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alice-angel12x · 2 months ago

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The Blue Knight pt.3

The complicated heart arch.

<- Part 2/ Part 4 -> this way

It was a challenge as we continued our journey through beast yeast. Each step of the way, we would find another shard of the light of freedom. Each time I would see this Silent salt figure and the green hooded figure, Bliss Butter.

But we continued to press on, till we came across a real Fairy Cookie! According to Pure Vanilla, White Lily Cookie had met this fairy. They saw it in the vision from the light of freedom.

I wish I weren't so out of the loop and receiving completely different visions. Nonetheless, the fairy Silver Bell Cookie led us to the Fairy kingdom to see White Lily Cookie.

-------------------------------------

Y/n and the others stood in awe at the beautiful kingdom made of plants and silver. The fairies sing a song to white lily cookie in the hope of her return. She is a hero, a savior of sorts to these cookies.

Y/n's heart tightens slightly, not helping with their slight sting of inferiority. Eventually, Silver Bell led them to a glass case, inside was the hero herself.

'Wow, she is really pretty,' Y/n thought to themselves. ' No wonder Pure Vanilla's heart still flutters for her.'

Y/n watched as Pure vanilla stood over her case, eyes full of longing. But just as Pure Vanilla explained the light of freedom, a new fairy arrived.

"Silver Bell! I hear you let outsiders into our kingdom," The gray and silver fair said.

"Ah! Mercy Knight Cookie! These cookies are friends of White Lily Cookie," Silver Bell explained.

"Well, his majesty has ordered that these outsiders be brought before him.

"The king wishes to see us?" Gingerbrave asked in awe.

"Elder fairy... He should have many answers about white lily Cookie's past, and this great calamity," Pure Vanilla thought aloud.

"Then let's not keep his majesty waiting," Y/n nods.

--------------------------------------------

The group stood before the king, a moderately tall Cookie with a slim build, somewhat elderly periwinkle eyes and pointed eyebrows, and dark magenta dough. His pale lavender blue hair is styled into triangle bangs.

"So it is you. Those who claim to be white Lily cookies' ally," He says slowly. "Well, all but one of you."

He looks at Y/n Knight Cookie.

"I never met her, so I can't say I am. But Pure vanilla sees her as an ally, so I will too," Y/n Spoke, giving a nod to Pure vanilla who smiles back.

"I see cookies who bear the fate of the Dessert world on their shoulders before me," Elder Faeie Cookie says.

"A cookie who controls his own fate with his bravery," The king looks to Gingerbrave.

He shifts his gaze to Strawberry and Wizard Cookie. " A warm-hearted cookie who always puts her friends first. And a Cookie of short stature."

Wizard Cookie was a bit annoyed that his height was mentioned.

"And an ancient hero, a cookie of light who protects the balance of this world," He says as he walks past Y/n to Pure Vanilla.

"Your majesty, allow me to introduce us. This is Y/n Knight, Gingerbrave, strawberry Cookie, and wizard Cookie. And I am Pure Vanilla Cookie. We come from the land of Crispa. We have come to-"

"Find Dark Entrantress Cookie," the Elder faerie said.

"How did he know?!" Gingerbraves asked in awe.

"Since ancient times. I have protected this silver tree at the order of the witches." The King started to explain.

As he spoke Y/n's eyes wandered to the tree. A large tree with branches that twisted into the shape of the soul games. A large vine wraps around the trunk, keeping whatever is inside locked away.

As the fairies sang around the tree, visions flashed across Y/n's eyes. The tree on fire, the tree destroyed, the tree restored, a figure standing before the tree. They wore a green hood and a star-shaped candy jewel.

"The power of Virtue, purified by the witches themselves... The Soul Jam that you harness," Elder Faire's voice rings in Y/n's ear. "You are not the first to wield that power."

The faerie King began to tell the story of the legendary virtues, how they were to bring cookies into their golden age. But over time, they fell into darkness. As Y/n listened to the story, they couldn't help but feel like something was being left out.

"Excuse me, Your Majesty. I have a question," Y/n raised their hand.

"Yes?" The king asked patiently.

"Was there a beast who went by Bliss Butter Cookie? I think she had a star-shaped Candy Jewelry," Y/n asked slowly.

Everyone was silent. Pure vanilla and Co. were simply confused by the question. The fairies looked at her with bewilderment, but Elder Fairy tensed slightly. He walks closer to Y/n Cookie to whisper something.

"Hold onto that question," He says quietly.

He turns quickly and explains how to awaken White Lily Cookie. Just as Pure Vanilla Cokkie and the rest were about to leave, he noticed Y/n staying behind.

"Ah, Lov-.. Y/n, aren't you coming?" Pure Vanilla asked, concern in his voice,

"I need to speak with them, you go and collect the rest of the light of Freedom," Elder Faerie Cookie explained.

"I'll be fine, you go ahead," Y/n smiles slightly.

"Alright. We'll meet you back here, okay," Pure Vanilla replies.

Y/n nodes and quickly follows the fairy king.

--------------------------

The two walked silently through the kingdom's garden, and the silence was intense.

"So is there more to that story than you let on?" Y/n cookie asked.

"Indeed, for this beast stands apart from her peers. When the great witch created her, bliss butter was meant to be a guiding star. Guiding the cookies and her fellow virtues to the brightest possible future," The king explained.

"But when her peers fell to darkness, despair consumed her."

"So what happened? She doesn't seem to be sealed away with the others," Y/n pointed out.

"That's because Bliss Butter was Clever, and the power her soul jam granted her only more unpredictable," The king said darkly.

"What power?" Y/n asked.

"Bliss Butter's Light of Hope granted her the power to foresee every possibility. Meaning she could guide cookies to either fate or their doom. She saw where the beast's path led, so she pretended to aid the witch. From there, I am unsure why she vanishes. For all we know, this is all according to her plan," the Elder fairy said.

"So why keep this quiet? Why didn't you tell the others?" Y/n asked.

"Because after she vanished, the Blue Lily Dragon became the holder of her Soul jam. And she saw that the next holder would come asking about Bliss Butter," Elder Faeire Cookie pauses and looks to Y/n Sorrowfully. "And when that happens, Blue Lily Dragon would have long since perished. Leaving you with a heavy burden that I wouldn't even wish on my enemies."

__________________________________________________

DUN DUN DAAA!! till next chapter.

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almostwisegalaxy · 17 days ago

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You Stay, Therefore You Love Me

DARK Yeon Sieun x fem!reader

Not to be romanticized. To flee.Besides, take some note of it. This is how many of you foolishly manipulate. ಠ⁠,⁠_⁠｣⁠ಠ

..................................................................................

Yeon Si-eun knew from day one that she was there.

He didn't need a name. She was just a blurry outline in the periphery of his thoughts, a face glimpsed through the trembling reflection of a school bus, an indistinct voice in a memory Su-ho never knew how to tell, except with a laugh. "Y/N? She's nice. A good friend of mine" Nothing more. She was barely a note in too dense a score.

And yet, when the coma fell like a lid on Su-ho—thick silence, tubes, lights too white—Si-eun found that laugh again. He turned it over and over. And deep within that laugh, there was a crack. A confession.

She was there that day. She could have intervened. But she was afraid.

That's how obsession is born: not from hatred, not even from grief. But from an inexplicable absence, an anomaly in the equation.

Y/N.

Eunjang High School was a closed world, an open-air lock-up, filled with boys fighting to exist. Si-eun no longer spoke there. He didn't need to exist here other than as a silhouette. His reputation floated alone, detached from his body. They said he'd broken throats with ballpoint pens. That his gaze could freeze your marrow. That Su-ho had fallen protecting him. All true. And insufficient.

He spent his days locked in the study hall, his face bowed over textbooks he already knew by heart. He needed distance, not to calm down, but to plan.

And it was in that silence that he found her. Not Y/N herself—she was never at Eunjang—but her trajectory.

He traced it like a physics problem: coordinates of her school, probable travel times, days off, dead hours. She was at an all-girls school thirty-seven minutes away by train, Line 2 then 7. She walked alone, always on the left side of the street, with a blue bag she held like a shield.

The first time he followed her, he felt nothing.

The second time, he heard her laugh. He noted it in his memory.

The third time, she turned, as if she'd sensed him.

And he smiled.

Si-eun was a monster, but a patient monster. He knew that direct attention, too soon, would make her flee. So he crossed paths with her, accidentally. Twice. Three times. One day, he helped her pick up papers that had fallen from her bag, with that empty smile that didn't reach his eyes.

She thanked him. He didn't ask her name.

A week later, he was there again, at the same street corner, at the same time.

"Chance again?" she murmured.

"Or an identical routine." He replied, tucking an invisible strand of hair behind her ear, without touching her.

She knew nothing about him. And that was perfect.

Si-eun was no longer the boy who analyzed equations to escape pain. He had become one who read gestures, silences, averted glances. He studied Y/N with the precision of a biologist facing a cell he wanted to contaminate.

He wanted her to get attached to him. But not quickly. Not brutally.

No, he wanted her to choose him. Willingly. Blindly.

And for that, he offered her cracks.

Not his own, no. Invented cracks, placed like shards of glass on the ground. Doubts, half-smiles, silences held longer than necessary. He spoke little. Just enough for her to think she saw something deep within.

"You're always alone."

He replied, "That's not true. I'm often with you, now."

She smiled. She sometimes blushed, but didn't flee. It wasn't a gentle shyness; it was a feverish restraint, as if she knew something was wrong but couldn't prove what.

That was the sensation he wanted from her. A confused alert.

He noted everything. Every reaction. Every tremor. When he crossed his arms while talking, she did the same within seconds. He had read these methods in applied psychology manuals. He had tested their limits on Eunjang students. It worked.

Y/N was becoming receptive. Slowly. But clearly.

And with each progression, he returned home in the evening and looked at himself in the mirror.

He felt nothing.

No joy. No triumph.

Only a continuous tension, like a string about to snap. Because she smiled, sometimes, just like Su-ho had smiled. And that made him sick.

Si-eun didn't want her to love him for who he was. He wanted her to fall in love with the image he controlled. An image he could shatter later. He built his revenge like a chess game, piece by piece.

He had learned her tastes. He had read the books she borrowed from the library but returned without annotations. He had noted the rhythm of her steps, the days she lingered in the park near the subway, the moments when she finally relaxed her shoulders.

And one day, he offered her coffee.

She accepted. It was the first time they sat face to face.

He didn't look at her.

He stared at the table.

She said, "You don't want to know my name?"

He slowly raised his eyes.

"No. I want you to tell me when you're sure I deserve it."

She didn't answer. But that night, he received a message: Y/N.

And something, in his chest, tightened.

The days went on. And Y/N began to wait for him.

She didn't show it. But he knew. She walked more slowly toward the subway. She sat on that bench a little longer. She touched his sleeves when she laughed.

And Si-eun, more and more, found himself watching her even when he didn't need to. Even when his calculations were finished. Even when he should have cut it off, closed it down, backed away.

But he no longer wanted to.

He thought about her constantly. About her silences. About her contained fear. About that tension she carried like a scar.

He didn't yet realize that this obsession was changing him. That he was no longer in control of everything. That revenge, having taken on flesh, was merging with something else. Not love. No. But a sick possessiveness, a fierce need to have her all to himself.

Y/N was becoming his inner theater.

And he was setting the stage.

---

Y/N should never have stayed after the second glance.

And yet, there she was, a few steps from him, hesitant, straight as an arrow ready to snap. The kind of presence that floats, not because it wants to be seen, but because it doesn't know how to disappear.

Yeon Si-eun stared at her.

Not obviously. Not like a boy looks at a girl. Like a chess player observes the piece he's about to sacrifice to clear the way for his king.

He approached.

"Your shoelace."

She looked down. It was true.

And before she could protest, he crouched down and retied it, slowly. With almost affectionate precision. He didn't look up. He said nothing else.

That was the first time she froze. And that he felt the discreet echo of a crack.

He didn't rush her. He strove to be the opposite of what he was at Eunjang: "gentle, stable, almost clumsy." He opened doors, waited for her to sit before him, always stepping back in narrow corridors. He offered her his umbrella without ever waiting for her to accept.

He made real gestures. Tangible. Irreproachable.

She, shy, avoided his eyes. But she eventually reached out when he offered her a chocolate. She murmured "thank you," then said nothing more.

She thought it was kindness.

She didn't know he had been watching her for weeks, that he had studied her silences like others read musical scores.

He had never seen her cry. And that annoyed him.

Not because he was looking for tears, no. But because he wanted to see her falter, even a little. He wanted her face to crack. For something to give way. He wanted her human, vulnerable, open. Accessible to his pincers.

He wanted to see what he felt when he saw her crying. BECAUSE OF HIM.

Y/N never spoke for long. But she looked at him.

And Yeon Si-eun knew how to decode that gaze. She didn't yet understand what he wanted. She hesitated, she was wary. But she looked.

That was already a crack.

***

He learned her schedule, of course. He knew it better than she did. On days she had literature class, she left earlier. When she had sports, she complained about her back—he had heard her on the phone once. He started waiting for her just after those classes, with a hot drink in his hand.

He didn't hand it to her right away.

He simply said, "I think you had sports today, right? You're walking a bit hunched."

She raised an eyebrow. Wary.

Then he added, casually, "I grabbed two drinks, I don't know why. If you don't want it, I'll drink both."

And she took it. Every time.

***

One day, he intervened.

A boy bumped into her on the school bus. Not violently, not maliciously. But enough for her to lower her eyes, step back, grit her teeth.

Yeon Si-eun, standing a little further away, approached. With calm steps. Slow. He slipped his arm between her and the boy. Without a word.

He stood there, like a wall. She looked at him. He didn't turn his head towards her.

He said nothing. Not that day.

But he knew the poison had just entered her heart. Silent protection is a debt anxious minds never forget.

***

One evening, he approached her on the subway.

"You're trembling."

She started. It was true. It was cold.

He took off his coat and placed it on her shoulders. She protested. He looked at her with that disarming calm.

"Give it back to me tomorrow."

She couldn't say anything more.

The next day, she came at the same time, to the same place, the coat folded against her. He took it back with a slight nod.

"Thanks for holding onto it for me."

She smiled. Small. But sincere.

***

One evening, he followed her further. Not home—he had already done that. No, he followed her when she got lost.

She had stopped in an alley, to cry. Maybe a call, bad news. He didn't hear. But he saw her.

And instead of joining her immediately, he remained hidden. He wanted to see how she cried when she thought she was alone.

He only stepped forward when she tried to wipe her tears with her sleeve.

"Are you lost?" His voice was worried, soft. Too soft for what he was thinking.

She jumped. He offered her a tissue.

She backed away, like a frightened animal. He backed away too, mirroring her, giving her space.

"You can cry in front of me. It's not a weakness."

She said nothing. She just took the tissue.

He waited for her to calm down. Then he walked her back, without speaking. They walked side by side, not touching.

When she got on the bus, she left her hand on the window a little longer than usual.

***

He was attentive without invading, protective without suffocating. That was his method. He created a stable presence, a rare warmth, attention no one else offered her. Not even her friends. Not even the teachers. He asked her simple questions: "Did you sleep well?", "Do you have a headache today?", "Do you prefer silence or music?"

And most importantly, he listened to her.

He barely spoke about himself. He became a mirror, a refuge.

She had never known this kind of boy.

And that was exactly the goal.

***

One day, she cried again.

Not because of him. Not yet.

Someone had humiliated her at school. He had seen her run out.

He didn't follow her immediately. He gave her three minutes.

Then he arrived, gently. He sat near her, without looking at her.

And he simply said: "Do you want me to listen? Or should I stay silent?"

She didn't answer. But she didn't leave. She laid her head on his knees.

And he ran his hand through her hair, slowly. Like a brother. Like a lover. Like a monster.

That evening, Si-eun looked at his hands.

They had trembled.

Not from anger. Not from sorrow. From pure excitement.

She's getting attached, he thought. Her defenses are lowering. This is the right pace.

But deep inside him, something—a hoarse murmur, a child's voice buried under stone—said: And you? What are you becoming?

He brushed the thought aside.

***

The next day, he ignored her.

Completely.

She looked around, at their tacit meeting spot. He wasn't there.

This hot-and-cold game, he mastered it. It was a cognitive strategy: emotional disorientation, attention dependency, withdrawal effect.

The day after, she sent him a message:

Are you okay?

He replied three hours later:

I'm just a bit elsewhere. Are you okay?

She took a long time to reply.

Then:

Yes, I think so.

And he knew. She was waiting for him. She was thinking of him.

It wasn't love.

It was perfect control. It was retribution.

She could have prevented the nightmare.

She didn't.

So she was going to love her own tormentor. She was going to love him to death. Or almost.

---

Y/N would never have imagined that perfidy would present itself to her with such a calm, clear gaze. Yeon Si-eun's eyes screamed neither hatred nor violence. They were steady, almost gentle, a clear, unfathomable black. It was precisely this contrast that chilled the blood: this total absence of turmoil, this glacial peace in his gaze as he laid his destructive intentions upon her.

His pupils didn't tremble. They seemed to calculate, dissect, measure the effect of every word, every silence. He didn't look at Y/N as an enemy, nor even as a target—he looked at her as a truth he had already accepted, an inevitable consequence of a plan he had to accomplish to no longer be alone. Alone in his suffering.

And yet, that evening, as she timidly placed her hand on the bench where they had first met, she didn't yet know that she was already locked in. Locked into something that wasn't a relationship. More like a net. A trap. A descent.

Yeon Si-eun observed. Always.

And that day, he knew. She had fallen.

He saw it in the way she lowered her eyes when he arrived. In that tiny flutter of eyelids when he brushed her arm. In the silence, especially. The silence that weighed like a confession.

She was his.

Not because of an oath. But because he had become the oxygen in a world too narrow. The only fixed point in her chaos. He had replaced fear with another fear. A softer, more perverse fear: the fear of losing him.

And he found himself smiling. Not with relief. Not with pride.

But with a glacial pleasure. An inhuman pleasure.

It was no longer a strategy. It was an impulse.

Yeon Si-eun had always been a stranger to his own emotions. But at that moment, when he saw her flinch as he raised his voice a little for the first time, he felt something sharp. Something unhealthy.

He liked it.

He liked seeing her uncertain, broken into tiny fragments, trying to understand what she had done wrong. And most of all, he adored it: she always thought the problem came from her.

So he accused without accusing.

"It's crazy how you always manage to disappoint me when I finally expect something from you."

She looked up. Struck, without understanding.

He sighed, softly, as if he were tired of her.

"I thought you were listening to me. But oh well. Maybe I idealized."

He turned on his heels.

And she remained, alone. Full of that toxic doubt.

***

One day, she told him about her failed presentation. She was nervous. He listened, then simply said:

"Maybe you should have asked me for help. But oh well. I guess you're used to doing things alone. Even if it doesn't work."

No reproach. No anger. Just a blade, slid without pressure, but with a surgeon's precision.

She fell silent. She even nodded.

***

But after every cruel word came the sweetness.

The late message: "Sorry. I was at my wit's end. You calm me, you know. Don't change."

The next day, a chocolate. A book. A song he said reminded him of her.

She didn't understand. She thought she had to do better.

And Si-eun watched her sink. Slowly.

Yeon Si-eun no longer just felt control. He felt gratification.

She became malleable. And he tested her limits like an artisan tests the resistance of a rare metal. He pushed her just enough for her to bend. But never to the point of breaking her. Not yet.

He knew that if she left too soon, the game would be over. He wanted her to stay. For her to get lost.

She was becoming dependent.

And he, coldly, methodically, plotted her fall.

He chose his words methodically. Always on the edge.

"You always have this habit of messing everything up, don't you?"

"You're tiring, sometimes. You don't know when to shut up at the right time."

"You always want reassurance. It's exhausting."

But after: "I'm sorry. It's me. You're not responsible. I'm the one spiraling."

And she stayed. Every time. Because he knew when to cry, when to tremble, when to let her hold him so she would feel useful.

Si-eun wove around her a cocoon of guilt and attachment.

***

One day, he kissed her.

Brutally.

Not in violence. In precision. He leaned in, slowly, brushed her lips, then took them as if he were drowning. His hand against her nape, his fingers in her hair. A long, slow, deep kiss. Too tender for what he truly felt.

She responded. Barely. But enough for him to know.

When he pulled away, he looked at her with an almost amused expression. He said:

"You kiss like a girl who hopes to be loved. It's cute."

She blushed, hurt.

He added, looking away:

"I had a strange feeling. Like you were making up for being absent when someone was counting on you. But oh well. You can't always run away."

He didn't mention Su-ho. He didn't need to. She understood.

Her face crumbled. She turned, wanting to leave.

He let her.

That evening, he sent: "I regret it. I said whatever. Stay. I need you."

And that was the only truth. He needed her. He mustn't be the only one suffering.

She came back.

He asked her loaded questions:

"Do you trust me?"

"Do you think I'm a good person?"

She answered yes.

And he smiled.

"You say that because you want to believe it. Not because it's true."

She remained silent.

He knew that with each retort, he was digging a little deeper. Into the flesh. Into the heart.

And sometimes, when she cried too loudly, he would place his hands on her cheeks, and murmur:

"Stop it. You cry too much. It's suffocating."

But right after:

"I'm sorry. I'm broken, Y/N. I'm broken and I don't want to break you too. But you stay. Thank you. Thank you for being here."

And she cried harder.

And he closed his eyes. Because with every tear, he felt something more than human.

And then... He had an erection.

A pure, morbid pleasure. It was dirty and totally twisted.

Perhaps he was broken for good. But finally, he was no longer suffering alone.

Yeon Si-eun was becoming his own poison. He fed on her suffering but also plunged into a spiral where he no longer recognized his own pain.

He dreamed of Su-ho. Of his gaze. Of that fall. Of that moment frozen in blood. And Y/N, always there. Motionless. Too late.

He wasn't punishing her for what she had done.

He was punishing her for what she hadn't done.

And the more she loved him, the more he hated her.

And the more he hated her, the more he kept her.

Like a wild animal guards a still-living prey. To prolong the pleasure.

But in his alone moments, Yeon Si-eun watched his hands tremble, still.

He wondered if he was still human.

And he answered himself that yes.

Because he was suffering.

And only someone who suffers can inflict suffering with such care.

It wasn't love. It was possession.

And she was almost his.

---

Y/N took three days to reply to him.

Three days without a message, without a reaction, without even a "seen." Three days of unusual silence, but not hostile. A silence of self-preservation. She told herself that maybe... if she cut back a little, she could breathe. Think. She didn't want to hurt him—that was the irony. Even in distancing herself, she wanted to spare his pain.

But Yeon Si-eun was not one to be left gently.

So, he created a story.

Not a complete story—just a crack. Enough chaos for Y/N to return on her own.

It happened one Thursday afternoon in the Eunjang High School courtyard. The boy's name was Min-jae. A student with no history, known for his calm demeanor, decent grades, his lack of trouble-making.

When Si-eun hit him, Min-jae didn't even understand why.

Others tried to intervene, but Si-eun was screaming. Incoherent insults, mixed with pleas. At one point, he collapsed to the ground, holding his bruised face, murmuring a name.

Y/N.

It wasn't Si-eun who contacted Y/N first. It was a girl from her high school, a classmate who had received the video. A confused scene, filmed on the fly: shouts, a fight, a black eye. And at the center, Yeon Si-eun, almost unrecognizable. You could hear him gasping. Accompanied by the message: "I think he snapped because of you."

Then came the voice note.

He had never sent one before. And that's what made her open it, despite her fear.

[voice note - 1m43s]

First, a hoarse breath could be heard. Then sobs. Then his voice, almost childlike, delirious:

— "I... damn it... I'm sorry... Y/N... I... I failed..."

Distorted sobs. Nonsensical words. He mutters, almost moans:

— "It's my fault. I wanted to... I lost... I lost you, didn't I? Is that it? You don't want me anymore?..."

> "I'm sorry, Y/N... I'm sorry. It's not your fault, it's me. I'm the problem, it's me, it's me, it's me... You shouldn't have left. I'm... I can't breathe without you anymore. You were there. You were there, damn it. And now I'm nothing."

> (He coughs, he cries. She doesn't really know)

> "You wanted us to take some distance? I tried. I held on. But now I'm empty. I'm empty and I hurt all over. Tell me you still love me, Y/N. Say it. Goddamn it, say it."

The end blurs. Just panicked breathing. And a hiccup: "Stay."

Y/N didn't think twice.

She took a bus across town to Eunjang, without warning. He had sat in the shadow of a pillar in the gym, pressing an ice pack to his eye, deliberately positioned incorrectly. So she could see the extent of the bruise, so it would still bleed a little. Dramatic effect mattered.

Y/N, instinctively, knelt beside him. He looked at her like a lost child.

— "I was afraid you'd leave... I thought I'd lost you..."

He placed his hand against his chest, hard, as if to stop his heart from beating.

— "I hurt, Y/N. So much. And I don't know if you're still there for me..."

He felt it.

She wavered.

[Yeon Si-eun's POV]

One more word. One more tremor.

He feels her fragile. Damp. Malleable.

He feels her coming back to him for good.

He cries. Real tears, or almost.

And between two spasms that he deliberately accentuates, he murmurs:

> "Tell me I'm not alone in this relationship. Tell me. Reassure me. Prove it."

He holds her by the wrists. His fingers slide. She wants to comfort him. She no longer knows how.

He adds:

> "You left, Y/N. You left. And I stayed here wondering if you already had someone else. Someone from your school. Someone who looks at you better than me."

She shakes her head. She stammers: "No... no... never..."

> "Then say it. Tell me you're mine. Completely. That you think of me when you fall asleep."

He hugs her tightly. Too tightly.

Ohhh, sweetheart... it's almost too easy.

Then he kisses her.

Not tenderly. Not brutally either. It's a poisoned kiss. His mouth is bruised, split on the lower lip. Y/N tastes the metallic tang of blood, but doesn't pull back. Not immediately.

He clings to her. Embraces her with too much force. His hands close around her hips, her nape, her waist. He presses her against him like a castaway clinging to a wooden plank.

She tries to push him away. He resists.

> "Do you want me to calm down?"

His voice is hoarse, muffled, almost extinguished against her mouth.

> "Then tell me I'm your only one. Tell me you live for me. That you need me. That without me, you'll collapse."

[Si-eun's inner voice]

She's going to break.

One more word.

Look at her. She thinks she can leave. She hasn't even started trying.

His hand slid against her nape, forcing her to stay very close.

— "Say it, Y/N. I'm not asking you. I'm begging you. I don't want to become what I was before you. You don't want that? Huh?"

Inner voice (Si-eun):

Am I dreaming, or is she hesitating?

— "If you don't say anything, I'll know. I'll know I invented everything. That you were never there."

She's going to break. She HAS to break.

Y/N says something. She breathes out, with all the sincerity she can muster in the embrace:

> "I... love you, Si-eun. But... I'm scared. I'm scared of what you're doing. Of what you're becoming..."

He freezes. Just for a moment. Then he pulls back slightly. Looks at her.

His eyes gleam with a troubled light.

> "You love me?"

He laughs. Short, dry.

> "You love me but you run from me. You love me but you let me destroy myself."

He grips her face, gently. Too gently for it to be tender. A control, not a caress.

> "Love, Y/N, isn't an option. It's not a game of distance. If you love me, you stay. You get involved. You suffer with me. Otherwise, you're lying."

The sun sets. Eunjang's hallways are almost empty. He lay down on the concrete, pulled her against him. She didn't dare resist. Her head on his chest, he stroked her hair.

— You're not leaving me, are you?

She shook her head.

— You're not going to betray me, are you?

Silence.

— Because I couldn't survive if you did that.

Another silence.

And this time, he cried for real. Not from pain. But from triumph.

Inner voice (Si-eun):

She's fallen.

I can breathe again.

But not for too long. She'll have to say it again. And again. Until she has nothing left but that.

Her love for me is all that holds her up now.

And that... that's almost eternity.

---

From that day on, Yeon Si-eun had changed.

No more raised voices. No more sharp silences. He spoke softly, always gently, as if every word risked hurting her. As if he was learning to touch her without damaging her.

In the morning, he waited for her in front of the high school gate, his cheeks flushed with cold or impatience, she never knew. He straightened up as soon as he saw her, slipped his hands into his pockets, nervous, and handed her a small object, always different: a star-shaped eraser, a dried flower stuck in a book page, a photo of them printed on glossy paper—"It's stupid, but I wanted to give it to you."

He never said "I love you" directly. He said it differently. He said it by opening his umbrella awkwardly so that she would be better covered. He said it by blowing on her fingers when she was cold, or by tying her shoelaces when they came undone. He said it by watching her out of the corner of his eye, unable to look away for too long.

When she laughed, he blushed. Really. A real red, that rose to his ears. He tried to act proud, to shrug as if it was nothing. But sometimes, she caught him staring at the ground, smiling to himself, clinging to the strap of his bag as if that simple burst of happiness could make him tremble.

He seemed so lost in his feelings.

Si-eun, with his false airs of a solid boy, melted at her slightest gentleness.

One day, she had sneezed while they were walking. He had stopped dead, had rummaged frantically in his bag to hand her a tissue. He had even tried to wrap her in a scarf that he had bought just for her, without saying so. And when she had thanked him, he had murmured, almost ashamed:

— "I don't want you to get sick. I couldn't bear not having you… even for just one day."

Another day, she had fallen asleep on his shoulder in an empty bus. He hadn't moved. Not once. Even when his arm had become completely numb.

When she had woken up, confused, he had simply breathed:

— "Did you have a dream?"

— "I think so."

— "I hope I was in it…"

She had laughed softly, and he had bitten his lip, unable to look her in the face for a few seconds. He had blushed, again.

He had this rare modesty, this way of showing himself without exposing himself. He sometimes trembled when she placed her hand on his. He clung to her as if she were the only certainty in his life. He said that she smelled "like summer even in winter," and that her silences frightened him less than all the words in the world.

When they made love, it was gentle. More tender than physical. He took his time, looked at her for a long time, stopped to ask her useless but urgent questions:

— "Do you want me to kiss you there?"

— "Do you love me a little, there, now? Just a little?"

He caressed her with open palms, as if he was afraid of pressing too hard. He buried his face in her neck afterward, stayed close to her like a child after a nightmare. Sometimes, he cried. Not loudly. Just discreet tears, which he wiped away quickly, almost ashamed. But she knew it. She felt his body tremble against hers.

— "I've never had this before you. Never had someone who stays." The one who remained you let die

He kissed her shoulders. Her neck. Her fingers. He laughed when she had hiccups, told her absurd stories to make her fall asleep. He pretended to know how to cook and failed everything, but served his charred dishes with a clumsy pride.

— "I'm trying. For you. I'm trying to be a good person."

She believed him. Every gesture, every look, seemed woven with a timid sincerity. He was too fragile to lie, wasn't he?

Once, he wrote on her hand, with a pen:

“stay.”

He said nothing while doing it. He simply took her palm and traced the letters, one by one, with care.

When she looked up at him, he murmured, tears in his eyes:

— "I'm so afraid you'll leave."

And he hugged her tightly. For a long time. Long enough for her to think he would always protect her. Long enough for her to forget the cold. The world. The rest.

That day, she told herself that she had never been loved so much. She thought she was rebuilding him. She thought he was laying down his weapons. She thought she was the bandage, the light, the outstretched hand.

She thought.

How stupid she is

***

— "I have to tell you something… but I'm afraid you'll hate me after."

He murmured it one evening, his eyes on the ceiling, his face half in shadow.

Y/N had turned her head abruptly, her heart clenching. She thought of a revelation of past love, a crime, a confession.

He said nothing else. Just that. He let the silence do its work. And she, she clung to that sentence as if it were a burning wire. All night, she woke up in fits and starts, her gaze wild towards her phone. Something serious. Something hidden.

He didn't reply. And the next day, he only told her:

— "Get ready. We're going out."

***

They walked under the trees, in an old neighborhood with peaceful alleys. He held her hand, intertwined his fingers with a touching clumsiness. At each red light, he placed his lips on her temple. He stopped in small shops, showed her unimportant objects—a broken figurine, a rusty pendant—as if he wanted to share everything with her.

He smiled too much. Apologized too much. Bumped into her on purpose to laugh. A thick, almost sticky tenderness.

Y/N was happy. Confused, but happy. He told her:

— "Did you change something about your voice? It's softer than usual…"

She blushed.

He seemed nervous, like a teenager on a first date. She thought of a declaration. A tearful request.

But as they approached the city center, she felt something change. A pressure in her hand. A tension in his jaws. He no longer needed to play: she was already following him.

And then she saw the hospital. He said nothing. He gently pulled her towards the entrance.

Doubt, first, then certainty.

***

Room 317

The corridors were cold. The floor shone. Footsteps echoed far away. A disinfectant smell, too strong.

Y/N, already, was no longer breathing normally. She trembled.

Si-eun hadn't released her hand. He held her like a handcuffed person.

They passed two doors, then a third. He stopped in front of a room. No name, just a number. He opened without knocking.

Inside, time had frozen.

Su-ho.

The boy she knew, the one she had laughed with, who had protected her one day in that same boxing club.

On a white bed, machines in a row, tubes, muffled alarms. His body kept alive by an impersonal science.

Y/N felt her throat close.

A clenching in her legs.

A pressure in her temples, unbearable.

She didn't dare breathe.

She knew.

She understood what Si-eun had just done.

She didn't cry. Not yet. Her body was defending itself. The shock was too immense. Everything was emptying within her.

And he… he was smiling.

He made her sit down, by force, on the chair near the bed.

He circled her like a quiet predator.

— "You recognize him, huh?"

She didn't answer.

— "It's crazy, he still has the same smile. Well… he had it. Until the day you decided not to pick up your fucking phone."

She wanted to get up. He pushed her back into the chair, violently.

— "No. You stay. You look. You take responsibility."

His voice was broken, sharp.

— "You were there. You saw him. You knew. And you were afraid? Poor darling… Y/N was afraid."

He spat that name like a poison.

— "He's been like this since that day. Since the day you decided your silence was worth more than his life."

He speaks softly, but each word lacerates her.

— "You watched him get destroyed. You hid behind your fragile little body and your fear of intervening."

— "He's here because you preferred to close your eyes."

She opened her mouth. Nothing came out.

— "You think I could love someone like you?"

She staggered, her lips trembling.

— "You want to know why I kissed you? Why I told you that you were everything to me? Because I wanted you to cling on. I wanted you to love yourself a little… before I broke you."

He laughs. Dry, nervous. Like a knife against glass.

— "It's crazy how people who lack love swallow anything… even shit if it's covered in pretty packaging."

And he laughed. Like the creep he is.

Y/N cowered. Her back against the backrest. Her breathing cut off.

— "You feel dirty? No? Not yet? Wait."

He took a bracelet out of his pocket. A worn, braided cord bracelet.

— "It was his. Keep it. You'll have to live with that."

He forced it onto her wrist. Y/N didn't have the strength to protest.

Her heart was beating too fast. She heard each beep of the monitor like a slap. Each artificial breath like proof.

Shame, finally, burst forth. But she didn't cry. She collapsed in silence. A blocked sob. A panic without screams.

Her skin seemed to want to flee her body. She was hot. She was cold. Her vision blurred.

— "Tell me again that you love me. Come on. Say it now."

She shook her head.

— "Too late, huh? Now you see. Now you KNOW."

— "Look at yourself. That's what you are. A coward. A selfish person. And you dare to love?"

He leans over the bracelet, then over her. Coldly:

— "Don't forget what I showed you today. You are not forgiven. You are not lovable. You are guilty. And it's me who holds you, Y/N. It's me you should fear. Because I can do this a thousand times. A thousand days. A thousand nights."

In Si-eun's mind

He watches her dissolve.

He feels an acidic satisfaction. A black victory.

He doesn't smile. He doesn't rejoice. He anchors his pain in hers.

That was the goal. For her to bear his grief. For her to breathe it, to swallow it. Until she suffocates.

She has fallen.

And he, finally, can breathe.

But not for too long.

Because she will have to come back to it. Again. Again.

Until her love is nothing more than a remnant of guilt. Until she offers herself to him no longer by choice… but by debt.

.................................................................................

Sieun New headcanon here

@mariii-0001 @mizxuqii @iiwsmr @emswirls

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xxsyluslittlecrowxx · 9 days ago

Text

isekai and in over my head.

chapter one | congratulations, you've died again.

it starts with you waking up in what might be a coma, probably isn’t a otome game, and is definitely not your life. It ends with five dangerously attractive men forming an unofficial committee to keep you alive, loved, and under constant emotional surveillance.

ABOUT | 3.1k words. f!reader x 5 LI (non-romance so far). slice of life.

TAGS | isekai. for shits and giggles. flirting. banter. fluff. survivors guilt.

NOTE: i’ve been spiraling a bit—writing, life, family stuff. so i’m putting angst on pause for now. i just want to write something light, a little unhinged, maybe even fun. here’s a side of me you probably haven’t met. either way, let’s laugh a little.

INDEX | chapter one ✧ chapter two ✧ chapter three ✧

chapter one | congratulations, you've died again.

THE FIRST THING...I noticed was the light.

Not warm sunlight. Not even the dim, flickering sort that hums overhead in hospitals. This was harsher—clinical, fluorescent—like someone had screwed neon tubes directly into my skull. It sliced through my eyelids in angles too precise, too sharp, and far too awake for whatever this was.

I groaned.

My head didn’t hurt, not exactly. It just felt... full. Like someone had replaced my brain with a bag of cotton wool and static. My mouth was dry, my tongue unfamiliar, clumsy against my teeth. My hands twitched beneath me, brushing against something cold and unwelcoming—metal, maybe. Or concrete. Hard to say. My brain hadn’t quite caught up to the part where things had weight and texture.

For a long, uncertain moment, I just lay there. Staring.

The sky above me wasn’t blue.

It was a pale, silvery sheen, streaked with bright, swirling fractures—like someone had smashed a mirror and scattered the shards across the clouds. They hung there, glinting, suspended in air like pieces of broken glass refusing to fall.

Which, all things considered, wasn’t ideal.

Around me, the skyline stretched upward in angles that didn’t quite make sense—black spires, too smooth, too symmetrical, like a fever dream of the future. Buildings that shimmered with their own light. Towering structures that bent the laws of physics just enough to make my stomach turn.

And the ships.

They hovered midair, motionless yet humming. Too steady for helicopters, too sleek for jets. Like someone had redrawn the rules of flight while I wasn’t looking.

Okay.

I closed my eyes again.

Deep breath. In. Hold. Out.

This was fine. This was probably fine.

Because obviously, it wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. No version of reality I knew included silver skies or floating ships or buildings shaped like knives. Which left me with one of three options:

One: Dream.

Two: Coma.

Three: Hallucination.

I went with coma. It sounded marginally less embarrassing than hallucinating a sci-fi skyline. People fell into comas all the time and woke up in places their brains had cobbled together from memory, TV shows, and the occasional Reddit spiral. Right? It happened.

Because the alternative—the one brushing against the frayed edges of my thoughts—was just too absurd.

I swallowed.

The absurd thing had a name.

Love and Deepspace.

No. Absolutely not.

I shook my head. Or tried to. It was like moving through syrup. My body wasn’t quite mine yet.

This wasn’t that. This was just... brain noise. A side effect of too many sleepless nights and maybe a mildly enthusiastic mobile game phase. That was all. People dreamed about video games all the time. That didn’t mean I’d somehow ended up inside one. That would be ridiculous.

So ridiculous, in fact, that my heart was starting to beat a little too fast just thinking about it.

I sat up slowly. The ground beneath me tilted, a slow, nauseating see-saw. Balance wobbled, but held.

Somewhere in the distance, a siren wailed—sharp, synthetic bursts echoing against the skyline like a warning shot. I turned toward the sound.

Figures moved in careful formations, small as ants against the horizon. Uniformed, some of them. Black silhouettes flitting between metal towers, fast and focused, like they knew exactly what they were doing.

I squinted.

Pain bloomed behind my eyes, a quiet, steady throb—don’t look too hard.

Another breath. Shallower this time.

Dream. Coma. Hallucination.

Pick one.

The air tasted like metal.

That strange, sterile tang—part scorched wire, part hospital corridor. Somewhere nearby, something sizzled. A pulse of heat rolled through the street like an aftershock, brushing against my skin with the vague threat of combustion.

I pushed myself upright, limbs reluctant but intact. This time, my knees held. Small victories. I’d take them.

A voice rang out in the distance—male, sharp, cutting through the static of my thoughts.

“—Pipsqueak!”

I didn’t flinch.

It wasn’t for me. Obviously. Why would it be?

Another burst of static cracked above. A ripple of... something—energy? reality?—shimmered across the silver sky like heat on asphalt. My brain tried to explain it, failed, and quietly replaced the gaps with white noise. I moved forward. Or wandered, really—aiming vaguely for the direction that seemed least likely to kill me.

“Pipsqueak!”

There it was again. Closer this time.

A chill climbed my spine.

I slowed. My heart stuttered in its rhythm, and logic gave up entirely.

Just look. Not hard, not long—just enough to confirm this is all a mistake.

I turned.

And froze.

He was running toward me.

And by he, I mean him. The man. The myth. The military-grade mistake of my emotionally stunted dreams. The colonel. The fan edit. The character who had no business being that hot in a pixelated cutscene.

Caleb.

And—dear god—it was really him.

I couldn’t move. Couldn’t blink. I just stood there, limp and blinking and deeply malfunctioning, as he sprinted toward me across the broken street like the chaos was just backdrop and he’d been waiting for his cue.

His boots hit the ground like a metronome. His coat flared behind him like it had been programmed to. And that face—that face—wore the expression. The one he always had right before everything went to hell: intense, focused, softer than it had any right to be. Brow furrowed just enough to look concerned. Jaw set. Eyes sharp enough to slice through time itself.

And then—swear to god—I heard it.

That song.

The edit song. The one with the slow drum and the breathy vocals that every Caleb stan on the internet had synced to his most dramatic cutscenes. The one where the MC catches him mid-fall, wounded but weightless, the entire galaxy burning behind them.

Somewhere in the back of my brain, a full string section began to swell.

I actually shook my head. “Stop it,” I muttered, half out loud. “Get a grip.”

It didn’t help.

Because the way he was looking at me—as if the universe had cracked open and I was the only piece left that mattered—was exactly like the game.

He shouted something again. I didn’t catch the word. Just the sound of it: urgent. Certain.

I stumbled back a step.

Because this wasn’t some lookalike. This wasn’t some glitch of the coma-dream matrix. This wasn’t fan art or hallucination.

This was him.

Real. Undeniable. Breathtakingly—infuriatingly—three-dimensional.

Which meant… which meant…

I swallowed hard. My throat rebelled. My palms had gone slick.

He was almost close enough now that I could see the shift of his muscles beneath that damn coat. The way each step sent a ripple of motion through his body, grounded and graceful, like even gravity didn’t want to get in his way. His boots struck pavement with military certainty. His voice carried like a commandment.

He was real.

Too real.

This wasn’t a face cobbled together from bad lighting and wishful thinking. This wasn’t the result of scrolling too many fan pages at 2 a.m. He had weight. Presence. Light clung to his skin like it didn’t want to let go. His voice resonated. His gaze held.

And me?

I wanted to drool.

Right there. Mid-apocalypse. Mouth open. Brain buffering. One click away from falling flat on my face in front of an emotionally unavailable fictional war god.

I was about to be scooped up into the arms of a man who, for all intents and purposes, wasn’t supposed to exist—except with abs that could end world peace and a voice that sounded like safety and sin rolled into one muscular, tactical daydream.

He was nearly upon me when survival instincts kicked in—and promptly malfunctioned.

So I did the only thing that made sense.

I shut my eyes, slapped my face, and hoped I’d pass out.

I didn't.

The sting rang out louder than expected. My palm left a warm print across my cheek, and my dignity evaporated on contact.

When I opened my eyes again, he was there.

Right there.

Towering over me like a verdict.

“Pipsqueak.”

His voice was lower now, wrapped in something between relief and reprimand. Like someone who’d been holding his breath too long and only just remembered how to exhale.

I stared up at him, utterly silent.

Because what exactly do you say to a man who thinks he knows you better than anyone in the universe—when you’ve only ever known him through a screen?

“Are you hurt?” he asked, already reaching for me. “Did you hit your head?”

Yes. On the pavement of delusion.

“No,” I said quickly, even though my voice cracked like it had been in storage since 1998. “I mean—yes. Maybe. I don't know.”

His hands found me before I could back away.

One cupped the side of my face, angling it gently toward the light. The other hovered under my elbow, like I was something fragile—something that might fall apart if left unattended for too long.

Which wasn’t... inaccurate.

But his touch. God.

Warm. Grounded. Steady. So deliberate, like he’d done this before. Like this was muscle memory. Like he’d held this face in his hands a hundred times—knew it from the curve of the brow to the line of the jaw.

I couldn’t breathe.

And I couldn’t lie, either. Not well. Not under pressure. My face was a glitching disaster of emotions—shock, awe, guilt, and a flash of something primal I will not be taking questions on at this time.

He misread it, of course.

“Still in shock,” he murmured, brushing a thumb over my cheekbone.

I shivered. Not helpfully.

“You're freezing.”

No. I was combusting. Actively boiling inside my skin. My bones were sweating. If he touched me for one more second, I’d melt straight through the pavement.

“Pips, your vitals are all over the place,” he said, checking some kind of wrist scanner he’d unclipped with infuriating efficiency. “You must've been close when the second pulse from the rift hit.”

Second pulse? Rift hit? The hell was he talking about...

My brain could not compute. It was juggling too much: his nearness, his impossible voice, the nickname he kept using like it belonged to me.

“Stop calling me that,” I said.

Too sharp. Reflexive.

He blinked. His hands stilled, but didn’t fall away.

My breath caught.

And then, without thinking, I moved.

I pushed him.

It wasn’t dramatic. Not even forceful. Just a small, shaky shove to the chest—barely enough to make him step back. But he did. Instantly. Like the spell broke the second I touched it.

We stared at each other.

His face shifted. Only a little. A flicker of confusion, chased by something quieter. Something dangerously close to hurt.

“I'm sorry,” I blurted. “I just—don't touch me.”

It came out worse than it felt.

Inside, I was clawing at my own ribs, trying to make space to think. His closeness had short-circuited something critical.

He straightened slowly. Not offended. Just... recalibrating.

“Alright,” he said softly. “No touching.”

The way he said it—careful, like it hurt—made my stomach twist.

Like he'd done something wrong.

Like I had.

“I didn't mean—” I started, but the words tangled and fell apart in my mouth before they could reach air.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

He wasn’t supposed to exist. Not like this. Not with real muscles and real warmth and real concern folding into every breath. He was supposed to be code. Character art. A game.

And yet, somehow, he was looking at me like I’d just broken his heart with one uncertain step.

He stepped back. Half a pace. Just enough to give me room. Just enough to let the cold rush in.

“It's okay,” he said. “We can talk about it later...”

His voice was softer now. Like I was made of glass, and he’d already heard the first crack.

He turned his head, muttered something into a comm clipped to his collar. I caught fragments—medical, stabilized, containment zone—but none of it landed.

I stood there, adrift in my own body.

Because he thought I was her.

The real her. The MC.

And I... wasn’t.

Not the one who’d grown up with him, trained beside him, made him laugh, made him stay. Not the one who teased him into softening, or shattered him just enough to help him heal.

That was her story.

Not mine.

But he didn’t know that.

And I couldn’t tell him.

Because if I did, I might lose the look on his face.

This softness. This impossible tenderness—woven through ash and urgency and dust and dread.

So I said nothing.

Besides, I needed answers. How I got here. And—if it was even possible—how to get home.

Caleb turned his head again, murmuring into his comms, his voice clipped now—brisk, efficient, all that earlier warmth folded beneath military precision.

“Secure the perimeter. Prep evac. She's coming with me—yes, I'll bring her in for assessment. Zayne's on standby, right?”

I blinked.

Zayne?

The name hit like a spark to dry kindling.

My head whipped up. “Wait—did you just say—?”

But he was still talking, still barking words I couldn’t follow—containment, bio-signal, integrity, elevated charge—his mouth moving around the vocabulary of a world I wasn’t supposed to be in.

I took a step forward, breath lodged high in my throat.

Did he just say Zayne?

As in... ZAYNE?

As in Doctor Zayne?

As in sweet-tooth, sharp-witted, god-tier-with-a-scalpel Zayne? The one with the voice like melted chocolate and hands that made the fandom lose structural integrity?

As in Dawnbreaker Daddy?

I stared at Caleb, genuinely unraveling.

Because that name wasn’t background noise. That name was legend. That name wore glasses and saved lives with one hand while tearing through enemies with the other. That name had a two-part origin myth, a drop rate lower than mercy, and an entire corner of the internet dedicated to his jawline.

And now he was apparently… on standby?

Like this was just a normal Thursday?

“What—”

A sharp beep cut through the air.

Then another. Then a rising whine, mechanical and shrill—like a futuristic kettle winding itself up to panic.

I looked down.

A device. Strapped to my wrist. Sleek and unfamiliar, pulsing blue at the edges. Numbers scrolled across the surface—fast, tight, cryptic. A countdown? Coordinates? Diagnostics?

“What the hell is that?” I muttered, mostly to myself.

Caleb turned.

No—snapped.

He crossed the space between us in two strides, wrapping one hand around my wrist and lifting it for a better look. His eyes scanned the display, jaw tightening.

“Shit,” he muttered. “Metaflux spike. Too soon.”

I wasn’t sure whether to be worried, terrified, or offended that metaflux wasn't just a word in a game, but a real thing in my current reality.

Before I could settle on a reaction, he looked at me again—different now. Sharper. Command-mode fully engaged.

“You still have your handgun?”

I blinked. “My what?”

“Your sidearm. On your thigh.”

“My gun?”

He gestured—two fingers, quick and precise—toward my leg like it was obvious.

I followed his gaze.

And choked.

Strapped to my thigh—like a casual accessory—was a matte black firearm. Sleek. Polished. Very real. It hugged the curve of my leg like it had always been there. Like I belonged with it.

My stomach flipped.

I hadn’t even noticed it. I had a gun. I had a gun.

I. Had. A. Gun.

“Okay,” I breathed. “Okay. That's... a lot.”

Caleb’s face didn’t shift, but something eased slightly around his eyes. Like he registered the rising panic and adjusted for it in real-time.

“I know your head's still scrambled,” he said, calm and even. “But we don't have time. Wanderers are breaking through the breach.”

Wanderers.

As in the actual nightmare fuel from the game?

The voidborn horrors with spindly limbs and glowing mouths and movement patterns that made your skin crawl?

I swallowed.

Hard.

This wasn’t funny anymore.

(Okay, it had stopped being funny about three hallucinations ago, but this was now fully entering run-screaming-into-the-sunset territory.)

Caleb saw it—the shallow breath, the inching step backward, the way my fingers curled like I could vanish into my own palms.

And to his credit, he didn’t flinch. Didn’t push. He just stood there—still, grounded. Like he’d wait forever if I needed him to.

“You're safe with me,” he said quietly.

And I hated—hated—that it helped.

That those four words landed somewhere deep and shaking. That they loosened something I hadn’t realized I was holding. That they made me want to believe him, even though everything in me screamed don't.

It wasn’t the words.

It was the way he said them.

Not we'll keep you safe. Not you'll be fine. But you're safe with me.

It was personal.

It was protective.

It was too much.

I didn’t say anything. Just nodded.

Once.

Because if I opened my mouth, I might scream.

Caleb shifted beside me, speaking into his comm again—voice low, clipped, all business.

But I wasn’t listening anymore.

The air had changed.

Not the temperature. Not the pressure. Something else. Something… off. Sharper. Thinner. Like reality itself had sucked in a breath—and forgotten how to exhale.

Then the light bent.

Not dramatically. Not with thunder or fanfare. Just a shimmer—subtle, glassy—like a mirage on hot pavement.

Except it moved against the breeze.

Wrong.

Wrong in a way that prickled across my skin like static. Like instinct. Like the deepest part of my brain had already decided we are not supposed to see this.

Caleb snapped to attention. “Get behind me.”

And then I saw it.

The tear opened twenty meters out—ripping clean through the air like a mouth mid-scream. A sickly blue glow spilled from the breach, curling around something moving.

No—emerging.

Limbs.

Not arms. Not legs. Limbs. Jointed too many times. Bent in ways bones should never bend. Skin like wax stretched over sinew, too smooth, too long. It pulled itself from the rift as if being born—and hating every second of it.

A Wanderer.

An actual, canon-accurate, Wanderer.

And up close?

It wasn’t just nightmare fuel. It was too real.

Flickering sigils twisted across its body, pulsing with something foul and alive. Its face—or whatever it had instead—turned toward us, blind but searching. It clicked.

Once. Twice.

Like bone tapping bone.

Caleb stepped in front of me.

I didn’t move.

I couldn’t.

Because my body had gone ice cold from the inside out.

This wasn’t a cutscene.

There was no turn order. No dodge button. No pull to restart.

The creature roared.

Sound cracked through the sky like a warning shot from hell itself. The ground shook. Caleb raised his weapon.

And me?

I just stared, lips parting, voice flat with disbelief as my nervous system gave up entirely.

“Oh, fuck no.”

To be continued...

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dckweed · 6 months ago

Text

ROSIE!, alpha!simon riley x omega reader

in which captain price sends alpha simon on a much needed vacation to his secluded countryside cabin, but leaves out a most important detail- he has a live in omega caretaker to care for his little cabin when he’s away! and she’s the prettiest, sweetest little thing that simon ever did see..

warnings: alpha/omega universe, mentions/depictions of abuse, smut, pregnancy, kind of forced proximity?, ill add as i go...please note that i know NOTHING about COD but i am in love with the 141 guys and this has been rotting in my brain. abuse is depicted in this one right off the bat,ptsd/nightmares, panty sniffing, face sitting, over stim, biting, squirting, i think our wolf just hates us okay? because everytime i write her, she comes out so mean.

please click this link! each click helps me earn some extra money, as well as each person that clicks the link and signs up (its completely free, and takes 0 time), a completely harmless way to earn some extra cash that doesn't involve giving me any of your own!

happy new years :) feel free to send thots/ideas to my inbox for these babes (or even for the other 141 fellas)

series masterlist here.

PART THREE: hurts si’

“You dumb bitch, look what you did!” Glass clattered and a hand made contact with your face, causing something to drop from your hands as they flew to your face for protection, a whimper leaving your puckered lips as sharp shards scatter about the ground and imbed in the skin of your legs, stinging. “Are you fuckin’ dropping shit now? Huh?” Another blow, this one landing on your ear, causing it to ring and your eyes to blur for a moment as you wobbled on the balls of your feet, swaying from side to side. The man yelling at you was larger than you, older. His breath was hot and sour as he screamed in your face, his words sounding a million miles away as you tried to focus. What had you done this time? It wasn’t you that had knocked over the glass of water..you weren’t even near that side of the table..it was all your brother, all the boy who sat and watched as your father threatened to beat you black and blue again for something that you didn’t do.

The ringing becomes too much, you fall to your knees and groan, head pounding and eyesight blurry, you barely notice the shards of whatever dish had fallen from your hands pushing further into the skin of your shins as you sink to the rough wood floor of the kitchen.

“...OFF THE FUCKING FLOOR, OMEGA!” He screamed, your hearing seeming to come back around, or maybe he just bellowed loud enough to overpower the ringing..you shook violently, fear and pain ringing through your body as he grabbed you by the hair on your scalp, dragging you across the ground, pushing the sharp bits of glass deeper into your skin..you would have to go digging to get them out now..

“No!NO! Papa, Papa please!” Your voice was frantic, shrill eyes wide as they finally focused enough to comprehend where he was pulling you off to, the familiar dingey wooden door of your own personal hell hole coming into sight. You’d only just been allowed out after..you couldn’t even remember how long..long enough that the days blurred together and you couldn’t tell how many tomorrows had come and passed. “No! I’ll be good, i’ll be good!” You clawed at his arm above you, trying desperately to pry his alpha strength off of your head, kicking your legs in an effort to slow him down, to buy yourself enough time to talk him out of it.

“There’s no such thing as a good Omega, you’re living proof!” He growls, throwing open the deadbolt to the door before swinging it open. The darkness awaiting you seemed thicker than usual. “You all deserve to be punished! To be hid, to be locked away and never looked at again! You deserve to be treated like the runts and vermin you fucking are! Your mother tricked me into thinking that she was sweet and innocent, that she needed me to protect her, to fill her with little alpha pups, and then she gave me you! And then you killed her when you breathed life and stole hers, and i saw you for what you are, nothing but a conniving, evil monster!” He held your hair tightly at the top of the stairs, forcing you to look up into his eyes as he ranted at you, for something that you didn’t even remember. Weren’t capable of remembering..

He raised you off of your feet and your eyes widened, a shrill plea leaving your chest “NO, NO! N-AHHGH!”

Simon lay in bed, hands balled into fists behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling, the moon dancing across it as it shined through his window, jaw clenched as he listened to you whimper and moan through the thin wall separating your room from his. His senses were on high alert, his wolf haywire in his mind. It took every ounce of self control he had not to jerk off to the smell of you, once he started he knows he probably wouldn’t ever stop, not until he’d had the real thing and not just the thought of you. He knew that his cock was probably going to be perpetually hard now, never going to go down until he’d stuffed the meaty length of it into your sweet smelling cunt, not until he’d fucked it good and stuffed it full of his pups would he even be able to think like a normal alpha again.

The smell of you was intoxicating. It flooded his senses and over powered his mind. You were sweet smelling, decadent he could even say. He had noted it before you’d been in heat but now that you were, even in just the beginning stages, it was more powerful, more endearing and mouth watering. It was enough to make a man forget how to behave. It was enough to drive an Alpha into delirium, to trigger his own rut.

He grit his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to think about anything other than you, shoving a knife into someone's chest, pizza and a cheap pint, johnny- no! Not that scottish prick! His wolf howled and he grunted, fisting his own hair just to feel something to keep himself grounded. Johnny wouldn’t shut his trap, his intrusive thoughts and his lack of a thought process allowing him to just blurt out how good you smelled, he could just hear his voice in his head, could hear him “Bet that lit’le cunt is nie’ n warm, wet ‘n sloppy, eh LT? Smells like a fookin’ dream..” He was just shooting up in bed with a growl at imaginary Johnny when your scream pierced his ears, his bedroom door slammed against the wall, ricocheting as he busted through yours after flying down the hallway, practically ripping it off of its hinges. He looked around wildly, looking for any sign of an intruder, ready to fight off some stray Alpha or Beta that might have followed your pheromones from town in hopes of mating and breeding you against your will in the middle of the night.

He saw nobody, saw nothing but you thrashing wildly in the middle of the king sized bed you had built your nest upon, spotting the hoodie he’d shrugged off of his body and laid in the middle of your spot while you took a hot bath earlier in the day, satisfied that he could leave you alone with something to scent to help calm you down. He had paid enough attention in Omega anatomy class to remember that that was something that you guys craved, and just the scent of a strong Alpha could help ease the pain wrought by your heat. You were in pain, he decided, that was why you had screamed as you had, there was nothing for him to protect you from, nothing for him to keep you safe from in your vulnerable state.

He had just wrestled his wolf back from the forefront of his mind and was slowly backing away from your bed and back towards the hallway when you let loose another scream, this one was one of pure terror. You were sat straight up in bed, his fight or flight triggered, he throws himself at you, wrapping his arms around you as he throws you back down, tucking you into his body as he looses a mean growl, baring his teeth as he looked all about, trying to find what you were so terrified of.

“No!NO!” You screamed, thrashing and bucking under him, your eyes squeezed shut. He looks down at you, wolf going crazy. “Help her! HELP HER YOU BIG DUMB OAF CAN’T YOU SEE SHE’S SCARED?!” His wolf whimpered, howled, only making Simon’s heart race more as he tried to form a coherent thought.

“Rosie..” He grunted, patting your face lightly, still clutching you to his body as best as he could, legs on either side of you as he hovered over you on the bed. “Rosie, lovie, wake up-wake up, lovie..” He patted your face, again, a little harder this time and your eyes finally fluttered, looking up at him.

“S’mon?” You whispered, hands clutching the chest of his tank top from where your arms were trapped between the both of your bodies, unable to move with his weight pressed against yours. “Had a bad dream..”

He sighs, head leaning down so his forehead is touching yours, noses brushing against each other. “I know, lovie, i know.” He says after a moment, shifting his body so that you’re laying on top of him, using his chest and shoulders as a pillow, legs entwined with his own. All thoughts of breeding you gone and out the window for now, his only thought and instinct to keep you safe. “Not goin’ anywhere okay? Gonna stay right

‘ere an’ keep you safe..”

And he did, letting you doze back off on top of him, his mind still reeling as he tried to imagine exactly what had happened in that head of yours to make you scream with such terror, to have you so scared that he could feel your body shaking. He wanted, no he needed to know so that he could make sure you were never scared of it again. So he could take it and obliterate it for ever making you feel anything but safe under the same roof as him.

Eventually, his wolf and his mind calmed down and he was able to lull himself into a light sleep of his own, his arms not moving from around you.

You wake to a warmth spread from your head to your toes, a dampness to your skin that had you wriggling out of your sleep shirt with eyes closed still, not registering the soft body beneath you until you went to plop your head back down and it didn’t sink into the soft down of your pillow, but the scraggly hairs of a muscular, wide chest that was poking out of the top of a gray tank top, the kind a man would wear under his tshirt if he wanted the extra layers, or sleep in, you supposed. You knew immediately that it was Simon and as if on cue your wolf fought her way to to the front of your mind, your aching cunt clenching around nothing but your sopping panties as you realized that your mound wasn’t too far from where his cock would be, your leg thrown over his waist, held there by one of his large, meaty hands gripping your equally meaty thigh.

“Look at him, our pretty Alpha..so handsome, so strong..” She wasn’t wrong, he was pretty. His skull mask was nowhere to be found, and to say it was strange to not see it adorned on his face would be an understatement, but it wasn’t unwelcomed. “Want to give him pretty little pups, let him fill us, please, please, please! I’ll be so good! I promise!” You groan, trying to shut her voice out, though it was hard to do. At this stage, your mind belonged to her, this was her time, and you had always let it be, but you hadn’t had an Alpha home during your heat in..awhile.

You let your eyes roam over his face for a while, failing to notice the way his breathing changes as he fully wakes up, aware of your gaze. He has such a strong jaw, a strong, handsome face, sweet looking even, you would say, despite the scars lingering along his pale skin. Your lips quiver at the realization that someone had probably put them there and that thought alone made you want to cry because how could anyone ever want to hurt this perfect specimen of an alpha? His nose is terribly crooked, as if it had been broken on more than one occasion..you would know, yours had been broken at least three times that you remembered. You wanted to sit on it. To feel his nose brush against your aching, throbbing clit, to feel his scruff of a beard that had grown over night against the apex of your thighs, leaving beard burn as he fucks you with his wet, strong tongue.

You don’t notice that your hips are bucking against the side of his hard stomach, don’t realize you’ve whimpered until his hand squeezes your thigh, fingers marking the skin from the way that he grips at it, brown eyes suddenly shot open and staring you down, full lips tugged into a wicked smirk.

“Easy there, babygirl..” He grunts, voice thick and raspy after not having used it for a bit.

You pout at his words, wolf whimpering. The desperate noise leaves your throat and you feel no shame as your hips buck again, needing the friction.

“Hurts Si’..” You whimper, not giving a damn to ask why he was in your bed in the first place. You remembered having a nightmare, remembered him vaguely waking you from it. You assume he had stayed to make sure you were okay. “Need you..need you to help me, Simon..please?”

He closes his own eyes at your words, fingers digging further into the fat of your thigh, as if he’s trying to control himself. You don’t want him to, you want hm to lose control, to use you in any way he saw fit, you wouldn’t fight him, would be as pliable for him as you could possibly be, you just wanted to breathe in his scent, suck his cock into your aching pussy for a bit..like a chew toy for the wolf taking over your mind.

You can’t help but to giggle for a second at the thought, you couldn’t help but to think that his cock was probably big enough to pose as a chew toy anyway, no way you could get your mouth all the way around it if he let suck it.

“Rosi-”

“Simonnn” You preen, pouting at him and you can just feel the resolve break. Oh! What a good Alpha, not making us beg! “Please help me..hurts..need you so bad..please!”

A growl bubbles in his chest and you could how in excitement knowing you’ve won, “Fine!” Knowing he’s about to bully his cock into your cunt until he’s had his fill, until you’re crying and begging him for more, until he’s knocked you up good with one of his little blonde pups- “But i’m not going to fuck you,” A whine as you pout and you watch his eyes widen, watch him fight with himself for a second as he shakes his head, as if shutting up that voice that you know he hears too. “No-don’t do that babygirl..You listen to me now.” The sternness in his voice catches your attention, your cunt pulsing at the way it radiates through you. “I want to fuck you so bad, lovie, want to sit you on my cock for fuckin’ hours, believe me, it’s all ‘ve been able to think about since I walked into that garden..but I can’t do it when you’re not all the way there, when you’re delirious in heat..” A pout that damn near breaks him, that definitely breaks the wolf in his head, howling ricocheting in his ears as he tries to talk. “I’m going to fuck you, lovie, but not until your heat is done, yeah? Don’t worry babygirl, m’still gonna help you though, know it hurts, baby, know you need my help..”

You hadn’t realized he had bunched the waistband of your panties in his hand until then, letting go of your thigh to pull at the seam of the fabric, ripping it apart and tugging it from your mound. You watch with wide eyes as he brings the soaked cotton to his crooked nose, closing his eyes as he takes a long sniff, a deep growl radiating through the room as he opens his eyes, staring straight into yours as his fist clenches around your panties.

“Cm’ere, babygirl.” He grunts, pulling at you so that you’re sitting directly on his chest, pussy leaving a wet swatch in his chest hairs as he squeezes both hips. “Wanna sit on my face, don’t you? Saw the way you were looking at me, know just what you were thinkin’ huh?” You nod your head, but make no move to actually do it. You’re so big? What if you suffocate him? Bitch shut the fuck up and let him eat your fucking pussy, you whiney brat! He’s a big boy, he can fucking take it! You had the random thought that your wolf might actually try and kill you if you didn’t let her enjoy this, if you didn’t swallow your self conscious thoughts and let this glorious man eat you for breakfast. “Aht-aht, stop thinking whatever it is you’re thinking-” He pulls your hips so you’re sitting just below his neck now, your hands immediately catching yourself on the headboard, preventing him from pulling you up past his chin. He narrows his eyes at you, you see him shake his head, the firm line his plus lips are set in. A warning to behave and let him be in control. “Don’t-you want this, don’t you..want me to help you? Need me to make it better?”

“Pleas-ungh” In a show of pure strength, he has you fully sat on his face before you can finish the word, warm, thick tongue devouring you as swirls it around your clit, you can’t help the rock of your hips or the way your head throws back as you moan when his tongue teases your aching whole, nose rubbing against your clit the way you imagined it when you tilted your hips.

He groans beneath you, hands splayed on your bare ass cheeks, holding you in place as he grips so hard you’re sure his fingerprints will be permanently indented into your skin, not that you think you’d really mind it. “That’s it lovie, ride my face..”

You didn’t have to be told twice now that you had started. The way his tongue worked you open, the way he held you in place but still let you rut your hips against his face, making a slimy, glistening mess..his stubble brushed against your inner thighs, keeping you grounded from coming on the spot, though it doesn’t last for long. He’s got you coming within moments, skilled tongue going between clit and your pulsing hole, giving you what you needed as you rocked back and forth, taking what you wanted. “Tha’s a good girl, lovie..give me one more?”

You’re not sure how many ‘one more’s’ you give him, but by the time he’s got you on the brink of over stimulation, he’s got his whole tongue buried in your hole, his teeth nibbling at your clit as you buck and tremble, tears brimming your eyes as you grip his hair in each hand, tugging harshly. His hands pushed up your shirt, exposing your soft, pudgy belly to him as he squeezed your tits in each of his large palms, fingers playing with your nipples as he fucks you with his mouth, cries and whimpers leaving your own.

“Si-oh-mm, please! I can-so good, feel’s so good!” You’re a babbling mess, cheeks red as your thighs shake, still clenched around his head. He’s been at it for almost an hour and you swear he’s barely come up from air, he’s barely let you move off of his face for more than a moment, his mouth leaving your cunt only to praise you or bite into meat of your thighs, leaving a harsh imprint of his mouth, a reminder that this is in fact real. You’re on the brink of another when you realize that this one feels different, feels almost painful, even. “Si-mo-n, si-ugh-umf..hur-urts…” You screech out, swatting at the top of his head, he only grunts, pulling you down farther onto his mouth, his hands going back to grip your tighs, leaving your precious tits unattended as he does, holding you there as he brings another harsh bite to your clit, sending you over the edge. “Simon!” You shout, vision going blurry as something snaps in your lower belly, a gush of fluid coming from your cunt that has your cheeks heating as Simon groans out below you, lapping it up as quickly as it comes out, slurping even as he continues to make out with your pussy as you slouch against the headboard, being sure to avoid your overly sensitive clit as he does, leaving open mouthed kisses to your mound that honestly could have had you coming again if you weren’t entirely fucked out just from his mouth. How many was that? Five? Six?

“You okay up there babygirl?” His voice is thick and raspy, sexy as he peeks up at you from between your still shaking legs. All you can do is nod meekly, unsure of what to say, mind oddly quiet as you pant out breaths, trying to come down from such an epic high. “Squirted al’over me lovie, legs are still shakin’” He’s chuckling at you, big warm hands rubbing your thighs in an effort to soothe the shaking.

“M’sleepy, si’” You whimper out, still sagged against the headboard, mind gone numb, legs gone soft, heat and wolf satiated for the time being.

“Yeah?” He asks, voice soft as he sits up slowly, sliding you down his body. Your clit catches on his chest hairs and the fabric of his now soaked tank top on the way down and your hips jumps, your whimper ringing out as he shushes you, rubbing soothing circles on your lower back. “Need’ta nap baby?”

Your eyes are already closing before you can get the words out, before you can even nod your head, you barely register the way his lips kiss the side of your head as he leans back with you in his arms, the way his scent floods your senses, easing you into an easy slumber, as if that had been his plan all along. The last thing you remember before sleep takes you completely is wondering what the hell you had gotten yourself into with him..

taglist: @wise-owl @bingoz @astrxsee @gazsluckyhat @howlerwolfmax @thisbitch-6 @littlelovebug98 @ungodlydilf @madsothree

#kara writes #cod #simon riley #alpha simon riley #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley smut #alpha simon riley smut #task force 141 #tf141 #alpha cod #john soap mactavish

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moonchildstyles · 7 months ago

Note

rosemary for halloween?👀

wordcount: 4k+

—————

Harry frowned at his reflection.

While he loved (Y/N) more than anything, and would do anything for her, he wondered if he finally found limitations to that philosophy.

Because dressing up like a sailor just to match with her for a Halloween party was beginning to look like the line he needed to draw in the sand. The ascot was bad enough, he doubted the hat that was looming on the bed behind him was going to make this outfit any better.

The familiar sound of perfume being sprayed from the bathroom told Harry he didn't have much time left to fiddle with his costume before (Y/N) would appear to fawn over him and make him change his mind. In an impulse move, he attempted to tug off the ascot around his neck and hide it away in a pocket she could see.

All hope was lost just as (Y/N) emerged from the bathroom in a plume of sparkles and sea salt. Her hair was styled full of pearls and glimmering sea glass clips, matching the shifting blue and purple iridescent glitter spread across her eyelids. There weren't many places on her body that weren't imbued with a sparkling sheen, giving the effect of shimmering mermaid skin. Her top was little more than a decorated bralette cinched in a thick band around her ribs, emulating a pair of scallop shells studded with pearls and shards of sea glass. Her high waisted bottoms were a tight fit around her hips and thighs before fanning out after her knees, mimicking that of a mermaid's tail. The material was a swirl of pearly threads, shifting with pinks and purples, teals and bioluminescent greens. Her bag for the night—the purchase that inspired the costume—was a golden seashell.

Harry, distracted by the sight of the swathes of skin she had on display—a strip of her soft stomach, the slope of her neck and sparkling décolletage, her pretty, manicured hands—didn't catch the way her entire face lit up when she saw him.

"You look so cute, honey!" she bubbled, rushing towards him with her hands reaching out towards his collar.

(Y/N) preened over him, a bright smile on her glossy lips. The ascot he attempted to rip off was smoothed down, his shirt straightened, and the epaulettes on his shoulders patted down.

He wanted so badly to keep up the attitude he gained while looking in the mirror, but not a shred of it remained when she smiled at him like that.

"Y'like it?" he murmured, his own lips creeping into a short curl.

"I love it!" She beamed up at him with her hands going stationary on the planes of his chest. "I know you weren't sure about it, but I'm so happy we match. Thank you."

Moving on instinct, he lent down and pressed his lips to hers, uncaring about the glitter that would no doubt transfer to his own skin.

"'M happy we match too," he smiled against her skin, the tip of his nose knocking against her own, "I don't think anyone's going to be looking at me, anyway. Not when 'm standing next to you."

Her grin turned giddy, only widening when Harry encouraged her to twirl before him. "Do you like it?! I think I put on too much body glitter, but I can't go back now."

He shook his head. "'S perfect. Look like a real mermaid. Y'would have lured me right to the sea, no doubt."

She keened under his attention, canting her head with a flutter of her lashes. "I couldn't do that, though—I wouldn't want to hurt you."

"I'd learn how to breathe underwater, then," he answered simply. He would find any solution if it meant he could be with her.

Her answering laugh was enough to have him eager to wear any and every silly costume she wanted. This reaction was always going to be worth wearing an ascot and sailor's cap.

"You're sweet, H," she crooned, surging to her tiptoes to share another kiss. He chased after her when she pulled away, drawing one more kiss from her before she made a step away towards her closet. "Are you ready to go?"

Harry answered with a nod, hoping she didn't notice the hat missing from the top of his head.

"Perfect!" she chirped, "I need to put my shoes on, and then we can go!"

Just short of breathing a sigh of relief, Harry figured himself to be in the clear by the time she slinked into her closet.

Until, of course, she called out to him. "Oh, and don't forget your hat!"

He wanted so badly to frown, to groan and tell her he didn't want to wear the hat. But none of that came out. Only a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

There was a time in his life that he never thought he would have anyone that would want to spend these kinds of nights with him, let alone in a planned out matching outfit. Even if it felt a bit silly, there wasn't a single bone in his body that was going to say no to something like this.

"I won't, peach."

—————

Despite the sweat beginning to slick his palm, Harry didn't pull his hand out from (Y/N)'s.

While he was growing more used to the idea of large and loud crowds of people—especially crowds that knew him and made a point to say hello when he walked by—but there was still much more progress to be made in that department. Sabrina's Halloween party was one of his bigger trials, that was for sure. (Y/N) was his only anchor, her hold on his hand being the only thing that kept him from running through an obsessive cycle of spying all exits and attempting to scan each face around him for anyone suspicious.

Though, tonight, it was a bit hard to see from scanning the room, if only to get a view of all of the costumes and decorations around them. Sabrina's annual halloween party was something Harry had only recently learned about, but (Y/N)'s excited descriptions made the space as familiar to him as his own. As she promised, faux cobwebs were stretched across walls and stuffed in corners. Streamers and metallic fringe hung from doorways, the visages of classic horror tropes were scattered on the walls, including decals of blood spatters that Harry made a point not to look at for too long. Everything was orange and purple, black all throughout. Music played throughout the space, though it was decidedly softer than most of his experiences when it came to house parties.

Harry saw many familiar faces among the party goers, though more often than not they were disguised in costumes and altering makeup. There were plenty of Barbies, and angels, a few fairies and sexy iterations of mundane professions all throughout, being broken up by even more silly costumes. Video game and movie characters stuck out in iconic silhouettes. Many couples and friends were in matching costumes like the one he was in (though there weren't any other mermaids and sailors as far as he could see). More than a few lent into the season with spooky costumes, fake blood and weapons at their sides. Those were not Harry's favorite.

Especially not when he felt a little flush when he saw the liberal use of blood on some costumes.

There was no way Harry was going to be peeling himself away from (Y/N)'s side. Even if he was beginning to feel a little like a potted plant while he listened to her converse with her friends.

"But, you don't mind, right, H?"

Blinking back to earth, Harry saw (Y/N) looking up at him with an affectionate smile and a familiar face from his days of sitting in at the bakery looking at him expectantly. His mouth fell into a gape as he attempted to find the answer to a question he wasn't listening to.

"Um," he started, wetting his lips with the tip of his tongue, "Sorry, what?"

(Y/N) didn't look all that surprised to realize he hadn't been paying much attention to the conversation. "You like the costumes, right?"

"Oh, yeah." He automatically nodded, looking at (Y/N)'s friend. "They were her idea."

A laugh bubbled from the woman, a joke Harry hadn't heard before now coming into play. (Y/N)'s hand pulsed around his own, her smile bright as she gazed up at him.

"Next year, I'll have to see if he'll be the mermaid," (Y/N) laughed, her nose scrunching while her friend joined in.

In the back of his mind, Harry was sure he should have tuned back in when the chattering started up once more, but he just couldn't. Was there ever going to be a time when he wasn't completely enamored, just short of being brought to his knees, when she muttered something so innocent like plans for the future? Was that ever not going to steal his breath? The idea of having a future and stability and someone for the rest of his life?

(At least, he hoped (Y/N) would be with him for the rest of his life. He'd just have to scrounge up the courage to ask her one day).

Soon enough, (Y/N)'s friend bid a short goodbye, promising to see them around the party, before they were left to meander around.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom to look at my makeup, if you want to come," she said, looking up at him with a soft smile, "Unless you want to go get a drink or something."

He didn't have to think before he was shaking his head. "I'll go with you."

(Y/N) turned with that pretty smile on her face as she led him through the partygoers, taking a seemingly familiar route towards the restroom. Sabrina and others spotted (Y/N) as they passed, saying hello with glassy eyes and praising her costume in slurred comments. Every slowed step while she engaged in the short conversation, she never left him out, immediately pointing out that they went together.

Harry was sure a flush was beginning to creep up his neck by the time the third person stopped them.

Lucky for them, by the time they successfully reached the restroom, it was empty. Slipping inside, Harry shut the door behind them. It was a small bathroom, leaving little room between them while (Y/N) turned towards the mirror.

In the quiet of the restroom, Harry felt his lungs finally expand to capacity. It wasn't hard being at (Y/N)'s side while she was a social butterfly, but it was exhausting trying to remind himself everything was okay when there were so many people around them. He'd learn one day; his body would catch up one day. That's what (Y/N) told him, anyway.

"You doing okay?" she asked, catching his eye in the mirror while she scraped a rogue glitter away from the corner of her eye.

"Yeah," he muttered, nodding his head. "Jus'... a lot still, I think."

"I know. We don't have to stay too much longer, though. I just want to hang out with Sabrina a little bit, and then we'll be free."

"'S okay," he shook his head, his fingers a knot behind his back, "We don't have to leave until y'want. I'll be fine."

Abandoning the reflection, (Y/N) turned towards Harry with a cant to her head. Her features were made of soft lines and affectionate eyes. "It's no fun if you're not having a good time, H."

"I am, I am," he insisted, even if the deep breath he took in wasn't all that convincing. "Halloween is fun."

At this, she couldn't help but to let out a bubbling laugh. "Is it?" she teased, crossing the short space between them to wrap his middle in her arms. His body moved on instinct, draping his arms around her shoulders. "If you have to say it like that, I have a feeling it's not really true."

He could feel his expression loosening as he gazed down at her. If this were another life, and he were a sailor out on the sea, it would only take a glimpse of her between the waves to have him swimming out into the unknown. Though that was what he figured his real life was like anyway; she was the lighthouse that guided him to a new shore, away from everything he knew before. Now, here he was, at someone's home on Halloween night in a sailor's costume. And he wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

"I jus' like being with you, peach," he admitted, "If you're happy, so am I."

"You're gonna make me cry," she laughed, eyes shimmering like her eyeshadow, "I really do want to go home soon, though. This outfit isn't as comfortable as I want it to be."

A pinch appeared between his brows. He knew the corset-like fit of her top was what she wanted, but he'd worried about how well she was going to be able to breathe. "Are you okay?" he asked, his hands beginning to frantically trace around her form.

"I'm okay, honey," she assured, leaning up to press a soft kiss to the point of his chin, "I think I'm just ready for some pajamas."

He could work with that. He could make sure they were safe and comfortable at home soon; if he was fast enough, he might even be able to throw her pj's into the dryer while she takes off her makeup, leaving them warm for her once she was ready.

"'M ready whenever y'are, peach."

This time, when she raised to the tips of her toes, she met his lips with her own. It was a short kiss, hidden away from the rest of the world, but still more than enough to draw his heart into pounding against his ribs.

This kiss was urging him to take back his earlier words. He should have told her he wanted to head home immediately.

—————

"Oh my god, did you put these in the dryer?"

Harry couldn't contain the smile stretching across his face when he heard (Y/N)'s shout from her bedroom. He didn't respond when he heard feet padding across the floor, coming right towards where he was tucked into the cushions of her sofa.

Still with her mermaid hair and makeup on, she now had on a light purple crewneck and teal blue sweats. She wanted to stay within the spirit of her costume for when children would inevitably knock on the door for candy, but Harry could see she was much more comfortable in her new clothes.

"Harry," she crooned, looking to him with softened features. Warm, pumpkin lighting filled her home, candlelight flickering over the glitter pasted to her skin.

"(Y/N)," he said, parroting her affectionate tone.

"You're so sweet, honey. Thank you." She crawled atop his lap as she spoke, fitting her knees on either side of his hips.

He moved instinctively, his hands landing on her waist while she looped her own around his neck. Looking up at her, Harry let a smile bloom over his lips, a warmth bubbling under his skin.

"Do y'feel better?" he asked, running his hands over the curve of her waist, "More comfortable?"

"Much," she affirmed, pursing her lips to dot a kiss on the bridge of his nose. The sparkle in her eyes rivaled that of the flecks sticking to her skin when she pulled away. "Thank you for coming with me tonight. It was more hectic than I thought, but it means a lot that you came anyway."

Harry's smile turned shy at her praise. It was still a very hard thing to hear these kinds of sentiments directed to him. The honey of (Y/N)'s voice made it just a touch easier to take, at least.

"I know 'm not very fun at these things, so thank you for staying with me." Shifting to bar his arms around her middle, Harry pulled her into a hug as he perched his cheek on her shoulder, nose skimming the column of her neck.

(Y/N) slid her fingers into the curling locks on the back of his head, threading through the waves in comforting trails. "It'll get easier, H. You're already doing so much better than you think."

A flickering silence settled over the room. "Thank you," he murmured into her neck, "I want to keep getting better. With you."

In that moment, Harry was brought back to a motel room. He was sitting on a much stiffer, mustier sofa with darker thoughts clouding his brain. But he still had (Y/N) in his arms, reassuring him that he could—and would—get better. That she was right there with him, would be right there as long as he needed her.

He held her tighter at the memory.

She didn't make any move to pull away, letting Harry get his fill of her before eventually peeling away to gaze up at her.

"You're still alright with me spending the night?" Despite posing the question, he didn't think he would have an easy time getting out of this spot even if she said no.

"Of course—who else is going to protect me on Halloween night?"

She spoke with a teasing smile, canting her head with a slight pout puffing her lips. This was one of those moments he had to remind himself that he wasn't occupying his previous life—this was nothing more than a joke, something flirty that (Y/N) said to draw an affectionate reaction out of him. There was nothing real, nothing coming to get her in the middle of the night.

A short smile touched the corners of his mouth. "I think I can manage that, peach."

She must have sensed the brief hesitation, causing her to push a soft kiss to the curled corner of his mouth.

"If you start some popcorn, I’ll pick a movie for us?" she offered.

He responded with a quiet nod, pulsing his hands on her waist before she climbed off of him. He left her on the couch as he started towards her kitchen, the ghost of her warmth clinging to his front. Keeping an ear out, he rooted through her cabinets in search of a packet of popcorn—a snack she seemingly always had on hand, though he hadn't caught her indulging in the kernels more than once in the last months.

A ring of the doorbell succeeded by muffled giggles had Harry's muscles bunching for a split second. It's Halloween, he reminded himself. Of course there were going to be people at the door, and (Y/N) wasn't going to hesitate with swinging it open.

Old habits die hard, even the ones that were already in the process of being buried.

Hurriedly shoving the packet into the microwave with numbers punched into the pad, Harry moved across the kitchen. Peeking around the threshold, he had a clear view of (Y/N) with a large bowl in one hand as she answered the door.

The giggling grew louder as she pulled open the door. From the angle she was standing before the threshold, he had a view of her smiling profile as she took in the little critters at her stoop. The children, flanked by parents standing a few feet away, all smiled brightly up at the mermaid before them.

"Trick or treat!"

"Wow, look at you guys!" (Y/N) cheered, balancing the candy bowl on her hip, "You look amazing! Such cute costumes!"

"I'm not cute, I'm a zombie," one of the children contradicted, a lisp in his voice.

(Y/N)'s smile only grew wider, before she fell into a shocked character. "Woah, you are really scary. I don't have any brains, will candy do?"

Harry was vaguely aware of the way the children cheered for her, the giggles and smiles filling the doorway as she handed out bundles of candy, but he only had eyes on the mermaid.

He doubted she even knew just how fearless she was. More than once, he'd heard her describe herself as shy, boring even. Never doing anything new, sticking to her routine. She had no idea what kind of effort Harry would have had to exert to do this simple task she did so easily.

She had no idea just how special she was in the most mundane ways. He would never run out of things to admire about her. He was sure.

Waving goodbye to the children and their parents, (Y/N) shut and locked the door behind her. It was then that she caught eyes right on her.

"They were cute, don't you think?" she chattered, unwitting of the fact that he could barely recount any of the details of any of the trick-or-treaters or their costumes.

"Yeah," he agreed anyway, a dreamy haze smoked around his voice, "Really cute."

Before she could offer a response, the microwave beeped. The fragrance of buttery popcorn scented through her home, drawing him away from the entryway. He made quick work of emptying the packet into a pastel pink bowl, rushing to head back to her side out on the sofa.

Curled up, legs under her bottom with a pumpkin-printed throw blanket across her lap, (Y/N) flicked through her chosen streaming service on her television. It wasn't until he was seated at her side, his peach lifting up the edge of the blanket to allow him to slide in next to her, that he saw what she was looking for.

True to the season, he was looking through a section of Halloween movies. Though, not quite the kind he was sure was playing in many other houses in the neighborhood.

"I know it's not really scary, but I was thinking Scooby-Doo might be fun to watch tonight," she muttered, looking through the various classic movies available for streaming. One Harry remembered watching as a child caught his eye.

Definitely a better option than the home invasion or slasher films he never really found the appeal of.

He moved to overlap her legs over his thighs, spreading her warmth across the side of his body. "That sounds better than anything scary."

Moving to pick through the popcorn bowl settled on his lap, Harry saw from the corner of his eye the way (Y/N) turned her attention to him.

Her eyes were impossibly soft, tracing over the planes of his face. She canted her head as she looked at him, just enough so that the light caught the glitter on her face. He wasn't sure what she saw when she looked at him like that, but whatever it was enough to draw her closer to his side.

"H—"

Before she could finish whatever it was that she was going to share, the doorbell rang. She hesitated before removing the blanket from her lap.

"I'll be right back," she murmured, "You pick.

A soft kiss was pressed to his cheek, just where his dimple devoted his skin.

Remote in hand, Harry absently scrolled through the title cards though he was listening instead to the giggling conversation happening at the door.

The sound of her voice soundtracked the beats of his heart. He heard the way she bubbled to these children, playing along to whatever tricks they pulled for the treats in question. He could still feel the press of her lips against his cheek, the warmth a point of clarity as he sunk into the amber-tinted moment that was his own life. Never would he have thought he would ever find himself in a place like this.

"I'm already starting to run out of candy," (Y/N) exclaimed as she made her way back to the couch, "I'm probably giving out too much, but I feel bad if I don't give out, like, handfuls."

(Y/N) slid back into her spot, as natural as breathing. Entirely fearless, always.

"You're so sweet, peach," he breathed, much too heavy an answer for something so simple.

Though it was entirely worth the smile she gifted him.

Harry wasn't sure if he was ever going to be a huge fan of Halloween, but he could see why others enjoyed it. Especially if these breezy nights went on like this.

—————

happy (late) halloween everyone! thank u sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and if you have any fun ideas or requests of your own, please send them in!!

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etherealrin · 5 months ago

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๋࣭ ⭑ four letters.

there is only one thing in the world that can terrify the emperor known as michael kaiser. it contains four letters. it’s a word, an idea, a symbol—some might even call it the crux of humanity. yet kaiser tries to scoff and dismiss it when it becomes inevitably mentioned; no, it wasn’t real, it was just a product of fairy tales. ironically, it’s also the one thing he yearns for above all else, placed before his ambition towards football. perhaps it’s because he’s lived so long devoid of it. he doesn’t know what form it should take, what it should feel like, nor where it might come from.

kaiser’s aware that there’s something missing at his core, something stolen from him so many years ago that he doubts if he ever had it to begin with. but when he thinks about those four letters, which he knows is the answer, all he’s met with is an icy chill. it’s the cold gusts of wind which blew through the cracks the walls that haunted his nights spent in hell on earth. it’s the numbness of his limbs and heart after being beat again and again for a crime he never committed. it’s the emptiness of a house he had never considered his home, lifeless although two people lived in it. it’s the sharp sting of broken glass shards littered on the dusty floor, which cut at his feet as he walked shakily towards the front door, leaving but never able to escape. it’s the sleepless nights that a younger kaiser had spent tossing and turning, staring into the dark sky, vowing to himself that the day michael kaiser became a human, he would find those four letters.

beneath the cocky facade and confidence, kaiser is frozen petrified. he’s scared what he’s chasing after is his blue rose; something that doesn’t exist naturally, something impossible for him to obtain. despite standing for making the unimaginable a reality, kaiser isn’t so sure about this one. he’s been conditioned to believe he wasn’t worthy, that he was a consequence, since the day he was born. more than anything, kaiser’s scared that his shitty excuse for a father was right—that no one would ever truly love him.

love; the greatest curse. something that kaiser had only dreamed of. he needs as much as he fears it.

so it’s music to his ears: a whole damn symphony, and so much more than pure ecstasy when those four letters tumble out of your lips. it’s only your warmth that can melt away his frost; it’s only you who can see and love him for everything and nothing. those four letters, once an idea incomprehensible to him, weren’t horrifying anymore. they stop feeling frigid, stop invoking memories he wishes he could erase. when kaiser thinks about the four letters spelling “l-o-v-e” now, he doesn’t see the scared little boy staining a soccer ball with his endless tears; he sees the boy that you love, one that’s braved through every trial and hardship possible, one that turned dreams into reality.

a/n: word vomit again who else cheered! kaiser backstory actually makes more than a few tears fall from my eyes icl…came to me at 12 am i really should have gone to sleep

masterlist.

#he just needs a hug #ness doesn’t count sorry #male manipulator core but its okay because kaiser bbg #kaiser x reader #michael kaiser #kaiser blue lock #blue lock #kaiser x you #blue lock michael kaiser #blue lock angst #michael kaiser x reader #blue lock x you #bllk x reader #bllk x you #blue lock x reader #想 ; tiff thinks too much #王 ; kaiser x reader

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zaczenemiji · 1 year ago

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hiii! req for kenji like imagine reader and ken are dating but he hasnt been able to talk to her alot since of raisng emi and ultraman, so after emi is gone what if he treats her to a little picnic date telling her about what happened and how sorry he is for kinda leaving her out in the blue

From LA, with Love

Kenji Sato x Reader

Word Count: 2,656

Genre/Warnings: Long-Distance Relationship

Author's Note: My longest one so far; sometimes I write without brakes 😩

MASTERLIST

"Breaking news from Tokyo: A baseball game at the Tokyo Dome was disrupted tonight by the sudden appearance of a kaiju. Spectators were evacuated, and the city is currently under high alert."

Your heart pounded as the screen switched to footage of the chaos. The camera panned over terrified spectators fleeing the stadium and a massive kaiju rampaging through the city streets.

At the corner of the footage, you spotted familiar landmarks in the background and felt a knot tighten in your stomach. Those looked like the pictures Kenji sent you for updates.

The newscaster continued, "Among the players was rising baseball star Kenji Sato—“

The sound of glass breaking was heard at the mention of his name. Your tea now spilled on the floor, shards of broken glass around it.

Your breath got caught in your throat. Your boyfriend was there, in the middle of the chaos and there was nothing you could do. You were literally 5,000 miles away on the other side of the planet.

You knew you should’ve listened to your gut when it told you to come with Kenji to Japan. If something bad happens to him tonight, you wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself especially when there was something you could’ve done.

Quickly, you grabbed your phone, trying to call him, but the call went straight to voicemail. Panic surged through you, but you tried to remain as calm as you could.

The news feed cut to shaky footage that showed Kenji at bat with the crowd cheering, but suddenly, screams filled the air as the kaiju appeared overhead. The camera focused on Kenji, his face a mix of determination and fear before he disappeared from view in the ensuing chaos.

That was all the media said that night. It’s not like LA News would take an extra mile for Kenji; so you desperately searched for more information. Unfortunately, updates were sparse.

It was currently 3 AM in LA and your mind raced with worry. Was he safe? Why hadn't he called you?

You didn’t stop looking for information. You’ve checked the whole internet, called hotlines you thought could give you an update, and stayed up til sunrise.

Suddenly, your phone beeped and you have never been this fast on grabbing it. It was a text message from Kenji, "I'm okay. Can't talk now. Please don't worry. I love you.”

You held your phone close to your chest, a temporary relief washing over. You clung to those words but uncertainty still gnawed in you. You had so many questions and no answers.

Little did you know, Kenji was not just caught in the chaos; he was fighting it as Ultraman, a secret he was yet to reveal. The only reason he told you he was going back to Japan was that he wanted to play for the Giants, his favorite team as a child.

It was a random day that he told you he wanted to go back to Japan, and immediately at that. At first, you were hurt, thinking about how it seemed so easy to leave you in LA when you had loose ends you needed to tie first.

Your job demanded your attention. You were in the middle of wrapping up a significant project that required your presence. Your boss was understanding but insisted you complete the handover to your replacement to ensure a smooth transition.

Then your apartment lease was coming to an end. You needed to sort through your belongings, decide what to keep, sell, or store, and handle the logistics of moving out. This was time-consuming, and you had to coordinate with movers and real estate agents.

Lastly, your family. You were born here in LA and only went out of the country for vacations. But with how Kenji decided to stay in Japan for good, you wanted to follow. You couldn't leave without ensuring your parents and siblings were taken care of and comfortable.

Communication with Kenji became difficult in the weeks that followed after the Tokyo Dome incident.

It was a late evening in LA and an afternoon in Japan. You sat by your laptop, staring at the screen, waiting for Kenji's call. The clock ticked past the scheduled time, and your heart sank with each passing minute.

Finally, your phone buzzed with a message, "I'm so sorry, I can't make the call today. Something urgent came up. I'll explain later."

You sighed, typing back a quick reply, "I understand. Stay safe. I miss you." But he never got a chance to explain anything.

Recently, some things urgent have always arisen around Kenji. It wasn't the first time a call had been missed, and you knew it wouldn't be the last.

You were left with nothing but to watch his games and interviews on TV. However, he didn’t seem like himself in all of them. LA’s pride, the Kenji Sato, seemed like a rookie in the Japanese stadium.

His games were all chaotic with some of them ending in fist fights. When the camera focuses on him, you see nothing but an exhausted man. You never saw him like that before which made you worry what the heck is going on over there.

You clearly had no idea, at all, about what was happening to him. The last time you had a call, the connection was poor, and his voice kept cutting out.

"...so much going on here... trying… keep everyone safe..."

"Kenji, I can barely hear you. Can you repeat that?"

“...wish I could talk longer... love you...”

The call dropped before she could respond, leaving her staring at the screen, feeling more alone than ever.

All of these: being kept in the dark, zero communication, and the constant worry were making you rush the things you needed to wrap up before heading to Japan.

There was a time, you told him that you were thinking of coming to Japan first to help him with whatever he was going through, and just be back to LA afterward to take care of the things you left.

But it’s complicated, he said, with things happening that could put you in danger—more than the kaiju attacks, and that it’s better to stay in LA for now. You knew there was something he wasn’t telling you and it scared you.

Kenji promised to explain everything when the time was right. He told him he loves you more than anything and that he’s doing this to protect you.

You didn’t understand anything but you trusted him, waited for him, and been patient with him.

Soon after, it started to seem like things were getting better for Kenji. The Giants were now back on their track and Kenji was back to his usual self, if not better. Communication has been re-established and not a day went by that he didn’t call you.

Before you knew it, the last of your loose ends had been tied and you were finally ready to fly to Japan. You received a message from Kenji, “Things are calmer now. I miss you. Can't wait to see you."

Your heart ached with longing. You had worked tirelessly to clear your schedule and now was finally the moment. You had your flight booked, bags packed, and said goodbye to friends and family.

At the airport, you paused before boarding, sending one last message to Kenji, "On my way. See you soon."

As the plane took off, you stared out the window, the city lights of Los Angeles fading into the distance. The hardest part was over. You were finally on your way to Japan to finally understand everything that had kept you apart, and to be there for Kenji in ways you couldn't before.

The bustling Tokyo airport was filled with the sounds of announcements, the rolling of luggage, and the chatter of travelers. Kenji stood near the arrival gate, his heart racing with anticipation.

He clutched a bouquet of your favorite flowers, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. After months of limited communication and the constant weight of his responsibilities as Ultraman, he was finally going to see you.

He scanned the crowd, searching for your familiar face among the sea of strangers. His phone buzzed with a message, and he quickly checked it, “Just landed. Can't wait to see you."

Kenji's heart skipped a beat. Moments later, he spotted you emerging from the gate, eyes darting around, searching for him. Your eyes met, and you broke into a wide smile, your pace quickening as you rushed toward him.

He closed the distance, pulling you into a tight embrace as soon as you reached him. The bouquet was momentarily forgotten, dropped to the floor as he held you close, feeling the warmth and reality of your presence.

"I've missed you so much," you whispered, voice trembling with emotion.

"I've missed you too," Kenji replied, his voice thick with relief and love. "I'm so glad you're here."

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him with a mixture of happiness and concern, "What's been going on?"

Kenji sighed, feeling the weight of the past few months. "There's so much to tell you,” he replied. “But let's get out of here first. I want to take you somewhere we can talk."

He picked up the forgotten bouquet, handing it to you with a sheepish smile, "These are for you."

You took the flowers, your smile widening, “Thank you, Kenji. They're beautiful."

All exhaustion from your 11-hour flight was wiped away at this moment. You were thankful for the naps you took on the plane because you didn’t want to pass out at the moment of your reunion.

The two of you then made your way out of the airport, the chaos and noise gradually fading as you stepped into the relative calm of the parking lot. Kenji led you to his car, loading your luggage into the trunk before opening the passenger door for you.

As Kenji drove through the city, you took in the sights. You’ve never been to Japan before, your excitement mingled with curiosity. "So, where are we going?" You asked.

Kenji glanced at you, a small smile playing on his lips. "I thought we'd go to a park nearby,” he answered. “It's a quiet place where we can sit and talk."

You nodded, reaching out to squeeze his hand. "I've been so worried about you,” you said. “I can't wait to hear everything."

You arrived at the park just as the sun was beginning to set, casting a warm golden glow over the landscape. Kenji found a secluded spot under a large oak tree, spreading out a blanket and setting up the picnic he had prepared.

You sat down together, the peaceful surroundings providing a stark contrast to the turmoil of recent months. Kenji took your hands in his, looking into your eyes.

"I'm sorry for everything," he began. "For not telling you sooner, for the missed calls and the worry. There's something I need to explain."

You looked at him with eyes full of concern and love. "I'm here now, Kenji,” you said. “Whatever it is, we'll get through it together."

He took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. "A lot has happened since we last saw each other” he started. “I've been dealing with something big, something I couldn't tell you about over the phone."

You watched him intently, grip tightening on his hands, “What is it?"

Kenji sighed, feeling the weight of his secret pressing down on him. "You remember the day of the game when Gigantron attacked?” He asked. “That wasn't the first time something like that happened. And I've been involved in every one of those incidents."

Your eyes widened in shock, but you didn't interrupt, letting him continue. "I'm Ultraman," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I've been fighting kaijus to protect the city. And recently, I found myself responsible for raising a baby kaiju who needed my help” he continued. “I couldn’t risk telling anyone, and I didn't know how to tell you."

You sat in stunned silence for a moment, processing everything. "You've been fighting monsters and raising a kaiju baby?” You asked. “Why didn't you tell me? I could have helped."

"I didn't want to drag you into the danger," he said, his voice filled with regret. "But I realize now that keeping you in the dark only made things worse. I'm so sorry for shutting you out."

You looked at him, your eyes softening. "I wish you had told me sooner, but I understand why you didn't,” you replied. “I just want to be there for you, Kenji. We’ll face anything together."

Kenji felt a wave of relief wash over him. "Thank you for understanding,” he said. “I promise, no more secrets and I don’t want to be far away from you anymore."

You held your arms out and gestured for him to hug you. He rested his head on your chest, his safe place. Oh, how he longed for it in the last months when he needed it most.

You could feel his tensed muscles relax at your touch. You peppered his forehead with kisses as you ran your hand lovingly across his hair.

He craved your touches the most and now that he’s in between your arms, it felt as if a heavy weight was taken off his shoulders.

He had so much more to tell but he decided that they were stories for the coming days. There’s no need to rush; after all, you’re here now.

Getting back to his agenda for today, Kenji slowly leaned back. "I hope you're hungry," he said with a grin, placing a small bouquet of wildflowers in the center of the blanket.

On the blanket were an assortment of your favorite foods: sushi, fresh fruit, and homemade mochi. You looked at the spread with delight. "This looks amazing, Kenji,” you said. “You've really outdone yourself."

"I wanted it to be special," he replied. "You deserve the best."

The two of you began to eat, savoring the food and each other's company. Kenji watched you with a soft smile as you tried a piece of sushi. "I remember you loved this one," he said, pointing to a beautifully crafted roll.

Your cheeks slightly flushed from happiness, "This is why I love you!"

As you ate, Kenji told you about the peaceful moments he found in the chaos. He would ask Mina to flash pictures of the two of you together and it would instantly calm him. Even Emi was calmed by it.

You sat in front of Kenji, back pressed against his chest and you between his legs. You held the box of sushis in your hand. From time to time, you’d turn slightly to look up and feed him.

At times, he’d lay his head on your lap, looking up at you, admiring the face he loves. You’d put your hand on his hair, gently stroking it as he tells you all about Emi.

He told you someday he’d take you to meet Emi; he’s sure she would love you. But for now, he just wanted to spend time with you. He felt bad for having neglected you these past months.

After you finished eating, the two of you lay back on the blanket, gazing up at the sky. It was already nighttime by then and the two of you didn’t even notice the time that passed.

Above you, the stars began to twinkle. Kenji pulled you close, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you rested your head on his bicep. The world around you faded into the background.

"I love you," he whispered, the words carrying all the emotions he had held back.

"I love you too, Kenji," you replied, your voice equally soft. It felt so surreal to hear it in person after months of only hearing it on calls. “More than you'll ever know."

Taglist is open! Comment if u wanna be tagged on future Kenji oneshots

@eternallyvenus @puppyminnnie @wattpadsuckssohard @sakura-onesan @reggies-eyeliner @buggs-1 @miffysoo @spencerrxids @stupidbutsmart @marimargirlies @mixvchelle @lannnu @lailuv21 @christiinee @abracarabbit @youngbananamilkshake @flutterfly365 @o-schist @brazilsho @arrozyfrijoles23 @finestflora @mmeerraa @mianbaobaoo @themourningfox

#kenji sato x reader #kenji sato #ken sato x reader #ken sato #ultraman: rising #ultraman #fanfiction #oneshot #long distance relationship #ldr

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artsyannierose · 3 months ago

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Catching Up (with an Umbrella) - Sonamy Fic

thanks @essycogany for the idea!!

Bright, green eyes peered over the windowsill, searching for their target in the overwhelmingly decorated cottage.

Target locked: in the kitchen

The intruder hops over the windowsill and lands on the wooden flooring without a sound, red shoes slowly inching further. Within the kitchen, the pink figure’s back remains turned while washing dishes in the sink and singing. The intruder creeps closer, gloved hands outstretched in front of him as he nears his target. Step by step, closer and closer…

”GOTCHA!!”

The shriek that pierced his ears was deserved honestly, as the dish Amy had been holding fell to the floor with a crash of broken glass. She whirled around in a frenzy of messy pink quills and a frazzled expression.

“Sonic! What the heck?!” Amy cried as she stared down at the hazardous minefield on her kitchen floor.

“Sorry Amy, my bad.” the blue hedgehog let go of her torso and shot her a guilty grin before dashing to her closet to snatch a broom and a dustpan. “Hang on, I’ll help you clean!”

”You better…you’re lucky that wasn’t one of my favorites,” Amy grumbled as she bent down to collect the larger shards. Sonic rapidly swept the floor clean and dumped the pieces in the trash, but an unamused glance from Amy stopped him in his tracks.

“What?” he asked.

”I hope you know that one sweep of broken glass doesn’t make it safe to walk around, right?” Amy raised an eyebrow at him. Sonic merely stared back at her, quizzical. “What do I do with you…?” Amy sighed, smiling fondly at her blue hero. “Grab a wet tissue for me, will you?”

”Yes ma’am,” Sonic saluted her before disappearing and reappearing in a flash with her request. Amy dabbed the floor, collecting the smaller pieces of broken glass still on the tiles before folding up the paper and handing to Sonic to discard. Amy’s fingers brushed against his briefly before he left to trash it.

It really didn’t matter how many times she held Sonic’s hand, just the mere idea of the physical contact of her hand with his was enough to awaken the butterflies in her stomach. She swooned as he returned, crouching to her level.

“So, is that all?” he asked her. “Are we done?”

”Um, one last thing,” Amy replied, a faint blush dusting her cheeks at the proximity. “Could you get the vacuum cleaner for me?” she asked him.

”Sure thing!” he winked at her and again dashed off. He returned not a millisecond later with the machine in hand, plugging in into a nearby outlet. Amy watched as he began to clean the last of the glass with the vacuum, doing a thorough job this time around.

It was funny how he pretty much knew where everything in her house was, just because he’d been here so many times by now. If Amy thought about it, his visits had become more and more frequent as of late. She never really had to direct him to anything; he knew her house just as well as she did. Of course, Sonic never officially called anywhere his home—that boy ran wherever he wished, his only master the wind that blows free—but if he had to say, his friends’ homes would be his choice. At least, Amy liked to think that he would perhaps call her his friends home…

”Alrighty, all done!” Sonic exclaimed, throwing a hand out to showcase his hard labor. Amy giggled and offered a light applause.

”My hero, whatever would I do without you?” She swooned, bringing the back of her hand to her forehead. “But you owe me an answer buddy. What the heck was that for?!”

”I said I was sorry! An innocent prank I swear!” Sonic’s quills stood up a bit as he tried to explain himself. Amy’s wrath could be scary, but fortunately this time she seemed more like she was just playing with him. “I…just stopped by to see the best hammer-wielder in the whole wide world?” he tried. That got crack of a smile from Amy.

“Nice save,” she smirked at him for a second, then turned into the purest grin you could find on a person. The hedgehog flung herself onto her companion, nuzzling her cheek against his with a giggle. Sonic faltered a bit, stumbling backward before resting his hand on her back.

”Hey there,” he laughed gently.

”Oh Sonic, I‘m happy to see you,” Amy beamed, not bothering to let go. To his credit though, Sonic allowed her to stay attached to him as long as she wanted (albeit a little flummoxedly), before she finally untangled herself from him. She didn’t let go of his arm though. “Though you couldn’t give me much of a heads up, hm?” She gestured at her unbrushed quills and pajamas. Realizing what a mess she was, Amy’s face turned the color of her namesake. “Wait let me at least go cha-“

”Nah it’s cool, I honestly was just wondering if you’d be up to make some chili dogs,” Sonic interrupted her. “I’ve been all over the world, but somehow your chili always hits the spot,” he grinned at her. “Plus, you look fine to me!”

“Of course you’d say that, I bet you barely brush your quills,” Amy rolled her eyes.

“Hey now, my quills don’t need brushing. The wind-tousled look adds to my charm, don’t you agree?” He ran a hand through his quills before smirking at her in way that nearly gave Amy an aneurysm.

Ignoring the obvious evidence of her massive crush on smug hedgehog written all over her face, Amy shoved her hand in his face, attempting to hide herself from his view. “At least Shadow understands the importance of proper quill maintenance,” she huffed, blowing her bangs out of her face. She stole a glance at Sonic’s face, and the sight caused an undignified snort to escape her lips.

He looked so offended.

“Shadow? Are you kidding me?? You’re telling me you prefer Shadow’s style over mine?” Sonic gasped dramatically, yanking Amy’s hand off his face and pulling it down near his chest.

“And what if I am?” Amy smiled sweetly at him, mockingly.

And then Amy found her back pressed against the wall, nose nearly touching her hero’s, all in the blink of an eye. Emerald eyes pierced her own, causing an explosion of color to flood her face.

“You really prefer Shadow’s style over mine?” he said with a much lower voice, a small smile dancing on his lips. Coherent words were unable to leave Amy’s mouth, while Sonic’s thoughts screamed at him to let her go, though he made no effort to move.

Amy pushed against his chest, creating distance between them.

“That’s…that’s cheating…” she mumbled, completely flushed red. Sonic merely snickered in response. He released the kabe-don, finally allowing Amy to breathe. She drew in a long inhale and exhale before turning to Sonic again.

“A-Anyway, about the chili, “ she attempted to change the subject, “I’m so sorry Sonic, but I have…a prior commitment today in about an hour.” Amy glanced at the clock, her ears wilting a little. “Speaking of which, I really should start getting ready. You’re welcome to stay of course, make yourself at home, but I’ll be gone till pretty much night time.”

”Oh…” Sonic hesitated for a moment. “Would you mind if I tagged along?”

”I…“ Amy was taken aback. Sonic wanted to come with her? She hadn’t even told him what she was doing…which unfortunately didn’t favor company. “Sorry Sonic, I’m really sorry but this is a thing with the owner of this new restaurant down the street—I was going to help him set up business! And I doubt you’d like to be swarmed as the main attraction for the first day, would you Sonic? And then on top of that I have so many errands to-”

”You know me scarily well,” Sonic admitted, wincing at the idea of being a viewing attraction for hours. “I get it, that’s fine, I guess I’ll just hang here for a bit.”

Amy’s brain stuttered for a moment. She was still getting used to this weird dynamic between her and Sonic. It was like they were kind of a couple without really putting a label as such. Not that she was complaining (Amy had been living on Cloud 9 for the past few months), but it felt so, so surreal. But it also felt so natural. She wouldn’t really have it any other way; it was still just Sonic and Amy being Sonic and Amy, except now Sonic and Amy were being Sonic and Amy with a quiet something.

“Yeah sure, stay as long as you like! Call me if you need anything—you know where the phone is,” Amy started to head into the bedroom. Sonic threw some finger guns at her before flopping onto her couch. Amy stifled a laugh with her hand before rushing upstairs.

Sonic rolled over, quills splayed in every different direction. He glanced around the living room, which was oddly put together despite the fact he’d showed up here unannounced. The only things out of place was a plate on the coffee table, fuzzy slippers on the floor, and an opened notepad on the table. Sonic wasn’t sure exactly what he planned to do here while Amy was gone, but all he knew was that he wanted to be around her.

Err—her cozy cottage, that is.

Sonic wasn’t entirely sure why he kept showing up at Amy’s place so often as of late, because he sure wasn’t such a regular visitor in the past. Something really shifted in him after the tumultuous adventure on the Starfall Islands, where Amy (along with Tails and Knuckles) were imprisoned by the cyber energy. Sonic didn’t think he’d ever been more unsure about the outcome of the future; he hadn’t been sure how to get his friends out of cyberspace completely, he hadn’t known what Eggman was planning, he hadn’t known if he would be able to survive the augmenting pain from the corruption in his body, despite how indefatigably stubborn he was. And he hated to admit it, but in the moment, he hadn’t been sure if he’d be able to talk with his friends normally again—talk with Amy again.

And boy did he do some serious introspection about that. He figured that he regretted not making up his mind sooner about how he felt about her. Up until then, he had tried to not dwell on it excessively, but the hours upon hours of sprinting around the tranquil island scenery with nothing but his swirling concerns left him with little else to do. He recalled sitting and watching the rain patter softly against the lush green grass and wishing for nothing more than for Amy to rest her chin on his head and joke about him never checking the day’s weather. She’d of course, be prepared with an umbrella just barely big enough for the both of them to squish under, but she’d offer it nonetheless.

It had accidentally become a thing for them, Amy randomly running across Sonic just chilling in the rain, only mildly annoyed that his fur was getting soaked. She’d scold him for being irresponsible and risking catching a cold while holding her umbrella over him instead. Sonic, for his part, snarked that she worried too much, but would hold the umbrella over the both of them.

The first time Amy had tried that, Sonic disliked the close proximity and chose to make a run for it instead. He did that a lot. He hadn't been fond of those strange, unfamiliar feelings bubbling up in his chest whenever she was around. Fear? Revulsion? Perturbation? Embarrassment? He could never quite put his finger on it, and to be honest he really hadn’t wanted to. All he knew was that running away from them at least stunted their growth, so that’s what he did. He wasn’t quite sure when it happened, but he didn’t really mind Amy’s exuberant affections anymore. He actually felt weird after she stopped instantly pouncing on him on sight, sometimes not even noticing him right away because she was so engrossed in her work. Of course he was immensely proud of her, of how she’d found her calling and her passions; heaven forbid he ever discourage her from them. But she was undeniably much busier now, so different from when her prime incentive was to keep up with him. One time, he even had to draw her attention to him that he’d been there a while and she hadn’t even bothered to say hi, and her simple reply was that she’d been preoccupied. She still hugged him rather frequently, yet Sonic found himself deciding that frequently wasn’t enough.

So perhaps, if he wanted her attention, he surmised that he was going to have to get it himself.

“Okayyy I’m donee~” sang the cause of his pondering, twirling out into the living room. She struck a cute little pose, clad in a collared button-up, paired with a pleated skirt in the same off-white shade. The gold accents on the front and sleeves gave her a professional look, as did the little black handbag thar she rested on her left arm. “What do you think?”

Sonic let out a low whistle before holding a thumbs up. “Ya look good Ames! Very chic,” he smiled at her. The beam she replied with practically lit up the room, cheeks dusted the loveliest shade of rosy pink.

“Well then, I suppose I’m off!” Amy unlocked the main door and stepped outside, heels clacking on the stone path in front of her house. She spun around and blew a kiss at the blue hedgehog still strewn across her couch. “Don’t miss me too much, my darling~”

She could’ve sworn his cheeks colored, just a tad, before he held up a finger heart at her. It was her turn to blush furiously, opening and closing her mouth much akin to a goldfish. With a final rush of blood to her face, she grasped the door handle in a hold that threatened to remold the metal.

“Bye,” she said intelligently, before slamming it shut.

She ambled down the path to her fence, taking a deep breath to return her face to her not-on-fire mode. She was fine. Sonic had just sent her a finger heart. No big deal. Just a finger heart.

The girlish, high-pitched, euphoric squealing reached Sonic’s ears all the way back inside. He chuckled to himself, imagining the way she was probably bouncing around and clutching her face.

He exhaled loudly, already bored. He didn’t plan to stay for long, and would likely return again only after Amy did. He hopped to his feet snd stretched a little, feeling his blood circulating again. His eyes landed on the open notebook in the table.

Now, far be it from Sonic to snoop through a lady’s personal belongings while she was away, but all that stained the pages was a simple sketch in pen of an umbrella, and to the left, a commendably accurate sketch of Sonic himself. He tentatively lifted the book to his face, observing her meticulous handiwork. Every detail was so on-point, and this opinion was in the eyes of the original himself. Sketch Sonic was looking to his side, eyes indicating that he was looking at something he liked a lot. One hand ran through his quills, as if trying to maintain his tousled style. He appeared so effortlessly handsome, entranced by something in the distance.

Sonic wondered if this was the way Amy saw him.

Or maybe…was this the way he looked at Amy?

His attention turned to the umbrella on the other page, a much more simple drawing. Just an umbrella with a heart on top. Amy’s name was written in Japanese, in a very over-the-top, swirly manner, underneath the umbrella on the left side. On the right, he could make out erased pencil scribbles resembling his own name in Japanese, in different positions and styles. Seems as if she had been trying to write his name in a way that matched hers, but couldn’t quite figure out how to make it work. He smiled, picking up the discarded pen and quickly scribbling underneath the umbrella on the right.

Perfect.

He bounced out the window, dashed off, and bounced right back in. He put the item he’d brought on top of the notebook, looking pleased with himself.

Then he left again, feeling the fresh spring breeze caressing his face as he raced across the sun-kissed landscape, the morning providing a beautiful landscape to embrace.

——————

Amy poked her head into the living room in the twilight rays streaming through the window, looking to see if Sonic had happened to stick around, or perhaps had fallen asleep. Upon seeing nothing but an empty couch, she stepped inside and closed the door behind her.

“Sonic?” she called out into the silence. Her only reply was the soft zooming of cars across the roads of the bustling city outside. She sighed and dropped her handbag on the coffee table before flopping onto the couch in exhaustion. She yanked off her shoes, tossing them haphazardly onto the floor. Her feet ached from the constant running around today, and she silently relished in the relief she felt in her heels.

Her gaze fell downward until it landed on the open notebook resting on the surface of the table. Amy’s back shot up straight, the mortifying realization dawning on her that this had been here since morning—all through Sonic’s visit. She snatched the book, identifying which drawings he might have seen.

“Oh shoot. Oh no no no…”

Amy drew Sonic a lot, but she was never quite fond of the way her sketches turned out. Something always felt off. Didn’t feel like her Sonic.

She squinted at the drawing on the paper, scrutinizing its minor errors. Had Sonic seen this? She hadn’t wanted to show him anything until she was satisfied with it.

Finally, her jade eyes drifted to the little umbrella. Amy recalled absent-mindedly doodling this a few hours before Sonic had arrived.

Except it was different now.

Her breath caught in her throat and her fingers just barely glazed the paper. A titter escaped her mouth as she hugged the book to her chest and squealed happily. Written underneath the umbrella on her side was, of course, her own name, but the addition of the signature of her beloved beneath the umbrella on the other side was what elicited her fangirling. Her sparkling eyes opened to find a resplendent, hot pink peony that she somehow managed to completely fail to notice, too enthralled in her own fantasies. She venerably picked it up, as if touching something sacred. Its vivid splendor characterized itself in its gorgeous rosy hued petals, certainly much deeper than Amy’s pastel fur.

She could practically feel Sonic’s emotions left behind by the blossom, like a warm embrace to her heart. She walked to her window, where a gentle night’s breeze kissed her cheeks. She took a deep breath, taking in the pleasant moment, as well as the sweet scent of the peony. Burying her nose within its petals, she gazed longingly at the silver jewel adorning the sky, casting its silver glimmer on the resting world below.

“…I love you, Sonic,” Amy mused, intending the sentiment to be between her and the moon. She smiled and planted a kiss onto her fingers, then sent it away to find her love.

Little did she know that her sweetheart wasn’t far at all—in fact, he’d been perched in a nearby tree, watching her every reaction to his gift. Somehow, he had felt that she was home while enjoying his run through the hills, and sure enough, when he returned, he arrived to see her pick up the notebook.

The second those words left her mouth, he smiled tenderly at her. She couldn’t see him, not through all the shrubbery (and definitely not with the way she was fixated on the moon). He watched her blow a kiss into the night, trying to reach him somehow. He held out his hand, pretending to catch it and brought it to his chest.

The last thing Amy glimpsed before heading inside to go to bed was an unnatural dust cloud, kicked up from a speedy take-off.

#sonamy #sonic the hdegehog #amy rose #sonic x amy #fanfic #sonic fanfiction #artsyanniefics #holy crap i’ve been writing this for nearly a month #and no im not done i’ll make this into a series #yk how u wanted it to be like sonic chasing amy #well yeah how about a series of domestic fluff #cuz that motivates me to write more sonamy i think #anyways hi guys writing sonamy after 4 years #what do u think

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curryshesus · 2 years ago

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bts fics that give me life in a drought

(aka my favorite fics of all time) pt. 2

didn't expect to make a part 2 so soon but seeing how much recognition the first one got, here we are! some of these contain a hearty amount of angst, and oh they're just simply divine :( once again, please make sure to show your love and support to these lovely authors if you enjoyed any of these reads as much as i did!

➺ knife’s edge - by @readyplayerhobi

| jungkook x reader, jimin x reader | 141.8k

mafia au, fluff, angst, smut, violence, series

>> summary: "the jeon clan is family, built on blood and loyalty. it’s been an unspoken fact that one day you will marry the heir to the clan, jeon jungkook. you would be a fool to deny that you love him, but what happens when you meet a blue haired man who offers you a chance at normality?"

this fic absolutely BROKE ME. i was so conflicted all throughout and deadass went through all the 50 stages of grief. the angst was unparalleled. the fluff had me giggling like a madman cuz jk is an absolute sweetheart :( jimin is too :(( y/n is dumb and so is her situation :((( i cherish this fic sm

➺ novocaine - by @kinktae

| jimin x reader |

1990s au, exes au, angst, eventual smut, series

>> summary: "going home was hard – painful even. but falling back in love with jimin, the boy you left behind? downright gut-wrenching."

➺ ghostin him- by @adonis-koo

| namjoon x reader (taehyung x reader) | 26k

angst, angst, as well as angst. comfort too dw, one-shot

>> summary: "life is nothing more than dull colors for you, your world shattered and laying in the shards of what once was rather than focusing on what is. that is until you meet kim namjoon, who is immediately taken by you without realizing you’re a girl with a whole lot of baggage, through tears and many sleepless nights you’re faced with a choice of hanging on with bleeding hands, or accepting what is, and letting go."

ohmygod the writing hello? the amount of soul, depth, and sheer utter beauty in missy's words are beyond me. had me sobbing every other line and my heart aching all throughout and boy was it worth it.

➺ take five - by @jiminrings

| yoongi x reader | 10k

angst, fluff, unrequited love, pinning

summary: "dr. min yoongi's a board-certified dermatologist; skilled, renowned, and in-demand - oh and also, he's divorced."

➺ page turner - by @gukslut

| taehyung x reader | 13.6k

teacher!tae/ librarian!reader, fluff, smut, minor angst

summary: "corny romance and a zillion cheesy Romeo and Juliet quotes and references."

my tainted hopeless romantic heart ugh. they're so cute.

➺ bloom- by @hobidreams

| namjoon x reader | 20.7k

assassin!reader x florist!namjoon, smut, angst, action, sprinkles of fluff

>> summary: "family is who you kill for. who you die for. in this society, you and your kin are shadows, clinging to the darkness to obey orders absolute. but when such orders command you to abandon what little honor remains for wealth and notoriety, you find yourself lost in lonely uncertainty about the only vocation you’ve ever known. that is, until you meet a man with gentle hands, a poet’s heart, and a love for coaxing the world into bloom."

➺ counterfeit culture - by @ggukcangetit

| seokjin x reader | 29k

modern day au loosely based on jane austen’s pride & prejudice, e2l, fluff, smut, comedy

>>summary: “for as long as you can remember, you’ve always known right from wrong, good from bad, and woke from entitled/ignorant. but when you continue to cross paths with Kim Seokjin - the apparent antithesis of everything you believe in - certain walls begin to crumble. and over time, you come to realise that the world isn’t black and white, first impressions can be misleading, and that you are just as guilty as each person you’ve judged so harshly. realisation brings acceptance, and maybe, just maybe, acceptance can bring something more.”

➺ if i told you - by @gukyi

| jungkook x reader | 22k

friends to lovers!au, college!au, fluff, comedy, angst

>> summary: "in order to pay for university, jeon jungkook decides to market his most valuable asset to the wealthy socialites of campus: himself. donning a suit and tie, tousled hair, and glasses (to look smarter), he becomes every rich daughter’s dream: the perfect boyfriend to bring to balls, dinners, and business gatherings. all while you watch from the sidelines, only able to dream of having that much money to buy yourself what you really want: him."

➺ to hold a dragon's heart - by @softlyjiminie

| taehyung x reader | 19.1k

dragon prince!kim taehyung x warrior princess!reader, smut, angst, fluff, forbidden romance, dragon shifter!au, royalty!au, enemies to lovers!au

>> summary: "two kingdoms, two hearts and the world between them. your whole life has been a challenge, never an easy moment on your road to becoming queen but will one decision, one encounter with the man you were destined to hate, change the fate of your worlds, forever?"

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alice-angel12x · 2 months ago

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The Blue Knight pt. 4

The complicated heart arch

<- Part 3/ Part 5 ->

After exploring the kingdom and gathering all the shards of freedom. Pure Vanilla and co, finally regrouped with Elder fairy and Y/n at White Lily's case.

"Y/n cookie how-," Pure vanilla pauses.

Y/n looked, frazzled a bit. Their eyes stared off at something far away, and they hugged themselves.

"Are you okay? What happened?" Pure vanilla rushes over to Y/n.

"I... We... We should be focusing on the task ahead. I can tell you later," They weakly smile, as they join gingerbrave and his friends.

"Are you sure you're Okay?" Gingerbrave asked.

"I'll be alright," Y/n smiles the best she can.

Pure Vanilla turns his attention to Elder Fearie Cookie, who proceeds to explain how to help White Lily Cookie.

"We need a powerful life force," Elder Fairy Cookie disclosed.

“B-but that would mean… A cookie would have to sacrifice their own life powder?!” Pure vanilla gasps.

“It seems that way,” Y/n says slowly. “Makes sense in a way. A life for a life.”

“Magic so sinister, and yet so just,” Elder Faerie adds. “But because dark entrances cookie exists, White lily will only have half a life. And neither will be whole.”

“How is that a fair exchange?!” Pure Vanilla questions.

“You can’t have your cake and eat it too,” Y/n says as they place a hand on his shoulder.

“When white lily cookie left for the witches Banquet… She said.. If my life is the price… it is a worthy sacrifice. Use my life powder,” Pure Vanilla offers.

“No,” Y/n Cookie says sternly.

“Y/n Cookie is right!” Strawberry cookie adds.

“We need your help to fight dark enchantress cookie!” Wizard cookie jumps in.

“Don’t worry, it won’t crumble me, but only-“

“Absolutely not,” Y/n cuts him off.

“Y/n Cookie,” Pure vanilla sighs, a slight edge to his town. “White lily was willing to do whatever it takes to help cookie kind. And… And as her friend I -“

“You are also a king and a source of hope for cookie kind. You have a kingdom that relies on you. You have friends who will worry about you,” Y/n Cookie stands their ground.

“To tell you the truth, those questions bothered me for a long time. Why was it that White lily cookie had to become dark enchantress cookie. And why was there nothing I can do to help. Whether I should have insisted more on stopping her,” Pure vanilla smiles sadly.

“What white lily cookie really needed… was a friend who understood her,” Pure vanilla finishes.

“Do you understand her? Or do you think you know?” Y/n challenged.

Pure vanilla’s tightens his grip on his staff. Everyone could feel the tension between the king and his knight.

“I have the chance to meet white Lily cookie again. Not as a memory, not as a vision, not as Dark Enchantress cookie, but as the real white lily cookie,” Pure Vanilla said finally, looking Y/n in the eyes. “ This time. I won’t let her g-… I won’t let her down.”

Y/n flinches at his words. Her stubborn stance drops as her eyes threaten to tear up. Breathing in and shoving all her feelings into the basement of her mind. She huffs in as she returns her stare.

“Fine, do whatever you want… Your highness,” Y/n grumbled as they walked away.

Pure Vanilla stands still, his grip loosening. Yet he didn't find any joy this this petty victory. The hero slowly looks back as Y/n crosses their arms and rest against a tree. Their eyes closed tight, Pure Vanilla knew that was Y/n's way of holding back tears.

With a sad frown, Pure Vanilla turns to Elder fairy, ready to offer his life powder once more.

"Your knight is correct. There is still many things left for you to do. And many cookies will be counting on you. I will offer my life powder. Pure vanilla I will hold you to that promise. Don't let her down," Elder fairy interrupts.

Pure vanilla frowns sadly as the fairy king carries out the witch's ritual of life. Waking White Lily cookie from her slumber. Everyone gather in excitement as White Lily opened her eyes. Asking if she is okay, and what she last remembers.

Y/n lingers at the back of the crowd, seeing that she would be well taken care of. They decided to find a place to compose themself.

------------------------

Y/n wandered the Fairy kingdom aimlessly, eventully wandered to the silver tree. They ran their hand against the magical trunk, when.

"Hahaha, I smell some real good Drama," A voice giggled.

Y/n jumps back as they stare in shock at the tree.

"Who was that?! Show Yourself!" Y/n shouted, searching for the source.

"You'll never be enough for that thief. His heart will always be with the white flower," the voice continued to mock.

"Wow, thanks for the sage advice," Y/n spat sarcastically.

"Am I wrong, thou?" The mocking voice chuckled. "He is a greedy little thief."

"Interesting choice of words to describe Pure Vanilla Cookie," Y/n said with an edge. "You must be Shadow Milk Cookie."

"Oooh! You're a smart little cookie, aren't you?" Shadow Milk Cooed. "But you see, Thief is the perfect word to describe that 'hero'. He only got to where he is today cause he stole MY soul jam. "

"I don't know, maybe you shouldn't have lost it," Y/n quips back.

It was silent for a bit, like Shadow Milk needed a minute to take in what was said.

"HAHAHAHA!!! A smart Alec too!! Hahahaha!" He laughs.

Y/n squints slightly, the laugh seemed forced somehow.

"You will be the first one I crumble first," Shadow Milk threatens.

Visions flash across Y/n's eyes. Shutting their eyes tight, suppressing the powers.

"We'll See," I all they say, turing to leave.

"See you soon," the voice promised.

-------------------------

continuing their mindless walk, so caught up in thought that they bump into someone.

"Oh, Sorry. I was just," Y/n pauses as they see who it was that they bumped into. "White Lily Cookie? What are you doing here?"

"Umm... Do I know you?" She asked softly.

"No, but I am friends with Gingerbrave. I'm Y/n Knight Cookie," They introduced themselves.

"Nice... To meet you," White Lily said slowly, her mind currently occupied.

"Trying to take in everything?" Y/n asked as they leaned against the bridge railing.

"Very much so. I... I ruined the world," White Lily sniffled.

"What you saw at that banquet must have been horrible," Y/n says slowly.

"Do you know why cookies were first created?" White Lily slowly asked.

"Honestly, I don't know, and it depends on the witch you're talking about." Y/n shrugs.

"Which one?" White Lily asked, confused.

"My mother, Blue Lily Cookie, told me that there are many witches. Each one is unique. Some good, some bad, others too curious." Y/n said as they looked up at the sky. "Each one had their own reason why they made cookies."

White Lily looks to the sky, too, at the endless twinkling sky.

"But that's not entirely important. For as long as I can remember, I never once met a witch to tell me why I was made. So why should I care what some giant says about me?" Y/n says.

White Lily gasped at their words, turning to them as Y/n slowly stood tall.

"What is important right now is that half of you is out there causing harm to many. What do you plan to do about it? Are you going to let Dark Enchantress and the witches determine what cookie kind is, and should be?" Y/n pauses to stare into White Lily cookie's eyes.

White Lily's eyes were filled with sorrow, regret, fear, and some determination.

"Or are you going to protect the cookies you love, and you shape your purpose," Y/n adds.

"I-.. I want-"

BOOM!

It was the tree, and a large gaping hole had formed in the trunk.

"AAAHHHH! Doesn't the fresh air feel DIVINE! I'm so sorry for keeping my audience waiting," A giant cookie said, as he pulls himself out of the hole. " But Know the wait is Over, Your Favorite jester is here. Shadow Milk Cookie."

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