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4barbatos · 2 days ago

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✦ forgive me, father (for i came)

venti x dahlia x fem!reader

then had a ménage à trois ...last friday night .ᐟ

cw: threesome (dom!venti & dom!dahlia x sub!fem!reader), spit-roasting, overstimulation, light dumbification, degradation and praise, blasphemous religious themes, rough sex, oral (receiving + giving), light choking, name-calling, drunken decisions, semi-public buildup, reader being very very down bad. idek atp it’s unholy.

a/n: jesus. this fic nearly took me out 😭 had to do actual research on what goes down at an american party bc obviously i’m not american (if u thought i was…… respectfully get out). also i was gonna post this at 2am but i deadass fell asleep mid-edit while “last friday night” was blasting in my left ear.

had this festering in my drafts for like a week because my brain refused to cooperate. finishing it felt like fighting for my life in the trenches, but i’m glad i pushed through bc i kinda love it??? dahlia being a repressed religious perv is sooo real to me. venti has a god complex and i’m not stopping him. man thinks he invented pleasure. praise be.

also! modern college au, everyone’s legal and consenting, and ready to make terrible decisions <3

you didn’t even wanna come to this party.

like, genuinely. you had an exam next week, a half-written paper, and a half-dead social battery. the last thing you needed was to be shoulder-to-shoulder with a bunch of horny undergrads blasting katy perry like it was 2010 and shame didn’t exist.

but your roommate was hot and persuasive and already four shots in when she started dragging you by the wrist.

“i swear,” she slurred, her glitter eyeshadow half-smudged and confidence turned all the way up to eleven, “you need to get dicked down or at least dance, girl.”

you brought a water bottle and wore a thrifted denim short. crop top optional, dignity minimal. you figured you’d hover around the snacks, say no to three drinks, and dip early with your gpa intact.

you weren’t expecting to find god.

or rather — two boys who made you forget him completely.

it started off normal. crowded house, colored leds, somebody grinding to a weeknd remix in the living room. your roommate disappeared ten minutes in, presumably to go make out with that guy from her econ class who looked like he cried after sex.

you were posted by the kitchen counter with your “water” (spiked, probably) and a vague plan to ghost as soon as someone tried to rope you into flip cup.

suddenly you heard a familiar voice, buried under the bass and drunk laughter. something warm and deep, with a laugh you remembered a little too well — like the echo of a bad idea, like the first sip of communion wine that was definitely not grape juice.

you turned your head, scanning through the haze of neon lights and sweaty bodies until you saw him.

“wait,” you said, freezing mid-step. “is that—”

you blinked through the crowd. tilted your head. no fucking way.

“dahlia?”

and like some kind of divine punishment, he looked up right as you said it. head tilted. curls a little longer now. smile the same. pretty as always, just older — more grown into himself. less sunday choir, more sunday morning regret.

you stared. he stared back.

and he smiled. slow. familiar.

“holy shit,” you mumbled. “literal church boy dahlia. the pervert.”

your friend turned her head, already halfway through her third drink. “the what?”

you grinned, cheeks flushed. “he used to moan during prayer.”

she choked. “you’re kidding.”

“senior youth retreat. i was there. it was dark.”

you didn’t mean to talk to him again. not really.

you were supposed to be getting more water — in the loosest sense of the word — and maybe scoping out the snacks before your roommate dared someone to dance on the dining table. but somehow, you ended up pressed near the kitchen counter with him, sipping vodka-disguised hydration and laughing a little too easily against the tune of an early-2000s party playlist.

like the past didn’t hum under your skin.

like you hadn’t spent whole years pretending you didn’t think about his lips when you closed your eyes.

“you still go to church?” you asked, voice looser now, a little slow from the alcohol. your eyes flicked down to the rosary slung around his neck, a glint of silver nestled above exposed collarbones. the chain dipped beneath his half-unbuttoned shirt — a silk one, of course, because dahlia didn’t know how to dress normally.

“every sunday,” he said, tilting his head, elbow resting behind you like he always needed to trap you somewhere. “confession, too.”

you raised a brow. “must be a long-ass session.”

he grinned. “only when i think of you.”

you choked. coughed. wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.

“you’re disgusting,” you muttered, trying not to smile. “jesus wept.”

“probably because you wore that skirt to sunday school.”

you gave him a look. “you wore fishnets to a baptism.”

“we all have our moments.”

you snorted, flicking his arm. “blasphemous freak.”

he leaned in, mouth close to your ear, voice low: “missed you too, sweetheart.”

you were about to recover — really — when a new voice cut in. higher, smoother, soaked in flirt and casual sin.

“hey,” someone drawled, “who’s your friend?”

you turned your head.

and immediately forgot how to breathe.

the boy standing there looked like temptation had crawled out of a lana del rey song and decided to make itself fashion. crop top riding dangerously high on his waist. eyeliner smudged like he’d fucked and cried in it. messy red eyeshadow painted over his lids like sin. earrings glinting with every lazy tilt of his head. thigh chains. layered necklaces. a smile like he already knew every filthy thought in your head and was ready to make it worse.

he looked at you like a cat watching something twitch.

“venti,” dahlia muttered beside you, voice already tight. “this is y/n.”

venti’s eyes didn’t leave your face. “oh. hi.”

your brain short-circuited.

he tilted his head, smile curling. slow. knowing.

your heart did a little skip. then maybe a cartwheel. maybe a confessional-level sin.

you didn’t answer. you couldn’t. you blinked, twice, trying to remember how words worked.

venti’s gaze dragged down and up in one unashamed sweep — not even pretending to be subtle. when his eyes met yours again, they sparkled. and then he smiled wider.

dahlia rolled his eyes so hard it looked like a prayer for patience. “she’s mine.”

you scoffed immediately. “she’s not,” you said, turning fully toward him — maybe too quick. maybe too flustered.

venti was still watching you, smug like he’d already won.

your knees wobbled. traitors.

dahlia noticed. of course he did. he stepped in closer, hand ghosting over your hip like he had to remind both of you where you used to belong.

“you’re drunk,” he muttered, low.

“so are you,” you shot back, voice breathier than you wanted.

venti’s grin sharpened like a knife. “i’m sober enough to know i’d make her feel better than your holy hands ever could.”

he took a sip from his red solo cup, and when a drop slipped past his lip, he caught it with his tongue.

your soul left your body.

dahlia made a sound halfway between a scoff and a growl. “you’re going to hell.”

venti shrugged, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “with her? gladly.”

you exhaled. shaky. already fucked in the head. already thinking about what it’d be like to be ruined between them — choir boy and chaos incarnate.

you had a paper due monday. a hangover waiting to ambush you. a party full of strangers that wouldn’t notice you disappearing.

and god definitely wasn’t here tonight.

“so,” venti said, stepping closer — dangerously closer — until your shoulder nearly brushed his. he smelled like wine and spearmint and something sweet you couldn’t name. “what brings a girl like you to a party like this?”

“roommate dragged me,” you replied, trying to sound casual. your voice came out thinner than expected. “i have an exam next week.”

“mm. you study hard?”

“i try to.”

he smiled like you just handed him ammunition. “you look like you need a break.”

“she doesn’t need your kind of break,” dahlia muttered, shifting beside you. his palm skimmed the curve of your waist, familiar and territorial.

venti, unbothered, leaned past you to grab a bottle off the counter — something green and half-empty — and poured a finger of it into his cup. he offered it to you with a smirk.

you didn’t take it.

“i’m already drunk,” you said.

“so am i,” he replied, “and yet i’m still making excellent choices.”

“this isn’t an excellent choice,” dahlia said, tugging you a little closer.

“what, sharing a drink or stealing your girl?”

you almost choked.

“i’m not his girl,” you said.

dahlia’s fingers tensed.

venti’s eyes glittered. “well, if you’re not his… can i have you?”

you blinked at him.

and maybe it was the alcohol. maybe it was the way he was smiling like he’d already won. maybe it was the ghost of dahlia’s breath on your neck, the memory of his hands under your skirt at sixteen, the fact that you felt so alive for the first time in weeks —

but you said it. blame the devil, the vodka, the look in venti’s eyes. you said it anyway.

“are you two gonna keep talking,” you asked, voice low, “or are you gonna fuck me?”

a beat of stunned silence.

then —

“dibs,” venti said, instantly, voice light but laced with something that made your spine straighten. “i call dibs.”

“you can’t call dibs,” dahlia snapped, sharp and bristling. “she’s not some fucking prize.”

venti only smiled, stepping closer with that same lazy, dangerous charm. “sure feels like i’m winning something.”

“i talked to her first.”

“you also tried to claim her like a parking space,” venti shot back, glancing at you with a knowing gleam. “she said no, remember?”

you blinked up at them, half amused, half unhinged, stomach doing flips and thighs already pressing tight.

“jesus,” you muttered, “this is the worst threesome negotiation ever.”

venti leaned down a little, voice dropping as he looked you straight in the eye. “oh, love. this isn’t negotiation. this is foreplay.”

you might’ve blacked out for a second. just a little.

then dahlia was suddenly behind you, crowding close enough for his chest to press against your back, one hand low on your waist, mouth right next to your ear.

“say the word,” he murmured, “and i’ll take you upstairs right now. don’t even have to look at him.”

venti hummed. “but she wants to. don’t you, pretty thing?”

you turned to look at him.

his tongue was running along the edge of his bottom lip, slow and knowing, fingers playing with one of his necklaces. he was watching you like a dare. like he already knew what decision you were going to make.

your mouth went dry. your body didn’t.

“you’re both,” you said, exhaling, “so fucking annoying.”

“but hot,” venti reminded, cocky.

“and talented,” dahlia added, already pulling you subtly toward the hallway. “you remember.”

venti’s hand was on your other wrist before you realized it, cool and confident. “i promise i’m better.”

you didn’t even know who led you up the stairs — one of them pushed the door open, the other tugged you inside, both of them crowding close as the music faded behind a slam and the click of a lock.

heat. hands.

someone’s mouth on your neck. someone else’s fingers at the hem of your shorts.

“dibs on her mouth,” venti said, already dropping to his knees, smiling like the devil as he looked up at you.

“you’re such a slut,” dahlia muttered — but he let go.

“i am,” venti grinned, tugging your hips closer. “and she’s about to be, too.”

you barely had time to breathe.

venti’s hands were already gliding up your thighs, warm and smooth, dragging your shorts and underwear down in one practiced, greedy motion. the grin never left his face. not even when he kissed the inside of your knee and said, in the sweetest voice you’d ever heard:

“hold still for me, baby. gonna make you sing.”

you almost said something smart — almost — but then his mouth was on you, and the words evaporated. tongue hot, slow, teasing. his thumbs held your thighs open with a surprisingly firm grip, and then he moaned into your pussy like he’d just tasted something divine.

your knees buckled.

“fuck,” you gasped, one hand shooting out blindly until it hit dahlia’s arm. you curled your fingers into his shirt. “oh my god—”

“told you she’d sound pretty,” venti murmured against your cunt, before licking another long stripe up the center and flicking your clit with his tongue.

“and i told you to shut up,” dahlia muttered, but his voice was hoarse. his hand found the back of your neck, thumb stroking the edge of your jaw as he leaned in to kiss your temple. “you like his mouth, baby?”

you whimpered, nodding helplessly.

“yeah, she does,” venti said smugly. “she’s dripping. such a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

you would’ve protested — maybe — but then he sucked, lips wrapping around your clit and tugging just right, and the pleasure hit like lightning.

your hips jerked forward. dahlia caught you.

“venti,” you whimpered, “fuck—i can’t—”

“yes, you can,” he said sweetly. “let go for me, pretty thing. cum all over my tongue.”

you did.

shaking, gasping, clinging to dahlia’s shirt like a lifeline while your thighs trembled around venti’s head. he groaned, licking you through it, hands firm on your ass to keep you steady.

when it was over, he kissed the inside of your thigh like a reward.

“so sweet,” he murmured, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “might get addicted.”

you were still trying to catch your breath when dahlia gently tilted your face toward his.

his eyes were dark.

“my turn,” he said.

you didn’t realize you were grinding against venti’s mouth until he groaned, loud and thrilled, hands squeezing your thighs to keep you there. your head spun. your hips jerked. he loved it.

“needy girl,” he gasped against you, tongue flicking quick and sharp. “use me.”

you whimpered.

behind you, dahlia cursed under his breath, pushing your bra up to mouth at your tits, teeth grazing your nipple just rough enough to make you jolt. “fuck, baby. so sensitive. you’re gonna cum already, aren’t you?”

venti pulled back just enough to grin against your skin. “she’s close.”

“she always was easy.” “she’s perfect.” “she’s mine.”

you gasped, nearly choking on your own breath.

“then why’s she whining on my tongue?” venti said, smug, dragging it over you again — and god, it was filthy the way he moaned like he’d been starved for this, like the taste of you was his favorite kind of poison.

you cried out, trembling hard enough that dahlia had to grip your hips tighter to keep you upright.

“venti—venti—fuck—”

“cum for me,” he said sweetly. “be good and make a mess on my face.”

and you did.

with a cry that split the air, you came hard — shaking, hips bucking, vision dark at the edges. venti didn’t stop. he ate it up, humming, licking through your orgasm like he was trying to memorize it. like he wanted seconds.

maybe thirds.

you barely had time to catch your breath before dahlia was spinning you, lips crashing into yours — rough, messy, starved.

“still mine,” he muttered against your mouth. “she might’ve got you first, but i get to fuck you.”

venti wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes shining. “we get to fuck her.”

dahlia didn’t argue this time.

you were dizzy, your knees barely holding, your pulse still too fast. but you didn’t care.

not when dahlia was walking you back toward the bed, pushing you gently down, stripping you slow like you were something precious and ruined all at once. not when venti crawled up beside you, kissing your neck, your jaw, your collarbone — every inch dahlia wasn’t touching.

“gonna take care of you,” venti whispered, fingers ghosting down your stomach. “you’ll let us, won’t you?”

you nodded. breathless.

“use your words, baby,” dahlia said, already undoing his belt. “what do you want?”

you looked between them — wrecked and warm and starving — lips parted, thighs trembling, mouth slick with spit and want and everything you weren’t supposed to be.

your voice barely came out a whisper.

“…both of you.”

venti beamed. radiant. unholy. like a prayer turned inside out.

“god bless.”

“god hates us,” dahlia muttered, already pushing your thighs further apart, climbing over you like he owned you. “and i’m about to make you forget every prayer you’ve ever known.”

your breath hitched. your whole body keened.

then came the first thrust — deep, deliberate — and the air punched out of your lungs in a messy, wrecked sound.

you didn’t even know whose hands were on you anymore. one gripped your throat just enough to make your vision blur at the edges, another curled around your hip, dragging you back against their pace like you were made for it. venti was saying something — words you couldn’t catch, not when your brain was sliding like honey through your skull — but his mouth was wet and hot and everywhere, his tongue licking into your teeth like he wanted to taste the exact second you broke.

dahlia growled in your ear, low and dark, his grip bruising.

“say it,” he rasped. “say who’s making you feel this good.”

“y-you both—” you gasped, hands scrabbling for anything to hold onto. “fuck, please—”

“aw, look at her,” venti cooed, voice syrupy, cocky, cruel. “can’t even think straight. how many times has she cum already?”

“four,” dahlia grunted. “maybe five.”

“mm. not enough.”

you whimpered as venti dipped between your legs again, tongue unrelenting, too much — too much — but god, you didn’t want it to stop. didn’t want to breathe if it meant they’d stop touching you like this, worshipping you like the altar you were never meant to be.

you moaned — high and helpless — when dahlia’s pace picked up, slamming into you like he was trying to fuck his name into your spine.

venti grinned up at you from between your thighs, lips wet and swollen.

“gonna make her forget the alphabet.”

“already did,” dahlia panted. “she went stupid after the second orgasm.”

you didn’t deny it.

you couldn’t. your brain had been fucked clean out of your head, scrambled like eggs, your only thoughts left were their names and the way they made you feel — raw, perfect, ruined.

and still they kept going. and you let them.

you let them, because you were already too far gone. because your body begged for more even when your mind shattered. because you’d never felt this good. this full. this taken.

because whatever sins you’d committed to get here?

you’d do them all again. twice. in heels.

god was gone. and you were still moaning.

it didn’t matter anymore. not with your legs trembling open, cunt puffy and dripping, drool sliding from the corner of your mouth as you moaned pathetically around venti’s cock.

“ohh, look at her,” venti cooed, breath shaky, voice teasing and airy as he fisted your hair. “baby’s all fucked out already, and we haven’t even finished.”

“slut,” dahlia muttered behind you, hands digging into your hips as he snapped his into yours. “you came again, didn’t you? just now. again. fuck—your pussy’s still squeezing like she wants more.”

you whined around venti’s length, eyelids fluttering. your arms couldn’t hold you up anymore. your thighs had given out ages ago. they kept you upright between them — barely — venti’s cock hitting the back of your throat while dahlia was still pounding into your soaked, overstimulated cunt like he was trying to fuck the brain out of you.

maybe he already had.

venti moaned, hips twitching as your lips hollowed around him. “you’re drooling, pretty girl,” he gasped. “so messy. god, i love it. she’s not even blinking, look—she’s gone, dahlia.”

“good,” dahlia growled, pace still brutal. “she wanted to act like she didn’t want either of us earlier. needed a reminder.”

venti chuckled, breathless. “she’ll forget her name at this rate.”

you tried to answer — to say fuck you or i hate you or please or more or something, anything — but your voice was gone, throat raw, thoughts mush.

“mm-mm,” venti murmured, noticing the twitch of your brows. “don’t think. just feel.”

you whined again — this time, deeper. desperate.

dahlia leaned forward, hand sliding up to wrap around your throat from behind. “you gonna cum again for us, sweetheart?” he rasped into your ear, hips still slamming into you. “gonna cream all over my cock like a needy little toy?”

you gasped around venti, tears finally slipping from your lashes.

venti groaned, tilting your head up to look at him. “god, she’s crying,” he whispered. “you’re so fucking pretty like this, y’know that?”

you made a wrecked little noise, drool sliding past your lips as you nodded.

dahlia grunted. “fucking knew she liked it. knew you were a dirty girl the second i saw you in that church dress.”

your cunt clenched violently.

“fuck—again?” dahlia moaned. “she’s—she’s gonna—”

you broke.

legs kicking, arms trembling, a scream caught in your throat around venti’s cock as your body convulsed, heat flashing white as you came hard — your sixth? seventh? you couldn’t tell — clenching so tight around dahlia it made him swear, hips jerking once, twice, before he buried himself to the hilt with a groan.

venti whimpered. “ohh, fuck, baby—fuck—gonna—gonna—”

he pulled out just in time, coming hot and fast across your tongue and lips, his hand under your chin to tilt your face up, make you take it. you let your mouth fall open, drool and spit and come spilling messily down your chin.

“that’s it,” he gasped, voice sweet and fucked. “good girl. good fucking girl.”

you whimpered — barely conscious, twitching.

dahlia pulled out slow, watching your slick drip down your thighs. “fuck, look at that mess,” he muttered, thumb brushing your clit just to watch you flinch. “soaked the sheets. hope your roommate’s proud.”

venti collapsed beside you, sweaty and blissed out, grabbing your hand and pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

you blinked at him, dazed. “mmnnh.”

he grinned. “no thoughts. just cock.”

“mission accomplished,” dahlia muttered, flopping beside you on the other side.

you weren’t even sure which of them kissed your shoulder.

you just knew your legs didn’t work, your soul had left your body, and if god had been here tonight —

he definitely left mid-threesome.

you woke up to the sound of someone snoring and someone else — singing.

acoustic. badly. with feeling.

“…living in a material wooorld, and i am a material giiirl—”

your brain hurt. your legs hurt. your entire existence hurt.

you cracked one eye open.

and immediately regretted everything.

venti was sitting cross-legged on the floor, wrapped in a blanket like some sleep-deprived prophet, strumming an actual guitar (???) you swore nobody had brought to the party. eyeliner smudged halfway to his temples, red eyeshadow still smeared across one cheek like war paint. his lips were shiny — glossy, even. god only knew why.

he grinned when he saw you awake.

“morning, sunshine! you moaned like a pornstar in your sleep.”

you blinked.

rolled over.

and immediately saw dahlia, shirtless, face buried in a pillow, groaning like he had just been born into suffering.

“kill me,” he rasped.

you sat up slowly, blanket clutched to your chest, realizing three things at once:

1. you were wearing dahlia’s shirt. inside out.

2. venti was definitely wearing your bra like a headband.

3. someone had written “slut sandwich” on the fogged-up mirror in lipstick.

“what the actual hell happened,” you croaked, throat wrecked, dignity in shambles, and your legs about two steps away from quitting the entire concept of balance.

“sex,” venti answered brightly from the bed, still shirtless, still smug. “lots of it. possibly illegal in some countries.”

“definitely illegal in a church parking lot,” dahlia added, not even opening his eyes. “and probably a few states.”

you flipped them both off with shaky fingers as you stumbled toward the bathroom, every muscle in your body filing a complaint.

“don’t forget to hydrate!” venti called after you, far too cheerful for a man who’d literally begged to cum in your mouth five hours ago.

you grumbled something about exorcisms and shoved the bathroom door open, clinging to the sink like a war veteran. mascara smudged. knees bruised. bite marks blooming like artwork down your collarbone. you didn’t even want to check your hair.

you’d barely closed the door behind you when you heard:

“hey dahlia?”

“what.”

“did we actually high-five while spit-roasting her or was that just something i dreamed about?”

a pause.

“nah. we definitely high-fived. you yelled ‘teamwork makes the cream work.’”

venti wheezed. “oh my god. i’m hilarious.”

you slammed the bathroom door shut like it owed you money.

god, give me strength, you prayed silently. and maybe a therapist. and a gallon of electrolytes.

…also maybe another round after brunch. if they behave.

a/n: guys imma be honest this only got finished bc of @ventisslut <3 ily mother. bless 🙏 if it weren’t for u i’d probably still be staring at my docs unfinished and untouched (like me)

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ghostlyferrettarot · 15 hours ago

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💌♡✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚Pick A Card: Your love story with your future spouse 💌♡✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚

❗️This is a collective reading, take what resonates and leave the rest❗️

✨️Paid Services ✨️ (Natal charts and tarot readings) Open!

🫧Join my Patreon for exclusive content!🫧

🌸If you like my work you can support me through Ko-fi. Thank you!🌸

🥰Masterlist🥰🥰Masterlist 2🥰

💌♡✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚ Pile 1: 🀢🀣🀦🀤 Cards: 5 of Swords – The Tower – 2 of Cups – Knight of Wands – Justice – The Star.

Okay pile 1, you and your future spouse are starting off with a strange energy. There's some competition in the air. It's giving enemies to lovers, and Maxton Hall vibes (go watch it if you haven't ;)). There's strife, friction, a vibe of intellectual, professional, or ego rivalry. You may work together, have opposing opinions on everything, or you may simply not be able to stand each other because there's too much tension… emotional and other 👀. The Tower appears when something crucial happens between you. A heated argument, an unexpected confession, a situation that completely breaks the impression you had on eachother, etc. Whatever happens, it makes you see each other with new eyes. Something falls apart, and underneath there are feelings (even if you two dont want to admit it at first, i see you guys but it will be undeniable). There's vulnerability in this, like a "oh no… I like you" situation. This person will truly see you because you two are so much alike, you have the same fire as them. And then, without knowing how, you're sharing something real. Fights now end in laughter. Or kisses. Or both 👀. Justice shows me that you're learning to balance each other. That you're both intense, yes, but you're also learning to admire each other. To trust. To build. And the Star is pure healing. This bond transforms you. You don't just love each other: you polish each other, you elevate each other, you truly understand each other. You're going to have to swallow your pride. But it's completely worth it. It's giving rom-com, 10 Things I Hate About You, Bridgerton (season 2 specially).

💌♡✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚ Pile 2: 🀢🀣🀦🀤 Cards: 6 of Cups – 3 of Swords – The Lovers – Death – King of Cups – Temperance.

This story has HISTORY, I feel like this is some past energy. You and your future spouse have met before. Maybe it was young love, crushes that didn't quite work out, or someone with whom things just didn't align. There was a breakup. It hurt. Maybe you each went your separate ways, believing you'd get over it. Spoiler pile 2: you didn't get over it 🙃, and that's for the best. Maybe it was someone you met briefly and never forgot, or the other way around. Or even someone from another life. Something forced you to let go before your time. And it wasn't fair. It wasn't the ending you deserved. BUT. Fate didn't forget you. The Lovers mark the reappearance of this person. The reunion. Maybe years later. Maybe when you didn't even expect it. But love returns. And with the Death card, the energy changes radically, this time you are not the same. This time you choose each other with maturity. With awareness. And believe me, this reunion is no coincidence, it's karmic. You are not who you were. And that's good. Now you're ready. The King of Cups represents a wise, present, deep love. And Temperance is the calm after the storm. This relationship becomes a refuge. A safe space. A form of love that only exists when you've known pain and decided to heal with each other. Sometimes the timing isn't right… until it is. And then, everything falls into place as if it was always meant to be. Something that's coming to mind while i'm channeling is the movie Love Rosie, so I feel like that's the kind of story you two will have. Maybe this is a friend of yours as well, someone close.

💌♡✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚ Pile 3: 🀢🀣🀦🀤 Cards: The Fool – 4 of Wands – The World – Ace of Cups – Wheel of Fortune – Queen of Pentacles.

PILE 3 I'm really screaming, your romance that seems straight out of a book. This is the kind of story where you wake up one day, go about your routine like any other, and suddenly, you meet someone who completely changes the course of your life. It's that powerful energy. You're entering a new phase. Maybe you just moved, quit a job, decided to live for yourself. You're exploring, growing. And then, without even looking for it… they appear. A person who looks at you as if they've known you before. ITS GIVING SOULMATES SO HARD. You might meet at a wedding, a party, a ceremony… or even through someone else. Either way, there's an IMMEDIATE vibe of "why do I feel like I already know you?" This connection is cosmic. This person celebrates you. They're with you. They don't want to change you or rescue you: they want to see you shine. There are synchronicities everywhere, like repeated numbers, "chance" encounters, phrases that repeat themselves in your dreams. Maybe you already met them in dreams, or your higher selves have already met. With this person, you feel free, accepted, safe. The Wheel of Fortune screams to me: this is destiny. You didn't plan it. But you can't avoid it. And the Queen of Pentacles shows a stable love, the kind that is built day by day, with care, with mate in the morning and massages after a long day. With this person, you will build a beautiful life, with roots. There is emotional security, stability, and a love so real it brings peace. This is "I saw it and I knew it." It's your home in the form of a person pile 3.

💌♡✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚Thank you for reading and let me know if it resonated!💌♡✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚

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l0s3rd0wnt0wn · 2 days ago

Note

You know what we never see, neglected reader who is damn near bruce's age. Technically if you think about it you can really have kids at any age, so why people only make him pump it and dump it only when is in his 30s and 40s is crazy to me. If Bruce has I kid at 18 and he is in his late 40s , reader could be in their 30s and be the oldest of the batkids. Especially if reader has gone their whole life never knowing bruce until know or known them in the last couple of years.

Reader is a grown ass adult, whom bruce and the family have no real authority over considering their age. The audacity of batfamily as well, y'all are really out here bullying a grown adult like?????? Honesty if they wanted to they could just leave, like for real. Also technically speaking, if reader is near bruce's age, then most of the boys neglected reader is paired with romantically would be considered significantly younger, and I don't think reader would really date youger than themselves.

But you know who they could date, the league. Reader might be slightly younger but it wouldn't be considered an inappropriate age gap like we be seeing here on this damn app. Anyone only the Justice League is free game for her. God could you imagine what Bruce feel if he ever caught one of his own colleagues was shaking up with his oldest kid, especially if it was somone like Wonder Woman or Superman, the two people he is closest to.

I LOVE THIS IDEA OVERWORKED ADULT!READER

Just thinking about a reader who is an overworked office worker at Wayne Enterprises, the same company that Bruce owns, without knowing that Bruce Wayne is their biological father. They go through years of their lives not really knowing their dad and not really caring, like Father's Day was just another Mother's Day to them, or they would give Father's Day presents to their uncles or grandpa. They never really cared to know their dad and never really cared to even see him. Their mom said he was just a feeling that she had when she was 18; it wasn't too important, and she can hardly remember. But then again, who forgets Bruce Wayne? At that time, he wasn't the infamous playboy, just a hurt rich kid with too much eyeliner. Bruce wasn't even aware of their existence until now.

Just think about it: you're going out on a daily walk in Gotham Park when all of a sudden you run into Dick and his cute little dog, Haley. You play around with the puppy for just a while before you go back on your walk. Dick is practically blushing because, wow, you're so good with animals and you're so kind and nice—not to mention you remind him of somebody, but he can't put his finger on it. The next thing you know, you run into Tim, who's having trouble with the vending machine. You teach the kid a small trick: hitting the vending machine at least three times on different sides, and boom, energy drinks fall out. You hand him the other one while walking away, and he thinks you're the coolest person to ever step foot on this Earth. You catch Damian sketching in the park and compliment him on his artistic skills. He never cared for silly compliments, but yours felt so real, so kind and genuine.

You meet Steph Batgirl; you both are ordering the same combo meal just for you to say, "Jinx, you owe me a soda!" Being playful, she gets you an extra Sprite. You accidentally drop your wallet, and Cass picks it up. She doesn't say anything, so it makes you think that she's mute or deaf, so you end up signing "thank you" to her. She's over the moon, ecstatic even. Duke is complaining about how his favorite coffee shop is out of matcha drinks. You end up buying matcha—a stupid trend—and you give him your drink. He's left flustered, struggling to say thank you.

At the bar, you're out with some coworkers drinking until you and your work crew are singing "99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall." Jason, who's at the same bar, catches you. He thinks your drunk expressions are pretty cute, and they all share the same experiences they had that day with each other. They figure out they met the same person, surprisingly similar to Bruce. They also list key traits like how you're tall, your long dark hair, your tired eyes, your slumped posture, and your amazing charm, which managed to make them become yanderes in under a minute. They share this information with Bruce, who's completely confused as to why all of his little birds would be obsessed with you.

He finally sees you in the office, snoozing over a pile of paperwork. He has paternal feelings towards you, wanting to wrap you in his thousand-dollar suit coat. He puts it over your shoulders and takes the workload off of you. The next thing you know, he's reading into your files, trying to learn everything and anything about you, just to know that you've been working here for three years. He learns that even though you do an exceptional job, your mother is the old flame he had during his first years as Batman. He takes a piece of your DNA—an energy drink you've been chugging down your throat—just to realize that you are his blood. But how can he just step into your life without you even knowing him? Any of the Birds stepping into your life without you regarding them— to you, they're just a bunch of strangers that you've had silly moments with; to them, you're family. I have a hunch that they knew you for years, at least more than the big sibling that somehow managed to run away.

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demie90s · 3 days ago

Text

She Never Touched You

Paige Bueckers x You

MASTERLIST | MORE

Summary: She looked at you like you were hers. Spoke to you like she’d been waiting. Touched you like no one else ever could. But hey…

Word Count~ 0.8k

Genre: Obsession. Possession. Control. (Not everything is what it seems.

Warnings: Delusion, fixation, false memory, psychological unraveling.

She always says my name like she owns it.

Soft around the edges, slow at the end. Like she’s tasting it before she lets it go. And every time she says it, I feel like I’ve been chosen. Picked out of a lineup and kept like something rare.

“You okay?” she asks like she already knows I’m not. “You blinkin’ hard as hell.”

“I’m fine,” I lie, because the truth is stupid. The truth is: I’ve been staring at her. Again.

Paige smirks like she caught me mid-thought. She stretches her arms out behind her, leans back on the couch like she’s at home in my space, like it’s hers now, and maybe it is. She’s wearing my hoodie—stolen, never returned, sleeves rolled up over toned forearms like she owns the whole damn room. One leg tucked under the other, socks mismatched, braid draped over her shoulder.

She looks like she just rolled out of bed and still somehow manages to look better than anyone should. She’s not even trying. She never has to.

“Seriously, though,” she says, raising an eyebrow, “you got a staring problem or you just in love?”

“I’m not in love,” I say way too fast.

“Mhm.” She taps her foot against mine. “Liar.”

I roll my eyes. She kicks me again—playful, light, persistent. Then leans forward, body shifting closer until her knee brushes mine. When she looks at me like this—head tilted, smirk soft—it feels like the floor underneath me gives just a little.

“I think you’re obsessed,” she says.

“I’m not.”

She smiles. “You are.”

Then she climbs into my lap like it’s her seat, arms draped over my shoulders, voice near my ear. I can smell her shampoo—coconut and lavender. Feel the weight of her legs over mine. Her hands rest on my chest like they belong there.

“You let me do this every time,” she says.

“Do what?”

“Be close to you. Touch you like this. Say shit you don’t stop.”

I try to say something back, but her hand comes up and cups my jaw, thumb brushing the corner of my mouth. Her gaze doesn’t leave mine. Not for a second. It’s unblinking. Intent.

“You’re not gonna stop me now,” she says, voice so low it hums through my ribs. “Are you?” I shake my head. Barely. She kisses me.

It’s not the kind of kiss that’s rushed or messy or impatient.It’s quiet. Focused. Like she’s holding something in. Like she’s making sure I feel it exactly how she wants me to.

Her lips are soft, and her hands move slow. She kisses me like she’s scared I’ll forget. Like she’s imprinting herself into my mouth. Into my skin.

“I should ruin you,” she whispers against my cheek.

“You already did,” I breathe, and I don’t even mean to say it out loud.

She just laughs, real quiet. Not surprised.

Later, she tries to do my hair.

Paige sits behind me on the floor, legs around my waist, fingers tugging through my curls like she knows what she’s doing. She doesn’t. She keeps twisting pieces, then giving up, then starting over. But she’s focused, tongue poking the corner of her mouth, brows furrowed in concentration like this is a real assignment.

“You’re so bad at this,” I say.

She hums. “Don’t care. I’m being romantic.”

“Romantic would be not pulling my hair out.”

“Nah, romantic is letting me try.”

She leans forward and presses a kiss to the side of my neck. Then another. Then one behind my ear that lingers too long. Her hands stay tangled in my hair while her lips move slow.

I let her. I always do.

She sings in the car like she’s the only one who exists.

It’s bad. Like really bad. Off-key. Loud. Overcommitted to the runs. And I should be annoyed—but I’m not. She’s laughing. Rapping a Doja verse with confidence she didn’t earn. Sunglasses too big on her face, hand on the wheel, leg bouncing to the beat.

“Tell me I’m good,” she says through a smirk.

“You’re loud.”

“Loud and sexy. You’re welcome.”

I shake my head, but I’m smiling. She knows I’m smiling. At the red light, she leans over and kisses my cheek.

“Stop looking at me like that,” she says.

“Like what?”

“Like you love me or something.”

I look down. Her hand finds mine on the center console. Fingers lace through mine like it’s muscle memory. She squeezes, then says it:

“I love you.”

I don’t question it. Because of course she does. Because how could she not?

Later, when she holds me—on the couch, in her car, outside the gym in the backseat with the windows fogged—I let myself believe this is what it means to be wanted.

Really wanted.

Her arms around me are tight. Strong. She kisses the top of my head. Tells me I smell good. Calls me baby without thinking. Reaches for me in silence like I’m the habit she couldn’t shake if she tried.

“You’re all I want,” she says, and she means it.

But. She told me she didn’t want people knowing.

“It’s not like I’m ashamed,” she said, looking down, hands in the sleeves of her hoodie. “It’s just… I like having something that’s mine. Just mine.”

I nodded, even though I didn’t totally get it.

The first time she kissed me in public, it was in the parking lot behind the gym. No cameras. No teammates. Just the sound of her car cooling and her thumb against my jaw.

She kissed me like she was starving. Like she’d been waiting the whole day for this exact three minutes and couldn’t take another second.

When she pulled away, she smiled.

“You make me crazy,” she said, and I felt it. All of it. Every word.

Being with her was like playing a game no one else knew the rules to. We weren’t hiding. Not really. But we weren’t saying it either.

She’d whisper things under her breath in the back row during team meetings. Steal fries off my plate and kiss the corner of my mouth when no one was looking.

She kept my hoodie in her bag. My lotion in her car. My voice in her ears on bad nights when she couldn’t sleep.

I kept her in every version of my future and never told a soul. She liked it like that. Just us. Just ours. Sometimes she’d pull me into her lap and hum songs against my shoulder.

Sometimes she’d make fun of my playlist and then add every single song to hers. Sometimes we’d sit on the kitchen floor with the lights off, just breathing.

And sometimes…she wouldn’t talk at all.

The first time we really fought, it was because I asked if she loved me when she was mad. Stupid, I know.

She was already tense—season stress, media shit, exhaustion—and I asked her something soft like it would help.

She looked at me too long.

“Why would you ask me that right now?”

“I don’t know,” I said.

She shook her head. “You don’t trust me?”

“I do.”

“Clearly not.”

I tried to pull her hand into mine but she stepped back.

“You don’t get to question that,” she said, voice tight. “Not after everything I’ve done to keep us.”

“I’m not questioning us—”

“Yes, you are.”

She wasn’t yelling. She never yelled. She just… stood there. Hurt. Quiet. Angry in that cold, still way that makes you feel like you’re not real.

“You think I don’t love you?” she whispered. “You think I’m just doing this for fun?”

I didn’t know what to say. So I said nothing. And that was worse.

She turned away. Grabbed her jacket. The keys on the counter.

“You don’t get it,” she said softly. “You never really did.”

“Paige.”

She didn’t turn around. Just one more breath.

We don’t talk after that night. Not really.

There’s no loud ending. No slammed doors. No screaming in driveways. She just stops showing up in the ways that matter. Stops laughing at my jokes. Stops reaching for me when I’m near. And I don’t fight it. I don’t ask her to stay.

I think I wanted her to love me hard enough to stay on her own. And she didn’t.

It starts small. She replies late. Doesn’t call back. Says she’s tired a lot. Says she’s “just dealing with stuff.” I try to give her space without making her feel the gap. I don’t want her to think I’m suffocating her. But all that space? She fills it without me.

I stop bringing her up in conversation. People ask, and I just shrug. We’re fine. She’s just busy. She’s just tired. We’re fine. I say it until I almost believe it.

And then one day, she’s tagged in a post. Some blurry photo of her at a restaurant. Not the team. Not the coaches. Just her—and a girl I don’t recognize.

The girl’s hand is in hers.

That’s it. No soft goodbye. No closure. Just a photo on my feed and the weight in my stomach that tells me I knew this was coming. I knew.

She moves on.

And not in a cruel way. Not in a “look what you lost” kind of way. She just… does. Quietly. Completely.

I stop listening to the songs she liked. I stop walking past her building. I stop keeping her name in my drafts.

But she still shows up.

In the back of my throat when I’m trying not to cry.

In the mirror when I catch myself wearing the hoodie she left in my room. In the silence between texts that feel too dry to care about anymore.

She still exists in all the places I don’t talk about.

And I think that’s what hurts the most. She didn’t leave me angry. She didn’t leave me broken.

She just left. And she never came back.

But you’re still here. And that’s the problem.

Because nothing after this point is for you. This is where it changes. This is where you were supposed to leave.

She never came back. Because she was never yours. She was never even here. But you are. And now I can’t stop thinking about that. You’ve been imagining her longer than I have.

You read all those other stories and still came here.

She’s out there breathing. You’re here rotting.

@letsnowtalk @draculara-vonvamp @kcannon-1436-blog @let-zizi-yap @perksofbeingatrex @soapyonaropey @julieluvspb @non3ofurbusiness @kcannon-1436-blog @kaliblazin @liloandstitchstan @footy-lover264

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tyunningism · 3 days ago

Text

Come on Don't Leave Me

── .✦ pairing: c.bg x reader

You've been attached to Beomgyu by the hip since forever- there's a special attachment between the two of you which can't be described through meagre words and that's why the two of you were so loveable together; blooming in to the naivety of a budding relationship. Yet he suddenly leaves everything behind anyways, radio-silence, leaving you wandering alone in your small hometown until he returns years later with another woman by his side.

...or in simple words...ᴇx!ʙᴇᴏᴍɢʏᴜ x ᴇx!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ (+ h.k. mention)

ᝰ.ᐟ wc - 16.1k words

mentions !! and warnings !! - Lots of angst, open ending + break ups, mentions of death, Beomgyu's a dick for a part of it el oh el, arguing + degrading comments, minor wound on finger, Beomgyu smokes, cheating accusations but not proved, small fractions of reader x huening kai, mentions of genetic medical condition (muscular dystrophy),slut-shaming, speeding (lmk if there's anymore I need to add because this is long and not proofread).

tyunningism's note: had the sudden change of heart to write a longer angsty fic, originally wanted to cap it at 8k but i got lost in making the plot a bit crazy and reached twice that. I doubted myself a lot in writing this because I think my writing was a bit inconsistent and sloppy at time but hopefully it was worth the wait!!

"You know I like you right?"

"Duh, you can't not love me if you've stuck by my side even after I've pissed your bed like every sleepover."

"No, I'm being serious, I like you."

You watch his adam's apple bob in his throat, the way the mischief in his eyes fade like he's matured from his boyish annoying act that he pesters you with every second of the day; he lifts his head just slightly to search for something in your gaze but his mouth is zipped shut, the silence deafening.

You've just confessed your diehard feelings to the biggest blessing and pain in your ass for the past 12 years and Choi Beomgyu can't even give you an answer back?!!

A grunt escapes from your lips at his dumbfound expression, suddenly wanting to bury yourself alive in the very bed room you basically co-lived in together.

"Ugh forget I even said anything."

Falling back on to the outgrown mattress on your bed you refuse to face the literal bane of your existence now as you dangled your feet off the too-small bed you both used to share as kids. He rested his head against where your feet laid, criss crossed on the ground and boring holes in to your bedroom's ceiling.

It wasn't the best time to confess you'd admit- especially when five minutes ago you both were pissing yourselves laughing watching cringy vlogs you both documented on an ancient ipad from god knows how long ago. You just slightly hoped that you'd have both overcome the embarrassment phase at this stage of your friendship after years of going to the same school and clubs and holidays, snotty crying sessions and heated arguments.. enough to be transparent with each other's feelings you thought at least. So you're unsure why his silence disturbs you so much, because it shouldn't. His rejection shouldn't make you feel so stupid for even risking to confess your minor feelings right now.

The awkwardness was starting to linger in the air around you suffocatingly, reaching out to pull the duvet over your head before a meek voice broke the initial tension.

"Can I give you my answer now?-" Your eyes blink hard.

"What?!!"

Chaos followed when you sprang up from your bed nearly knocking yourself out cold on his head, who is now directly facing you breathing in staggered intervals. "Shit Gyu don't scare me like-"

He smothers a hand over your mouth to keep you quiet, instantly causing you to furrow your brows at his impulsive action, ready to start kicking at him for even attempting to shut you up, waiting for him to start laughing the shit out of you.

But you’re wrong, so wrong. Because within seconds he leans in to close the gap between you a little bit more, ever so slightly leaving enough space for you to feel his breath fanning on to your skin.

And to whichever relationship guru he must've searched on the corners of reddit to learn this from- it's working because your brain short circuits on the spot, hands clammy and clenching on to the strings of fabric on your shirt.

You felt it.

The softness of his lips on yours for a short second of bliss enough to drive you insane. The taste of cherry coke laced and latched on his lips that lingered on yours for mere seconds after.

"My answer," He smiles bashfully while tucking stray strands of hair behind your ears.

Suddenly feeling hot and unable to meet his gaze you jump at the sound of his signature boisterous laughter breaking the initial romance of the moment, "I'm shitting myself I can't believe I just did that, can't believe I finally get to have you."

And it’s like your nerves drop. He’s back to the same happy-go-lucky spirit and the same Beomgyu you’ve always known him as (except more affectionate) as he pounces on top of you, immediately getting to work with peppering small fleeting kisses all over your reddening face.

"I can't believe even a shithead like you can have feelings like that… I really thought you were going to reject me then and there Gyu.." you joke lightheartedly.

Assuming he would take it lightheartedly you glance up to see his expression; but he avoids eye contact again, instead choosing to pick at his finger nails.

"I promise you, if I didn't love you you can consider me dead.”

Beomgyu has always been loving despite his antics; even now, at the ring of the bell he rushes out of his homeroom first just so he can walk back with you to the shared club room the two of you have slumped around in during lunch break for years.

Entering without a knock you greet your mutual friends casually with Beomgyu following close behind, an arm snaked around your waist and his chin stunted on the centre of your head.

“You two are so gross, it’s like incest at this point.” The familiar sight of Yeonjun’s outgrown hair and body sprawled across the stained couch of the club room made you grimace all the while shooting him a quick middle finger.

Beomgyu chimes inexplicably fast- eager for any chance to argue with Yeonjun- the laughter bubbling from him made your heart skip a beat each time- not that you’d ever tell him that in case you’ll boost his ego further to the moon than it already has.

“Where’s the little one? Haven’t seen him at all today. Ugh I told him I wanted to go for band prac too.” His groans are music to Yeonjun’s ears, who lets out a chuckle before pointing towards the boy huddling to himself in the corner - zipped up in a hoodie with his back turned to everyone.

You tap lightly on his shoulder before speaking gently, “How’s the new hair for the band Kai? Hm?”

“I bet it’s horrible, like bright green or something”

“Shut up gyu,” Kai hisses before reluctantly revealing the flashy blue head of hair he dyed with cheap box dye and immediately looked sullen the moment he saw the shock in your faces. “I know it’s too bright..I’m just hoping it’s gonna fade out.”

The first person to react is your boyfriend who is scrambling behind boxes and shelves of magazines and small trinkets, random snack packaging and left over hoodies before finally emerging back out of the stack of junk with a small digital camera.

“This one’s for Kai’s new hair style !! You’ll take a photo of us right jjun ??” He giggles melodically, the kind that’s hard to miss and sounds in your head on repeat minutes after.

You really liked Choi Beomgyu.

And you’re sure he loved you and everyone around him too. Despite the forefront he likes to mimic himself as loud and silly- you knew Beomgyu better than anyone else could.

Especially his small habit of wanting to document everything with people he loved the most: Kai growing up, his vacations with his family to beach resorts, questionable photos of yeonjun, his music and lyrics, little snippets of Toto, and you.

He never stopped documenting you. Whether it was making sure that he’d take a photo whenever you had time with each other or when you weren’t there he would call just to hear and record your voice to listen to later.

Beomgyu has always been thoughtful and ambitious. Often complaining about how much he wants to leave the small town to pursue his own band with Kai, who although is more reluctant, can’t help but say yes to him.

Maybe it was the time that you sat down with him at a small brunch spot for a date that you realised his own liveliness stemmed from his passion for music, his head bopping a long to the silky sound of rnb resonating through out the cafe.

“You really do like your music stuff don’t you Gyu?” You ponder, lips wrapping ‘round your straw again for a sip of your mango cooler in mid spring.

Your boyfriend only responds with a hum before giving a sweet smile, he grips the handle of his mug with both hands like he’s reflecting on something, something deeper starting to brim in his eyes.

“I’ve been really in to these kinds of songs lately. I’ve been working on a few projects, wrote a couple of lyrics about..you know, us.

Kai said he’ll compose everything in time for Summer for our second anniversary, I wanted it to be special so I even got his sisters to help. And while I was writing the lyrics I thought about this a lot . If we were to never meet, if we didn’t connect so quickly, if we didn’t bicker and cry together, if we never fell in love with each other. And I know it’s out of character for me to be so open but we’re graduating high school soon and I’ve always wanted to start a band. Everyone knows that. But I hate change, I hate the thought of leaving such a big part of us behind and with Kai too, he’ll be alone in that club room-our club room- when we’re gone too. But if there’s anything that does change I don’t want it to be us. I like how everything is right now..I think I’d rather die if it wasn't like this, honestly."

Maybe it was when you realised how much time you really had spent together.

Beomgyu had always been the same boy you first met; toothy grin and loud shouting whenever something didn’t go his way. You notice it now too in the way he’d pout whenever he’d notice tomatoes in his mom’s cooking, desperate to moan and groan, or after a date when he’d cling on to you and pepper a couple of kisses on your face before pulling you in to the tightest hug of your life as if you would escape from his grasp if he let go, or when he’s excited and really at his happiest- the way he’d unleash his signature laugh in excitement.

There was a charm to him that you always looked forward to every morning when you stepped out of the door to be greeted by the same face you’ve grown accustomed to since the start of time, stood waiting so you could spend every ounce of time together even if it was stupid small-talk.

"Yeah, I shouldn't have skipped sports class.. Mr Kim's going to give me an earful.."

"If I skip my first class today then we can both get a detention, then it wouldn't be so bad because you have the glorious, amazing, handsome Gyu right with you, right?"

There's a mutual pining for these kinds of conversations between you, it made your relationship 1000x more authentic, more human, more filled with understanding and love.

And then you hurry out of the door on the first day of summer, muttering the usual ‘morning Gyu!!’ to an unusual silence that welcomed itself on your porch.

Like you were talking a ghost, the bench sunken in to the grass of your front yard where he usually rested before you were ready to walk to school remained empty. None of the usual strum of music leaking through his head phones nor the feeling of the warmth that radiated from him.

It wasn’t unusual for him to be late or sick and skip out on a day of school but the unnerving feeling in your gut wouldn’t let you rest, as if something had gone terribly wrong, as if something had formed a climax in your life that you weren't even aware of yet.

So you trod to school alone in the scorching heat; the sliding of doors to your home room signalling the cluster of gossip and muttering to drown itself out as you slump over your desk, waiting for Beomgyu to message you about how he was feeling or if he overslept.

But the message never came.

In fact, he halted from showing up to school at all. His spot on the couch in your club room felt emptier than ever and the dread in your heart would only gape harder when he’d refuse to pick up your calls, the small time together you both used to treasure so dearly, let alone Yeonjun or Kai’s calls.

And no one reported him missing or filed in a report for a dead body in your small town; everyone got the hint when they’d walk by his house and the lights would remain turned off, when his parents didn’t come by with a basket of peaches from their backyard, when the small remnants of life started to fade without the Chois in the home they've lived in for decades.

It was like he never existed. Like he vanished mid-air.

There was no way to understand it; how one moment he would be cuddling with you in bed to the tranquil of the matching music boxes your parents had gifted you , and the next it would be complete radio silence, not a single voice mail or message from him.

The first time you cried after his disappearance occurred when you visited his home hoping he was merely unwell from a stupid summer cold that he always caught year after year. Kai had tagged behind like he knew you’d bawl your eyes out the moment you saw the polaroid photos you had taken together on your first date sticking out of the trash like a sore thumb upon heaps of waste and old toys and pans.

A smack to your face. That’s what it truly felt like seeing the way he grouped you with useless junk, like the lifetime you spent together meant nothing to him apart from a way to pass time and entertain himself. The flimsy film of paper waving back at you mockingly in the wind for even thinking for a split second that he would've thought about you before going MIA.

In the next few moments everything that came out of your mouth ranged from sobbing to incoherent cursing and tears rushing down your cheeks and on to Kai’s shoulder. You cursed at Choi Beomgyu like he had murdered your entire bloodline, you cried until you physically couldn’t strain your throat to wail anymore and you clutched on to Kai to fill the gap in your heart- substituting the void Choi Beomgyu had abandoned.

Still, you’d wake up every morning a bit earlier and linger by your door step a little longer just in case he’d show up again like he used to do.

Every. Single. Day.

But it was a one-man show every time you'd spend lunch in the noticeably duller club room on Yeonjun's phone attempting to ring him or his parents.

"Look, stop being a fool you've been ringing up his phone for a week and there's no answer. Fuck knows where he's at?"

You know Yeonjun's right, but you can't let go go of the slim chance that possibly he would pick up.

With no updates from Choi Beomgyu nor his parents, slowly he’d fade away from the scene of your upside down life that he'd left without warning.

The second time you cried so exhaustingly was the first winter without him when it was starting to show signs of frost- the flimsy thin blanket needing to be exchanged for a warmer duvet. Which of course had to be situated under the frameworks of your bed that strikes a hassle to reach as you hovered your hand over boxes of clutter and old treasures you’ve kept since you were young.

What you thought you were taking out to be a box stuffed with your winter duvet turned out to be a box bedazzled with striking bold letters, ‘Y/N and Beomgyu’s time capsule’, and poorly cut out cheesy photos of holding hands and playful cheek kisses plastered all over the lid.

Usually after a couple months of Beomgyu disappearing from your life and slowly adapting to a life without him you would cease to acknowledge anything that reminded you of him; knowing it will only pain you more. Though, you’re still healing from his unexplained absence, to this day you still didn’t know if he was even alive let alone avoiding you, so you can’t bring yourself to throw away the only bits you have left of him, the only evidence that he wasn’t purely fiction- that he really did exist in your life.

Uncovering the lid of the time capsule revealed your photographs from the rollercoaster you both screamed your hearts out on, the picnic in the hills by your homes in a spot no one else knew about except you and him, and the photo-booth strips of the both of you pulling stupid faces at the camera with props adorned all over your heads.

You’re unsure of what it was about the contents inside that really struck you with uncontrollable tears and wallow; possibly the naivety plastered on your face while you giggled, the moment of bliss frozen in time. More likely the anniversary gift you never had the chance to give him, a custom guitar pick you had bought for him engraved with your initials. Cheesy, but the thought of being so excited to pour your heart out on a gift you never got the chance to give lands your head buried in to your knees which were slowly becoming damp with tears.

The last time you ever let yourself cry so hard over Choi Beomgyu was at Kai’s house the following summer. Simply a call from him to visit before he leaves for Uni after he graduated. A soft knock on his door and it swung open, displaying to your eyes his cheerful expression that started to diminish in to a more solemn pitying glance once he saw you. It was evident he could tell you were still hurt and it was evident that whatever he was planning on handing over to you now probably wasn’t the best idea.

“What are you hiding from me, Kai?” A hand reaches up to scratch the back of his neck in self-conflict, unsure of whether or not to show whatever ‘forbidden’ item he had to you.

��I think you’re better off not having it actually, you don’t look so great right now Y/N.” He shies away from your stare knowing he’s hit a nerve. And something snaps in you because it only hurts you further that wherever you go the remains of his impact on you still show on your face, that no matter what you do to get over him people will always tie you back to him, like you can’t move on without being constantly reminded of what Choi Beomgyu once was to you.

“Show it to me Kai, please.” You hated to admit that you sound weak but you hated to admit more the way your face drops at the box he hands over to you. The box you, yeonjun, kai and choi beomgyu had kept in the club room filled with the sd cards of his digital camera and dvd cassettes of band practices.

“I figured you might’ve wanted them for safekeeping now that the club room’s been wiped of everything, I-I’ve got the dvd player going if you want to watch it, it would be nice to revisit those times.”

You nod gently before kicking your shoes off at the entrance and wandering in to his bed room where he kept his small figurines and boyish posters in trash bags ready to be disposed of.

"Kai, you really liked that show, why are you throwing all of your collectibles away?" There's a frown that only seems to become more extreme as you dig through the bag of old plushies and figurines he's kept since you first met him.

"I didn't want to throw them away at first, but I'm grown now..it's embarrassing to bring these with me to Uni.. you know that. And plus it's been ages since the club room fell apart, I matured a lot in that time too." Kai was always viewed as a little brother that you and Choi Beomgyu quote-on-quote 'raised', yet to see him now a fair few inches taller and more mature you can't help but feel shameful that everyone beside you has moved on already, leaving you stuck in the past in the club room with a playful Kai and Yeonjun, leaving you stuck with the craving of Choi Beomgyu's return behind.

Before your thoughts got to the worst of you the cassette was loaded by shaky hands and your glossy eyes fixed on to the static of the tv revealing a young Yeonjun, Kai, You and Choi Beomgyu in front of the camera- all laid out on the couch toppled and fanned over each other in a mess.

‘What’s this for gyu?’ You asked with a tongue stuck out at the camera.

‘He said it’s a secret. Who knows what he’s going to do with videos of me..” The older boy shudders at the thought jokingly which launches you both in to laughing and slapping Choi Beomgyu lightly on the back.

‘Well whatever it is, I’m sure Beomgyu hyung has his own reasons.’

‘Tbc’ flashes on the tv screen at the end which cues you to coo at how cute Kai was in these old outdated videos. Part of you wants to thank Choi Beomgyu for wanting to document all of this, especially when Kai slotted in the next cassette labelled ‘for her’

The video started with the light strumming of guitar (which you assumed was his own original piece) and Kai struggling to zoom in on his face, awkwardly fiddling with the camera before letting it rest at an angle.

‘Hi love,’

Two words. All that you wanted to hear in the past year and a bit without Beomgyu.

Two words from the voice that you’re slowly starting to forget.

‘I wanted to wish us a happy anniversary, to our second year of being together as a couple, and not just stuck to each other’s side. By the time you’re seeing this I would have gotten my hair cut already- it’s getting long now and I know you like it better when it’s neater so that it doesn’t get tangled in your rings I gifted you.

There’s a lot that I want to say: first how proud I am of you. I don’t think I got the chance to tell or show you how shocked I felt when you confessed to me out of the blue, I think you’re admirable really, even if you’re a bit lightheaded at times. Second, how much I love you. I’ve said this before loads of times but there’s never a time when i’m not thinking about you and never a time where I can imagine a future without you being part of it. You're so important to me to the point I feel guilty for not being able to be as great of a lover as you are to me. Back to the main point of this tape... I hope you remember my promise I made on that day; it’s special- okay? I’ve put a lot of effort in to preparing a song that I want to dedicate to us only... Kai and I haven’t decided a name on it yet but we wanted to name it after you, so happy anniversary beautiful, I love you.

Beomgyu out.‘

By the time the dvd ends with Choi Beomgyu singing the lyrics of a slow ballad he wrote for you, the locks that held your own emotional stability let the tears escape and fall from your eyes again- staining your shirt in the process,

you can’t grasp why he left when he dedicated so much time in to showing his love in his own discreet ways, what you did that was so terrible he couldn’t stand being with you anymore and where you went wrong.

There’s no logic in learning to move on from someone you loved so fulfillingly when you’ve spent over half of your life dependent on them. Could you even resent him? You wish you could..but for all you know he could be hurt, or he could be living his best life he's always dreamt of without you and you don’t know what’s arguably worse,

Because you can feel it, the distaste that remains on your tongue that gets stronger the more you start to resent him, a constant reminder of his own selfishness and a reflection of what he had turned you in to by leaving. Yet you can't bring yourself to hate him, not until you can get the closure on what made him want to leave what you had so desperately and never come back, not until you can see with your own eyes that he's alive and well.

Telling your self one thing.

That no matter what, you wouldn't be able to love Choi Beomgyu the same way again.

"Can you copy up some of the files I've sent you? Management needs it for a product showcase later." Sae whirls the mixture of warm milk and instant coffee in her mug mundanely before leaning on the counter of the rest station to complain to you about the intern she's supervising.

"I also need you to ask Kazuha if she can cover my shift on Monday, I've got plans with my boyfriend to go see the movies."

Your responses don't vary much outside of agreeing hums and polite nods but you enjoy being in Sae's presence, her long talks bringing some form of entertainment in your boring office job.

"Speaking of which, are you seeing anyone right now? Come onnn I know there has to be someone who has the hots for you in the department. Oh and plus you have the high school reunion that Kai's been begging you to go for the past month !! What do you think of Kai?? Doesn't he give you that puppy-dog kind of vibe?? I think you should try-"

The stern tone in your voice cuts her off immediately,

"It's fine Sae really..I'm not that in to functions anyways and Kai's like a bro-"

A head of brunnete hair peeps in to the door of the rest station, grinning ear-to-ear to which makes you roll your eyes in exhaustion.

"Did I hear you talking about me?? Does this mean you're considering coming to the reunion with me? Pretty please Y/N-"

"For the last time no, Kai, you know I don't like going to these sorts of things." You shrug and look back at Sae who's busy making melodrama scenarios in her head, visibly geeking at the thought of you and Kai.

"But Yeonjun hyung will be there, he's coming back from Seoul, you wanna see him too right?" Kai pleads.

"Yeah, listen to Kai ! Go to the function ! Go to the function !"

Truth be told, you don't want to be back there. You don't want to revisit the people who saw you at your lowest 5 years ago when he first left you, it irks you to think back on it. But it's so rare to see Yeonjun who only revisits your small hometown once or twice a year, especially when he's now thriving running a successful dance school and creating choreographies for record labels, he doesn't even have time to message you or Kai with how busy he is- so you know how important it is to show up when he has time.

Sighing, you give in to their pleas and agree on a time for Kai to pick you up from your apartment. You couldn't imagine him or Sae happier as she shoos you back to your desk to finish your piles of work on time for her to plan an outfit and prepare you for your 'biggest event in months', forcing you to type away spreadsheets of work until your fingers ached and swelled.

Surprisingly Sae's advice (forcing you) to finish work quickly kept handy as you submitted in your last document. The week flashed by in an instant and now at 2.pm on a Saturday you were ready to clock off.

The tapping of your heels echoed behind as you walked outside of the building's entrance to wait for Kai's jeep to roll up, giving you time to think.

Something really minor that you noticed was Kai's shift in attitude towards going to the reunion as if a week ago he wasn't begging at your feet to accompany him, to avoiding any talk about the reunion; instead circling around the idea of just going to a bar with Yeonjun as the three of you. You brush it off as Kai overly worrying for your own wellbeing which only makes you want to prove yourself to him more by going, hoping to save some face.

And still when you enter the quiet space of his car and lean against the back rest he asks you again,

"are you sure you still wanna go? I feel like I've forced something on to you that you're uncomfortable with.." the only thing you can focus on is the subtle frown his lips have automatically formed and the quieter voice he uses when he's upset or overly guilty over nothing.

"I'm sure Kai," you chuckle lightheartedly, " I think we should get going to my place or else Sae's going to give us an earful for locking her out."

The attempt to lighten the mood works because the ride home is smoother with small-talk between you and the younger male blabbing on about company gossip and badmouthing some of the classmates that had scandalous school lives who might be showing up to the reunion.

Conversations come to an end when he parks outside of your apartment to give a quick thumbs up that he'll be there to collect you in about 3 hours. Sae's quick eye runs down the flight of stairs to hug and spin you around in excitement-

"You didn't back out this time girl!! Come on come onnn, open the door I want to show you the outfit I prepared." You cringe at all sorts of outfit combinations coming in to mind; analysing her own personal style the key accessory to the outfits you think she's planned for you is a bralette and optionally a skirt and underwear and bangles- nothing that you'd really like to show up in to a high school reunion.

Jangling your keys to unlock the doors to your apartment Sae dashes to your bed before pulling out strips and bits of fabric and patterns and dresses out of her pocket-sized designer bag. Assuming she's been gifted a lot by her boyfriend and spending her promotion pay on a new wardrobe you can only admire at the rows of meticulously planned outfits suited for the reunion, and finally you can understand why she's so highly praised in the office as a fashion goddess.

Once your three hours are up and your eyes are starting to dry from the mascara you've applied in a rush you scurry downstairs with Sae following behind snapping a couple pictures for 'memories'.

You were dressed head to toe in a sleek white cardigan and a miniskirt, wielding a purse you had been gifted by Yeonjun on your birthday which adorned your bracelets. Kai's already leaned against his car in a beige flannel and tank paired with loose jeans held up by a leather belt: his hair is lazily styled with volume mousse to accentuate a couple of his brunette curls.

"W-Woah..Sae did a great job, you did too of course.. I like the uhh-lashes, they make you really stand out."

"I know right ?? She's practically glowing today !!" Sae giggles and rushes you into the passenger seat before pulling out a dangling necklace from her pocket.

Your heart drops.

"I saw it in the jewellery box earlier, I think the gold will really compliment your top!!!"

Of course, you don't dare to ruin her high spirits that the necklace she had just handed to you was your ex's first anniversary gift; a small pendant containing a diamond which rested between your collar bones as she clasped it on. You didn't want to project your own insecurities and sound immature by crying over a necklace your ex had given you when realistically it should mean nothing but a simple accessory to you now considering he's been a ghost for 5 years to you. So you let it dangle around your neck meaninglessly on the car ride to the restaurant the reunion was being hosted at.

Immediately upon entry the two of you are greeted with loud hollering and cheers from fuzzy faces you can barely piece together, Steve from your sciences, Yuna who was in the home room next to you and Sohyun who joined your maths class halfway through the year:

"Hey guys look who's here !! Kai and Y/N!! They really lucked it out with the club room..they used to sell candy and pirated games there remember?!!"

The memory makes you mentally facepalm as you greet the large group gathered already, 1-2 shots in to the night and laughing and conversing as you make your way to sit down at two empty seats with Kai facing Yeonjun and next to you.

"It's been a while you idiot, how's work goin'? The older male's voice booms louder than usual, already appearing to be slightly tipsier than usual before coddling at you and leaning over to squish your cheeks which you argue over 'ruining your base'.

"Rare seeing you at a place like this hm, did you come just to see me? God I raised you two so... well.." His speech started to slur as he took another sip out of his glass, the connotation of being the same level of maturity as Kai shakes you a bit, but if you were Kai you'd probably feel this way too when you talk about how cute and angel-like he was when he first knocked on your club room door- still a child in your eyes.

Yeonjun pours you a shot amidst the loud chatting and cheers from drinking games which leaves your head to zone out and tune in with the beat of the background cacophany of shrieks and chants, interrupted by the jingling of bells as the doors of the restaurant opens to reveal another face you doubt you'll recognise.

However your head doesn't cease to turn when the sudden loudness becomes nearly mute almost comedically before someone exclaims,

"What the fuck man!? Beomgyu's here too?"

You don't know how to explain what you feel next. A million thoughts and emotions flooding your head as you turn your head around almost shakingly to face the entrance of the restaurant where he stood: leaned back in a graphic tee and baggy jeans hung low around the drip of his waist, his jawline was sharper after gradually losing the baby fat in his face and now opted for black styled bangs instead of the mute shoulder length middle part he made his signature hairstyle through out your youth, noticeably taller and more masculine too specifically in his shoulders which are broader. It only makes you realise how much time has passed since you last saw him, it only makes you want to run up to him and wrap your arms around him and never let go in case he vanishes again before you know it. But the only thing you can focus on, and what everyone else can focus on, is the daintier hand eloped around his arm, a petite girl with pink dyed hair and ribbon pigtails, she was cute, awfully cute which only stirred unease deep inside you.

It's like instinct that the first thing you both do is search and analyse each other, eyes locking for a split second before he calmly dismisses the mass amounts of questions asking about where he's been all along and swerving over to sit snug next to a drunken Yeonjun, directly facing you.

"My mann, Gyu !! You showed up geez look at you now- nearly taller than me. I wanted to go out for drinkss together last time but.. you knoww I got called up by my director n' couldn't make it."

There's a wave of surprise that rushes through your blood in the way that Yeonjun converses with Choi Beomgyu- like they've been in contact daily for ages, and you- you didn't know about it.

"Listen up everyone, Gyu's been one of my closest friends since forever in high school, I recently got in touch with him in Seoul half a year ago so let's give a toast to him and his girlfriend Lilith, yeah?"

No one bothers to hide the gossiping and muttering evidently about you and Beomgyu's new girlfriend- pitying you for being left behind and unable to date someone new in this small town or comparing you to the younger girl by his side now. Your blood runs cold as you reach out for your cup for the toast before Kai sets your hand down, offering to toast for you instead.

If you didn't look in time you would've missed it. The twitch in his eye as he watched you and Kai exchange gestures together, not bothering to waste any time in asking Kai a question,

"Both of you are dead silent you know, don't ya miss me? Beomgyu?? Fuck man we've spent years together and none of you wanna speak up or ask me something? You two look real close."

The pride in his face makes your blood boil at the lack of consideration for the fact that he's been missing and ghosting you for 5 years only to return with an even more insensitive comment??!! All that wants to leave your mouth is a string of curses but Kai interrupts, clearing his throat,

"We're doing fine, better actually. You?"

Anyone who can see or hear can sense the rigid tension on your table as Yeonjun downs his shots away becoming drunker and more absent in the conversation.

"Oh really?" Beomgyu snaps back, "That's funny to hear..I've been doing good too, especially with Lilith by my side, we met at a company dinner and she's been a blessing ever since."

The contrast between the 'awwws and cooing at his relationship reveal and the nauseating feeling rising in the pit of your stomach makes you all the more sickly; watching him intertwine his fingers with hers to flash an engagement ring, a rock size a woman can only dream of, on Lilith's finger, not yours. You obnoxiously stare at the ring, a bit too long.

'When I start a successful band I'll make sure the first thing I do is buy you a ring, make sure everyone knows I'm yours.'

'Well I want a radiant shaped ring, think you can do that Mr. all bark no talk?" You giggle

You stare at the exact model dazzling on her finger, radiant and glistening under the ambient lighting of the restaurant. There's no appetite in you anymore, there's enough to stomach already as you watch Lilith giggle when Beomgyu whispers in her ear- it's jealousy that bubbles in you- ugly and disdainful. You feel sour for thinking this way- for wanting to believe that you should be in her place.

The anger and resentment that you've buried deep within you over the last 5 years tilts on edge, veins probably popping on your neck and hand with how tight you're clutching on to your purse.

Beomgyu is only amused by your reaction, a smug grin shamelessly written all over his face as he watches you tremble almost mockingly, degrading you with only his gaze which focuses on the inexpensive necklace his teen self had gifted you still resting around your neck in ridicule compared to the luxury ring around his new lover's finger.

"I'm Lilith in case you forgot, I really love your necklace- where'd you get it from lovely?"

Beomgyu cuts you off before you can get out your first words as if he knew you'd say something insensitive to his so-precious girlfriend,

"That's Y/N, you've heard about her." Your brow furrows at him as you watch the distinct difference in Lilith's body language; now instead of choosing to engage in conversation, is ignoring you and flaunting her affection for Beomgyu: running her fingers across his back and ruffling his hair lghtly, even going as far as to kissing him on the lips on full display in your direction to irritate you- to show that she's now the centre of his attention, that she's his muse.

And it works, greatly so because you can't bear with the humiliation being thrown on to you so explicitly. Within seconds you're unclasping your necklace and launching the edged metal directly towards Lilith's face aggravatingly followed by your untouched shot of alcohol causing her to shriek and flail which left the table in uproar. The chair screeches against the cold floor as you strut towards the door in anger,

"If you love my necklace so bad you can keep it because your cheater of a boyfriend gifted it to me anyways."

Regret settles in as you storm outside, you can just about hear Beomgyu and Kai arguing as you walk further and further away, drowning out the sound of your surroundings with your own thoughts, leaving you with black-dyed tears that started to run down your cheeks without you even realising it.

You're about to reach a red light when an arm yanks you hard with brute force,

"What the fuck has gotten in to you? We haven't seen each other in 5 years and now you wanna be a whining bitch?" Choi Beomgyu looks outraged and the grip on your arm only gets stronger at your silence.

"What do you think Beomgyu? Seriously I can't tell if you're playing stupid or if you really are fucked in the head. You leave me out of no where to move to God knows where to return 5 years later with a new fiancee? If I were any smarter I should've realised sooner how eager you were to move on to another woman behind my back. You didn't even try to answer or call me, you didn't even try to give me a reason for why you left and now you want to reenter the life I've gotten used to without you just to mock me right in my face that you've found someone new to toy with?"

There's no stopping the tears that fail to keep put in your tear ducts, constantly rolling out one-by-one as you avoid making eye contact with him knowing that you might just collapse in to sobbing again like you did when you first visited his house after he left.

"Look I didn't mean to mov-"

"Yeah because suddenly moving out of nowhere is a great excuse for you to ghost me for 5 years, I left everything the exact same as it is begging for you to contact me one day. Because suddenly moving out of nowhere somehow excuses our photos that you dumped in to the pile of trash outside of your house the week you left? How am I supposed to believe you even ever loved me when you couldn't even hide your disgust for me in the first place? Why did you even say yes to my confession if all you were going to do is leave me in the end anyways? What was the point Choi Beomgyu, fucking tell me?!!"

"How can I tell you if you're going to cut me off to bitch on about something irrelevant? I did love you for all I and everyone else knows I don't get why you're trying to make shit up when I put so much effort in to the relationship and this is what I get back? What? Because we're exes that gives you the excuse to humiliate my fiancee in front of strangers now, do you know how crazy and attached you look? It's been five years Y/N why can't you leave it as a mistake we made when we were young?"

Your sniffles only become obscenely louder as your eyes widen at his audacity to brush off his disappearance so lightly, as if you didn't waste months searching for him in every corner of the town, as if you didn't stay up all night trying to find out what could've happened to him, like you didn't matter to him as much as he mattered to you.

"You've changed too Y/N. Always refusing to come to these kinds of dinners and now you're clinging on to another man and trying to seduce others aren't you?

The silence triggers him to speak insensitively again,

"You're jealous, aren't you? You're so stuck in the past you can't let me go, you can't let us go, going so far to accuse me of cheating- it's been 5 years.. I'm sure you've been slutting yourself out to Kai while I was gone anyways so don't be all sensitive and crying now because I decided to move on," He kisses his teeth before speaking again, " We were never going to work out Y/N, we both know that. We were just experimenting as kids so don't get hung up on it and don't bother trying to interfere with my life now either. There's nothing between us."

Tears still continue to fall from your reddened eyes, the mix between a disappointed and angry expression on his face while he judges your crying only makes you cry harder, a hand reaching up to wipe your eyes and cover your face to avoid any more embarrassment.

Choi Beomgyu huffs and spins on his heel to head back towards the restaurant- probably to go comfort Lilith after the whole fiasco- before making one last remark with his back turned to you as he walks away,

"And I wasn't trying to ghost you by moving all of a sudden, I just didn't want to burden you with long distance, I didn't want to be such a fucking nuisance in your life like I am in everyone else's."

To that you muster up all the strength you have between hiccups and sobs to shout back at him,

"I never asked for you to love me back. I would've preferred if you had just told me straight up that you couldn't bear it Beomgyu. I waited every single day, for you to come back t. I watched the cassette tape you left for our second anniversary every night just to hear your voice because you were gone for so long I was starting to forget it. If anything you're all that I want to forget right now. Did you even bother to think about how I felt when you left?

For fuck's sake Beomgyu, " You sniffle,

"I thought you were dead..."

He stops in his tracks and for a minute you think the old Beomgyu would return, the Beomgyu that would write little love letters and slide them to you during lessons, the Beomgyu that would offer you a piggy-back ride home whenever your legs felt weak, the Beomgyu who would've given up the whole world just to be with you.

But he walks on, in silence, refusing to turn back around as he keeps direct on the path back to the restaurant.

Your fists clench as you scream at the top of your lungs loud enough to hear from the distance,

"Fine then. I'll consider you dead. The Choi Beomgyu I know would rather die than be shit like you."

Rain started to downpour heavily almost cinematically as you crouched in the middle of the side walk unable to move from the spot that changed everything. With your tear stained face buried in to your neck you crouch, hoping that at some point you'll wake up from a bad dream. But there's anything but peace in your head right now to even fall asleep, his words constantly ringing in your head; "We were never going to work out." a constant reminder of how naive you were for bothering to confess your feelings in the first place.

Although suddenly the rain stopped even as it continued to pitter-patter all around you. Moving your neck to see an umbrella with Kai crouched under it too to meet you at eye-level.

"Fuck don't look Kai it's embarrassing-"

"Cry. I feel like you pent up all your feelings nowadays and it's hard to see you vent out these emotions even to me. It's okay to cry, I promise there's no judgement in me, Y/N. We can stay here for a bit, you can cry all you want, I'll listen."

The brunette removes his flannel to drape around you to prevent you from catching a cold, a warm hand holding on to yours as he waits patiently.

"Kai, do you think I'm selfish?"

His eyes widen before returning back to normal at your question, immediately reaching to comfort you as you sobbed all over Sae's shirt.

"I think you're more selfless than anyone I've ever met, in fact I think that jerk is the selfish one, could he give up 5 years of his life to wait for anyone that he loves?"

And it's like your wails never stop until you reach your apartment at half 1 in the morning, Kai carrying you up the stairs to your flat after spending nearly two hours talking and consoling you in the rain, you were bound to both be ill tomorrow, but all that he can focus on is his own guilt.

He should've told you that he would've been there.

He should've never dragged you to the reunion in the first place.

So he does what's logical to him, send Yeonjun a quick message.

You: What made you think it was a good idea to invite him? You knew she would've been upset by it.

Yeonjunnie: It's about time that she moves on, she needs that exposure or else she'll be dreading it the rest of her life.

Yeonjunnie: The hangover's starting 2 kick in, i'll msg you later

You: You know it was wrong of you to do this, to set her up like that.

You: We'll talk another time.

Groggily you wake up in your bed in the same clothes reeking of alcohol as you did yesterday, rubbing your eyes to clear your vision only to spot a sleeping Kai resting at the edge of your bed.

You've never been more grateful for the younger boy beside you, he truly felt like your last resort at this point, he really lived up to his nickname; angel.

The buzzing of the phone and the flood of messages trying to instigate something out of the act you put on last night makes you groan in frustration, desperate to rip your hair out in shame. Why on earth would you pull a stunt like that? Now everyone thinks you're obsessed with this lousy Choi Beomgyu and his girlfriend!!

Little did you know the whole of last night Beomgyu couldn't rest either. Constantly arguing non-stop with Lilith at the hotel they booked. He's been arguing with her almost daily ever since they got together out of convenience. From the moment his dad had fallen in to huge debt and was forced to move in to Seoul to work under Lilith's family to repay it, he's been ushered in to trying to make connections between their families ever since. Especially with his mom's sudden illness from stress, hooked up to the machines and needing vital treatment, he knows better than anyone else that he'd be unable to leave you with such overwhelming news, instead choosing to settle his debts with Lilith- who's giving him an earful all the time.

"Ugh she- she's not even your fiancee Gyu !! I am !! Did you really have to humiliate me by making even more of a scene chasing after your ex-girlfriend like a lost dog? I had strangers comfort me because my own boyfriend couldn't!!"

Beomgyu cusses under his breath before leaning over the balcony with a cigarette between his lips- a bad habit he had picked up in order to escape from the petty arguments his 'fiancee' always wanted to pick, the whole engagement ‘act’ made him want to puke in revolt.

A part of him shattered when he saw you crying for the first time in 5 years because of him. So deeply wretched and hurt by his words that he said out of anger, spouted out of spite.

Beomgyu can never find balance in himself; he's always felt like a burden to the people around him, he knows that if you saw the habits he picked up while working to pay back the debt his family owed you'd be hurt even more.

He's become insensitive trash. Visible in the differences between the two of you as you both matured so distinctively. You didn’t change at all, you still kept on to fragments of him, the tape recordings, the necklace, everything, and he felt like shit. Forced to take family photos and attend business dinners with a woman he despises, his dad slaving away for her family who trapped them in to debt in the first place and a mom who he couldn’t even talk to for the first 2 years of moving because she was so ill from shock. There’s no escape from the fact that he’s practically useless to everyone around him.

So he thought, he thought that you would be better off with someone unlike him- someone like Kai who could deal with his own issues much better than he can and still prioritise and love you without hurting you like he does because of his own incompetence.

And he regrets it so so much, how vile he was insulting you when he would never dream of even muttering those words to you in any universe, becoming too extreme to even slut shame you when he knows you're the purest person at heart, he knows you better than anyone.

He at least knew you better than anyone. But he knows he's fucked it all up to apologise to you now, cut too deep to ever rekindle the love he still has for you…he's gone too far with his hateful words.

"Are you even listening to me?!"

"Let's break it off."

"What??"

"The engagement, let's break it off. The debt's been paid off hasn't it?"

"Are you seriously pulling this because you saw your old teenage girlfriend at a reunion? Are you fucking kidding me Gyu- she threw her drink on me!!"

"It’s not like we’re engaged out of love anyways. I'd never spare a look in the direction of someone in the likes of you. My mom's last treatment session is this Friday, so there's no need for us to stay is there?" He scoffs blatantly, taking a drag out of his cigarette- a bad habit he'd picked up on that he knows you'd hate.

The smoke ascends in to the current of cold air, ashes from the burnt edge dusting off on to the marble of the hotel balcony."Tell me what she said to you today Beomgyu ?? What did she say that makes you not want to marry me anymore- thi-this is outrageous are you insane??" Lilith crosses her arms and leans against the door of the balcony, irritated by Beomgyu's silence with his back towards her.

"Hah? What makes you so confident she even wants you back Beom? Any woman who wants to go back to a man who ditched her in this shithole is stupid, you have me here already so why do you keep looking in her direction? You only have me Beom, what don't you get?" She unties her ribbon pig-tails and runs a slender hand through her hair before walking up to Beomgyu, a hand snaking around his waist as she presses her tiny face to the small of his back with fake sniffles.

"I'll forgive you Beom..it's okay. Just apologise and I'll-"

"I can’t stand being under the same roof as you. I despise it more than anything. You know well that if you didn't interfere I wouldn't have left, I would've sat by her side at the dinner with her instead of the whiny bitchy act you keep putting up at the table.

Don't even try calling me, I'm sure there's other men you can find with your grandaddy." The force exerted on Lilith's hand as Beomgyu breaks from her grip is great enough to make her yelp and clutch at her wrist, starting to bruise as she shouts with a more authentic drag of her voice,

"Fuck you Choi Beomgyu you jerk!!"

Storming out of the hotel room late at night his feet drag him to the only place he knows best, landing him at your parent's house with a weak greeting hoping that your mom would show him some mercy considering he’s slept in your room for half of his life.

She welcomes him in without thought seeing the redness that’s starting to tinge his eyes.

“It’s been a long time Beommie, how have you been?” Her wrinkled hands pours a warm cup of Jasmine tea which is pushed towards him,

“Have you seen Y/N yet? She’s been looking for you ever since you left you know- you were best friends.”

His heart pangs with even more guilt, refusing to look your mother in the eye knowing he’ll only beat himself up more for something he can’t fix.

“I haven’t seen her yet..it’s probably better that way, I don’t look the greatest.” He jokes with a salty taste in his mouth unable to tell her how horribly he spoke to her daughter, his love.

“Beommie, tell me what’s happened, why did you leave? Why did you come back? I’m sure you had other plans in this small town.” And all he can do is bawl and crash down the moment he starts speaking, telling her about the debt, about his mother’s condition, about his job, about Lilith and about you, oh what he’s done to you.

In the corner of his eye he can just about peep the time capsule the two of you had made together jutting out jarringly under the couch.

All he can think about is the regret and guilt he feels for letting himself become such a hot mess at the cost of losing you when you're the last thing he wanted to lose, the lovestruck photos of the two of you messily stuck on to flimsy cardboard only twisted the knife further.

Beomgyu doesn't ever cry- you could say he doesn't show his vulnerable side to anyone but you because even when he had to move out of the very town he grew up in because of debt he never cried, even when his mom was hospitalised he never cried, yet every single time he catches himself missing your embrace he can’t restrain the urge to cry.

Cry like he's never let out any of his emotions before.

Cry until he's numb from the hurt of letting you go.

In fact, you probably didn’t notice today that he cried as he walked away; tears burning and streaming down his cheeks the moment he saw your emotions so raw, so vulnerable, so pained by him. The immense guilt he had observing the way your throat scratched abrasively as you shouted and scolded him deservingly.

He never planned to be so horrible to you,

He only wanted to deter you from being hurt even more by him,

yet it backfired, spitting insults far worse than he could control, regretting every decision, every word, every action that had hurt you.

There's nothing that hits worse than self realisation after the argument,

that Choi Beomgyu is a fool,

the lowest of the low for ever treating you like this.

“Kai you have to wake up now, I need to collect a couple side dishes from my mom.”

Usually he’d take a couple more nudges before fully waking but this time he’s on full alert- worryingly asking if you felt okay.

Then again, Kai’s always been the alert type. Always making sure that he’d be the first to knock on your door the moment you messaged that you were sick, hand carrying all sorts of medicine and porridge. You’d think that you were diseased with a terminal illness with how much he panics over these things.

“Auntie wants you to collect some side dishes again?”

“Yeah, I bet she’s made too much food for the neighbours and now she’s handing it all down to me.”

Your attempt to joke doesn’t land because Kai stills looks at you with worry- having a six sense built in to him so that he knows when something’s wrong.

“I’ll come with you too, it’s been a while since I’ve seen her.”

The drive gives you a peace of mind as you step outside of Kai’s jeep to push open the paint-chipped gates which creaked with even the slightest touch, “Do you reckon you could get this repainted for us one day?”

“Don’t push it now,” he laughs, “your mom would kill me if she saw me doing all the work while you watch your dramas.”

“Stop trying to get on my mom’s good side seriously !! You make me look like a shit daughter” you replied, knocking on the door expecting to see your mom with a basket full of fruits and side dishes she’s cooked.

Right as you knock the second time the door creaks open, except your mom is not 5’11 with short unkempt hair with the first sign of stubble emerging from her chin, she’s far from it.

You bite on your lip hard enough to draw blood, watching Choi Beomgyu emerge out of the door disheveled and in a trance.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!!” You grunt shoving past him which signals him to raise his hands in the air, “Mom?? Are you here?”

“Look- I didn’t do anything to your mom I just happene-“

”Yeah right.” Kai shoves in to his shoulder as he walks past through the doors causing Beomgyu to scowl. Out of all the people you could see today, why him after you argued so feistily yesterday?

“Be nice to Beomgyu will you?” your mom asks concerningly around the corner, “you never stop making a ruckus do you? It’s been years since you’ve seen each other cut him some slack.”

“I would if he didn’t disappear for 5 years and decide to return and think he can storm all over what’s mine on a random Sunday.”

Beomgyu shifts uncomfortably by the door, choosing not to speak in case he opens his mouth recklessly again.

“Well he’s going to be staying here for the next couple of days before he goes back so why don’t you help clean out the house, hm? You’ve got Kai to help you too.”

You feign defeat as you drag yourself up the stairs to look for the hoover, Kai following behind before Beomgyu could even intercept; expressionless in every manner as he greets him out of politeness.

It’s like a breath of fresh air again away from Beomgyu, who although was bothered snd full of shit yesterday is quiet and meek today. You search inside the dust-filled storage room for the hoover,

“Fuck!” pricking yourself slightly in the process over a nail embedded in a plan of wood inflicting you to yelp was not how you wanted your day to go at all, looking down at the small wound with furrowed eyebrows and half annoyance half pain.

“Show me that.”

“What’s gotten in to you?! It’s fine.” You brush off Beomgyu’s arm which gripped on to your hand with a scowl, staring intently at the small wound starting to clot.

“Just because we’re not dating anymore doesn’t mean I don’t care about yo-“

“Save it, Beomgyu. I heard all that you wanted to say yesterday.”

“Y/N can you come here for a sec?” From the distance Kai shouts out cinematically in time, waving a hand in the air to call you over giving you the opportunity to shake your hand from Beomgyu’s grasp to shift to whatever dilemma he's got now.

“Can you help me open the paint lid? Think it’s a bit jammed.”

“Hah!! You’re so weak Kai seriously it’s nothing..” You retract your laughter the moment you attempt to remove the lid, shut tight around the ridges impossible to remove like the sword in the stone.

”Quit being so embarrassing!”

“I’m not !! You definitely gave me this to open to embarrass me on purpose !!”

Laughing, you ruffle Kai’s hair affectionately, trying to hush his wild laughter fit so your mom doesn’t think you’ve bloody murdered him upstairs.

Beomgyu’s eyebrows knit together as he watches the subtle glint in Kai’s eye as he tucks your hair behind your ears and laughs, one that makes him sick to his stomach as he watches the soap opera you both are putting on display in what he can only describe as jealousy.

His eye twitches at Kai who notices the audience watching, choosing to court you more obnoxiously as he tucks a strand behind your ear and whispers small jokes, unnecessarily touching your hands whenever he could and finding any opportunity to distract you from Beomgyu.

Beomgyu wanted you to have someone better, someone like Kai. But the anger that resides within him refuses to leave as he grabs the hoover and walks past the both of you in a berating silence, an expressionless face and heavy trodding down the stairs.

"Always in a mood, gosh." Kai handles the now-opened cans of paint and signals you to carry the other hues of green that were definitely straining on the muscles in your hand.

To put it short, Kai's emasculate build has its pros because he carries the tins of paint down the stairs like light work while you lag behind, still finishing the last couple of sets of stairs.

"We need to talk."

"Oh my god fuck!!" Exclaiming in surprise you don't even register the blotches of forest green splattered across your face and baby doll top from launching your occupied hands in to the air. Once again at the crime scene rests Choi Beomgyu who becomes startled the minute he realises his mistake.

"I didn't mean to do that."

"I got it Choi. Just go to my room and fetch me a shirt I need to change out of my top..."

There's a slight sulk on your face as you wipe your hand across the paint (which only smudges and widens the stain much to your annoyance) as Beomgyu hurries up the flights of stairs, Kai's worried voice sounding in the distance as he exclaims an "are you okay?"

Reaching your room which was overfilled with moving boxes and your dad's gardening gadgets made it feel more like a storage room despite the signature smell of your home in the very room you both had stayed in still lingering. Doors which creak at the handles when opened reveal the mix of grays, blues and whites in your wardrobe with a bold addition of black in to the mute tones.

It was his shirt. A loose, black graphic tee with a print that was starting to fade which he religiously wore to every band practice, ironed and well kept on a hanger.

He knows how you'll react to the shirt.

He knows he shouldn't do it.

But he rushes down the stairs anyway with the fabric clutched tight in his hands as he knocks on the bath room door.

"Come in.. you owe me big time because the stain isn't coming off-"

click-

Your head whiplashes around to the dooming sound of the door locking behind you- a towering Choi Beomgyu blocking it directly, arms crossed with a shirt tucked between them.

"I don't like that. Open it now Beomgyu this is weird.."

A glint of anticipation appears in his eyes, face contorting in to a grin which made your stomach churn, unsure of what to do in the situation as your mouth goes dry.

"Dropping the last name now huh?" You open your mouth to retaliate but all he does is flick the shirt open to reveal his graphic tee you've kept in your wardrobe for years. It's embarrassing how fast instincts kick in to grab at the shirt to hide it as if he hasn't seen that you've kept a lot of his stuff already, huffing out a "don't get any big ideas I can see it on your face, it's gross."

The attempts to shift past him to reach the door becomes futile which only makes you more agitated to see the shit eating grin still radiant on his face.

"Move it Beomgyu."

"You still want me..right?" In a state of complete shock you cross your eyebrows and look up at him and the audacious question he asked, not even sure if he's being completely honest asking you this when just yesterday he was so set on being a dick to you.

"I want the Choi Beomgyu I knew 5 years ago so move it."

"I'm sorry."

"I know that already it's just a top who gives a shit, stop acting like you care Beomgyu.

"No that's not it, listen to me." The huffs that come out of your mouth are direct evidence that you wanted to be anywhere but stuck in a room with Beomgyu now, the awkwardness between you starker than ever,

"I'm sorry, for what I said yesterday- I didn't mean it, you know that Y/N. You know I still care for you, I thought about you every single day after I left, and after seeing you yesterday while you were crying I went back to Lilith and I- I called off the engagement." He slowly clicks the door open again, preparing for you to leave, but you stay stuck in motion and in paralysis.

If your eyes weren't bulging out of your head earlier they definitely were now, words stuck in your throat and unable to escape as the familiar feeling of hot tears threaten to burn at your eyes again.

"I'm an idiot for saying such hurtful words something over came me..I was pent up about everything, about Lilith, about not seeing you earlier about Kai too- and I know I can't take back what I said and that you won't forget it so easily, I just wanted to make sure you know that I don't hate you. Actually we're not so different, Y/N, I still listen to those recorded calls we had together too, I still look back on the digital camera of us in our last year of high school, when I was away from this small town every single thing reminded me of you. Everything about me still revolves around you, so please don't resent me..." His voice croaks at the end with his head looking down at the bathroom tile, a singular tear hitting the floor in the silence, he waits for a reply which doesn't come out of your mouth at all, instead your lips quiver in sync with how you slightly shake.

You're unsure of what to say- there's not right answer to his apology, no right answer to his confession which can't blur the messy boundaries he's already crossed yesterday. It was like day and night and it boiled your blood how fast he can decide to change his mind as if he wasn't fuming at you yesterday like he wasn't missing for 5 years with no contact.

Slap!-

There wasn't even time for your answer before your palm instinctively reached to singe a red burn on his face which became redder with the minute, triggering a couple more droplets out of his reddening eyes to fall simultaneously on the cold tile.

"I can't even tell what you really think anymore Beomgyu," You choke, holding back on salty tears, "One moment you want to call me obsessed and a slut and the next, you're.. you want to tell me that I'm all you think about? Be honest Beomgyu. Do you really love me? Because I don't think anyone who says their world revolves around me would fucking leave me here for 5 years for no reason!! I'm begging you please, just be honest with me Gyu...don't..don't waste my time anymore." Glossy eyes damp with tears look up to his with raw sadness, the guilt in his face written all over the way his eyebrows raise and his jaw opens and closes like he wanted to say something, but he doesn't take the initiative to.

Without answering he walks closer towards you; a hand reaches up to wipe your tears away however you flinch and push him away which makes his heart sink, only now realising how badly he's hurt you to the full extent.

"I can't resent you Gyu you know that, I just don't understand what was so disgusting about me that made you want to leave, what made you want to get rid of me, why you left in the first place?" Spit from how fast you're talking runs down your chin as you begin to bawl uncontrollably again; you hate how bad you are at controlling your emotions given that every time you try to make a point your body just resorts to tears when it comes to Beomgyu.

Shock in all 5 tiers of regret floods over the male whose fists clench subtly, wanting to let you know that the reason for him leaving so suddenly was anything but being disgusted by you, it tortures him to see you beat yourself up over his own actions, his own foolish decisions.

"Please.. don't say that..I would never leave because of you. I left be-"

"What the fuck is going on here?" A concerned Kai bursts through the door leaving it weakly creaking, succumbing to his outraged behaviour- out of the ordinary for the usual 'angel' Kai.

Seeing the way Beomgyu has his hands clutching on to your shoulders for stability, his fingernails starting to penetrate the first layer of skin from how hard he was gripping on to you, and your reddened and sore tear-stained face Kai can only jump to conclusions.

In seconds he pulls Beomgyu off you and on to a nearby towel rack which causes him to slump on the floor and groan in agony, the force brute enough to leave bruises on his back the next day. Kai's hands wrap around your wrists and drag your weak-minded self out of the bath room and out towards his jeep.

"Kai! Kai! Let me go! Listen to me!" Attempting to shake off the grip on your wrist you knock in to him in the process, causing him to turn around and grab you by the shoulders gently afraid of causing you any discomfort.

"I didn't get to hear what he had to say-"

"Why do you let yourself do this? Why do you willingly listen to him try to shortcut out of his own responsibility for leaving you on your own when you end the conversation every time in tears? Why do you do this to yourself?"

His eyes, rimmed with quiet sorrow, watched as you reluctantly buckled in to the passenger seat, wiping your tears away with your arm, with a tenderness that spoke louder than words. His brows were drawn together, not in anger, but in a deep, aching concern, as if Kai could feel the weight of the your pain in his own chest.

"I'm taking you back to your place, okay? I'll let Auntie know. I just don't want you to be hurt by that jerk again, always searching for excuses."

Your head feels light as you roll down the window conflicted between Kai's advice and the truth behind Beomgyu's disappearance. You're not even sure if what he was going to tell you would change anything, so you ignore it, letting the thought drown out as background noise as you watch the view of the small town slowly transition into high-rise buildings and apartments through the window.

But just because you drowned it out as background noise doesn't mean you'd forget the what ifs with Beomgyu.

There were still feelings for him in you; buried under layers of protection and closing off your heart over the years, it's been pierced through and through every time you're reminded of him, how he left, how he returned, how he apologised- but you don't have the will power to resent him like you say you will, not when the bond you've had for over 15 years is still strong between the two of you, like it's fate that you were supposed to encounter Beomgyu through and through.

It's a dangerous game the two of you are playing, it's dangerous to think about crossing the wall you've built up between you and Beomgyu, dangerous to fall in love him again.

"Shit." Beomgyu curses under his breath and digs into the pockets of his ripped jeans to search for his pack of cigarettes, instead brushing over his phone which starts to ring as he gets back on his feet.

Beomgyu’s gaze flickers over the blue light of the screen as it buzzed in his hand, lit up with a simple, bold 'Dad'. His heart drops again, an unsettling feeling sweeping over him- like a weight pressing against his chest. He had always known that his dad’s calls weren’t casual check-ins or everyday conversations-there was always an undercurrent of something worrying; perhaps asking for more money, to visit Lilith's parents again to keep the deal going, something about his mom in between the lines of getting better or getting worse with her health. His thumb hovered over the screen, the decision to answer hanging in the air like a question he didn’t want to face. The familiar dread settled in his stomach, and for a brief moment, he considered letting it go to voicemail, but he knows he has to answer, he knows what it's like for everything to change over a phone call.

"What is it now?" He complains, a string of cursing, insults and scolding sounding out of the speaker, another meaningless complaint about Lilith wailing and running to her parents about his actions, how he's ruined it all for his family, for himself.

"Hurry over to the in-laws and apologise, I can't believe you decided to call off the engagement I worked so hard for you to have, you'd think I'd have a more grateful son for all that I've done for you."

The line cuts off eerily as Beomgyu dusts off his pants, unlocking the doors of his car as he walks out of the bathroom and in to the silent living room, limping slightly down the stairs. His head started to ache and fuzz his vision as he stepped out in to the yard of your home, unable to think properly before his eyelids closed down on him, the whole of his body weight dropping to the floor in an instant at great impact.

The first to discover his unconscious self was your mom who returned from the town market with a bag of groceries, immediately calling a flight of ambulances with sirens sounding through the usually quiet town, alarming and sparking worry among the locals who nosily peeked out of their windows to see the chaos surrounding Beomgyu who's strapped in to a stretcher and completely blacked out, slight wounds to his face as the paramedics loaded him in to the back of the emergency vehicle.

His pulse hammered in his ears, each beat louder than the last, and his body felt like it was drifting to the rhythmic beeping of the machines that surrounded him. Panic clawed at the edges of his consciousness, but he couldn’t summon the energy to push it away, struggling to find balance between keeping in and out of consciousness.

The next thing he knew, he was hooked to a network of drips and monitors, feeling weak in the hospital bed that confined him as the initial mumbling became clearer as he blinked away.

Despite the pain in his upper arm, he pushes himself up to sit straight, analysing his surroundings: a small empty vase, a heart rate monitor, a plain cream room that smelled of disinfectant and you and Kai, although he bore a more concerned look more than anything. He spotted your mother who comforted you through a series of pats on your back as you weeped with your head in your arms on the white bedsheets where his feet laid.

Him suddenly stirring awake startled you further as you rush to ask him a plethora of questions.

"Why didn't you tell me Beomgyu?" You hiccuped between sobs, the confusion still settling on his face as he tried to recall what had occured in the hours that he was unconscious,

"What am I doing here- I'm confused what's wrong with me?"

"You fainted at the doorstep of Auntie's house, you were unresponsive it gave her the shock of her life," Kai answers for you, his stern look from earlier filled with concern as he faces Beomgyu again,

"You have muscular dystrophy, Beomgyu."

Muscular dystrophy. Beomgyu’s body felt like it was sinking into the bed, as if the weight of the Kai's words were pulling him down deeper into a pit he couldn’t escape. Muscular dystrophy. The phrase echoed in his mind, each repetition more jarring than the last.

Beomgyu couldn’t process it, attempting to lift his arm, but it trembled, showing the first signs of progressing pain. His heart thudded painfully in his chest, a cruel reminder that everything was changing, that his life was slipping out of his control, exactly like how you did.

A fleet of nurses and doctors rush in to the room only to bombard him with another series of questions and information, shooing you, Kai and your mom out of the ward away from Beomgyu.

"We believe it's caused by genetics, your mother has the same condition as I'm sure you're aware. We've had a couple blood tests done and it's a miracle that the symptoms didn't show up earlier, probably in recession. You've been over-working yourself recently I'm guessing which must have led to a flare up in muscle fatigue and pain. It's important that you rest properly and aim not to damage your muscles too much because it'll only get worse. There's no cure for it, you'd know, but I can refer you to the hospital your mother is residing in right know for physiotherapy and a treatment plan- it's unfortunate that we don't have the right facilities for it."

The rest of the doctor's words enter one ear and out the other as Beomgyu is dazed, unable to process the information all at once, like the whole world was crashing down on him. He can't find the energy to answer apart from weak nods as he looks down at the state of his body; weak, sickly, deteriorating.

He can't accept reality,

He doesn't know what to do next at this point.

As you continue to sob in the waiting room, clutching on to Kai all you can focus on is how impatient you were with him, picking a fight and slapping him, only getting angry at him without even realising how detrimental it could've been to both his mental and physical state; you can't scrub your mind of the fact that you could've caused the flare up, that you could be so horrible to him when all he wanted to do was speak.

All you can think about is whether his apology was an attempt at soft launching you in to telling you about his condition, about how if you stayed to listen maybe you could've helped him out faster instead of storming out with Kai. The guilt is overbearing as you weep harder in to Kai's shoulder, who still can't comprehend why you care so much over Beomgyu when he's hurt you over and over again, why you still want to be the first to be there for him when he's never there for you.

But all of your dismantled thoughts come to a halt as Lilith's family strut through the door, completely unbothered and unashamed of their presentation as they walk in to his ward. Lilith sends a dirty look towards your direction in the process before following behind her parents.

The next few moments consist of shouting and arguing which wreaks havoc in the hospital when Lilith's family are escorted out shortly after, shouting "That fucking bastard tried to marry my daughter to a fucking paraplegic!! Let me go I need a talk with that damn boy for lying to us !!"

You can feel the guilt bubbling inside you as you take in the scene before you, a family of grown, rich adults who have nothing better to do than pick on a boy who just discovered he's had a genetic condition that will leave him struggling to stand soon all along, picking on your boy who aspired of starting his own band one day- now strapped to the hospital bed as he gets all sorts of testing done to him.

You hate being so sympathetic, you hate that all you can do is cry over Choi Beomgyu, cry for Choi Beomgyu, hurt over Choi Beomgyu and hurt for Choi Beomgyu.

You don't remember when he became off limits to visitors, the last memory being the day he fainted and you found yourself tossing and turning in bed, worried and stressed as visible eye bags formed under your eyes.

There was no answer as to why you were so impacted by it, you simply couldn't say anything other than you still loved him, that you still cared for him even after everything. That you can't let yourself hate him when he's already had his life flipped over, and even if you still couldn't understand why he had left you in the first place you were at least willing to care for him in a life where not even his parents wanted to see him, where his ex-fiancee's family couldn't bear to see him in his condition out of disgust.

So you can only imagine the way the blood drains out of your face one morning when your mom sits you down at breakfast, asking an innocent question,

"What time are you leaving today? I want to come too."

"I'm not working today? What, did we plan something together?”

She quirks a brow at your cluelessness before swallowing and asking,

"You didn't know? Beommie's going back to Seoul today, he's going to see a specialist who'll help him with his condition like his mother."

You couldn't see it coming. One minute you're arguing with him for the first time in 5 years of seeing each other, and the next, he's leaving just as quickly as he was starting to reenter your life.

For a moment, everything stops. You stare, waiting for your mother to laugh, to tell you what she said was some sort of joke, but her face remains constant.

"That poor boy..it's such a shame that he had to stop school so early because his father fell in to debt after trialing an unsuccessful drug for his mother's muscular dystrophy, he told me he even had to sell his phone and get a job so early just to pay it off!

If only they didn't fall in to debt he would still be helping out at their apple and peach farm here in this town now, he really has gone through so much. On top of being married off by his incompetent father to a family like that ! Gosh it's scandalous!

If I could I would take in that boy immediately, he was only 11 when he had to start bearing all the responsibilities, had to sleep over in your bed room because his mother was constantly causing a ruckus screaming in agony. I can't even begin to imagine how he feels now."

And suddenly, your world feels off-balance, like the ground beneath you is cracking. You didn’t know. You didn't know he had to leave because of his father's debt, you didn't know that it wasn't his fault and yet you blamed him.

Over and over again you would blame him and curse at him like you knew everything about him after he went missing for 5 years. You made sure he couldn't receive your approval to his interrupted apology. And still you want to be a little selfish, you want to complain because if he had told you before he was swept away in to the harsh reality of adult hood; you would have stayed- you would have helped him, made sure that he never cried on the nights that he was left alone in a foreign city where he had to work among adults just to survive, you would have made sure that he knew you were still there supporting him from a distance- that he did have someone rooting for him.

Your heart starts racing, the panic settling in, but your mind can’t catch up. A million questions swirl in your head, but none of them make it past your lips.

"When..When does he leave?"

You grip the steering wheel tight, knuckles white against the black leather, the engine growling beneath you. The road screeches as you push the accelerator harder, for sure a couple miles above the speed limit as you head towards the train station. You glance at the clock-12:11. Beomgyu's train departs in a couple more minutes, creeping closer, each second slipping away, and you know if you don’t make it you might never see him again. Might never be able to apologise to him, instead leaving your last impression on him as arrogant and refusing to listen.

The town around you feels like it’s closing in, the sounds of honking mute in the distance as you weave in and out of lanes, your heart pounding harder with every twist and turn, but you can’t slow down. You don’t have time. Not even a second to waste if you wanted to see him.

If you wanted to see Choi Beomgyu for what might be the last time.

The train station is just a few miles ahead, but it feels like an eternity. Your hands are slick with sweat, but you don't dare let go of the wheel, quickly swerving in to the parking lot and lazily leaving your car at an angle which was sure to serve you a fine or some sort of fight later.

Rushing up the stairs that seemed to last for an eternity you can hear the dull roar of the train's engine come to a halt, leaving a soft pshhht of steam blowing out of it. You scurry on to the platform, sweating, red faced, hoping he may be able to leave some time for you to say sorry, in hopes that he'd forgive your pent up anger like he asked for you to forgive his.

And there you spot him, boarding on to the train with a small burgundy suitcase decorated in dandelion stickers, his hair much longer and uncut than when you last saw it, his skin starting to look paler than you remember.

"Choi Beomgy-!"

"This train is departing to, Seoul."

Your heart starts to slow as you scavenge through windows upon windows to find him in which ever carriage he seated himself in, tears staring to unfold again when you struggled to see him, mistaking him for the hundreds of people in the same attire until you reach the end of the carriage, where he looks you directly in your sore eyes.

He doesn't say anything- not that you can hear anyways- but you watch him smile, tears starting to form in his eyes as well, a mere glass screen separating your hands as you sob uncontrollably with snot dripping out of your nose embarrassingly.

He doesn't look frustrated with you at all for taking so long to finally see him again, and even if he looks weaker physically and mentally than he did at the start you can see the boyish smile of the 16 year old Beomgyu you first fell in love with in his grin, slowly pulling out his hand to sign to you in sign language amidst the loud roar of the engine preparing to take off again,

'Don't Cry. We'll meet again.'

You stand there, frozen on the platform, watching as Beomgyu’s train starts to pull away in to the distance without warning. You couldn't tell what he was thinking in the moment, but you could understand the mutual agreement between you two that you'll find each other at different times again, when you're both ready for each other, when you're both more mature to handle the oppression of the adult world that you're only just really entering in to.

Though, you can feel the weight of it in your bones- the quiet goodbye neither of you could say out loud. Your heart is heavy, aching with the kind of sadness that feels endless, like you’re watching your entire world fade into the distance, too helpless to stop it.

It's a crushing realisation, but you're satisfied because you're certain he'll come back. He always keeps his promises.

You lag behind Kai again in a park, the two of you now in Seoul 4 years later, you've always found it difficult to catch up with Kai, but he'd always find a way to make sure he was there to support you. That's just the kind of person Kai is.

But there's something heavy hearted that both of you have realised today. That after a year of dating- you were never meant to be.

Kai deserved someone who was capable of loving him back as much as he loved them, someone who wouldn't take his acts of kindness and his heart at a minimum and treat it as simply being 'nice'.

And you, you deserved peace, since moving to Seoul you've never stopped searching for Beomgyu, the sinking feeling once again that in such a big city it's difficult to even know if Beomgyu was roaming the same streets as you, if he even could walk around the streets of the city again. There's no lying in the fact that you appreciated Kai, seriously, he's one of the best people you could be blessed with on such a twisted world, but every time you look at him you imagine the latter instead. The weak boyish grin he tried to put on for you before he vanished again, and you can tell it hurts Kai when you start crying again just by staring at his face- because he's constantly overlooked in Beomgyu's shadow.

Like no matter what he does, he can't compete with fate, he can't try to sever what was destined to be, which leads you to today, 26 and 27, walking down the park during cherry blossom season when he turns around to face you with downturned eyes,

"Why can't you pick me over Beomgyu?" He asks with genuine sadness, which only deepens the wound in your heart because after 9 years you still don't know how to answer him.

"You still love him don't you?"

His question cuts right through to your soul, he's read you like a book, he's always been attentive like this and you can't look him in the eyes in case you'd start crying again like you always do.

"It's okay, I don't blame you. It's okay if you don't know why you feel this way. I just think, it would be best for the both of us to go our separate ways." Kai sends a slightly forced smile which quivers in to a frown at times as he reaches out to hug you first, because he can see it in the way that you act now that you need help, that you need someone who understands you on a deeper level,

you need Beomgyu.

And as the cherry blossoms start to fall and Kai's tall figure starts to wander off in the distance ready to start a new chapter of adulthood you feel eyes staring at the back of your head from above, the feeling of being observed. The familiarity of ruffled, black hair.

"Long time no see."

A/N: Please lmk if I need to make any grammar edits !! But this is my first ever big fic on tumblr!! Wooo, hopefully the angst actually hit at some points because that was lit my whole intent for this fic, reblogging or criticism is appreciated !!

tyunningism 's work !! 2025

tags: @whoisgami

#txt #txt fic #fanfic #kpop #angst #beomgyu x reader #tyunningism writes!!#beomgyu #hueningkai #taehyun #yeonjun #soobin #txt fanfic

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lo1k-diamonds · 17 hours ago

Text

Standing Next to You 💜

Will we ever see each other again?

PAIRING: demon!Jungkook x angel!(f)Reader

SUMMARY: JK is a lust demon — a powerful being that inflames desires at the simplest glance. That is his nature and all there is to his existence. Until there was you.

WORD COUNT: 12.7 k

ORIGINALLY WRITTEN: November 2023 (edited June 2025)

GENRE: Demon AU, fantasy AU, forbidden love, MV based

RATING: Mature

WARNINGS: mentions of religious themes, like sins and virtues, mentions of torture, lewd scenes involving human souls and other demons, fear and anxiety, celesteal love making (I don't know what to call it, okay 😇)

A.N.: When I first saw the Standing Next to You MV, I had so many questions. I just needed to make all the amazing imagery come together. To this day, I still think this is the most unconventional thing I've written, and I like it a lot :) Welcome back, JK! Enjoy 💜 (PS, thank you, Raven @shadowkoo, for your help with the banner!)

Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

He raised his chin and looked down at the others gathered around on their comfortable loveseats, just like him. There was something in the way they spoke that irked him, and he found it extremely hard to hide, and as such, he didn’t. His lip curled in subtle aversion, and he ignored the conversation, turning to the lower level to watch.

The sea of souls dancing lasciviously and enjoying carnal sins in as much abundance as possible was a comforting sight. He didn’t remember ever being down there, but he remembered creating those thoughts, those urges. That was his purpose, and it filled him with an intense warmth he appreciated very much. It made him complete.

When the meeting around him ended, he got up and ignored the others' banters. After an eternity together, he was not in the mood for superficiality.

“What has gotten into you?”

The strongest, most piercing grip that could ever claw at his shoulder didn’t bother him the slightest. “They’ve been indulging instead of creating indulgence.”

The laugh from behind him was dark and sticky, like treacle dripping slowly down his spine. It was too intense, but he could handle it.

“Different demons have different talents. Some need to indulge to open the door, some just have to throw a look to turn a whole room into avid, lascivious souls.” The voice moved behind him to his other ear, whispering, “Not everyone has that gift, Jungkook dearest. You shouldn’t disdain those less able than you.”

Every word irked him even more, even if he knew others couldn’t hear their conversation.

“It’s not because they’re less able,” he insisted, turning to the Archdemon. “It’s because they don’t try. Creating the curiosity, whispering it into the first tremors, showing how to take the step forward.” His pose was immaculate, his dark eyes intense, as he stepped forward only to twirl, his arms wrapping around him. “And finally guiding it into the first sensuous longing that will become an ardent, beautiful flame of desire.”

He grasped the air with his hands to seize it, and his eyes shone pure carnality.

The Archdemon chuckled in amusement, and Jungkook stilled, relaxing his form. Screams of pure ecstasy and yearning were heard from the level below, but he didn’t look at them.

“It’s an art,” he insisted, and the Archdemon grinned.

“One you create like no other,” he agreed, smile so syrupy that Jungkook pouted. “That’s why you’ll keep making your art, leading rooms of souls into that beautiful flame.” He turned Jungkook to him with a flick of his wrist, towering over him like only such a beast could. “You leave the others to me and forget about any other matters.”

Jungkook sighed, and the Archdemon took that as an acknowledgement — he laughed and turned to other matters, leaving Jungkook on that stage with no reason to perform. He looked at the crowd again and pursed his lips. As usual, he was treated like a prodigy and left to his own devices. He wouldn’t complain; he liked being free. It was the lack of care and lack of enforcement of the necessary zeal that bothered him deeply.

He passed the other members of the circle and got backstage, only giving nods and glances to the other demons as they passed. He got into the lower levels of that orangey metal den and kept going lower. He liked to do that sometimes and see the products of his efforts.

Some thought less of demons such as himself, but it was nonsense. Lust was the easiest sin, the gateway into an unreserved realm of possibilities. Even if the soul didn’t indulge further in other, more egregious capital sins, it would rarely revert to being chaste. It was too sweet to skip, too liberating to be tied to, too intense to miss. As animalistic as it was, it was also the easiest to control, and he enjoyed reigniting the flames of—

He blinked and turned suddenly to another corridor in that engraved, sweaty maze. He thought he saw— But that was impossible—

He huffed and walked in that direction, using his agility and flight to go as quickly as possible. Souls shouldn’t be wandering that side of the den; it was backstage. Moreover, the shape looked… white. Which was impossible. Demons wore black, a consequence of their black feathers reflecting on their appearance. He had a black tight leather vest, trousers, and shoes, and—

He caught his breath when he saw something clearly white trying to hide in a corner, under some metal tubes on the wall. He frowned deeply, immediately pushed by his diligence to catch whatever it was and purge it.

He rushed in a second and flew over it, putting his feet on the ground so close that the figure almost touched his shoes. He towered over the cowering, trembling figure easily, his full anger blatant in his eyes as he reached to grab it, but then he froze.

You turned to look up at him with the most beautiful, shaken blue eyes he had ever seen. You were crying and trembling, fear disturbing your delicate beauty in a way that irked him a thousand times over.

He shook his head, disturbed by the image of grace itself so troubled, and raised his hands soothingly as if to catch you, but without touching you. He guided you straighten up with nothing but a look, and you sniffled while doing so. Your tears were shimmering and reflecting the light like tiny little stars, and he thought that pure light had no business emerging from your misery.

He heard the steps and the wings from further away, and so did you because you gasped quietly. Your eyes weren’t pleading; despite your fear, you accepted your fate. He also saw your curiosity; it was a spark that drew him to you like a moth to a flame, yet it stayed that way. Just a spark because you were simply and purely curious, like a soul who had never seen the sea or the snow and couldn’t name them even if they were before your eyes. How could that be?

He raised his chin for a second, and his black wings extended like shadows covering you both from the ceiling to the floor. You gasped again, louder this time, but he couldn’t be mad at you. He liked impressing you even if it risked getting you caught. But as the figures passed, blinded to you both, he felt an odd blazing certainty in his gut. No one could ever catch you.

You stayed like this for an indiscernible moment, just waiting for the sounds to fade away. You couldn’t take your eyes off him, and despite knowing it had to be a spell of some kind, you let it slide. It was in your nature to know exactly when to stop, and for now, your eyes wouldn’t turn away.

When he knew you were totally in the clear, he reached his arms around you, and you gasped as his wings closed in on you. You shut your eyes, darkness taking over you, and soon your feet weren’t on the ground. The wavering sensation was familiar, and you knew you were flying, transposing rudimentary things like walls and doors. You placed your hands over his chest, the black leather warm under your touch, and snuggled closer. Wherever he was taking you, you couldn’t do anything about it.

He landed softly on his feet, and his arms around you made it so you did the same, only a second later. He looked at your light brown hair, and he could have questioned himself, but he didn’t. Your gaze turned up to meet his, and the lightest color of blue in your eyes reflected the light. He thought that was a color he had only ever seen in the sky, and he immediately suspected what you were.

He stepped back as if giving you freedom, and you waited until he turned his back, watching his black feathery wings disappear before looking around. You were in a room with mirrors, lights, gramophones, and a small stage in the corner. It reminded you of an antique mini-theatre, and your lips curved with its charm.

He had stepped away to take a deep breath, his thoughts flashing from possibility to possibility before accepting that once he turned back around, he’d find you long gone.

But when he turned, you were still there, and the light shining on you didn’t bother hiding anything. You were wearing a white tulle mini dress that revealed way more than he thought someone like you would want to show. He could see the bruises on your skin, the traces of sweat that had your light brown hair still wet, just by your shoulders. He didn’t need to know, but your blinking told him — your cobalt blue eyeshadow was sparkling and instilling in him a sense of self-control he wouldn’t have had normally. He knew what you were.

It took you a moment to realize what he was. A demon, certainly, but what kind? Your first thought was wrath because he was angry when he first saw you. But he brought you to that room, so you thought of pride. He was certainly handsome and prideful about whatever art he seemed to adore. But now, gazing upon his dark, blazing eyes, you gasped mutely. You could feel something warm tracing up your spine, like the softest feather touch that promised a caress. It was trying to shake the pillars that held your judgment, working them ever so softly that you would want to melt in his arms and forget they ever existed. So that was who he was.

“You’re still here.”

You smiled and looked down for a moment. Not because of his question, but because his voice had puckered your skin into a million little particles of desire. You couldn’t believe it had taken you more than a heartbeat to know.

“I am.”

“Why?” His question was swift as his eyes bore into yours. He knew why, but he wanted something more. Your reaction to him wasn’t enough, and his reaction to you was a problem. He placed his hands on his waist, trying to placate his flame. He didn’t want to burn you, though he was incredibly tempted to.

“Because I can’t fly.”

Your eyes sparkled with annoyance before you looked down with a gentle smile. How could such a mild creature provoke his flames like this?

“Why? Why are you here?”

“I was captured.” Your eyes watered at the memory, and he knew what you would say. “I was held in a never-ending infernal fire and plucked for my feathers whenever they would grow.”

He closed his eyes, knowing it to be true. Your sweat marks meant you were in the deepest corners of hell, and your attire meant that your wings were not healthy. He faced you again, and the gentleness of your eyes pierced him thinly, like a needle soothing his emerging anger. That was no easy feat. He was a demon, but he adored all things pure and beautiful. Purity to him meant natural, instinctive, and faithful to one’s nature, good or bad. The fact that they would pluck yours out of you so cruelly angered him beyond words.

“Why?”

You blinked with a hint of confusion before smiling amiably. “You know why.” You waited for him to say something, but he didn’t. You thought this was odd, but it didn’t matter. “You know what I am, Demon of Luxuria.”

“I do, Angel of Temperantia.”

He could swear your eyes sparkled along with your smile, and he looked away, conflicted. Your nature was beautiful, and he was captivated beyond limits. But he shouldn’t be, he couldn’t. You were an angel. You were in danger. He shouldn’t help you; he knew who would have taken the pleasure of plucking out your essence. He turned away and clenched his fists, such fury coursing through him that a wrath demon would have applauded. It disturbed him beyond words to even imagine—

“Am I…” your voice echoed quietly behind him, and he turned around.

Your innocent blue eyes were the shade of concern.

“Unsettling you?”

“No.” His voice was hoarse, and he cleared his throat. “No, not you.”

You blinked once as if measuring his words, but then you smiled gently, and his heart shook. You were absolutely exquisite.

“I don’t want to disturb you in any way, even indirectly.” You placed your hands behind your back like a child restraining from touching toys at a store, and paced around his room for a brief moment. You were taking in the edges of his soul, and his chest burned in anticipation and wonder. He had never felt that way before, and he was a demon of lust. “I understand what you must do.”

Your tone was kind and accepting as if all was already forgiven, and he clenched his fists. “No.”

“No?”

“No.” He could see the confusion in your expression, but he was just surer and surer. He’d never see you again; they’d keep torturing your soul, snatching your essence, and harvesting your sweetness. He couldn’t stand it. “No, you’re going to escape.”

“I can’t fly.”

“You’ll heal.”

“I have nowhere to go.”

“I’ll take care of that.”

“They’ll keep searching for me.”

“I’ll hide you.”

He stepped towards you, and his powerful wings reappeared behind him, drawing your eyes. They shone brightly even when reflecting his darkness.

He plucked a handful of feathers from himself, and you gasped as if you had felt his pain.

“Stop!”

“Here.” He extended them to you, but you only looked at him as if he had hurt you unbearably. “Take them.”

You looked about to cry in outrage. “No!”

He sighed impatiently and stepped forward. “I’m giving them to you. Willingly.”

“It harms you,” you whimpered, bright eyes telling him you cared for him.

“It doesn’t, I promise you.” You seemed confused, and he added, “Not when it’s my choice.”

Your eyes softened in understanding, and suddenly you saw it. Kindness. Could a demon have a virtue?

“But…” You stepped forward, a palm away from his feathers near to your heart, but you ignored them. “Will you— Can you survive this act of kindness?”

He wavered for a second; was that what this was? He looked at the feathers in his hand and then at your darling eyes. Was he acting selflessly without expecting anything in return?

He grinned and shook his head. “It’s not.”

You were surprised at this and looked down again. “But it is a sacrifice. What do you expect in return?”

He sighed and insisted, “Just take it.”

You looked at him and tried peeking behind the curtain, but his eyes hardened and didn’t let you. You saw it as a kindness and feared for him, but if he was confident it could do him no harm, then you’d accept his gift.

You let him place his feathers in your open hands, and you immediately grimaced. His power was so very different from yours; it was like a magnet pulling you infinitely to steal your ground. You tried holding steady, but you were in a weakened state. Your knees bent, you’d soon fall in and—

He grabbed your arms to stabilize you and you looked at him through the energy trying to suck you in. Instantly, the winds seemed flexible, their strength could be managed, and their direction guided. You let him work through you until you felt embraced. You felt warm and nurtured and supported, and it had been so long since you last felt safe that your eyes filled with tears. You opened them to find him leaning his forehead on yours, feeling that moment in his way. He opened his eyes, and your heart shook with worry.

“Are you okay?”

He smirked. “I should be asking you that.”

You shook your head; you were safe. That was a silly question.

He could read your insistence in your eyes. “I’m fine.” He stepped back and looked down at you, and so did you.

You were covered in black leather: a skirt below your knees, short-heeled shoes, and a jacket covering you modestly to your neck. He smiled; not even his essence could defile yours. Sure, you were wearing black, but—

Your eyes locked, and he stared. Your eyeshadow was now black, but your eyes remained the color of the sky. Your hair was the same, too, not darkest in the slightest. He thought it was beautiful to see his essence shimmering through you and wondered what other ways you could be compatible. It could be your influence, but he wanted to reach you in the middle. Distorting your nature would be the vilest thing, but finding a bridge to cross into your beautiful—

He heard a sound and instantly snapped. You heard it too, but he was already waving his hand to keep whoever wanted to come in out. You guessed this was his plane, so he could choose who to let in or not, but you were still scared. It wasn’t impenetrable, and they were looking for you.

“You need to kick me out,” you urged him. “They’ll hurt you to get me!”

He held you by the shoulders, gazing deeply into your eyes. “Can you fly now?”

You furrowed your brow and focused on trying, but pain instantly pierced your chest. You would have fallen to your knees if he weren’t holding you. “I can’t.”

He pressed his lips and didn’t move away, thinking while his hands had you. You wouldn’t complain; you felt safe with him.

“It’s okay, I’ll hide you.”

“I can’t stay here!” You were breathless. Despite your wish to stay by his side, you knew you’d be risking his life, and you couldn’t bear it.

“I know.” His eyes were glistening with something again, and you felt it, though you couldn’t name it. He touched your cheek for a brief moment, and your lips trembled. You didn’t want this to be goodbye. “You’ll be somewhere safe. You’ll heal and everything will be alright.”

You were scared, and you didn’t hide it. He gave you a look that permeated confidence through you before turning away and walking to the other side of the room. You felt abandoned, suddenly lost without his touch or comforting gaze. It didn’t get better when someone knocked on the door, and he let them in, which frightened you immensely.

“You called?”

The man was tall and well-built, wearing all black, although not leather. You instantly knew he wasn’t the same; he had no aura to him.

“Yes,” he answered the newcomer, and you could tell by the dynamic that there was a power difference. “You’ll gather the others and take her to The Grandeur.”

You were confused and pleading with your eyes, but he stayed where he was. His eyes were dark and piercing; maybe it was his energy that was embedded in yours, but you felt a strange warmth rising in your spine. No longer a subtle touch, you felt almost drawn to him, eager to find out what would happen if you allowed it.

“If anyone asks, she’s a newly converted soul.”

“That became a demon?”

The man sounded skeptical, and the demon turned his piercing gaze to him. “She’s a powerful creature. You don’t believe it?”

The man looked at you, and you didn’t know what to do. You didn’t know how a demon acted, and even if you did, you couldn’t deceive anyone.

The man nodded. “She feels powerful enough.”

The demon looked at you again and nodded. “Good.”

You looked at him with a sudden shudder. He was so powerful that only a piece of him was that strong. Just who was that demon?

“You’ll protect her with your lives, no matter who comes for her.” You shuddered at his words, at his command. He was their Lord — they would obey. “Now leave, I need one more second.”

You watched the man dissipate into a black miasm, and your body moved on its own. You rushed to the demon hastily while he turned to you with open arms to receive you.

“The Grandeur?”

“The closest palace. Think of it like a hotel where the highest demons reside.” He was talking, but his eyes were tracing your features as he brushed your now dry and fluffy light brown hair away from your forehead.

“You’ll hide me there?!”

“It’s the last place they’ll look.” He saved your eyes for last and smiled. You were scared, maybe a bit grumpy, but you trusted him. “I thought angels were taught never to trust a demon.”

“We’re also told demons can’t be kind.”

He would have lost his patience with anyone else, but not with you. “I’m not. This is not kindness.”

“It is to me,” you insisted firmly, staring into his eyes. You weren’t afraid, and you trusted him. He could turn you in at any moment he wished, and he didn’t have to help you, much less sacrifice part of his essence to offer it to you, but he did. You could feel the urgency, the instinct that the longer you stayed, the riskier things were for him. But you still asked, “Will I see you again?”

For a split second, he wondered what you were both doing. Were you so entranced by each other that you were falling into the trap he, as a lust demon, had set a million times before? Was that even possible for an angel? Angels could be deceived, but surely not like this?

Then he cupped your cheek and let the fire blaze just a little more, contrary to what your aura would have him do.

He had his answer, as clear as your eyes. He nodded. “You will. I’m sure you will.”

You leaned into his touch, recognizing the sweet temptation his eyes represented, but then the world shook. You both looked around, and he stepped back.

“Remember, you’re a high-standing demon.”

And with that, he cast you out and placed you gently exactly where you needed to be for the lesser demons to put you in a limousine and take you away. He closed his eyes, sensing the planes parallel to his. Someone was so angry that it was rippling through all of them. The Archdemon would not rest until he found you, but now he’d be looking in the wrong place. That would give you a moment to breathe and rest, and him a moment to collect his thoughts.

He knew you wouldn’t heal in the blink of an eye; after all, you had no wings left. The level of torture and torment you had to endure for anyone to be able to suck your essence almost completely was immeasurable. Still, the Archdemon scoured every plane of his demon den, hoping to find you. He thought you were hiding somewhere; you couldn’t possibly have escaped his domain. And for now, that false premise would be what kept you safe.

But time was passing, and he knew you’d be somewhere. Angels didn’t die like that, immortal as they were, and powerful. Jungkook was not in charge of that aspect of that hell; he was a charmer, a seducer, a performer. He tempted souls, he didn’t help maintain hell’s prisons, and as such, knew nothing of such matters. Being kept out of the loop was unsettling, but it was also a good sign. Maybe there was still time.

He heard from his minions that you were safe and staying hidden. Every day, he would receive a report about you, but today his hireling looked dejected. It was enough to deeply unsettle him.

“What is it?”

“Miss is… She’s weaker. She tries to hide, but… she can’t lie.”

Those words shook him, and he gripped his hair as he walked from one end of his room to the other. He spent the night thinking about what was happening and what he could do. You should be healing, but instead, you were weaker. He didn’t know what he could do, and going to you was extremely risky. Having his minions in and out of places was not suspicious, but if he started frequenting The Grandeur without reason, it could be noticed.

So the next day, when his minion came with his report, which unfortunately remained unchanged, he handed him a letter. He hoped you would understand the way he had written it. To anyone else, it would be a blank piece of parchment, but not to you or him. He had written it using traces of his essence, as one would with blood, in a way only he could read. And you, because you had his essence flowing through you.

He could barely contain the excitement while he waited for the day to end and another to emerge. He was particularly effective that day, drawing in so many unsuspecting souls that he could laugh. He wanted you to figure it out and send him something as well. He wondered about it and got tangled in the many possibilities, which kept him up and excited all night.

When his minion came with a folded piece of paper, he got it and felt like a child who had just received candy. He opened it.

How are you? I hope you have recovered well.

And he laughed. He laughed because you were an angel — of course, you’d be worried about him losing a few feathers a week ago instead of your worsening state. But he was also happy. You figured it out, you understood his essence flowing through you, and didn’t reject it. You embraced it and, in turn, him as well. That made him ecstatic.

After that, you exchanged letters every day. At first, you remained reserved about your state, and he didn’t want to give away the fact that he was being updated about it, though you probably knew. Either way, he wanted you to share of your own volition, and he started sharing things too. Nothing that would worry you, or make you disapprove of him, but other things. Things his fellow demons didn’t appreciate, and that it turned out you did.

You admired the nature of all things and understood him when he expressed art as an emotion. He thought you’d hate it when he said he respected people’s natures when he tempted them, but you had agreed. It was in every soul the potential to do things with any degree of intensity. He shouldn’t tempt them, but the choice was always theirs. You believed in the balance of all things and that temperance was the key to everything. He, who had always been infatuated with the beauty and inevitability of desire, could respect that you saw it as something not sinful, but part of a whole. You spoke of other kinds of desire, not necessarily lustful or depraved, but that invoked the gripping feeling nonetheless. The yearning for a kiss, or a touch, or a mere presence. The longing to smell a flower, to listen to a song, or to repeat a familiar food. You debated passion versus lust, and he realized that was where you diverged: he saw passion as something that would lead to lust, and you saw it as the potential to do amazing things. He told you lust came from the desire to abuse something, and you disagreed. Lust came from a potent desire to experience something, but it didn’t have to be a bad thing. It didn’t have to be carnal either; it could stay in the mind and mold and evolve, as all emotions did.

He thought you two would combust in holy and hellfire, respectively, for even debating the limits of the virtues and sins you both battled for, but it turned out you didn’t. He didn’t feel any weaker or scorched, and as far as your health went, you were not getting better, but surely not because of your letters.

When his minion told him, along with your letter, that you were bedridden, he was lost. Two weeks. Two weeks, and you were so much worse. The worry was gripping his heart; he had the most intense desire to see you and know what was happening. That day, he didn’t open your letter; he flew straight to The Grandeur and onto your balcony. He was shrouded in shadows, and he would have knocked, but he couldn’t feel you, and he panicked. He barged in and immediately froze — you were sleeping with your arms over your belly and your light brown hair contrasting steeply with the white of the pillow and the paleness of your skin.

He sat on the bed next to you and held your hand. The shadow around your eyes was almost faded, and he could sense the black leather you were wearing hanging by a thread. His first thought was to help you somehow, and the only thing he could think of was to give some of his essence to you.

He leaned in and kissed your hands, and you sucked in a breath. He looked at you and felt your desire as if you were whispering it in his ear with the softest of longings. Your eyeshadow was black again, but you were stronger than before. He could sense it in your lovely eyes — you needed a pick-me-up, but you were healing.

He looked down at your hands. “I didn’t think you could lie, but I worried. I’m happy you’re healing.”

You tried sitting up. “I’m sorry. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I’m happy I did.”

His heart was pulsing strongly in his chest at the chance of being reunited again, and you reached to brush his cheek. “I don’t like seeing you hurt.”

“Can you imagine how I feel, then?”

He held your hand to his cheek and your gaze. He was crazy, but he wasn’t fighting it. In his endless existence, nothing had ever felt like that. And the way you moved to draw him nearer, to have his forehead touch yours as if you needed his embrace to feel safe, had him feeling all sorts of things he didn’t know were possible.

“I don’t want to worry you.”

Your whisper didn’t annoy him or hurt him because he could see. “But you know I do. And you know why.”

Your blue-sky eyes rose to him. “Is that possible?”

He squeezed your hand. “It is.”

You faced him with concern and knew he could see it. You were afraid of being deceived, of having a weak heart that couldn’t see the truth. He was a lust demon, maybe wanting things was his way. But as an angel, lust wasn’t the emotion in your heart. It could be passion and desire, yes, but they were connected to another emotion that you weren’t sure a demon could feel.

“Will you tell me the truth?” you asked, fear emerging but quickly soothed by your temperance.

“I would never lie to you.”

You faced his dark eyes, which you had come to dream of every night. “Is what you’re feeling lust?”

“Not purely.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I desire you, but it’s not the only thing I feel.”

“What else… is there?”

He gripped your hand firmer and let his cheek slide until his nose could rest against your warm skin. “Something deep. Something tender that I don’t want to force or abuse. Something sweet that elevates my existence with thoughts of you. I don’t know what it is. I’d say it’s a flower, but flowers’ roots don’t reach as deep.”

“Is that… possible?” Your voice was a whisper, and he faced you again.

“I don’t know. I’m figuring it out as we go.”

You sat a bit better and made a decision. “If I asked you something, would you tell me?”

“Yes.”

“Would you tell me your name?”

He blinked; he knew what knowing the other’s name meant. He knew, and he didn’t care.

“My name is Jun—”

You covered his mouth. It touched you deeply that he would share something so precious with you. You were celestial beings on opposite spectrums, but the rules applied the same. Knowing someone else’s name was to have unparalleled power over them. Not even your captor had ever learned your name, regardless of the torture method he used. You would have died with that secret; it was your most important possession. Your self.

He was looking at you with patience as if he wished for nothing but that time between you, and you wished for the same. You saw the shine of that deep feeling in his eyes, and you let your heart give in for a beat — you felt the same. You felt absolutely the same way as he.

So you lowered your hand from his mouth and reached closer until your lips met.

He was caught off guard. He never thought an angel would— Well, weren’t kisses off-limits or something? The gateway into perdition or sin? But he didn’t question you, he wouldn’t. He didn’t care about any of those things; he was kissing you for the first time. And it filled his chest. It gave him air he never thought he needed, energy he never knew he could feel, and confirmed that whatever was taking root in his chest was real.

The stories were bullshit. You together were not impossible, you were not incompatible, and you could very well nurture the most sacred feeling of all. Even if it was forbidden, his heart was beaming. It had to mean only one thing.

He didn’t want to stop, but he let you pull away to recover your breath. He opened his eyes and grinned; your eyeshadow was as cobalt blue as the day he first saw you, and you felt stronger than before. Knowing he was the reason you felt revitalized made him grin shamelessly. You smiled at his glee, and you chatted for a while more before he had to leave. You were worried about seeing him again, but he reassured you.

“We have the letters, and eventually they’ll relent the search. You feel stronger already, soon you’ll be healed enough to fly away.”

You pressed your lips with concern. “And if I am? Healed enough?”

He had turned to look at you, and you saw it: a hint of possession before it fizzled out. “Then you call for me in a letter. I’d like to say goodbye.”

You didn’t hide the pain the thought caused you, and his eyes softened, though the corners of his lips remained down.

“It will be okay,” he had turned to you instead of reaching for the curtains to step out onto the balcony. “You’ll be free and safe.”

You reached your arms around him, holding him while you worried for his safety. You wondered if he could be found out, if you could become the reason he was cast out, tortured, or destroyed. Your heart couldn’t bear it.

You pulled away, and his kiss was waiting for you, stealing your thoughts for a brief moment. When you opened your eyes, you could see that it was part of his intent.

“I’ll see you soon.”

If only he could see you more.

Every day was torture, knowing that eventually his time with you would end and he would never see you again. He had moments of adoration, of wishing he could take care of your every need at every waking moment. But he also had moments of anger, of wishing he could carve his heart out and stop feeling that retched way. Because he would lose you. You were perfect, the perfect match to his anomaly, the untold impossible cause of a demon swaying his depraved ways, and for what? He would lose you regardless. He would, for your safety. He would because he wanted to set you free. He would because your well-being was more important than his selfishness.

He would groan in the night, lying on his bed, thinking of you while he indulged in a sin you would have disapproved of. But he was a demon after all, and he saw every other soul living their dreams but him. They would bask in their appetites, savoring the deepest desires hidden beneath all layers of civility and ethics, and step into the light as souls true to their nature. He had indulged in it himself for as long as he could remember; demon, human, or otherwise, it mattered little — the soul’s beauty was what mattered. But now he couldn’t. His fire wouldn’t waver in their presence anymore, and it felt pointless. Not the pleasure itself, which he knew could feel good, but it wouldn’t ever scratch what it could feel like with you. He knew he’d never feel it — you were an angel. Not an asexual creature by any means: no one could hide desire from him, not even you, and purity angels existed as well, which meant that to be chaste, one would have to be able to feel lust as well. But still, he doubted you would ever indulge in such a desire, even if you had it. Though he never thought he would abstain from his, and there he was.

He observed the other demons and souls as they searched and indulged in their pleasures, but he remained quiet and absent-minded. It wasn’t like an endless orgy in every direction swayed him anymore, and he was doing his part just by being there. His presence was enough; he never had to lift a finger — before, he just wanted to.

Another demon from the circle climbed onto the stage where Jungkook was just lying and observing the crowd. The naked demon was laughing, covered in fluids of many kinds, but still thirsty. Jungkook ignored him and focused on a soul he noticed was staring and getting distracted. He reached out with his hand, and it was as if the stage moved closer, within the soul’s reach. It was a woman with dark brown eyes, long, fiery hair, and skin that glistened with sweat every time she took a breath. Her eyes were fixed on him with adoration while she jerked a man off, who was busy with someone else, and another woman with short blond hair plunged her mouth into her center.

Jungkook kept his arm outstretched, and she raised hers, meaning to touch him. She had been thinking of him ever since she first saw him. It started with curiosity, with wanting to know more, but then it evolved as the want blazed in her heart. Now she was thinking of him fucking her mouth and using her lewdly, and he just looked at her. She would never be able to touch him unless he wanted it, which he didn’t, but his gaze was enough. One more second of his dark eyes and she could feel his nails gripping her hair as he plunged so deep in her mouth, she choked and drooled uncontrollably. She closed her eyes with a deep moan, a fulminating orgasm electrifying her nerve ends, and he withdrew his arm, returning the stage to where it was.

“Why not make her dreams come true?”

Jungkook shrugged. He didn’t have to justify himself.

The other demon chuckled. “Why not let her suffer, then?”

The demon didn’t wait for Jungkook’s response and jumped into the crowd again. Jungkook took a deep breath. He was not a sadist; he was the delicious temptation that always kept their promise of becoming something better. Different demons had different roles. But why had he helped her…

He let his head fall on the stage floor and wondered about it. Maybe because he wished the same grace could be granted to him. Perhaps because he now knew how much a heart could truly yearn and suffer from absence. It wasn’t the same, of course. What he had for you in his heart wasn't comparable, but still. Small blessings.

He felt the instant the Archdemon entered the plane, and Jungkook purged his thoughts immediately. He couldn’t risk even thinking of you in his presence. The Archdemon had absolute control over everyone, including Jungkook.

“Ah, Jungkook. Are you going to perform something?” He laughed smugly, and Jungkook just moved to the center of the stage. His mind was on his dance and performance, and he kept going for as long as the powerful being wished it.

His thoughts only flew back to you once he was in his own plane to rest. He didn’t regret meeting you, desiring you, or transcending his feelings into what many thought was barred from the chests of both demons and angels. He felt inexplicable things because of you, he knew more, and he reached deeper. He grabbed himself with nothing but the thought of you opening your arms and inviting him in. The dream of feeling you turned his dark soul incandescent. That was who you were to him.

So to keep you safe, he stayed away, watching every grain of sand pass towards its inexorable end. The Archdemon never stopped his searches, so it was a countdown to have you escape before he could find you.

He thought this race would be tense, but just a moment in time. Soon, you’d call him to say goodbye, and he'd watch you fly to your freedom, taking with you all these heartfelt emotions. He would think of you and dream of you, and you would be safe, spreading your generous nature to everyone you met. He was bittersweet about it, but accepting.

What he didn’t plan was that the world would suddenly shake, even from within the Archdemon’s layer of hell. Jungkook instantly got up from his couch, alarmed, the same as the other demons overseeing that crowd of souls. Something big had to have happened for such a shockwave to reach them, and he later learned what it was.

You were not confined to your room at The Grandeur. You wouldn’t interact with any other demon or stay in anyone’s presence long enough, but watching the sky and either the sun or the moon gave you peace. You were on one of your escorted limousine rides when demons started intercepting the vehicles, looking for something, and you grew nervous. You couldn’t deceive or lie, you thought, gripping the black leather to your chest. Your presence could be masked, but one look at you and they would know.

Your anxiety grew to the point that your power rose to the surface, with the instinct of survival flooding you. You couldn’t control your anxious heart, and as such, your grace was acting on its own. Fortunately, the minions with you intercepted you in time. Suddenly, you had familiar faces inside the limousine, balancing your light with their shadow, and you thought of him. If you were found, they would know who those minions answered to, and he would be caught. He would be tortured and broken apart for daring to even look at you, and you couldn’t bear the thought.

So, you turned inward in meditation and focused on his essence within you. It was usually scorching hot and indomitable like a wild animal pushed to a corner with nowhere to go. But today, you didn’t stay respectfully away; you couldn’t. Today, accepting him wasn’t enough: his essence had to overflow from your pores and mask yours.

You stayed focused in this effort until you were worn out, drained from suppressing your shine to let his darkness beam somberly. You were about to pass out when you opened your eyes, the vehicle moving, you didn’t know where. All you could do was raise your hand with a folded message that only he could read before you blacked out.

Jungkook later learned you had passed the patrol, but your energy was still detected. He knew as soon as he saw you lying unconscious in your bed — your light was being oppressed, and you needed to leave. He kissed your forehead to transmit his darkness to you, and you took a deep breath, needing only one second to recognize him and jump into his arms.

“I was almost caught!”

He held you closely, supporting your head gently. “Almost.”

“I think… I think I used your essence too much.”

“Or not enough,” he argued, looking deeply into your sky-colored eyes when you moved away. “Your light provoked a shockwave that was felt. Everything shook to the deepest corners of this hell. He knows you’re still here, and he will turn everything upside down to find you.”

“But—” Your eyes were glistening in confusion. “But I tried so hard!”

He brushed your cheek. “You can’t suppress your light, even if you want to. This time it worked and you escaped, but it won't a second time.” You frowned with sorrow, and looking into his eyes, he was even more sure. “And my darkness will no longer be enough. Once you’re strong enough, it won’t last.”

Your eyes widened in shock. “No! Don’t even think about it!” He grinned; your concern for him was adorable. “I won't keep consuming parts of you to stay hidden, that’s despicable!”

His grin widened as he looked down. “Maybe… But it would be a righteous way to go.”

“Don’t say that!”

Your voice shook with fear, but his grin never wavered. He cupped your cheek with a certainty you couldn’t understand. “Can you fly?”

You grimaced and tried to soul-search within yourself. “I’m… hurt, but… soon. Very soon.”

“How soon?”

“Tomorrow.”

Something dark crossed his eyes for a moment before he closed them, and you were anxious. Then, your soul shimmered, and you were filled with serenity.

“Tell me,” you asked, supporting his hand to your cheek. You waited for his dark eyes to come to you before you filled him with ease. You never thought it would be possible to affect a demon, but this one was different. You knew him inside and out.

“It’s time, but they’re tightening their grip. You won’t be able to leave in these circumstances.”

Your brow creased ever so slightly. He was right, but that was not what you had asked him.

“I’ll create the opportunity for you to leave.” Your eyes instantly told him you disagreed, but he continued, “I’ll summon every higher female demon to a performance. And you will come too.”

You were shaking your head, scared and confused. “They’ll catch me!”

“They won’t know you’re there. You’ll take enough from me that you’ll be just as dark as any of them.”

You blushed; you didn’t know if that was a good idea.

“But in my performance… I’ll sow chaos. I’ll make everyone’s darkest desires come to the surface, I’ll turn them crazy and wild. I’ll make them cross the line, and the Archdemon will be furious. He’ll send his lackeys, and everyone will run from his wrath. While he’s busy handling this, you’ll slip away.”

He was comfortable with his plan; he knew he could do it, you saw his confidence in his dark eyes. But something was unsettling him.

“When?” you asked.

He looked down and frowned. “Tomorrow.”

“Do you hate tomorrow?”

You still had difficulties interpreting the range of his emotions. He grinned. “I hate that I can’t stop it from coming.”

You couldn’t hate, and time was inevitable, as many things were. You reached for his hand. “Will we ever see each other again?”

He couldn’t face you, but the lines in his expression hardened.

“Come with me. Let’s run away together.”

His eyes jumped to yours. “You’d take me with you?”

Stars twinkled in your eyes as you smiled, and he was breathless. You genuinely wanted him by your side and were not afraid of what that would mean.

“I thought only humans could feel this way,” he confessed, eyes tracing your features with the utmost longing. He missed you as if you weren’t there in front of him. He yearned for you as if you were the brightest and most distant nightly star. He revered you in ways that would seem abhorrent to any other demon, but he couldn’t catch himself.

You smiled. “I never doubted we could. I have faith that every creature can embrace all states and emotions and still focus on the balance within themselves.”

“Aren’t we disturbing that balance?” His eyes darkened, and you only smiled at the caress navigating your skin. His tangible desire flowing around you didn’t bother you anymore.

“Not when you have become a part of it.”

His breathing stopped with his eyes boring into yours, but you stayed calm as ever. He heard you, and you spoke nothing but the truth. His essence could never fuse with yours, but it coexisted within you peacefully. Almost lovingly. He had to know of the feeling inside your chest; you never hid it. He was part of you now.

Yet he swallowed dryly, recoiling. “What if you fall?”

A delicate line showed between your eyebrows. “That would imply a sin.”

He scoffed, but his expression was sad, and you didn’t understand. You reached out to brush his soft cheek.

“Not every desire between two souls is a sin.”

He took your hand to cover his mouth and kiss the palm, and you could see it. He had fears, but he tried his best to disguise them.

“I’m not sure that’s true.”

You couldn’t suppress a chuckle at his white-and-black view of the universe. “A sin is also an irrevocable choice to do evil. Would I be doing evil, then?”

He shut his eyes, hiding in your hand. “I don’t want to find out…”

It was the first time you saw his fear, and you knew it was for you. He was so worried about you that he was rejecting you in every way.

You raised his chin. “Don’t be afraid.”

Your tone was firm despite your kindness, and his guts twisted as if he had been caught off balance. He was embarrassed, staring into your eyes as you saw so deeply inside him. But it was odd. He knew that with anyone else, he would have instantly rallied to protect his secrets, his core, and keep any risk away. But not with you. He wouldn’t lash out or push you away because you accepted him. He wasn’t afraid of being vulnerable with you. You carried his essence; whatever there was to know about him, you already did.

“I can’t help it…” he confessed, nuzzling your palm for comfort. “I don’t want you to fall just because—” He didn’t know how to say it, and you waited with a firm gaze. “I don’t want you to suffer for having crossed paths with me.”

Your resolve wavered for a second; was he saying that was all it meant to him? Just crossing paths? When you thought there was a feeling taking root in him in the same way as with you?

Your lips curved gently. “I understand.” You took a deep, pacifying breath. “If the Archdemon finds us, he will imprison you, torture you, or worse.”

His expression hardened — he knew what you meant. Yet your eyes watered with the pain that thought caused you.

“And yet you speak of my suffering for crossing your path.” You could have chuckled, but there was no mockery in you. “I can’t bear the thought of that happening to you.” Your voice wavered as you faced each other. Your soul was as open to him as it had always been. “I don’t want to exist if there’s no chance that I’ll ever meet you again.”

He lounged for your lips, his expression hardening at the softness of your kiss, the tightness in his chest, and the certainty that you only spoke the truth. That was your authentic heart, and he wanted to drink it as if he had been dying of thirst. He couldn’t hear you speaking of not existing, and he wanted to plunge into whatever ocean carried you so he could always stay near. He wanted to bask in your light forever, even knowing that it blinded him. Because he didn’t need to see, the way his heart was beating for you was enough. All you had to do was be, and he would follow.

He was lost in this reverie as he kissed you, grabbing your arms to loop them around his shoulders and sitting closer to hold you firmly. You saw it and stepped carefully, but you continued. You had to ask yourself what kind of desire that was and if it was pure, and every step of the way, you knew it was. You had made your decision, and if it turned out to be wrong, at least you knew you did it with a good heart.

His kiss deepened, and you knew what to do, against all odds. It was probably his essence within you guiding you. It felt overwhelming for a second, but he waited for you to match him. He didn’t want to overrun you or ensnare your senses; he wasn’t trying to steal your free will or instill temptation to make you sin. He was quite simply adoring you with his lips, and it tranquilized you because you could feel the heart beating underneath.

But suddenly he pulled away. He was frowning deeply, though he didn’t move very far. You looked up at him from where you lay under him on your pillow, and he opened his eyes. “Shouldn’t you… stop us?”

You reached out to brush his cheek. “I don’t want to stop.”

He was startled and held your wrist. “Wait.” He looked confused, but then he faced you again. “I’ve heard that before. Countless times. It’s the first step. I can’t help it, it’s my nature. But I don’t want to condemn you,” he sounded tortured, and he was about to move away when you grabbed him back to stay put.

“You’re assuming it’s a sin again. I asked you before: would I be doing evil?” His eyes were darker and darker; he was fearful, so you answered in his stead. “No. Uniting with you could never be an evil act. It’s as pure as any other expression of this feeling. I can adore you in words, in feeling, and in action. That can’t be wrong when it is true and pure in itself.” His eyes widened and glistened, and his expression still showed disbelief, so you sighed. “I can only know the purity of the feeling in my heart. If yours is different, tell me.”

He instantly shook his head and leaned to hold you closer. “It’s not. I feel the same. I feel crazy, none of this makes sense, but whenever I look at you, I just know.” You closed your eyes, letting his deepest truths caress your skin gently. But he hesitated. “Aren’t you… disgusted by me?”

“Are you?” Your question was simple, but he frowned. “Maybe I should be, I was with the others. But not with you. With you, I see and feel so much more that— There’s a balance. There’s just a cosmic balance.”

His dark eyes revealed his thoughts, and they were enough. You knew he agreed, you knew he felt the same way. You were entranced, like two opposite beings were meant to be, trapped to orbit the other without the ability to exit the magnetic field you created by yourselves. But it wasn’t bad, you thought, as he traced his lips down your neck reverently. It was inevitable, and you didn’t want to fight it. You had faith in the two of you and your hearts.

You were the one who, through kisses and caresses, decided to pull back the energy that covered you. It extended from his essence inside you, and yours, and without it, your body was fully revealed. He waited a moment before pulling away enough to look at your exposed body with a single look of solemnity before looking into your eyes. His gaze was grave because he understood — without your wings protecting you, or his essence, you were at your most vulnerable state, unprotected should anyone wish to harm you. That was how much you trusted him, and he took it seriously. He retracted his wings and all the protection they provided him as well, but you didn’t look down. Your eyes stayed on him as you smiled, and then you opened your arms, and he shook. He rushed to press his lips to yours, rattled with the opportunity blooming in front of him like out of a dream. For a moment, he believed he was asleep.

But soon you were kissing him with passion and looking to unite with him at all levels, and his fire raged. For a second right before he felt you, he saw in your eyes the water of temperance that created you. The water of longevity and forbearance that he could never hope to attain, but that he admired. Inside him, his craving was a fire threatening to burst out and consume you both, and he wondered how that was so. How was it that your temperance didn’t smother your passion, and his lust didn’t pervert him into derailing everything?

He only understood it when you finally connected both in body and spirit, like a key to a lock. He unlocked your potential from the clutches of austerity, and you unblocked a fervor that could burn without consuming. He felt it now, and so did you. Every time he thrust into you, attempting to intensify that carnal tension, you answered back, tightening, gripping, and holding. You were giving and receiving in a fire that didn’t have to reduce to ash.

You were ecstatic with the union of your bodies, never having felt such caresses or touches to your actual skin. You had almost died, and the only things to ever graze you had been blades and claws, just to make you suffer and bleed. But now you knew that it was possible to be touched and scratched in such a vulnerable form and not hurt. There was pleasure in the vulnerability, in the closeness, but you could sense there was more.

He was lost in the way you were together because it was as new and unique to him as it was to you. He had been with countless souls and felt innumerable bodies, and yet nothing compared to you. His deviating urges were satiated in a way because that was not what you were doing. He didn’t know it was possible ever to have that hunger quenched; he was a demon. He was condemned to starve for lust for eternity, and yet not with you. He pulled away from your kiss for a moment to confirm this: he was inside you, buried deep between your legs as he moved slowly; you were naked, lying on a pillow and holding his arms in support, cobalt blue eyeshadow emerging with your essence bubbling to the surface. You were beautiful, straight out of one of his wildest reveries that could never come to pass, but it did. You were real.

You knew that both of you were awestruck with your pleasures, but you sought more. Not out of greed, but because your sharing of each other was not yet complete. You wanted every part of you united with him, balanced between you in harmony. That couldn’t be achieved just with your physical bodies. It was time.

He lowered, each arm framing you sweetly as he kissed you, and your essence flowed to him like a brook. Surely and velvety, like a cloud coming to cushion and soothe any ache. He moaned in your mouth in a mix of ecstasy and relief, and you couldn’t help your bliss.

He parted your lips but stayed in the same place, breathing heavily as he looked into your light blue eyes. You had no idea how it would feel to him to have your light, but you were happy it didn’t hurt him.

He was blinded to anything else that wasn’t you, breathless with the sparks shining inside him like thousands of suns. You were the embodiment of elation, the bliss evoked by demons like him to convince others to seek a pleasure that was too utopian to achieve. But there was no deception there. You were not deceiving him with delusions of pleasure or illusions of grandeur. You were truly elevating him to another level of enlightenment, and his knees became weak.

He brushed your chin softly with his lips as tears filled his eyes. “You’re so—” His voice dissipated under such joy, but he wasn’t blinded. His eyes were wide open. “I don’t want to weaken you.”

You smiled, and he knew he had to protect you above all things. “I won't be. I’ll be filled with you, and you’ll be filled with me.” His instincts roared inside him, urging him to take you and keep you for eternity. “You’ll be stronger, and we’ll fly together.”

You brushed his sweaty hair falling over his eyes and nodded in assurance, and he fell on you again, kissing you. You exchanged essences, communing in spirit, and elevating your physical senses in a way that culminated in a blazing supernova, igniting both your senses. You felt it so intensely you thought you would have emitted light in that plane and across many others, alerting all demons in the seven hells, but fortunately, you didn’t. That radiance was only seen by both of you in each other and through each other.

It was so intense that parts of him disintegrated in pleasure, just to be reassembled again, like grains of sand fusing to create glass, only to be shattered and melted into cohesion again. He feared that it was the prelude of an event horizon and that the subsequent black hole would suck the both of you in for infinity, but he was at ease. Even if that happened, you would be united in eternity, and that could never be a bad thing.

Instead, and as you expected, your essences compacted together harmoniously, never mixing, only coexisting tenderly and nurturing. You came down from your high together with him and smiled at him before exhaustion took your senses.

When he woke up in the middle of the night, he was confused. In a good way, he felt as though he was waking from a million-year-long sleep, with his senses heightened, at the ready, strong, and cunning. He could face anything, but his eyes immediately fell on you. You were sleeping quietly under him, and he had slept on your chest, lulled by the sound of your heart and warmth from your arms holding him. There was no need to fight the battles of the world when you were right there in a moment that needed to be relished and cherished.

That was the moment he contemplated both of you, what you were doing, and all those emotions. He had a melody in his ears, a few words just about on the tip of his tongue, and a spell on his mind that would sew all the chaos needed for you two to run away. Together.

He brushed your sweet, light brown hair and realized that wasn’t enough. To escape, it wouldn’t be necessary more than his usual power, but he wasn’t his usual self. Not with your essence scintillating in every corner of him. He didn’t have to, but he wanted to exalt you and what you meant to him.

Later, you woke up and gently petted his raven hair. He was again on your chest, charmed by your pulsating heart, and when he looked up at you, you wordlessly requested a kiss that he promptly gave. Every time your lips brushed, he could feel the infinite in which your souls intertwined, and if he had wondered if there was a limit to that feeling, now he knew there wasn’t. There was absolute adoration in his chest, and if he ever doubted it, you just showed it to him again.

He was inside you again, both sinking into your body and mingling with your soul when you whispered, “Harder.”

The fire in him erupted like a flame fed on gasoline, and he knew it could risk becoming so overwhelming that it would consume you both, but it didn’t. He obliged your request, diving so deep into you that he feared you would hurt. You didn’t hurt; he could hear it in every breath, feel it in every particle, and you weren’t consumed. He was a powerful demon, further empowered by the strength of an angel, and even then, he did not harm you. He sought in you the answers, but you were tranquil—you didn’t have them, but you didn’t need them because you were balanced. And so he searched for his, and as you both exploded into new universes, he understood. He was reunited with his origin through you. It was as if he were back to creation at the zenith of his existence, yet without denying his true nature. Existence was meant to be experienced in this way, and he couldn’t go back. It wouldn’t make sense.

Your soul radiated with the last traces of your union, and you sighed, fluttering back to reality. You wanted him marked in your body and spirit, and it felt right. If you were caught, then at least you would remember that sensation. And you would for eternity because no other soul in the cosmos could fit yours like his. You knew the emotion that was now part of your soul, as it should be.

He had to leave to put things into motion. “The sooner it happens, the sooner we’ll be free.” You smiled as he reached the balcony, ready to fly away, but not without cupping your cheeks first for one last caress. “You’ll get an invitation, it will be signed JK—my initials. Worry about nothing other than being at ease. When the time comes, you’ll know what to do.”

You were already at ease, brimming with a confidence you suspected wasn’t entirely yours.

Your foreheads touched for a moment of affection and longing before he gave you a confident look, stepping back and flying away. You took a deep breath and readied yourself for the waiting. What were a few hours compared to an eternity in each other’s company?

Two hours later, you received the parchment that self-combusted before touching your hand. You eyed the underling, but he just nodded, and you were reassured. You could only read the fiery ashes because of his essence: In half an hour, JK.

You didn’t ask questions; you were more than ready for this event, and you stepped into the limousine. The trip was unimpressive; what surprised you was seeing him casually walking as you passed by. You lowered your window, but he just glanced and then at the horizon, where you knew others were gathering to reach the event in time. You couldn’t risk everything now, so you closed your eyes and let the vehicle take you. Soon, you saw the façade of a concrete building as sterile as the rest of the landscape, except for a golden ‘JK’ carved in the center of radiating traces of light. Your eyebrows twitched, thinking he had maybe risked a bit too much, but it wasn’t the time to question him, nor did you feel inclined to.

Your limousine was the first to arrive and stopped facing the stage of that hollowed construction. It wasn’t fancy, but you recognized it didn’t have to be. Other limousines parked on either side of you, and you could feel the animosity bubbling. The envy, the rivalry, the malice — whoever was inside those cars wanted something and was there to have it.

When you thought the tension would snap, you decided that being inside the car trying to peek wouldn’t work. You opened the moonroof and climbed out, moving to the front until you could sit with your legs to one side and support yourself on the opposite side with your hand. You could feel the jealousy saturating the air like smoke, but you couldn’t be bothered. The air also carried a familiar energy, and the show was about to start.

The music suddenly started, and dancers wearing black started pacing and crossing paths all around the stage until he appeared from in between them to dance with them. You were surprised; he meant a musical performance? As far as demonic rituals go, you hadn’t expected it. Also, he was wearing a white V-neck crop t-shirt alongside his black pants, and you held your breath. As he danced, he looked up at you, and you shivered; he wasn’t hiding it, but neither were you. Your eyeshadow was black, matching every single piece of cloth reverberating from his essence inside you. Black-heeled boots and tight pants followed by a semi-transparent waist cincher corset. Above it, from your chest, two cloth strips stemmed that covered your chest in both directions and were tied chaotically over your right arm in a sleeve. As he danced in perfect synchrony with his dancers, his dark eyes were set on you until he stepped his foot once, and you felt the air shift — the spell started.

His lips moved, though what answered was a distant echo of his voice, “Standing next to you.”

His foot pressed on the base of the microphone stand, raising the microphone to his lips, and it was just him. “Play me slow, push up on this funk, and give me miracles.”

He twirled with the stand and closed his eyes, and you knew it would work. You didn’t know if those words touched you so deeply because of what you had shared together, but even you weren’t indifferent to his charm.

“Make it known: how we left and right is somethin' we control.”

He circled the stand, and you felt weirdly hot, as if you had been summoned, called by your name to replace the stand.

As if he heard your thoughts, he faced you with dark eyes and beckoned you to come closer before singing cleanly as he contoured your shape in the air, “Screamin', I testify this lovin'.”

Your heart shook; his words. He had actually named—

He stepped to the side while his dancers flocked around him, holding the microphone stand to give him a voice as he kneeled, as if in a plea or prayer. “Screamin', I testify that we'll survive the test of time, they can't deny our love.” He grabbed the microphone and stood clear, facing anyone who would hear him, but with his eyes inevitably set on you. “They can't divide us, we'll survive the test of time. I promise I'll be right here.”

The voices echoed around you, but you were starstruck, trembling as he danced and echoed something neither of you had dared to say aloud. Something you wanted all universes to know, but would have never imagined he would proclaim so blatantly. It was insane.

He told of how deep that feeling went before the lights flashed to the wild beat. Then he twirled, and a black jacket covered him, formed with sparkly metal chains that you recognized. He was showing parts of you, tempting fate with such confidence. As if his words weren’t enough, as if you weren’t facing him on that stage on the front row with his dark eyes set on you at every given chance. He knew he was too strong for any of them to detect it, especially since he had your love.

He was so in it, he felt like an incandescent star. That was his game, his nature. Enticing and ensnaring were things natural to him, and his effects were fatally effective. Even demons wanted to see him perform for the chance to burn in that lustful desire that only he could create. And yet, those were not his thoughts this time around. He had voiced his soul regardless of the chaotic spell he was trying to cast, and as he did, images of you running away inside the Archdemon’s den flashed through his mind. He was there, thankfully, and he had found you. He danced as he remembered your state clearly; he would protect you forever.

“Afterglow, leave ya body golden like the sun and the moon.”

His hand slid slowly to his crotch, and you tilted your head, knowing the feral scent in the air couldn’t be avoided. His spell did not enchant you; you saw beyond its crude nature, but the echo replying, You already know, gave you goosebumps. It wasn’t obscene, and it wasn’t meant to ensnare you, but you knew of all the ways you intertwined. More than that, it wasn’t his main focus, because when he again proclaimed his love for you, he looked at you and placed his hand over his heart. He was singing about staying by your side forever because of that feeling that no one could deny, when his dancers fell back into a circle around him as he stood, reaching for the light above. You were touched; he saw you as a miracle that would take him high and beyond, worth any obstacle.

Then he looked down at you and repeated, “They can't divide us, we'll survive the test of time. I promise I'll be right here.”

You had underestimated him — his capability and his power. As he performed body and soul, you met in another plane parallel to that one, but exclusive to you both. That was why you had white over your skin, and he black — two opposite essences that now flowed freely through both of you.

You heard him in both planes when he declared he would stand in the fire next to you, and you felt it. His dark eyes lit a familiar flame that could withstand your flowing waters of temperance as if they were flammable. You didn’t mind it, whether he was alluding to the fire of hell that would torture you both for eternity should you get caught, or the supernova blast of when you fused body and soul.

Everything about the performance was intense: his sharp eyes, powerful voice, preaching lyrics, and almost aggressive dance moves as he cast a spell that would soon discharge all the tension that had been building up. You knew it, you could feel it, and yet in another plane, he was gently caressing your cheek. His eyes were firm, almost possessive as he claimed that love couldn’t be taken away by any external force, and you almost smiled. No, indeed. It couldn’t.

Echoes of his voice sounded all around again and again — he would stand next to you. He wanted you to know it, and you did. You also knew it was the calm before the storm, and it was confirmed as the underlings walked to the space immediately after the stage. He bid your eyes to stay on his and not face what was to come. You could feel the jealousy sparking in the air, charged with a desire and envy to feel such a way, and with him. You couldn’t feel such an emotion yourself, and you wouldn’t — you were sure of you, and his heart held no secrets.

Still, he stepped back, and his attire morphed yet again. A single long black jacket and pants sparkling with stars of your light, and you knew it was time. The music crescendoed, and his movements became sharp and aggressive as the fight broke out around you and you vanished, seemingly to protect yourself and escape. Through his essence, you could tell things were escalating with such power that the Archdemon was aware. It was a matter of time until his wrath descended there — your window of opportunity was small.

He jumped to the center, focusing intensely on something before his dancers formed the shape of enormous black wings spreading out from him, until his spell faded and the music ended. By then, the limousines had escaped, and time was ticking. You exited the shadow and stepped over the dusty, barren floor to get to him, leaving traces of water and sparkling energy behind. You weren’t paying attention; soon your energy would burst just the same as his.

He met you halfway, his dark, committed eyes on yours, and you faced each other. You were ready. Together.

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inhunenthusiast · 2 days ago

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“Gihun and Inho will never be canon”

Well idgaf because they already are to me.

There’s too many implications that leave room for their relationship to be interpreted as much more intimate and romantic than people want to see.

It doesn’t always have to be all black and white.

While it’s true that they’re not canon-confirmed, it’s still readable and hinted in the subtext.

The romantic connection isn’t just “made up” by shippers, it was always there. There’s more than enough parallels in their dynamic that makes sense for this kind of connection to develop between them and on top of that we can’t forget that the actors still have their instructions how to portray the character and the cinematography is always purposefully chosen to be symbolic. Director HDH especially mentioned the chemistry between LBH and LJJ multiple times already.

In my opinion, the involvement of also romantic feelings being part of Gihun and Inho’s dynamic, only adds another deep emotional layer to their already complex relationship.

Yes, squid game isn’t a romance but it’s also about humans learning the deepest parts of their selves, to be laid bare to what they feel and how they act upon it. I find the idea of Gihun being the one who makes Inho feel deeply again after such a long time of callousness beautiful and fitting.

It’s not a healthy love, it's very messy and toxic, but it fits the story. There's obviously also a lot of negative feelings and trauma that weighs heavy. But their strong connection and their intertwined fate would be what makes the change in the end.

Even if the outcomes will be different in season 3, without them coming to a mutual understanding and reconciliation, it wouldn't make their relationship less meaningful or intimate to me.

Because it still wouldn’t erase what once existed between them and how they influenced each other. Their paths were always destined to cross.

Hwang Dong-hyuk: “Thinking about their characters, they had the same journey but chose different fates. That’s the perspective I had from the start for these two characters.”

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aesthetictarlos · 3 days ago

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hiiii allie! <3 i would love to request #2 from the list - falling asleep on the other's shoulder. mwah!

Leashy, I'm so sorry it took me this long 😭 thank you for the prompt, I hope you enjoy!

Buck is the happiest he's ever been. A golden band adorns his ring finger, his husband is sitting next to him, holding his hand, and they're about to fly back home after three wonderful, blissful weeks of traveling around New Zealand for their honeymoon.

It was great, exploring another country together, making new memories and getting to know new people, new traditions, new places.

“I can't believe our honeymoon it's already over,” Tommy says, adjusting on the uncomfortable chair in the airport waiting area.

“Yeah, it feels like we arrived yesterday,” Buck replies, resting his head on Tommy's shoulder. “I definitely want to come back, New Zealand is a great place. I felt so connected to nature.”

“For a minute I was worried you wanted to leave everything behind and move here,” Tommy teases, kissing his hair. They joked about buying a cabin in the woods or a seafront house and the idea was actually very appealing for them both.

“I'd never leave you behind, husband,” Buck promises, nuzzling Tommy's neck. “You're stuck with me now.”

Tommy flushes, still not used to Buck calling him husband, to the way his voice sounds when he's pronouncing those seven letters. It still feels like a dream sometimes and even if their honeymoon just ended, they're still going strong in the honeymoon phase.

“Glad to hear that, husband,” Tommy says, curling an arm around his shoulders. He can tell Buck is half a minute away from falling asleep; they woke up early to get to the airport on time and they had a busy schedule to be able to see lots of places in three weeks so they're both tired.

Buck sighs contentedly and burrows himself further into Tommy's neck, scrunching his nose up. His lips part around a gentle breath and Tommy is, once again, mesmerised. He can't help but stare at him, tracing his soft features with his eyes, mapping his face all over again, like he couldn't already draw it by heart.

Buck's left hand is splayed on Tommy's thigh and he can't tear his eyes away from the wedding band on his finger, glistening under the natural light coming from the huge windows. No one can see the engraved words safely tucked against Buck's skin but he knows they're there as an incomplete quote without the ones burning against his own skin. We were together. I forget the rest.

It took a while to choose the words they wanted on their wedding bands but when Buck suggested that quote from Walt Whitman, Tommy knew it was the one. It’s perfect for them, always getting lost in each other, always teased by their friends because when they're together, it's like they're in their own little bubble and the world doesn't exist anymore.

The waiting area is crowded and a bit noisy but Tommy only has eyes for his husband, asleep on his shoulder, and only has ears for the little snores he's making. They're together and he forgets the rest.

#bucktommy #tommy kinard #evan buckley #tevan #kinley #allie writes #my fic #my writing #bucktommy ficlet #buck and tommy

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wonio · 3 days ago

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love is a bruise‎ ‎ ﹔ ‎ ‎ ‎parkjongseong

fem! reader ✴︎ prologue college au introspective romance fluff soft angst wc 1.8k ( y/n's pov ) warnings before you read mentions of stress, family pressure, emotional hurt

• ‎ ‎ ‎ a story about timing, silence, and the kind of love that changes you. she didn't believe in fate⎯until he made her believe in something more. now he's back, and she's not sure what to do with the pieces left behind.

fate is a strange thing. not the kind of strange that makes you curious⎯more like the kind that makes you wonder if anything was ever really in your hands to begin with. i used to think that fate was a fairytale. something people told themselves when life didn't go the way they wanted. i don't believe in signs, or soulmates, or the idea that the universe was ever on anyone's side. because some of us don't get to believe in stuff like that. some of us grow up too fast. we learn how to keep our heads down, to carry the weight of others like it's second nature. we learn that silence is sometimes safer than hope. and that being loved is a privilege, not a given. i didn't have space for fate. not when i was busy trying to be perfect. not when i had people depending on me. not when life was a carefully drawn map i wasn't allowed to step off from. responsibility came first. my siblings, my family, their expectations. the kind of love i knew was duty, not warmth. i guess what's why i never saw it coming⎯ him. park jongseong. jay park. the person who ruined every rule i'd written for myself. the person who made me question everything i thought i knew about love. because love, to me, was never gentle. it wasn't safety or comfort. it was loud. painful. something that slipped through your fingers the moment you started to want it. and when jay came into my life, he didn't ask for permission. he just.. existed. soft in all places i was hardened. patient when i couldn't even be patient with myself. and god, i hated him for it. because the more i tried to push him away, the more he stayed. he made me laugh when i didn't want to. he looked at me like i wasn't broken. he made it so easy to forget why i built walls in the first place. and i let him in. slowly, quietly, without realizing that he was already in every part of me. but not all stories are meant to stay soft. we broke. and when it ended, it didn't feel like an explosion. it felt like an echo⎯one that kept repeating in my chest long after he left. losing him wasn't just heartbreak. it was losing a version of myself i'd only started to know. and for a while, i told myself it was over. i learned how to live with the quiet. how to stop waiting for messages that would never come. how to breathe again without looking for him. but fate⎯ fate doesn't care about timing. it doesn't care if you've healed or if you're still bleeding. it brings people back when you're least ready for it. and now, he's here again. in the same city. under the same sky. with the same voice that used to say my name like it meant something. i don't know what i'm supposed to do with this. i don't know how to look at him without remembering every version of us. the almosts. the late nights. the things we didn't say. but maybe.. maybe fate is less about destiny and more about choice. maybe it's not about waiting for things to happen, but about letting yourself believe that something good can happen again. even after everything. and if seeing him again is fate's way of testing me⎯ then maybe this time, i won't run. this time, i'll stay.

by wonio if this doesn't flop, i'll write jay's pov as a continuation of the story ><

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sapphosscribe · 3 days ago

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Great answer about how you manage to write consistently. Um, just one question - how do you write with ADHD? Maybe it's just me, but sometimes when I try to write it just comes out unnatural, I don't know where I'm going with my thoughts (even when I know exactly what I want to describe sometimes the words just won't come together) or I'm just describing without putting emotions in. And after like 20 minutes of doing so I MUST switch to a YouTube video, preferably a MV/performance video.

Also a huge issue for me - I feel like if I just sit down to do it then I'll forget that everything else around me exists and I just... Won't do the "necessary shit" (aka school/job, chores, etc.), but I still procrastinate on Necessary Shit™ and end up doomwatching YouTube. It's like I'm afraid to live my life to the fullest just to do this exact thing, but if at least feels safer??? Hate it!

This is SOOO relatable 😫.

Honestly trying to do ANYTHING with ADHD is not for the faint of heart.

Planning, planning, planning. I CANNOT stress enough how insanely helpful it is for me to have not only a plan for the story, but a plan for each individual chapter.

I try to aim for the sweet spot between planning so intricately there’s no room to let it breathe and just allowing the characters to do whatever to the degree I’ve completely lost the plot 😂😂.

I’d say the issues you’re having with describing without emotions or rambling is something I resolve in two different ways.

1) I look to my characters. Just like real life, no one in the scene is just standing around existing. They have their own thoughts, feelings, and motivations about what’s going on around them. I refer to this in my head as letting the story breathe. The characters often have a mind of their own. Sometimes I’ll realize that, based on something already established about their background, they’d be acting in a certain way or do something different then what I have planned and it helps make it feel more authentic. Keeping in mind what your characters want and what they’re actively trying to achieve in each scene can help with descriptors.

2) This might be a hot take but, honestly, let yourself ramble. Sometimes I’ll think I’m saying way too much much stuff in a chapter or the pacing is off, then I’ll go back and read it and it’s perfectly fine. I think of it like cooking food. It can take over an hour to bake something and it feels exhausting and like you’ve made a lot of mistakes along the way, but it’s just because you’re standing there measuring things out and adding ingredients. When you actually TASTE what you’ve cooked it all blends together into something much simpler.

No matter what you say, you can always clean it up in editing. The first draft is just you telling yourself the story and even if some of it turns out not to be usuable, you’ve probably learned something about your characters that will help you write them better later on.

This might also sound really weird but the way I structure my chapters and story follows the formula you might use to write an essay 😂😂

Before I do anything else with my story. I pick a theme, something that I’m trying to say/prove, the point of the whole thing, and I treat the rest of the story as evidence for that theme.

Each Act is a big piece of ‘evidence’ to support my theme and then each chapter in the arc follows emotional and plot beats to create that evidence.

Since Act 1 is already over I can use it as an example, though I’m not giving away the story’s overall theme. You can figure that out.😉

My big piece of evidence in Act 1 or my ‘big thought’ that connects to the main theme is “Bill’s current moral bankruptcy isn’t from a place of outright malice, but unprocessed trauma”. Then I planned out the structure to prove it: Bill crashing out spectacularly while trapped in human form by self harming, his relationship with Mabel forming transactionally, Bill trying to control Ford because Bill feels like he needs that to feel secure rather than having an equal partnership, The Axolotl and the first few flashbacks giving context to some of Bill’s actions, and closing out with the big moment between Ford and Bill at the party where he admits he cares about Ford for more than just what he could get from him.

Once I’m satisfied that I’m building the story toward what I’m trying to prove. I move on to the next section. So that’s my wild scientific method approach to big writing projects or even small ones!

As for the “forgetting to do necessary shit”. I set timers for how long I’m going to do what I’m doing and, once they go off, I give myself a few minutes to finish up whatever I’m working on and switch tasks. You can also use this in other areas of life. It’s been super helpful for me when balancing out work and leisure, but if it doesn’t work for you that’s fine too. Everyone’s different.

Procrastinating on “Necessary but unpleasant shit” I try to minimize by making it fun somehow. I plan my schedule a day in advance so I know what’s coming and if it’s a task I find difficult I try to add some element of fun to it. I turn on music or an audiobook when I clean and cook or wear an outfit that makes me feel good. I personally HATE exercising, so I bought a tiny treadmill and instead of sitting watching tv in the evenings, I put the tiny treadmill down and walk on it while watching something I like.

I also try to reframe thinking about the things I don’t want to do in a positive way. Folding the laundry means I get it out of my chair I like to sit in and read books. Vacuuming the floor is getting rid of bad energy and making the carpet soft again. Try to approach things as an adventure rather than a chore. Some stuff can be harder than others to grapple with, but, to quote the jogging Monkey in Bojack Horseman “Every day it gets a little easier, but you’ve got to do it every day. That’s the hard part. But it does get easier.”

Not to get all philosophical, but we only do have this one life. Even if it’s quiet and ordinary or hard sometimes, it’s better to try not to hate it or see just going through your day as something to dread. I’ve found that there’s actually a lot of tiny little things to love around every corner if you go looking for them.

If new things are making you uncomfortable, try what I like to call ‘safe spontaneity’. If I get unsatisfied with what I’m doing I’ll do something small that’s new and adds variety. Try out a new restaurant or a new type of food for one meal. Take 30min-1hr to learn about something that interests you outside of what you normally look at (I say having just finished two documentaries about Oceangate 😅😅). Find tiny ways to switch things up so you still have predictably and structure, but you add something new and grow your world a tiny bit more. Even if you end up hating whatever it is, at least you know you don’t like it and not to do it again! Allow yourself to grow and change at your own pace 🥰💗💗.

This was REALLY long and probably too much information, but I hope it helped!

@anon-22866634

#fanfic #writing advice #adhd #adhd problems #adhd brain #also maybe life advice??#I got a little off topic #it’s the adhd #answered asks

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thealias0 · 2 days ago

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So, I've got a Deltarune theory of my own regarding the ending of The Prophecy. I'm most likely not the first one to come up with it but so far haven't seen it discussed online much so here i go.

In my opinion so far with the information we've got, the most likely prophecised tragic event is sealing every single dark fountain, including Castle Town, for good. I've seen this specific interpretation floating around, but i haven't seen any substantiation yet.

I think i've found something that makes it the most appealing theory out of any other i've seen yet.

Let's get the obvious out of the way. This would make Susie very distressed. She made friendships with Lancer and Ralsei and it clearly is somewhat of a safe space for her. She loves this place and her actively getting rid of it alongside all the friends she made there sounds awful and absurd.

Now for the more compelling part of that theory. The thing i realised points very strongly towards this direction is Ralsei's attitude towards himself and Darkners in general. His room is literally empty and never tried his own cooking. Everything he ever does is for the sake of Kris and Susie (the only Lightners he meets on a daily basis), even calls himself "selfish" for having any desires at all and probably most importantly for the sake of this theory, after revealing the truth about the nature of Darkners to Susie, he asks her to forget about not only him but all Darkners in general and not worry about their fate. This nihilistic-esque behavior might be explained by the knowledge of "being an illusion", but we know that many Darkners are aware of that, but only Ralsei displays such an attitude and Ralsei is the only one we know so far that knows the whole Prophecy.

What if he knows that in the end his and every other Darkner's existence will end with the end of the Prophecy, so he figured what's the point in chasing happiness and relationships. Notice how detached he is from all the residents of Castle Town. In chapter 3 he even attempted to convince Susie to be detached as well. It will be less painful to fulfill this prophecy if you just stop caring about Darkners. The only people he ever truly cares about are Lightners and that's because they are the only "real" beings, so being nice, friendly and caring to them won't be for nothing, as they won't be gone in the end.

This theory isn't without holes tho

If it's true then why is he so insistant on recruiting Darkners? It sure would be much easier to just be mean and not make any attachments at all and in the end just seal the empty Castle Town, right?

Well, according to him that might have been the original plan, but he went against the prophecy in this regard and decided to be nice and friendly in hopes for the prophecy to change, which might have backfired.

So what do you think? I apologize if these are incoherent ramblings. It's 2am and the energy drink i took for study session didn't let go of me just yet lol

I might be wrong about Ralsei's dialogue too as im doing this from memory, so feel free correct me and call me a silly goober if i did mess up

#deltarune #deltarune spoilers #deltarune chapter 3 #deltarune chapter 4 #deltarune chapter 4 spoilers #deltarune chapter 3 spoilers #deltarune prophecy #deltarune theory

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lilywritingnook · 2 days ago

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HOME IS WHERE YOU ARE

Synopsis: Yujin saw you at a bar with someone else,and all of the past feelings resurfaced,which ends up in yujin knocking at your door at midnight,and you realized that your home was always her.

Pairing:Yujin x f!reader

A/N:As I said, English is not my first language, and I have never really tried writing. I took help from Grammarly and checked for mistakes, too, but still, if there are mistakes, feel free to correct me so I can learn more.

Yujin stared at the empty message box for minutes before closing it and returning to her work. She had better things to do—or at least, that’s what she told herself. She was an independent woman working at a law firm, with cases and clients waiting for her. She couldn’t throw it all away just because she’d seen her ex last night at the bar, all over some girl. No, Yujin was better than that.

She sighed, closed the open window on her computer, grabbed her coat from behind her chair, and stood up. She needed air—or maybe closure. Ignoring the knowing gazes of her coworkers, she made a beeline for the door and stepped out of the office. Taking a deep breath, she headed toward the only place that had once felt like home. She hadn’t planned on going there, not after that night, but she blamed her feet—and the time.

Twenty minutes of self-denial and contemplation later, she found herself standing in front of the familiar brown gate. The fairy lights were still strung across the door, and the small wooden board remained attached, "WELCOME" etched in bold capital letters. Yujin knocked.

Shuffling sounds came from inside, followed by a sigh, and then the door opened. Yujin froze—and so did you.

You’d expected a lot of things to happen today—maybe tripping down the stairs (you were clumsy as hell), spilling coffee on a customer again (working at a café had its hazards), or losing your AirPods for the hundredth time. But none of those possibilities included your ex, Yujin, standing at your door in her work clothes, staring at you with those big, shiny eyes.

"Hey," Yujin’s voice sounded strained, as if she hadn’t used it in a while or like she was holding something back. You doubted the latter.

You remained in the doorway, suddenly hyper-aware of the tiny camisole and your favorite pink shorts. It wasn’t like Yujin hadn’t seen you like this before, but modesty still existed.

"What are you doing here?" You hadn’t meant to sound so rude, but the words came out sharp anyway. You weren’t in the mood for small talk with your ex at nearly midnight.

"I was just passing by," she said, suddenly nervous. Her voice was small, and she fidgeted with her coat. You noticed she was still in her work clothes,not that you kept tabs on her. You’d just heard she worked at a law firm after the breakup, saving relationships when she couldn’t even save her own.

You almost scoffed. Just passing by? Lame. And what, she’d decided to drop by her ex’s place in the middle of the night?

"Come in." Hell, why did you say that? Apparently, your mouth had a mind of its own. Yujin looked like she’d been waiting for this opportunity her whole life because she immediately stepped inside, her shoulder grazing yours as she slipped off her shoes and walked into the living room.

You sighed, closing the door behind her. It was going to be a long night.

---

Yujin sat down across from you on the couch—her favorite spot. Back then, when you were still dating, she’d always sit there, whether it was movie night, cuddling in her lap, or other unholy activities. You tried not to think about it.

You grabbed the blanket from the side and draped it over your bare legs, which Yujin was staring at. She immediately looked away and cleared her throat.

You weren’t subtle either. You’d definitely noticed how her arms flexed in that suit, how it hugged her toned body. God, you remembered every inch of it—had licked and tasted it, those abs, the V-line, those biceps. How could you forget?

You shook the thoughts away.

“So, just passing by?” you repeated, arching a brow.

She nodded, then shook her head, staring at the floor instead of meeting your eyes.

“I actually saw you… last night. At the club.”

You frowned, trying to remember, then it clicked. You had been at the club. But what did that have to do with Yujin? Oh. Right. You’d been with a girl—some nameless, faceless stranger. Had Yujin seen you? Was she jealous? No. Right?

“Yeah, so?”

“I didn’t like it.” Yujin stood, closing the distance between you.

You held her stare, refusing to shrink back into the couch.

“You shouldn’t care what I do or not,” you said, though your voice betrayed the nerves buzzing under your skin.

Yujin crouched in front of you, a foot away. The faint scent of her cologne that woodsy, perfect smell—flooded your senses.

You leaned back, hands trembling. You hated that even now, she had this effect on you.

“I know. But I still do.” Her voice dropped. “And I know you do too.” She didn’t hide it, sliding a hand over your knee, rubbing slow circles.

Your breath stuttered at the familiar touch. You wanted to push her away and kiss her at the same time.

“Don’t,” you whispered, voice cracking.

“Don’t what? Pretend I don’t want you? Or pretend you don’t want this, too?” Her hand cupped your cheek, and fuck, you lost it.

You grabbed her tie and yanked her into a kiss. It tasted like desperation and something unnameable. She still tasted like bad decisions and mint gum—you hated that you remembered.

Her hand cradled the back of your head, the other gripping your waist, pulling you closer. You gasped, and Yujin swallowed the sound, slipping her tongue into your mouth.

You moaned. She smirked against your lips.

When she pulled away, she licked her lips, smug. Bastard.

Her tie was crooked from your grip, her hair messy, that infuriating smirk still in place. God.

“See? You do want me.”

You sighed, turning your head, but Yujin caught your chin, forcing you to look at her.

“Say it.”

“Say what?”

“That you still want me.”

“I don’t.”

“Liar.”

Her fingers trailed from your chin to your neck, and you shivered. She didn’t stop,down to your chest, then to the waistband of your shorts. Your breath hitched.

“So if I pull these down right now, you won’t be wet. Right?”

You clenched your thighs. Of course, you were wet. She knew it. You knew it.

“I’m not—”

Your words died as Yujin slid her fingers under the fabric.

You should’ve stopped her. Instead, you rocked your hips forward. Yujin’s smirk deepened.

She tugged your shorts down, and this time, you didn’t stop her. Too far gone to care about the slickness between your thighs, you let her push your underwear aside.

Her fingers found your clit with practiced ease—like she’d memorized every inch of you. She had.

You grabbed her bicep as she rubbed circles, then pushed two fingers inside. You screamed.

“Still think you can forget me and fuck some random girl at a bar?” She pumped faster.

Tears pricked your eyes. You tried to push her hand away, but your hips chased her touch. She curled her fingers just right, hitting that spot only she knew.

“I—Yujin—please—”

“Don’t stop?” she taunted.

“Please—”

“Wasn’t planning to.”

Two more thrusts, and you came, back arching, screaming her name. Yujin watched, satisfied, milking every shudder from you until you begged her to stop.

She pulled her fingers free with a wet sound and pressed them to your lips. You opened your mouth, tasting yourself, while she stared with dark pride.

Her other hand cupped your face. You leaned into it, boneless.

Yujin hauled you onto her lap, fingers threading through your hair. You melted.

“Sorry if I was rough,” she murmured. “I just… hated seeing you with that girl. I regret every day I let you go. I miss you. I love you. I was a coward.”

You looked up, tears drying on your cheeks, and shook your head.

“I missed you too. I thought if I met someone new, I’d forget you. But no one’s you, Yujin. No one could be. I love you. Guess we were both cowards.”

Yujin kissed your forehead. You curled into her chest, arms around her waist, not caring about sweat or wrinkled clothes.

You were home. The home that was always yours. The home that was always safe.

The home that was Yujin.

___

#ive #ive x female reader #ive x fem reader #ive x reader #ive x you #an yujin x female reader #an yujin x you #an yujin x fem reader #an yujin #ahn yujin x you #ahn yujin x fem reader #ahn yujin x reader #ahn yujin smut #ahn yujin #ive smut #ive imagines #lilyoneshots.☘︎ ݁˖

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xxfaithlynxx · 2 days ago

Text

Converging Lines

Word Count: 11.2k

Hearts In The Static

Strange musical interlude?

Warnings: Alternate Universe - Isekai, OC insert, Polyamory / Polyamorous Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Chronic Illness, Self-Esteem Issues, Slow Burn, Found Family, Emotional Healing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, body image issues, Unreliable Narration, Protective Male Characters, rivals to lovers (sort of), past trauma, Everyone Loves Her But She Doesn’t Know Why, Heavy Angst, Fix-It Fic (but of the soul) Mental Health Themes (Depression, ADHD, pcos, Chronic Fatigue Syndrome), Suicidal ideation (past), Self-Harm Mention (Non-Graphic Flashback), Emotional Abuse (Referenced past) - Freeform, Body Dysmorphia, Trauma Recovery, Discussion of Medical Symptoms, feelings of worthlessness, Slow Healing & Difficult Conversations, themes of death, Survival, and identity

╰──────༺♡༻──────╯

Chapter 11:

The dining table still had that faint smell of varnish and fresh lumber—like the promise of a life just beginning to form shape. I sat between Xavier and Caleb, my fingers curled around a mug I wasn’t drinking from. Rafayel lounged across from me, his arms draped over the chair like it was a throne, and Sylus—of course—was pacing. Not aimlessly. Calculated, coiled with purpose like he was about to brief us on an op that could end the world.

He looked at me first.

Then all of them.

“Let’s talk about what we know,” Sylus said, voice low but sharp. “About her arrival. About what’s changing. And about what that means.”

A knot pulled tight in my chest as four sets of eyes flicked toward me. I wasn’t sure if I was the puzzle or the bomb.

“She showed up unconscious,” Sylus continued, nodding in my direction. “Injured. Wearing a bodysuit no one in this world manufactures. Not even Onychinus. That means her appearance wasn’t just some coincidence. It came with a signature.”

Xavier leaned forward slightly. “A metaflux?”

“Worse,” Sylus said. “I encountered a fluctuation last night in the N109 Zone. Electrical fields were spiking. Streetlights blinking in sequence patterns that shouldn’t exist. Some buildings... were casting echo signatures. Like ghosts of something from somewhere else. The readings weren’t native.”

“You think she caused it?” Caleb asked, tone unreadable.

“I think she’s the convergence point,” Sylus replied. “Or at least tethered to it.”

Rafayel tilted his head at me. “Phone?”

I blinked. “My—?”

“Phone, cutie.” His fingers made a little ‘gimme’ motion. Reluctantly, I passed it over.

He tapped across the screen like he’d done it a thousand times before, entering contact after contact. Rafayel, Xavier, Caleb, Sylus. And—he paused a moment—Zayne. Of course. “Can’t forget Doctor Broody,” he muttered, flicking it back to me with a wink.

I stared down at the screen. The interface. The layout. The Moments tab. The News portal. Public posts. Forums. The colors. The swipe pattern. It was exactly like the game. My game.

My stomach twisted all over again.

“This isn’t just tech,” Caleb said slowly, voice now lower. “She knew things. About all of us. And not just surface details.”

“She knew who we were before we even spoke to her,” Xavier added, looking at me like I was made of starlight and wire. “That’s not intuition. That’s memory.”

“And memory,” Sylus said carefully, “shouldn’t transfer across dimensions unless something’s wrong .”

Something cold settled into my spine.

“And what if I was never supposed to be here?” I whispered, voice brittle as glass.

Sylus met my gaze, unreadable. “Then we find out why you’re here anyway. And what the universe expects you to do.”

No one said anything for a beat.

Then Raf leaned in, resting his chin on his palm. “What’s stranger? That she came here like this… or that none of us were surprised?”

I looked down at my phone again, thumb brushing over the screen like it might answer me.

I didn’t know what to think. I’d thrown myself off a bridge to escape my world—and woke up in one that seemed to be unraveling at the seams because of me .

And maybe the worst part?

A small, traitorous part of me wondered if I wanted this world to change.

I took a breath, hands steadying against the table’s smooth varnish. I didn’t want to speak—but something inside me couldn’t stay silent anymore.

“I—I know some of this,” I began, voice quiet but firm. “About the metaflux, Protofields, Protocores… the Tunnel.”

Their heads snapped toward me. Even Sylus paused.

“You mean you actually do know it all?” Rafayel asked, tone soft but incredulous. “How much?”

I swallowed. “Start with the basics—the Tunnel opened over Linkon in 2034. That’s when Wanderers began appearing. They’re creatures formed of metaflux. When a Hunter kills a high‑rank Wanderer, it drops a Protocore—cosmic energy you can use for power, experiments…” I squinted at them, focusing. “Xavier’s Crown Prince story—Skyhaven runs on a Protocore. The Tunnel’s energy explains so much.”

Caleb looked at me with that unsettling haze in his violet‑orange eyes—part wonder, part calculation.

“I know about Protofields too,” I continued, louder. “They’re alternate dimensions created by Wanderers during combat. Professor Shaylin discovered them—they’re real, physical spaces. Hunters call them extra danger zones.”

Xavier’s breath hitched. “And the tableaux? The energy drift she mentioned?”

“Yes. Protofield echoes. Echoes of spaces. And flux spikes.” I glanced at Sylus. “Like you saw in N109.”

He nodded slowly. “It’s validating to hear it all said out loud. Disturbing—but validating.”

Rafayel let out a low whistle. “You know why Evol and Aether Cores matter too?”

I nodded. “Aether Cores are separate to Protocores—only certain people can wield them. They can give you Resonance Evol powers. Sylus’ eye, Xavier’s link to Philos—all Aether stuff. They hold much more power.”

Raf chuckled softly. “Damn. You do know your lore.”

Xavier leaned in, voice gentle. “Why… do you remember it all so perfectly?”

I closed my eyes. “Because it was real to me. In my world, I wanted to disappear. My only solace was that game.”

A silence fell across the table. Heavy. Electric with truth.

Sylus exhaled slowly, and his tone softened. “So the world you came from… this was your life.”

I met his gaze. “Yes. And now it’s bleeding in here through me.”

Caleb and Rafayel shared a look. Then they returned their eyes to me.

“Thank you,” Sylus said, voice low but sincere. “Your memory… it’s not just knowledge. It’s evidence.”

Xavier nodded. “We’re going to need that. To figure out what this convergence is. How the Tunnel, your arrival, those anomalous fluctuations—all of it tie together.”

Rafayel tapped his knuckles over the surface of the table before a finger stuck out, pointing at my phone. “Now that your number’s on file, feel free to text us if the flashbacks hit.”

I half-smiled at him. The room felt warmer now. Less terrifying.

Less alone.

We all leaned forward as Sylus laid out what felt like a crisis plan, running parallel with the hum of possibility. His voice carved the tension into something manageable:

“Next steps,” he said firmly, “we map out the bleed. Find the hotspots. Start with anomalies in the city—power, flux, proto-signatures. We can’t wait for disasters.”

Xavier excused himself first and drifted toward the living room, remote in hand. He flicked on the smart TV, tuning it to a local news channel. “Let’s see if Linkon’s flicker was reported by civilians.” The screen showed anchor updates—missing pets, routine traffic alerts, nothing earth‑shattering.

“But that’s the problem.” Xavier’s voice throbbed through the room. “If this is baseline… we’re underneath the threshold. I’ll set my Hunter's Watch to really scan for metaflux spikes. If anything pops, I’ll know.”

Silence rippled with weight.

Rafayel tilted his head toward me. “What else do you remember? Countless things—like Protocores are drops of cosmic energy from Wanderers.” He motioned to me. “You nailed that, but anything more?”

My pulse buzzed. I inhaled.

“Wanderers—monsters formed from stray metaflux, emerging through the Tunnel from 2034 onward.” I paused. “Killed Wanderers release Protocores, which Hunters use for Evol—Evol that can resonate with Aether Cores. And Protofields—the alternate dimension bubbles Wanderers escape into… and we can follow them in,” I added, glancing at Sylus. “But it’s dangerous without Evol support.”

Raf’s eyes widened. “You didn’t just glance, that’s for sure.”

Caleb frowned. “You actually played how much did you—”

“Enough to know Hunter pair protocol. And that Hunter teams—like UNICORNS Alpha—require Evol pairs to enter dangerous no-hunt zones.” He looked at Sylus. “Does that track with your field logs?”

Sylus nodded. “It does.” He turned to me. “You’ve got more. What about Aether and Flux nexuses?”

I closed my eyes. “Aether Cores, Protocores with deeper resonance. They bind to strong Evolvers—like Xavier, Zayne… you via your eye, Sylus.” I drew a slow breath. “Flux nexuses are devices that capture stray metaflux energy, but they also destabilize—creating Protofield growth and drawing Wanderers. They’re why no-hunt zones expand.”

Xavier flicked the TV off and returned.

He sat beside me. “You’re… speaking our language. About our world—like you lived it.”

My throat tightened. I'd leapfrogged timelines and basically lived two lives.

Sylus leaned forward, voice low and urgent. “We need to track fluctuations. Instead of reacting, we hunt for precursors. If the world is already leaking—if your world is bleeding into ours—it matters.”

Rafayel tapped his fingers on the table. “We should monitor flux nexus locations, watch for hysteresis spikes. Could be a sign the convergence is accelerating.”

Caleb’s jaw set. “And if Wanderers start popping up out of nowhere, we know it’s not underground. It’s public.”

Xavier nodded, eyes drifting toward me. “We’ll calibrate the Watch, monitor anomalies. I’ll post a police‑grade manpower request discreetly. We need intel.”

I glanced between their faces. Strategizing felt… powerful. Less chaotic.

Sylus gave me a quick but kind nod. “Rest up as much as you can, Aven. Deep dive mode starts tomorrow.”

It felt like being handed a compass in a storm.

Rafayel reached across and squeezed my hand. “You’re in this—not just as the puzzle, but as the key .”

I swallowed, the knot in my chest loosening just a fraction.

Any world, real or imagined, was changing beneath us.

And we were burning a path straight through it.

Sylus straightened from leaning against the counter and squared his shoulders. “I’m heading to Onychinus HQ. I need to file our observations—bodysuit, relic phone, metaflux anomalies. The sooner we document them, the better.”

My breath hitched, but before I could answer, he walked over, stopped at my side, and leaned in to press his lips against my forehead. His voice was low as he whispered, “Rest, Aven. We’ll figure this out.” Then he turned and left, leaving a silence in his wake.

Caleb stepped forward, shirt half-buttoned over his sweatpants, his hand drifting to my elbow. He gave me a small, steady smile. “Hey.” I looked up to find his eyes soft and anchored on mine. He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Same. I’ll go with him.”

He kissed the top of my head gently. “I’ll be back soon.”

Then he followed Sylus out, leaving me with Xavier and Rafayel.

Rafayel was the first to close the distance, his fingers brushing mine. “That was… considerate.”

Xavier nodded, lingering in my peripheral vision as I processed the tenderness I’d just been gifted.

The quiet stretched, until Xavier cleared his throat. “What do you want to do now?”

I swallowed. Their departures had left an open space in the room—literal and emotional.

“…Have you guys heard of Destiny Café?” I said softly, breaking the hush. My heart jumped as their expressions shifted, surprised and curious.

“Yes, that’s where Raf and I got breakfast from, why?” Xavier asked. His tone was neutral but interested.

Rafayel nodded, sliding around the table until his hand covered mine again. “It’s a cute little place, for sure. What about it?”

“Yeah,” I murmured. “It’s where you meet companions in the system interface.” The place felt real in my memory—warm, floral, full of light streaming through stained-glass windows. “In the café you can chat, tap—we first encountered Xavier there, on the game that is.”

Xavier gave me a half-smile, head cocked. “And you want to… go there?”

I licked my lips and nodded. “It’s familiar. It felt safe in the game. Maybe it’ll help ground me here—help bridge the gap between this and… that.”

Raf’s eyes softened. “Then let’s do it. Take the day for something kind. Something familiar.”

He squeezed my hand gently. “Destiny Café today. We’ll figure the rest tomorrow.”

I leaned into Xavier’s side, and his arm moved to wrap around me. The room felt suddenly warmer, softer—like I’d been holding my breath and was finally allowed to exhale.

Converging lines , I thought—me. Them. Two worlds. Bringing us all together.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

I needed a minute to just be .

Leaving Rafayel and Xavier in the living room, I slipped down the hallway into my room and closed the door with a soft click. The quiet hit me in the chest. It was that kind of silence I’d grown used to—sharp and almost too loud. But now, it came with an undertone of stillness that didn’t feel empty. Just... waiting.

The bathroom was like something out of a futuristic design catalog. Sleek angles, matte black fixtures, and lighting that responded to movement. It almost made me feel like I was trespassing in someone else's life. Still, I peeled out of my clothes, stepped under the water, and let it wash away everything I didn’t know how to process.

Grief. Guilt. Gratitude. All of it tangled into a single aching pulse in my chest.

When I stepped out, the mirror defogged automatically. I caught a glimpse of myself but didn’t linger. I just pulled a towel tight around me and made my way into the bedroom.

Half-dressed, I paused at the side of the bed, grabbing my new phone to check the time. 9:02 a.m., June 14th .

Wait.

June.

A sudden bolt of realization stabbed through the fog of my thoughts.

Caleb’s birthday was yesterday.

I stared at the screen, blinking, thumbing open the message app instinctively. The contact Rafayel had put in— “Colonel Sassypants 🎖️🍑” —was glaringly obvious. Of course he’d do that.

I hesitated a second, then typed:

➤ Happy (belated) Birthday. 🥲🎂 I hope your day doesn’t completely suck.

I hovered for only a moment before I hit send.

The second it was gone, I exhaled like I’d been holding my breath without realizing it.

“Dumb,” I muttered, tossing the phone gently onto the bed.

I yanked open one of the drawers and started dressing—black leggings, thick enough to not be see-through but flexible enough to not feel like a prison. A t-shirt that read I’m not arguing, I’m just explaining why I’m right. I tugged it down over my hips, then reached for the hoodie. It was oversized, heavy, and smelled faintly of fresh cotton and the closet.

Combat boots came next—sturdy, familiar, protective.

Finally, I pulled my hair up into a low ponytail, securing it with one of the thick bands Raf had tossed into my cart yesterday like it was the most natural thing in the world.

I caught myself in the mirror again, hoodie hanging off my shoulder slightly. For once, I didn’t hate what I saw.

I was still me.

But I was becoming someone new , too.

And somewhere, not far off, a sarcastic, sharp-eyed Colonel had a birthday text waiting.

I padded back into the living room, my boots making soft, muted thumps against the floor with every step.

Xavier was the first to look up from where he stood by the window, arms loosely crossed as the morning light filtered over his shoulder. His gaze swept over me slowly—nothing invasive, just… thoughtful. His lips parted like he might not speak at all, but then he did.

“You look… beautiful,” he said, voice low, almost unassuming—like he wasn’t trying to make a thing of it, just telling the truth.

I stopped in my tracks.

Rafayel, seated on the couch, legs casually crossed and his fingers playing with the hem of his sleeve, let out a low, appreciative whistle. “If I’d known all it took was a hoodie and a ponytail to make you runway-ready, darling, I would’ve insisted on this look yesterday.”

Heat climbed up my neck so fast it burned. I felt it crawl over my ears, down my throat. My gut twisted in that familiar way—somewhere between a spark and a shutdown. Like I couldn’t tell if I wanted to lean into it or run straight into the wall.

“Stop it,” I muttered sharply, pulling the hoodie sleeves over my hands and tucking my arms against my stomach. “You two seriously need to get your vision checked.”

Xavier frowned slightly, but not because he was offended. No—he’d noticed it. The armor. The deflection. He didn’t push, though. Just nodded once, like he was letting me win this one. For now.

Before I could even decide whether I’d overreacted or not, my phone buzzed in my hoodie pocket, lighting up against my hip.

I yanked it out, thumb swiping across the screen.

[Colonel Sassypants 🎖️🍑]➤ You remembered? Huh.➤ Not gonna lie, that kinda made my whole day better. I’ll forgive the delay… but, do I need you to tell me how you knew? 😏➤ PS: Did you also know I like strawberry cake and kisses on the cheek? Just in case you’re taking notes.

I bit the inside of my cheek so hard I nearly drew blood.

My lungs tried to expand and shriveled at the same time. Caleb had this way—of throwing something flirty at me without ever making it gross. Just enough heat to catch me off guard. Just enough kindness in it to leave me breathless.

I didn’t respond. Not yet.

Because what could I even say to that?

Behind me, Raf stood with a little stretch, moving closer with his usual swagger, and Xavier was already moving toward the door, grabbing his coat as if he knew it was time to shift gears.

But I stayed rooted for just a moment longer, clutching my phone like it might disappear in my hands.

Caleb’s words buzzed through me louder than the message ever could’ve.

Not just because of the flirtation.

But because he’d said it made his day better.

And the part of me that still didn’t believe I could be good in anyone’s story suddenly didn’t know where to stand.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

The lobby doors swished open as Xavier led me downstairs, Rafayel trailing with his usual easy confidence. Xavier led us to an almost unassuming vehicle. As soon as I saw the word Bronco across the grill, I knew. Its curves caught the sunlight just right, highlighting the soft pearlescent gleam in the paint that matched the hunter’s hair, like starlight.

“Ladies first,” Raf said with a broad grin, holding the door open for me.

I hopped into the rear seat, the leather cool beneath me. Raf smiled and slid into the passenger seat, while Xavier hopped into the driver’s side.

“You better sit up front with me on the way back,” Xavier called as he closed the door, his voice rich with teasing promise.

“Your chariot,” I muttered, already craning to lean forward, but Raf slammed the door gently.

“Gonna earn your front-seat privilege, sweets?”

My lips twitched into a shy smile.

He started the engine—quiet, powerful—and we pulled away. I leaned back, watching the city flow past.

Linkon’s skyline was different when you moved. The air felt clearer than home—almost filtered. Buildings glinted in the sunlight like brushed steel and glass; green rooftop terraces framed by glowing sky-pipes. I pressed my fingertips against the window, marveling at how crisp everything looked.

“It’s… cleaner,” I observed softly. “The air… it almost hurts how fresh it is.”

Xavier glanced my way. “Part of the city’s filter grid. Purifies emissions from the Transit Tunnel. Kind of suicidal if it just went offline.”

Raf shifted in the passenger’s seat, eyes on the road. “We lost a district once when a system glitch knocked out half the sensors. Made it through, though.”

I nodded, words sealing in the moment.

We drove in comfortable conversation—about nothing and everything. The city lingered behind the windshield like a waking dream. As the Ferrari purred down a wide boulevard, sunlight caught my hair, streaking golden highlights through the dark strands I’d tied back this morning.

When Xavier cut between buildings and slowed, I recognized it: the warm glow of Destiny Café up ahead—arched stained-glass windows, climbing ivy, light filtering into geometric patterns on the sidewalk.

I exhaled, heart thumping.

We pulled to a stop outside the small building tucked between towering glass façades. It didn’t look like much from the outside, not compared to the shimmer and pulse of the surrounding skyline. Ivy wrapped around the worn brick exterior, clinging to time-stained walls like secrets. Above the carved wooden door, glowing letters shimmered faintly in the filtered daylight, spelling Destiny in a warm, inviting script that almost felt handwritten just for me.

Xav killed the engine. The silence that followed felt louder than the soft music drifting from inside the café, almost as though the building itself sighed in welcome.

But I didn’t move.

My fingers curled around the seatbelt, unmoving. The leather of the car pressed against my back, and suddenly my throat felt dry. Too dry. My pulse pounded a little louder in my ears. It wasn’t the café. Not exactly. It was everything leading up to this—the surreal feeling of familiarity in an unfamiliar world. The shifting stares from strangers earlier. The boys seeming to know more about me than anyone had in years. The things I’d said. The things I knew . The air itself felt thinner.

And this place, Destiny Café—it had always been the hub in the game. The place where time paused, where threads converged. So much happened here. Quiet moments. Confessions. Dreams. It was never just coffee.

Rafayel’s head tilted back as he looked over his seat, resting one arm on the dash. “Sweetheart,” he said, voice velvet-smooth, coaxing without pressure. “It’s just a coffee shop. We won’t let it swallow you.”

The outside air hit me like a soft current. It smelled faintly of bread, roasted coffee beans, and a strange kind of nostalgia. Like a memory I hadn’t made yet, tugging at the edges of my skin.

I gave a soft breath of a laugh, barely more than a sigh. My legs still wouldn’t move.

Then I felt a hand slip into mine. Warm. Steady.

Xavier.

I looked up and met his eyes—stormy-blue with streaks of silver light. Not demanding. Not even reassuring, exactly. Just… present . “We’ve got you,” he said simply. “Take the step. That’s all.”

The step.

It sounded so simple. But it was a chasm some days. One foot after the other? It had cost me everything, once. And yet—I nodded, slowly. Xavier’s fingers curled around mine as I stepped up on to the curb.

Xavier didn’t let go. Rafayel came around and opened the ornate door ahead of us, a gentlemanly flourish and a wicked smile on his lips as the wind teased his coat behind him. “Welcome to the edge of fate, darling.”

I followed them inside, unsure whether my heart was racing from fear or something else entirely.

But I walked forward anyway.

The bell over the door chimed as we stepped in.

It was like being submerged into a different kind of silence. Not the absence of sound, but the kind that settled into your bones—like walking through the thick hush of snowfall, where everything felt slower, deeper.

My boots clicked softly against worn wood floors as Xavier stepped in beside me, still holding my hand like it was second nature. Rafayel drifted slightly ahead, lifting his hand in a wave toward the girl behind the counter. “Hey, beauty. Got that cinnamon cortado still warming for me?”

She rolled her eyes fondly and waved him off toward the seating area, clearly used to him.

But I wasn’t focused on her. Or the menu. Or the low hum of chatter from the couple near the corner.

No. I was frozen on everything else .

The smell hit first—roasted espresso, burnt sugar, something spicy and warm like cloves—and I felt it coil around my senses. A sense of déjà vu dropped over me like a weighted blanket. My stomach twisted, a knot of recognition and disbelief.

The café looked exactly like it had in the game.

Not similar .

Exactly .

The wall near the counter was a cascade of chalk-painted specials, the lettering curled and soft. Deep teal and gold accents trimmed the windowpanes. Shelves were tucked into nooks with scattered books and ceramic mugs too pretty to be functional. The sunlight coming in through the front windows painted stripes across the marble-sheen table tops. And near the center…

That chair.

Low-backed, tufted in soft cream velvet. The same one from the Love and Deepspace homescreen. Where the love interests would sit sometimes during dialogue moments—arms relaxed on the rests, waiting for the MC to approach them one by one.

My legs went cold.

“What the hell…”

“You okay?” Xavier’s voice was low beside me, gentle. Concerned.

I nodded. Or tried to. But I couldn’t look away. My throat was tight, my pulse skipping.

A staff member in a long green apron came around with a soft smile and gestured us toward a booth by the window—one Raf clearly had a reservation for, if his satisfied nod was anything to go by. I followed, still wordless, the boys guiding me with the natural rhythm of people who’d done this a thousand times before.

But this wasn’t normal. This wasn’t normal .

I slid into the seat, Xavier beside me on the right, Rafayel to the left, and tried to ground myself in the here and now. My palm rested against the cool surface of the table. The sunlight warmed the edge of my arm.

Then the music started.

Just low enough to feel like it had always been playing.

“Remember all the times and all the faces, missing you that night, it’s time to face it.”

My breath caught.

No. No way.

Fivefold. Won’t Let Go .

A song from my world. A track I used to scream-sing in my shower, years ago, crouched and heartbroken. A song that wasn't popular enough to just show up randomly on another world’s playlist. My nails dug into my palm beneath the table.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Raf murmured, a teasing smile playing at the corners of his lips. But there was a sharp glint of knowing behind it. He’d noticed. They were both noticing.

“I think…” I managed, voice quiet, almost broken. “I think this place is trying to tell me something.”

I looked out the window, but my reflection stared back in the glass—unsteady, unsure, and so achingly real .

This world knew me better than I knew it.

And I had no idea what it wanted in return.

The lyrics wrapped around me like a ghost with warm hands.

"Through the stormy weather, we’ll stay together..."

My breath caught in my throat. That song wasn’t from here. Couldn’t be. It belonged to my world. Late nights in the dark, earbuds buried deep, blasting against the screaming silence in my chest. And now it was playing here—soft and subtle through the speakers of a quiet corner café on another planet, in another world, with men I wasn’t supposed to meet.

I stared down at the table like it might give me answers.

Rafayel must have noticed the shift in my breathing, because he leaned closer. “You recognize it,” he said softly. It wasn’t a question.

I nodded, heart thudding. “That song… it’s from my world. I used to listen to it when I couldn’t sleep.”

Xavier squeezed my hand beneath the table, grounding me.

Raf tapped the table’s surface thoughtfully. “Message Sylus,” he said, flashing me a crooked grin. “Tell Silver Fox we’ve got another bleed-through.”

My brow furrowed. “Silver Fox?”

“That’s his name in your contacts,” Rafayel replied with a wink. “You’ll see.”

I hesitated—then reached into my pocket and pulled out the sleek new phone, fingers trembling a little as I opened the messaging app. Sure enough, Raf had labeled the contact for Sylus as:

🐉 Silver Fox 🐦‍⬛

I tapped it open, took a breath, and typed:

Aven: ➤ At Destiny Café. A song from my world just started playing—Won’t Let Go by Fivefold. Coincidence?

Three dots blinked almost immediately.

🐉 Silver Fox 🐦‍⬛: ➤ That’s not on any known playlist here. Hang tight. I’ll run a check.

I stared at the screen, the song continuing in the background like it had always belonged here. But it didn’t. It belonged to me —to before . And now it lived here too, bleeding through the seams of this strange new life.

Rafayel watched me as I locked my phone. “You okay?”

“No,” I whispered, my voice paper-thin. “But I’m starting to think none of this is random.”

Xavier’s thumb brushed mine. “Then it means you’re not alone in it either.”

Rafayel and Xavier slipped into a low conversation about art installations and anomaly tracking, their voices hushed but animated. Xavier’s hands moved in careful gestures as he talked, while Raf leaned in, offering theories and soft jokes that only made sense between them. They were giving me space, I realized. Letting me sit with this knot in my stomach without pushing.

I tapped the screen of my phone again.

Still no response from Sylus. I wasn’t surprised. He was likely buried in data at Onychinus HQ, scowling at monitors or snapping at someone in a lab coat.

My thumb hesitated over the screen before backing out of the chat and scrolling to the next name Rafayel had added to my contacts.

🥶 Ice Prince of Poutland ��

The smirk hit me before I could stop it. “Really, Raf…” I muttered under my breath. But it worked. Just seeing that dumb name reminded me of how tightly Zayne’s jaw set when he was annoyed, the way his eyes softened just enough when he was around me.

My fingers hovered over the keyboard a second before I typed:

Aven :➤ Hey. Just checking in. How’re you holding up?

It took a moment. Then—

🥶 Ice Prince of Poutland 🩺 :➤ Took a break. Sitting on the roof. Coffee’s bitter. My legs hurt. But otherwise, still functional. You?

I smiled faintly.

Aven :➤ That sounds exactly like you. I’m at Destiny Café with Raf and Xavier. Something weird’s happening again.

A pause. Then:

🥶 Ice Prince of Poutland 🩺 :➤ You okay?

That question—two words—landed deeper than I expected. I didn’t have an answer ready. I didn’t know if I was okay. I stared out the café window, eyes catching on the way the afternoon sunlight filtered through sleek glass buildings and painted warm shadows on the floor.

Aven :➤ Not really. But I’m not alone.

Another pause. And then:

🥶 Ice Prince of Poutland 🩺 :➤ Then you’re better than you think.

I blinked hard, throat tight. The screen blurred for a second, and I looked up—Rafayel had pulled a small notepad from his coat pocket and was sketching something quickly, while Xavier leaned his chin on his hand, half-watching, half-listening.

They hadn’t abandoned me. None of them had.

The waitress came over just as Raf was flipping his sketchpad closed with a dramatic little flourish.

“Ready to order?” she asked, her voice light and practiced.

Rafayel leaned forward first, giving her his full attention and charm like he was painting her into one of his canvases. “One affogato with the house espresso. And a slice of the mocha torte—if it’s fresh.” He winked.

Xavier barely glanced up. “Black coffee. No sugar.” Then, almost like an afterthought, “And the croissant sandwich with egg and spinach.”

The waitress turned to me with an expectant smile.

I hesitated, mind still circling the message I’d sent earlier—Sylus’s silence had started to twist something anxious under my skin.

“Just… water. Please,” I said softly.

She blinked but nodded. “Of course.”

As she walked away, my phone buzzed once.

I snatched it up faster than I meant to.

🐉 Silver Fox 🐦‍⬛ :➤ That song. The café… You’re sure?

I locked onto the screen, fingers flying.

Aven :➤ I’m sure. The music playing right now is from my world. There’s a chair here, the placement, the fabric, right down to the little round white table sitting in front of it, it’s exactly like the Home Screen of the game.➤ I don’t understand, Sylus. Why would this song be here? What is going on?

He responded almost immediately.

🐉 Silver Fox 🐦‍⬛ :➤ Metaflux residuals can create visual or auditory echoes. But those are… usually unstable. Fractured. This is too precise.➤ I’ll dig deeper. Don’t leave yet. I’m sending someone.

My skin prickled.

Sending someone?

My eyes flicked up from the phone to the café entrance, like I expected someone to burst through it already. But the glass doors remained steady, the quiet of Destiny Café broken only by the muted hum of conversation and the soft strain of Won’t Let Go as it looped quietly from hidden speakers.

“I think Sylus just made me nervous,” I muttered aloud, staring down at the text.

Raf leaned in. “Why? What’d he say?”

“That he’s sending someone,” I murmured, my thumb tracing the side of the phone absently. “Said this place shouldn’t be this... exact. Not unless something bigger’s happening.”

Xavier stiffened next to me.

Raf, for once, didn’t smile. “Then we better finish fast.”

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

I felt the first glance whip through the café before I saw them—two tall, hooded figures entering, the glow of the overhead light reflecting off their bird masks. They moved in perfect sync, slow, deliberate—everyone turned, but I was rooted.

My heart stuttered in my chest.

I knew who they were.

Kieran and Luke.

“...Raf, Xav,” I whispered, panic threading my voice. “That’s them. Sylus sent them.”

The twins slid into position nearby—first one, then the other—just as Caleb stepped in between them, tossing his coat over his arm. He gave me a small nod, his expression soft but unreadable.

Rafayel stiffened beside me, eyes darting between the masked brothers and me. “Well,” he said quietly, voice low enough I could feel it rumbling through the table. “Sylus isn’t exactly subtle.”

Xavier’s grip on my hand tightened, even though his face stayed calm. “Stay close,” he murmured in my ear, though his eyes were locked on the twins.

I watched as Luke (the older twin) flicked his dark, red edged mask sideways, revealing a shock of crimson hair tied back. Kieran mirrored his movements but held still, his quiet presence the yin to his brother’s yang.

They didn’t sit—they just watched. The café’s hum dimmed for me as I stared.

Caleb stepped to our side. His voice was almost gentle. “Sylus trusts them. We have nothing to fear.”

Xavier nodded slowly, still scanning the room. “Luke and Kieran—assistants and hunters.” he mused. “They’re skilled. Allegedly sympathetic... and dangerous.”

Raf exhaled in a way I felt more than heard. “Metaflux-tweaked twins,” he murmured. “Can sense everything each other does.”

The waitress returned, placing another glass of water in front of me, the small clink of condensation hitting the wood loud in my ears. I drank it in slow sips, trying to steady the storm in my chest. Being within breathing distance of them—the twins Sylus used to prune weeds and monitor flux... it felt like standing on a wire.

Caleb pulled a chair up to the end of the booth, his hand drifting over the table to cover mine. His thumb brushed the back of my hand, slow and steady. “Together,” he whispered, just enough for me.

I nodded, eyelids heavy with unshed tears and adrenaline.

The twins didn’t speak. Their silence filled every fold of the tension in the room. But their presence said everything.

I swallowed. My voice was low and brittle. “They’re… here.”

Xavier leaned forward. “As long as they do what Sylus tells them.”

Rafayel’s voice was calm but cold. “They do.”

There was a pause, where the café’s music ticked a little louder, just enough to remind me I was in a real place—not a glitch, not a dream.

The chords of “Won’t Let Go” looped again, and that single guitar riff echoed in my chest.

I squeezed Caleb’s hand, Xavier’s arm tightening in response around my shoulders, Rafayel’s thumb brushing comforting circles on my knuckle.

And I exhaled.

Because no matter what came next—twins, Sylus, the bleed of worlds—I wasn’t facing it alone.

Luke was the first to break the silence.

“So,” he said, his voice smooth and sharp like glass worn down by ocean tide. “ This is the girl who’s got the Boss rearranging his schedule and pulling strings in six sectors.”

He didn’t even look at me when he said it—his eyes instead scanned his surroundings, fingers tapping once, twice against his thigh.

Kieran leaned in beside him, mask still on. “She’s… softer than I expected.” The comment came out flat, observational. Almost clinical.

Rafayel’s eyes narrowed, the usual warmth drained from his voice. “Watch it.”

Luke turned to me then, eyes finally catching mine. Pale, disarming. “No offense, sweetheart. Just surprised. You’re… very much not what we thought.”

“Thought what?” I asked, voice tighter than I meant it to be. “That I’d be glowing? Falling from the sky with wings?”

“No,” Kieran said simply. “Just thought he wouldn’t be stupid enough to get attached. ”

The word hit like a slap.

Before I could react, Caleb scoffed, his arm going taut where it rested along the back of the booth. “Easy,” he warned, eyes like smoldering coals. “Say that again and you’ll be walking out of here with less than you came in with.”

Luke tilted his head, mildly amused. “Feisty.”

“She’s not a distraction,” Xavier said quietly, but with enough weight to silence the room. “She’s the variable. That’s what you’re not getting.”

“She’s the constant,” Raf added. “And honestly, if either of you had an ounce of empathy, you’d feel it. Or are your heads too far up Sylus’s protocols to see that she’s standing in a world that shouldn’t even exist for her?”

The twins exchanged a glance.

I could feel my throat tightening—embarrassment, frustration, that white-hot flash of not being enough rising again. But I didn’t back down. Not this time.

“In the game…” I said, softly, still watching the twins, “you were a little better behaved.”

That got them.

Kieran blinked. Luke raised an eyebrow. “Game?”

“She knows,” Raf said before I could explain. “Everything. Every detail of what she calls her world—our world—but with her as the outsider looking in.”

Luke’s eyes narrowed. “So the bleed’s worse than he thought.”

“It’s not just the bleed,” Xavier added. “It’s—her. Something about her is catalyzing changes. Maybe not intentionally. Maybe just by existing here.”

Caleb nodded. “She shows up, things bend. That’s not random.”

Kieran finally pulled off his mask, setting it carefully on the table nearest him. His face was lean, sharp-featured, deceptively youthful, his eyes stunned me. His right, a silvery gray, while his left eye was an otherworldly looking gold. “And what’s she supposed to do , exactly? Be your lightning rod?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted, voice quieter. “I didn’t ask for this.”

“No one ever does,” Luke muttered.

Raf reached across the table and touched my wrist lightly. “We don’t need to have every answer right now.”

I stared at the twins. “But I’m here. And you’re both here. And Sylus sent you. So that has to mean something, doesn’t it?”

Another pause.

Then Luke’s lips twitched upward in a faint smirk. “Suppose it does.”

Kieran sat back, arms folded. “Fine. We’re listening.”

And just like that, the ice cracked.

They weren’t warm. They weren’t kind. But they were present. And for Sylus’s shadows? That meant everything.

Caleb leaned forward, elbows braced on the table like he was trying to physically redirect the tension in the room.

“Alright,” he said, his tone sharp enough to slice through the quiet. “Let’s get back on track—metaflux anomalies. You two have been seeing the same fluctuations Sylus flagged, yeah?”

Luke’s attention flicked to him like a knife tip catching the light. “Some. Noise in the Eastern quadrants. Pulse disruptions. Warps.”

Kieran’s lips barely moved. “And two days ago, something burned through an access node in Sector Twelve. The techs couldn’t even explain it. Looked like a clean sever but left no data trail.”

I tried to follow—my thoughts still knotted from the way they’d looked at me. Like I was something someone dragged in from the street and forgot to leash.

Xavier asked, “Any signs of protofield destabilization?”

Luke gave a tight nod. “Minimal. Like it’s… correcting itself.”

“And that doesn’t bother you?” Caleb asked.

“Of course it does,” Kieran muttered, glancing sideways at me before adding under his breath, “Though maybe reality’s just rejecting what doesn’t belong.”

My stomach plummeted.

I didn’t even mean to react—didn’t say anything—but my spine straightened, eyes going to the café window like I could escape through the glass. My body always knew before my brain caught up, and now it was screaming at me to shut down .

Xavier was on his feet a second later.

“Say that again,” he said evenly, his voice like frost creeping across steel.

Kieran didn’t blink. “I meant what I said.”

“You don’t know her,” Xavier snapped. “You don’t know her. And you have no idea what she’s already survived—just because you’re too blinded by protocol to see past the surface doesn’t mean you get to dehumanize her.”

Luke lifted a brow, finally looking at me again—and not in a kind way. “We’re just saying what no one else has the guts to.”

“Then grow a spine and say it to me directly,” I said, the words brittle as they left my mouth. “Not like I’m not sitting right here.”

The table went still. My hands shook under the booth, hidden by the shadow of the tabletop. I wasn’t angry. I wasn’t brave. I was… tired.

So tired.

“Enough,” Rafayel said, his voice deceptively gentle, but loaded.

Caleb exhaled next to me, rubbing a hand down his face. “Let’s stay focused. The bleed, the metaflux. We’ll let Sylus coordinate with Reitō Station’s analysts to compare data trends—Xav, you can monitor from your Hunter’s gear, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Xavier replied, still glaring daggers at Kieran.

“And I’ll get in touch with the fleet, make sure the Farspace logs are synced up for anomalies too,” Caleb added, shifting back into the calm authority I’d seen on him before.

Kieran huffed, leaning into his chair like the conversation bored him. “Fine. You’ll get your data. Just don’t come crying to us if she ends up being the cause.”

Rafayel stood. “And you two don’t come crying to us if she ends up being the key.”

The air felt thick enough to cut.

I said nothing—just curled further inward, my fingers curling into my sleeves beneath the table. I hadn’t even known I was gripping them so tightly until I felt my nails bite through the fabric.

I didn’t want to cry in front of them.

I didn’t want to need anyone to defend me.

But Xavier’s hand was there again. Under the table. Just his pinky brushing against mine.

And that—somehow—kept me from unraveling altogether.

Luke moved first, brushing invisible dust off his sleeve like we were beneath him, not even worth a wrinkle. “You sure you want her around, Boss?” he said lazily, glancing toward Caleb. “Wouldn’t want her to collapse the metaphysics and your furniture.”

Kieran snorted under his breath. “Yeah. At this rate, she’s the biggest anomaly in the city. Literally.”

My heart didn’t just drop—it imploded.

There was a sharp screech of a chair. Xavier—he was on his feet, teeth clenched so tight I could hear it. But Rafayel was already moving, an arm braced hard across Xavier’s chest, holding him back, while Caleb got a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t,” Caleb said low, a warning. “They’re not worth the fallout.”

“They’re not walking out of here saying that,” Xavier hissed, his chest heaving.

“I know, ” Rafayel growled, his usual velvet voice fraying. “But if you punch Kieran in the face, we’ll be the ones in the headlines tomorrow.”

The twins laughed— laughed —as they strolled toward the glass doors, Luke raising two fingers in a mock salute.

“Try not to break the timeline, sweetheart,” Kieran called over his shoulder to me.

And just like that, they were gone.

The silence in the café was razor-sharp. I couldn’t breathe past it.

I stood. I didn’t look at the boys—I couldn’t. My limbs moved on their own, feet pulling me toward the exit before I even knew what I was doing.

Raf called my name softly. Caleb too.

But I didn’t stop.

The glass ornate doors hissed as I pushed through them and stepped out onto the sidewalk, sunlight stabbing my vision like it was punishing me for existing.

I saw them.

The twins. Still walking. Like they hadn’t just carved me open in front of people I cared about.

“Hey!” I shouted.

They turned, surprised. Kieran looked amused. Luke, mildly annoyed.

I walked until I was close enough for them to hear the shake in my voice but not mistake my purpose.

“Do you feel better?” I asked. “Does it make you feel strong? Cutting someone down like that?”

Kieran raised a brow. “You followed us out here for that?”

“I followed you out here,” I snapped, “because I’ve spent my entire life being treated like I was in the way—like I was the weight dragging everything down. And I’m still here. ”

Luke rolled his eyes. “Well, congrats. Want a medal?”

I swallowed. My throat burned. “No. I want you to know you didn’t break me. You’re not going to.”

Kieran looked at Luke, then back at me with something colder than disdain. “You really think you're some kind of chosen one, huh? Just because Sylus looked twice?”

I didn’t answer that.

Because I didn’t know what I was yet. But I knew who I wasn’t.

“I think,” I said, voice trembling but iron-clad, “that if your whole identity relies on making someone else feel small, then maybe I’m not the broken one after all.”

I turned before they could answer.

My hands were shaking. My chest felt like it might cave in. But I didn’t run.

I walked back to the café door.

Back to the people who had tried— were trying —to care about me.

Even if I didn’t know why.

The door chimed behind me as I stepped back into the café.

I didn’t even realize I was trembling until the warmth of the indoor air hit my skin like cold static. I blinked, once, twice, unsure how to breathe with so many eyes on me—Raf, Xavier, Caleb. All of them had stood. All of them were watching.

“I want to leave,” I said.

The words fell out too softly. Not angry. Not broken. Just tired.

Xavier was in front of me in a heartbeat, hands gently coming to hover near my arms, like he wasn’t sure if I’d flinch. His eyes—those quiet, serious eyes—burned.

“Are you okay?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

No. Not even close. But I nodded anyway.

His hands didn’t move. Just… hovered. Steady. Like they were there if I needed them, but wouldn’t invade my space unless I gave permission.

I think I did. Because one second I was staring at his chest and the next I was pressed into it, my forehead against the cool fabric of his hoodie. His arms came around me slowly—tight enough to hold, loose enough not to cage me. I could feel how hard he was breathing. How hard I was shaking.

“I didn’t say it earlier,” he murmured, “but I was proud of you. For standing up to them.”

The dam cracked again—but it didn’t break. I sucked in a breath and nodded against him, just once.

Then Rafayel was there, his hand sliding up between my shoulder blades, smoothing down gently as he leaned into my side with an anchor-like warmth. “You scared the hell out of us, sunshine,” he said, voice rough with emotion that didn’t usually belong to him. “Don’t do that alone again. You’re not alone anymore.”

Something about the way he said it— you’re not alone anymore —hit me in a place I didn’t know I still kept locked.

Caleb’s footsteps were heavier. Slower. But when I turned, he didn’t smile.

No teasing grin. No cocky attitude.

Just eyes full of heat. Fury. And a quiet ache.

“You okay?” he asked, voice rough.

I nodded again, even if it was a lie. He reached out and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear, his knuckle grazing my cheek with something so achingly tender it nearly undid me again.

Then he turned away and pulled out his phone.

I watched his thumb move across the screen—watched him press the call button.

He didn’t say anything when it connected. Just stood there, lips tight, jaw locked.

Then: “She’s okay. Now. ”

There was a pause, a sigh and then Caleb explained what happened, what the twins had said.

Then an audible yell from the other side of the line.

Even from here, I heard it. Distorted and muffled, but it was Sylus. Enraged. Completely losing it.

Caleb didn’t flinch, but he did pull the phone back an inch with a wince. “Yeah, that’s what I figured,” he muttered. “No, don’t— Sylus. No. I’m not letting you blow a hole in the sidewalk because of them.”

Another beat. More yelling.

“Look,” Caleb said, quieter now, though his voice was laced with something sharp. “She handled it. Better than we did, honestly. But I thought you’d want to know.”

I stood there, stunned. Half of me curled in on itself, raw and reeling. The other half… didn’t know what to do with the way they looked at me. Like I was real. Like I mattered.

Caleb ended the call with a sigh, dragging his fingers down his face as he glanced at me again.

“He’s not happy,” he said.

“I figured.”

He gave me a humorless half-smile. “He said if I didn’t hug you for him before we left, he’d find a way to make the twin’s eardrums implode remotely.”

Raf huffed a quiet, dark laugh. “He could do it, too.”

“I know,” Caleb muttered. Then he looked at me. “Can I?”

I nodded.

He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around me—lower than Xavier’s hold, a little looser than Raf’s—just long enough for me to feel the heat of him, the weight of someone choosing to be gentle with me.

And for the first time in a long time…

I let myself lean into it.

Just for a second.

After our group hug separated, we walked out, the café door hissed shut behind us, the daylight slicing across the sidewalk like a blade. It felt too bright for how heavy my chest still was.

I hadn’t realized how tightly I’d curled into myself until Caleb’s fingers slipped into mine. Firm. Warm. Tugging gently.

“C’mon,” he said, voice low, a grin ghosting at the corners of his mouth. “You’re coming with me.”

My brows furrowed, half on instinct. “Where?”

His answering smirk was half wolf, half gleam of mischief. “To Onychinus HQ. Figured you might want front row seats to the ass-rending those two are about to get.”

I stopped walking.

Caleb didn’t.

He tugged again, coaxing.

I hesitated. “Caleb…”

“It’s not just that.” He looked back at me. “You’ve been wondering how all this works—what the real version of our world looks like. Thought you might want to see it for yourself. Plus, you’ll get to see where Sylus does his brooding.”

I blinked. My heart thudded unevenly. “You’re serious?”

“As a metaphysically enhanced twin punch to the face,” he said, jerking his chin toward the ignorantly orange Lanzador parked across the street. “C’mon. I’ll even let you mess with the seat settings.”

A part of me did want to go back to the apartment. Lock the door. Curl up under the comforter Xavier bought me. Pretend today hadn’t shattered the fragile little shield I’d built.

But another part?

Another part wanted to see .

I wanted to understand why this world felt so much more alive—more real —than the one I’d left behind. And if I was stuck here, then I couldn’t keep running from the pieces of it I hadn’t seen yet.

“Okay,” I said softly.

Caleb’s smile lit his face. Not cocky this time. Just… warm.

We crossed the street, Raf and Xavier trailing behind, but I caught the knowing glance Xavier passed between them—like they’d expected this. Like they’d let Caleb take the lead on purpose.

The Lanzador’s gull-wing door lifted like a beast unfurling its wings, and I slid in, the leather seat cool against my thighs even through the thick leggings. The scent of Caleb’s cologne and something faintly electrical filled the space. The dashboard lit up like a cockpit.

As we pulled away from the curb, I stared out the window at the glimmering buildings around us. Their strange, crystalline designs caught the sunlight in prismatic halos. The air felt sharp and clean in a way my world never had—no smog, no thick humidity, no grease-laced haze hanging above the streets.

“What are you thinking about?” Caleb asked, one hand draped on the wheel, the other fiddling with the console.

I shrugged. “This world. How different it is from the game.”

He tilted his head slightly toward me, interested. “Yeah?”

I stared harder at the road ahead. “I mean… in the game, everything was sleek and dramatic and mysterious. Onychinus was… shadows and steel. But here? It’s all that and something more. Alive. Like it’s shifting. Like we’re not just playing a role here. We’re a part of something breathing.”

He was quiet for a moment.

Then: “Sylus said you had insight. He wasn’t wrong.”

I flushed and looked away. “Just means I played too many hours.”

“Or maybe,” Caleb said, gaze flicking over to me with something unreadable in his eyes, “you were never just playing.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that.

So I didn’t.

Instead, I let the silence stretch between us, the hum of the engine filling in the spaces I couldn’t. My palm still tingled faintly from where Caleb’s hand had held mine.

The Lanzador thundered onto Baire Boulevard, the wide avenue that serves as Linkon’s southern boundary. Outside, the city’s bright glow began to dim, buildings growing meaner, chaining the skyline tighter. The boulevard sloped down toward N109, cutter-like shadows carving through the light.

I pressed my forehead gently against the glass, breath clouding the cool surface.

“N109 Zone,” Caleb murmured. “No‑hunt zone adjacent. Lawless. Shit happens fast here.”

We passed derelict transport tubes snaking over crumbling midrises, once gleaming conduits now dead. The air smelled different—thicker. Edged with grit. Even Caleb stiffened in the seat.

Beyond the boulevard, broken neon tubes flickered above a maze of narrow streets. Rusted digital signage warned passersby to “Keep Clear.” Vendors hawked Protocore trinkets from battered stalls beside makeshift labs disguised as workshops. Onychinus ran the whole show—they touched everything here.

Xavier and Rafayel trailed behind us in the Bronco. Foxes tailing the bait. In the distance, dim floodlights illuminated an angular, black-marble structure: Onychinus HQ. Men in dark gear—employees—milled at the entrance, scanning IDs and prowling like predators among shadows.

Caleb slowed as we pulled into the guard–patrolled courtyard.

I swallowed, heartbeat echoing in my ears.

“Want me to come with?” he asked, hand giving my knee a soft squeeze.

I managed a nod. Caleb parked. The engine shut off; the silence crashed in.

We stepped out, footsteps echoing across the obsidian stone slabs. Massive steel columns framed the doorway, etched with crimson glyphs—symbols of onyx and protection. The emblem of Onychinus.

We were close to Sylus’s domain, closer than I’d ever been. The HQ towered behind the courtyard like a dark promise.

A single guard let us pass, eyes glittering—tourists not allowed. We didn’t look like tourists at all.

Inside, we passed through the lobby: walls of cold marble, foot-thick glass windows showing the zone outside like a live exhibit. Elevators stood nearby, each with etched icons—the Armory, the Gem Vault, the Boxing Gym, Dining Hall.

I caught a reflection of me in the glass—holes in my world stitched together by choice and accident.

Rafayel appeared at my side. “His sanctuary,” he murmured quietly.

Xavier exhaled softly. “Familiar, but deadened.”

I looked at them both, searching the stark confidence in their faces.

And then, the doors to the inner sanctum opened, and a crow—Mephisto—soared down the hallway ahead, its metallic gleam catching faint lights. I swallowed again.

“We’re here,” Caleb said. “For better or worse.”

My chest tightened, but I stood taller. Because I wanted this, more than I’d ever wanted anything.

Because if worlds could bleed… maybe I could finally find out why.

“Up here,” Caleb called, already halfway to the nearest elevator alcove, its doors marked by a subtle black ‘Ω’ sigil embedded in a column of textured obsidian.

I followed him, not because I didn’t trust him, but because I was too curious not to. Too tired not to. And somewhere beneath the haze in my chest, a need to see Sylus’ world clawed for air like something buried too long.

The others caught up just as the elevator hissed open.

Xavier nodded once, quiet as ever. He gave me a soft, unreadable glance before stepping in. Rafayel was less subtle. “You okay?” he asked, voice lower now, like I was breakable glass he didn’t dare tap too hard.

I nodded. It wasn’t a lie. It wasn’t true either.

Caleb leaned forward inside the elevator and pressed his thumb to a biomarker panel. The screen blinked: ACCESS GRANTED — SYLUS PRIVATE

The doors closed with a gentle shhhp.

The air changed.

The interior walls of the lift weren’t metal or glass, but something in between—translucent, soft-paned like crystal. Ambient particles floated lazily within them like slow-motion fireflies in amber. I touched the side and felt warmth pulse faintly in time with my heartbeat.

“I don’t think this is an elevator,” I murmured before I could stop myself.

Rafayel smirked. “It’s a vertical transit pod. Of course it isn’t just an elevator. Sylus lives at the top of the tower.”

“Penthouse?” I said, trying to make it sound light, like I wasn’t cracking inside.

“Something like that,” Xavier murmured. “They call it the apex . You’ll see why.”

The transit pod moved soundlessly, but I felt it—my inner ear tilting, the slight pull of gravity brushing my skin. I braced a palm against the wall, grounding myself. My reflection looked back—warped, floating in fragmented pieces across the semi-transparent surfaces, like even here I didn’t fully exist.

Caleb said nothing.

Then—

A soft chime.

The doors melted away, revealing a corridor of pure twilight.

The floor beneath us turned to darkened glass, etched with faint, glowing veins that reminded me of old maps or circuit boards. The hallway curved, faintly serpentine, and led to a large open space bathed in low golden light.

This was Sylus’ domain.

We stepped into what felt like the eye of a storm.

The air was warmer here, tinged with cedar smoke and something subtly medicinal—like vetiver and violet leaf. The ceiling soared into darkness, and walls bled from cold matte steel into living stone, seamlessly integrated like the building itself was grown, not built.

To the right, an open sitting area wrapped around a sunken fire pit, its flames flickering from obsidian stones set in a reflective base. Floor-to-ceiling glass looked out over the N109 skyline. From this height, the city resembled stars trapped under skin.

I felt my breath catch.

And there—across the room, seated with a tablet resting across one bent knee—

Sylus.

He didn’t look up right away. His left arm rested over the back of the low-slung couch, his body lean and angled like sculpture. But I could feel him sense us. Like something waking.

When his head did lift, his eyes—mercurial and sharp—locked on me.

I took a step back.

Not out of fear. But because something in me knew:

Everything was about to change again.

I barely manage to swallow before Sylus rises. His presence shifts the air—tense silk uncoiling in a still room. The glow from his right eye dims, but the heat of his gaze sweeps to the twins where they stand.

Luke and Kieran slip in behind him, masks half–slipped, mouths twisted in mocking smirks. As they spot me, their eyes flicker—one murmurs something, half-laugh, half-curse. I feel my cheeks burn.

But Sylus’s smile disappears. The elegant tilt in his posture snaps into rigid resolve. His jaw clamps shut, and every inch of his authority pulses through the space.

“Enough,” he says, voice low but thunderous. He steps forward, and the twins flinch—Luke’s mask nearly drops.

I freeze. Everything slows.

Sylus barrels past them, and I swear the room’s temperature drops as he positions himself between us. He reaches out—gently—placing a warm palm on my cheek.

“Are you alright, Aven?” His tone is careful now, stripped of command, soft as cedar smoke.

I nod, voice stuck, but the heat of gratitude floods my chest.

Then his attention shifts. His hand drops, but the menace remains. He regards Luke first:

“You,” he says, and the single word reverberates like iron on stone.

Luke shrinks, eyes flicking to Kieran. Kieran steps forward, voice brittle:

“Boss, it was just a joke…”

Sylus doesn’t flinch. Instead, his Evol hums low—so subtle I almost don’t feel it. But Luke pales.

“I will not have disrespect in my presence,” Sylus says. He glances at Kieran. “Especially not towards her.”

Kieran's shoulders sag. “Yes, boss.”

They don't argue. They don't protest. They just stand—knowing.

I dare a glance up. Sylus releases them and turns fully toward me again. His voice softens:

“You didn’t deserve that.”

He offers his hand—uncertain, kind. I take it.

In that moment, the twins retreat, silent and chastened, leaving Sylus and me in that golden glow. He steps closer, the hum of his Evol pressing around us—tethering me.

Sylus’s fingers slid against mine, a subtle warmth threading through the anxiety spiraling in my chest. His touch wasn’t commanding—not like Caleb’s grip had been outside the café, or Xavier’s steadying palm on my back. It was soft. Meant to anchor, not claim. The tension in my spine loosened by a fraction.

“We’ll talk somewhere quieter,” he said simply, but there was an undercurrent to his voice. A low current of rage still simmering under the calm surface.

The others followed silently as Sylus turned and led us down the corridor that curved off from the hearth-lit sitting area. It wasn’t ostentatious—no gold, no velvet. But everything about it bled a quiet, inescapable power. The corridor lights pulsed with dim violet tones, and I could feel the thrum of some energy source beneath my feet, like the building itself was alive and listening.

We passed a wall of smoked-glass panels and a display of sleek surveillance nodes tracking sector movement in real-time, all muted for now. And then the wall before us split in half—dark matte panels sliding away without a sound to reveal a room unlike anything I had seen before.

Sylus’ office.

It didn’t just look important. It felt like walking into the mind of a man who thrived on precision, control, and beauty crafted from stillness. The entire back wall was a floor-to-ceiling window, curving subtly with the arc of the building, revealing the sprawl of the N109 Sector below us. The city’s lights looked like neural pathways stretching into the void—twinkling veins of neon blue, pulse-red, and bioluminescent silver winding through the dark like an artificial galaxy. Clouds drifted low in the distance, and lightning curled silently in a far-off storm cell. The view was endless. Unapologetic.

A single massive obsidian desk dominated the space, its surface pristine save for a stacked tablet, a suspended light crystal hanging just above the center, and a ceramic cup half-drained of something dark. On the far wall, a holo-map flickered to life, washing the matte panels in a wash of glowing grid lines. The points on the map shimmered—clusters of energy, anomalies—and each one pulsed in and out of phase like a second heartbeat overlaid on the world.

To the right, several floating glass cases lined the wall, each holding tagged vials of metaflux residue—glowing faintly with color-coded energy signatures. Thin, white text scrolled beside each one in a language I couldn’t read but somehow felt like I should understand. The center console beside them was alive with active feedlines and timestamped logs, each one tied to a point on the map… and every one since my arrival.

Sylus didn’t need to explain. I was the anomaly.

He released my hand only once we crossed the threshold, stepping behind the desk to tap a sequence into the console. The glass rotated, segments shifting into place with a hiss, bringing the readings into sharp detail. More than just data—it was like watching a nervous system being diagrammed in real time.

“Everything that’s happened,” he murmured, eyes tracking the pulses, “started with your arrival, then the Destiny Café incident. But these anomalies… they’re layered. Older threads are waking up. Some of them shouldn’t even exist in this quadrant.”

I stared at the log entries. My name wasn’t there, but it was all me . I could see it in the timestamps. The moment I landed in this world, when I stepped into the café. The moment I touched the frame. The moment I collapsed in Xavier’s arms.

Caleb stepped forward beside me, his fingers tucked into the pockets of his black jacket, eyes heavy with something between guilt and curiosity. “We caught the first metaflux echo when she walked past the reflective surface in the café. There was a burst of interference in the sub‑layer. Sylus, it was dense —like someone had torn through the veil and left the rip bleeding.”

“Xavier said it,” Rafayel added quietly, joining us near the window. “It wasn’t just metaflux reacting to external tech. It was reacting to her. Her presence is changing the way the anomalies behave.”

Xavier nodded once, and his voice—when he finally spoke—was steady, certain. “She’s not just triggering them. She’s stabilizing them after. It’s like… something inside her is acting as a buffer.”

Sylus didn’t speak right away. He watched me.

Not with pity.

With something else—something slower, more deliberate. Like he was trying to see past everything I thought I was, everything I’d been told I wasn’t , and weigh the truth for himself.

Finally, he said, “We’ll trace it all. Every disturbance, every tear. I’m assigning you clearance, Aven. You’ll have access to the data from here on out.”

My heart stuttered. “Me? I don’t—I don’t know how to read any of this.”

“You’ll learn,” he said, like it wasn’t even a question.

And then—so casually it startled me—he reached over and pulled the plush chair from beneath the window, angling it toward the console. He gestured for me to sit. I did, stiffly. My hands trembled in my lap.

He moved behind the console again, recalibrating something. “I want you to understand what you are to this equation,” he said. “Not a problem. Not a threat. But a variable we were never meant to have… and one I’m not letting go of.”

Behind me, I heard the subtle scuff of Xavier’s boots. Caleb leaned against the wall, arms folded tight. Rafayel lingered near the vials, watching the blue one glow faintly through the glass—just like before.

And outside, past the glass, N109 shimmered like a pulse waiting to break.

╰──────༺♡༻──────╯

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