his hand up to yours, showing him how to cross fingers together. – There, now we'll be friends forever!

The memory causes a tear to involuntarily run down his cheek, and Jun seems to understand exactly what was going through your head, because his gaze goes exactly to the gravestone where you first met, more than ten years ago.

But that wasn't the only memory that flashed before his eyes.

– And then he broke up with me! – You finished explaining the story to Jun, who nodded calmly. You hid your head a little more between Jun's outstretched legs in the forest grass, feeling him stroke your hair with the greatest delicacy in the world while you tried to hide the tears forming in your eyes from him.

Jun placed his hand lightly on your cheek, turning your face so that you were facing him. Lying there on the grass, watching Jun above you and the blue sky that hung imposingly above him, none of your problems in the human world seemed to matter. Only he mattered, and now you understood why, at sixteen, every boyfriend you'd ever had had dumped you: you only had eyes for one.

The nymph leans over you, and the warm touch of the sun is overshadowed by Jun's equally warm closeness. You felt a refreshing breeze around you both, and some fallen leaves circled you in a slow dance in the wind before Jun's lips finally touched yours, transforming the whole world you had known until then into something new and far more beautiful.

The crying was now more aggressive, and you were sobbing. Your hands went to your lips, unable to bear the weight of the memory. In the midst of your confusion, Jun had approached you unbeknownst to you, and rested both hands on your cheeks, wrapping them around it tenderly.

– How could I have forgotten you after so many years? – The thought tortured you. There were so many memories with Jun, at so many different stages of your life, that now it finally made sense to feel the absolute emptiness you had felt over the last few months.

A large part of your life had been erased, but not your love for him.

Jun brought your bodies closer, sticking your foreheads together while he breathed irregularly, his eyes closed. You enjoyed the closeness for a few moments, trying to force your mind never to forget that moment, even though it already seemed to slip through your fingers like sand.

Finally, the nymph sighed deeply and brought your lips together with a ferocity that was unlike his usual delicacy. It was a desperate, thirsty, longing kiss. If you hadn't remembered Jun for all those years, and had still suffered his absence, you couldn't even bear to think how much Jun had had to be alone with the memories of both of you. His hands wrapped around your waist, gluing your bodies together in sync. Your hands squeezed the back of Jun's neck tightly, as if he was going to disappear in that instant and you needed to prevent him from doing it so.

The kiss was something new for you, but at the same time it was painfully familiar, and you could taste his tears between the two of you. Jun finally separated them, still holding you close, squeezing you for fear that you would leave.

– I missed you so much.

– So why did you let me go? Why did you make me forget you?

– I didn't… I…

– Humans and nymphs can't be together, Y/n… – Sicheng interrupted, also entering the cemetery. His words didn't say anything absurd, but you felt them like a knife in your chest.

It didn't matter. It would be different with you two. You and Jun could work together: you were born for each other.

A rebellious feeling overwhelmed you, and you knew that now that you finally had your love back, you wouldn't give it up.

But Jun's taciturn gaze, which never left his face, was affected by his friend's harsh words. You felt that he didn't think the same way as you, and that killed you inside.

– I had to do it. – He whispered so that only you could hear. – I couldn't take you out of your world, and I didn't want you to suffer… The distance helped, but when I realized that you'd gone back to the cottage, and were now living there… I couldn't keep my distance any longer. I was wrong and selfish. I never imagined that you would dream of me.

– No, I don't mind. – You exclaim, full of fervor. Deep down, there's a small part of you that understands that this was the best thing to do for both of you, but you didn't want to let him go for anything, especially not after spending so many years without Jun. – I'm not going back. I want to stay with you.

But Jun just held your trembling hand into his, gently bringing it to his lips and placing a chaste kiss there, without taking his eyes off yours.

– I'll leave you two alone. You know what you have to do. – You heard Sicheng's voice behind Jun, and the young man suddenly turned into a crow, flying away.

– Please. – You beg, letting the tears run free down your cheeks. Jun's grip on your hand tightens and his eyebrows draw together in an expression of deep pain. The nymph nods quietly, very subtly, and you feel your heart grow lighter.

– I love you. – Jun says in an incisive whisper, meeting your eyes in reaffirmation. He moves closer again, planting a kiss on your lips that is much calmer and more restrained than the last one, lingering for a few seconds next to you. – And I need you to live.

A push on your shoulder shoves you away, and you feel yourself fall. Your eyes widen as you take one last look at Jun, noticing the bright tears falling from his eyes, a mixture of guilt and pain

And then, darkness.

Light… there's a lot of light. An uncomfortable, painful, cold light.

– Oh my God! – A voice exclaims as you open your eyes with difficulty, feeling your whole body ache. – She's here!

Sounds of leaves rustling on the ground and flying through the air in a spiral around you wake you up, and the pain of the recent farewell attacks you again.

Two hands find you, gently holding your shoulders. For a few seconds, your heart stops beating in futile hope. When you look ahead, however, it is Ahrin's face that stares back at you in shock.

Your friend begins to cry, hugging you tightly. She drops the lantern she was holding to the ground, leaving the forest around you dark again, but not dark enough for you not to notice the circle of mushrooms surrounding you. The darkness, however, doesn't last long, and many other lantern lights appear, with hooded people approaching the two of you in the midst of the storm that was wetting everything around you.

– What are you doing here? How did you get here so quickly? Who are these people? – You ask, still holding your best friend who is bursting into tears.

– Quickly? Y/n, I haven't been able to talk to you for over two months. You've disappeared.

Your alleged disappearance into the human world had caused quite a stir. Although you had spent little less than a day in the fairy world, time had flown by much faster in your world, and it was only then that you understood why Jun had made such a point of keeping you away, even if it hurt both of you.

Living with him would mean giving up everything you've known so far - which you would do, for him - but God only knows what long-term effects the fairy world would have on a human. At least those were the thoughts that comforted you when you remembered Jun.

Since then, you've never dreamt of him again. Even if you wanted to, and even if you tried. You were afraid of forgetting him again, so you tried to communicate in every way.

– Fine, we'll try again tomorrow… – You huffed, letting your shoulders slump in disappointment as you looked at the dining room table. The apple pie seemed to stare back at you, completely untouched.

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cushfuddled · 1 month ago

Text

When I first started shoveling Jayvik fanfic into my mouth a month and a half ago, I was shocked and delighted at the avalanche buffet of top Viktor and dom Viktor content. But I've started to feel like the detective who kneels down and touches some footprints in the dirt like, "Something happened here..."

Because I can't remember the last time I saw a fanon concept become...so ubiquitous? Even in fics where Viktor bottoms, he's a power bottom/topping from the bottom. Spotting a fic with an overwhelmed sub bottom Vik in the Ao3 tag feels a bit like the moment a snow leopard graces your Himalayan trail cam.

I DO NOT mean to suggest anyone "should" write more inexperienced/bottom/sub Viktor! It's just...as someone who likely missed whatever ancient discourse might've plagued the Arcane fandom years hence, I've been through this fandom song and dance enough times to recognize the smell of...what say, capital-O Obligation.

I just want people to know they can write whatever kind of fanfic they want. That's the point of this post. I hope someone somewhere reads this and feels emboldened to let loose/goof off/get freaky/whatever.

Because I can see why people would feel Obligated to portray Viktor as a top/dom/the sexually experienced one. He's physically disabled and chronically ill. Ableism so often takes the form of paternalism and infantilization. There's this pervasive notion that disabled people don't have sex. People think we're too "pure" for sex, or assume we're "undesirable" as romantic partners/that our physical or mental disabilities would make sex impossible. With that cultural context, it's a radical act for so many people to come together and choose to portray Viktor—a disabled, terminally ill man who struggles with suicide ideation—as a sexually experienced top.

One of the hardest things about being disabled/ill is the lack of control. You can't plan for the future; you don't know whether your pain levels will be better tomorrow or demand another trip to the ER; your life is totally in the hands of overworked doctors who don't care about you. So it feels kind of like an act of reclamation to put Viktor in a dominant position. In a safe, sane, consensual arrangement, all parties have control over the situation, but with topping and/or domming comes the Role of authority/power. Making Viktor an experienced, sly top/dom gives back Viktor's autonomy and agency.

So yeah. I get why this trend is pervasive within the fandom! It's fantastically subversive. I just hope nobody feels like they HAVE to fall into this dynamic.

I remember a Tumblr post from years ago where someone described the drawbacks of a supposedly "feminist retelling" of Cinderella or Sleeping Beauty, wherein the heroin saves herself by her own strength and wits. This, I would argue, is a perfectly fine story to tell...but its lack of intersectionality betrays a shallow definition of feminism. In casting those retold fairy tales in a feminist, "empowering" light, one ignores the realities of the people who found escapism in those helpless damsels.

In a paradoxical way, when my MCAS knocked me flat on my ass for two years, I was always out of control of my life AND forced to take control all the time. All those overworked, traumatized, apathetic doctors meant I had to be my own patient advocate. I had to do my own research; figure out which treatment plans made the most sense; find doctors who took my insurance and could see me within six months; argue with Medicaid when they didn't want to pay for one of the drugs I'd been prescribed; find new and creative ways to feed myself when my body reacted like it was allergic to everything other than water and Cheerios. And god, I had to self-police myself all the time. At the doctor's office, you have to look sick enough that they believe you when you say you're hurting, but you don't want to seem TOO sick because the desperation will make the doctor diagnose you with "hysterical woman" (or they'll just assume you're fishing for drugs). At home, you want to project some amount of strength so you don't worry your loved ones or make yourself too much of a "burden." (You also don't want to have to manage other people's anxiety on top of your own.) My disability (autism) and chronic illness (MCAS) are invisible, but I imagine there's a lot of masking that goes into navigating public spaces with a visible disability/illness, too.

So...when everything's this constant battle for control—when you're forced to project strength every day regardless of your pain level—of course some people are going to find relief in stories where they're allowed to shut down. I think it's important to let disabled characters be vulnerable and overwhelmed and even dependent on someone else, because as often as disabled and chronically ill people are infantalized, so too are we expected to "overcome" our disabilities/illnesses through miracles of resilience and cunning. We're pushed to perform strength, cheer, and "normalcy" for the public, who find our disabilities "sad" and "uncomfortable." Every time someone refuses to put on a mask, or a relative tells us to simply get more exercise, or a politician rails against "wellfare queens," or a bus route gets cut or a bench gets removed or our doctors hand-wave our symptoms, our world reinforces the message that we are Too Much; that our needs are exorbitant, our very existence a drain on society. So many of us throw ourselves into self-sabotaging grasps at independence. We work ourselves far past our limits to prove we aren't a burden on society. We refuse help just to maintain that tiny sense of control over our lives.

I find it deeply comforting to read stories where ill and disabled characters are...allowed to be helpless, I guess. To break the fuck down and let someone else finally take the reigns for a while—to lift some of that burden off their shoulders. I love when ill and disabled characters trust someone enough to take off that heavy armor, revealing the pain and weakness beneath the facade they were forced to take up to survive, and are rewarded with warmth and reassurance and care.

At a certain point...is it not a little ableist in itself, to restrict a disabled, chronically ill character to one specific role? To essentially lock them out of a position where they're allowed to relinquish control and be taken care of?

In essence,

Disabled and chronically/terminally ill people are not a monolith. As I always say, what offends one person will uplift another. It's an uncomfortable reality, but there's really no such thing as perfect representation. I think part of intersectionality is being willing to accept that multiple things can be true at once, because everyone's lived reality is different. It's absolutely fine to prefer one trope over another. But if I find a fanfic offensive or uncomfortable, I can always click the back button with the knowledge that there's almost certainly someone out there who'll find that same so-called problematic content empowering. Whether fic writers prefer top Viktor, power bottom Viktor, bottom Viktor, switch Viktor, sub Viktor, dom Viktor, experienced Viktor, virgin Viktor, omega vs. alpha Viktor, and every niche in between...I just hope they go where their heart tells them and write what they want.

#jayvik #long post #this has been whirling around in my head and I needed to get it out 'on paper'

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queer-overwatch · 9 months ago

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Hi!! Could I request maybe a Venture x Reader (Any pronouns will do) on like a museum date? I want Venture to yap.Please and Thank you. ( Also bless the both of you I needed more Venture content I was tweaking without them)

Venture at a Museum!

Aaa ty sm for the request!!! I love that idea so much- they are such a yapper I love them <3 also your welcome hehe, had to take thing into our own hands >:3 (also bc u didn't request a specific format (like hcs or oneshot) i just did a short lil oneshot, hope thats okay!) -Frisk

══════ஜ▲ஜ══════

"Look, look- they have a whole section on rocks! Kinda basic selection but it's still rocks!"

You never thought you'd be able to learn so much about rocks in one day, but it seemed like Venture had made it their personal mission to force as much information into your brain as possible. You didn't mind, really! It was always nice listening to them rant about all the cool stuff they found while walking around the museum you'd planned to bring them to, but it was a lot to take in at once.

"Augh, I love sedimentary rocks- they're my favorite! 'cuz sometimes they have like, little fossils in them and I'm like, "Woah! A cool thing in another cool thing!" and it's awesome! One time I found a trilobite fossil in a rock, it was so cool! I wonder if they have any here- that'd be so amazing! I wonder what they taste like-"

After spilling every single fact they could think of about the rocks on display, Venture drags you to a section of the museum dedicated to Egyptian history, though they mostly just seemed interested in the architecture of the pyramids. You really did try to listen, but you mostly just caught the gist of their long, long, long explanations- something about a Mastaba being like a sort of prototype to pyramids? You were just happy to see them so excited, even if you didn't quite understand what they were so hyped about.

"Oh, if only that British lady could go back to ancient Egypt and get the architects of their time to answer my questions! I'd give anything to be able to do that!" Sensing the slight disappointment creeping up on them, you decide to try and bring Venture elsewhere, not wanting them to spend any energy on being upset by what they can't do.

"Why don't we go look at the dinosaur fossils? I'm sure there's some mistakes in the descriptions that you can correct!" You take their hand, gently pulling them away from the long essay-like description of images of the pyramids that they were reading. Incising them with promises of being able to show off their intensive knowledge of dinosaur fossils, or fossils in general.

Venture perked up almost immediately, following behind you as they ready themselves to go on and on about their favorite dinosaur ever, the Deinocheirus! You tried to ask why it was their favorite ones, and all they said was something about it being "them fr fr" and having rocks in its stomach. You weren't too keen on questioning that one.

They take a large step so they're walking next to you, swinging your arms as you walk, "It's always been one of my biggest goals to find a dinosaur fossil! I really hope I do one day, if I did I could die happy!"

"Please don't die- I would be so sad if you died." You squeeze their hand, voice light as you joke with them.

"Aw but I wanna! I wanna be a fossil for future people like me to discover! When I do die I wanna be buried with a bunch of cool stuff! Maybe mess around with my bones a little, just to throw 'em off!" As you finally reach the fossil exhibits, they abandon you to run off and check over every. single. fossil. which while endearing, gave you a lot of running to do in an attempt to catch up.

"Finally! For once a museum that gets everything right! Well, everything as far as we know-" They stand next to one of the larger fossils, not anything you recognized as you take your place next to them, catching your breath.

"Wow, how impressive-" you wheeze, standing up straight and stretching out your legs as you link arms with Venture, trying to stop them from running off on you again.

They laugh, grabbing you by the shoulder and dragging you in the tightest hug you've ever received.

"Thank you, so, so, so much for planning this. And for listening to me talk about rocks so much, and for caring about me- and a million other things! I can't even remember everything you've done for me, but I know its a lot!" They let you go, still holding you by the shoulders, the biggest smile you've ever seen on a person splayed across their face.

"Of course-! I love spending time with you, you're well aware of that, silly." You laugh, grabbing their wrists and taking their hands off your shoulders, holding their hands as you admire the glow of excitement on their face.

"Welllll since you clearly don't mind, can we go to this other museum I found online next week?! I heard they have an area where you get to watch an hour long video on the story of Julius Caesar!"

#venture #overwatch venture #venture x reader #venture overwatch #overwatch x reader #sloane cameron #if i made any mistakes anywhere please tell me-#im a lil stupid #Xornk

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deathbxnny · 2 years ago

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So we basically know from the game lore that jingyuan, blade and dan heng are like, ancient asf so what about how they'd be with an s/o, crush, love interest whatever who's the reincarnation of their past lover? Like the s/o doesn't remember them or their past lives but is still friendly and nice just confused on why this guy is pining after them lol how'd they go about wining them over?

-----♡

A/N: Hello! Thank you so much for the beautiful request! I absolutely love this idea!<33

Content: Fluff, mutual pinning(kinda), reincarnation troupe, a tiny bit of angst, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns!

((Not fully proofread!))

-----♡

》Jing Yuan

Is very upfront with his emotions, when courting you. He knows what you like and what to do to make you like him, so he'll definitely have you again in no time. With that said, he was delighted to see you again after so long. Ofcourse, he feels a pinch of sadness in his heart, yet quickly replaces it with the excitement of potentially making new memories with you in this lifetime again.

You're a little hesitant at first though, as you're a little baffled as to why such an important man like him was interested in you. But you still were intrigued by him and decided to give him a chance, which he knew you would. You were never able to resist his charms after all.

Will absolutely spoil you with everything he has. You can as much as glance at something and suddenly have it delivered to your door the next day by your dear General. He also takes you on luxurious outings, smiling in delight when he sees you smile and enjoy yourself.

He's just glad to spend time with you again and vows to protect you with his life once more, when you two finally get together.

-----♡

》Blade

He was honestly close to not approaching you, thinking he didn't deserve you anymore after what he had become. Yet he couldn't help himself, when you bumped into him and gave him the beautiful smile he missed more than anything in this world.

He'll be more slow with his approach, worried that he might intimidate or scare you off, if he's too fast or passionate. Will give you simple, yet meaningful gifts that he knows you'll like. It warms his heart to see you get so excited and happy about them too, even if they aren't anything special.

He takes you out on simple dates, always making sure you're okay with everything he does with you and that you'll have a great and fun time. Seeing you so calm and happy with him around heals a part of his broken soul. You always had that effect on him.

Is grateful to be your lover once more when the time comes and makes sure you know that. Spending time with you again is worth all the pain he suffered through and he'll value it for as long as it lasts.

-----♡

》Dan Heng

He was so surprised and even taken aback, when he saw you again. He was also hesitant to approach you, as you belonged to a past he wanted to forget. And yet, he couldn't stop his endless feelings returning for you. Therefore he decided to pursue you again and makes things right this time.

He takes his time with you, making sure you have feelings for him too, before he says anything about his. He always seeks you out during missions or breaks, always keeping you close one way or another.

He gifts you things he knew you would like, telling you that they reminded him of you. Watching your eyes light up and your face flush at his heartfelt words made it all so worth it.

Is so thankful, when you agree to be his lover once more. He holds you close, his heart thumping with excitement as he gives you a rare smile. He's glad, to have a chance at a better future with you now.

-----♡

A/N: Thank you again for this cute idea! I hope, it was okay!<3

#honkai star rail fanfic #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x you #hsr x reader #hsr blade #hsr blade x reader #hsr jing yuan #hsr jing yuan x reader #hsr dan heng #hsr dan heng x reader

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ckret2 · 3 months ago

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So what happens if You're Athiest? Is it like a ping pong depending on what you did? Or is it more like you choose which judicial system or oblivion. Which does that even count as a belief if you believe in oblivion???

(For context for anyone who missed it, we're talking about this headcanon post, this isn't an actual religious discussion.)

We know, for a fact, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that ghosts exist in Gravity Falls. Let's start with that. This is a universe where, all other matters of theology being up in the air, the existence of the soul and of continued existence after death is Canonically Confirmed And Real.

And so, souls & life after death being confirmably real—they continue to be real whether you believe in them or not.

We don't know much about the afterlife-afterlife in Gravity Falls beyond what little bits we get from Bill. We know he's been to hell and gotten kicked out, and he claims "heaven" is a dimension where you get everything you want. The soul contract on TINAWDC lists "heaven, hell, purgator[y?], big corner, flow state, the dream house, the reincarnation processing center, axolotl’s tank, and consequences hole" as some (but not all) possible afterlives. The Theraprism appears to be an afterlife (Bill shows up there after getting killed, leaving his corpse behind, and he'll remain there until he can reincarnate; and since it's literally located inside a mind, it might be located in the mindscape).

But, while we might not know much about afterlives: we do know afterlives exist.

In most human religions, you go to an afterlife whether you believe in it or not. Believers tend to believe that all humans go to This One Afterlife (or One Of These Available Afterlives Depending On What You Did). Most Christians don't think you can opt out of heaven/hell if you're an atheist. Buddhists don't think you're excused from participating in samsara if you don't think it's real. I doubt the ancient Egyptians believed you'd be pardoned from having your heart weighed if you told Anubis you thought he was imaginary.

You'd be hard-pressed to find afterlife beliefs where what you believe in matters to what afterlife you go to—except in cases where you're rewarded for believing the right thing and punished for believing the wrong thing.

So I am assuming that, if we're talking about a setting where afterlives are canonically real, that's how they operate:

Nobody's setting up afterlives to accommodate the beliefs of people who are wrong about whether souls & afterlives exist

you're subject to an afterlife whether you think it's real or not.

In light of all that, I don't think getting sent to a particular afterlife has to do with belief; I think it has to do with bureaucracy.

If you are born, you are probably the citizen of a country. You didn't ask to be. You didn't consent to being a citizen. But you are one anyway. The government you had no say in and don't even know exists yet decided you belong to them. If you don't agree to be their citizen, tough titties. You were born on the property they've decided is theirs, and/or they consider your parents citizens; so they consider you a citizen too. When you become an adult, they'll ask you to pay taxes to them because they're your country! You never agreed to any of this! But you were born into the system so you're participating in it whether you want to or not. Sometimes you can stop being a citizen, or become a citizen of some other country, but it's very rare, very difficult, and takes a whole lot of paperwork.

I assume that a Generic Non-Denominational Multi-Afterlife setting works the same way. You may be able to choose which afterlife you go to, if you meet whatever criteria there are for transferring to that afterlife; but one way or another, you're going to an afterlife. If you don't choose one, one's chosen for you. You can't opt out of being in the system just because you don't believe it's real.

#whoht t #ask #gravity falls #headcanons

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sugarcreambiteskingdom · 2 months ago

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https://www.tumblr.com/dollyrin/764243962401849344/hey-yo-can-i-request-headcannons-of-the-ancient?source=share

I'm not the original Anon but I would like to see your take on this idea

Cream Oreo Cookie: Sure thing! I'll do my best because I didn't read the whole thing and only the ask of it 😅

Pure Vanilla Cookie

The way you steal everything in his castle and then bring it back confuses him and got him interested in it actually

Instead of stealing the artifact or anything that holds great value in history or could be sold for riches you bring it back

Though there is one thing you stole that you never went and give it back which was his heart

As he walks through the halls just to get a glass of water he would saw a glimpse of you in the darkness on the window ready to leave..."Y/N Cookie?" He called out to you

Which you only turned your head around and gave him a wink which immediately made him blush and had his heart skip a beat

And just like that...you took his heart and never gave it back...which he doesn't mind at all actually...

Now every once in a while he will stay up and wait for you...

White Lily Cookie

She was confused on what you want to steal from her when she barely has anything that worths anything since she's always on the move...

Unless you want her soul jam that is? And yet you never touched it..

But you did stole her tools and items she needs for her expedition and has to wait a whole day for you to give it back

She got used to it at this point and while she waits for her items to brought back she improvised to what she can use which actually helped her to be more creative with her ways of doing things like...climbing a mountain...getting something away from her path...or how to light a campfire and etc

You we're very helpful and Wonderful in her perspective..

And she wants to also thank you for giving her flowers in each item you gave back to her

Hollyberry Cookie

You are one cheeky Cookie to be stealing her juice every once and awhile and give it back while putting sticky notes on every juice you stole giving it ratings whether you like them or not which surprised her and actually find it quite funny and entertaining

At this point she would put one of her personal favorites out and check if you like it and some of it did made it to be one of your favorites which she was glad

Wild berry Cookie on the other hand is confused to why Her Majesty is even entertaining this but unfortunately he can't do anything about it let alone his son either...

So they let her be

In one of the juice you stole you actually found a sticky note on it saying..."You do know having juice all alone is very dull right? But having a plus one doesn't!"

Dark Cacao Cookie

You are one very odd Cookie for him

I mean how can you break in his walls and stole some of his weapons but what is much more baffling is the fact you put it back where you find them

You even out sticky note on some weapons saying where you got in and how you managed to get the said weapon which...helped him to actually be more secure and improvised with his way of securing his kingdom which he..thank you for that...

Those notes also have small puns from here and there which he unfortunately inherited from you despite how he has it but...because of you...he starts to actually smile which he won't admit Ofcourse

Golden Cheese Cookie

She was amazed from your greediness and how you managed to get pass her most trusted and most strongest guard of the gates Burnt Cheese Cookie

You stole a lot of gold from her and yet you give it back...you are one interesting Thief Y/N Cookie

She told Burnt Cheese Cookie to actually let you pass which he was baffle and even was taken a back from that but...he can't do anything because her Majesty has made up her mind so...he lets you in whether he likes it or not

Until...you gave her a sticky note saying to let him fight you because you had fun playing with him and his jackals and snakes

Burnt Cheese Cookie was not sure if he should be annoyed or relief to not let in a thief like you into the Golden City whether you give the stolen items back or not

Golden Cheese Cookie was entertained by your greediness and wondered if you plan on stealing more artifacts from her in her Golden City and Palace

#cookie run kingdom #crk #cookie run ancients #cookie run x y/n #cookie run x reader #pure vanilla cookie #white lily cookie #hollyberry cookie #dark cacao cookie #golden cheese cookie #pure vanilla cookie x reader #white lily cookie x reader #hollyberry cookie x reader #dark cacao cookie x reader #golden cheese cookie x reader #ancient cookies x reader #ancient cookies x y/n

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moonselune · 2 months ago

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The boys with a satyr tav who's like. Such an angsty little guy, but they figure out he's been through a LOT of life. Used to he a king, a pirate, the whole shibang. Only reason he was even in Baldur's gate is bc he was going through a bad breakup with the queen of said far away land, one she didn't take too well.

ahaha i do love the trope of 'powerful scorned ex' there's something so intoxicating about it

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Gale:

The city lights of Baldur's Gate cast long, wavering shadows over your night as you sit beside Gale at the edge of a bustling square, feeling its music and laughter pulse around you. Though you’re surrounded by revelry, your mind drifts, unfurling memories of past adventures and conquests—empires seized, ships stormed, castles claimed in your name. You’ve always been restless, a creature of perpetual movement, seeking both exhilaration and escape.

It doesn’t help that Gale, with his keen eyes and warm, gentle presence, sees through you like he’s reading some ancient tome. He sees past the sardonic smiles and hardened exterior to the weight you carry, the shadows of things long lost and battles left behind.

It’s unnerving, honestly—how he catches you gazing off toward the harbor with a faraway look, and without a word, sets a quiet hand on your shoulder, a gesture as subtle as it is grounding. For all your world-worn edges, Gale holds you with an understanding that makes you feel, for a moment, at home.

But that night, as the city bustles with its typical rowdy din, Gale notices the way your brows furrow, gaze distant. There’s a tension in you, a heaviness that even the thrill of a fresh ale and a crowded tavern can’t ease. He leans forward, studying you with that contemplative expression that has become so familiar.

"Tell me," he murmurs, reaching across the table to place a hand over yours. "What brought a king like you to a place like Baldur's Gate?"

For a moment, you consider deflecting, throwing off the question with a smirk and a sharp retort. But something in Gale’s gaze is different tonight, a warmth that refuses to let you hide. You sigh, your finger tracing the rim of your cup before meeting his gaze with an honesty you rarely offer.

"Her Majesty herself,” you say with a huff, your voice both bitter and amused. "An empress, in a kingdom far from here. She was…" You trail off, struggling to put into words the pull and power she had over you. "Let’s say she was the kind who’d prefer her lovers to remain loyal, even if she was the most fickle creature I’d ever known."

Gale raises an eyebrow, intrigued. "I take it things didn’t end amicably?"

A short laugh escapes you. "Not quite. She wanted everything, always, with no limits. I left when I realized that I was just another ornament in her collection, and she… well, she didn’t appreciate the loss. I barely escaped with my head."

Gale’s fingers tighten around yours. "So she banished you?”

You shake your head, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. "No, banishment would’ve been merciful. Let’s just say she has a few tricks up her sleeve that’d make even a wizard like you jealous. I’ve been dodging her… influence ever since.”

There’s a sadness in Gale’s eyes, an understanding that reaches deeper than his words as he gently says, "Sounds like you’ve left a lifetime behind. And the heart doesn’t always heal as quickly as the mind, does it?"

That vulnerability in his voice pulls at something you’ve kept buried, something you thought you’d left on the shores of that faraway kingdom. You open your mouth to respond, to deflect perhaps, but Gale beats you to it, his voice softening.

"Running from one kingdom to the next, and now here in Baldur’s Gate,” he says, his gaze holding yours. "You don’t have to run anymore, you know."

You blink, the weight of his words sinking in. There’s a quiet strength in the way he says it, a reassurance you never expected from him—a wizard who has his own troubles, his own losses. Gale is no stranger to the past clinging to the present, yet he’s offering you something you thought was lost to you.

With a shrug, you turn to look at him, raising your cup as if to toast him but pausing as your eyes meet. There’s a flicker of something you can’t place, and you feel your heart stammering in a way it hasn’t in a long time.

"And what, wizard, would you have me do?" You ask, your voice laced with a challenge that hides your own nervousness. "Find solace here? Settle down, perhaps?”

A slight smile tugs at Gale’s lips as he tilts his head. "Perhaps. Or perhaps find a place that’s not just an escape—a life you can build instead of simply wander through. A life we could build together."

You stare at him, the air between you tense with something new and unnamed. A part of you wants to laugh it off, to dismiss his words as foolish and naive. But there’s something about the way he’s looking at you, something unshakeable and warm, that stirs memories of all the things you’ve tried to forget—the longing for a life without fear or restlessness.

The weight of the years catches up to you—the kingdoms conquered, the ships sailed, the battles fought, and all the lives you’ve left behind. For the first time, in the heart of Baldur’s Gate with this wizard by your side, you realize you might actually want something more than the thrill of the chase.

Your hand tightens around his, and you lean in closer, your voice softer, almost shy. "And if I said I was ready for that? To stop running?"

Gale’s smile deepens, a glimmer of relief in his eyes as he cups your cheek. "Then, my king, I would say you’ve finally found your way home."

As his lips meet yours, you feel the burdens of the past start to lift, replaced by a quiet, steady warmth—a hope that maybe, just maybe, there’s a life waiting for you here that doesn’t require leaving anything behind.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Astarion:

The nights in Baldur’s Gate always seemed quieter, softer, when you spent them alone with Astarion, despite the bustling noise of the city outside. Tonight, as the two of you sit together on the balcony of a small, worn tavern, there’s a lull in the usual chatter between you. He’s watching you, silver eyes sharp with interest as he leans against the balcony rail, studying the way the city lights reflect in your dark gaze.

The evening air is rich with scents from the market below—roasted chestnuts, spices, the ever-present smell of ale. You lean back, taking it all in, lost in thought, and for a moment, Astarion just lets the silence hang, until he eventually breaks it with his usual wry charm.

“Alright, my brooding, mysterious satyr—spill it. What’s going on in that horned head of yours tonight?”

You exhale, a half-sigh, half-laugh escaping your lips. “You’re relentless, you know that?”

His grin widens, and he leans in closer, resting his chin on his hand as he watches you with that predatory curiosity he always carries. “Oh, I’ve heard. Though, from you, I’d expect nothing less in return.”

You look at him then, realizing you’ve let more slip than you usually would in recent days. Not much goes unnoticed with Astarion. He’s a vampire with a taste for secrets and a fondness for breaking down defenses, his keen eye always catching the smallest cracks in a person’s armor. It’s part of what had drawn him to you in the first place—you were different, you carried more history than most of Baldur’s Gate put together, wrapped in quiet agony and dark memories. And maybe he hadn’t expected you to let him see beneath that stoic veneer you wore so well.

So, tonight, you decide to let him in just a little further. You take a swig of your drink, the rich, bitter taste giving you the last bit of courage you need, and turn to him.

“I’m only here in this wretched city because of her,” you say, with a dry, bitter laugh. “A queen. Regal, beautiful, and just as venomous as she was beguiling. She… didn’t quite take our break-up well.”

Astarion arches an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh, a queen, you say?” His eyes spark with interest, leaning forward to catch every word. “Go on.”

“Oh, she was a queen alright. She had everything: beauty, power, an empire at her feet—and yet, somehow, she still wanted more.” You shake your head, your voice a mix of anger and wistful amusement. “When I finally had enough, I walked away. Left her and the whole damn kingdom behind me. Apparently, she wasn’t accustomed to being refused.”

Astarion chuckles, the sound low and rich with amusement. “Ah, so that’s why you’re here—Baldur’s Gate, a city of rogues and misfits. Hiding from a scorned queen with power at her fingertips?”

You smirk, giving a small nod. “Something like that. It was either run or spend eternity looking over my shoulder.”

He’s quiet for a moment, his hand resting against yours on the balcony rail, his thumb tracing small circles along your knuckles.

“You, a pirate king,” he says softly, almost to himself. “I can’t say I didn’t suspect as much. There’s a haunted edge in your eyes—one I don’t see in the typical scoundrels that wander this city.”

The vulnerability in his voice surprises you. You look down at your intertwined hands, struck by how grounding it feels, his cool touch anchoring you to the present. You never expected to find someone in this cursed city who could understand, let alone accept, the weight you carry.

“It’s funny,” you murmur. “After all the lives I’ve led, all the titles I’ve worn, here I am—just a stranger in a strange land. Running from a woman who probably still dreams of strangling me with her silken gloves.”

Astarion’s laughter is rich and bright, and he squeezes your hand, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “If it helps, darling, I’d never dream of strangling you… maybe only to spice things up.”

You chuckle, and the humor pulls you back from the darker memories clawing at the edges of your mind. The smile he brings out is genuine, cutting through the weight of past lives, past loves, and bitter betrayals. Astarion leans closer, his face now inches from yours, eyes softening as he studies your expression.

“You’ve lived so many lives,” he murmurs, his voice gentle. “A king, a pirate… all these grand titles. And yet, I think I prefer this version of you—the one sitting here with me on a broken balcony above a creaky old tavern.”

For the first time in what feels like forever, you don’t feel like an exile, a fugitive, or a former monarch cast out by love. You just feel like you. And as you lean in, resting your head against his shoulder, the past falls away, leaving only the quiet comfort of his presence, the city lights twinkling like stars above you.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Wyll:

In the dim glow of the inn's candlelight, Wyll sits across from you, leaning forward with that soft, intrigued expression that makes your heart twist in ways you haven’t felt in a long time. There's warmth in his gaze, a comforting steadiness, and something more—a desire to know you, truly know you. And that makes it harder to put up the usual walls.

You take a deep breath, running a hand over your horns, a habit you've picked up when you’re lost in thought. It’s rare you let anyone this close, let alone someone as earnest as Wyll. His world is built on honor, justice, and belief in something better. Your world… well, your world has been quite the opposite.

“Let me get this straight,” Wyll says, his tone somewhere between disbelief and amusement. “You were a king?”

You smirk, shifting in your seat.

“I was,” you reply with a shrug, like it’s the most casual thing in the world. But you can feel Wyll’s gaze on you, urging you to say more. “A pirate too,” you add after a moment, leaning back. “And a warlord, a smuggler—oh, and a reluctant diplomat on occasion.”

Wyll laughs, his eyes lighting up. “A king, a pirate, a diplomat. And here I was thinking I’d seen it all,” he says, though there’s a glimmer of worry in his gaze, like he’s wondering what brought you here, to a place like Baldur’s Gate, far from any throne.

“You’re quite the charmer,” you reply, trying to keep things light, but his curiosity has a way of drawing you out. You take another sip of your drink, feeling its warmth spread through you as you muster the words. “The only reason I’m here, if you really want to know, is because of a queen.”

Wyll raises an eyebrow, but he stays silent, waiting for you to continue. And for a reason you can’t quite name, you do.

“She was everything you’d expect a queen to be: ruthless, beautiful, and ambitious as the gods themselves,” you say, a wry smile tugging at your lips. “She had her sights set on everything and everyone she wanted. And, for a time, that was me.”

His expression softens, though his brow creases as he considers your words. “So… she cast you out?”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “It was… messier than that. Let’s just say queens don’t take breakups well. She had power, more power than I realized. And when I finally left her…” Your voice trails off, memories stirring that you'd rather keep buried. “She didn’t take it lightly. So, here I am, halfway across the world, trying to forget it all.”

Wyll’s hand reaches across the table, resting atop yours. It’s a gentle, grounding touch, the kind you’re not used to. You glance at his hand, then up into his eyes, and find only warmth there, no judgment or pity. Just… understanding.

“Sometimes,” he says quietly, “the past follows us no matter how far we run. But it doesn’t have to define us.”

For the first time in a long while, you feel something shift within you—a loosening of the weight you've carried. Wyll’s words echo in your mind, and for once, the memories don’t feel quite as heavy.

He smiles, leaning forward, his voice soft. “Tell me more about her, this queen of yours. What was it that drew you to her?”

You laugh, a rueful sound. “She was the kind of woman who could make you feel like you owned the stars one moment and then take them all away the next. There’s something intoxicating about that sort of power.” You glance at Wyll, who’s watching you with that same soft expression. “But that kind of intensity… it burns out quickly.”

He nods, his gaze unwavering. “And what are you searching for now?” His thumb brushes over your knuckles, grounding you once again.

“I don’t know,” you admit, glancing down. “Maybe peace, if that’s even possible for someone like me. I’ve spent so long running… it feels strange to stop.”

Wyll’s lips curl into a faint smile. “Then maybe it’s time to stop running. Here, with me.”

Your breath catches at the simplicity of his words. You want to brush it off, to make some sarcastic remark, but the earnestness in his eyes makes it impossible. Slowly, you nod, feeling a warmth spread through you, different from the thrill of adventure or the fire of battle. It’s gentler, softer—a kind of peace you never thought you’d find.

In the dim light, Wyll’s fingers tighten around yours, a silent promise between you. And for the first time, you feel like you might actually belong somewhere, with someone who sees you, who accepts every piece of you, no matter how jagged or scarred.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Halsin:

The firelight in the heart of the forest flickered in the cool, evening air as you sat beside Halsin, his solid presence a grounding force beside you. The two of you had been silent for a while, sharing a meal, the gentle sounds of the forest surrounding you. Though he had seen many seasons, lived many years himself, you had to admit—Halsin made everything around him feel fresh, vibrant. And that was a rare feeling for someone like you, someone who had spent countless lives in battles and thrones, on wild seas and winding roads.

In moments like these, it was easy to feel grounded. He knew of some of your past, of course, pieced together from comments you’d let slip about former lives, your love for adventure, and your disdain for staying in one place too long. But the particulars, especially what brought you to Baldur’s Gate in the first place, remained shrouded in mystery—an ancient pain you weren’t quite sure how to share.

Tonight, though, he could sense the weight on you. The forest might have been your sanctuary, a place to relax and let down your guard, but Halsin could see through the cracks, his eyes trained on you with a gentle patience. It was that look that finally coaxed the words out, the whole story you hadn’t dared tell anyone.

“Baldur’s Gate was never meant to be a destination,” you began, twirling a stick idly in your hands, the words coming out quieter than you expected. “More like a… refuge. A place I ended up after everything else went to hell.”

Halsin watched you, leaning forward with gentle encouragement, his eyes never leaving yours as he listened with an attentiveness that put you at ease. You took a deep breath, letting the old memories surge to the surface.

“She was a queen—an empress, really. The sort who never knew a throne she couldn’t take. And for a while, I was her king. But I was just one of many things she wanted; someone she believed belonged to her, like a prized gem to wear. When I realized I was nothing more than another piece in her collection, I left. Got away. Or, well, I tried.” You laughed, though the bitterness remained.

Halsin’s brow furrowed, his hand resting gently on your shoulder. “And she didn’t accept that well, did she?”

You shook your head, forcing a smile. “She took it as a challenge. Sent half her court after me, hired blades and spells alike. Every town I passed through, every inn I stopped at, I found her influence waiting. She wasn’t someone who liked to lose, especially not to someone she saw as her equal.”

There was a beat of silence, the crackling fire your only companion as you let the weight of your words settle. You expected some kind of pity from Halsin, or perhaps anger on your behalf, but he just listened, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your shoulder.

“And so, here I am,” you said, forcing a smirk. “The great, brooding satyr, running from his past and finding trouble around every corner. I didn’t exactly intend to stay in Baldur’s Gate, but… here I am. And here you are.”

Halsin’s hand moved from your shoulder to cup your face, his thumb brushing across your cheek in a touch so tender it made you forget, just for a moment, all the anger and regret. His gaze held yours, deep and steady, grounding you like the roots of a great oak.

“Life,” he began, his voice low and full of understanding, “is a series of seasons. You’ve endured the harshest of winters, but that doesn’t mean spring won’t come. It sounds as if you’ve never truly had a place to call home—never a sanctuary where you could simply exist without running.”

You swallowed, the truth of his words settling heavily in your chest. He leaned closer, his eyes searching yours, and the warmth of his presence seeped through, soothing and reassuring in a way that made you feel lighter than you had in years.

“I… I never thought of it that way,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “The idea of staying anywhere, of planting roots—it’s terrifying.”

“Then we’ll start small,” he murmured, a gentle smile spreading across his face. “We’ll find sanctuary here, together, no expectations beyond what you’re ready for. If anyone comes after you, I’ll be by your side. You’re not alone.”

Halsin pulled you into a gentle embrace, his arms wrapping around you in a way that felt like a shield, a silent promise that he would stand with you, whatever happened next. You closed your eyes, letting yourself sink into his warmth, feeling his heart beat steadily against your own.

“Thank you, Halsin,” you whispered, a weight lifting from your shoulders.

When you finally pulled back, Halsin’s gaze remained steady, his eyes filled with a love that left you speechless. He didn’t see you as some relic of a broken past, or a former king trapped in his own history. To him, you were simply you, someone worth standing beside, someone worth loving.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Hope you guys enjoyed this, sorry nonnie this took me a while to do! - Seluney xox

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