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dearly-somber · 1 year ago

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Sharp Teeth | j.jk

-> pairing. wolf shifter!jungkook x human!reader (f)

-> genre. fluff, angst, unrequited love, pining, f2l (friends-to-lovers), high school!au

-> w/c. 1172

-> rating. 13+

-> a/n. Heavily inspired by the Sharp Teeth animatic on YouTube created by Dead Sound. The song I listened to while writing this was a song included in the animatic by Wes Hutchinson called One Down Dog. Give them a watch and a listen.

-> warnings. N/A

-> collection. mini-series

-> started. Wed., Jun. 30th, 2022 @ 18:18

-> fin. Wed., Jun. 30th, 2022 @ 19:18

-> edited. Mon., Jul. 18th, 2022 @ 23:35

-> divider credit. @mmadeinheavenn

Jungkook’s mother let her son cuddle into her side as he so often did before bed, showing him the book cover. Jungkook’s eyes sparkled at the sight of a particularly intriguing and somewhat familiar sketch of what he recognized as wolf canines. The book was bound in burgundy leather, the image of the canine carved into the cover so when his fingers brushed over it, it sank before evening out again. His mother turned to the first page and Jungkook got transported into the story, imagining himself in an open field with grass growing green and a gentle summer breeze, somewhere quiet and calm.

The point of view shifted from the delicately flowing grass stems to a herd of sheep gathered by a river’s edge, grazing peacefully.

On the opposite side, however, an ewe laid; looking curiously at two lambs curled into her side.

Jungkook’s mother read, “‘Are you… mine?’”

The ewe blinked carefully at the little lamb who stood on four shaky feet, tail wiggling excitedly at its mother.

“Mother is confused. She’s looking for a sign.” Jungkook waited with bated breath for his mother to continue, looking on as the ewe stood up herself. She nuzzled into the limp lamb’s side before pulling away slowly. “The rest seem unmoved.”

On the next page, the ewe turned to the eager little lamb, nuzzling and licking it before pulling away. Jungkook’s mother continued narrating in a chipper voice.

“‘Yes, you are mine!’ The mother stated with glee. ‘You’re small, and round, and helpless, but I can tell; from your blunt teeth.’”

The lamb baaed in response. Jungkook tilted his head in slight confusion. Blunt teeth? He brought his hand up to touch his teeth experimentally. He pulled them back after feeling around his mouth. No, his teeth weren’t blunt. Sure, some of them were blunter than his canines, but they were significantly sharper than what was considered ‘normal’.

Mother sheep lead her lamb to the riverbank, an establishing shot showing other animals on the opposite side of the river, grazing and whatnot.

“‘Most outside are friendly—the swift’,” a group of deer. “‘The strong,’” a herd of horses. “‘Who fly.’” Swans overhead. “‘Being so close to ground, it’s nice—to have more eyes.’” The lamb looked at its mother timidly, its weak legs quivering with fear.

“‘Don’t worry!’” Its mother soothed at the same time Jungkook’s mother brushed a hand over his head. “‘Blunt teeth, and beaks, and four feet… none here have sharp teeth. Just stay close to me.’”

As Jungkook’s mother turned to the next page, the illustrations took an unsettling turn, zooming in on the animals opposite of the mother and her young. “The swift ones run away, the strong ones turn around—both with heightened senses, and stuck so close to ground.” The point of view shifted back to the mother and her lamb.

“Will make them run in fear? Mother is confused. An evil monster is near! Her young as she cannot lose.” The ewe stood defensively next to her lamb. Panic seized her heart.

“Mother is to defend—slow but tough and firm—her young one not so behind her, the young bones. Every twitch another monster mother is convinced! She’ll never leave her youngster, even monsters do exist!”

A wolf rushed out of the shadows, snapping its jaws around the helpless little lamb.

“The young one cries out, but mother was too late. The evil monster lunged, and sealed the young one’s fate.” Jungkook instinctively held his mother close, lower lip quivering and tears glossing his vision. The ewe fell to her knees, panting fearfully by the river’s edge.

“Mother’s instincts shattered, scared. Confused of what became. So round and small and helpless, with only herself, to blame.” Jungkook sniffled, appreciating his own mother when she gave him a moment to recover. She paged over: a wide-shot of the wolf walking with a lifeless lamb hanging from its jaws.

“With this broken mother, seems the evil does no good. But the evil doesn’t eat—the young was not its food.” Jungkook frowns quizzically, his mother sparing him a glance and smiling fondly at his confused pout.

She turned the page a final time, opening the last two pages. “The evil, has it’s own young.” Jungkook’s mother brushed her thumb over the page with the wolf standing over a pair of pups, each small and round and helpless, with a whine slipping between their teeth. “Evil, could these be?”

Jungkook opened his mouth to protest when his mother closed the book gently, but hushed quickly when she brought him into her lap. She cupped her son’s face, thumb brushing over his cheekbones tenderly with a loving sparkle in her eyes.

“‘I think not,’ says their mother. ‘Simply born,’” Jungkook’s mother leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, “‘with sharp teeth.’”

Jungkook’s eyes closed unwillingly as she whispered the words into his skin. He pulled away to look at his dear, beloved mother with freshly stained cheeks, smiling adoringly before throwing himself forward in a tight embrace.

🌕🌖🌗🌘🌑🌒🌓🌔🌕

Jungkook’s hearing slowly refocuses, two warm palms pressing against his cheeks.

“—hear me? It isn’t your fault you were born with sharp teeth, I promise I’m not ma—“

Y/N lets out a surprised yelp as Jungkook falls into her, nuzzling into the crook of her neck while weakly wrapping his arms around her waist. She stands in shock for a moment at his shaking shoulders, before she eventually maneuvers her hands around his torso, rubbing calming circles into his back.

Jungkook is unsure of exactly how long they stand there, but he pulls away when her scent starts to cloud his senses. She smells like daffodils and raisins—an addictive combination.

Cupping his cheeks again, Y/N brushes away rogue tears with the pads of her thumbs. “You alright?”

He smiles softly at her, nodding his head in a small motion. They stare at each other for a second—Y/N with a comforting half-grin and Jungkook admiring her thoughtlessly. He eventually brings a hand up from her waist to place it over the hand resting on his cheek, hesitantly pulling it away from his face to place a close-eyed kiss to her injured palm. He only realizes once his lips touch the fabric of the bandaid that she had wrapped it, guilt forcing him to leave his lips there a second longer than necessary.

When the shifter pulls away, he watches her staring mystified at her palm, light pink hue dusting her cheeks. “I really am sorry about your hand. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

Y/N shakes her head, wrapping her arms around his neck to capture him in a hug. “I told you already that I forgive you, dummy. Like I said,” she smiles knowingly into his shoulder. “It’s not your fault you were born with sharp teeth.”

Jungkook allows a reminiscent smile to grace his features while he rests his chin on Y/N’s shoulder, holding her close. She smells so nice, he could probably just… fall asleep.

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basicmyherowhore · 14 days ago

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Puppy Princess

Heavily inspired by the song Puppy Princess by Hot Freaks

Pairings: Denki x reader (one sided), Kirishima x reader

Notes: This has been in my head for ages. When i hear this song all I can think about is hopeless Denki 🥺 Listen to it if you wish!

The soft thrum of indie music filled the air, bouncing off the walls of the dimly lit living room. Denki couldn’t help but tap his foot along with the rhythm, but his gaze kept wandering—straight to you. You were laughing, voice cheerful and melodic, as you playfully shoved Kirishima’s shoulder. The two were joking around, but Denki felt like an outsider watching them from the edge of the circle. He could barely focus on the conversation happening around him, his attention pulled like a magnet to your smile.

It wasn’t the first time he had felt like this. Every time you two hung out, every time he saw you together, he felt a quiet ache in his chest. He didn’t want to feel this way. He really didn’t. It was complicated—messy even—but still, he couldn’t help himself.

He met you not long after you started dating Kirishima. Funnily enough, he bumped into you before his friend was able to introduce you. It was at the diner the three of you were set to meet at. For the first time in his life, he was the first one to arrive. He was sitting at a table by the window with his head in his palm, already tired of waiting. When the bell above the door rang, he turned his head hoping that it'd be his friend walking through the door. Instead, it was you. Though he had no idea who you were, he found himself entranced by you. There was just something about you...you were...

Approaching him! The sight of you walking steadily towards him brought him back to reality. You must've noticed him staring at you. But you didn't look mad. No, you were smiling at him kindly. His face felt hot.

"Hi, sorry to bother. I was wondering if you've seen a big red haired guy come through here?" You asked him in your sweet voice. His mouth felt dry as he looked for the words. He swallowed before answering.

"I- I haven't, sorry." He responded. He pulled himself together enough to continue more confidently. "You're more than welcome to wait with me if you want." He accompanied his offer with his typical smirk. It was a shot in the dark and he honestly didn't expect much out of it. You were way out of his league, but the saying goes 'you miss every shot you don't take'. He was prepared for rejection when you surprised him by taking a seat across from him.

"Sure, thanks for offering!" You smiled brightly at him. "I've never been to this place before, do you have any recommendations?" He couldn't fucking believe it, momentarily too stunned to speak. Never in a million years did he think he would be sat across from a girl like you. But he certainly wouldn't let this once in a lifetime opportunity slip between his fingers.

He spoke to you with confidence. You told jokes and made him laugh then he would return the favor. He told you stories to keep you entertained. The two of you lost track of time together. Nearly a hour had passed before Kirishima finally made it. Denki had noticed him before you did, the blonde preparing to shoo his friend away to have more one on one time with you. Before he got the chance, you turned you head to see what he was looking at. A smile brighter than any of the ones he had seen yet spread across your face.

"Hey, Babe!" You called, standing up to greet the man with a hug which he gladly returned. The word 'babe' rung in Denki's ears like a gong.

"Hey, guys! I see you two found each other!" Kirishima smiled back. "Denks, this is Y/N, my girlfriend. I wanted to finally introduce you two."

Of. Fucking. Course. You were his best friend's girlfriend. That's his shitty luck. He should've known it was too good to be true.

"Well, its about time you got here. Didn't anyone ever teach you not to keep a lady waiting?" He jokingly chided, ignoring the way he felt inside. He could put those budding feelings behind him. He needed to be a good friend and it was as simple as that.

But of course it wasn't that simple. Despite his decision to bury the way he felt about you, the feelings continued to resurface. Little by little, his feelings for you had deepened, blossomed into something that felt dangerous, something he could never express.

“Denki, you good, man?” Kirishima’s voice snapped Denki out of his thoughts. He was smiling, his broad shoulders taking up most of the space in the room. He had his usual fiery energy, always enthusiastic and good natured, but Denki couldn’t help but notice the slight tension in his posture.

Denki smiled weakly. “Yeah, just… just thinking.”

“About what?” Kirishima raised an eyebrow. How could he tell his best friend that he was lost in thought thinking of his girlfriend? Thinking of your eyes, your smile, your soft looking lips that seemed so kissable-

Denki shrugged, trying to mask the shift in his mood. “Nothing important. Ya know...just zoning out.”

You turned to look at him, your lips quirking into a small, curious smile. “You sure you’re alright, Denki? You’re looking kind of lost in space.”

Denki swallowed hard, wishing the ground would swallow him whole. You always noticed. Always.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice a little too high-pitched. “I’m good. Really.”

Kirishima clapped him on the back, his usual grin wide and carefree. “Don’t worry, man. You’ll snap out of it. Let’s grab a drink or something.”

You turned back to Kirishima, your focus back on the conversation, but Denki’s mind kept replaying the way your eyes had briefly lingered on him. Had he imagined it? Or were you really wondering what was going on inside his head?

The next few days passed in a blur of schoolwork, hangouts, and stolen moments. It wasn’t as though Denki didn’t love hanging out with both you and Kirishima. He did. It was just… different now. He couldn’t escape the weight of the feelings he’d been carrying.

One afternoon, you were all at your favorite diner, sitting in the usual booth. Denki had been fiddling with the straw in his drink, trying to force the usual carefree banter into the conversation, but his mind was elsewhere. Kirishima and you were deep in conversation about a new band you were excited about, but Denki couldn’t really concentrate on the topic. All he could hear was the sound of your laughter, the way your eyes sparkled when you spoke.

He’d gotten so good at hiding it—this secret crush, this love that had slowly crept into his chest like vines twisting through his ribs. He had no idea when it got this intense—maybe it was always this bad, waiting for the right moment to burst free. But now, the harder he tried to push it down, the more it bubbled up.

“So, Denki,” Kirishima said, leaning over the table with an exaggerated grin. “You gonna tell Y/N about that band you’ve been talking about? Or are you too shy?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Denki, you’ve been holding out on us?”

Denki’s face flushed a deep red. He quickly grabbed his drink, taking a big gulp to cover his nervousness. “Nah, it’s… it’s nothing. Just some stuff I’ve been listening to.”

You leaned in a little closer, eyes playful. “Come on, you’re always hiding the good stuff from us.”

The proximity made Denki’s heart race. Your eyes were so close, and in that moment, he could smell the faint scent of your perfume—something soft and sweet. He swallowed, trying to push down the sudden, stupid surge of feelings that rose in him.

“I’ll make you a playlist sometime,” he said, trying to sound casual, but his voice cracked slightly. He hated how obvious he was being.

Kirishima didn’t seem to notice, his attention drifting to a passing waitress. But your gaze lingered on Denki for just a fraction longer than normal, and for a moment, it felt like time slowed. Your eyes softened, lips slightly parted, and Denki had to fight the overwhelming urge to reach out and pull you closer, bringing your lips to his and ruining everything.

But he didn’t. He couldn’t.

“Alright, Denki,” you said, smiling brightly. “I’m looking forward to it.”

That night, Denki lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. He couldn’t sleep—not with thoughts of you running through his mind like a nonstop movie reel. His fingers traced the edge of his blanket, his body tangled in the sheets as he imagined what it would be like to tell her the truth. What would it feel like to let you know? Would it change everything between you two?

His thoughts drifted to the quiet moments they shared—those small, seemingly insignificant exchanges that meant so much more to him. How your hand had brushed his when you’d both reached for the last French fry at lunch. How your laugh made his heart skip a beat. How, on those rare occasions when you had to walk somewhere together, your presence beside him felt like the most natural thing in the world.

In his fantasies, it was always simple. You’d be alone with him in some cozy spot, maybe on the roof of their school or sitting at a park bench under the stars. You would turn to him, your eyes full of curiosity and warmth, and he would finally tell you everything.

He could see it so clearly: your face lighting up in surprise, cheeks flushing just the tiniest bit, and then you’d say something that made his chest tighten—something like, “I’ve been waiting for you to say that.” And then, in his fantasy, you’d kiss him. Softly, gently, like you had always known it was meant to be him.

But that was just a fantasy.

In reality, Denki couldn’t picture it happening. Not with Kirishima in the picture. Not with the three of you tangled in their complex web of friendship and unspoken rules. He’d spent so much time trying to convince himself that his feelings for you were just a phase, that he was just being dramatic. But the more time he spent with you, the harder it was to lie to himself.

You were the only one that truly saw him. You knew that he was more than a clown, someone that was always the comedic relief. You listened to his ideas, heard what he had to say and took him seriously. He was a somebody to you, not just another side character. You made him feel important—you made him feel legit.

He sighed, pushing the thought away. Maybe it would be easier if he just accepted it. You weren’t his to keep. You were Kirishima’s, and that was just how things were. Maybe, eventually, he’d learn to stop dreaming of you the way he did. Maybe, eventually, he’d be okay with the distance.

But for now, he couldn’t stop wishing for a different reality—one where he could be the one you turned to when you needed someone. One where he was more than just your friend.

It was the night of a big party, one of those end of year celebrations where everyone let loose. Denki had been avoiding you and Kirishima a little, trying to maintain a semblance of normalcy, but it was becoming harder to pretend. His feelings for you had grown too strong to ignore, and the moment he had been dreading had finally arrived.

He found you alone outside, sitting on the back steps of the house, gazing up at the stars. You spoke about the stars often, how much you loved gazing up at the endless sky. You looked so at peace sitting there, away from the noise of the party. He almost didn’t want to disturb you. But he knew it was time.

“Hey,” he said quietly, walking over to you.

You looked up and smiled, your eyes lighting up in that way that made Denki’s heart ache. “Hey, Denks. You okay?”

For a moment, he hesitated. Then, without thinking, he blurted it out: “I’m in love with you, Y/N.”

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, it felt like the world stopped. You blinked, your expression unreadable. Denki’s heart pounded in his chest, the fear of rejection gripping him.

“I… I’ve been in love with you for a while,” he added quickly, his voice soft and wavering. “I know you’re with Kirishima. I’m sorry. I just… I needed to say it.”

You were silent for a long time, gaze dropping to your hands. Denki held his breath, afraid to hear the words that he ultimately knew were coming.

You remained silent for what felt like an eternity. Denki stood frozen, his heart thumping in his ears, terrified that he’d made a huge mistake. Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything. Maybe he had ruined everything—his friendship with you, with Kirishima, everything. He felt sick, like he was moments away from spilling his guts all over the ground and embarrassing himself even more.

He opened his mouth to backpedal, to say it was all a joke, but before he could, you slowly lifted your gaze to meet his. Your eyes were soft, almost sad, but there was something else in them—something he couldn’t quite place.

“You… you’ve been in love with me?” You asked, voice quiet and unsure.

Denki nodded, feeling a weight settle on his chest. His stomach twisted, and he fought the urge to turn and run, to take back the words that were already hanging between them like a fragile thread.

“I didn’t want to tell you this way,” he said, trying to explain, his voice cracking with emotion. “I never wanted to mess things up with you and Kirishima, or with us, but I… I couldn’t keep it in anymore. I don’t expect anything. I just… needed you to know.”

Your expression softened further with your eyes moving away from his to stare out at the darkened sky. The cool breeze tousled your hair, and you hugged your knees to your chest, looking small and vulnerable. Denki’s heart ached at the sight, wishing he could take away your unease. You weren’t angry, but you weren’t happy either. He could feel the distance between them growing, like a wall slowly building that he didn’t know how to tear down.

“Denki,” you started, voice barely above a whisper. “I… I had no idea. I mean, I always knew you were a little different around me, but…”

You paused, biting your lip as if you were choosing your next words carefully.

“I care about you, Denki. A lot. You’re one of my closest friends. But I don’t feel that way about you.” Your words hung in the air, heavy with finality.

Denki felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. He had known, deep down, that this was how it would go, that you didn’t feel the same, that his feelings would never be returned. But hearing you say it out loud made it feel real, and that was the hardest part.

“I’m sorry,” you continued, your voice thick with something he couldn’t quite name. “I don’t want to hurt you. You mean so much to me. But Kirishima… he’s the one I’m with. And I don’t think I can change that.”

Denki nodded, swallowing hard. He knew it was coming, but the sting still burned. He forced a smile, though it felt brittle on his face. “It’s okay. I get it. Really.” He rubbed his eyes, hoping to smudge away any tears that were starting to form.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The only sound was the distant music from inside the party, muffled by the walls of the house. Denki felt a strange, hollow sensation in his chest, like he was standing in a room that no longer quite fit him. But he couldn’t show you how much it hurt, not when you were being so gentle, so understanding. He didn’t want to make things harder for you, didn’t want to be a burden.

“Denki…” You said again, and this time, you looked at him more directly. Your gaze softened with something like pity. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t want to hurt you. You’re such a great guy. I don’t want you to feel bad about this.”

Denki shook his head, managing a half-hearted chuckle. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. I’ve just… been holding on to this for too long. Maybe I just needed to say it, you know? Closure or whatever. Maybe now I can move on.”

A silence passed between you again, this time more comfortable. Denki wanted to leave. He wanted to step away and disappear into the crowd, get away from the way his chest felt tight and raw. But he also didn’t want to make it awkward. He didn’t want to lose you completely, even if his heart was in pieces.

You let out a small sigh, fingers running over the hem of your jacket. “You’re still my friend, Denki. Nothing’s going to change that.”

“I know,” he replied softly, even though part of him wondered if it would change. How could things go back to normal after this? After he had laid his feelings bare and you’d gently rejected them?

“I’m glad you told me,” you added, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “It takes a lot of courage to say something like that.”

Denki nodded, feeling the heat of embarrassment rise in his cheeks. “Yeah. Well, I’ll probably regret it tomorrow, but… I guess it’s better to get it out than keep it bottled up, right?”

You smiled, and for the briefest of moments, Denki saw that spark of warmth return to your eyes. It made him feel like maybe, just maybe, things could still be okay. Maybe he wasn’t completely losing you after all.

That night, after the conversation outside, Denki couldn’t sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, your face appeared before him. He had learned to push his feelings down—months of friendship with you and years with Kirishima had taught him how to hide his emotions behind a mask of easy smiles and casual jokes. But it had always been there, bubbling just below the surface, waiting for the right moment to break through. And now it had.

The confession had been painful, but it was necessary. Or at least, that’s what he told himself as he lay in his bed, staring up at the ceiling, unable to get comfortable.

But despite everything, there was still that familiar pull in his chest—the one that tugged at him every time he saw you. Even now, his mind was running wild with images of you: the way your laughter sounded like sunshine breaking through clouds, the soft way you touched his arm when you were trying to make a point, the sparkle in your eyes when you were excited about something new.

The truth was, he couldn’t help but fantasize about you, even now after you'd rejected him. It wasn’t just the simple “what if” moments that everyone has, like “What if we kissed?” or “What if we went on a date?” No, Denki’s fantasies about you had a weight to them, a desperate longing that felt both comforting and painful all at once.

In his mind, it wasn’t just about being close to you, it was about belonging to you, being the one you chose, the one you turned to when everything in your world felt off-kilter.

Denki imagined the two of you on a warm, lazy Sunday afternoon. Both of you were in your bedroom, windows wide open, the light filtering through the curtains in soft beams. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor, playing some stupid video game, trying to distract himself from the rush of his thoughts. You were sprawled on your bed, phone in hand, scrolling through Instagram with that concentrated look you always had when you were absorbed in something.

The conversation was always effortless, the very air between the two of you was comfortable. In his mind’s eye, he could almost hear your voice, soft and teasing, as you reached out to tug on his shirt sleeve. “Denki, come here for a sec. Let me show you something.”

He’d turn to you, his heart already pounding in his chest, and you'd give him that little smile, the one you only ever gave him, a smile that said, I’m so glad you’re here without saying it aloud. He could already feel the warmth of your hand as you slid it into his, fingers naturally curling against his own.

In this version of the fantasy, he didn’t have to worry about being “just a friend.” He didn’t have to pretend like it didn’t hurt when you laughed with Kirishima, or when you talked about how much you loved him. In this fantasy, it was Denki you wanted, Denki you leaned on when you needed someone.

As he sat there with you, your head resting lightly on his shoulder, the air shifted. He could imagine the slow, steady rhythm of his heartbeat, the gentle rise and fall of your breathing. Slowly, he’d turn to you, gazes meeting in the quiet space between. Your eyes—those eyes he loved—would soften, and then you’d do something that would shatter him completely: you’d lean in, just a little, and press your soft lips against his, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

In his fantasy, it wouldn’t be a hurried or awkward kiss. It would be slow, deliberate. You’d pull back, eyes meeting his with a mixture of tenderness and something deeper. He’d be breathless, unable to speak as you looked at him, the entire room fading away until there was nothing but the two of you.

“I’ve always felt this way,” you’d say softly. “I’ve always wanted you to know that.”

And in that moment, in that perfect, impossible moment, everything would make sense. There wouldn’t be any more confusion, no more wondering if he was wasting his time. He wouldn’t have to keep carrying the weight of unspoken love. You would finally see him, in a way you never had before, and everything would fall into place.

But then, Denki would snap back to reality.

It was never like that. Not with you.

His chest tightened as the fantasy faded, leaving only the quiet hum of his room. There was no Sunday afternoon with you, no soft smiles or quiet, perfect moments. There was just him, alone in his bed, thinking about a girl who would never feel the same way about him.

In another fantasy, he imagined you and Kirishima in a quiet park, sitting on a bench together. You’d be holding hands, talking about something trivial, but the connection would be so obvious to anyone watching. Denki would be there, standing off to the side, trying to hide the way his heart clenched with jealousy. He’d pretend not to notice how your fingers fit so perfectly with Kirishima’s, how you would laugh a little too loud at his jokes, how the look in your eyes when you looked at him was so full of love and adoration that it made Denki feel like he was watching something he shouldn’t. Something almost intimate.

But in that moment, he’d let himself indulge in the fantasy where he wasn’t alone, that he was the one you turned to. He’d imagine Kirishima walking away for a moment, leaving him alone with you for just a second. Your eyes would meet his—soft, searching—and then you’d stand up, moving toward him slowly, almost as if you were drawn to him.

And for that one second, the weight of his feelings would become too much for either of you to ignore. You’d reach out and touch his arm, and in his mind, it would feel electric. He would look down at you, and in his head, you would lean up to kiss him—not because it was some dramatic moment, but because it was right. It would be real, something real, and not just a dream.

But even as he imagined it, even as he let himself feel the hope swell in his chest, he knew the truth: you weren’t his. You never would be.

Denki shook his head, trying to push the fantasies away. They were nothing more than daydreams, pointless distractions from the reality he had to face. The reality where you were with Kirishima, where he was just the friend.

But no matter how many times he tried to shut them down, his fantasies always found a way back in. It was the curse of being in love with someone he couldn’t have—every moment, every interaction, felt charged with a longing that was impossible to ignore.

He had promised himself he’d let it go. He had to. He couldn’t keep dreaming about a future that would never come. He couldn’t keep imagining what it would be like to be yours, the one you trusted with everything. But as he lay there in the dark, his mind raced with images of you, and for a few fleeting moments, the ache in his chest would quiet.

For a few fleeting moments, he could pretend that it was real. Tomorrow he could face reality.

The days following that conversation were… strange. Denki found himself avoiding you and Kirishima more than usual. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be around the both of you—it was more that he was afraid of the awkwardness that lingered, even if you never directly addressed the confession again. He kept his distance, throwing himself into his schoolwork or making excuses to hang out with other friends.

He knew that his feelings for you wouldn’t just vanish overnight. He couldn’t expect things to magically go back to how they were before. But with time, he started to accept the reality of it.

One afternoon, while walking home from school, Denki found himself thinking of the conversation again, his mind replaying your soft words, your apologetic smile. The ache in his chest was still there, but it wasn’t as sharp as it had been before. Maybe he could live with this. Maybe he could learn to be happy with being your friend, even if it meant never being the one you loved.

He knew that he’d find someone else, eventually. It might take time, and it might hurt for a while, but he’d move on. And in the meantime, he’d still have you and Kirishima, even if the dynamics had shifted.

That night, after another hangout with their usual group, Denki found himself standing outside, looking up at the stars. He thought about how he had fantasized about a moment like this. Where you would both gaze at the night sky and feel the connection, you'd finally know how much you meant to him. You'd know that he would spend the rest of his life hanging stars if it would provide you just an smidge of happiness. He had always imagined that someday, you might see him the way he saw you. But now, he could let it go. He didn’t need to hold on to something that wasn’t meant for him.

The sound of footsteps behind him broke his reverie. It was you. You stood beside him for a moment, both of you silent under the sky.

“I know things have been weird,” you said softly. “I just wanted to check in. I know this wasn’t easy for you.”

Denki smiled, feeling a little lighter than he had in days. “It’s okay. Really. I’m doing better now. I just… needed some time.”

You nodded, eyes flickering toward him. “If you ever need someone to talk to, you know I’m here. You’re important to me, Denki. Even if things aren’t… the way you wanted them to be.”

And for the first time since he’d confessed, Denki felt a quiet sense of peace. Things weren’t perfect. They weren’t how he had dreamed of. But they were still okay. And maybe that was enough for now.

The stars above seemed to twinkle a little brighter, and in that moment, Denki realized that he was okay too. Not happy, not filed with joy—but okay. And sometimes, that was all he could really ask for.

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liillyliilly · 5 months ago

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Can Not Sleep

matsukawa issei x reader words; 4263 synopsis; red string of fate AU with insomniac matsukawa

The utter horror of that red string appearing, and three years too early at that. Biologically, something must have been going on with her. Because she was only a third year in high school, she was only 18. When she stared at it just a little too long she supposed that this was the world telling her she was screwed.

And imagine her surprise at who she was linked to, her soul was interwoven with Matsukawa Issei’s. The same idiot she had a bet with to see who could kiss more people by the end of the year. They had known each other for most of high school, but they never ran in similar circles, there was just enough overlap in friends to cause them to mess around and make silly bets.

The horror at being tied to him was understated by her close friends who said at least he was hot. Sure he was hot, she’d give him that, but he was also extremely intimidating. Everyone said he had an easy-going nature, and that was true, but he also scared the living daylights out of her. No one could be that chill with everything that went on in the world, he must have been some kind of mutant to ignore the terribleness and to keep living each day to its fullest.

She deduces since neither of them talks about the string, life can continue as normal. She assumed the bet was still on, so she went to her current rotation of guys, trying to seal the deal with three of them that week at various locations throughout the school. She was not going to let eighteen thousand yen disappear that quickly from her reach.

He deduces that since neither of them talks about the string, that life is not continuing as normal. He assumed the bet was entirely off.

This is why he got a very infuriating chill when he saw his soulmate kissing someone from the debate team under the stairs on his way to English class. She pats the debater on the shoulder, telling him to get to class. When he goes in for one more kiss, Matsukawa pulls him back by the hood of his jacket, telling him to essentially get his ass in gear with one look in Matsukawa’s eyes.

“So we’re not going to talk about this,” He waves his pinkie in the air. The red string that usually remained invisible appeared visually to the pair of them, connecting his right hand to her left hand. “And you’re just going to keep kissing half the boys in school?”

“I’m at 35 boys now, thank you very much.” She cringed the moment she saw his face tighten in discomfort. She knew that he had capped out at 20 girls and had given up when the string appeared. She hadn’t heard it from him of course, she heard it from Iwaizumi who told her she needed to talk to Matsukawa because he was losing it slowly but surely day by day.

“I thought we could wait a few more years until we discussed,” She held her pinkie up in turn, “This.”

“Years? I was thinking something along a timeline of months.” He rubbed his eyes with his right hand, the string inevitably pulling her closer to him, she had to push against his chest to put some space between the two of them.

“Months? We’re still in high school mind you.” Her pinkie started to hurt, but she ignored it because she needed to set him straight about the expectations for this whole soulmate ordeal.

Matsukawa started citing all the things they were told in elementary school, she wanted to just roll her eyes. They were an exception to the rules, the whole legally registering, the whole getting a red circle tattooed around their pinkie finger to signify the bond they had, they had to be an exception because of their age.

They kept arguing, not realizing that their red string had begun to circle them, tying them up. Too busy with getting the argumentative edge to remember the other things about red strings, that they had a mind of their own. Or at least, the string’s mind was a manifestation of subconscious and conscious thoughts both soulmates had.

She went to walk away, only to realize that Matsukawa’s side of the red string, being a much darker red, had looped around her legs, her thighs, and her torso, and was keeping her from getting away from him.

He realized his fault in tying the two of them together, and for a moment he did look apologetic. So he offered words as a condolence, “You’re pretty.”

“I know.”

“And humble too.” His part of the string just looped around their waists again, meaning they’d be stuck for another thirty minutes or so. A teacher passed by and just giggled a little before guiding the pair to the nurse’s office to wait out the string.

It was shocking to realize that he never slept. Which meant that she began to never sleep.

The first time she realized he stayed up way too late was a few weeks after Matsukawa had let his side of the string go wild, resulting in the principal just telling the two of them to keep the whole red string thing to a minimum at school.

She was snoring, happily too, when her left hand began to move up and down from under the pillow. At first, she thought maybe it was just a dream, and she tried to go back to sleep. But then her hand would not stop the vertical motions, repeatedly. She called him in a fury.

“Get me out of your mind when you’re doing things like that at night!”

“I can’t help it! Biologically you’re literally that for me.”

She groaned and told him to take a cold shower so she could sleep. He had obliged that time. All the other times she just texted him and told him to make it quick, she also made it part of the routine to just scream into her pillow to release the anger at having part of her body being physically pulled by him.

Having the mental connection of thinking about your soulmate linked to physical actions was going to kill her. This was why the red string usually appeared when they were 21, because at least people had the common decency to not use their soulmates to get off in the middle of the night.

It wasn’t always him doing sexual acts either, sometimes he would just tap. Late at night, he would tap his fingers against his mattress, thinking about her. She didn’t mind that one as much as the other stuff he would do at night. She thought that the tapping was sort of sweet, in an annoying nuisance way. There would be some kind of pattern sometimes, but she could never tell distinctively what the pattern was.

Other times, she would just lay awake at night because the red string was doing its little heartbeat thing, where you could feel the heartbeat of your soulmate, but it was especially prominent when they were thinking about their soulmate. Matsukawa’s heartbeat was almost always extremely tangible for her.

She still hadn’t wanted to talk to him about the whole thing, just considering it one of those silly little things she had to deal with. But that was one of Matsukawa’s breaking points, the silence. He could do the waiting as long as she liked, but the silence was killing him. So much so that he had actively utilized her annoyance with the string’s mental-physical connection to tug so frequently one day that she would have to talk to him since no phones were allowed during the school day.

Peeking her head into his classroom, she was relieved to see it was just him in there, the rest of his classmates had gone out to buy lunches and such. He sat at his desk, moving his pinkie by hitting a volleyball in the air with both his hands.

He saw her when the door she was using to peek through had begun to slide and creak. She fell face-first to the ground when the door slid out of control, he laughed and told her to come over. Grabbing a chair, she sat across from him on the other side of the desk. He stopped tugging on the string when she finally sat down.

It was silent for a moment, they avoided each other’s eyes.

He cracks first.

“Talk to me.” He pleads. He reaches out and grabs her hand with his.

“Okay.” She bites her lip, “What do you want me to say?”

“Anything. But lemme say something first real quick, we used to be friends. Good friends I would say, but since this occurred it’s like you treat me as invisible. Like I’m not there. I can understand you wanting your time and stuff to process, like yeah this is a huge change to our lives. But I need you to realize you aren’t the only one dealing with this. I’m here too. I’m the one at the end of your string.”

She feels like crying because he sounds like he wants to cry.

“I’m not ready?”

“To treat me like a person?”

“I’m not ready to treat you like a soulmate. And all that goes on with that. I hate needles.” A flashing image of the needle that will inevitably trace around her pinkie is enough to get her to cringe.

“I know you hate needles. You told me about that first year.” Matsukawa leaned back in his chair, looking outside for a moment. “We, we can put a pause to the soulmate thing. At least for this year. But I want us to be friends again, back to normal.”

She smiles, rubbing his arm with her hand gently, “I want that too.”

Matsukawa did not enjoy being just friends. Not when his entire world had shifted. He had his person right there and she didn’t want to be anything more than friends. Suddenly everything she did was driving him crazy, and he still hadn’t even kissed her yet. Maybe it was his fault for expressing his impatience just a little too loudly during a passing period, because what the hell?

Her picture was pasted all over the walls, with the text: SOULMATE HATER almost spray-painted over it. Matsukawa realized that high school may be the worst invention of the modern world, because who decides to put a bunch of horrible undeveloped humans into one building for hours on end and say that that’s good?

She was shocked, to say the least when she got to school and traded out her shoes for her slippers. Her picture was right on her locker, with the most foul accusation. It wasn’t Matsukawa’s doing, he’d never do that. So she reasoned it must have been people sticking their noses into business that wasn’t theirs in the first place. It was crushing, embarrassing, and humiliating. She tried to rip down all the pictures in the entryway, only to see that all the walls had been glued with the poster.

Then she wanted to cry, because there she stood holding crushed paper in her hand, and other students were flooding in, seeing the pictures, and then looking at her, the worst part was that they then began to talk.

Rushing to the bathroom, she didn’t even realize that she brushed past Matsukawa and his friends, who were all trying to rip down as many of the pictures as quickly as possible. Oikawa sees Matsukawa hesitate, then tells him to go after her, Oikawa reassures him that he, Iwaizumi, and Hanamaki could deal with the photos (Oikawa left out saying that he was also going to find the person but then again some things could be implied with a look).

Matsukawa was crushed abysmally worse than when she said that she had just wanted to be friends, because there she was curled up on the floor of the bathroom rubbing her eyes, she wasn't quite crying but her body was shaking. He didn't know what to do, but he didn't want to mess it up.

He crouched down, and put his hand on her knee, rubbing his thumb over her kneecap.

“Hi.” He offers.

“Hey,” She uses her sleeve to rub her nose, “You do know I don't hate you right?”

He didn't believe it was even possible for her to hate anyone, “You don't hate me, you love me. It might not be all the way right now, but you do love me.”

She chuckles, pulling him down to sit with her. On the disgusting floor of the girls’ bathroom, they waited out the first class of the day, just talking. Eventually, Hanamaki texts Mattsukawa that the coast is clear. She doesn’t know what to do so she just shakes his hand and heads to her next class. He’s left stunned at the entrance of the girls’ bathroom.

It was the following weekend, the whole photo disaster had died down due to the band kids accidentally having an orgy on their trip to Tokyo. While disgusting, it made her grateful to have something else be the focus of the school than her red string.

Matsukawa was bored out of his mind, switching through TV channels. Everyone else was busy with makeup work or their families. He looked down at his hand, he moved each finger once. What was she doing? Who was she with? When would he see her again, outside of just school?

He stared at her icon in his phone, the last texts had just been her thanking him for taking down the photos and for sitting with her. He decided now was as good a time as ever.

to y/n (future wife) 🤩⭐✨💌: Do you want to come over?

to matsukawa issei 🧵🍀: Why would I come over?

to y/n (future wife) 🤩⭐✨💌: To hang out?

She was chewing the inside of her mouth. He was cleaning up the living room as quickly as he could because he had a feeling she would be coming over.

to matsukawa issei 🧵🍀: I have Oreos, you better have more snacks at your house

They didn’t expect to have such a good time together. Sitting cross-legged and across from each other on the couch, they were trying to get Oreos from their forehead to their mouths without dropping them and without using their hands. Matsukawa was surprisingly gifted at this game. She had dropped at least three Oreos, but she was having a great time with each new attempt.

“You gotta move your nose less.”

“I can do it without you coaching me!” She started laughing though, so the Oreo fell, and she made a short sound in reaction to dropping her Oreo. Falling back onto the arm of the couch she kicked her feet out and rested them in Matsukawa’s lap since he had turned around and was looking for the remote to the TV.

It was midnight and they were glued onto the movie screen, gradually, throughout the movie, they moved closer and closer until the length of their sides were touching. He was scratching her back lightly, soaking in the light hums she let out appreciatively. When one of the characters in the movie died, she asked a question.

“How many more months until school ends?”

“For break? Or the end of the year?”

“The end of the year.”

“I think like maybe four or five, we’re about halfway done.” He ate another apple slice from the apples that he had cut up and put in a bowl on the side table. She asked for one and he gave it to her.

“Okay, last day of school, we can go for it.”

“Go for it?”

She just lifted up her pinkie, the tiny red string a rich red color, a more vibrant shade than Matsukawa’s deep blood-red hue. The grin in response that he gave was astounding.

When Aoba Johsai lost to Karasuno, the third years were in shambles. It was again late at night, and Matsukawa just couldn’t help but tug on the string, he wondered if she would call him, or if she would text him telling him to stop. His insomnia got the best of him at times like these.

When his brain wouldn’t let him relax into bed and finally stop thinking. He thought of everything he could have done differently in that last game. Everything he could have done differently to make her love him just a little more, or at least for them to get closer sooner.

Then, with one text, he was opening his front door and she was hugging him so tightly he thought that his breathing would never return to normal. When her shoulder was soaked through with his tears, he gave her one of his sweaters to change into. That was probably the reason for the mental-physical connection to the string, he mused, so that when one of them needed each other, they could be there faster than fast.

The days went by, and they hung out more and more frequently. She was getting used to his personality, all sides of it. The goofy, the serious, but most importantly his ability to stay calm. She could be worried, or anxious, and he would just be there in a capacity that she didn’t understand the magnitude of.

One time, when she went on a family trip to Okinawa. And Matsukawa felt so ill that his mom just knew it was from string sickness. He felt like she must have been too far apart and suddenly waves of nausea hit him like a truck. His mom was amazed that her son was the one who got this side effect of the soul connection since she had texted L/N’s mom and asked if she was doing alright. When the result came up perfectly peachy, Matsukawa’s mom just laughed and got her son another glass of ginger ale.

He called her that night too, begging.

“You're intoxicating, I’m actually running a fever, you need to come home early.” Matsukawa wanted her back within a ten-mile range as soon as possible.

“You mean go back to my house?” She was ruffling her brother’s hair and adjusting his swim shirt for the late-night swim he wanted to go on. Rubbing sunscreen on his ears and pinching his cheek when he complained.

Matsukawa hit his head against his pillow and clarified for her, “No, I need you to come home, which is with me. I said what I meant. Keep up.”

She said she would call him again tomorrow. He was still extremely sick until she got back from her trip. And as soon as he was feeling normal again, he came over.

“You’re a terrible listener, I said to come home not go back to your house.” He tugged her hand, waving at her parents through the door. They waved back at him. She jumped a little, leaning to the side, putting on her shoes, and asking him to slow down.

To her surprise, he pushed her back up, so she was standing. He put her shoes on instead, lacing the ties just tight enough to be secure. He patted her thigh on his way to standing up again, using his head to point to his car. When they got to the park, he took her right to the swings. They weren’t swinging, just sitting on the seats and rocking slightly.

“This is for you.” He hands her a small baggie, made of velvet.

“Drugs?”

“Shut up.” He turns his face away from her, waiting for her to open the gift.

Inside the bag was a shiny small silver ring, it was understated, but the metal had been molded so there was a single knot that was meant to face upwards. She handed the ring to him. He froze for a moment before she held her hand out for him, wiggling her ring finger. He just rolled his eyes and put the ring on her.

“Great, it’s like preparation for the real thing.” She inspected the ring on her finger and Matsukawa just chuckled, shaking his head in exasperation.

“I have something for you too.” She kicks the ground a little more, actually swinging a little. “You need to close your eyes though.”

So Matsukawa holds his hand out and tightly shuts his eyes. He did not expect her to put one hand on his, holding it tightly, and then for her other hand to cup the side of his face, but he most definitely did not expect her to press her lips to his. When she goes to separate from him, he just grabs the back of her head and pushes her back to his lips.

He wishes he could go back in time to erase all other kisses from his history, he wanted this to be his first kiss, he wanted this to be the only kiss to ever have graced his senses.

He tugs the string at night. Always at night. Sometimes she just can not sleep because her finger feels the short but rough tugs. She only realizes there’s an actual communicative pattern when her teacher mentions the development of Morse code within the world, and how that completely shifted global communication.

She heads to the library, thinking there was no way that he was doing what would’ve been completely crazy. He was already in the library, in the exact aisle she wanted to go down, so she ducked and hid in the other section until she saw him leaving. She rushed to get to the book she had asked the librarian to help her find. And when she opened it, a note fell out.

Better start learning ;) - Issei <3

What a goof. It is fully believed that she never studied anything even remotely that intensively before this.

His late-night messages range from sweet genuine confessions to things so borderline toe-curling she has to stop transcribing or else her face would get too hot to live with. Most commonly, he’ll just tap out: I love you.

She knew he was an insomniac. But this was driving her crazy, to know he wouldn’t sleep, or more realistically, couldn’t sleep. She starts going over to his house most nights, just hanging out until she goes home to sleep. Matsukawa starts sleeping better and more frequently when she comes around.

“I bet I’d sleep even better if you just stayed over.” Matsukawa was pushing his luck with that one. She went home but came back with a duffel bag around fifteen minutes later.

Brushing their teeth together made her realize that she did love him back. He kept trying to talk but his mouth was full of toothpaste.

“Do you really wear a chain to bed?” She judged the silver accessory he was wearing in combination with his pajamas. He was lying against his headboard, watching her flit around his room, inspecting and assessing his things. He took the necklace off immediately and threw it under his bed.

“No idea what you’re talking about.” He blurts out. She sat down on the futon his mom laid out for her. “Yeah, you’re not sleeping on that.” Matsukawa resolves and then pats the spot next to him on his bed.

Maybe having her sleepover wasn’t the best idea, because he just wanted to stay awake talking to her and tracing shapes on her hip. But she was asleep and nuzzling into her pillow by the time he got to the part in his story about Oikawa tripping over a volleyball when he saw that Hanamaki and Iwaizumi were wearing crop tops for a joke at practice. He tucked a hair behind her ear and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her into him. He claimed that that was the best night's sleep in his whole life.

His mom also came in around 3 am just to make sure nothing that would cause her to be a grandma prematurely was occurring, and all she saw was her son holding his soulmate like a teddy bear. The pictures of them sleeping were well worth all the years she spent dealing with not only her insomnia but Issei’s as well.

Matsukawa’s mom had sent the photos to Y/N before her son. So when Matsukawa was messing around on Y/N’s phone, he was very pleasantly informed to see the two of them sleeping as her lock screen, and then a photo of their shoes facing each other as her home screen.

When it was time to grow up, say goodbye, and move on, Matsukawa could not have been happier. How could he not when Y/N gladly held his hand in public during all the various graduation activities? Hanamaki joked that he had never seen Matsukawa smile longer than two seconds at max, and now here he was smiling like an idiot because the girl he liked was holding his hand and pressing kisses to the corner of his mouth.

The rest of his life went pretty great. Getting married practically right out of high school (much to her chagrin, but hey, she didn’t say no when he proposed so that’s her fault), working at a funeral home which meant helping people move on and understanding that life continues even when it feels like it shouldn’t, and one of the best parts of being with his soulmate was getting much better sleep.

bonus thought...

might need a man who works in a funeral home after this

https://youtu.be/A77PnWNmeqY?si=5azlWNgcizMS1m39 (for the music lovers who need a late night jam fr fr)

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ikeepwatchinghelicopters · 1 year ago

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Random thought: A Witcher AU where Jaskier is an actor and Geralt does historical european martial arts (I hope that's the correct term; basically he's an expert on old styles of sword fighting). Jaskier gets a role in a big movie set in historical or fantasy setting and he must learn how to wield a sword. At least a bit. Cue Geralt and lots and lots of lessons where Jaskier trying to focus very hard because he's supposed to be a professional, but also mostly failing because Geralt's just way too hot.

#the witcher #geralt of rivia #jaskier #geraskier #maybe jaskier would need to ride a horse too #and since geralt is a horse girl he could teach him #jaskier isn't sure if he's happy about more lessons with geralt or not #more time with geralt means more unrequited pining #(but is it really unrequited?)#anyways #as always #feel free to adopt the au #random thought #fic idea

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fudgesoup · 2 months ago

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Between the Pages and Blueprints

Chapter 1: A Flower Blooms

Robin realizes her true emotions when it comes to a goofball cyborg.

Rated: Mature - 2.5k - Nico Robin x Franky

current chapter | Next Chapter | AO3 | Masterlist

Tags:

One Piece, Wano, Frobin, Nico Robin x Franky, Alternate Universe, AU, Fluff, Falling In Love, Secret Relationship, Mutual Pining, Eventual Smut, Implied Relationships, Jealousy, Jealous!Roronoa Zoro, Jealous!Franky, Unrequited Love, Misunderstandings, Inner Dialogue, Funny, Trauma, One Piece Universe, Nico Robin Needs a Hug, UsoNa, Usopp x Nami

After a struggle that seemed as if it would last a lifetime, the battle for Wano was won… Luffy and his crew, along with the samurai alliance, prevailed in their fight against Kaido and Orochi's army. With Wano free, Momonosuke rose to power and restored the Kozuki clan's honor, along with his country's hopes and dreams. Tonight, it seemed like the festivities would continue until everyone had their fill, free to do as they pleased.

What had been planned as a single-day fire festival soon expanded into a multi-day celebration, a joyous commemoration of Wano’s liberation from the tyrannical grip of suffering. The people of the island rejoiced in the streets, their laughter echoing through the air, lanterns glowing against the night sky like stars brought down to earth. The scent of grilled food, sweet sake, and burning incense permeated the air as Momonosuke, alongside the Straw Hat crew and his retainers, indulged in the freedom they had fought so hard to secure. It was a festival for the ages, meant to honor the fallen and the living, where the “heroes” of Wano could join in once their battered bodies allowed them to.

But while the island celebrated, reveling in their newfound freedom, there was one person who couldn’t quite join in, one whose chest still clenched tightly with lingering pain, her mind weighed down by memories that had not yet loosened their grip. Nico Robin had done her best to maintain her composure throughout the day, smiling when needed, offering polite conversations when approached. Yet, beneath the surface, the emotions she had bottled up were threatening to overflow.

As the merriment reached an all time high in the main dining area, Robin felt herself growing more and more detached from the festive atmosphere around her. The lively chatter and the constant movement became too much. Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, each one more oppressive than the last, and her chest tightened with an invisible weight she could no longer ignore.

She needed to get away.

In a moment of quiet resolve, she slipped from her seat, unnoticed by the others who were too engrossed in the party to see her go. Robin moved gracefully through the main dining hall area, her expression calm despite the inner turmoil she was trying so desperately to conceal. The clinking of cups, the hearty laughter, and the occasional bursts of music became distant as she retreated further and further from the crowd. The vibrant glow of lanterns faded as she made her way through the dim corridors of the hall, seeking refuge in the quieter corners of the building.

Finally, she found a small room tucked away from the celebrations. The door creaked softly as she pushed it open, stepping into the cool, shadowed space. It was dimly lit by a single paper lantern, its soft glow casting flickering shadows across the room’s sparse furnishings: a low table, a few cushions, and a screen door that led out to a quiet garden. The room had an air of serenity about it, a peaceful solitude that sharply contrasted the lively atmosphere just outside. But for Robin, it was a haven, a place where she could finally breathe.

She closed the door behind her, the muffled sounds of the festival in the distance. The silence of the room wrapped around her like a comforting blanket, but it also brought with it the thoughts she had been trying to escape. Her heart, which had been pounding all day with the weight of unprocessed fear and grief, now thudded heavily in her chest.

Robin moved slowly toward the center of the room, her knees feeling weak as she knelt on the floor. She placed a hand over her chest, as if trying to physically calm the storm of emotions swirling inside her. The flickering lantern light reflected in her dark eyes as she stared at the floor, her thoughts once again drifting to Kaido’s burning castle, the suffocating heat of the flames, and the chilling moment when CP-0 had appeared from the smoke.

She was defenseless after her battle with Black Maria, her stamina drained to the very edge. And then they had come for her, the agents, faceless and merciless, determined to capture her. It had all happened so fast, her limbs heavy with exhaustion, her mind screaming at her to run, to fight, but her body had been paralyzed by fatigue. She would have been taken, dragged away into the clutches of the World Government, had it not been for Brook. He had protected her, his calm presence a lifeline amidst the chaos, guiding her to safety even as the castle crumbled around them.

But even now, safe from danger, the old wounds resurfaced. The terror of being hunted, the memories of CP-9, the despair she had felt during the Water 7/ Enies Lobby incident, and the haunting fear of losing everything and everyone all over again. Those scars were fresh, bleeding beneath the surface of her calm exterior. Her body trembled slightly as she knelt there, the room’s quiet stillness contrasting the storm brewing inside her.

Her breath came in shallow, uneven gasps, and she wrapped her arms tightly around herself, as if she could hold herself together through sheer willpower. She bent forward, her forehead nearly touching the floor as her sobs, so carefully suppressed, finally broke free. Her mind was a blur of memories, each one sharper than the last: her mother’s final words, Saul’s laughter before he was silenced forever, the cold, hollow feeling of losing everything.

But then, through the darkness of her thoughts, a voice echoed in her mind. A voice she had not expected to hear at such a moment.

"No matter how dangerous you may be, just being alive, being who you are, is never wrong!"

She clung to those words like a lifeline.

Franky's voice suddenly cutting through the haze of her distress. It was strange—his voice wasn’t actually in the room with her, yet it had settled at the very center of her thoughts, clear and reassuring.

Franky…

The mere thought of him brought a wave of warmth that dulled the sharp edges of her panic. Slowly, her mind shifted away from the pain and toward him. His vibrant blue hair—so unique, so utterly Franky—flashed in her memory, and she found herself smiling, despite everything. Then came the image of his physique, a striking mix of power and sleek engineering, and with it, the bold, larger-than-life personality that made him stand out in a world full of extraordinary people.

As she thought about him, the tightness in her chest began to ease. Her heart, which had been racing with anxiety moments ago, now pounded with something else entirely: excitement. It amazed her how just thinking about him could chase away the shadows, and could lift the crushing weight off her chest. Franky had always been different, a person who managed to make her feel grounded, even amidst the chaos.

While the entire crew had fought to save her, there was something about Franky that had carved out a special place in her heart. She remembered how he’d put himself on the line for her, taking bullets without a second thought, shielding her with his body as though it was the most natural thing in the world. His concern for her had been so genuine, so selfless, and though they hadn’t known each other long, she felt a connection to him that went deeper than she could explain. There was also his morality that stood out to her, back in Dressrosa he swore to fight alongside the Tontattas in their revolution against the Donquixote family no matter what.

From that moment on, Franky stood out in ways she hadn’t fully acknowledged until now. She recalled the first time they brought him aboard the crew. She’d strong-armed him—literally—when the opportunity arose, grabbing him by the balls to force him to join. At the time, she hadn’t known why she felt so compelled to keep him close, but now it seemed obvious. Something inside her had known even then that she didn’t want him far from her.

As these thoughts caressed her, Robin could almost feel his presence beside her. She replayed the way his eyes had met hers in the past, the steady reassurance in his gaze before he snapped into his larger-than-life self. Her heart fluttered again, and she realized her hands were trembling slightly. What was this feeling? She couldn’t quite place it, but whatever it was, she didn’t want it to end.

Franky was rough around the edges, yes, but there was a warmth beneath the bravado that Robin had always sensed. His laughter was full-bodied, like he put his entire soul into it. He had a passion for everything he did, a reckless joy for life that she found intoxicating. Deep down, she had always cared for him, though she had never allowed herself to explore those feelings beyond the bounds of friendship. He was her crewmate, her friend. And yet, the way she felt about him was beginning to feel like so much more.

But that terrified her.

Robin had lost too much already: her mother, Saul, the island of Ohara. The fear of attachment had kept her guarded, she was a one point distant even from her crewmates. She had worn an air of aloofness, presenting herself as the mysterious scholar, the composed archaeologist. Inside however, she was anything but. The thought of getting too close to someone, of letting herself care—it filled her with a crippling anxiety. What if she lost him? What if Franky became another person she loved only to see ripped away?

She had told herself for so long that it was better to keep her distance, to protect her heart from that kind of pain. But here she was, sitting in the dimly lit room, feeling her heart race not from fear, but from the rush of emotions she could no longer deny. She trusted her crewmates with all her being, every single one of them, she had for a while now, and just as she went running to help Sanji in need, she was going to have to do the same for herself: and trust in her feelings.

Robin slowly sat up, her body no longer hunched over in despair. She adjusted her position, crossing her legs and resting her hands in her lap. Her breathing was still a little shaky, her heart still thudding heavily in her chest, but it was no longer the suffocating panic from before. Her spirit felt lighter than air now as she finally let go of the small portion of fear she had been holding on to.

Franky… What is it about you that makes me feel so strange?

Robin's thoughts swirled, trying to pin down exactly what it was about him that stirred this unfamiliar sensation inside her. Was it the way he carried himself, so confident? Or was it his genius, his knack for innovating everything around him? Or maybe it was that strange, boyish sense of wonder he seemed to carry, mixed with his occasional bursts of immaturity. She chuckled softly, her lips curling into a smirk as she fondly recalled the ridiculous moment when Franky had flown away using nothing but farts powered by cola. He could be so absurd—and yet, somehow, that only made him more endearing.

Memories began to flood her mind all at once, the small moments they had shared over time. The meals together, the way he’d playfully carry her like a queen without a second thought, the countless times he had shielded her from danger, guiding her to safety. A wave of warmth spread through her, washing away the last remnants of her earlier panic. In this quiet moment, she realized something that made her chest flutter—she wanted more. She wanted to be held by him again, to share more meals, more laughter, to be adored by him the way he always seemed to adore her.

"WOAH! Now who is that gorgeous lady!" His booming voice echoed in her head, filling her with a burst of joy. He had always seen her as beautiful, always accepted her for who she was. It wasn’t just the admiration in his words but the genuine warmth behind them. Franky wasn’t someone who said things lightly. When he called her beautiful, he meant it with his whole heart. And now, in this moment of clarity, Robin allowed herself to give in, to let her thoughts run wild with the possibilities.

For so long, she had carried the weight of her past, of loss and heartache. But now, as she let her mind linger on Franky, the pain of those old memories began to fade, replaced by a gentle, glowing hope.

She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, savoring the cool air as it filled her lungs. As she let it out, a sense of release washed over her. The tension she had been holding on to for so long finally began to melt away. And in that quiet moment, she came face-to-face with a truth she had been denying for far too long.

“I love him.”

The realization struck her like a tidal wave, overwhelming at first. She sat there for a moment, stunned, as the weight of it settled in. But as the words sank deeper, a smile crept across her face: wide, bright, and uncontainable. She tried to cover her mouth with her hand, but her joy bubbled up inside her, spilling out in soft giggles that soon grew louder.

"I... I’m in love with Franky," she whispered, her voice tinged with disbelief.

The sheer abruptness of the realization left her speechless for a moment. Her usually fair complexion flushed with a deep rose tint, spreading quickly across her cheeks. She had never, in her wildest dreams, imagined falling in love. Love wasn’t something she had ever thought possible for her—not with her history, not with the walls she had built around herself. It had always felt like something distant, something meant for other people. But now, the undeniable truth of her feelings was staring her in the face, impossible to ignore.

Can we truly be together? she wondered, the question lingering in her mind like a half-formed dream. Could someone like her, with so much darkness in her past, really be with someone as bright and open as Franky?

Slowly, Robin rose from the cold floor, her movements deliberate and measured. The room around her felt smaller now, as if the space itself was shrinking beneath the weight of her new realization. She couldn’t stay hidden away any longer, not with this truth hanging in the air.

With a newfound resolve, she stepped toward the door, her heart pounding in her chest. The next move was hers to make. If she was going to let Franky into her life, into her heart, she needed to know more, needed to see how he felt, if there was a real future for them.

Robin stepped out of the secluded room, leaving behind the shadows of her past. She would find him, talk to him, because if anyone could help her navigate this new, strange feeling, it was the man with the bright blue hair and the even brighter heart.

Notes:

Thank you for reading chapter 1!! I plan for this fic to be a good length, I’m refining chapter 2, so it will be up soon!

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cherryeol04 · 5 months ago

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Favor

➻ Pairings: Minho-centric, implied minchan, implied minsung

➻ Genre: humor, fantasy au, magic au

➻ Additional:

➻ Word Count: 6.2k

➻ Warnings: Attempted character death, minor character death

➻ Author’s notes: This story is cross posted on multiple sites under the same username!

“Gil is still on the loose.”

Minho had to hold back the audible sigh that threatened to escape him, eyes rolling unintentionally. He just couldn’t help it! It was the same old story he heard in all the classes he has taken about magic. Granted they are all stories about magic users, but it didn’t make it any less redundant. Humans and magic usually didn’t mix well, or so history has shown. Minho wasn’t sure of the accuracy of these historical accounts but it’s not like he could refute any of them. All he knew was that white magic was good, black/dark magic was bad and humans generally hated magic users for a plethora of reasons.

Okay, so maybe hate was a strong word. Distrust was probably more accurate and Minho could understand - to a point - their reasoning. Hell, he hated magic too! Magic being ‘bad’ was the general consensus that was being drilled into their heads, which was fine. What Minho didn’t understand was why every course on magic - most required - had to repeat the same material, nearly word for word from each other. He thought that at least one course would touch on the subject of how to defend against magic, or how to protect against curses and hexes.

But no. Every course simply taught about all the horrible and tyrannical magic users of olden days and the reasons why the enforcers were created, as well as how to overall avoid any magic user at all cost.

It was monotonous and boring and Minho couldn’t believe he was wasting his hard earned money on this bullshit.

‘Two more semesters and you can start fresh. Just two more semesters.’

It was a mantra he had to keep repeating to himself. He could do this!

“Tomorrow we’ll cover the Great Siege.”

Minho absolutely couldn’t stop the long groan of exasperation that escaped him. Thankfully, it was covered up by the sounds of chair legs scraping across linoleum floors as students started packing up and leaving. It took Minho a hot second before he started to follow, taking his time packing in order to let the room empty out. It wasn’t like he had anywhere important to be anyway. Tuesdays were his slow days. One class - which he absolutely despised - in the morning and the rest of the day was void of any socialization.

Usually.

There are some days where Minho is feeling particularly masochistic and would visit the Maxident Cafe across the street from the campus. It was a bustling little homely establishment that always brought a sense of warmth and familiarity to him, but Minho could never figure out as to why. However, Minho had long since learned that questioning things were futile and to just accept things as they were. It caused less of a headache that way.

Today, Minho was feeling masochistic.

The fairy shaped wind chimes sounded as he pushed open the door to the cafe - face hit with the most delicious smells Minho ever had the pleasure of sniffing. ‘Felix must be working today.’

“Welcome in!”

Speaking of the devil, Minho smiled, a soft greeting falling from his lips as he stared at Felix. The brunette was carefully stocking their display shelves with freshly baked goods. “Hey Felix.”

“Hyung!” Felix shot up, nearly dropping his tray in the process. He fumbled with and luckily caught it before it could fall to the floor. He was so adorable. “You didn’t see that.” Felix shot him a pointed glare and Minho laughed, shaking his head.

“Oh, I saw all of it.” he teased with a wink, approaching the counter. The flirtatious teasing had Felix flushing a pretty pink that accentuated the freckles that littered his round cheeks - adding to his beauty. Minho could honestly get lost staring at him.

“Dang it.” Felix pouted, setting his tray down on. He wiped his hands on his apron before turning his full attention to Minho. “Oh well.” he shrugged. “What can I get for you today?”

“A date.”

Felix blinked rapidly a few times, mimicking Minho’s own stare, as he processed the words that left the older male’s mouth. “Hyung!” he whined, another pout gracing his features. “Hyunjin isn’t here today.” he muttered almost sadly. Minho scoffed at the rebuttal. Not that he had anything against the male. Hyunjin was tall, gorgeous and a delight to be around - most of the time - but Felix was definitely more of Minho’s style. Small, cute and easily flustered. Felix also had this uncanny ability to just radiate sunshine and happiness and it was that pure goodness that attracted Minho to him. While the darkness inside him loved to hiss and writhe - like a dramatic diva - for being in the vicinity as Felix, the goodness in him scrambled to cling to the light - to draw from the energy he needed to keep going; to stay good.

He really was masochistic.

“You say that as if I care.” Minho smirked as he leaned against the counter, eyes locked with Felix’s pretty brown orbs - watching as they shook, unable to hold his gaze. “In which, I do not.” Felix cocked his head, batting his lashes in confusion and Minho just wanted to coo at him. A ridiculous notion. He reserved that type of behavior for his cats. Though, Felix could probably pass for a cat if he tried. “If I wanted to date Hyunjin, I would.” And he left it at that. He wasn't sure if Felix understood what he meant by that, but it didn’t matter really. Eventually he would, or least Minho hoped he would. “I’ll take my usual.”

Eyes brightening, Felix rang Minho up and after paying, the younger ran to get started on his drink, the two falling into the familiar pattern of barista/patron. AS he waited, Minho let his eyes wander over the crowded floors of the cafe, students happily chatting away or focused on their laptop screens, showing more dedication to their coursework than Minho had in his pinkie finger. It was a life Minho couldn’t get behind. Of course, it’s not like would purposefully fall behind on coursework or just fail his classes.

Absolutely not!

He had spent way too much money on his education to waste it. But that didn’t mean the thought of working didn’t disgust him. And perhaps he would have more motivation if the subject matter was more interesting. He took these magic courses because he wanted to learn more about magic. He wanted to learn about the history of it - where it came from, or how it was passed down through the generations. He didn’t want to be put through the hell of hearing the same iterations of stories with only minor changes.

“Here you go hyung!” Minho stared at Felix, refusing to acknowledge how the other startled him. Felix stared at him expectantly and Minho glanced down at the cup between them - so innocuous. Taking the cup, he took a quick sip - face schooled but inside he was screaming as he burnt his tongue. A stupid mistake to make. Of course the drink would be hot, what else had he been expecting? “Good?” Felix asked.

“Delicious.” Minho forced out, hoping his words weren’t as slurred as he thought they were as his tongue was numb. “Thanks for the drink, Lixie. I’ll see you later.” Making a not-so-grand exit, Minho headed back to his apartment, intent to spend the rest of his day curled up on the couch with his cats, watching whatever drama he could feasibly binge watch in an afternoon. It sounded like heaven and was probably the main reason the normally 10 minute commute only toko 5 minutes.

Upon entering his apartment, he was greeted to a chorus of meows as three furry bodies rubbed against his legs. “Hello babies. Did you miss me?” he asked, smiling as he received more meows in response. Minho was sure they weren’t actually talking to him, but it was fun to think that. Though if they could talk, he was sure he would hear nothing but complaints about how they wanted more food, even though he fed them before he left for class that morning. Shaking his head, he shuffled further inside, careful to not lift his feet fully off the floor in fear of stepping on one of his babies.

“You know.” he started, sending the three cats a frustrated glare. “This would go faster if you weren’t trying to trip me.” he huffed. Though he knew they weren’t trying to actually trip him, he did find it ironically hilarious that as soon as he made that comment, the three cats wandered off. Such a convenient coincidence. “Thank you.”

Unobstructed, Minho headed into the kitchen and against his better judgment, he fixed three bowls of cat food, setting them down in their normal spots by the fridge. “Soonie, Doongie, Dori!” It took a moment, but eventually two orange cats emerged, followed by a gray tabby that trotted over to their dishes and eagerly devoured their food. “So spoiled.”

Cat dad duties finished, Minho headed back into the living room and plopped down on the couch with a heavy sigh. He wasn’t sure why he still felt so frustrated. He knew the feeling stemmed from the story covered in class but usually seeing Felix and getting his favorite coffee always made him feel better. Today it just didn’t seem to be working. Running a hand through his hair, he sighed once again. Grabbing the remote, he turned on the TV and scrolled through the channels until he landed on a drama that barely caught his interest, mind still a jumbled mess.

Lost in his thoughts, Minho jumped when his phone started ringing, eyes wide as he stared at the offending device. Quickly, his eyes scanned the room, landing on Doongie as the orange cat sat in the corner, watching him with an interested gaze. “You saw nothing.” he warned, the feline yawning in response before curling up and laying down. Talking to the cats was an odd habit surely, but it did help to keep Minho from feeling lonely. With a grunt, Minho grabbed his phone, which had started ringing for a second time. “Hello?”

“Minnie~” Minho cringed at the sickenly sweet coo, mentally kicking himself for taking the call. “What are you doing?”

“Watching TV.”

“So nothing then?” Jungkook.

“No, I’m watching TV.” he corrected with a scoff.

“Perfect! We’re having a gathering tonight and we would love it if you came.”

Minho mulled over the offering carefully. He really didn’t feel like going out and socializing, but he knew gatherings like these were usually fun and filled with people that Minho could tolerate for the most part. “Who is ‘we’?”

“Oh, you know…”

No, he in fact, didn’t know and Minho hated how vague Jungkook was being, but that was to be expected from the socialite. No information given, but he could surprisingly convince anyone to go anywhere and do just about anything. “I’ll be there, Seonghwa -” He started listing off names, but truth be told Minho tuned him out, not at all interested. At least, not until a specific name was listed. “Irene, Chan -”

“Chan’s going?” Minho straightened on the couch and if he were a cat, his ears would have twitched with interest. Jungkook laughed at that and a spike of embarrassment coursed through Minho. However, his curiosity was too great to let him dwell on that for very long.

“Of course that’s the only name you would care about.”

“Arguably the only one to care about.” Minho retorted with a shrug. He pointedly ignored teh scoff on the other end. “What time?”

“7pm.”

“Ugh, really?”

“What? Past your bedtime grandpa?” Minho snorted, rolling his eyes.

“Some of us have class in the morning, slacker.”

“Yeah, but Chan will be there.” And that was such a tempting offer, and Jungkook knew it. The self made Soundcloud producer was such eye candy and a sweetheart to boot. Even with the minimal interaction Minho had with Chan was enough to have him swooning and falling head over heels for the man. Hell, Minho practically tripped over himself once to try and get a moment alone with Chan. Could he really pass up another opportunity to see him?

No way in hell.

“I’ll come.”

“Great! So we’ll-” Minho ended the call mid sentence, knowing full well Jungkook would text him the info later. Dropping the phone on the couch, he let his head fall back, feeling so mentally drained from the call. There was something off about the day. His mood just didn’t feel right and it upset him as much as it concerned him. He normally had a steady plateau of emotion, fluctuating only occasionally and in short bursts. To ping pong between emotions and have none of his normal soothing items help calm him down, it was strange. Hopefully, seeing chan and being around others would fix whatever was broken.

-----------

The one thing Minho hated most about Jungkook and his “gatherings” was the fact they always included magic of some sort. Usually Jungkook or someone close to him would perform some childish magic trick that still enraptured everyone. And while all the magic users usually invited were white magic users, that never stopped Enforcers from showing up. The magic cops loved to show off their status at any given point - the white starburst badges pinned to their right shoulder sleeve. At least it made it easy for Minho to identify and steer clear of them. He had never had an actual encounter with an enforcer, other than a passing glance. Yet he had an instinctual fear of them and he did his best to avoid them like the plague. Parties were no different.

After grabbing a drink from the kitchen, Minho made his way back into the living room and made himself comfy on one of the couches. He scanned the crowded room, watching bodies as they grinded together on the makeshift dance floor. Normally Minho would join in, letting the music take over his body - releasing all his worries and stress as he lost himself to the rhythm of the beat. But not today. Not when he knew Chan was going to be there. He would have ample enough time to dance, but the chance to talk with Chan was few and far between. Besides, if he was lucky, maybe he could convince Chan to have a dance… or five. It was a solid plan and all Minho had to do was be patient.

But he was far from being a patient man.

As the night wore on, he was becoming extremely antsy for Chan’s arrival. His spot on the couch had the perfect view of the front door and anyone who walked in. At least a dozen or so people came and went, and with each new arrival, Minho’s hopes were crushed a little more.

Four drinks and two hours later, Minho wandered back into the kitchen, intent to get another drink. His mind was already feeling fuzzy, but thankfully the ground wasn’t moving yet. He could handle one or two more drinks before he needed to go home. The kitchen was a mess. Empty beer cans and soda bottles littered the floor. Half empty liquor bottles were scattered across various counters and the center island. The room itself was empty except for one person by the fridge. Minho had a witty comment on the tip of his tongue but it disappeared as he spotted the starburst patch on the right shirt sleeve. Every instinct in his body kicked in and his brain was screaming at him to turn tail and run away - which he did. But just as he was leaving, he heard an all too familiar voice.

“Minho, hey!”

Minho paused and against his better judgment, he turned around. His eyes landed on Chan’s beautiful face, a smile so wide and pure that this entire scenario seemed surreal.

“Chan,” he breathed. “When did you get here?”

It was a stupid question. Or rather, the question wasn’t stupid, just the fact that Minho insisted on holding a conversation was stupid. It didn’t matter when Chan arrived, but when did he become an enforcer? Last he checked, enforcers had to have some sort of white magic in them and Chan was human! There was not an ounce of white magic residing in him. Of course, it wasn’t unheard of that humans could be enforcers, but the humans tended to be part of archiving and trials. Their badges - according to historians - were different. The starbursts were only for enforcers who actively patrolled and enforced the laws. So why did Chan - pure, loving, kind hearted Chan - have the starburst?

“A bit ago. Jungkook had me held hostage out front.” he chuckled as if that explained everything.

It explained absolutely nothing!

In fact, it only added to Minho’s confusion. Had Jungkook known all along about Chan’s new position in life? It’s not like the older man wasn’t aware of Minho’s dislike for the enforcers.

“O-Oh.” How lame, but what else could he say? There were plenty of things Minho wanted to ask but he wasn’t sure he could ask them without risk of giving away his secret. And he couldn’t do that, not now that he knew Chan was one of them. The silence between them felt weighted and awkward.

“Yeah.” Chan nodded and smiled. “As you can see, I was appointed as an enforcer today.” Chan turned to show off the badge, smiling so widely like he was ecstatic, and he probably was. Minho couldn’t blame him for that.

“I didn’t know you could use magic.” It was the first thing to pop into his mind and honestly a question he wanted an answer to.

Chan frowned, cocking his head. “You didn’t? I thought for sure you knew. My dad is the current general.”

Minho’s eyes widened at the news, chest tightening with an indescribable feeling. He couldn’t believe this. Chan came from a long line of enforcers. He used magic. He was everything Minho had wanted in a partner and in a matter of seconds the perfect fantasy world he had created came crashing down around him.

Minho swallowed thickly, fighting back the urge to cry. “I didn’t know.”

“Oh. Well now you do, I guess.” Chan shrugged. “Cool right? Also, thanks for coming to my celebration.”

“Y-Your celebration?!” As if this couldn’t get any worse. This entire party was to celebrate Chan becoming an enforcer. This was devastating.

“Yeah! When I told Jungkook, he insisted on throwing-” Chan paused, eyeing Minho carefully. “Are you okay, Min?”

Minho felt like the world was spinning and he was going to pass out at any given moment. There was just too much information to process and it felt like the universe was out to get him. “I have to go.” Dropping his cup on the counter, Minho turned and made a hasty exit out of the kitchen and the house, ignoring Chan’s call for him to come back. There was no way Minho could go back and face him. He was nothing but a bundle of emotions now - a swirling mass of negativity the likes he had never felt before.

It was horrible. There was an icky heavy feeling washing over him - his limbs feeling heavy with each step he took. It almost felt like a pressure building and looking for a way to escape, and Minho would be more than happy to release it from his body. Glancing down at his hands - where were feeling a bit tingly - he stopped dead in his tracks, shocked at what he saw. The tips of his fingers were oozing an inky blackness that he had only seen happen once before.

“Shit. Not now.” he whined, trying to wipe his hands clean, but of course that did nothing. He couldn’t just wipe away magic so easily. Worried, Minho looked around, taking in his surroundings. While it wasn’t busy out, the sidewalk was still occupied by a good number of passersby, all of which posed a threat to Minho. His heart raced as he tried to figure out what his next move should be, because there was no way he could stay out in the open with black magic oozing from his fingers.

Doing a once over again, Minho spotted and alley opening and quickly ducked inside. He needed to figure out a way to get home without being seen because he was absolutely sure he wouldn't be able to wrangle in his magic - not with the whirlwind of emotions currently coursing through him. The side of town he was currently on was one he was familiar with - thankfully - but he had never traversed the back alleys before. He had no idea which alley connected to the next or if any of them could lead him back to his apartment. But he had to try and figure it out. The longer he remained outside, the higher the risk of being caught became.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, Minho started down the alleyway, vigilant of his surroundings. The further he moved in, the darker it became. It unnerved him how the light from the streets on either end couldn’t seem to penetrate the darkness of the place. It was quite eerie and if Minho wasn’t so worried about his life, he probably would have turned tail and ran.

“Get away from me! Stop!” Minho froze at the cry, blood running cold. It came from right in front of him and Minho was terrified to take another step forward. Yet something inside him was telling him that he needed to go investigate - to help whoever was in trouble. It was an absurd idea and yet his feet carried him onward as if on autopilot and the horrific scene he came across was sickening to bear witness to. There were two men, one on the ground - probably the man that had begged for his life. The other man hovered over the fallen man, a dark aura surrounding him. It had Minho shivering and he could feel the dark energy within him reaching out, trying to merge with it.

Another dark magic user.

A companion…

Minho shook his head, focusing on pulling his magic back. He couldn’t let them combine. He wasn’t like that - didn’t want to use his magic to hurt innocent people. That wasn’t the type of person he was! But he also wasn’t the type of person to stick his nose in situations that didn’t involve him. However, could he really turn the other cheek and just pretend that he hadn’t seen this? If this man died, mentally and emotionally his blood would be on Minho’s hands. And despite how strong he believed he was, Minho wasn’t sure he could live with that knowledge. In a split second decision Minoh thrust his hand forward, expelling the black magic that, up until now, had been dying to be set free. The force of the expulsion sent the attacker flying back - knocking him into the concrete wall a few feet away. A heavy tension filled the air as he waited for the man to get back up.

He didn’t.

In fact, he didn’t move at all and Minho feared maybe he had somehow killed the guy. “Oh shit.” he whispered, already taking a few steps closer.

“Don’t!” The warning gave Minho pause and he turned his attention to the man he had just saved. In the dim lighting of the alleyway Minho couldn’t really make out any features, though he sounded young - probably around Minho’s age or younger. The survivor’s attention was still focused on his attacker, however, and Minho turned back towards the fallen man, ready to go help despite the warning he had been given. But the man’s body was gone.

“What the hell?”

“Black magic.” Well yeah. Clearly the man had been a black magic user. But that honestly wasn’t a great excuse for the disappearance. Minho was pretty sure that all magic users had the ability to disappear - teleport in a way. It seemed a little stereotypical to just group that magical action with black magic users, even if he was correct about this particular situation. Minho wanted to be upset- outraged even, but as the anger was bubbling up inside him, the other man finally got up and walked over to him. “Thank you.”

It felt like a punch to the gut while simultaneously all the energy had been zapped out of his body. Now up close, Minho could out the most beautiful brown eyes he had ever had the pleasure of staring at. Adorable chubby cheeks also adorned his equally adorable looking face. Minho was sure he had been correct in his assumption that this guy was young. He was young and beautiful and Minho had the passing thought of wondering if he was single.

“My name’s Jisung.” The handsome man - Jisung - introduced himself and Minho became extremely aware of the awkward staring he was doing. Blinking rapidly a few times, Minho cleared his throat, the tips of his ears heating up slightly.

“Minho.”

Jisung smiled. “Well Minho, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Wish it was under different circumstances.”

“Likewise.” Minho looked Jisung over again, trying to get a better sense of the person standing before him, but could hardly make out anything in the dark alleyway. “So what exactly did I stumble upon?”

“Upset patron.” Jisung laughed as if he hadn’t just been moments away from dying.

“That sucks. Guess he’ll be leaving a bad yelp review.” Minho joked and Jisung laughed once more. “Are you okay, though?” It was probably something that he should have asked earlier.

“Me?” Jisung asked and Minho wanted to roll his eyes. That was such a stupid question, but he held his tongue. “Yeah, I’m fine.” he confirmed with a shrug.

“Oh, good.” A blanket of awkwardness fell over them and Minho wasn’t sure what to do to fix it. It was a new situation that he never thought he would be in, so he was a little socially inapt with how to deal with it. It’s not like this was a movie and now that he saved someone’s life, they’re going to fall madly in love and live happily ever after. In fact, it was probably better that they parted ways and never see each other again. There was less of a risk of being found out that way. Minho was just thankful that Jisung hadn’t seemed to notice the type of magic he used.

“Well, this is awkward.”

Was this guy inside his head?! As far as Minho knew, there weren’t any minder readers. That wasn’t a power that even existed. Maybe it was just a coincidence?

“Yeah.” Another lame answer, but words were failing him at the moment.

“Well, I hate to cut this short, but I should get going.” Jisung flashed him a smile. “Thank you again for saving me, Minho. Maybe one day I’ll be able to return the favor.”

“Yeah, hopefully not, but maybe.” Minho agreed. Taking a few steps back, Minho gave a slight bow and Jisung returned it. “Bye Jisung.”

“See ya.”

Minho took his heave first, exiting the alleyway only to realize how late it was. The streetlights were on and the road barren save for a random car passing every now and again. And despite the darkness, the air outside was hot and humid.

Disgusting.

And the black magic still swirling inside him only added to that disgusted feeling. It was way too wound up and excited after coming across another black magic user. He hated how sick it made him feel and once more Minho was cursing his birth givers. He couldn’t even call them his parents because they gave him up at birth and cursed him with the life he had now. He hated it - hated them. Everything wrong in his life was their fault. He couldn’t only hope they were already dead, otherwise if he ever met them -

He paused, shaking his head to try and clear his thoughts. That was a dark train he went on and definitely not who he was. The influence of the black magic was starting to get to him. He needed to get home as soon as possible so he could safely expel it before he did something he’d regret. Minho had spent far too long concealing himself to let it all go to waste because of a heroic good deed.

-----

3 months, 15 days and 5 hours. That’s how long it’s been since the incident in the alleyway and since then, Minho has been constantly running into Jisung. It was strange, because he had never seen the squirely boy before and Minho liked to think that he was decently social. Sure he didn’t have many close friends - none really - but he knew a lot of people and got invited to a lot of events and parties and Jisung had never been someone he’d crossed paths with before. It was almost comical how frequently Minho saw the other, so it was only inevitable they started to hang out. Jisung was a decent guy and very easy to get along with. Dare he even think that Jisung was his “person”.

And maybe it was this blossoming friendship that distracted Minho. Kept him focused on a future he wanted and not the life he was living. Maybe he would have noticed sooner, the issue bubbling just under the surface. Maybe he could have prevented it from happening.

Maybe…

Stupid! He was so stupid! Minho should have known better than to stay out when he was feeling so bad. It wasn’t like this was the first time his powers got out of control, though maybe it would be his last. The thought terrified him, but not as much as the enforcers that were chasing him.

“Stop Minho!” Chan shouted from behind and Minho probably would have stopped if it weren’t for the beam of magic that went flying past him, just barely missing him. “Don’t make this harder for yourself!”

“Oh yea. Because giving up would be so much easier!” Minho sassed. He yelped as another beam was shot at him, nicking his calf and causing him to stumble. His legs gave out from under him, body collapsing as he tried to catch his breath. Everything hurt - his eyes were crossing and his ears were ringing as the world spun. A shadow loomed over him and panic coursed through his body. He tried to scramble to his feet, but pain shot up his leg, stopping him.

“I told you to just stop.” Chan’s once sweet voice was hardened, sharp. Minho held back the whimper that tried to crawl out of his throat. A foot pressed against his side and with a hard nudge he was unceremoniously kicked onto his back. “Tears won’t help an abomination like you.” Minho wasn’t even aware he had been crying. His heart shattered into pieces as the hurtful words washed over him. This wasn’t Chan. Chan was sweet and kind and wouldn’t hurt a fly. However, Chan was also an enforcer and as painful as it was to admit, Minho knew that there had to be a small piece of malice in him. It was the only reasoning he could come up with as to why Chan could be this mean and hateful to someone who was different.

“Please.” he whispered, almost begging, but all he was greeted with was a hateful stare and Chan’s glowing hand.

“You know how this has to end. I’m sorry.”

Minho didn’t believe it. Wouldn’t believe it. Chan wasn’t sorry because if he was, he would do this. Or at least that’s what Minho told himself. “Chan please!” he begged once more, the tears falling faster. And for a brief moment there was a sense of hesitation. And Mino seized the opportunity. Black smoke like tendrils crept forth from his fingers and he grabbed Chan’s ankle. His magic shot up through Chan’s leg, wrapping around his limbs and constricting. Chan shouted in pain and Minho watched as black veins began to spread over the pale skin, slowly taking over. The sight pained Minho, but nonetheless he climbed to his feet, calf throbbing in pain.

“M-Minho.”

“I’m sorry Chan. I’m so sorry.” His voice trembled as he fought back his sobs. He knew the magic wouldn’t kill Chan - he could never go that far - but it would keep him at bay for now. He turned and started running, though slowed down by his wounded leg. Every stretch of the muscle felt like searing hot iron was being pressed into his skin. It was horrible. But still he pressed on, knowing that if he stopped he would die. Sirens began to blare across the city, shivers rushing down his spine. Minho had only ever heard stories of those sirens being sounded.

He knew what they meant.

Minho made a beeline for the nearest dense foliage. He wasn’t sure if it would lead out of the city or just provide a place to lay low for a while, but it didn’t matter. The longer he was out in the open, the more danger he was in. He got about half way there when he heard the shouts and the ball of magic began whizzing by him.

“Fuck, fuck.” he cursed, looking around for any sort of safety. He wasn’t sure what caught his attention, but for some reason he happened to look over at a store front and there, peeking out of the door was Jisung, waving to him. If this had been any other situation, maybe Minho would have second guessed the other’s appearance. As it was, this was a life or death situation and Minho preferred to live.

Changing course, Minho ran to Jisung, slipping through the open door and coming to a crashing halt against the front counter. Bent over, Minho panted as he watched with weary eyes as Jisung locked and secured the door. When he turned around, Minho’s entire world came crashing to the ground as his eyes landed on the starburst patch on his right shoulder sleeve. “No, no…God please no!” he begged, stumbling backwards as he tried to put more distance between himself and Jisung.

“Min, wait.” Jisung held up his hands in surrender, taking a step or two closer. “I’m not gonna hurt you. I promise.” Minho wanted to believe him, he really did, but there was just too much hurt and betrayal in his heart. He had thought he was friends enough with Chan that the other wouldn’t attack him like had. But he had been so clearly wrong. Their relationship had clearly meant nothing to the older man. And now he had discovered the one person he considered his best friend was also an enforcer, he just couldn’t take it. Everything was falling apart and Minho was powerless to stop it.

“Please, Jisung,” he whispered. “I can’t do this. Not with you. I trusted you.”

“And you can still trust me!” The sincere earnestness in his voice called to Minho and all he wanted to do was hug Jisung. He needed Jisung. Biting his bottom lip, Minho caved and walked closer. If this was a trick and he died, then so be it, but he just needed one last moment of happiness. Jisung smiled and closed the gap between, taking Minho into a tight hug. Minho broke down and buried his face into Jisung’s shoulder as he sobbed. “It’s gonna be alright, hyung.”

“How?” Minho pulled back and stared at Jisung - cheeks red and splotchy, stained with his tears. “They’re trying to kill me, Sungie! All because…because…” he trailed off, eyes going blank and unfocused as he stared off behind Jisung.

“You use black magic.” Jisung finished and Minho nodded numbly. “I never would have guessed.”

“I never wanted you or anyone else to know.” Minho whispered. “I hate this, curse to be hunted. I tried so hard to just use my white magic, but sometimes,” he sniffled and reached up to wipe away his tears. “Sometimes I just can’t control it.”

“You use both?” Jisung asked incredulously. Once again, Minho nodded solemnly. Jisung was silent for a moment, looking Minho over. It seemed whatever debate he was having internally, he came to a decision as he pulled back completely from Minho. He reached into his pocket and pulled his keys. “Here.” he said as he pressed them to Minho’s chest.

“What?” Minho frowned.

“My care is out back. Take it and leave this place.”

“Jisung? I can’t. They’ll see me and m-my cats!”

“I’ll distract them.” Jisung grabbed Minho’s arm and guided him to the back door. “And don’t worry about your cats, I’ll take care of them. Just go.”

Minho pulled his arm free and glared at the other. “Why are you doing this?”

Jisung could only smile as he opened the back door. “Returning the favor.” With that, he shoved Minho out the door and closed it, leaving him standing there stupefied. Only a few moments later he could hear Jisung out front, gathering the enforcers and leading them in the opposite direction. This was his chance and despite the craziness that just happened, he wasn’t going to lose it. Turning, Minho ran to the car and got in. Starting it, he carefully made his way out of the alley and to the back roads that would lead out of the city - his heart still racing and now full of hope.

Until we meet again. Thank you, Jisung.

Tags: @sauceracha @jisungsjheekies @luminouskalopsia @hanjisungismybaby @imbonibi @jiwlys @leafsmindpalace @army-of-carats @peachmilkcloud @letterstoskz @lauraneuuh @babyskz @stay-here-dont-stray @meen1ez @slinekyu @feedthefandoms995 @schokoshaker @rejemi @ahhhhhhhhhghh @thsrndkd @halotopicecream @skzmonster @jumunnaa @serendipityryn @yayaistime @sachifukyo @eastleighsblog @hydrawaterdragon @3rachasninja @haileybugulug @luvyev

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simp-for-long-hair · 9 months ago

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please click for better quality

another fanfic bookshelf ♡

• Pt.1 • Pt.2 • Pt.3 •

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fromxxthexxashes · 10 months ago

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 9-1-1 (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV) Characters: Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan "Buck" Buckley, Henrietta "Hen" Wilson, Christopher Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Sophia Diaz (9-1-1 TV) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Writing & Publishing, Canon Compliant, sorry yes it is both of those things at once, Gay Disaster Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Mutual Pining, morons to lovers, Idiots in Love, cannot emphasize enough they are stupid here but it's how i like them, Not Actually Unrequited Love, First Kiss, Getting Together, Christopher Diaz Has Two Dads, you know all the classics, Making Out Summary:

Romance is a lot easier to write about than it is to put into practice, and Eddie is the world’s most ridiculous living example of that. He can practically hear the kind of jokes that Shannon would make about it, if he ever told her about the books but - he didn’t. And somehow, probably just because he didn’t start writing until after they weren’t living together anymore, she never found out.

There’s actually only a handful of people in the world who know that Eddie is a writer - and more specifically, that he’s E. Diaz, one of the bestselling romance authors on the market.

or - the one where everything in canon is the same, except eddie diaz is secretly a bestselling romance author, and nobody knows. Yet.

Notes: I love this one so much. It’s one of my favorites. Not enough people depict Eddie as the hopeless romantic that he is. I just love love love it.

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riinasawayama · 4 months ago

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seventeen's vocal unit for dazed korea december 2016 issue

#seventeen #seventeen vocal unit #joshua #seungkwan #dokyeom #woozi #jeonghan #dazed korea #dazed #editorial #18 #555 #svt #upl #got these off FUCKING AMINO........ IN THE YEAR OF OUR LORD 2024. GOD.#feel like an archaeologist #also woozi hi.... woozi x sarah unrequited pining slow burn au when

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geraskierfanficprompts · 8 months ago

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Prompt 4

Geralt is the captain of a pirate ship, named "Kaer Morhen." Perhaps he's still a witcher, perhaps he's just a regular old human (with white hair and golden eyes? Lol) His brothers (and "cousins" from other witcher schools) are his crew Now I can see this going two different ways, so choose a favorite (or make up your own, I am only the beginning, I hold no affront of being anything more) Jaskier is a nobleman's son, aboard his family's ship, possibly on his way to be forced into a marriage to a woman he doesn't love. And either he falls overboard or he's shoved off as a murder attempt, but he's lost in the ocean. Lambert (or someone else, but I love to imagine how Lambert would attempt to call this out to his captain who he doesn't take seriously 90% of the time, #brothers) calls that he spots a man bobbing in the sea, and they haul him up. The majority of the crew sees sight of his jewels and finery and insists on holding him ransom. But when the prisoner wakes up and isn't afraid of death, Geralt looks into this a little more. Apparently their prisoner won't get a ransom because his entire family despise him and his want to run away and become a bard. Funny. Most pirate ships have entertainers aboard to help the pirates deal with months of nothing but ocean. Perhaps they'll have use of this dumb twink after all. OR, option number two Jaskier is a nobleman's son, chained and starved for the crime of wanting to become a bard and not wanting to marry some prissy noblewoman. He hears a lot of loud noises and screams and then a bunch of burly men in fur cloaks stomp down and start rifling through their supplies. One catches eye of him and immediately yells to the captain. The captain is a very handsome man with silver locks and bright eyes, and the dreaded pirate captain is treating Jaskier with more kindness and gentleness than his family or their workers ever have. The pirate hauls Jaskier up into his arms and carries him to their own ship, laying him down in his own bed, and looking over his injuries and sending one of his crewmembers to make hm a fine meal. Jaskier begins telling the captain of his abusive life beforehand and mentions that all he's ever wanted is to spread music and love, and shockingly enough, this big scary (gorgeous) man doesn't even laugh at him for it.. Oh fuck he's falling in love-

♡!Optional addons!♡ • Geralt gayly teaching his bard how to swordfight!!!

• Perhaps Jaskier's family is crueler and has done more than beat him, perhaps they've stabbed him or something, and the very last thing he sees before he passes out from bloodloss is Geralt (Maybe he even thinks he's an angel! Lmfao)

• Geralt getting lovingly bullied by his brothers for taking care of his songbird so well

• Geralt's crew revenge-robbing or revenge-killing Jaskier's family if we do Option one for the story (attempted-murder route), since it's implied it happens in Option Two while they ransack the ship-

• Perhaps I'll do a sequel for this prompt one day for Mermaid Jaskier, I do LOVE mermaids, take this as a much smaller and much less detailed prompt for if you want that idea, too! Perhaps the Pankratz ship has a captured mer aboard, parched and dehydrated (I just mostly think it'd be funny if Geralt was checking his pulse and if he has any injuries while random other witches dump buckets of sea water on him-)

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pendarling · 1 year ago

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Don't Fall For Me

Cupid Worker x Target

Themselves.

The Cupid Worker had pricked the arrow on themselves. With all their years of perfect precision and grace, they’d fumbled and accidentally lost grip on the sharp edge of the Cupid arrow.

An arrow so powerful that even the slightest graze could create its immediate effect. The second a person was shot with the Cupid arrow, they were at the mercy of falling in love with the first person they saw on sight. A risk too dangerous to simply screw up so easily.

Worker raised their finger nervously up to their face and watched the drop of crimson blood grow. Their face winced, it was a painful electric-like sting.

They slipped the tip of their index finger into their mouth and tasted the heavy metallic red run against their tongue. It sent a shiver down Worker's spine.

Now, all they had to do was wait for the effect to wear off, hopefully. They'd never heard of a case where the arrow stopped working even after waiting long periods of time.

They were sent out on a mission today, like all days. To scout out their next target, a prestigious individual with a fine strut, well combed hair and skin so perfect it glowed.

The Cupid Worker slapped their head. They can't be thinking of a customer like that!

As soon as Worker had their sights set on Target, they had to double-check it really was them. How could someone so… beautiful and soft… not be taken yet? It seemed like such a huge loss that a Cupid worker had to be sent to have them fall in love because the world was just too blind to see the obvious.

Their heart wavered at the prospect of losing this human to someone else, what was their name? What a waste of opportunity. If Cupid workers weren't forbidden from falling in love they would take their hand immediately. That wouldn't be possible however, not in this case, as Target had an assigned partner. It was the entire reason why they had come. A job was a job, and if it wasn’t them, then who else would accomplish such a tedious task that required skill?

Worker sighed in defeat and in their hesitation slipped up, the blade of the finely sharpened arrow cut into their finger.

A blinding sensation struck them in their moment of weakness and through their body ran a new sensation. Something overwhelmed their mind.

Worker's ears picked up on the sound of a person's heels nearing, and tender voice. “Are you okay?” Target spoke. A hand landed on their shoulder.

In the moment of confusion, Worker glanced at the figure hovering above them.

It was Target, and they'd accidentally just stared at the first person they were bound to fall in love with.

It felt wrong, and strangely enough, comforting. Their perfect features matched their attitude so well it almost left Worker stunned. Target was…

“Beautiful.” Worker mumbled, their finger slipped from their mouth.

Target stared at the wound and the arrow lying carelessly on the ground. “My gosh, are you a Cupid worker?” They opened their bag and helped wrap a small bandage around the wound.

All the while, Worker stood almost stupidly as they took in their elegance. Their concentrated stare turned into a longing gaze for what could be.

‘What am I thinking?’ Worker snapped out of their urges again, and fought back their interest. They were an employee, this was against the code. Worker pulled their hand away from the target, almost too roughly for their own liking.

Target's shocked expression sent their heart sinking. “I’m sorry, I can’t be seen with you.” They reasoned as they quickly packed their things. Their mission failed today, but they'd hit them tomorrow and find Target's assigned partner quick. It was best to get over the impossible now.

“Please,” They bent down to help collect the items scattered around their feet, love letters between humans and secret codes only workers could decipher. “Let me—“

“No!” Worker snatched away the arrow from their hand, the last thing they needed was for the target to fall in love with them in return. Worker could handle the heat of finding a cure even if it meant hurting themselves in the progress, but a worker’s job always came first. It was unprofessional to let personal feelings interfere.

Worker stood straight and dusted off their uniform. A stern and cold look covering their true colours underneath it all. Target was a lovely person, they wouldn’t rob them of that truth, but they also knew what they should expect.

Cupid workers never fall in love.

As they walked away, Cupid Worker couldn’t stop their mind from wandering away from the objective. Target was too pure for the world to keep, they were a novice of their own era.

Their heart beat rapidly when they found they had yet again let their imagination get a hold. With a growing frustration, Worker shook their head. They needed to find a cure.

The studio for creating arrows was a good place to start. Perhaps one of the workers there could enlighten them on their journey to find a cure for this illness. That would be for the best.

So, with their mind made up, Worker waited for their new destination the next day.

For now, they laid down on their bed in one of the barracks, their dreams kept piling up in the seconds of interaction they had with Target. Those eyes, those big, beautiful eyes, and the way they smelt so subtle and charming.

What a wonder.

The next morning arrived, and to Worker’s surprise and disappointment they couldn’t seem to shake the thought of Target so easily. Their dreams had become completely engrossed in feeding this new passionate feeling of theirs. The Cupid arrow was far more powerful, it seemed, their feelings for Target didn't even fade in the slightest since yesterday.

Worker stood outside the department of Cupid arrow creations and couldn’t find the courage to enter. Someone like Target was deserving of true love, not something that an arrow could give. They were a modern day Romeo and Juliet, who desired what they deserved the most, even if their love was forbidden.

‘Why am I still thinking about them?!’ Worker’s cheeks lit up a rose colour. Of course, Target was perfect in every way, but they were given an assigned partner and it was their job to give them that. To question their beliefs and loyalty to their job all because of an accident was ridiculous. They shouldn't be so shaken because of one person. So why did it pain them this much? Was it still Cupid's magic in the works or was this something else?

With a determined passion to see them again, Worker took a brave deep breath, and turned their back on their work and rather, gathered the courage to find Target again. This time to finish another job. They wouldn't let their values be destroyed because of Target, they should think of this situation like a test of faith.

Their eyes sauntered around the bustle of crowded people as they sat on the bench outside a cafe. It was rush hour, and Target as well as their lover should both be out right around now. Then, they would strike the arrows and allow for the original planned soul mates unite without anymore setbacks. This was their last chance to show Cupid how devoted they were to this mission.

In their pocket was a letter stored that should have the name of Target’s lover. Someone who would treat them well, and although Worker’s love felt real, their true objective all along was letting Target go find the happiness they needed while proving to the heavens they were dedicated to serving only them.

With a final acceptance of this fate, Worker carefully peeled the letter open and hungry eyes deciphered the name on the note.

Their heart began to break knowing this would be it, and if there was no cure, they couldn’t be saved.

They opened the hot pink mail and lifted the small white paper. For a moment, Worker nearly choked on air.

It was their name.

Right there, in bold printed letters and in that classic cursive font they’ve grown used to.

It was truly, and honestly, their own name. Worker sat up in shock and rubbed their eyes still unable to believe it. Was this a joke? Were the heavens onto them by putting their loyalty on display in such a humiliating way? Was their letter changed?

Cupid Worker's thoughts ran rampant in their mind, every answer to this just didn't make sense. Cupid workers shouldn't have partners. It had to be an error. Something was trying to keep them from their duty.

“Worker!” Their eyes shot up from the note. They quickly tucked it back into their pocket, and looked at Target who tumbled through the crowd with a cheery smile, “I’ve been looking for you.” Their eyes shifted, “I didn’t understand why’d you run away from me. Was it something I said?”

Worker’s smile faltered for a second, but the way their concern was raised so easily for them made them melt. The Cupid Worker had to force their exterior expression to remain firm and uninterested. “I thought I told you to stay away.” They tossed them a scowl, but they didn’t move.

“I couldn’t…” Worker picked up their bow, a grand object half their size and curved at all the right angles to perform the best it could. It was their pride and their legacy, a show of dedication to their work.

Worker saw something flicker in their gaze, they couldn’t decode it like they did written names on sheets of fate. However, they could’ve sworn they saw longing behind their faded esteem.

“Stop.” They clenched their teeth and stared off into the distance, if only they could back away further, then they could make their escape once more. It was a mistake to return. And yet, there they were.

Worker found a chance to stand up from the bench and moved away with Target taking steps closer until they were pressed on the brick wall. They couldn't stop breathing so hard when Target was near; this was definitely one of the toughest tests Cupid has put them through. Target's hand rested carefully over their panicking chest.

“Your heart, Cupid Worker. It’s beating so fast,” Their eyes stayed resolute and fixated on a single point way out on the horizon even in the midst of their presence.

Focus.

Breathe.

“Target. I don’t want to ruin your chance at finding the one—“

“I couldn't stop thinking about you.” Their hands held their head and pulled their face to their own. “I don’t want anyone but you, you’re my one.”

They could hardly believe their ears when they found Target’s heart so open and vulnerable. They shouldn’t, but Target was being so entrusting of them, it almost felt unreal. “Cupid workers are forbidden from...” They trailed off.

“Give me a chance.” They whispered, still searching for an answer within them.

Worker held their tongue firm, then squeezed their eyes shut. Every thought of them was a painful trek through a valley of heartbreak they knew they would cross. If they took Target's love and accepted this fate, it would feel as if they'd betrayed their code, like cheating the system. “It’s Worker. My real name is Worker.”

They widened their eyes momentarily, before that same twinkle returned. “Worker.”

Their heart pounded in their chest. They never knew how lovely it sounded for their name to roll off Target's tongue like that. It was satisfying. They were beautiful.

Beautiful.

They leaned in, it wouldn’t be too bad to fall in love even if it was temporary. They meant the whole world to them. "Would you really give me the chance?"

Target stood closer and reached for their lips, their breaths flowing together and lips hardly touching. "Yes."

It hurt. Their chest ached all over again, they didn't care anymore. So, fail me, Cupid. If this was a long-awaited elaborate test, then fail me. It wouldn't change their heart either way.

~~~

MASTERLIST

#forbidden love #forbidden romance prompts #fluff prompt #pining prompts #otp aus #unrequited romance #pining #otp #unrequited love prompts #unreciprocated love #unrequited love #unrequited pining #forbidden romance #romance #romance trope #writblr

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