#or... forcing myself to be chill with it and not go back in because its 3 am
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A Thousand Lifetimes
Drifter appreciation piece :3
#Hopefully fun to visually explore#tried to stuff in as much of the canon drifter’s lore in here as physically possible#probably missed a few things but that was mostly due to space constraints#just needed a thing to do vibe restoration and I was having fun with one of my favorite brushes#originally just started out as a portrait of him and then it got a bit out of hand as I started messing around with the background#Definitely out of my usual style#its been a long time since I did a strictly lineart focused piece#but I used to do line practices similar to this pretty frequently so its fun to see the difference in my current skill in line#We got uhhhhh recursive angels and tau and wally and the lotus and the void and entrati and duviri/undercroft#and the protoframes as designs on his collar and space and the lisset/ordis and the deal/timeline split and the mask/operator/thrax#and stalker/hunhow and the orowyrms and more narmer stuff and recursive void angels and void flow and as many spirals as I could stick in#and hollvania/techrot and my signature also on his collar and umbra earrings and the black/white motif and yadda yadda you get the picture#far from perfect but I worked on it till my apple pencil died and I'm chilling with how it is now#or... forcing myself to be chill with it and not go back in because its 3 am#warframe#warframe art#warframe 1999#tennocreate#warframe drifter#guardian spiral#warframe fanart
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sirius x fem!reader who is scared to sleep after watching a scary movie/ playing a scary video game!!!
Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 697 words
The storm is making things worse. You’ve forced Sirius to put on a sitcom as a palate cleanser after his thriller, but every time the wind shrieks or a tree branch thwacks against your window you go stiff with anticipation. Sirius thinks it’s hilarious. He mumbles teasing endearments into the ticklish part of your neck as he holds you tightly under your shared blanket.
Eventually, you can’t stall it any longer. The television goes dark, the only sound left the storm raging outside, and Sirius says, “Alright, I’m done in. Ready to call it a night?”
“Yeah,” you say, because you’re undeniably tired too. You don’t move, though.
Sirius eyes you amusedly. “You going to be able to sleep?”
“If I can’t, I’m blaming you.”
“No poltergeists are haunting this house, gorgeous.” He starts to get up, forcing you to do the same or be dumped off his lap. “And if they were, they’d have to go through me to get to you.”
“Not too difficult,” you say wryly, “seeing as getting through things is one of their specialties.”
Your boyfriend’s eyes gleam with mirth in the low light as he folds up your blanket. “We’re safe,” he promises.
The edge of a tree branch scrapes across your window. You tense. “I think I’m going to grab some water before bed.”
Sirius hums knowingly. “Not stalling?”
“I’m centering myself.”
“I’ll leave the hall light on for you.”
You’re hoping the familiarity of a nighttime routine might lull you back into your safe sense of reality, but you’re wrong. Though you force yourself not to look out the windows—lest you see a figure lit by the flashes of lightning—your hair stands on end like a spooked cat’s as you move about the kitchen. When you drink your water, it chills you down to the bone.
You’re grateful for Sirius’ consideration with the hall light. Ordinarily you have no problems navigating your home in the dark, but now every innocuous sound has you fighting the urge to check that nothing is behind you; it’s reassuring to at least be able to see ahead. You nearly jump out of your skin at the squeak of a floorboard before you register that it’s come from beneath your own foot.
The true obstacle comes at the end of the hall. Sirius is already in bed, his lamp off, but you still need to go to the bathroom to wash your face. Once you turn the hall light off, there’s a ten foot span to be crossed in the impenetrable dark.
There’s no way around it. You send it.
Flicking the hall light off, moving as quickly as you can with no sound towards where you know the bathroom to be, reaching blindly for the light switch.
A voice, so close you can feel its tickle on your nape: “Boo.”
You shriek and jump away, leaving Sirius to fumble for the light switch whilst he doubles over in laughter.
“Oh my god.” You cover your face with your hands, breath coming back to your lungs. “You prick.”
Sirius tries to choke out a couple of words, but they’re incoherent. Tears leak from his eyes.
“I hope you get a stomach cramp, loser,” you say, fighting a smile as you turn towards the sink. It’s not funny. It’s not.
You’re finishing brushing your teeth by the time he gets it together, wiping his eyes and standing to wrap his arms around your waist. He’s grinning so hard his cheeks must hurt.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
You spit toothpaste into the sink. “No, you’re not.”
His face admits you’re right. “It was just really easy.”
“I’m definitely not going to be able to sleep now,” you tell him, glaring without effect into the mirror. “And it’s definitely your fault.”
Sirius tuts. He squeezes your middle, smizing. “Even if I hold you all night?”
“You do that anyway.”
“And it makes you feel very safe, you’ve told me so.”
You should never tell him anything. You’ll have to remember that.
“I’m going to stay wrapped around you like a koala,” you threaten.
Sirius grins, kissing your cheek. “Careful. I’ll start putting on horror films more often.”
#sirius black#sirius black x reader#sirius black x fem!reader#sirius black x y/n#sirius black x you#sirius black x self insert#sirius black fanfiction#sirius black fanfic#sirius black fic#sirius black fluff#sirius black imagine#sirius black scenario#sirius black drabble#sirius black blurb#sirius black oneshot#sirius black one shot#marauders#marauders fanfiction#marauders fandom#the marauders#hp marauders#marauders era#marauders x reader#sirius orion black#marauders self insert
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Ludos Imperiales 8
Summary: Acknowledging the bond between them creates a challenge Reader wasn't prepared for.
Content Warnings: Jealous!Azriel, Slight NSFW; Mentions of Death and War.
Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7
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I wish we could stay like this forever: The first rays of sunlight peeking through the drawn curtains, the lightweight comforter warm from the large body at my back. The scent of jasmine and citrus lingers on one side of the sheets, night-chilled mist and cedar on the other. The tether in my chest warms with every steady heart beat against my spine. Sleep threatens to pull me back under, contentment a yawning precipice in which I dangle dangerously along the edge.
I want nothing more than to close my eyes as soon as they open. I wish time would still and there would be no demands, no threats over our heads, no Empire to ruin these precious few moments of peace. But the stomping and shouting of guards outside the door brings all thoughts of bliss and peace to a screeching halt. There very much are threats over our head and an Empire out there doing its damndest to ruin everything that is good in this world.
I force myself to sit up, to throw off the warm comforter and the arm still looped over my waist. Force my body to move, to not linger in the early morning light, to not roll over and trace the swirling patterns of my companion’s tattoos over the firm planes of his chest.
There will be other mornings.
Rhys is gone. Cassian still snores from his bed, half hidden in the shadows. Azriel sits up with a grunt beside me. The slight tremor of disappointment that runs down the tether that links us
tells me he’s not thrilled about the arrangement either.
If I had more time, I’d be a little more mortified about the drool I feel crusted to my cheek, or the way my hair is sprouting out the side of my head like one of Anise’s vines. “Shit! It’s late!”
Azriel’s hazel gaze flicks to the door. “We wanted to give you as much time as possible to rest.”
My heart constricts painfully tight in my chest. Last night was an ordeal, yes, but I have no physical wounds, not like they do, and no one has offered them the same luxury. I want to kiss him. Want to crawl back into bed and into his lap, tangle my fingers in the thick locks of his hair and kiss him until we can both forget how awful the last couple of days have been. I want to lose myself in him, let him lose himself in me until there is no longer all this shit between us. I want to know what the bond might feel like if we had the time to explore it properly. Instead, I lean forward and give his scarred hand a squeeze.
“Thank you.” And before he can even respond, I’m sprinting for the secret door.
Rhys already has it open. It looks like he’s been watching the door to make sure the guards don’t try to come in before I’m gone. There’s no time to share anything other than a conspiratorial nod before the darkness of the tunnel envelops me and the door locks shut behind me.
I have to sneak past Cook as he gets the stove lit for the day, his back turned as I sprint from the cellar, the noise of the door opening only covered because he keeps banging logs against the old iron doors to make them fit. The Guards have made collecting the right size firewood difficult, as they’ve been stealing his carefully crafted supply to make fires to keep themselves warm during the night shift.
Thank the Mother and every god of luck we have that no one sees me run down the hall and back into my room.
There is still a little bit of the Raven’s blood on the wall. I find myself shuddering as I race past it to get to my closet. The Senate Meeting is in an hour, maybe less. What I would give to have wings!
I throw on the first dress I can find and dip into the bathroom to fix my hair. Shit I’m going to look awful! At least I can blame some of it on the ride over, but Father will never let me hear the end of it. Hell, if Brannagh and Amarathan don’t beat him to it.
I wrangle my hair into a braid that I wrap around the back of my head and pin in place with a gold clip that’s sharp enough to stab someone with, just in case. I shouldn’t be totally unarmed. Scrambling, I remember my Mother’s blade in my vanity drawer, and I lose precious seconds finding a way to hide it in the extra fabric tucked into the gold belt around my waist.
Anise meets me at my bedroom door, looking solemn. “I looked into those other gladiators like you asked.”
I loop my arm through hers. “Walk with me, please.” Her stiffness tells me she’s still mad, but she obliges me.
“The Attor is always top of the list, you know this.” She says with a sigh. At least for now, she has decided to pretend to tolerate whatever nonsense she thinks I’m getting into. I will take this fragile peace while it lasts.
I shiver. “Hard pass. What are their other options?”
“Senator Thessian has three Elven archers who have never been beaten.”
Archers leave too many variables. Especially since last time they’d flooded the arena and the Elves had won by finding a perch on some driftwood and slowly picking the competitors off one at a time. They need someone who can match their physicality with a sword, regardless of the obstacles in the arena.
“Too many uncontrollable variables.”
She sighs again as we inch closer to the front doors, and the Guards that stand waiting. “Senator Kallias just acquired an orc from the Western Wastes. He is untested, but his staff says he paid a pretty coin for it.”
Better. I like those odds a little more.
I kiss her cheek as we reach the front door. “You’re wonderful, Anise! I will find a way to thank you later.”
She frowns at me as her weathered hand squeezes my arm. “You shouldn’t go alone.”
In earshot now, a young Fae guard says, “She will have a squad after the events of last night.”
I fight back the urge to roll my eyes. A squad of males loyal to my Father. I’m just as likely to be dragged off the horse and murdered in the road by them than another Raven. A thought that does make me uneasy. I could, probably, hold them off on my own, but truth be told, now that I’ve been forced to stop and take a breath, I do still feel shaky. Training and muscle memory keeps me composed, but last night was a lot.
It will cost me precious time, but the idea forms easily, and I turn to Anise. “Good thing I have a few gladiators to protect me.”
Her frown deepens. “I am not comforted by that.”
I pull free of her and turn to the guard. I can’t bring Rhys with me; bringing the figurehead of a known rebellion into a Senate meeting would be grounds enough for Father to take my head here and now. I can’t bring Cassian either, he’ll need every precious second he can get for that leg to heal. “Bring Azriel to me.”
The guard hesitates, clearly taken back.
I keep walking towards the stables. “Quickly, or it’ll be your head I throw on the chopping block for making me late.”
That does the trick.
I bite back a grin as I make it to the stables in record time and instruct Grayson, a wiry, half dryad stable boy, to prepare two horses. By the time the Guard brings Azriel, I’m settled in the saddle.
“The Emperor will not like this,” the Guard begins.
“I did not ask for your opinion.” I state, using my best courtly voice. Mother always used to tell me I sounded just like my Father. It had always felt like an insult, but at least it has its uses.
Besides, the way Azriel grins as he swings into his own saddle is enough to ease the discomfort. I think it’s a flicker of pride I feel down the bond from him, but I’m not totally certain. Perhaps I’m imagining it, but I sit a little straighter in the saddle regardless. I want to make all of them proud. I want them to know I can do this, that I’m not some fragile little girl. I can handle what they’ve asked of me.
We head out before the Guard are totally ready, giving us a bit of space between us and them. There isn’t exactly room to talk at the pace we set, but I appreciate the breathing room all the same. At least, for now, it doesn’t look like they’ve been instructed to stab me in the back.
The ride to the Capital is a blur all the way up until we’re in the city once more. The crowds are significantly less than yesterday, but there are still crushed roses and streamers in the streets. Worse, the crucifixes still stand, the Illyrian bodies still pinned.
I nearly bite through my tongue with how hard I’m clenching my jaw. Some of those males were still alive yesterday. None are today. There is no obvious intent to remove them either, to offer a proper burial. People walk past like they don’t notice the carrion coming in to pick the bodies apart.
Azriel remains stiff and silent beside me. I try my best not to look at him, to not make it obvious that I am checking on him now that the Guard have finally caught up.
I do not breathe any easier once inside the Palace. The place feels like it should have heads on spikes posted at every entrance. All the glittering gold pillars and sparkling fountains feel out of place in a spot built upon the blood of so many innocent lives. I never liked it here, but more and more this place is starting to give me the same anxiety I’d have walking into a dragon’s lair.
The Guards follow close behind, as I once again hold the chain around Azriel’s throat. It feels heavier today, the metal hot from the sun.
“You’re welcome to leave the brute with us, Highness,” one of them sneers. “We’d watch over him carefully.”
I’m still debating how much time it would take me to strangle the male with the chain as we reach the Audience Chamber.
“Ignore him,” Azriel huffs in my ear. As soon as we’d gotten off the horses he’d taken his position behind me, close enough that my hip brushed his if I turned even a little. Maybe it’s a little too close for the story we’ve been selling, but it puts him between me and anyone trying to stab me in the back like a giant shield and he knows it. I don’t like that he doesn’t have armor to protect him, should something happen, but we simply haven’t had the time to find any. A situation I’ll need to handle before we leave the city.
The Chamber doors are still open, by some miracle, and bits of conversation float towards me as I enter. All of which suddenly halt as soon as the gathered group of elites realize who I’ve brought with me.
I square my shoulders, even as the heat of Azriel’s withering glare skids across my shoulder. He’s very expressive today, and I have a sinking feeling that’s on me. Our proximity makes the bond relax, not so taut between my ribs any more, but it also heightens emotions. My protectiveness mounts the longer we’re together, I catch myself leaning towards violence anytime somebody looks at him wrong and from what the nymphs used to tell me, it’s usually worse for males.
Today will be interesting.
We walk down the center of the room, towards the throne where my Father lounges, being fanned by two slaves with palm fronds. Amarantha already sits to his right, drinking from a goblet of wine, her mood sour. Both their eyes narrow in on me, then Azriel, as the crowd dramatically parts, like we have the plague.
I give a brief curtsy to my Father as I take the seat next to him. A seat that has long been empty and was more for show than use. Nothing my Mother ever said in these meetings came to pass. The rest of the senate seats are filled by males, Amarantha and Brannagh the only exceptions.
“Be seated,” Father calls out, waving a hand in irritation.
A servant comes with a tray of wine and fruits, and despite the rumbling of my stomach, I wave it away. I’d like to not test my luck today; I’m just as likely to be poisoned as I am stabbed and even Azriel can’t do anything if I ingest arsenic.
The Emperor leans over in his seat, gray eyes sharp, jaw clenched tight. He’d never hit me in front of so many people, but that doesn’t mean I’m safe from his wrath either.
I brace myself, hands folded gently in my lap, even as Azriel tenses from his perch behind my seat.
“So good of you to show up,” he snarls.
“I had an interesting visitor last night,” I say and I hate the way my voice shakes.
“So you brought a known rebel into my council meeting in retaliation?” He hisses.
There’s a heavy layer of wine on his breath and it takes every bit of training to keep myself from trying to scoot further out of his reach. If he’s been up drinking, that’s a sign we’re moving in the right direction, he’s so off his game he’s unravelled, but that makes him dangerous. There is no telling what he could do next and my first impulse is to curl into a ball and make myself as small as possible.
“I questioned my safety in the hands of your guards on the empty roads over here,” I say, digging my nails into my palms to get the words out.
“But not with this savage?” He gestures with his chin towards Azriel.
All I can see is red. If I had not used so much energy to kill the Raven last night, my powers might not be slumbering so deep beneath my skin now. For that I am grateful. I do not need one more thing to worry about today.
“Their interests are in keeping this deal for their people, that’s hard to do if I’m dead,” I retort through my teeth.
“We’ll discuss this later,” he snarls.
My hands shake in my lap as Azriel’s shadow makes its way around my ear again, murmuring softly in a strange language as it rubs itself against my temple soothingly. It is an effort to breathe evenly and I do my best to turn my attention away from my Father and to study those in attendance today instead.
Thessian, Kallias and Beron sit on my right. Eris stands behind his father’s seat, serving as a guard today, and the auburn haired male winks at me when my gaze passes to him. I hope that means he did that research I asked him for yesterday.
Azriel’s hand tightens on the back of my seat with just enough pressure I hear the metal groan. Thankfully, no one seems to notice but me.
On the opposite side of the room sits Dagdan and Brannagh, their seats pushed together instead of giving them the five feet of distance all the other chairs have, just so no one is close enough to throw a punch if things get heated, as it often does. Next to them are senators Helion and Tamlin. Helion studies Azriel intently over the edge of his goblet of wine, but I can’t tell if it’s genuine interest or the same disdain everyone else has been throwing his way.
Tamlin broods silently in a stack of parchment in his hand, quiet without Lucien to balance him out.
Directly across from us are some of the few Senators who were not previously Lords of Prythian, as it was our biggest conquered province. They’re also the only ones on the Council who aren’t Fae. Giais is the only Elf. Ancient and ethereal, he’s been on the council since my Great Grandfather, though he doesn’t look a day older than me. Acacius had once held Amarantha’s title, but the Goblin had lost an arm in one of the last battles of the Giant War, and had been given a seat on the Council in his retirement. Maximus, who’s self-proclaimed title is Great Lord of the Dragon Shifters; he wears no shirt, but his entire top half is drenched in gold--gold rings with giant gems atop his long fingers, golden bracelets from wrist to elbow, a dozen gold chains in varying lengths and a belt, all catching the light and nearly blinding anyone who looks too closely at him. He’s the youngest male here, with the exception of Dagdan. The only seat empty is Senator Romulius’; the Nephilim away dealing with an uprising in his adjoining provinces.
There are no Humans or Giants on the Council. No Nymphs or Dryads. It used to be more diverse, but as Father’s paranoia grew, so did his prejudices, and the Council became smaller and more segregated as time passed.
“Who shall start today’s session?” Helion calls out as the chamber quiets and the doors close.
It’s like being sealed in a tomb. I wish I’d said yes to the wine, I think I might risk being poisoned just to not have to sit with the swirling anxiousness in the pit of my stomach.
Father gestures to Amarantha with a grunt that tells everybody we’ve found him in the middle of one of his moods. The quiet shifts to something more uneasy, shared glances passing between the senators. They all know this means they must tread carefully.
“Tax season is upon us,” Amarantha says, her voice carrying through the antechamber. “Are there any concerns we need to discuss?”
Tamlin waves his stack of parchment in the air. “My province is still recovering from last year’s tax season. Our prisons are full of debtors. My advisors are organizing things as best they can, but rumors of…” he pauses, worrying his lower lip between his teeth as his eyes flick to my Father. “...unrest are spreading. I would like to request a heavier presence of the Praetorian, just to ensure things go smoothly, if they can be spared?”
“Why should your inability to lead your people be our problem?” Acacius snarls. “Every other province has managed to reign in its citizens but you.”
“I would hardly call the situation in Illyria reigned in,” Helion says over the edge of his goblet.
Azriel tenses, wings rustling behind him. It takes everything in me not to turn and take his hand.
“Illyria is an outlier,” Amarantha snaps. “One that has been dealt with.”
Father’s head swivels to look at Azriel with the same air of an owl getting its sights on a mouse. A shiver runs down my spine as his eyes narrow in on my mate.
“Was it dealt with, Shadowsinger?”
The chamber quiets, every eye landing on Azriel. He keeps his composure near perfect, save for the hand still gripping the back of my chair with enough force to dent it.
“Aren’t the crucifixions testament enough?” He growls through his teeth.
Father grins wickedly. “Since my daughter is so certain she needed you here with her, why don’t you go ahead and tell this council exactly what happens to provinces that do not comply with our laws? Perhaps Tamlin needs a reminder about why he should keep his people in line?”
Tamlin frowns, hand tightening around the stack of parchment.
“What provinces?” Azriel snaps. “There is nothing left of Illyria but ash. It is a graveyard of women and children.” His voice breaks on the last word and down the bond comes the flash of a memory: A small body crumpled on scorched earth, a blood splattered doll clutched in its too small hand.
My stomach shoots into my throat.
Amarantha grins on the other side of my Father, pleased with my mate’s discomfort, pleased with her efforts of destruction in the name of the Empire.
“Sons must pay for the sins of the father.” Dagdan wins more than a few accolades for the sentiment. Beron goes as far to salute him with his wine glass.
“You must have known this would happen?” Brannagh counters. “Surely you knew the cost of your rebellion would be their heads? This is the price of rejecting the Empire and its protections.”
I glance around the room, looking for anyone to argue, anyone to challenge them. Helion shoots me a sympathetic look, but he says nothing. Eris shifts his weight behind his father, but he won’t look my way. They might be uncomfortable, but not enough to challenge them. Not enough to take a stand. We truly have no allies.
“You have never been hungry,” Azriel says, his voice low. The white-knuckled grip on my chair tells me he’s trying his hardest to keep his voice down. The shadow curled around my ear moves with the agitation the rest of them have to feel, even in their hidden perch behind his wings. “You have never been without clothes. Without a roof. You have never gone without clean water, without people to tend to your every need. You have never known what it is to crawl for your basic necessities and then have them ripped from you purely because the people over you could. My people were dying. As are yours-”
“That’s enough,” Father says dismissively.
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep back the growl that threatens to slip past my teeth. How can he be so flippant about it? So careless? I have always known him to be cruel but I hadn’t realized how truly heartless he is. How heartless they all are as they laugh off the dismissal like Azriel is beneath them. As if his story is nothing more than a piece of fiction and he a worthless storyteller.
My hands ball into fists in my lap, power awakening in my chest, bubbling up like a wave, ready to wash over everything in this godsdamned room--
Azriel’s hand settles on my shoulder, squeezing gently in warning.
The Council goes back to arguing uselessly, forgetting immediately that Azriel is even here. It is for our benefit in the long run, I suppose, but I can’t get past it. How can they all be so blind?
Azriel’s hand slides down my shoulder slowly, rubbing a soothing line down my spine until he feels my breathing even out, until I unclench my fists in my lap and he’s sure I won’t explode. I tamper down on my power like I always do; always trapping it down beneath my skin so that no one notices it’s there. My shoulders slump. Why didn’t I say anything when I had the chance? Why do I always sit here uselessly?
Maybe I am no better than they are.
The topic shifts to clearing clogged trade routes. Thesian offers his daughter in a political marriage to Kallias’s son as if bartering items of clothing. The marriage is arranged in a matter of minutes, without either of their consent. It’ll be for the good of the Empire, that’s all they care about.
Helion turns the conversation to imports on wine for a while after that.
I feel myself slipping back into my hollow shell. My voice escapes me, buried with my powers until I feel nothing. Until the words fade in and out of my ears, eyes vacantly held on a spot on the wall. They talk around me like I’m not here, like it doesn’t matter that I’d ever left. Unaware that all of their problems are so petty and stupid when there are bodies of desperate men rotting in the street as we speak.
I want to see this whole damned Empire burn.
My thoughts remain on this one point for so long I don’t notice time slipping away until Father announces the meeting over and waves us all out.
My movements feel stiff as I finally stand. How long have I been clenching my shoulders? My teeth?
Azriel follows, chest against my back, as I move robotically towards the exit, and dart into a quiet adjoining hall. Father will be around shortly, it is not like him to let me escape without further incident, but I just need a moment to take a breath.
“How do you do this?” I whisper as the door shuts behind us. “How do you not explode every time they fucking speak?”
Azriel puts his hands on my shoulders and turns me around to face him. “Usually I imagine how it will feel to drive my blade through Hybern’s throat.”
This close to him I’m eyelevel with his collarbone. I have to look directly at the collar around his neck; the skin beneath pink from being rubbed raw over and over again by the iron. My hands reach for it instinctively, as if I have any power to take the pain away.
“But lately…” he shakes his head as one hand leaves my shoulders to catch my wrist as I fiddle uselessly with the collar. It’s not coming off without a key and I have nothing in my arsenal to make it easier to carry.
Useless once again.
“Lately I just worry that he’d take it out on you, if I stepped out of line, and I can’t risk that.”
The raised edges of his scars are a stark contrast to the soft, smooth skin of my wrists. I have no battle scars, no obvious signs of my Father’s abuse; my skin is unblemished and soft in a way that reminds me exactly why Cassian said I was a pampered princess. I’ve never had to do anything this hard. Never had to fight for what I wanted.
“It’s not like I don’t deserve it,” I blurt and he reels back a step like I’d hit him.
“Don’t talk like that,” he snarls.
“Cassian was right about me,” I return. “I’ve never had to work for anything in my life. I’ve never stood up for anything. I always shut up and shut down and look the other way. I should have done something before. I should have done something now!”
“You are doing something,” he says carefully, hazel eyes darting to the door, conscious of where we are and who might be lurking just outside.
“Not enough.”
He steps back into my space so he can cup my cheek. Damn me and my fragile resolve but I lean into that gentle touch like it’s my lifeline. He’s so warm and comforting and that broken, touch starved thing in me leans in like a moth to flame, so desperate for even a hint of affection. I hate myself for it. Hate that this is all it takes for me to take a breath.
“We have to take it slow,” he bites out. “We have to move carefully. We are under so much scrutiny. I know that it is hard, but you did exactly what we need you to do today. You have played your part. The time for action will come later.”
“I feel useless,” I confess.
“Hate to drag up bad memories, but you killed a guy last night,” he counters. “That’s far from useless.”
“That needed to be done.”
“So does this,” he assures.
I sigh and lean my head down against his chest. His heartbeat is steady and even against my skin. Breath warm against the back of my neck. I wish I could melt into him, let him consume every bit of my being until there was nothing left of me.
Azriel wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me flush against his chest. My body short circuits, frozen for a moment as I try to comprehend what he’s doing. I don’t remember the last time somebody hugged me. Yes, last night he’d slept with an arm around me, but that is different somehow. I don’t immediately know what to do with this. Last night had a purpose, I’d needed the security to sleep. This was in comfort. And no one had comforted me like this in years. Not even Anise when my Mother had died.
His embrace is all encompassing, strong arms tight around my middle. Something in me cracks open and tears pool in my eyes as I slowly work up the courage to wrap my arms around his middle, conscious of where his wings sit in the middle of his spine.
The bond hums in approval, or maybe that’s his shadows, more of them than the one curled around my ear move to caress my arms and back.
A breath stutters out of me, trapped by the lump in my throat.
“We will beat him,” he promises into my hair, lips brushing the top of my head. “I can take a few punches on the way to that victory, Princess.”
I tighten my grip around his waist. “Not if I turn them to mist, you don’t.” The words are comically muted by his shirt, but they draw a chuckle from him all the same. The sound is rich, like melted chocolate and I’d do anything to hear it again.
“Vicious, little thing,” he tuts.
I work up the resolve to pull my head out of his chest so I can look up at him. “I’ll be whatever you need me to be.” Whatever it takes, no matter the cost, I will see this collar off him, all of them; I will see his people free.
He practically has to duck to look me in the eyes at this angle, but that intense hazel gaze goes straight to my mouth. Heat flashes down the bond, a glimmer of desire so intense I’d think I might have imagined it were it not for the way his tongue darts out to run over his own full lips. It feels as if we share a breath, a heartbeat. I meant the words in a very literal sense, for the sake of this mission, but I think I might mean them in other ways too.
He leans in and I feel his heartbeat stutter in his chest. Or maybe that’s mine. I cannot tell us apart anymore. What is him and what is me is suddenly very intertwined.
In contrast to the firm planes of his body, his lips are sinfully soft as they brush tentatively over my own. I lose all sense of time and reason as I lean up on my toes to close the distance between him, to finish the kiss.
And then the door to the hallway opens.
Time comes in a blazing rush and I suddenly remember where the hell we are as we jerk away from each other like we’d been thrown.
Eris saunters in with his thumbs looped in the golden belt around his trim waist, grinning like a cat. There’s no way he didn’t see us.
“There you are,” he purrs. The shadows of this hidden servant’s hall suit him, bathe his sun kissed complexion in dark hues that make his amber eyes glow like coals. There’s a shade of gold dust in his unbound auburn hair. Everything about the Autumn heir seems to glow, even in the shadows of the world. “I had a feeling you’d be hiding in one of these secret places. You always did like them better.”
I don’t know how to explain myself. I just start smoothing my hands over my skirts, trying to find some semblance of control as my head spins. He can’t tell anyone what he saw! Azriel’s dead if does.
“Just needed to collect my thoughts,” I say, voice uneven.
Amber eyes flick to Azriel and roam over him slowly. I can’t tell if it’s admiration or that look Eris sometimes gets as he decides how much of a challenge a fight would be. Honestly, both those looks are pretty much the same. Eris has always toed the line between flirting and fighting.
“And his?” It’s teasing, not judgment, that much I can tell, but by the way Azriel’s wings open and shut behind him with a snap says he doesn’t share the understanding.
“Eris,” I warn.
He shrugs as he comes to stand in the space Azriel had just held. I don’t miss the snarl that flashes across my mate’s features, or the way his hands clench and un-clench at his sides. He can’t do anything to Eris, not without risking his head. He knows it just as much as Eris does, which is why the male keeps stepping into my space, testing what he can get away with.
“Relax,” Eris tuts. “Who am I going to tell?”
“You want me to make a list?” I retort.
Eris shakes his head, long locks of hair kissing his high cheekbones. “Now now, what fun would that be?”
Fun. Eris might be a bastard, but he is not cruel like his father. Beron would sell out his own mother for a chance at power, but Eris? Eris likes to play cat and mouse. He likes to collect secrets and trade with them. His influence in the court is strong not because he’s paid for it, but because he knows enough to get people to move in the ways he wants without having to lift a finger. Crafty and cunning as a fox; he’s dangerous, but he’s not an enemy, not yet.
“What do you want?” I sigh.
He grins, teeth perfect in his face. “I heard you’re looking for a husband?”
Azriel actually growls at that, stalking towards, shadows slipping out from behind his wings.
Eris rolls his eyes at him before turning back to me. “Have you decided on one yet?”
The obvious dismissal, or perhaps the blatant disregard to the danger he’s in, makes me pause. Why is he playing with fire like this? Is he really that confident Azriel won’t rip his head off his shoulders?
“I’m not on the decision committee,” I say, but I keep my eyes on my mate, a hand raised in his direction, silently begging him not to do something stupid.
The gaze that was so focused on my mouth just seconds ago drops to my hand and he stills, teeth clenched so hard I can see a tick in his jaw. A shadow snaps angrily behind him, like they’re fighting the grip he has on them.
“I should think your word would have some sway,” Eris muses.
He can’t be serious? “You want to marry me?”
“Most females swoon under such an implication,” he starts.
“I thought you preferred males?” I counter.
He grins at that and I am not so blind that I don’t understand why people swoon when he gives them a few seconds of his undivided attention. “I don’t discriminate.”
We’re getting off subject.
Azriel may have allowed me to call him off the attack, but that doesn’t stop him from taking up his position at my back again. The rise and fall of his chest as he tries to steady his breathing is hot and heavy against me, I’m suddenly very well aware of his size compared to mine. The thin line of his restraint is fraying, worse than it was in the Council Chambers.
“Fine, I will pose the suggestion to my Father.”
The bond flares with an anger so hot it seers my insides. I can practically taste Azriel’s rage as it floods down the tether between us.
“Good, then this will be our little secret, won’t it?” Eris purrs, smug expression shot in Azriel’s direction.
Gods they’d kill each other if I wasn’t physically standing between them.
“Yes,” I concede. How has this day gotten so far away from me?
He slides his thumbs back in his belt and strides towards the exit on the other side of the hall. “Oh,” he throws over his shoulder, “by the way, you’ll want to ask for Kallias’s Orc in the arena. It’d be the best match-up for your little pets.”
Azriel is shaking at my back, shadows unfurling from behind his wings like snakes, bathing the room in darkness as Eris opens the door.
“I look forward to our future, Highness.”
Azriel explodes as the door shuts behind Eris, shadows lashing against the walls so hard the lights flicker. His wings snap open, apex talon striking the wall and leaving an angry slash in the paint. His chest rises and falls rapidly, breath rasping out of him like he can’t get air in fast enough.
I spin to face him, taking his face in my hands. He has to get this under control or someone else is going to come running down the hallway. “Azriel-”
“No,” he chokes out, scarred hands gripping my wrists like a vice. “You can’t!”
Panic floods down the bond so fast it sweeps away all that rage like a tidal wave, ice filling my veins. I’m losing him and fast.
“You can’t!” He repeats and the ground shutters beneath his feet.
I panic, worried about who else might be close enough in the hallway to hear, and do the only thing I can think of to get his focus back: I surge up on my toes for leverage and press my lips against his. It’s messy, and not at all how I wanted this to go, but it does the trick. His shadows still, their hissing cut off like they’re trying to wrap their ethereal heads around what just happened. The ground stops shaking.
Azriel’s eyes widen, hands un-clenching. For a moment he freezes, just as I had when he’d hugged me a minute ago. And then he’s on me, hands tangling in my hair, pushing me back against the wall as his lips slide over mine. His tongue lashes behind my teeth, desperate and hungry. He kisses like a male starved, like he’s trying to get the very air from my lungs. He loops an arm beneath me and lifts, a shadow helping guide my legs around his waist as he kisses me again and again and again.
Now we’re going in the wrong direction again. This is not the place for this!
Mother help me, I’m not sure I have the control to tell him that though. Especially not as he pulls away for the briefest of moments, eyes so dark they’re almost all pupil, nostrils flaring.
“Mine,” he growls, dipping his head to press hot, open mouth kisses along my jaw and neck.
Shit! I knew going into it that our growing proximity, and maybe the fact that we’d both acknowledged the bond last night was going to start causing some problems, but I didn’t think it would be this bad this fast. I didn’t think I’d have such a hard time trying to think rationally about it either.
We have to stop. We have to get back out there before this situation gets worse than it already is. But my body doesn’t seem to know that. Hell, the bond doesn’t seem to know that. It purrs and glows between us, warm and bright in the contact of our bodies.
My fingers tangle in the thick locks of his hair as he nips at the juncture of my neck and shoulder. If I’m lucky, the neckline of my gown might just cover any mark he’s leaving. Maybe.
“Azriel,” my body arches into every kiss. My skin is on fire. I need more. I need him everywhere. I don’t know if his name on my lips is an admonition or plea.
His hips rock unconsciously against mine, searching for friction, and holy gods is he hard! My mouth falls open at the contact, even with the layers between us, he’s bigger than I imagined he would be.
Azriel’s lips trace back up my neck. “My mate,” he murmurs into my skin. I’m losing him to the bond, to his instincts, the primal aspect the nymphs warned me about taking over. I want it to. I want to know what would happen if the immaculate control he’s held since I met him were to slip, but I can’t. Not here. The door feels like it’s suddenly made of paper, as if anyone could walk by and see us through it.
No one will be as forgiving as Eris.
The thought is sobering, like a bucket of ice water in my veins. We can’t do this here.
“Azriel,” I start and he groans into my neck, hips rocking into me once more as if I’d said something dirty and not simply his name. The sound makes heat shoot right down to my core and I clench my eyes tight to try and ground myself. One of us has to be in control here. I don’t know for the life of me how that ended up being me.
“We have to stop.”
His lips find mine again, desperate and needy and he moans into my mouth like this is the best thing he’s ever had. “Don’t,” he begs. “Don’t offer to marry him.”
I glide my fingers through his hair.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, kissing my chin, the corners of my mouth, everywhere he can reach like he just can’t stop himself. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention. I should have been listening for the door. I shouldn’t have gotten us caught.”
The words fall like he can’t stop them. “I’ll find a way to get around it. I’ll deal with him. Let me deal with him. Don’t…” he shakes his head, goes in for another desperate kiss. “Please. You can’t do this.”
I cup his cheek in my hand and he tilts his head to kiss my palm. “Eris is a snake-” his gaze darkens when I say his name, shadows hissing angrily. “But for now, let’s not make an enemy of him.”
His teeth flash angrily, a growl rumbling up his chest. Heat flares between my legs at his outright possessiveness. Still, I force myself to unwind my legs from around his waist and he, begrudgingly, sets my feet back on the floor. The ache between my legs is uncomfortable. The bond feels like it whines at the loss of contact.
“No decisions have been made,” I promise. “Besides, hearing me suggest it might turn my Father away from the idea entirely. At least, to that end, I can’t say I didn’t try.”
Azriel’s hands leave my hips to fix my rumbled skirts in an attempt to collect himself. He looks a mess! Hair disheveled, lips kiss swollen, eyes dark. I doubt I look any better. “Nothing is happening today.”
“I won’t let anybody take you from me,” he vows.
My heart clenches in my chest and I can’t stop myself from placing one last, gentle kiss on his lips. He chases after me once more like we weren’t just aggressively making out. We’ll have time for more later, when it’s safe. When nobody can take him from me.
I grip his scarred hand tight and place it on my chest, over my heart, in promise. “There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do to make sure no one takes you from me either.”
I mean it. No matter what it costs, no matter what deals I have to make, this male is mine. No one in this damn Empire is going to take that away from me.
---------------
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Thank you all for all your support! You guys are amazing! I so appreciate every single one of your comments and messages! Thank you for giving this fic such love! <3 As always, if you want to be added to the tag list, let me know! =)
#azriel x reader#rhys x reader#rhysand x reader#Cassian x reader#gladiator!bat boys#gladiator!bat boys x reader#poly!batboys#poly!bat boys x reader#gladiator fic#acotar au#gladiator au#gladiator!rhys#gladiator!cassian#gladiator!azriel#princess!reader#poly relationships#fated mates#political enemies to lovers#my fic#my writing
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Behind your back

You and KK have been together now for some time. Its your freshman year at Uconn and her sophomore. You honestly love your relationship with her. She spoils you and treats you like a princess. Its mesmerizing watching her basketball and you love being at her games. Only problem is she’s teammates with your big sister.. Paige Beuckers. The only perk with this is that you got to join Paiges friend group.
warnings: smut
“Paige do not do it or I will call mom” you threaten as Paige has a pillow in her hand, ready to throw it at you.
“Leave her alone Paige” KK says rolling her eyes.
You, KK and a few other basketball players with all relaxing in Paiges dorm room. You and KK sitting on the couch together, legs intertwined but not enough to cause any suspicion.
“I left my laptop in my car, walk with me KK?” you ask wanting to get away from the noise and spend time with your girlfriend.
Without question KK got up, put her shoes on, grabbed your keys and held the door open for you. You both walked all the way outside without speaking or touching. The second you left the dorm hall KK puts her arm around you.
“Spend the night with me? I got the place to myself and I miss you baby” KK says while pulling you closer.
“Hmm depends” you say wanting to tease.
“Girl please don’t play with me, ill drag you if I have to” KK says snapping back.
You make it to the car and open up the driver side door and sit down facing outwards. KK comes infront of you and places her hands on the top of the car, looking down at you.
You get nervous because you and KK don’t get to have too many moments alone. You smile and start to look down at your hands.
“Hmm, c’mere” KK says while leaning down to kiss you.
The kiss was soft and passionate. Your hands snake around her waist pulling her in more. Her hair brushes your face as she moves her hands down to the middle console behind you. Her kisses travel down to neck. Subconsciously you start to arch into her. Letting a soft moan slip as you feel her marking your skin. KK starts to wrap her hands around your waist forcing you closer. You start to lean back as she slowly gets more and more on top of you. Her hands start to toy with the hem as your shirt as you hear a group of students laughing behind you and abruptly stop your makeout session.
Terrified it was the wrong people you make eye contact with KK whos just giggling on how paranoid you are.
“You gonna chill mama, get your laptop and lets go back upstairs” KK said while watching you reach into the backseat.
later that night.
You were walking to KKs dorm. You had your “stay the night bag” with you. You had on a black hoodie and black leggings with some crocs. Your hair was just in a bun.
You go to knock on the door and KK immediately opens it as if she was waiting for you. You giggle as she grabs your hand and leads you into her room.
She had on dark red led lights, a few blankets, some of your favorite snacks and a movie picked out for you two.
You smile at her effort as you crawl into bed and feel her large arms wrap around you. You cuddle for a little untill you feel KKs hand rubbing your inner thigh.
“Watcha doin?” you ask trying to be silly.
“I missed my girl” KK said while staring at your lips and licking hers.
“I missed you too” you say while leaning in for a kiss.
KK grabs your leg making you straddle her. Shes giving you deep and rough kisses like shes been thinking about this for weeks. You moan into her mouth as you feel your clit being rubbing over your panties.
You pull back from the kiss and bite your lip as you feel 2 long fingers slip inside your already aroused pussy. You look into KKs eyes only to find a desperate look, like shes dying to please you.
After a few more pumps, KK slips her fingers out. You whine at the loss of touch. KK scoots down the bed, gets between your legs and pulls off your pants and underwear in one swift motion.
Without warning she starts eating you. Your back arches off the bed and your hand finds a handful of her hair. Your hips uncontrollably buck into your girlfriend face as shes bringing you closer and closer to orgasm.
After a few more minutes KK realizes that your moans are getting louder and louder and legs weaker.
“Let it out mama, you got it” KK says while rubbing your thigh trying to comfort you.
You couldn’t last another second and you released all over KKs face. Smiling she wipes her mouth and comes up to kiss you.
KK grabbed a towel to clean you and then pulled you in close. Your head rested on her chest and her arms were pulling you in tightly. You fall asleep first and KK soon follows.
9:02 am- the next morning
“KK OPEN THE DOOR, WAKE UP OR SOMETHING YOUR LATE” Paige yells from outside KKs dorm room.
We both immediately jump up, realizing that we slept through every alarm. After a 5 minute search to find my phone and KK repeatedly telling Paige to hold on. Once I find it I have at least 20 new texts from my roommate, Paige, my best friend, and the group chat.
“HURRY THE FUCK UP OR IM COMING IN” Paige yelled.
“Chill bro”KK said trying to find her clothes and mine as well.
Not much long later, Im standing in the bathroom trying to figure out a way to cover my new hickeys. KKs sitting on the bed tying her basketball sneakers. My heart dropped when we heard the door open.
part 2 ???
@teddygrahamslam @private-but-not-a-secret
#kk arnold x reader#kk arnold#uconn wbb#uconn huskies#uconn women’s basketball#paige bueckers x reader#paige bueckers#azzi fudd x reader#azzi35#azzi fudd#jana el alfy#caitlin clark#wnba#kk arnold smut
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fuck'em all, but us.
– CHRIS STURNIOLO ANGST.

Author's note: Hello, little angels. I have been gone for months, but I've been wanting to write something for a while now. Excuse me for the hiatus. However, I still can not promise that I'll be consistent from now on – but i love you still. Do not copy/steal my work. :)
Warnings: HELLA LONG. This is almost 3.000 words, sweet Jesus. As usual, if you know me, I like writing about dark, angsty shit. Nothing too bad, but you know, mention of fights, blood, smoking, etc.
I caught Chris staring at me again, that same cold, unreadable expression on his face. He had a cigarette between his fingers, as usual. His eyes were like ice, and whenever they landed on me, I felt a chill run down my spine. He never says anything — just watches, arms crossed, jaw clenched, as if I’ve done something to offend him without even knowing it. I don’t understand what I did to make him look at me that way, like he’s barely holding back some hidden resentment. And yet, every time I catch him watching, I can’t help but wonder what he’s really thinking.
I’ve seen him with a few other people. He’s not exactly warm with them either, but there’s something different when he talks to them, a sort of casual ease. With me, it’s like he’s built up walls — high, thick ones, and I’m just standing outside, banging on the gates. And every now and then, I think I catch a glimpse of something behind them, something vulnerable and unexpected, but it’s gone before I can be sure.
Chris was my older brother's closest friend, and he has been ever since they were little kids. No one ever got as close to him as my brother did. Whereas when it came to me, he was rather cold; I never understood why.
My thoughts were roughly interrupted by my brother's hand, which took a strand of my hair and pulled on it to annoy me.
"Ow, you fucking asshole!"
"Hey, wake the fuck up. I said me and Chris are leaving." I rolled my eyes and looked at Chris one more time, seeing that he still had that same look on his face.
Deciding to ignore it one more time, "yeah, bye. God." I said and grabbed the remote to switch on the TV.
I didn’t want to watch anything in particular; I’d just rather avoid looking at my brother’s best friend once again.
"Where the hell are you?"
A notification popped up and before I read the sender's name, I already knew it was Fred. My ex.
Of course, I ignored it, but deep down, I knew he was losing it. Ever since we broke up, he’s been acting stranger and stranger — showing up at places he knows I’ll be, sending messages that alternate between apologies and accusations. It’s like he can’t decide if he wants me back or wants to make me regret ever knowing him. I kept telling myself he’d get over it eventually, that he just needed time. But lately, his behavior had me on edge, and I began wondering if he’d ever really let go.
I’d never go back to him; that’s something I’m certain of. He crossed too many lines, left too many scars I can’t forget. But now, it’s like he’s everywhere—lurking just out of sight, always one step behind me. I feel his presence even when he’s not there, a constant, heavy reminder that he’s still watching, still obsessing.
I’ve started checking over my shoulder more often, catching myself dreading the sound of my phone vibrating with yet another message from him. I tell myself it’s just paranoia, that he’s all talk and no real threat. But some small part of me can’t shake the fear that this time, he might actually be out of control.
And I was right to be cautious. Because he finally crossed the line I’d been hoping he’d stay behind. When I got home, my stomach twisted as I saw it; my car, with its tires slashed and a deep scratch running along the side. It was unmistakably his work; I’d ignored his messages, blocked his number, and now he was trying to force my attention.
My hands shook as I took in the damage, a mix of anger and dread flooding through me. How could he stoop this low? He knew that car was everything to me, the one thing I’d saved for and bought on my own. The memories of late nights spent driving to clear my head, the freedom it gave me — he’d tainted all of it in a single, desperate act. I wanted to scream, to call him and let him know just how furious I was. But I knew that’s exactly what he wanted.
He wanted a reaction, wanted me to feel trapped and afraid, wanted to pull me back into his twisted little game. But I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Instead, I took a deep breath, locked my jaw, and stared at my car.
"What.. the fuck is that?" My brother's voice echoed in my ears and I turned around to see that he was with Chris.
"Fred. Fucking Fred." I screamed, not able to contain my anger.
"That bastard.. I will fucking kill him." He said and got closer to the car to see the damage, "calm down" was what Chris said to him.
Chris looked shocked and angry, he walked towards me, "this motherfucker lives nearby?"
"Yeah… just a few blocks away." I sat down on the ground, pulling my legs to my chest and hugging them tightly. I looked up at Chris, my voice trembling, "that was my fucking car..." a tear slipped down my cheek, and in that moment, I couldn’t tell if it was from anger or sadness.
Chris clenched his jaw, and I felt a rush of warmth as his hand reached down to cup my cheek. His touch was soft, gentle, and completely disarming. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had held me like that, with such tenderness. He looked down at me with a promising expression, his eyes filled with determination. “I’ll see what I can do about your car. I might have a friend who can fix it.”
His thumb brushed softly against my skin, and I felt a flutter in my stomach, a strange mix of comfort and something deeper. The way he touched me sent a shiver down my spine, pulling me out of my anger for just a moment. In such a chaotic moment, I couldn’t help but think it was nice seeing him like this for once. I stayed silent and leaned into his hand, seeking that warmth, desperate for a distraction from the whirlwind of emotions coursing through me.
I was rather quiet the following days – I didn't want to go out of the house much. Not because this asshole scared me with what he did, but because that car meant a lot to me. Me and my brother lived by ourselves, and that car was the only thing I could call my own. Fred would pay and I'd make sure of that.
I was alone in my room getting ready for work, trying to drown out the chaos of the previous days when I heard the front door slam shut. My heart raced with curiosity and unease. Just as I was about to head downstairs, my brother’s voice boomed through the house, cutting through the silence, “what the hell happened to you?”
I sprang to my feet, instinctively rushing toward the sound of the voices. As I reached the living room, I froze at the sight before me. Chris was leaning against the wall, blood dripping from a cut on his eyebrow and cheek, and staining his shirt. My brother stood in front of him, fists clenched, a mixture of concern and fury etched across his face.
“Chris, what the actual fuck!” my brother exclaimed, his voice a mix of anger and worry. Chris turned his gaze toward me, and in that moment, everything else faded. Despite the blood and bruises, there was a softness in his eyes that held me captive, a silent plea that made my heart race.
“I’m fine,” Chris replied, though his voice was strained. He shifted slightly, not even a single emotion of fear, or pain, nothing. If anything, he had a pleased expression on his face, I could almost make out a smile. My brother continued to glare at him, demanding answers, but Chris seemed unwilling to give them to him.
“What happened?” I asked, stepping closer, my heart pounding. Chris’s gaze flickered back to my brother, and for a brief moment, I felt a wave of unease wash over me. I could sense that whatever had happened involved more than just a simple altercation, and the tension in the air was thick with unspoken words.
"Nothing happened. I just shouldn't have gone to Mike's. There was another fight and I got involved." My brother seemed to know what he was talking about, because his whole body language changed, softened.
"I told you, asshole. You should never go to Mike's. This bar is a shithole." He went off to the kitchen, probably going to grab something to clean the blood.
I walked closer to Chris, my sweaty fingers digging into my leather bag. I reached out hesitantly, my fingers trembling as I brushed against his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin contrasted by the coolness of the blood that trickled down from the cut above his eyebrow.
“Chris,” I whispered, my voice barely above a breath, my heart racing. “Does it hurt a lot?” My fingertips lingered on his skin, tracing the line of the wound as if I could somehow erase the pain with my touch. His eyes locked onto mine, a storm of emotions swirling within them — vulnerability, frustration, and a glimmer of something deeper that sent shivers down my spine.
He winced slightly at my touch but didn’t pull away. Instead, he leaned into my hand, a subtle gesture that felt almost intimate in the tense air between us.
“Not much.” he said, his voice low and rough, but it was the way he looked at me that stole my breath. There was a rawness in his gaze, as if he was baring a part of himself that he’d kept hidden, and in that moment, everything else faded away.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked, my thumb brushing lightly over his jawline, searching his eyes for reassurance. The moment felt suspended in time, a fragile bubble where nothing else mattered but the two of us. His expression softened, and I could see the flicker of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips despite the pain.
“I will be,” he replied, his gaze steady and unwavering, filled with a mixture of gratitude and something that felt like longing. It was as if, in that brief exchange, we shared an unspoken promise — a connection that transcended the chaos around us. My heart raced, and for the first time since the chaos began, I felt a sense of calm in the storm.
Having to go to work and leave him like this pained me, but I had to go, "I have to go to work.." I explained.
"Mhm. D'you want me to take you to work?" He said and I sighed.
"No. Of course not. Stay here, with my brother. I'll see you.. later." I nodded my head and said goodbye one last time before leaving.
The night air was cool against my skin as I walked home from work, each step feeling heavier than the last. The streetlights cast a faint glow on the pavement, illuminating the shadows that seemed to stretch endlessly in the darkness. My thoughts were consumed by what had happened — I couldn’t shake the image of him standing there, bloodied yet resilient, leaning into my touch.
My heart raced at the memory, but alongside it was a gnawing concern. What kind of trouble had he gotten himself into? It was like him to end up in trouble, but I'd never actually see him like this.
As I approached my apartment, a sudden impulse gripped me. I didn’t want to go home and drown in my thoughts; I wanted to see Chris again. I needed to know he was okay, to check on him in a way that felt more personal than just a casual conversation. With each step toward his place, a mix of anxiety and anticipation bubbled within me.
I turned the corner, the familiar path leading me to his apartment building. The windows were dimly lit, casting a warm glow that made me feel a little lighter despite the weight of everything else. I hesitated for a moment, wondering if I was overstepping or if he’d even want to see me after everything that had happened. But the thought of him alone, nursing his wounds and possibly replaying the day in his mind, pushed me forward.
I climbed the stairs, my heart pounding louder with each step. When I reached his door, I raised my hand and knocked softly, the sound echoing in the silence of the hallway. What if he wasn’t ready to see me? But as I waited, I couldn’t help but hope that he’d open the door, that he’d let me in — not just to his apartment, but to whatever was going on in his life.
"What.. are you doing here?" He furrowed his eyebrows, a little band-aid covering the wound on his eyebrow now, a cigarette between his lips.
"Sorry, Chris.. I couldn't.. stop thinking about you. I mean.. what happened to you.. today." I was nervous, I couldn't quite understand why.
He cleared his throat and stepped aside to let me in, and of course, I wasted no time. I sat down on his couch and he sat down beside me. So many years of knowing him, and I've never actually been inside his house, so I took a quick look around, trying to take in everything I could.
"I'm fine. I told you." He insisted and sipped from his beer that was on the coffee table, his cigarette nearly done now.
"Your cheek is swollen, you didn't even bother putting some ice on it. Geez." I huffed and got up to go to the kitchen, opening the freezer and wrapping some ice cubes in a towel.
I walked back to him and sat closer to him, cupping his cheek and gently pressing the ice on his other cheek. Only then did I realise how close we were, I could feel his breath fanning over my lips, his dark blue eyes staring into mine.
"My fiend. Zack. He will help you with the car." He whispered and I whispered back, "thank you.. so much."
The sight of him so vulnerable, the blood still seeping from the cut and the way he tried to mask the pain, made something deep within me stir. I forgot about everything else — the fight, the worry, the uncertainty of where we stood. All I could focus on was him and the way he looked at me, those fierce eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and something more that made my pulse quicken.
I could see the way he held back a flinch, how he tried to remain stoic despite the pain. I felt the heat rising in my cheeks, a flush of desire that surprised me. I wanted to kiss him, to close the distance between us and erase the hurt with something softer, something intimate.
As I leaned closer, his gaze flickered to mine, and in that moment, everything else faded away.
“Chris,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper, as I hesitated just inches from his face. I could sense that he was just as caught up in the moment as I was, his eyes darkening with something that mirrored my own feelings.
Then, before I could overthink it, I closed the distance between us, pressing my lips against his. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as if we were both afraid of what this moment meant. But as I felt him respond, his hand gently cupping my neck, deepening the kiss, I knew I had crossed a line that I never wanted to return from.
The kiss was hungry, needy. I needed to catch my breath. As we pulled away for a breath, my heart raced, and I felt a rush of conflicting emotions, “this is so wrong..” I whispered, my forehead resting against his.
“I know,” Chris replied, his voice thick with desire. He searched my eyes, a mix of guilt and longing swirling between us, "I cant stop now.”
“I shouldn’t be here,” I breathed, feeling the warmth of his body so close. Yet I leaned in again, capturing his lips with mine once more.
He pulled back slightly, looking conflicted, “what if your brother finds out?”
“I don’t.. care right now,” I admitted, my hands threading through his hair as I kissed him again, the heat of the moment overwhelming any reservations I had, “I just want to be here with you.”
“I shouldn’t want this,” he murmured against my lips, his breath mingling with mine, “but I do.”
“Me too,” I confessed, pulling him closer, lost in the moment, “I can’t stop.”
“Then don’t,” he whispered, his eyes darkening with intensity, “don't think about anything else.”
With that, we dove back into the kiss, the world outside fading as we lost ourselves in each other.
As I left Chris's apartment that night, a rush of exhilaration filled me, and I realised that the unexpected had happened; my ex hadn’t reached out at all since the incident with the car. And for the first time in weeks, I felt a weight lift from my shoulders.
A few days later, while I was passing by my brother's room, I heard him talking on the phone. Curiosity piqued, I paused outside the door, trying to listen in.
“I can’t believe you did that, man,” my brother said, his tone a mix of disbelief and admiration, “how did you even find his place?”
“This bitch peed his pants when he saw me.” Chris replied, his voice low but amused, “it wasn't that hard, just had to ask around.”
Something shifted inside of me, realizing that Chris had taken matters into his own hands.
“You know, you didn’t have to do that, I was planning on destroying his car instead", my brother said.
“But I wanted to,” Chris replied firmly, and I could hear him chuckle at what my brother said next.
I stepped back, my heart racing. So, it was Chris who had put an end to my ex’s harassment. I couldn’t help but smile, feeling a warmth spread through me. I knew then that my feelings for Chris were deeper than I had allowed myself to acknowledge, and knowing he had my back made me feel safer than ever.
I found myself running back to his apartment again, right then and there, running up the stairs of his building as if someone was chasing me. I knocked on the door, loud enough for him to open it quickly, worry written in his eyes.
"What–"
And this time I didn't let him finish. With tears in my eyes, I pressed my lips against his and lost myself in his arms.
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#chris sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#matt sturniolo#nick sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo fanfic#chris sturniolo fluff#chris sturniolo x you#chris sturniolo x reader#christopher owen sturniolo#fluff#matt sturniolo fluff#chris sturniolo angst#angst#fanfic#fan fiction#fanfiction#sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#matthew sturniolo#messy#heartbreak#oneshot#chris owen sturniolo#one shot#sturniolo fic#triplets au#sturniolo triplets fanfic#sturniolo triplets fluff#x reader
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Here I am!!! It took a while because I was undecided about which one to ask ehehe 🤭 buuuut this time let's go with Poe and "I need to take a head count" pretty please and thank you? Love you!!!!
Hiii! I always love to get your requests, thank you so much! 🩷 As soon as I got this one my brain went to a day in the sun with Poe (and then it added a spark of trauma but like just a very tiny bit). I hope you like it!
Beneath the sun
Pairing: Poe Dameron x reader
Summer Prompts ‘I need to take a head count"
Word count: 935
CW: Mentions of war-related trauma. Also mentions of Shirtless Poe.
Behind Poe’s sunglasses, you see the furrowed eyebrows and the quick scan around the lake. You wonder then how many times he had done it that day, since his tanned chest, so very much on display, shining with the sun and droplets of water, had been distracting you all day, too much for you to focus on his count-ups. But now, with the sun beginning to set as everyone began to walk back to the ship, when Poe joins your side, you hear the murmur of numbers coming from his voice. “...four, five, six, seven.” He finishes almost in question.
“What are you doing?” You ask softly, lacing your fingers with his.
Poe keeps quiet for a couple of seconds, taking off his sunglasses to let you see the movement of his eyes scanning around, “I need to take a head count,” he admits, as if it were a normal thing to do. Because, for him, it was a normal thing to do.
It was his usual thing. Poe used to count the pairs of wings that flew back to base after a mission, the number of helmets placed back for cleaning, how many blasters were submitted for inspection… how many of his friends came back. It stuck to him, you suppose, as it had become second nature for Poe to take care of everyone around him; even now, when everyone had been enjoying the warm day by chilling by the lake, splashing in the water, basking in the sun, when his laugh had been loud and untamed as he let himself relax for a day; even now, when no more threats are lurking around the stars.
You meet his eyes when you step in front of him, your hand slowly making its way up his arm, tracing the path of his collarbones to find a spot on his still bare chest, now a lovely golden color thanks to the sun that shone on his skin all day. There are many things you could say to him, about how he doesn’t have to keep doing that, that there’s no need to worry anymore, that everyone is going back safe and sound, but you know Poe better than that. It isn’t worry what makes him do it, but force of habit after years of doing so. Unable to suppress your smile, you stretch your neck and place a soft kiss on his jaw, your hand feeling the beat of his big heart meanwhile.
“Who’s missing? It was eight of us on the way here.” You know that, since you were also there for the first head count. “Are you counting yourself?”
“Who do you think I am? Of course, I already count myself.” He takes that as an insult, making you roll your eyes lovingly when he pinches your hip softly.
“Alright, General,” you mock him, “why don’t you ask someone then?”
“No way, every time I ask them to number themselves or to keep track of each other, they call me names and make fun of me,” Poe admits with a lovely red painting up his neck, one that doesn’t come from the sun. He laughs, too, and that’s how you know he’s aware of this habit of his that he’s not quite in control of. You don’t blame him, not one bit. “Finn called me 'dad' last time.���
The sound of his shy laugh makes you join him. “Well, he better not call me anything stupid, then,” With a quick kiss to his cheek, you take a couple of steps to the front and clap your hands.
“What are you-”
“Alright, people, who left the group?” You exclaim to your scattered group, who all groan at your question.
“Not you, too.” Rose shakes her head, but still, takes a look around the place.
“It was eight of us here, I’m just making sure we are all here before we leave.”
“Are you our mom, now?” Finn adds, and as funny as that concept could be, you only glare at him, making the rest of the pilots who joined your day-trip swallow their comments and turn around. With just the look in your eyes, Finn immediately regrets his joke and says a quick apology.
“Rey went to the bathroom,” Rose confirms, stepping onto the ramp to enter the ship with everyone behind her.
Everyone except Poe and you, who linger by the bottom of the ramp. He stopped you by holding your hand, pulling you towards him to circle your waist once everyone was out of sight.
“Thank you,” His thank comes with a slow kiss, one to let you know how much he appreciates your help. His voice is barely a whisper when he keeps on, “And sorry for being a pain in the ass.”
“Hey,” You frown, pushing back the rogue curls that couldn’t be settled after a day in the water. Your hand rests on his neck, feeling the sun-kissed skin there as you pull him in for a quick kiss. “You are not a pain in the ass.”
Poe looks at you unconvinced, but smiles anyway when you kiss him again. You don’t say anything more, but you know from the look in his eyes that he understands, that he knows what you know about his still-cloudy head. You don’t mind, and he sees that, too.
One day, you’ll look back on the torturous days of fighting as a distant memory. For now, though, you both hold each other as you know that, right now, maybe the fog of it will linger for a little bit longer, even during sunny days.
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Thanks for reading! Please reblog and comment if you enjoyed it.
#poe dameron x reader#poe dameron imagine#poe dameron fluff#poe dameron x you#poe x you#poe x reader#poe dameron x y/n#poe dameron au#poe dameron fanfiction#poe dameron fanfic#poe dameron fic
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Can you write Their reaction to Sheep!MC turning into their human form, naked, in front of them but with side characters please ?

I knew people would request for the side characters sooner or later, glad I can write them again :b
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Their reaction to Sheep!MC turning into their human form, naked, in front of them
Warnings:
Versions: Demon brothers, Side Characters
Links: Masterlist
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DIAVOLO:
You were just giving your normal report to Diavolo after you got in the student council
You showed up in an empty hall where his throne is placed in the middle of the other end of it
And he's there
Sitting while looking oh so high and mighty
And you're there
Insisting to fulfill your duties even though you're feeling weird ever since this morning
"Greetings, Lord Diavolo-" You're not even done saying your greetings but you already dropped on your knees
The pain caused by the unnatural feeling of burning inside your body taking over your senses
"MC!" He called out before he stood up from his throne and come down to help you up
"I'm sorry, Dia... I'm just not feeling well-" And then again, you got cut off
But this time, you're not feeling weak
You're feeling all better
You're glowing like some light bulb though
"What happened..." You asked not noticing the once familiar feeling of being on your human knees
"How..." Diavolo just uttered a word and yet you felt a chill down your spine
Your spine?
"How disgraceful..." His voice seemed to grew more deep and husky and when you looked up
You saw yourself naked in the reflection of his eyes
His eyes that are looking at you like you're some prey
Your mind is hazy and your eyes are blurry from all the tears that are streaming out of it "Hmm?~ Are you alright, Honey?" His sickeningly sweet voice asked as he thrusted his hips even harder.
You let out a gasp before your hands gripped the hands of the throne even tighter, trying to spot yourself from falling forward because of his harsh movement "S-Slow downn!~" You whined.
But instead of him following your desires like how it usually works you felt his hand wrap around your neck "But I'm already as slow as I can get..." He dissapointedly whined before he thrusted one more time, releasing his seed inside of you.
BARBATOS:
You have informed everyone that you're not feeling your best today
And Barbatos insisted that he take care of you
Even going as far as to ask for a leave, which he never did back then.
And now he's here spoon feeding you the soup he cooked himself
"I can eat by myself..." You insisted but he just slapped your hand away when you tried to grab the spoon off of his hand
"You're an important guest MC... You need to have energy." He replied to you before he proceed to feed you.
Wait a minute, he never told you what this 'soup' is.
"What do you mean I need energy..? For what?" You asked, confused, by his choice of words.
But he didn't answer you.
Instead he put the bowl of 'soup' aside and loosened his tie.
"It's finally starting huh?" His voice lacked the formality, the modesty.
What's starting?
The unusual heat rising in your stomach?
Or this transformation?
You've lost everything, he blindfolded you, he stuffed your mouth with his tie and your hands cuffed to his own hands while your feet is tied to the headboard putting you in a sinful position.
Saliva dripped out of your mouth as you orgasmed again "How many was that already?" He asked before his hands gripped your waist, making you completely defenseless.
"MHM!" You screamed through the gag as you felt his dick grow larger "You should- stop squeezing me so much." He demanded before his tail ripped the tie off your mouth.
String of saliva flow down the side of your lips as your body submitted to his "T-Thank ywu..!-" Is what you managed mutter before his tail forced its way down your throat.
SIMEON:
You're simply keeping him company as he wrote another chapter for his new book
Sitting on the sofa next to his desk as you scroll through the internet
"MC..." He suddenly called out catching your attention
"What's up?" You tried, putting your phone down.
"Have you ever thought about... You know... Getting your human form back." He suddenly commented
His stands still tapping the key board
"Well... Having this sheep body sure is hard but it's bearable." You answered
"If it's what keeps me alive in this place then do I really have the luxury to choose what my body will be?"
He was shocked by your answer
Shocked enough that he stood up from his seat and grabbed your jaw "Your body is the temple of God... Yous should know how to love it." He suddenly lectured
"How about I show you how?" And with that your whole body glowed bright
You grabbed the edge of the sink as he harshly pounded you from behind "F-FUck, wait..!" You moaned, asking him to slow down for just a bit.
But instead he covered your mouth with his hand and fucked you even harder, his cock achingly hard because of the sight of your saliva seeping through the gaps between his fingers.
“I love you-! S-So much!” Is all he can come up with as his hand moved to your hips and gripped them before his thrusts turned harder, much more erratic. If only his white wings weren't out you would've suspected him as a succubus in disguise.
SOLOMON:
Solomon has been giddy all day.
Always smiling at you whenever or wherever he saw you.
And based on experience, this man is up to something.
And your suspicion is confirmed when he dragged you into an empty hallway and asked you to meet him tonight in the purgatory hall.
But when you arrived in it
You thought no one was home since every light is off
And the lights in Solomon’s lab are the only light brightening the hall through the gaps of the door.
You knocked and he immediately opened the door as if expecting it.
He should be anyways
He let you in and introduced you to a potion, a dark pink one.
“And what does this do?” You ask as you swirl it.
He smirked, his hands behind “It would give you your human body back.”
Your now spread wide on his desk his cock fucking into you, his balls hitting your ass as your soft please and request to slow down fall on deaf ears “Hmm?~ Slow down? But I gave you such a good potion, bringin back this slutty body back to me.” His eyes darkened as you felt him throb inside of you causing you to moan again knowing his cum will be in you again.
“Don’t I deserve a reward for being so useful to y-you?!” He asked, his hips thrusting one last time before he shoot another load of cum in you causing you to orgasm for the third time this night, your eyes rolling back “Fucking hell, ever since I had you in the human world…” Not even long after and he’s already pounding you.
“You’ve been teasing me everyday.” His voice is deep, something you wouldn’t hear from Solomon on a normal day “I-I, NOT!” You tried to object as tears fall from your eyes while you shake your head “Oh, really?~” He teased definitely not falling for it “Lying is bad, little sheep.” With one swift movement he flipped you up, now your back facing his chest “I heard spanking works the best for liars.”
MEPHISTOPHELES:
Mephistopheles have not seen your human form
And he does “not want to.”
That’s what he tells himself everyday.
But his curiosity is way too great to ignore.
Especially how the brothers are constantly searching for answers and ways to bring your human form back
Just what's about you that can make them so desperate?
But luckily
As he is the son of the greatest clan in the Devildom
Their family has a hidden heirloom that can just be of help in this situation
But he won’t tell the brothers about this
And at least, he won’t tell Diavolo yet.
And now he invited you in his mansion
You’re sitting on his bed as he conduct the ritual
And you must expect… This is not how you expect the ritual to end
“Slutty fucking human.” His words are laced with venom as his cock pushed your limits, threatening to tear you apart and yet you’re here, ass up in the air as he tried to push his cock all the way in “I T-T-OLD YOU!” You screamed as tears continuously roll down the side of your face “IT REALLY WON’T FIT IN ME!~” You moaned, still feeling him pushing it deeper.
“Are humans really this sensitive or you’re just an exemption?” He smirked as he pushed another inch in almost knocking the consciousness out of you “Stop fucking squeezing my cock so hard..!” He commanded as a harsh spank landed on your ass making you sob even more “S-Shit… So sorry!” He smirked as he noticed how he’s starting to take a toll on you.
“I’m barely balls deep in you and yet you’re already this reactive?” He mocked you as a distraction before he slammed himself all the way in and holy shit, he tried to not cum on the spot because he knows he’ll really break you if he does but fuck, the way you moan his name is not helping at all “Does it feel good, baby?” His voice is deep and husky as he leaned closer to your ear before biting it.
RAPHAEL:
Oh poor MC
This place does not even let you live comfortably with your own human body
He started assisting you more after he found out that the sheep form is not your original form
And that you actually have a real human body
And then one day
You’re in the back of the library trying to get this book
Diavolo insisted that its safe
For him
But definitely not for you
Considering how the book is starting to attack you
He, of course, defended you with his spear
Not until the book exploded
And you started glowing
“Oh wow… You have your human body back.” His expression does not express it well but he’s glad for you.
He’s glad really.
What do you mean your body feels cold?
Ah… It’s alright.
He knows the best way to make it warm.
Your legs are around his waist, trying to pull him, push him deeper “Patience MC… You’ll start bleeding if I push it all the way in.” He reasoned, making you whine even more. He’s still expressionless but you’ve caught a glimpse of a smirk “Y-You’re just teasing me…” You argued as his hips pushed his cock further in you.
“D-Do you want me to stop?” He looked so shy… You thought you made him feel bad but you can’t help it, you buried your head on his neck and nodded and just when you’re about to reassure him a chuckle left his mouth before his hips harshly slammed in you, not even giving you time to adjust to his length.
A gasp left your mouth as you covered it up, remembering you’re still in the library “W-What’s wrong?!” His words sounded like a taunt as his hips assaulted yours like you two are some animals in heat “You want it like this right..?” His voice darkened even more.
THIRTEEN:
You and Thirteen have developed this habit of hanging out in her cave
It was actually clean
It’s nice, quiet and the temperature is nice.
Though, as the two of you hang out
“MC is your skin really that… Glowy?” She asked
You looked down at yourself and you saw that
Shit
You really is glowing
You looked back at her in horror and you saw how her eyes darkened
“This can’t be happening… I’m death!” She voiced out as she turned to look at your candle
It was bruning flamboyantly, nothing was wrong…
SO WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING TO YOU?!
She looked at the other candles threatening to blow them all off
If you don’t get to live
They can’t also-
“Thirteen…” You muttered, catching her attention.
She turned around with tears brimming on the bottom of her eyes
It immediately disappeared as soon as your naked form laid before her eyes though.
You whimpered softly as her tongue slithered inside your entrance “T-Thirteen… Give me a break..!” You mumbled as your fingers gripped the covers for its dear life and yet she just lifted her head up a little, a mixture of her saliva and your cum dripping from her mouth before she chuckled “You need to make it up to me… You made me worry and all ya know.”
Her lips started abusing your hole once again as her hands forced your legs open “So be a good little human and compensate me okay?” She managed to say between moans and slurps as she devoured you for the whole night.
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#obey me#obey me fluff#obey me headcanons#obey me nightbringer#obey me scenarios#obey me shall we date#obey me x reader#obey me smut#obey me diavolo#obey me barbatos#obey me simeon#obey me solomon#obey me mephistopheles#obey me Thirteen#obey me raphael
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lose control | fairy tail 🧚
pairing: natsu dragneel x reader, gray fullbuster x reader
cw/tw: an elsa joke for gray, little bit of smut so mdni
notes 🗒️: i don’t see NEARLY enough fairy tail works on here, so might as well do it myself. 😭 have some random headcannons for natsu and gray. these are just some that came to mind. please let me know if there's anything else you'd like to see. :)


natsu dragneel
genuinely makes me wanna cry he’s so cute omfg deserves all the happiness in the world-
anyway
the literal definition of a himbo
he may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but he’s trying okay?
you may have to explain some things to him, about being in a relationship anyway.
bc i believe once you make it official, he would go right back to treating you just like a friend. 😭
and it’s not because he doesn’t wanna put in the effort or that he doesn’t actually love you, he just thinks it’s implied and that he doesn’t have to say it.
its a very interesting conversation to say the least. 💀
when you explain to him that you want him to be romantic, bring you flowers, take you on dates, etc. he’s listening SO intently it’s adorable.
he does actually try to take you out and bring you flowers after that conversation, he’s a good boyfriend.
literally takes you EVERYWHERE. you don’t have a choice.
he’s going on a job? you’re going too, whether you want to or not. he never wants to be separated from you.
god forbid you guys have to ride a train or anything (you will). you become his personal pillow. natsu is either laying his head on your shoulder or lap the ENTIRE journey. (he especially appreciates it if you stroke his hair while he’s got motion sickness :3)
will wear matching onesies with you in public, bro does not gaf.
is SO touchy. like omfg- everyone within a three mile radius will know that somethings going on between you. natsu has NO concept of personal space.
is amazing to cuddle with during the winter, during the summer? HELL NO. you’re literally shoving this man away from you and he’s so hurt by it. 😭
smut up ahead, mdni
in my opinion, he doesn’t like being submissive.
he’d let you power bottom, but you’d know that he always has control.
reverse cowgirl - he likes being able to grip your hips and sit up and whisper in your ear- 😮💨
mating press - we all know he loves that shit- loves being able to look into your eyes and tell you the nastiest things he wants to do to you.
prone - ngl…i think he’d like putting his arm around your neck as a form of breath play, and listening to you gradually go dumb on his dick-
about that, he will force you to look at him. there’s no such thing as being shy when it comes to sex with natsu.
if it’s your first time, he tries to be so gentle with you. doesn’t want to “break” you as he puts it. (not yet anyway)
very spontaneous. doesn’t care if yall are in the middle of the woods, he’s down anytime and anywhere.
he just wants to fuck you all the time.
will flex how strong he is. like picking you up, tossing you on the bed, etc. he’s very proud of his strength. (it doesn’t matter your size)
i think he’s had sex like once, so he isn’t very experienced. i think he’s experienced enough to know some of the things he likes.
7 inches hard, on the more girth side, upward curve, reddish purple tip-

gray fullbuster
oh lord have mercy. the man that started my love for anime men- 😭
again, cliche but it’s true. it’s amazing to cuddle with him during the summer. but during the winter? nah. you become a certified blanket hogger.
which he doesn’t really mind, the cold never bothered him anyway- (i’m sorry)
we all know this man isn’t great at voicing his feelings and how much he loves you, but he does show it through his actions.
(to me, gray and megumi are sooo similar because of how willing they are to die to win)
he’ll actually take the initiative on dates, he pays attention to the things you like, he brings you flowers without you having to ask.
a really chill boyfriend overall. (no, i didn’t mean to make that pun)
i don’t know why, but i feel like gray can cook? cannot tell you why i feel like he can, i just do. ur definitely taught him how.
gray is the king of casual possessiveness. like he won’t tell you that you’re his, he’ll show it. like a hand on your thigh, on the small of your back, etc.
and it’s not like he means to do it either, it’s almost subconscious for him. 😭
if you get cold easily, he feels really bad that he can’t hold you to make you warmer. :( will definitely get you blankets, start a fire, etc to help as much as possible though.
please touch this man
he’s so touch starved please
needs a good and long hug. needs to be told he’s loved and that he matters. :(
loves music, you can’t tell me otherwise. if you can sing? he loves that shit.
smut up ahead, mdni
out of the two, grays the softer one.
he’s more likely to relinquish control, let you take the reigns.
can be more dominant and rough, but generally prefers soft and sensual love making.
it comes from a place of not wanting to hurt you.
you’ll definitely have to do some convincing before he’ll be okay with losing control a little.
gray definitely uses the red, yellow, and green light system in bed.
missionary - he loves how intimate it is, being able to see your expressions really gets him going.
cowgirl - likes seeing you on top, adores the visual of your body and how much you’re enjoying yourself.
lotus - again, he LIVES for the intimacy.
i think gray looks at sex as being sacred, something you do only with someone you love and cherish.
so despite unconsciously stripping for everyone to see, he’s not just giving it out to everyone. which leads me to believe he’s not very experienced.
i mean, sure, he’s had a few past lovers, but i don’t think he ever went the full way with them.
also 7 inches hard, on the longer side, curves to the left, light pink tip, really pretty
#fairy tail#fairy tail x reader#natsu dragneel#natsu dragneel x reader#gray fullbuster#gray fullbuster x reader#idk why I've never written for these two#literally two of my fave characters ever
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sweeping you off your feet for the second time
an : rafayel x nonmc | nonmc is introverted & nonconfrontational | mc is the girl bestie of nonmc | college au | tried to make it fluff but maybe i failed | typed on my phone & non proofread | might be triggering for some - read at your own risk cause its hard to make a label for every single thing | i wrote this cause i wanted to hurt myself
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CHAPTER TWO
You lay there on the cold floor, the sound of your own ragged breaths filling the silence. The tears wouldn’t stop, burning hot trails down your cheeks. You didn’t even try to stifle the sobs that wracked your body.
The shame was a bitter taste, sharp and suffocating. How could you have been so blind? So utterly, completely stupid? To think that someone like Rafayel, with his dazzling aura and his magnetic charm, would ever genuinely be interested in you, the girl who blended into the background, the one who tried to hide her looks under layers of simplicity.
You were just an easy target, an amusing diversion.
A soft chime startled you. Your phone, discarded on your bed, vibrated with a new notification. You didn't want to look, but a morbid curiosity, mixed with the lingering phantom of hope, forced your gaze.
It was Rafayel.
"Hey, cutie! Just got back to my dorm. Had a really great time tonight. Thinking about that new art exhibit next week? Let me know. Goodnight!"
The casualness of the text was a punch to the gut. As if nothing was wrong. As if you hadn't just heard your entire relationship, your entire burgeoning self-worth, dismantled into a cruel joke.
He had no idea. He was texting you, his "cutie," completely oblivious, still playing his part in this sickening game.
You wiped the stubborn tears with the back of your hand, only for fresh ones to immediately replace them. Anger simmered beneath the crushing pain – anger at him, at his friends, but mostly, furiously, at yourself. For being so foolish. So dumb. For believing in the fantasy he had so effortlessly spun.
A grim, chilling thought settled in your mind: you were going to be the school’s joke. The gullible plain Jane who actually believed she’d snagged the campus heartthrob.
Every smile from his friends, every whispered conversation you might overhear, would be tinged with the knowledge of their secret amusement. You were the entertainment.
And the worst part?
You couldn't even tell him you knew. Because then, even the façade of your friendship would shatter, and you’d lose him entirely. The silence of your room pressed down on you, heavy with the weight of unsaid truths and a broken heart.
The next morning, you moved through a fog of exhaustion and heartbreak. Your eyes felt gritty, heavy from the torrent of tears and the sleepless night spent replaying every damning word.
A bitter resignation settled over you; you were going to be the laughing stock of campus. Every step you took felt like walking into a spotlight, illuminating your perceived foolishness.
You pulled on a plain white v-neck shirt, high-waisted jeans, and your most worn white sneakers – an outfit designed for invisibility, for blending into the background. You scrubbed at your face, trying to erase the evidence of your grief, but your reflection stared back, a pale, haunted version of yourself. You needed caffeine, desperately.
Normally, Rafayel would have a caramel macchiato waiting for you before your first class, his way of teasing you about your sweet tooth. You used to think it was incredibly sweet, a testament to how well he knew you.
Now, the thought of that familiar drink, imbued with the bitter memory of his betrayal, made your stomach clench. You doubted everything – your friendship, the closeness you thought you shared, the bond you had cherished.
What were you even to him? Just a convenient distraction? An object for his amusement? You don't know anymore.
As you walked towards campus, you purposely bypassed the usual coffee cart near the literature building. Instead, you veered towards a less frequented cafe on the other side of campus.
The familiar caramel macchiato only reminded you of him, of the sugary facade of his affection. You ordered an iced latte, the bitter taste a more fitting companion to the turmoil inside you.
You’d rather not get anything sweet, not anymore.
Clutching your cold cup, you kept your profile low, head down, eyes fixed on the cracked pavement, trying your best not to be noticed. You slipped into your lecture hall just as the professor began, choosing a seat in the back corner, away from your usual spot, away from him.
You felt his presence before you saw him. A sudden shift in the air, a familiar burst of vibrant energy. He was there, probably striding in late, his usual charming swagger on full display. You didn’t dare look up.
Later, during a brief break between lectures, you felt a shadow fall over your desk. "Hey, cutie! Where were you? I missed seeing you this morning." His voice was light, teasing, utterly devoid of any hint that he had just shattered your world.
You flinched internally, keeping your eyes on your open notebook. "Oh, hey, Rafayel. Just... really focused on this lecture. It's a lot."
You mumbled, making your voice sound distracted, as if your mind was genuinely drifting off into the complexities of academic theory, not crumbling into a million pieces.
He leaned closer, his scent, once comforting, now oppressive. "You look tired. Didn't sleep well?" There was a hint of concern in his tone, a flicker of that unsettling intensity in his gaze.
You stiffened. Was this part of the act? The possessive undertones you’d once found thrilling now felt menacing, a dark current beneath his playful exterior.
"Just... a lot of studying," you forced out, picking at a loose thread on your sleeve.
He paused, then clapped you lightly on the shoulder. "Alright, well, if you're free later, want to hang out? We could watch a movie at my place, or maybe just cuddle on the couch like old times?"
The suggestion, once a dream, now felt like a cruel mockery. Cuddle. To him, it was just another part of the game.
You flinched, pulling back almost imperceptibly. "Uh, no, sorry," you said quickly, your voice stiff. "I actually... I have something important to do. A big project. Can't really miss it."
His charming smile faltered for a fraction of a second. Confusion flickered in his eyes, a slight furrow in his brow. It was the first time you’d directly refused him, and it clearly caught him off guard. But then, almost as quickly, he dismissed it, shrugging. "Okay, suit yourself. Don't work too hard, cutie."
He walked away, his loud laughter soon mingling with the voices of his friends. You watched him go, your hands trembling.
He dismissed it. Just like that. Because to him, you were just a variable in his amusement, and if you acted out of character, it was probably just a temporary glitch.
Days passed, blurring into a painful routine. You continued to keep your distance. You walked different routes, chose different study spots, and always, always, found an excuse when he approached.
You were less attentive in classes where you shared a lecture, deliberately avoiding his gaze. You knew he noticed. His usual playful banter grew sharper, his persistent texts became more frequent.
"Hey, cutie, you've been avoiding me. What's up?"
"Why are you so quiet these days?"
"Are you mad at me? What did I do?"
You’d reply with one-liners: "Busy," "Fine," "Nothing." Sometimes, when the pain was too much, or the anger too raw, you’d leave him on read, watching the blue ticks appear without a single word from your end.
The silence from your side, you knew, would infuriate him. You could almost picture his handsome face twisting into a scowl, his possessive streak flaring. But you no longer cared if he was infuriated.
You only cared about protecting the last shred of your dignity, the last fragile piece of your broken heart.
#love and deepspace#lads#love and deepspace rafayel#lads rafayel#love and deepspace x nonmc#lads x nonmc#rafayel x nonmc#rafayel#love and deepspace fanfic#rafayel fanfic
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Im too exausted for proper(ish) essays, but im so crazy over this scene. i can't contain myself

TW for: S/A !!! (For the nature of the writing and well—the scene itself)


He's confused at first. he doesn't know what is going on. This slight pause isn't because he's scared or frozen but to assess the situation. After all It was kinda sudden.
All he doesn't like this feeling. he feels uncomfortable and that some sort of boundry has been breached. But he hasn't fully processed it yet.
And right before he fully comprehends and does something about it—


He suddenly becomes compliant?
It's like he forgot what he was gonna do—like He loses the motivation to enforce his boundaries.
he still feels uncomfortable. that doesn't change. But he isnt aware of that. Well, that makes sense... since he never really did fully process what was happening. It's like he lost the will to care about or process it.

This panel. Christ... Thistle finally builds up the power to say stop. It's weak—confused and disoriented. I dont think it's even directed to anything specifically. Its intentions are vague.
But god... and the lion's response? Reassurance. how he can't help it, he needs this to live, he's been waiting for so long—oh, and don't worry, I'll take care of you.

It's just so chilling after this.
Thistle's powerless, weak, and complaicent. It's out of character for thistle. This entire scene is. However It's still thistle. His behavior and actions are his own, and for me that's the terrifying part.
This wasn't... Forced? There's no fighting and thrashing— Its just a complete submission. he reacted yeah but he didn't resist. he didn't fight back even if he had the ability to (we know bc he has, for 1000 years in fact). The lion didn't directly force him either. It didn't violently force him to have its way. But it's still violating. And that's the thing; the assult wasnt violent, but passive.
Hi guys just to reiterate that I did NOT mean to say that sexual cohesion is not an act of force. this part is ment reiterate that it "wasn't forced" in the sterotypical way of resisting, i followed it up by saying that it is still violating despite that and i emhasized that idea in the parts after that,. This part (more so the entire work in general) is ment to emphasize the passive yet transgressive nature of cohesion. i SINCERELY apologize if that was the message that was interpreted from that part. I did not intend it to mean that way.
The demon has slowly but surely torn down thistle's sense of self so much it turned him into a completely different person. Like his identity was shattered and rebuilt to submit.

It starts small, building up the situation, taking away his desire to resist and enforce his boundaries, then it gives a rose tinted explanation of what is happening. Finally, it comforts and praises him. This is what gives thistle the illusion of choice, a passive way of getting him vulnerable.
You can see how it affected him vividly through this part. it's like he forgets what he was fighting for. He forgets his boundaries, his identity, the things he cares about, everything. It's being ripped away from him.

Thistle never stood a chance.
It wasn't his fault he submitted. It was the demon's for putting him in that state. His complaicency is due to the fact that he had no power for any other way.
it never mattered that thistle never fought back. Even if he did fight back or didn't, even if he succeeded or not—what then? it would never change the demon's nature. One who seeks consumption will always consume. In other words; it will always find a way.
I honestly dont think it was the demon's intention to harm thistle. It's selfish but not moralisticly evil (nothing ever is). It seeks fulfillment and not suffering. But its blind pursuit for satisfaction caused suffering, That's what makes it malicious. It doesn't matter if he intented or was aware of it or not. the demon benefited from something that could harm him and did it despite that. And that will never change.
#dungeon meshi#delicious in dungeon#dunmeshi#thistle dunmeshi#thistle#thistle dungeon meshi#text#IF YOU SAW ME ACCIDENTALLY POST THIS NO TF YOU DIDNT#im so embarrassed#half vent... sryyyyy#im so serious when i say this scene helped me realize my own sa#this is honestly beautiful sa rep it brings tears to my eyes#essay
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The Last Train | KSJ | Oneshot
Pairing: Kim Seokjin x Female Reader
Genre: Angst,Romance,Drama,Slice of Life,Exes to Lovers AU
Word Count: 10k
Summary:You and Jin miss the last train home on a rainy night. Forced to spend hours together at a 24/7 diner, old wounds and hidden feelings come to the surface.
Warnings:Insecurity & Low Self-Esteem,Verbal Comments from Others(Implied),Breakup,Emotional Conflict,Self-Doubt,Internalized Negativity,Mild Language
A/N: This one is for my Jin girlies because we barely get any.If you want more jin fics tell me in the comments I am thinking of starting jin series but unsure how well it will do.Anyway a bonus part of this is available on my patreon.Also english is not my first language so please ignore any grammatical errors.

YN's POV
I rushed towards the platform, dragging my heavy bag with me, hoping that the train had not left.
Seeing the train getting ready to departure I fastened my speed wanting to catch but just as my hand reached out the train's door slid close.
Too late.
I stood there for a second, hand still in the air, watching the lights of the train blur past until they disappeared into the tunnel. The wind from its departure blew my coat open, sending a chill up my spine.I let out a quiet sigh and dropped my hand.
Of Course I missed it.I started stamping my feet at the ground, it was not my fault that I was late, actually I was not even late but the exact moment I entered the station, the security decided to detain me for no reason except that they thought I was someone else.
Dragging the heavy bag, I sat on a bench, cursing under my breath. There was no point in checking the schedule board. I already knew, that was the last train.
I could also not go back, i had already returned the keys to the landlady, today was supposed to be my last day here, but guess not.
I glanced up at the big clock overhead. 11:30 pm.
The sound of rain started to build outside the station, light at first, then steadier.I looked toward the glass walls, already fogging over, droplets rolling down like the sky had run out of patience.
I open my phone to message my mom that I won't be there till at least tomorrow.I sigh as I pocket my phone. Well on the bright side at least I don't have to meet my parents now and the generational trauma that comes with it. I look up at the night sky heavily pouring.It takes me back to the reason I was actually here for. My relationship was the only thing that excited me in seoul so after my breakup and my parents constantly pressuring me to start come live with them, I did the only thing I am good at, I ran away.
Told my parents got offered a job in busan, came here, got a job and started living here It makes me the bad guy but does it really? I ruined my relationship and I ran away. More like my looks ruined it and my soul ran away.
I slip out of my trance as I hear someone loudly talking on the phone that he missed the last train. The sound is a little too familiar. How could I ever forget it, the only voice that throughout all the noises told me to not look down on myself, told me that we will be fine, I just need to see myself a little higher and trust him.
I look back to glance at him.
"He still looks the same but what is he doing here?"
I glance at him again but instantly look back as our eyes meet
"shit"I murmur
He’s already walking in my direction, not hurried, just steady like he isn’t surprised to see me here at all. I look down, pretending to scroll through my phone, heart thudding annoyingly loud in my chest. Out of all the people why him?. Why now? I try to ignore him, trying to act casual, but it’s too late, his steps have slowed, and now he’s standing just a few feet away.
“Y/N?”
His voice is exactly the same. Calm, level, the kind of voice that never rises unless he’s laughing or frustrated. I don’t respond immediately,just look up slowly, trying not to let too much show.
"oh, Hi"
I pretend to be surprised as if I wasn't staring at him like a creep minutes ago.
"You're here?In Busan?"
He asks surprised and almost...disappointed, the kind of disappointed that it almost looks like he searched for me.
"Oh, I got a job offer here."
"Oh, did you also miss the train?"He asks sitting beside me, a tad bit too close.
"Yeah,I did"There’s a pause. Not awkward,just quiet.
"Aren't you going home?This was the last train for today."
"I am actually going back to Seoul.I returned to keys back to landlady before coming.Where are you here though?"
"Business Meeting."His response is short and direct.
At this point I just want to go home,wrap myself in my blanket and never imagine to leave Busan. Not even in Seoul yet but still hit with the biggest memory of seoul.....the one I was trying to run away from.
"You're shaking"Jin points out,
"Am I?I guess I am just cold."I watch from the side of my eye as he separates his coat from himself and about to drape it on me when I stand up on purpose because there is nothing worse than a ex boyfriend lending a coat to his ex girlfriend. It always ends in chaos.
I see as seokjin's face falls a little at the rejection.He shifts again, glancing toward the street outside. The rain’s still coming down steadily, the sound of it tapping against the station’s glass panels like a ticking clock.
“There’s a diner across the street,” he says. “Still open, I think. You want to wait there until the rain slows down?”
"I am here just fine"
"I heard your stomach rumble just minutes ago."he jokes.It really did because I am damn hungry.
I hesitate. My instinct is to say no, come up with a reason to avoid the long, complicated space between us. But I’m cold,hungry and tired. And if I’m being honest with myself, part of me is curious. Curious about what he might say. Curious if he’s changed. Curious if he still feel the same after all this time.Because I do.
I glance over at the red neon sign across the road. Warm light spills through the windows. A couple of people are sitting inside, far enough to keep things private, close enough to keep things grounded.
"Okay"I say finally, my voice steady.He nods once, then starts walking without another word. I fall into step beside him, keeping just enough space between us to make it clear this isn’t familiar anymore but not enough to make it look like we’re strangers.
He holds the diner door open when we reach it. I walk in without saying thank you, and he doesn’t wait for one.
Just like before.

Jin's POV
The air inside the diner is warm.It smells faintly of coffee that’s been sitting too long, something fried, and the artificial sweetness of vanilla syrup. The sound of the rain dulls against the windows, now just a quiet background hum.
There are maybe four other people scattered across the booths. a delivery guy hunched over his phone, a middle-aged couple sharing a plate of fries without talking, and a girl with headphones typing on a laptop in the corner. It’s quiet enough that every movement feels louder than it is. I walk a few steps ahead of YN, scanning the space before choosing a booth near the far end, not too close to the windows, not too close to the others.
I slides into one side of the booth and watch her hesitate for a beat before sitting across from me.
I watched her stir her coffee even though she hadn’t added anything to it.
It had been months, long enough for me to memorize the silence she left behind. But not long enough to unlearn the habits I built around her. I still caught myself scanning places for her. Still instinctively slowed down when passing that one bookstore she liked. Still knew how she took her coffee, even though I didn’t know who she’d become without me.
Now here she was, sitting across from me again like no time had passed at all, except everything had.
Her words echoed in my head.
“It isn’t because I stopped loving you. It is because I stopped believing it made sense for YOU to love me.”
I blink out of the flashback, letting go of the memory that had briefly pulled me under. When I look across the table, she’s still seated exactly as before shoulders a little tense, fingers wrapped around a lukewarm coffee mug. That’s all she’s had. One cup. Nothing else.
“You should eat something,” I say, keeping my tone even. “Order freely. Dinner’s on me.”
She glances up at me, one brow arching. “Still going around flexing that CEO money, huh?”
I let out a quiet scoff, leaning back against the booth, arms crossed loosely. “And you’re still going around starving yourself.”
Her smirk fades a little.
“I mean, back then I was pretty convinced you’d starve yourself to death without me reminding you to eat. And now, seeing you again…” I trail off slightly, eyes scanning her face. “You don’t exactly look far from it.”
There’s a beat of silence.
Her grip tightens just slightly on the mug, but she doesn’t fire back this time. The words hang there sharp, but laced with concern I don’t bother hiding.
I add, softer now, “Just order something. Please.”
She doesn’t look at me right away, but her hand reaches for the menu.
She flips the menu open slowly, scanning it like it’s written in another language. Her eyes barely move across the page. It’s obvious she’s not really looking.
I sigh quietly and reach for the other menu. “You know what, never mind. I’ll order for you.”
Her head snaps up. “What?”
“You always take too long anyway,” I say, already skimming the options. “And you end up getting the same two things every time.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “You don’t even know what I like anymore.”
" I can to bet my ass, you’d still go for pancakes even at midnight.”I reply, flipping the menu shut.
She opens her mouth, then closes it again.
“Thought so,” I say, signaling the waitress. “One stack of pancakes. Extra syrup. And eggs on the side, scrambled. She won’t ask for them, but she’ll eat them if they’re there.”
The waitress writes it down without question, looking mildly amused.
Y/N stares at me for a moment. “You’re still annoying, you know that?”
“And you’re still bad at hiding when you’re relieved someone else made the choice.”
She huffs under her breath, but there’s the ghost of a smile pulling at the corner of her mouth.
The waitress walks off with the order slip, leaving the two of us in the quiet bubble of our booth again. Outside, the rain has turned into a faint mist, the wet streetlights blurring softly through the windows.
Y/N leans back in her seat, arms crossed loosely. “You always did this,” she mutters.
“Did what?”
“Act like you know me better than I know myself.”
I tilt my head slightly. “Did I ever turn out to be wrong?”
She doesn’t answer. Just shifts her gaze toward the window and shrugs like she doesn’t want to admit it.
A minute passes. Maybe two.
She hasn’t said anything, just keeps tracing slow circles along the side of her mug. Her coffee’s gone cold, but she doesn’t seem to notice.
“I looked for you,” I say quietly, the words slipping out like I’ve been holding them for too long.
She looks up, brows slightly drawn. Not defensive — just startled.
“After you ended things,” I continue. “I didn’t just... move on.”
She says nothing, so I keep going.
“I went to your apartment a few days after. You weren’t there. Your number was off. You didn’t post anything. It was like you vanished.”
Her lips press together, but she still doesn’t interrupt.
“I even asked your parents.”
Her eyes widen slightly. That catches her off guard.
“I knew you weren’t exactly on good terms with them,” I add. “But I was desperate. I nearly begged them just to tell me where you were. I wasn’t trying to win you back or make a scene. I just—”
I pause.
“I just wanted to talk to you. One last time. Properly.”
She finally speaks, voice lower than before. “You talked to my parents?”
I nod. “They told me to leave it alone. Said you didn’t want to be found. That if I cared about you, I’d respect that.”
Y/N looks away again, jaw clenching like she’s trying not to react too much. A tiny flash of guilt crosses her face, but it fades quickly.
“I didn’t ask them to say that,” she says after a moment.
“I figured.”
I lean forward a little, elbows resting on the edge of the table.“I just needed to tell you that I looked,” I say. “Even if it didn’t matter anymore.”
We sit there, the silence between us no longer stiff, but still full of everything we haven’t said. I don’t push it. I let the moment hang there, not needing to fill it.
The clatter of plates approaching interrupts us before either of us can speak again. The waitress reappears with a practiced smile and a stack of warm dishes in her arms.
“Here we go,” she says, sliding the plate in front of Y/N first. “Pancakes, syrup on the side, and scrambled eggs.”
She places a smaller plate in front of me, something I picked quickly without thinking. I don’t even remember what I ordered.
“Let me know if you need anything else,” she adds before walking off again, her gum popping faintly as she disappears behind the counter.
The table fills with the scent of warm butter and sugar. The steam rising from the food curls in the space between us. Y/N stares at her plate like it caught her off guard.
“You even remembered the eggs,” she mutters.
“I told you,” I reply, reaching for my fork. “You don’t ask for them, but you always eat them.”
She doesn’t argue this time. Just cuts into the pancakes and slowly brings a bite to her mouth.
I glance at her as she chews. She swallows like it’s the first real food she’s had all day.
She takes another bite.
Then another.
For a few minutes, we just eat. No words. No questions. Just the soft clink of cutlery and the low hum of the diner around us. It feels... normal.
Or something close to it.
She takes another sip of her coffee. I watch her carefully the way her eyes drop to the mug, the way she exhales like she’s almost ready to let her shoulders relax.
I set my fork down and ask, casually but not without weight, “How have you been in Busan?”
She glances up, surprised. Maybe at the question, maybe at the fact that I asked it so simply.
A pause.
Then she shifts slightly in her seat. “Fine,It’s… quieter than Seoul,” she says. “But also lonelier.”
I nod. “It can be.”
“There’s less noise, which I thought I’d like. It was peaceful to be honest.”
I lean back a little, just watching her as she speaks. Her voice isn’t bitter. Just honest. Flat in the way people sound when they’ve already talked themselves out of the emotions behind the words.
“I worked odd jobs for a bit,” she continues. “Did some freelance writing. Helped a friend's design studio for a while mostly admin. Nothing important.”
“It doesn’t have to be important to count,” I say.
She smiles faintly. “Still annoyingly good at saying things like that.I wanted to find an HR job.”
I return the smile, just a little. “You told me you came here because you got offered a job.”
She takes another small bite of her food, chews, swallows. “I lied ok. I thought starting over somewhere else would fix everything,” she admits. “Or at least give me space to figure things out.”
“And did it?”
She shrugs. “It gave me a mirror. I thought getting away from Seoul, from everything... would help me stop hearing those voices. But I brought them with me.”
She lets out a quiet sigh, tracing circles on the side of her mug.
After a moment, she looks up and asks softly, “How has your company been? What kind of meeting brought you to Busan?”
I blink, caught a little off guard by the question but grateful for the shift.
“It’s been steady,” I say, keeping my tone even. “We’ve had some challenges, but things are stabilizing.”
“I was here for a client meeting,” I continue. “A big project opportunity. It was supposed to be a quick trip.”
She nods slowly, biting her lip like she’s still trying to process it.
“And you didn’t know I was here?” she asks.
“No,” I admit. “I didn’t.”
She stares out the window for a moment, then back at me.
“Funny how things work out.”
I give a small, tired smile.
I watch her carefully, then ask gently, “So… were you going back tonight?”
"yeah I missed Seoul. I don't wanna live her anymore."
"hmmm"
"Aren't you going back to your hotel."
"Checked out. Well, I guess we’re stuck here for a while.”
She shrugs, folding her hands on the table. “Could be worse.”
The rain outside has slowed to a gentle drizzle. The diner’s warmth wraps around us like a small refuge from everything outside.
We settle into quiet conversation, the hours stretching gently ahead, like two people learning to share space again.

YN's POV
The diner had started to quiet down, the hum of late-night traffic replaced by the occasional hiss of tires on wet pavement.Our plates were mostly empty, mugs half full with lukewarm coffee neither us had touched in a while.
That’s when the door swings open again, letting in a gust of damp air and two girls, maybe college-aged, giggling as they enter. They scan the room briefly before walking past their booth.
They're loud, not yelling, just… not trying to be discreet either.
“Oh my god, he’s so handsome,” one of them says, a little too loudly.
“Right? But he has a girl with him,” the other adds, slowing just slightly as they pass behind me.
Then the dagger hits.
“There’s no way someone that handsome is dating that uggo. Must be like .... his sister or something.” “Or, like, his assistant. No way that’s his girlfriend.”
I feel Jin's gaze harden like he is control himself from saying something.
They snicker as they move past us, settling into a booth on the other side of the diner like they didn’t just lob a grenade across our table.
I sigh as I start gathering my things,"Thanks for the meal"
"You're leaving?"
"It's morning already, I need to wait at the station so I don't miss the next train."
"YN, it is 4 in the morning the train will not come till 7. you'll freeze."he says exasperated.
I ignore the concern. It is easier that way.
I get up from the table then bend down with a fake smile."Nice meeting you Seokjin" I take his name on purpose so he gets reminded that we are not exactly on the terms for me to call him jin. And I walk away.

Author's pov
Jin doesn’t say anything at first. His jaw ticks slightly, and then he stands, steady, calm, but with that barely there fire simmering behind his eyes.
He walks over to the girls’ booth, his expression unreadable, every step deliberate.
"Excuse me," he says, voice low and even.
One of the girls, clearly not expecting him to approach, straightens up instantly. "Oh! H-hi..." she says, flashing a nervous smile, suddenly trying to look charming.
Jin doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t smile. Doesn’t soften. He simply looks her dead in the eye.
"That woman who was sitting with me? She’s my girlfriend." His voice cuts clean through the air, sharp and direct.
The girls blink, stunned, their smug expressions dissolving in real time.
"And personally," he continues, tone unwavering, "I think she’s prettier than both of you combined".
He doesn't wait for their reply and doesn’t give them the dignity of a shocked gasp or a flustered excuse.
He turns and leaves, just as sharp, just as sure, pushing the door open as the bell above it jangles in protest.
He watches you, the outline of your figure getting smaller as you walk briskly through the misty air toward the station. Your coat flutters slightly in the wind, your shoulders squared, your steps quick like you're running from something or someone.
Jin doesn’t waste another second.
"Y/N!" he calls out once.
You don’t stop. Maybe you didn’t hear him. Maybe you did and just chose to pretend you didn't.
He quickens his pace, jogging to catch up.
You’re nearly at the station steps when you feel it, his hand wrapping gently around your arm. Not rough. Not demanding. Just… steady. Like he's trying to anchor you.
You freeze.
Slowly, you turn toward him, face blank, your expression tired and unreadable.
“What now, Seokjin?” you ask, not with anger... just exhaustion.
He doesn’t let go. His grip is gentle, fingers warm even in the cold air.
“Don’t do this,” he says quietly. “Don’t shut me out like that again. Not like this.”
You look down, blinking hard.
“We had dinner. We talked. That’s more closure than most people get.”
“I’m not asking for closure,” he says, taking a step closer. “I never was.”
Your breath catches, but you say nothing.
“You think I didn’t notice what those girls said?” he continues, voice calm but firm. “You think I didn’t see what it did to you?”
You wrap your arms around yourself, fingers digging into the sleeves of your coat. “They were right.” Your voice is a whisper, heavy. “You don’t have to defend me. I’ve heard it all before.”
“But I’ll keep saying it,” Jin replies. “They were wrong.”
You glance up at him, and for a moment, you forget how to breathe. His eyes are steady, unflinching, full of the same warmth you used to find shelter in.
“You keep trying to fix the cracks like they’re temporary,” you say, struggling to keep your voice even. “But I live with them. I am them.” You say almost riled.
He shakes his head slowly. “No. You’re more than that. You always were.”
His words settle into the space between you, and it’s so quiet you can hear the distant hum of the early train announcements echoing from the platform.
“You didn’t have to come after me,” you murmur, not meeting his gaze.
You look at him, finally really look at him. The same face, the same steady eyes, the same voice that once felt like home. And it hurts. Because it still feels like home.
But it shouldn’t.
Your voice comes out quieter than you expect, but sharp around the edges. "Jin… you’re not my boyfriend anymore. Stop caring."
There’s a flicker in his expression. Not shock he was probably expecting you to push back but it still hits him. The way his jaw tightens, the way his eyes shift ever so slightly, like he's absorbing the weight of every word.
He takes a breath.
"I know I’m not," he says evenly. "But I don’t think love just turns off when someone walks away."
You flinch slightly. He saw it.
"You asked me once why I stayed," he continues, voice lower now, like he’s talking just to you even though there’s no one else around. "And I told you I stayed because I loved you. Not because you were perfect. Not because other people approved. I stayed because you were you."
"And I left because I couldn’t be that person anymore. Not for you. Not even for myself."
The silence between you is heavy.
Jin doesn’t move closer this time. He stays right where he is, eyes steady, hands at his sides.
"I get that," he says softly. "But just because you walked away doesn’t mean I stopped hoping you’d find your way back to yourself."
You blink, fast.
And then, just as quietly, he adds, "I don’t care if I’m not your boyfriend. I’ll still worry when you haven’t eaten. I’ll still get pissed when people talk about you like they did tonight. And I’ll still show up even when you don’t ask me to."
Your throat tightens. You hate how much you want to believe him. How much a part of you never stopped wishing someone would care like that and mean it.
"You shouldn’t wait around for someone who broke your heart."
He gives a faint smile. Not the teasing kind. The tired kind, the kind people give when they’ve already made peace with their decision.
"Too late," he says.
Your fingers curl tighter around the strap of your bag, nails digging into the fabric like it’s the only thing holding you up.
You let out a breath that’s more frustration than air and look at him really look at him and this time there’s no softness left in your voice.
"Are you really here to tell me all the shit we argued about all the time?"
The words hang there, blunt and bare. No sugarcoating. No careful distance.
Jin blinks, not because he’s surprised, but because he’s letting them sink in.
You don’t stop.
"You know what we were like. You know how much we fought. About everything. About how I saw myself. About how you saw me. About how I couldn’t believe you weren’t lying when you said I was enough."
You pause, breath catching.
"And now here you are, acting like we can just talk it all out over pancakes in a booth like nothing happened. Like it didn’t break me to walk away."
For a second, you expect him to defend himself. To say it wasn’t like that. To pull out some polished line about love being messy and real.
But he doesn’t.
He looks at you, really looks at you and then nods, slow and deliberate.
"Yeah," he says finally. "We did argue. A lot."
You raise your brows, surprised at the honesty.
"And I hated every second of it," he continues. "Because every time we fought, it felt like I was losing pieces of you. But I never hated you. I never resented you for feeling what you felt."
He steps forward, just once, voice calm but firm.
"I’m not here to relive it all. I’m here because despite everything, I never stopped thinking you were worth fighting for. Even when you weren’t ready to fight for yourself."
The street is quiet. The mist has turned into a cold drizzle again, soft but persistent. You can hear your heartbeat louder than anything else.
"But I’m not trying to rewrite what happened," he adds. "I’m just trying to show you that it didn’t scare me away."
You look away before your voice cracks. "Well, it scared me."
You jerk your arm away from his touch like it burned. The distance between you widens again, not in steps, but in something heavier.
Your voice shakes, but you don’t let it crack. Not now.
"Let’s go back to the way our lives were without each other, Jin," you say, eyes locked on his. "Because yours was much more peaceful without me."
He opens his mouth to protest, but you don’t give him the chance.
"Without people judging you for your choice. Whispering behind your back. Saying you were too good for me, that someone like you shouldn’t be with someone like me."
You laugh bitterly, but it doesn’t sound like you find anything funny. "Maybe they were right. Because I started believing them. And I know it’s not fair to put that on you, but I lived with it. Every day."
Your chest rises and falls with every word you’ve held in for far too long. The rain taps steadily around you, matching the rhythm of everything you’re trying to keep contained.
Jin doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak.
You take a breath, shaky but determined.
"You don’t deserve someone who needs convincing that she’s worthy of being loved. You deserve ease. Joy. Peace."
You motion back toward the diner with a tilt of your head. "Not moments like this at 4 in the morning outside a train station with a girl who’s been running from her own reflection."
You look away, blinking up at the flickering lights above the platform.
"So let’s just… stop pretending we didn’t already end."
Your throat feels tight, like every word scraped its way out.
You don’t wait for him to respond this time. You can’t. Because if he says something soft, something honest you’re afraid it’ll undo everything you just built to walk away again.
You turn.
Your boots hit the pavement with heavy, certain steps. The platform’s in sight again, cold metal benches under buzzing lights, the sky just beginning to lighten with a dull gray. The train won’t come for hours, but it doesn’t matter. You need the distance.
From him.
From this.
From the part of you that still, stupidly, wants to believe what he said.
You hear his footsteps behind you light, cautious.
And something in you snaps.
You stop suddenly and whirl around.
"Don’t follow me."
Your voice is sharp. Not loud, but it cuts through the silence like glass breaking on tile.
Jin freezes.
You meet his eyes , really meet them and this time, it’s not pain or anger that shines through yours. It’s exhaustion. It’s finality.
You turn again, slowly, and this time, he stays behind.

You sit on the far end of the bench, the metal biting through your coat, cold seeping through the fabric like it belongs there. You pull your knees in slightly and wrap your arms around yourself, trying to get warm.
Jin sits at the opposite end, not too far, not too close but the space between you feels like a canyon. The kind you don’t cross unless someone builds a bridge, and right now… no one’s in the mood to build anything.
The silence stretches, long and unbroken, filled only by the low hum of the station lights and the distant echo of a vending machine wheezing back to life after a coin drop. Neither of you moves. Neither of you speaks.
You don’t even need to look at him to feel his presence it’s thick and familiar, like a coat you used to wear every day but haven’t touched in months. You hate that it still fits.
The rain has slowed to a fine mist now, coating the glass walls of the station in fog and condensation. Tiny droplets trickle down like slow-moving tears, and for some reason, you watch them instead of blinking.
There’s something comforting about focusing on anything but him. The way the overhead fluorescent light flickers. The occasional static announcement over the loudspeaker that no one is around to hear. The scratch of your sleeve against your skin as you adjust it again and again just for something to do.
You can feel your heartbeat not racing, not calm. Just… there. Reminding you that this is real. That he’s really here. That you're really sitting beside someone who once knew how to calm every storm in your chest and who now sits quietly, like he's not sure if he's still allowed to.
Part of you wants him to say something. Anything. Part of you dreads it.
You glance at him once, from the corner of your eye. He’s leaning forward slightly, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together. His eyes are on the tracks unmoving, unreadable. His brow furrows just slightly, like he’s deep in thought or trying not to be.
He looks like someone who’s carrying something heavy and pretending it doesn’t hurt.
You look away before he can sense your stare.
The cold creeps in deeper. Your stomach knots with that quiet ache that always shows up after a confrontation, when the adrenaline fades and you’re left with the debris.
At one point, he shifts, just barely. The bench creaks. You think he’s about to say something, maybe even your name, but he doesn’t. He just sighs, slow and quiet.
The train isn’t due for another two hours. You already checked. You both know it.
Still, neither of you leaves.
It’s strange, sitting in silence with someone who used to fill your world with noise. Not the loud kind, the kind that mattered. The kind that made mornings softer and nights feel safe. The kind of presence you didn’t even realize you'd built a rhythm around until it was gone.
You feel that rhythm still, echoing in this stillness.
You catch yourself remembering the way his hand used to find yours without asking. The way he used to touch your wrist in passing, casually, gently, as if to say “I’m here.” You remember the way you’d lean into him without thinking during long waits like this one, and the way your legs used to tangle beneath cafe tables without either of you noticing until someone pointed it out.
Now your legs are tucked away from his. Your arms are folded tight against your chest. And there’s a distance between you that feels like a decision.
Still, he hasn’t left.
And neither have you.
Time passes slowly, like the station itself is holding its breath.
You glance at the clock. 6:02 a.m.
Another hour.
You shift your weight, your back aching from sitting so long in one position. He notices you can feel it. But he doesn’t speak. Neither do you. The silence isn’t aggressive. It isn’t even awkward. It’s just… full. Of everything that’s been unsaid for months.
A pigeon flutters overhead, rustling somewhere near the ceiling beams. It draws your attention for a moment, and for some reason, that’s the moment your breath stutters.
Because there’s something heartbreakingly ordinary about sitting on a bench at 6 a.m. next to the person you once imagined a forever with and now, you can’t even bring yourself to meet his eyes.
You don’t know what hurts more the silence, or how easy it is to fall back into it with him.
And then, without warning, the tears start to fall.
Not in a flood or with any grand gesture, no loud sobs or desperate gasps for air but slow, quiet, almost shy. Like raindrops inching their way down a fogged-up windowpane on a cold morning. They slide gently down your cheeks, tracing paths you forgot were there.
You try to stop them. You brush them away. But, they just fall, one by one, as if releasing a tiny fragment of the weight you’ve been carrying for far too long.
You stare down at your hands resting limply in your lap, trembling just enough to remind you that you’re still here, still holding on, still breathing, still human.
The tears don’t come from some sudden heartbreak; they come from the slow unraveling of months, maybe years, of quiet pain that finally found a way out. The loneliness of walking away from something you loved but couldn’t save. The exhaustion of fighting a war inside your own mind, one where you were both the soldier and the enemy.
Each tear is a word left unsaid, a memory tucked away, a hurt you tried to bury deep.
You remember the nights you spent staring at the ceiling, replaying every argument, every moment you wished could have been different. The mornings when you didn’t recognize your reflection, the days when the mirror whispered cruel lies, and the nights when the silence screamed louder than any voice.
And now, here you are sitting on a cold metal bench in an empty train station at dawn, with the one person who once told you you were enough, and yet somehow, it still doesn’t feel that way.
Jin shifts beside you, just slightly careful, like he’s afraid one wrong move might shatter the fragile peace between you. His gaze flickers toward your face, catching the faint glisten of tears in the dim morning light, but he doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t reach out to touch you, doesn’t offer empty comfort or words you’re not ready to hear.
He waits.
Sometimes, you realize, waiting is the kindest thing someone can do.
You take a shaky breath, the cold air filling your lungs mixed with a faint trace of his scent that subtle, clean cologne you remember so well. It used to be comforting. Now it’s bittersweet, like a song stuck on repeat in the back of your mind.
The tears continue to fall, each one a tiny surrender, a small act of bravery. Because it takes courage to let yourself feel when you’ve spent so long hiding.
You blink, and the world feels so hard somehow with the harsh edges of regret and anger .
The distant rumble of the train grows louder, breaking through the quiet like a steady heartbeat returning to life. It’s a reminder that time moves forward, even when you don’t want it to.
You look up, your eyes red-rimmed and raw.
But sitting there beside you in the silence, in the waiting, in the tears is someone who hasn’t left. Someone who, despite everything, is still there.
You pull your coat tighter around yourself, refusing to meet Jin’s eyes. The silence between you is thick, uncomfortable not the quiet peace of mutual understanding, but the heavy weight of two people who’ve built walls they’re not ready to tear down.
The train pulls into the station with a screech of metal, doors sliding open with a hiss. Warm light spills onto the platform, and a few early commuters step off, unaware of the storm sitting quietly on this bench.
You stand, stiff and reluctant, your hands clenched in the pockets of your coat.
Jin rises too, standing close but not close enough to bridge the gap you’ve created.
You don’t look at him. You don’t smile. You don’t reach out.
You just step forward, the cold biting your cheeks as you move toward the open doors.
The train waits just long enough for you to board, and as the doors slide shut behind you, you glance back only once.
Jin also boards expression unreadable, the space between you both vast and unyielding.
You don’t know what the future holds. You only know that for now, this distance feels necessary.
And that some journeys must begin alone.
Your eyes sweep the cabin quickly. Most seats are taken, heads bowed over phones or lost in sleep. You don’t want to sit near anyone you know. Not tonight. Not after everything.
Then you spot a lone empty seat next to a middle-aged man. He’s dressed simply a plain shirt, slightly wrinkled pants and looks absorbed in his phone, fingers scrolling absently. His presence seems safe enough.
Without hesitation, you slip into the seat beside him, your body tense but relieved. You fix your gaze on the window, watching the city lights smear into long streaks as the train begins to move.
You tell yourself: anything but sitting near Jin.
But you don’t notice the man beside you shifting subtly, adjusting his position just enough to angle his phone downward too low, too close.
You don’t realize what he’s doing at first. The camera angle is hidden, the screen shielded from your view.
A faint click.
You’re focused on the window, lost in your thoughts and the blur of lights.
Another click.
The knot in your stomach tightens, but you tell yourself it’s nothing, that it couldn’t be.
But when you finally glance sideways catching the corner of his phone peeking under the edge of your skirt a cold spike of panic shoots through you.
His eyes flicker up briefly, meeting yours just for a moment before dropping back to his screen, calm, unreadable.
Your breath hitches. Your heart pounds.
You want to move, to speak, to scream but your limbs freeze, trapped by shock and disbelief.
You clutch your bag tightly, trying to cover yourself as much as you can without drawing attention.
The train hums forward, the rhythmic clatter of wheels against tracks filling the heavy silence between your racing thoughts.
Around you, the world keeps turning unaware, uncaring.
You bite your lip, forcing your breathing to slow, trying to think clearly.
Who do you tell? What do you do? The man beside you pretends nothing is wrong, scrolling lazily like a predator in plain sight.
You shift again, pulling your coat lower, trying to shield yourself.
You remind yourself to stay calm, to protect yourself, to be strong.
Jin’s eyes flicker toward you, scanning your face and posture with a sharpness that hadn’t been there earlier. He notices the subtle tension in your shoulders, the way your hands clutch your bag tighter than necessary, and most of all the quick, almost imperceptible sideways glances you keep throwing toward the man beside you.
His gaze sharpens as he follows your line of sight, catching the slight angle of the man’s phone under the edge of your skirt.
His jaw tightens.
Jin slides out of his seat and moves quietly to stand beside you
"Hey, you get up"The man’s eyes flicker up at Jin, a flicker of hesitation flashing across his face before he quickly masks it with indifference and get up.
You glance up to see jin taking the man's phone as the security suddenly comes in. The phone is given to the security and the man is escorted out at the next station.
Sliding into the seat beside you, Jin glances towards you.
"If I was still your boyfriend I would've handled him with more than just that"You feel him lean in, his presence pressing in like an unspoken promise and a challenge all at once.
The train glides smoothly along the tracks, its steady rhythm a quiet heartbeat in the night. Outside the window, the darkness begins to break apart, giving way to the faint outlines of Seoul’s sprawling skyline. Small clusters of lights flicker like distant stars, the city slowly waking up from its slumber.
You watch as familiar buildings come into view some towering high with their sleek glass facades, others smaller and worn, bearing the marks of time and countless stories. The streets below are quiet now, only a few cars threading their way through the empty roads, their headlights casting soft pools of light.
Inside the train, the atmosphere feels suspended between movement and stillness. Jin remains seated beside you, his presence solid but not intrusive. Neither of you speak. The silence isn’t uncomfortable; it’s simply the space between two people who once knew each other well but now occupy a place somewhere in between familiarity and distance.
You steal a glance at him his face calm, eyes distant as they gaze out the window. There’s no bitterness, no anger, only a quiet reserve. His jaw is set, and for a moment you wonder what he’s thinking. Does he feel the same weight you do? Or is this just another night, another train ride that neither of you wanted but had to endure?
The soft murmur of other passengers stirs around you. A few shift in their seats, some gather their bags, and low conversations blend with the rustle of coats and the tapping of fingers on phone screens. The hum of the train and the collective sounds create a muted backdrop, contrasting with the stillness between you and Jin.
You return your gaze to the window, watching the city edge draw closer. Neon signs begin to blink on, restaurants opening their doors for the morning rush, convenience stores lighting up with familiar logos, and street lamps illuminating sidewalks slick with rain from earlier.
Then, unexpectedly, you feel him resting his head on your shoulder. It’s light, tentative, as if he’s testing the waters of closeness you both left behind. The weight of him there is surprising, grounding and unsettling all at once.
But you don’t move away. Instead, you let the quiet settle between you, the silence filling with something unspoken but understood. The city outside blurs past, but here, in this small space, time feels suspended.
The train begins to slow, the brakes hissing softly, but for this moment, you just sit still, letting him lean in, even if only briefly.
The train slows further, the gentle screech of the brakes signaling your approach to the station. You straighten slightly, still feeling the lingering warmth of his head on your shoulder, a quiet reminder of the fragile connection between you.
You grab your bag firmly, ready to stand, but hesitate just a moment, glancing sideways at him. His eyes meet yours steady, unreadable and without a word, you both move toward the doors.
The doors slide open with a soft whoosh, and the cool rush of station air brushes over you. Stepping out, the scent of damp concrete and faint city sounds greet you, grounding you back to reality.
You walk forward, the weight of the night before and the journey pressing lightly on your shoulders. Behind you, Jin follows silently, close but not too close, a silent acknowledgment that this moment is ending.
As the train pulls away, the lights inside dim, and the city outside pulses with its own rhythm, indifferent to the quiet goodbye unfolding on the platform.
You take a breath and step fully into the morning, carrying with you everything that was, everything that is, and the space in between.
You step off the platform and head toward the station exit, your steps quickening as the morning chill brushes against your face. The city is awake now, cars humming by, early risers hustling to work, and the pale blue of dawn creeping in from the horizon. You pause at the curb, lifting your hand to hail a cab, when a firm hand catches your arm from behind.
You freeze.
“Wait—” Jin’s voice is breathless, like he hadn’t meant to call out but couldn’t stop himself.
You turn slightly, your expression guarded, your body stiff.
He looks at you, eyes scanning your face like he’s trying to memorize it again. “You changed your number.”
You don't answer, not right away. It’s not a question anyway. It’s an observation tinged with something tired frustration, maybe. Or disappointment.
He exhales, rubbing the back of his neck briefly before meeting your gaze again.
“Just give me the new one,” he says, softer this time. “Please.”
The cab slows and pulls up beside you, its headlights cutting through the pale morning haze. The driver leans over to roll the window down, but you lift a hand to gesture for him to wait.
You stare at him for a moment longer, debating. Part of you wants to turn away, to get in the cab, close the door, and let the city swallow this whole night like it never happened.
But another part, the quieter, more tired part knows that if you don’t, he’ll still be standing here when the cab drives off. Still waiting. Still hoping. Still looking at you like that.
You sigh, dig into your coat pocket, and pull out your phone. Your fingers move quickly, typing the number without looking at him.
You hold it out to him, screen facing up.
He blinks, almost surprised you did it.
“You better not start texting me paragraphs at 3 a.m.,” you say flatly, trying to keep your tone light.
“I won’t. Unless it’s really important. Like life-or-death.”He nods lightly biting his inner cheek in shyness, he feels like a school girl who's crush hinted that he also likes him because after months he is finally allowing himself to hope that you will come back again.
You slide into the cab, shutting the door behind you. He steps back from the curb, hands in his coat pockets, watching.
The driver asks for your destination. You give it without turning your head.
As the cab pulls away, you steal one last glance through the rear window.
He’s still there.
Still watching.
Still waiting that maybe that missed train will lead to something much more than just dinner with you.

One week later
Your screen lights up jerking you up from sleep with a call from “Seokjin 🌚” and for a second, you stare at it like it personally insulted you. Because It’s 2 in the morning,You haven’t spoken to him since the train,WHY is he calling at 2 a.m. and why do you still have his name saved like that?
You pick up, already half-scowling. “Are you dying?”
“No. Well, emotionally, yes, but not in the ‘call an ambulance’ way.” His voice is way too awake. You hear typing in the background.
“Then this better be a mistake.”
“It’s not,” he says brightly. “Actually, I’m calling to invite you to my company tomorrow.”
You blink. “I’m sorry, did you just… 2 a.m.-booty-call me for a business meeting?”
“Not business,”
You sigh deeply. “I’m hanging up.”
“Wait! Just one hour. I need to show you something.”
“Jin—”
“And coffee. From that overpriced place you like.”
“…You bribed me with coffee?”
“And curiosity. You’re curious, admit it.”
You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Fine. One hour. No weird metaphors.”
He cackles. “See you at 11.”
The next day you walk in to find him setting up a projector.
He’s wearing a suit. No jacket. No tie. Just a crooked red bowtie like he’s a magician about to pull a bunny out of heartbreak.
“What are you wearing?” you ask flatly.
“It’s presentation couture,” he says, clicking the remote with flair."Are you serious?" “I present to you: ‘Exes to Lovers: A Case Study Featuring Two Idiots.’”
You blink.
“Subtitled: ‘Why You Should Consider Taking Back This Hot Mess of a Man.’”
Slide 1: Top 5 Reasons We Broke Up (And Why 4.5 Were Insecurity)
You cross your arms. “You really gave yourself only half the blame?”
“The .5 is generous,” he defends. “I only didn’t say things right. You stopped believing them at all.”
Slide 2: Visual Timeline of Our Relationship
[Photos or drawn stick figures of: – First awkward hug – Our beach trip – That terrible ramen place we pretended to like – Her sleepy face in my hoodie – Our last photo before the breakup]
You stare at the photos — beach trips, sleepy selfies, ramen nights.
“That one—” you point, “I was mad at you for two hours before that pic.”
He laughs. “You looked so cute while mad, I risked a selfie.”
“I hated that ramen.”
“I loved you anyway.”
That shuts you up for a second.
Slide 3: Things We Love (Venn Diagram)
“Wait—you listed me under ‘your hobbies’?”
“Correct. Alongside food, chaos, and bad jokes.”
“Rude.”
“You were the hobby.”
You roll your eyes. You’re still not uncrossing your arms. But your mouth twitches.
Slide 4: Scientific Evidence That You Are Hot
93% of my friends were jealous
87% of people who saw us thought you were out of my league
100% of photos confirm: you = gorgeous
1 dumb stranger in a diner ≠ reality (Peer-reviewed by: Me, my mom, and every mirror I’ve seen you in.)
You almost choke on your coffee.
“Did you seriously put a chart—”
“Peer-reviewed.”
“By your mom?!”
“She said you’re prettier than me. And she’s never wrong.”
You shake your head but can’t fight the tiny smirk on your lips.
Slide 5: What I Learned After You Left
I don’t like scrambled eggs without you stealing half of mine
I should’ve fought harder to make you feel secure
Love needs more than words — it needs showing up, even when it’s uncomfortable.
“I don’t want to fix you,” he adds. “I just want to be beside you while you learn to see what I already do.”
Your heart flips. You hate him a little for it.
Slide 6: My Qualifications as Your Future (Again) Boyfirend
Have emotionally matured (slightly)
Learned active listening (thank you therapy and TED Talks)
Still remember your coffee order
Have new jokes (worse ones, sorry)
Still in love with you (not sorry)
You mutter, “You misspelled ‘boyfriend.’”
He panics and checks the screen. “What?! Oh god okay, okay just ignore—”
You laugh. A real one. He grins like he just won the lottery.
Slide 7: Rebuttal to Common Objections
He reads them aloud dramatically.
“What if we break up again?” “Then we break better.”
“What if I’m still not enough?” “You’ve always been too much in the best way.”
You go still. That one lands.
Slide 8: My Goals If You Say Yes
“‘Steal my fries without asking’ is not a goal.”
“It’s a dream, Y/N.”
You glance at the last point:
“Make her believe she’s beautiful — not by saying it, but by staying.”
You look away quickly. “Next slide.”
Slide 9: Risks & Outcomes
“Risk: You say no. I cry alone with pancakes.”
“Again,” you mutter.
“Outcome: You say yes. We try. Maybe we fail. But I’ll never let you wonder if I loved you.”
Slide 10: Conclusion — I Love You
No fancy fonts.
Just a line of text:
You don’t have to believe you’re perfect. Just believe I’m not lying. Please don’t make me lie to my mom. She already made rice.
You stare at it.
Then at him.
Then… back at the bowtie.
“How are you a ceo…You’re ridiculous,” you whisper.
“And yet you came.”
You hesitate. But only for a breath.
“One dinner.”
He beams.
Jin grins, flipping through his slides like he owns the place. “How do you think I became a CEO? By being seriously ridiculous and a little stubborn.”
You roll your eyes, smirking. “Yeah, because CEOs definitely spend their nights making PowerPoints and rocking bowties.
for the first time since Busan… You feel like maybe the train didn't come late after all.
Patreon Bonus: What Happens After That Dinner 🛏️ [NSFW + Emotional Intimacy] In the Jin's oneshot membership tier on my page
#bts fanfiction#bts fluff#bts#bts jungkook#bts x reader#bts x y/n#bts x you#bts fic#bts smut#bts fanfction#bts fanfic#bangtan sonyeondan#army#jeon jungkook#bts jk#jungkook fanfiction#jungkook fanfic#jungkook x reader#jungkook x you#jungkook smut#jungkook fic#ot7#jin#jin fic#jin fluff#bts ff#bangtan#jin ff#jin fanfic#seokjin fanfic
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Victor's Main Route: Chapter 14 + Premium Attire Story
< Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter >
The premium story is slightly NSFW (I'd say an M on AO3 as opposed to E, or lime instead of lemon for those that prefer that description)
As I ran without looking where I was going, I tripped over a tree root and fell.
Kate: Ow!
I ended up sliding face first into the mud, and ended up completely covered in dirt. I winced in pain as I pushed myself up, turning my head up to look at the moon. Its faint white glow amplified the chill of night. Drops of rain limited to just my face mixed with the streaks of dirt. It didn’t take me long to realize they were tears.
(I hurt Victor.)
I took out my sadness at being avoided on him. I couldn’t stand how he didn’t want anything in return for everything he had done, and I went a step too far.
(Because of my muddled up feelings, I ended up saying that I wish we had never met.)
I could do nothing except berate my foolishness for saying something so awful.
(I didn’t finish my sentence, but Victor knew what I meant.)
He must have known what I left unsaid. I wanted to know more about him because I liked him. And because I loved him, I wanted him to tell me everything himself. If I had never fallen in love, I wouldn’t have hurt him.
(What am I even doing anymore?)
Ever since I realized my feelings, I’ve done nothing but chase my thoughts around in circles. I wanted Victor to be happy. That’s the only thing that’s been clear since day one. Shaking, I stood up. My skirt was completely ruined, and my knees were skinned.
Kate: …And I call myself an adult.
I snorted as I saw blood run down my knee. Wiping away my tears, I slowly shuffled my way home. But my tears just wouldn’t stop falling until I reached the castle.
-----
Roger: Why didn’t you come to me as soon as you got hurt?
Kate: …Sorry.
The next morning, I was sat in the basement while Roger scolded me.
Roger: Even if you washed it, if bacteria entered through your wound, it could cause infection and irreversible damage.
Kate: You’re right. I’m really sorry.
(The disinfectant really stings, but I’m not in any position to complain right now.)
I sat still as Roger carried out his treatment, my shoulders hunched. After he applied medicine, he wrapped my knees in bandages. And then he crossed his arms and looked down at me.
Roger: Apply this medicine and change the bandages every day. You hear me?
Kate: I understand, I will.
Roger finally seemed satisfied when I nodded in compliance, and he put away the first aid kit.
Roger: So? How’d you get banged up like this in the first place?
Kate: Um, I tripped in the forest…
Roger: You told me that part. I’m asking what caused you to take a fall this big.
He was asking about the root cause of my injuries, but…
Roger: I know you didn’t have any missions yesterday, so why were you out walking in the woods alone at night?
I stayed silent.
(I don’t want to look suspicious, so I know I should answer him… but I don’t want to.)
As I continued to keep my mouth shut, I felt him aggressively ruffle my hair.
Roger: I’m not suspecting you of anything. I’m just asking because there must be a reason. Roger: I’m not gonna force you to answer. But if talking about it will help, I’ll listen. Roger: If anything happened to you, we’re not going to sit back, alright?
Kate: …Yeah. Thanks.
Before I knew it, it was now three weeks since I became Fairytale Keeper. In that time, I felt that the distance between me and Crown had grown smaller.
(My past self would’ve never thought we’d be this close.)
I knew Roger had been genuinely worried about me. All of this only happened because Victor chose to make me Crown’s Fairytale Keeper. As I thought of him, I couldn’t help but recall how pained he looked last night. My heart throbbed.
(...I can’t leave things like this.)
I didn’t even thank him for saving me and just hurt him. If he started avoiding me again, My time at Crown could possibly come to an end without me ever seeing him.
(And if that happens, I’ll never see Victor again for the rest of my life.)
I couldn’t tell him how much I regretted what I said. I wouldn’t be able to tell him my true feelings. I didn’t even want to imagine what it would be like to live the rest of my life like that. Hiding my bandaged knees, I pulled my skirt back into place. And as I was standing up–
Liam: Oh, here you are, Kate!
Kate: Liam, Harrison! What’s the matter?
Roger: Don’t tell me you two are injured too.
Liam: Not today. Hey, Harry–
Harrison: I’m just along for the ride.
Liam used one hand on the railings to vault over the stairs, landing in the basement as Harrison just stared.
Liam: There’s a visiting circus coming to the market today, it looks like there’s going to be a parade too. Liam: This kind of event doesn’t happen everyday, you know! I’m looking for people to go watch it with.
Harrison: He caught me first.
He raised his hand with an annoyed look on his face. However, Liam seemed to be able to tell that he didn’t really mind, and threw his arm around Harrison’s shoulder.
Liam: What about you two?
Roger: Pass. I’ve got things to do.
Roger refused point-blank as he picked up a test tube and began shaking it.
Roger: You guys should drag that depressed lump over there with you.
Kate: Are you talking about me?
Roger: You see any other depressed lumps here?
He gestured with his chin, wordlessly telling Liam and Harrison to hurry up.
Liam: Do you want to come, Kate?
Like Liam could tell that something was up, his tone of voice softened as he invited me along. I couldn’t refuse.
-----
Kate: Wow!
A performer danced down the street, leading a man riding atop a giant ball. Then there was a juggler, and a man performing magic tricks while walking. The crowd was captivated by the circus troupe’s various acts as they paraded down the street.
Harrison: It’s packed today. Liam, Kate, make sure you don’t get lost.
Liam: Okay~ How are you holding up, Kate?
Kate: I’m fine, still here.
Liam: Let’s go look for a better spot to watch from. Hold onto me to make sure we don’t lose each other.
I grabbed onto Liam’s sleeve and we followed behind Harrison as he snaked through the crowd. Upbeat music filled the air as the circus troupe scattered flower petals into the air. The cheers of the crowd was deafening. As I watched the petals drift in the air, it put my heart at ease. We found a slightly less crowded spot and stopped.
Liam: What a show.
Harrison: If this was the theater it’d be a full house, huh.
One of the petals drifted near my hand, and I reflexively caught it.
Liam: Nice catch! I want to try too.
Harrison merely sighed as Liam leaped into the air while reaching for a petal. However–
Harrison: Your face.
Kate: Huh?
Harrison: It’s looking better than before.
I subconsciously reached for my face. Liam looked back worriedly at me.
Kate: I feel better thanks to you two. Thank you both.
At my words, Liam beamed.
Harrison: It was that geezer’s fault, wasn’t it?
Who knows, it could have been your fault, Harrison.
How did you know? (+4/+4)
…I thought I was hiding that…
Kate: How did you know?
Harrison: Whenever you have a lot on your mind or something’s bothering you, it’s almost always related to Victor.
Liam: You never noticed? Liam: We don’t know exactly what happened, but if there’s anything bothering you, you can always talk to us. Liam: You can rely on us when you’re feeling down.
Liam’s words reminded me of Roger’s earlier.
Roger: I’m not gonna force you to answer. But if talking about it will help, I’ll listen. Roger: If anything happened to you, we’re not going to sit back, alright?
Kate: Roger said something like that just now.
The two of them exchanged a look.
Liam: A lot of things have happened ever since you joined, but you’re one of us, Kate. Liam: So whenever you’re in trouble, we want to help you. And if there’s something bothering you, you can talk to us anytime. Liam: Isn’t that right, Harry?
Harrison: Well, I guess we are getting used to having you around. Harrison: Like Liam said, even though they might not say it to your face, everyone’s been worried about you. Harrison: I believe it’s because you take your job as Fairytale Keeper seriously. Harrison: Everyone recognizes the hard work you’ve been doing.
Even amidst the music and cheers of the crowd, their words rang loud and clear. I was deeply touched.
(I didn’t even realize when they started acknowledging me.)
William: I extend to you an invitation to tonight’s banquet. Your name, dear guest? That night, I stumbled onto a secret I shouldn’t have known. Victor: From now on, you will be Crown’s “Fairytale Keeper”.
Because of the invitation that William extended on a whim, and because of Victor’s declaration, I couldn’t even sleep that first night out of fear and anxiety, and I worried constantly about whether I’d be killed or not. If I told the Kate from that night how much things would change in just three weeks, and how close I am with Crown now, she’d never believe me. This time it was tears of happiness that filled my vision, and I looked down.
(I’m actually kind of sad that my time with Crown is almost up.)
I was so happy to be acknowledged by Crown that I was now feeling sad that the time I had so dearly wished for at first was approaching.
Harrison: You know, if you wanted to give the old man a slap or two, I’m pretty sure everyone would help.
Kate: No! I don’t want that!
I snapped my head back up at Harrison’s words, only to see their grinning faces.
Harrison: Finally looked up.
Kate: Ah…
Liam: Cute girls shouldn’t keep their faces hidden!
Just like sunlight, their kindness warmed my heart.
Kate: Thank you, both of you.
As I expressed my gratitude, their smiles grew satisfied.
(I should tell Victor how grateful I am to him too. Properly, this time.)
I could picture Victor in his office, smiling warmly as always. He’d smile when thanked, and offer comforting words when I was feeling sad. I’d heard him thank me and apologize to me so many times.
(I absolutely cannot let things stay as they are.)
I put my fist to my chest and resolved to do something about it.
(I’ll find him, and I’ll tell him.)
For some reason, Liam and Harrison seemed surprised when they looked at me.
Kate: ? What’s wrong?
Harrison: Nothing…
They exchanged another glance, this one seemed relieved.
Liam: Nothing at all!
Liam sounded pleased as he shook his head and turned his attention back to the parade. It appeared as though the circus troupe was gathering in the main road, striking one final pose as a group. And then–
In broad daylight, the sound of an explosion ripped through London, loud enough to burst my eardrums.
Kate: What-
The explosion sent the crowd into a panic as everyone scrambled to flee.
Man’s voice: Run!
Woman’s voice: Out of the way, get out of the way!
Lost child’s voice: Papa! Mama! Where are you!
The crowd turned into a stampede of desperate fleeing people, turning the streets into an utter mess.
Caught in the middle of the chaos, I couldn’t move.
Kate: Ah… hah…
My breaths grew shallower and shallower. The panicking crowd seemed to move in slow motion.
Pastor’s Voice: Hurry, run! Crying child’s voice: Mama! Mama!
Kate: …No…
I was frozen in place. The sound of the explosion echoed over and over again in my head.
Kate: Agh!
Panicking Man: Out of the way, don’t just stand there!
I lost my balance as I was shoved aside by the man, and was swallowed by the swarm of people.
Liam: Kate!
I lost sight of Liam’s outstretched hand in the blink of an eye. Tossed around and shoved every which way, I was eventually thrown against a wall. As another explosion rang out, smoke began to rise in the distance. My body slumped against the wall.
Kate: Ah…
(I’m scared.)
The sound of the explosion stirred up the scars left in my memory and I found that I couldn’t breathe.
(Someone…) (Someone, please, anyone…!)
There was only one name that I managed to force out of my lips.
Kate: …Victor…
I squeezed my eyes shut out of fear. And then–
Victor: Kate!
Looking up, I saw Victor, frantically pushing through the crowd and sweat dripping down his forehead as he ran towards me.
Kate: !
He pulled me close to him and covered my ears. With my cheek pressed to his shirt, I could smell his night-like scent, and feel his warmth. My shivering subsided, just a little.
Victor: You’ll be okay. I’m here.
He moved his fingers just enough to let me hear what he said, and then he covered my ears again.
Kate: I- I’m… okay…
I was okay. I repeated it over and over again as I clung to him. When he noticed, he hugged me even tighter. I don’t know how much time passed like that. Gradually, I stopped hearing voices or other noises, and Victor pulled away just a little.
Victor: Deep breaths now. Slowly, take it slow.
Following Victor’s guidance, I sucked in a shaky breath. After several deep breaths, my breathing began to even out, and Victor put one arm under my knees.
Victor: Keep your eyes closed until I tell you it’s safe to open them, okay?
I nodded weakly, and closed my eyes. I felt myself being lifted into the air. Realizing that I was being carried by his strong arms, I looped my arms around his neck. I could no longer hear any explosions.
Premium Story: The “I Love You” Sealed Away With a Single Kiss
I was gently set down. When I slowly opened my eyes, I could see Victor kneeling in front of me.
Victor: You’re fine now. It’s okay.
He had propped me up against the back wall of the building, which faced out into an alley. I let go of his neck and wrapped my arms around myself.
Kate: …Thank you for saving me.
My fingers were still trembling as I held onto myself and thanked Victor. He let out a small breath. And gently, he covered my hands with his own. His hands were so warm. I could feel myself calming down as he held them.
Kate: Why were you here?
Victor: I was actually doing some reconnaissance with William.
Kate: Reconnaissance?
Victor: We were looking for the source of the explosions.
“Explosions.” A jolt ran through my body at that simple word. As I took deep breaths, I realized that Victor was rubbing gentle circles into the back of my hands as he continued.
Victor: It’s all speculation at the moment, but we suspect that this was premeditated by an organization.
(That’s…)
The sound of the explosions, the stampede of desperate people, all of it was like a scene out of hell itself.
Victor: I’ve asked the Yard to provide security while we investigated in the background. Victor: However, we weren’t able to obtain much information. Nothing more than rumors, anyway. Victor: To think that this would happen now…
He bit his lip, grief and helplessness evident in his expression, powerful enough to make me feel the same.
Victor: The perpetrators waited until the end of the parade where everyone would be gathered in one location before carrying out their crime. Victor: I will not let this pass.
(Was there anyone caught in the explosions…?)
I realized that the best thing to do right now would be to meet up with William and continue to investigate, However I couldn’t make my legs move.
Victor: It’s alright. William is on his way, so don’t worry.
After a while, I felt calm enough to speak.
Kate: …A few years ago, I was caught in similar explosions when I was at a church.
Victor shifted ever so slightly.
Kate: At that time I was so desperate to escape that I didn’t realize… Kate: Whenever I hear similar sounds, it reminds me of that day.
My laugh must have sounded pitiful.
Kate: But I’m okay now, thanks to you.
The expression on his face as he watched me was achingly sad.
Kate: I’m sorry for the awful things I said to you. I wanted to say thank you for rescuing me from that conversation with Darius.
I finally managed to tell him what I really wanted to say, but he remained silent.
Kate: I didn’t mean that I wish we had never met. Kate: I was just frustrated that I didn’t know so much, and when I finally found out, I didn’t know what to think or what to do. Kate: I was upset that you wouldn’t tell me, and I crossed a line. I’m sorry I hurt you. Kate: I’m really, really sorry.
(But…)
Kate: Meeting you has brought me more happiness than sorrow.
I overstep and hurt him, and get hurt in turn. But I truly didn’t believe that I’d be happier if we had never met in the first place.
Kate: Because I lo–
I was about to confess. And then– I felt something soft press against my lips, and my world was filled with him. He was kissing me.
Kate: Wha-
I didn’t expect his tongue to slip into my mouth. I tried to back away, but his hand against the back of my head prevented me from moving away.
Kate: Nnn…
His tongue slid against my teeth and then tangled with mine. He was kissing me so deeply that I thought I might pass out from lack of air. Everything felt so good that my mind was going blank. Just as I was on the brink of passing out, I felt his hand slip under the hem of my skirt, inching up my thigh.
Kate: Ah-
His finger rubbed against the crotch of my underwear. I was struck by a bolt of pleasure and could feel myself growing wet. My eyes flew open, and his jewel-like eyes were staring right at me. Desire flickered in his gaze as our kiss deepened. My heart squeezed when he narrowed his eyes.
(Does he also…?)
All my pain, all my anguish, I wanted to forget everything as I surrendered myself to this pleasure. I wished that time would stop, so this moment of mutual desire would last forever. Unable to form a coherent thought because of the kiss, I tried to press closer towards him. But his expression grew pained.
Kate: …ah…
And he broke away. I stared at his parted lips, but then his cold gaze pierced straight through me.
Victor: Is that enough?
Kate: What…
His voice was emotionless, sapping me of any lingering warmth.
Victor: There’s one more week until your promise is fulfilled. Victor: Forget everything, and return to your old life.
Kate: But I–
Victor: Kate.
This was a rejection. He was drawing another invisible line between us. “Not another step further.” I couldn’t look into his eyes any more, and bit my lip as I dropped my gazel.
Kate: …You don’t have to accept my feelings.
I’d thought the same ever since I learned of his past.
Kate: I just don’t want you to give up on your life as ‘Victor’. Kate: I know this is an unreasonable request. Kate: But I wish that you can live freely.
Even if we were to be parted, even if I were to be forgotten, Even if we were never to meet again.
Kate: I want you to be happy.
Because I love you. Because I had fallen hopelessly in love. He had so much to bear that adding this wish was an unreasonable burden. I knew that. But I just wanted him to be happy as a person, instead of as a symbol. I will always continue to wish for a future where he can smile with joy. …Even if that future didn’t include me.
Victor: I have already discarded that life. Victor: It has been gone for a long, long time.
Wordlessly, he stood and extended a hand to me. And just as silently, I took it and pulled myself to my feet. As he turned and started walking, I held back my tears and followed him. And although I knew the sensation of his hand in mine was familiar, I felt as though I had also felt something like this, a long, long time ago.
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JUST A LITTLE SOMETHINGGG
I know i've been saying imma write something....i did...but its for wattpad....thought I give you a little taste of it though...
Wattpad: AbbyDuck06
title: Lowkey - Nika muhl
first chapter : 2.3k words
enjoyyyyy!!!

The lights, the music, it was all too much. This was the reason I never liked parties. The annoying yelling, the oblivious girls with the stupid guys, the smell of alcohol, the obnoxious music; everything crawled under my skin to a point I was itching to get out.
But yet again, I was dragged here, forced, against my will. Nika, her extroverted self with my very introverted self were on two different perspectives of fun. Staying in, watching movies, maybe even going out to somewhere more chill would be cool, was more what I liked. Nika, her and her college parties drove me nuts. Her bar-hopping nights, her clubbing all nighters, her hungover mornings, it wasn't what I liked. But I followed any way.
"Please," her words slurred with the liquor running through her system, "just a dance. That's all I ask...then we can go back to the dorm."
Her arms slithered around my neck, pulling me closer. Looking up at her eyes, the ones heavy with intoxication, I sighed. "Fine. Only because I wanna get out of here."
"Yayyy!" She jumped, her arms freeing me and letting her hands clap together.
I rolled my eyes, but she was already running off. The dancing crowd taking her in like that's where she belonged. To the most part, she did. That's where she loved to spend her time. Drunk and dancing. That's besides the whole basketball and working out thing.
"Come on, Kay!" Her excited yells led a smile to my lips, shaking it off before making my way towards the sea of drunk people.
Pushing through to get to my best friend, her body swaying to the music. Not necessarily matching the song, but to whatever rhythm she had set her drunk heart to. I watched as I got closer, her smile widening as she sees me approaching. Her hands wave me towards her, my legs listening as if they had a mind of their own.
"Just one song," her arms snaked around my waist after turning me around. Our bodies up against each other, the atmosphere settling my nerves more than I anticipated. Her slow movements evident against me, I could feel my face heating up. "Loosen up, dance a little."
I nod, trying to focus at the task at hand; dance to one song, get out, go back to the dorm, forget how it felt to be so close to the girl. Which was hard, she was touchy. Physical touch is definitely her love language.
The dancing became easier as I let my mind roam, forgetting the taller girls presence. My body moving to the music (a lot better than Nika was), letting myself lose myself.
"See! So much fun!" She spun me around, snapping me out of whatever trance I was in, "one more song?"
I gave her a look, she sighed.
"Please! Kay! Please!" Her drunken state dropping her to ground, knees on the floor as her hands came together at her chest. "I'm begging you!"
"Nika!" I gritted through my teeth, "get your ass up!"
She shook her head, "no! Not 'til you say yes! Please!" She held out the end, whining through a smile.
The blush rising to my cheeks as I looked around, people's eyes wandering as they're mouth formed tight lines, holding back their laughs.
"Fine! One more than I'm outta here...got it?" She nods, jumping to her feet.
She pulls me into a hug, pressing our bodies together firmly, "thank you!"
And she went back to dancing, as if she hadn't just caused the most embarrassing scene.
I let it go, trying to get through one more song. Watching the brunette lose herself as I couldn't seem to shake off the feeling of embarrassment. She seemed so carefree, a complete opposite of her sober self. The tough exterior broken as the burn of liquor ran down her throat. Her major focus wavering as the lights and music became intoxicating.
She down a couple more shots half way through the song, making her movements even more unbalanced. Leaning against me, she plead for one more song after this one. Saying she wasn't able to actually dance.
"If you woulda stayed and danced, instead of drowning yourself in whatever liquor you keep downing, maybe you'd be okay with leaving," I held her up, her arm wrapped around my shoulders.
"But...please," I shook my head. She whined.
"Nika, no," the girl tried to break away from me. Her slowness making it easy for me to grab her wrist, "come on, let's go back to the dorm. We got hella snacks at home."
Her mind instantly flipped, liking the idea of going back to a safe space. Her head nodding and her body allowing me to guide her out of the crowded house. The fresh air hitting our faces, stinging from the cold, as we walked down the can and cup littered walkway. Nika groaning, holding her stomach.
"You okay?" I asked, stopping.
She nodded, I moved us forward. Making it to the car within a couple of minutes. I gently placed her in the passenger seat, buckling her in. Her hand resting on my cheek.
"Anyone ever tell you how beautiful you are?" I chuckle. Her inner thoughts spewing from her mouth as her intoxicated state broke any filter she had.
"Niks, you do all the time," removing her hand, a small smile on my lips as I close the door. Scurrying to the other side, jumping into the driver's seat. "Nika, where's your keys?"
She pointed to her purse, I collected the keys quickly. Nika's mind running lose, "you know why I think you're beautiful?"
I squinted my eyes, confused on what she could be talking about, "'cause we're best friends?"
She shakes her head, "noooo."
"Why then?"
"I love you," her lips curved into a sleepish smile, "like sooo much."
Every slurred word went in one of my ears and out the other. Drunk talk. It definitely wasn't sober thoughts.
"I love you too Nika, that's why we're best friends?" I laughed the words out some, the taller girl shaking her head playfully.
"Noooo not in the best friend way," she snickered, reclining back in her seat, "I love you love you."
"Ha, funny Nika. Let's get you home," the girl huffed, a sigh louder than her words had been.
"I'm not jokinggg," her hand reached across the console, her hand holding a loose grip on my forearm.
"You're drunk as fuck, you don't know what you're saying."
She stopped talking, probably anger than I wasn't playing along with her joke. She always said stupid shit like this when she was drunk. A week ago, she said she wanted to break up with her boyfriend. The next day they 'hung out' at our place for an hour, to which they had asked me to leave.
The rest of the ride was quiet, a small him from the engine the only real sound. The others being our breathing; mine calm and collected as Nika's was slow, as if she had fallen asleep.
To no surprise, she had. Her mouth slightly open as snores began to release. I made fun of her for it, even had a couple videos saved for future birthdays.
I pulled into the parking spot I had since the beginning of the year, cutting the engine off. Nika stirred awake, her eyes not fully open, still heavy with everything she drank and sleep.
"I'll get you out, okay?" She just nods.
I jump out of the car, running to the passenger side. Pulling the taller girl from the car, allowing her to use me for support. Her arm slithered around my shoulders, her head resting against mine. I guided us to the elevator, pushing the buttons needed to get to our room. The bare hallway dim as it was late in the night, nothing new for us. I pulled Nika's keys from my pocket, unlocking the door. Throwing them somewhere on a desk, I sat Nika down on her bed, her eyes watching me as I paced around the room.
"Here, change into these," throwing the PJ shorts and a large shirt, she just looks at them for a second. Her gaze meeting mine a second later.
"Can you help me?" Her words slurred, her eyes low; I couldn't tell her no.
"Sure," I lower myself, helping her take off her shoes, placing them to the side.
"Imma need your help with the rest, Niks," the girl nods, standing up slowly. I quickly remove her skirt, throwing her shorts on. I try to do the same with her shirt, but she stops me. "What?"
She just stares at me, her eyes dancing across my face as she meets my gaze again. Before I knew it, her lips crashed against mine.
The feeling was weird. It felt so right but yet so wrong. I didn't know what it was I was truly feeling, but I pushed Nika off of me.
"Nika, you're drunk, stop," she whined.
"I'm drunk, okay, but I know I want youuuu," she tried to lean in again, I slightly pushed her bare shoulder to stop her.
"No you don't. You have a whole ass boyfriend. You're straight as fuck. And even if you were gay, I'm not," she looked down, tears already welling in her eyes. "I'm...I'm sorry Nika. Please, let's just go to sleep, okay?"
She nods, allowing me to throw the shirt over her head, and lays down in her bed. Her sniffles killed me. The way she seemed so heart broken, but she couldn't have been. The liquor was making nonsense up and she was word vomiting it up.
I finally relaxed in my bed, staring up at the ceiling. Something was eating at my heart, my soul. But a loud thud had me back up, sitting up right. I slowly got up, making my way towards the sound.
Nika.
She'd gotten sick. Sounds that I couldn't listen to rung through the doorway. I approached it, cracking the door to see Nika on the ground by the toilet.
"Hey, you okay?" Without looking in my direction, she nodded. "Do you want me to stay in here with you?"
A quick no was all I got, then a door slamming in my face followed. I clicked my tounge in my teeth, just nodding to her reaction.
I didn't even wanna know why that was her reaction. The headache I had and the one I knew was brewing for her was not the best state to argue in. Not even pick at each other to get answers was a good idea.
I walked back to my bed, throwing myself on the mattress, and smothering myself in the comforter. The blackness of the room swallowed me whole as my eyes finally surrender to the tiredness I'd been feeling. The night I spent tossing and turning, no sleep, or at least that's what it felt like.
The sun shining through the blinds as I groaned awake. I got a couple of hours of the worse sleep I could have possibly gotten, but my mind went straight to Nika. The words she spoke last night, the way she reacted when I told her off, then the way she acted in the bathroom. It was weird, but she was drunk. That's all it was.
I pushed myself off the bed, my feet thudding softly against the floor as I made my way to the small kitchen.
Nika.
She stood there, hair up in a messy bun, her arms working hard as she stirred something in a bowl.
"Oh, hey!" Her pearly white teeth showed as her lips curved up in a smile. Her mood better than I would have expected.
"Hey," the grogginess of my voice forced a laugh from the brunette, her eyes looking over me.
"Tough night?"
"How am I looking worse than you are? I didn't even drink?" I shoved myself in a chair, crossing my arms in the table before letting my head fall into them.
Nika shrugged, "born this way I guess."
I groaned again.
"So," she stopped her movements, "I was wondering, if you'd go over to Paige's place for a little? Naheim is coming over in about an hour, and I assume you don't wanna be here."
There it was again. It never failed. The calling Naheim over the day after she gets drunk, says some stupid shit, and cries or acts confusing.
"Do I have to?"
She furrows her brow, "do you wanna stay?"
"I was kinda hoping to. I mean, a day of resting might be best for me," the knot in my stomach tightened as Nika got closer. Her hand against my forehead, her eyes widened.
"Fuck, you're warm," she reached for her phone, "I'll just tell Naheim another day. It feels like you got a fever or something."
"Thanks, Dr. Mühl," she laughs.
"I like the sound of that," she toss her phone on the table, "you want some medicine or anything?"
"Nah, I just wanna sleep," I went to move out of the chair, but something was just eating at me, "can I ask you something?"
"Hmm?"
"Last night, while you were literally out of your mind," a small chuckle fell from her, "you said somethings."
Her face contorted with worry, "what'd I say?"
"You said you loved me...in a more than friends way...."
Silence fell. Not even her breathing was heard, mine I was holding in, waiting for her answer.
"I was just drunk," she waved it off, laughing a little. "Nothing to worry about. I don't all the time."
Should I ask her about the kiss?
"What about-"
"You wanna stay in bed all day and watch movies?" She clapped her hands together, the sound puncturing my head.
"Wait-"
"Kay, really, whatever I said was just out of drunken delusion...trust me," her hand came to my shoulder, rising herself from the seat she had sat in while checking my forehead.
"Okay...if you say."
Something felt wrong about it, but choosing her word over the words of last night....that sounded better. Probably the best decision in the long run. ------------
go follow me on Wattpad!!! I write a lot more on there....
#wbb#nika muhl#wnba basketball#uconn wbb#wcbb#wnba#womens basketball#wnba players#wbb x reader#nika muhl x reader#Spotify
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Fighter and Mother Cato H. x OC
part I. part II. part lV.
After a sleepless night full of tossing and heavy dreams, I finally gave up trying to fall asleep. My eyes burned, my body was tired, and my heart felt like it was carrying the weight of the whole world. Every touch of the silk that the Capitol had forced me to wear felt like a reminder of everything that had been taken from me. I was lying in a bed — soft, fragrant — and yet I had never felt farther from home.
I slipped off the nightgown and reached for my old shirt. It was the one I wore at the Reaping — pieced together from scraps of fabric the children and I salvaged from homes where no one saw their worth anymore. The cloth was mismatched, in faded tones, but embroidered with bright threads. Suns, birds, leaves, and here and there a child’s attempt at a flower. I’d embroidered them in the evenings, when everyone else was asleep. Every stitch carried meaning. And now, as I pulled it on, I felt like myself again. Not because it was warm — but because it was mine. It belonged to my life, my children, my work. In the Capitol, it looked completely out of place — but I was done bending to their rules.
I walked into the lounge, where the servants had already laid out breakfast. The table was buckling under the weight of food — shiny pastries, glistening fruit, delicate dishes I couldn’t even name. The smell was intoxicating, but my stomach remained twisted in knots.
Still, I filled three plates. Not for the taste — but out of strategy. My grandmother used to say: “If there’s food, you eat. A strong body has a better chance of surviving.” I could almost hear her voice in my head — calm, amused: "With color on your cheeks and a song on your lips, everything goes a little easier.”
Turen appeared a little while later. He sat beside me, the traces of yesterday’s tears still lingering in his eyes, but he was quiet. He scooted closer, a bit awkwardly, and began to eat. I placed a hand gently on his back. That was enough. He was here. I was here.
Then Effie swept in, like something from another world. Bursting into the room with her peppy energy, she launched into a speech about the schedule, the preparations, and the importance of staying positive. Her voice was like silver-wrapped cotton candy, but inside me it just rang like a hollow drum.
Eventually, Haymitch shuffled in. Hair a mess, shirt wrinkled, reeking of wine and fatigue. He dropped into a seat across from me, poured himself a strong coffee, and stared at me for a moment.
“That…” he said, eyeing my brightly embroidered shirt, “is not Capitol standard.”
“It’s not,” I replied calmly. “It’s mine.”
Something shifted in his eyes then. Just for a second. As if he understood more than I expected. He gave a small nod and said nothing more.
“I’m sorry about yesterday,” I said quietly, no drama in my voice.
He watched me for a long beat, then finally muttered, “We all deal with it differently. Some drink. Some go quiet.”
We ate the rest of the breakfast in silence, until Effie suddenly straightened and pointed toward the windows.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” she declared, “I present to you… the Capitol!”
And that’s when I saw it for the first time.
The glittering city stretched all the way to the horizon. Towering buildings like crystal needles, colorful trains gliding on high rails, waterfalls of light, and sculpted gardens that had more lights than all of District Twelve put together.
Turen pressed against me, eyes wide with awe. “This isn’t real,” he whispered.
But I knew it was. And that’s exactly what made it so dangerous.
The train slowed, then stopped. The entire machine, so quiet and smooth during the journey, seemed to suddenly hold its breath. A chill ran through me as the metal wheels gave one last screech against the tracks. I looked over at Turen. He sat silently beside me, no longer crying, but his eyes still held that childlike helplessness — the look of someone torn away from the only home they've ever known.
“We’re here,” Haymitch muttered, groggily rising from his seat. Effie was already standing tall and rigid, a synthetic smile glued to her face.
“The Capitol! Our beloved viewers await!” she sang, gliding gracefully toward the door.
As we stepped off the train, light rained down on us. We stood on a platform that sparkled like it had been dusted with diamond powder. Screens blinked all around us, cameras, shiny objects I couldn’t even name. And people. Dozens — maybe hundreds — of Capitol citizens lining the path, cheering, waving, some with glasses in their hands, others holding banners, and a few… a few wore expressions of twisted delight.
“Ohhh, that boy is adorable!” called a woman with pink feathers instead of hair. “I know that girl! That’s the one from Twelve — the embroidery one, right?” someone else shouted. “Give us a smile, sweetheart!”
A shiver went through me. Not just from the shouts, but from how little we seemed like real people to them. We were props in some kind of show. Dolls soon to be thrown into the arena.
I smiled — or tried to — but the smile froze on my face.
Haymitch turned to us. “This is where you end. From here on out, you're products. Goods. Let them do their job. Don’t make a scene — the stylists know what they're doing.”
We were led into the styling center — a towering, windowless marble building, with endless corridors and doors, every surface gleaming. They split us up. Turen went one way, I went another. Soon, I found myself in a room that smelled of perfume and wax.
At first, I only caught flashes — shimmering lights, rustling fabrics, the clinking of bracelets, and clouds of sharp scent. Then they appeared.
Alistar a man with skin dyed turquoise, his eyes framed with black sequins, his lips coated in a glittering iridescent gloss. He wore a sheer silver mesh dress — if you could call it that. “Ohhh! Heavens above, this is her! The Twelve girl, in the flesh! And that SHIRT!” he shrieked theatrically. “Is that handmade? It must be! Those stitches!”
Next to him floated Valeria her hair a massive neon flower, her eyebrows shaped into spirals, her dress shifting color with every move. “So beautiful, and yet so... natural. But don’t worry, darling. We’ll fix that. We’ll let your beauty shine!”
And finally, Remus silent, with a shaved head and eyes that changed color like photo-reactive lenses. He wore a latex coat, and his long, slender fingers were adorned with silver rings topped with crystals. “Your face has... gravity,” he murmured. “Not much to fix. We’ll just lift you into Capitol light.”
Without further hesitation, they handed me a silk robe. “Off you go, sweetheart. We’ll be gentle,” Valeria winked.
I had no choice but to obey.
I stood there — naked, tense — while they buzzed around me like small, glittering birds. They stripped away my hair, clipped my nails, rubbed scented oils into my skin, washed my hair in warm, fragrant water, buffed my heels, applied creams. Everything was soft, precise — but impersonal. I was no longer a person. I was a body being prepped for display.
Valeria worked through my hair while Alistair examined the shirt I’d folded so carefully. “The embroidery — it’s like a diary. Look here — the sun. And this one... is that a poppy? Poppy? Is that a name?”
I nodded silently.
Back home, people overlooked the embroidery. Here, in the Capitol, it wasn’t survival — it was fashion. And if it was beautiful, it had value.
My head was buzzing. Somewhere behind the walls, Turen was being readied too — decorated, reshaped, just like me.
Two figures from a different world, dressed up and tossed into a trap.
And as their hands moved, the scents swirled, and the lights blinded me, I thought of home.
Of children’s hands. Their voices. The rustle of grass at the fence. The herbs in the old tin bowl.
And I held onto it — all of it.
So I wouldn’t disappear in all this shine.
When the prep team finally withdrew, taking their last cotton swabs, brushes, and tissues with them, I remained seated in front of the mirror, surrounded by soft lighting and the lingering Capitol scent that still didn’t sit right with me. My hair had been braided into a loose plait that draped over my shoulder, ending at my waist like a silk rope with delicate pearls woven into the strands. The skin on my hands and face was smooth, my nails neatly done with a subtle shimmer I’d never been able to afford before. But still, I felt like myself — just a washed and polished version of Zinnia from District Twelve.
When they carefully helped me to my feet, Valeria clapped her hands and turned toward the door. “And now, to your stylist. I believe he’s going to fall in love with you.”
They led me down a narrow hallway laid with glossy tiles until we reached a door that opened on its own, as if welcoming me in. Inside was a tall, airy studio, scented with glue, fabric, and something that reminded me of oranges. A man stood at a table — slim, with pale skin and jet-black hair cropped close to his head. He wore a long coat made of heavy fabric with a high collar, and every movement he made was slow, gentle, as if he lived at a different tempo.
“Zinnia, right?” he said softly. His voice had a strange kind of melody to it, like he was composing sentences to a rhythm only he could hear. “I’m Corvel.”
I nodded and said quietly, “Nice to meet you.”
He studied me for a moment. “Interesting,” he said. “We’re used to inventing stories for our tributes. But you already have one. I just have to translate it into fabric.”
Then he walked over to the wall and pulled down a design that had been covered by a fine cloth. He turned it toward me, and for the first time, I saw what he had created for me.
It wasn’t kitsch. It wasn’t a parody of fire or coal. It was an image of survival.
“Everyone would dress you in flames and soot,” he said, “but I want them to see what grows from the ashes.”
He pointed to a pair of dark, slim silk trousers that shimmered like soot under the light. They had an ornate waistband stitched with tiny cross-stitches — a tribute to embroidery. The top was light, made from silvery-gray fabric, delicately embroidered with black, red, and gold thread, with patterns that resembled charred wood and sprouts growing from scorched earth.
“This pattern is your fingerprint,” he explained. “I created it based of your shirt.”
Floating over it all was a cloak of sheer organza, falling to the ankles, threaded with tiny metallic strands that sparkled like drifting ash. It was light as breath.
“So,” he asked, “are you ready to become a story?”
“If you’re the one writing it,” I said — and for the first time all day, I smiled from the heart.
Once Corvel summoned his team, everything moved very quickly. Remus, Alistar, and Valeria began dressing me without unnecessary words. Every swipe of fabric over my skin was careful yet firm. They pulled the shirt over my head, slipped the vest on, and fastened the cloak with the precision of people born to adorn others. I could only feel the light touches, the rustling of fabric, and their quiet whispers. Before I knew it, I was ready.
Corvel measured me once more, from head to toe, slightly adjusting the cloak on my shoulders before he smiled — that soft, satisfied smile of an artist proud of their work. "Ready," he said quietly, nodding toward the door.
I was then led away from the prep room, down the long, glossy hallways, and outside, where richly decorated carriages were waiting, each drawn by two beautiful dark horses. Under the glow of Capitol lamps and spotlights, everything sparkled and shone, almost unnaturally.
Turen was already waiting for me, nervously shifting by our carriage, and when he saw me, he smiled in relief. He was also dressed in a simple yet beautiful outfit that matched mine. He quickly jogged up to me and quietly mumbled, “You look amazing.” I smiled at him, squeezed his hand, and that’s when I felt someone’s gaze on me.
Through the crowd of other tributes, I caught his eyes — steel-blue and cold. Cato from District Two. He was casually leaning against the side of his carriage, arms crossed over his chest, wearing an expression that was a mix of interest and predatory curiosity. He was openly studying me, as if appraising me before we even stepped into the arena.
His gaze ran over my costume, my hair, my posture — and in his eyes, there was no pity, but a kind of curiosity. I held his gaze for a moment, then lowered my eyes back to Turen. I realized that my fingers were trembling slightly beneath the costume.
“Don’t worry,” I whispered to Turen, more to calm myself. “We can handle this.”
Above our heads, the Capitol drums were beginning to thrum, signaling that the ceremony was about to start.
The carriage was majestic — black with dark glossy sides, without a driver, only two muscular, coal-black beasts adorned with golden harnesses, waiting silently, almost indifferently, as if they knew this was a ride for applause, not escape. Slowly, Turen and I climbed aboard, his small hand clutching tightly at my elbow. The rest of the tributes were already seated, arranged by district. We, as always, were last. District Twelve. The end of the line. The shadow of the system.
As soon as our feet touched the floor of the carriage, the horses moved without a single command. Automatically. Like puppets on strings, led by the Capitol’s invisible will. We marched forward into the glare of spotlights, the roar of the crowds, and the blinding shine of glory.
The road was narrow, lined with thousands of Capitol citizens waving, shouting, laughing. The lower levels of the buildings were packed with spectators in vibrant costumes, hair dyed in rainbow hues, faces painted like festival masks. People reached out toward us—some tossed flowers, others confetti. Light and perfume filled the air.
“Look how her shirt sparkles!” “She’s the one with the kids, the girl from Twelve!” “Does she make her own clothes? So talented! And that look on her face!” “That child with her… this is going to be the real tragedy.”
Turen pressed close to me. His eyes were wide open, but his lips were tight. He wore the kind of face children wear when they’re trying to be brave — clenched and fragile. I placed a hand on his shoulder, gave it a gentle squeeze, and then forced myself to smile. Not even for the audience. For him.
As the final carriage arrived at the end of Victory Lane, the lights intensified, and everything fell into a hushed, expectant whisper. President Snow stepped onto the balcony above the square. His pace was slow, but not from hesitation — from precision. His presence sent a chill down the spine.
He stood at the microphone, folded his hands behind his back, and cast a brief glance over all the tributes. His gaze was like a cold breath of winter against the neck, even though the square burned with torchlight.
“Citizens of the Capitol… people of Panem,” he began, his voice calm, yet it carried far. “Today, as every year, we gather to honor the memory of those who paid the price for peace. Those who gave everything for unity and balance among us. Today we welcome the new tributes — a girl and a boy from each district — and we wish them honorable games. May the odds be ever in their favor.”
At his words, golden flames erupted above the square, illuminating all the carriages as the crowd broke into deafening applause.
The procession resumed — this time heading back — and Turen and I sat still, almost stiff, until the carriage finally returned us to the underground section of the Tribute Center.
As we stepped down, our team was waiting, ready to greet us like heroes. Effie clapped her hands in delight and exclaimed, “That was absolutely, absolutely enchanting! You shone! Corvel, you genius!”
Haymitch, who for once was actually standing upright, welcomed us with a mock-pat on the shoulder. “Didn’t look like arena meat, congrats,” he said with a smirk that came dangerously close to a real smile.
Valeria from my prep team looked like she might cry. “You looked like… like someone out of legend. That embroidered shirt beneath the cloak, it was just so… authentic!”
Turen stood silently beside me, red-faced but with a sparkle in his eyes. It was his moment — and he had survived it.
Then Haymitch noticed someone lagging behind. He turned his head and frowned. “Well, isn’t that sweet… looks like someone’s watching you.”
I followed his gaze — and there he was. Cato stood on the far side of the hall, surrounded by his team, but saying nothing. His eyes were fixed directly on me. No blink. No smile. Just a stare like a black hole’s gravity — it won’t let you leave, and somehow, you don’t want to.
Effie quickly intervened, ever the social diplomat: “All right! That’s enough staring — time for rest! Your suites are waiting. We’ve prepared everything you might desire.”
She led us to the elevators, which carried us high into the upper floors of the Tribute Center. The whole ride up, I could still feel Cato’s gaze lingering on my back — heavy as stone, hot as a warning, unreadable as a dream I wasn’t ready to wake from.
I hope you liked it. Part IV.???
If you have any tips or request i am happy to help =)
erika-simps
nowayhomenever
kittykataerokitty
@zelabee
@sopitasopita
#thg#hunger games x reader#hunger games#the hunger games#the hunger games x reader#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#sunrise on the reaping#katniss everdeen#katniss everdeen x reader#peeta mellark#haymitch abernathy#district 12#capitol#rue#thresh#clove kentwell#marvel#glimmer belcourt#president snow#tbosas#tbosas x reader#cato#cato hadley#cato x clove#cato hunger games#cato x reader#cato x oc#cato hadley x reader#cato hadley x oc#thg sotr
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Okay so uhm can you pretty please please make a fanfiction about Espresso cookie and temperance reader like reader wants to saved their beloved normal cookie so they find a way they sacrificed themselves to Mystic flour in exchange for everyone to be back on their cookie and not become a flour we sacrificed ourselves and got corrupted instead of course we said our final goodbye to our beloved Espresso
goodness how much times have you gave me ideas for fics, I've just been feeding off your requests tbh HELPP
SACRIFICE
Anngsysty

You watched as he dissolved before your eyes, fading into nothingness, turning back into the flour from which he was born. Your love, your everything, crumbled before you, disintegrating in the cruel, unfeeling wind.
Espresso’s voice echoed faintly, his final words dripping with bitterness: “Apathy”... “A perfect world.” You caught the fleeting glance he spared you, a mixture of sorrow and resignation, before he vanished entirely.
And it was her. All of this—every ounce of your anguish—was because of her. Mystic Flour Cookie. Once a comrade, but no longer. She was a beast, a creature like everyone else. Yet you knew she wouldn’t let go of her grand apathy plans so easily.
You had no choice. No other path lay before you. You had to give yourself to her.
The Ivory Pagoda loomed ahead, an imposing structure bathed in a cold, lifeless light. It had taken an eternity to reach this place, but here it was, your end. The gates swung open at your approach. Cloud Haetea, guardian of this wretched place, didn’t so much as lift a finger to stop you. Perhaps it was your expression—a gaze so menacing, so filled with rage—that held them back.
You burst through the grand doors, their ancient wood groaning under your force. Mystic Flour sat at the center, her silhouette bathed in the ethereal glow of the pagoda’s light. She was meditating, but her eyes opened as you entered. Calm yet piercing, her gaze met yours.
“...Temperance?” she murmured, her voice betraying her surprise.
When you traveled with Dark Cacao, she had suspected something about you, but here, in this place where foresight ruled supreme, she hadn’t foreseen this—a raw, unguarded confrontation.
“Stop your plans at once, Mystic Flour,” you demanded, your voice trembling with defiance.
Her expression darkened. Her eyes, once pools of serene wisdom, turned black as night, unrelenting in their scrutiny of you.
“This... This is unusual for you,” she mused, her tone soft but layered with menace. “Why are you interfering with my plans, Temperance?”
Her voice was alluring, yet it chilled you to your core.
"Your plans are too hostile, mystic flour—
“Hostile?” she replied, your words cutting through the still air. “I would say... the opposite.”
“This conversation has ended—”
“WAIT!”
Your cry rang out, desperate and unyielding. The silence that followed was deafening. Mystic Flour rose, her movements graceful yet deliberate. She approached you, her gaze intent, unreadable.
“...I have an offer,” you whispered, the weight of your words crushing you.
Her brows arched slightly, curiosity flickering across her face. “And what, pray tell, do you have to offer me?”
You swallowed hard, your voice breaking as you spoke. “I offer you everything. My devotion, my soul—everything I am. Just... stop your plans. Return the world to what it was. Please.” Tears streaked your face as you fell to your knees. You knew you’d never see Espresso again. But if sacrificing yourself meant he could live, you would do it without hesitation.
For a moment, there was only silence. Then, Mystic Flour spoke, her tone cold but resolute.
“...Very well. But do not mourn when I turn you into a beast such as myself.”
With a single, sweeping motion of her hand, life began to bloom once more. The world stirred from its apathy, the souls she had consumed were restored, and hope began to creep back into the corners of existence.
The gates of the Ivory Pagoda slammed shut behind you, sealing you away for eternity. No one would ever see you again.
Espresso Cookie’s POV:
“W-what?! Where am I?” I stumbled to my feet, disoriented. The last thing I remembered was a haze—a comforting, endless white. And then... them. My love. They were staring at me, horrified.
But now... they were gone.
Frantically, I ran through the house, checking every room, every corner, every shadow. No sign of them. Not a trace. Not even their scent lingered.
“Where are you?” I whispered, my voice cracking.
I stumbled into our shared bedroom, my heart pounding as I searched. And there, lying on the bed, was their veil—the one they wore so often, shielding their face from the world. Sometimes, if I was lucky, they would remove it, letting me see the softness beneath.
I clutched the veil to my chest as tears streamed down my face. Hours passed, each more agonizing than the last. I searched everywhere, called out their name until my voice was hoarse. And yet... nothing. They were gone.
I put up posters, plastering the town with their image. I begged anyone I came across. Days turned to weeks, and hope began to slip through my fingers like grains of sand.
Late one night, I sat in the darkness of our empty home, the veil still clutched in my trembling hands.
“They’ll come back,” I murmured, my voice trembling. “They’ll come back. They have to come back.”
But as the silence stretched on, the weight of their absence pressed down on me, suffocating.
“They’ll come back… right?”
The words hung in the air, fragile as glass, before shattering into sobs.

#crk x reader#cookie run#cookie run kingdom#crk#gn reader#x gn reader#x reader#shadow milk cookie#gender neutral reader#shadow milk crk#mystic flour x reader#mystic flour cookie#mystic flour crk#crob x reader#beast cookies#crob#light angst#angst#heavy angst#fiction#killaswork
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*dragging myself through the pit of exhaustion* Must...post.....mad scientist au...... - all seriousness though, I didn't POST yesterday?!!??! WHY?!?!? Because...BECAUSE!!!....I have no excuse😔😔 I'm just a little they/them who gets overwhelmed by all of the ideas in their head. Like, I was going to write a post yesterday but I was like "where do I even begin?" and screamed n such. Anyway. SHUT UP, FOUR. Okay okay so, Wei Ying is in the Burial Mounds, and he feels as though he has to earn the right to leave. He has so much blood on his hands, he has caused so much harm even if it was unknowingly, he has done so much wrong and will never be able to make up for it. He deserves everything that he is going through, and would let himself rot away in the Burial Mounds if it weren't for the fact that he knows from the whispers of the spirits, of the trees, that there is a war. He may be a monster, an abomination of the blood and guts and resentful energy that paved his path into Hell, but he is still useful. He is smart. He created the beginnings of an entirely new cultivation path at eleven years old, why can't he do it again at seventeen? He's got the knowledge, he has some of his notes, and he's got more than enough materials at his disposal. So, his experimenting begins.
Instead of taking a guilty but "this is the way" approach to resentful energy and the death it causes, Wei Ying seeks to change it. He seeks to have the chance to help every spirit that helps him, in a way that he could not achieve with living humans - mainly because they didn't survive long enough for him to help them. With spirits, he can simultaneously help them let out those wild, confusing feelings, while they help him get revenge on his enemies and be useful. He can learn about the individual spirit no matter what little that is, and give them a way out. Lay them to a peaceful rest after they have assisted him. It still feels exploitative to him, but then the Burial Mounds begins to whisper about how the spirits view him - he is their God, sent from the heavens to help the spirits forgotten by the rest of the world. Spirits that are too far gone to be nothing but overwhelming emotions rush to him and are given the sweet release that death was supposed to provide them.
Wei Ying also refines his skills with the dizi, forcing himself to work through the pain of moving his fingers, a pain that is getting worse with every day he is in the Burial Mounds. He learns how to use his melodies to influence spirits to do anything he wants, calming them out of a screaming rampage through the grounds and sometimes working them into (experimentation comes first, even if he gets attacked in the process). The Burial Mounds is doing Its own creepy version of cheering on Its son, feeling simultaneously proud and in awe of what he is doing right in front of It. How has this boy, this little baby teenager, fallen from the skies and almost died in Its lands, only to force his way back into life with Its help and then immediately begins offering a form of salvation to all of the forgotten, uncared for spirits in the Jianghu.
Now, the crows. "What is their role in this AU?" Well, at first, they're just chilling around, watching Wei Ying stumble around desperately every day, scrabbling for...indescript food in order to survive (yes, it is corpses. Bone marrow, usually. It's not like there's any other food sources aside from the crows, n he can't catch them in his state). They watch as he digs around in these corpses for the bones and then delightedly pick at whatever is left over when the human stumbles off again. Listen, if you've been around for a while, you know that I've learned my fair share about crows....so I know that crows are quite intelligent! They have the minds of toddlers, n they can recognise people - AND hold grudges. That doesn't really add anything to the plot but I just thought it was cool. Anyway, Wei Ying starts offering the food as he's eating it, and they all start eating together so it's pretty chill!
The crows have to return the favour of the chill eating sessions and start bringing Wei Ying cool shit that they find outside of the Burial Mounds, often shiny shit but occasionally there's shit from cultivators and Wei Ying is sometimes whipping similar stuff out, so they bring that as well. The crows like Wei Ying, Wei Ying likes the crows. Simples! Of course, it doesn't take long for the teenager to realise that the crows are brimming with yin energy, and are drawn to his melodies just as much as resentful spirits are, and he does take advantage of this, giving them more food in return for their efforts. As Wei Ying grows more powerful, he feels like it would be necessary to reach out to the outside world, so he starts experimenting with (dead) crows to basically use them as flying cameras to see what's going on outside.
It is Not Good. There most certainly IS a war, and Wen Ruohan's forces far outweigh that of the three major sects & co. "Three?" I hear you saying - YEP. In THIS AU, the Jin side with the Wen. "WHY??" Because Jin Guangshan knows that the Wen have notes of demonic cultivation from the literal genius creator of it, and he (mistakenly) believes that the Wen can and will use them in the war. It's a no brainer for him; they will fall if they do not side with the Wen. Also he sucks and I HATE him and he's power hungry, so he's hoping that he gets information about demonic cultivation if he shows support for the Wen. Don't worry, don't worry, Jin Zixuan and his small band of loyalists (Mianmian I love you, Mianmian I would die for you) are still on the good side, Lotus Pier has taken them in (because they haven't been burned down to the ground this time around)!! The Wens' forces and control, plus the Jins' money and control, equals UH OH. FUCK.
Wei Ying also can't get any read on his precious family - he thinks they're in Qishan, because there's no information implying that they are literally down in the city nearby. He's fucking terrified, but also doesn't want to get them into anymore danger by trying to attempt contact from them if they are alive. He needs to figure out if they're alive. He needs to know whether or not they are safe. How? There was a teenager who did always seem to know everything going on in the Jianghu. Wei Ying just needs to get into contact with him. He puppeteers a crow to nab some paper from a nearby city (just missing a Xue Yang storming down the street after another failure at decoding Wei Ying's notes), and then realises that his hands are far too fucked up to write. The Burial Mounds tries to help, but Its hands (even more exaggeratedly wonky and fucked up than Wei Ying's) are not helpful. THIS is where the crows get their true calling.
They're already brimming with yin energy, and that's only heightened through their time in the Burial Mounds, so it can be reasonably implied that they are smarter than a toddler depending on how much resentful energy they are exposed to and how long they have been in the Burial Mounds. They see Wei Ying desperately using his fingers dipped in blood (nobody's really selling ink and calligraphy brushes in these wartimes so they can't be nabbed, okay??) to try and write something, and they (sort of) learn as he writes. So, while he's passed out after so long of not sleeping, they take matters into their own wings and start scratching out the message with the blood and their claws (so much neater than what Wei Ying was dropping). Then they send a crow out with that message out to the first war camp they find, listening out for the name of the person they're searching for, and basically bombard this guy with both the message and their presence.
Meanwhile, Nie Huaisang gets attacked by a crow while he's supposed to be taking his mind off worrying over his da-ge out on the battlefield with a walk. He's at first confused and offended and rather scared (did he insult the crows somehow??) but then he realises that there's some sort of scroll clutched in the crow's grasp. He opens it, fully expecting it to be some sort of death threat rambling slur filled letter (okay so maybe not that but who knows what's going through his mind??) and finds a simple message. "My sect was filled with monsters, but I had a family. Ensure their safety, and I will ensure your victory."
It seems as though Wei Wuxian is not dead.
#mad scientist wei wuxian au#I WAS SO CLOSE TO GETTING IT OUT ON TIME#FUCK#AGUH#UHGOIGRHGO#I'm counting it#I wasn't late shut up#anyway#I don't know how I feel about this post#actually I do love it#shut up#I get to do what I want#whateva#I want#Wei Wuxian has cool crow sidekicks who basically see this girlfailure and go “oh honey...honey nooo”#he's a cannibal and yes this will affect him#the Jin are basically evil#sorry#still trying to figure out how Madam Yu dies because she just can't stay alive#she'll see Wei Wuxian and say something bitchy#and he'll fucking snap#he ripped someone apart with his bare hands okay#annnyyway#grandmaster of demonic cultivation#mo dao zu shi#mxtx mdzs#mdzs au#mdzs#wei wuxian#wei ying
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