#i used to draw every day. now i can barely pick up my pen

[anyu-blue]

~

[poisonlove]

study Session | c.s

words: 13k

Part 1

"When are you going to have Professor Miller read your work?" Cairo asks curiously.

We were in Cairo's room, a cozy space with emerald green walls, a queen-sized bed in the center, and a sturdy wooden desk a few steps to the left. Despite having a window, the room was dimly lit, almost immersed in darkness.

but the acoustics were impressive.

"Don't even think about it," I say, eyes widening at her suggestion, feeling panic rising within me.

"And why not?" Cairo asks with a small smile on her lips, her eyes focused on the notebook she was writing in with a concentrated expression.

With her free hand, she brings the cigarette to her mouth, inhaling slowly.

She was damn sexy when she smoked, well, she was always sexy, but her charm was amplified by her natural beauty. Her sparkling eyes, long dark hair cascading gracefully over her shoulders, charming smile... Her intelligence and demeanor were captivating and intriguing at the same time. My crush on Cairo had grown recklessly in these days, but at least now I wasn't a bundle of nerves all the time; we could chat without my cheeks turning as red as fire every time she smiled at me.

I glance at my notebook, tapping the pen on the paper searching for some kind of inspiration. The study sessions had been going on for two weeks now, and my assignments were less dreadful than usual. Professor Miller had assigned us a task where we had to choose a book we had been studying over the past few months and try to immerse ourselves in their story.

As usual, a stupid assignment.

I snort loudly, and Cairo looks at me sideways, a smile playing on her lips. "Are you struggling?" she asks amusedly, her hand stopping on her notebook's paper.

"I don't know how to do it... Why the hell did I choose Zeno's Conscience?" I say exasperatedly, hands sinking into my cheeks as my mind works on possible solutions.

"Mmmh... I see," Cairo raises the corners of her lips and tosses the cigarette butt into the ashtray next to the bed.

"Aren't you struggling? You've been writing continuously for 10 minutes," I ask impatiently, a little jealous of her incredible qualities.

"I actually finished the report yesterday," she confesses quickly, shrugging.

My eyes widen, and my jaw nearly drops to the floor. "What? Then what the hell are you writing?" I say in shock, surprised that Cairo had already finished the task that I had barely started.

"A personal report," she says absentmindedly, looking at her notebook.

Curiosity takes hold of me.

Without hesitation, my instinct urges me to quickly reach for Cairo's notebook. Her expression transforms into a mix of surprise and nervousness as my hand grabs the notebook firmly. "Give it to me," Cairo says nervously.

I can sense her worry in the way her body leans towards me, eager to get the notebook back from the black cover.

I lay back against the mattress, keeping a certain distance between me and Cairo, whose chest draws closer to mine as she desperately tries to retrieve her notebook. With one hand, I hold the notebook open, while with the other, I keep Cairo at bay.

"Dream," I pronounce aloud, smiling at the surprised expression on Cairo's face.

Cairo hurriedly sits on my lap, her face tense with anxiety as she reaches for the notebook. I can feel the warmth of her body close to mine, but her worried expression warns me of the tension in her soul. Without hesitation, Cairo drops the notebook to the ground with a brisk motion, while her hand suddenly lands next to my face in an attempt to maintain balance. Her black hair brushes against my cheeks, the sudden contact and the rustle of the pages falling to the ground adding to the agitation of the moment.

A flash of anger appears in Cairo's eyes as she abruptly rises from my body to pick up her notebook from the floor. I can see the tension in her movements as she clutches the notebook tightly to her chest.

"Are you out of your mind?" she exclaims angrily, her voice filled with frustration and disappointment.

My heart races in my chest as I try to understand what happened.

My mind is confused, and the air around us seems tense. I sit on the bed, trying to calm the agitation growing within me, while Cairo holds the notebook tight against her chest, her expression hard and angry.

"I didn't mean to..." I start to say, but the words fade into nothingness as I try to find an explanation for what happened. My mind is in turmoil, and the feeling of guilt weighs heavily on me as I try to confront Cairo's anger.

Her sharp voice brings me back to reality.

"Is violating my privacy a joke to you?" she asks sarcastically, her tone as cold as ice. I blush with embarrassment, and my words get stuck in my throat as I try to find a justification for my actions.

"What did you read?" Cairo asks, her voice now colder than ever.

Her posture is rigid, her shoulders tense, and her jaw clenched, and I suddenly feel small and defenseless in the face of her anger.

"Nothing, I swear," I stammer nervously, trying to placate her fury with my trembling words. "It was just a joke... I didn't mean to..." I continue to say, but my apologies seem to fall on deaf ears in the face of her rage.

The tension in the air is palpable as I desperately try to find a way out of this difficult situation.

"What's going on here?" someone suddenly asks.

We both turn towards the entrance of the room and see Winnie, Cairo's roommate, looking at us with confusion. Winnie has a raised eyebrow as her gaze shifts between Cairo and me, filled with suspicion.

"Nothing special," Cairo replies coldly, heading towards the window. "Y/n was just leaving," she adds confidently.

Winnie seems perplexed, but decides not to delve further. "Alright then. Sorry if I interrupted something," she says with a hint of embarrassment, sensing the discomfort in the air.

"You didn't interrupt anything," Cairo replies angrily.

"Um... Bye Cairo," I say timidly but she continues to silently stare out the window, lost in her thoughts.I sigh and leave the room, feeling terribly guilty.

(...)

"Professor Miller, can I talk to you for a moment?" I ask timidly, biting my lower lip nervously.

The professor nods and smiles weakly, looking at me with curiosity as I approach his desk.

I can feel Cairo's gaze behind me, but I'm too scared to meet her eyes. I know she's still angry with me. However, I hope that what I'm about to do might make her forgive me, at least a little.

"I would like to talk to you about something," I say timidly.

"Is it about Friday's assignment?" he asks curiously, his brown eyes trying to read mine.

I shake my head.

"I would like you to read something," I say, my body tensing with tension."Oh, what a surprise," he smiles widely, showing his white teeth.

I still feel Cairo's gaze.

"I wrote it a while ago," I say, grabbing the folded sheet I had put in my pocket. "I've always been afraid to let anyone read it... but I would like to ask you to read it when you're alone," I add timidly.

The professor seems somewhat surprised, but nods understandingly. "Alright, I can understand. It will be between us, I promise," he assures, accepting the sheet.

With a sigh of relief, I leave the room, ignoring Cairo's gaze, but this time with a new determination to pursue what matters to me.

Five long days have passed since I last spoke to Cairo.

Her absence has become a constant weight on my shoulders, and anxiety torments me as I wonder if I will ever have the opportunity to clear things up with her.

Meanwhile, I receive comforting news from Professor Miller. He informs me that my work has truly impressed him and that the assignment on Zeno's conscience was outstanding. His support and compliments give me a sense of relief and gratitude, partially alleviating the burden of tensions with Cairo.

With a sigh of relief, I reassure myself knowing that I have passed his class, but deep down I know that there are more pressing issues I need to address.

I find myself talking to some friends, joking and laughing to distract myself from the stressful situation.

"Hey, everything okay? You seemed a little nervous earlier," Emma asks curiously.

"Oh, yeah, everything's okay. Just a little hiccup, nothing to worry about," I smile nervously.

"Did you hear what happened in class today? It was really funny!" Joy chimes in, smiling at me.

"No, what happened?" I ask, happy for her enthusiasm.

We continue talking, trying to keep the atmosphere light even though my mind is still worried about the situation with Cairo. Then, I see Winnie approaching us with a serious expression and she calls me aside.

I glimpse a shiver of concern in her eyes and wonder what she might mean.

"Cairo wants to talk to you... Can you go to her room?" Winnie asks me, her voice tinged with concern.

My mind goes into overdrive as I try to understand what Cairo might want from me. With a knot in my stomach, I reluctantly nod. "Yes, sure. I'll go to her right away."

I head towards Cairo's room, trying to mentally prepare myself for the impending conversation.

Anxiety grips me as I approach the door, but I decide to face the situation with courage.

I lightly knock on the door and wait with my heart pounding in my chest.

"Go ahead," Cairo says with a calm tone of voice.

I open the door and see Cairo standing near her bed, holding the notebook in her hands. "Did you want to see me?" I say with curiosity and nervousness.

Cairo bites her lower lip nervously and sighs loudly. "I... I wanted to apologize for my reaction last time," she says timidly, embarrassed.

"I overreacted," she adds almost in a whisper.

I feel a wave of relief and gratitude as I look at her. "I also wanted to apologize," I reply sincerely, feeling the weight of tension dissolve between us.

"I shouldn't have taken the notebook without permission," I say with embarrassment.

Cairo smiles weakly, making butterflies flutter in my stomach.

"By the way..." She begins, hesitating, "I wanted to read you something..." She says nervously.

"You're not obligated," I say gently, trying to alleviate her anxiety.

"No, I have to do it," Cairo says firmly, sighing loudly. "Just... Don't comment until I'm finished," she says anxiously, looking at me with pleading eyes.

I nod and wait for Cairo to gather courage.

"In the silence of the night, among the yellowed pages of my favorite books, I found refuge. I have always been a dream seeker, a solitary traveler in the realms of imagination, but even in the deepest solitude, I found an inexhaustible companion: knowledge."

Cairo's voice resonates in the darkness of the room, warm and enveloping. It's like a gentle breeze, delicate yet determined, carrying with it a note of serenity and understanding. Her tone is calm and tranquil, but manages to convey deep emotion and subtle vulnerability.

"For years, I wandered among the words written by illuminated minds, hungry for wisdom and eager to understand the world around me. But in my journey, I encountered not only the light of knowledge but also the shadow of my own uncertainty."

Cairo sighs loudly.

"My intelligence, a gift and a curse at the same time, has created a labyrinth of doubts and fears within me. I often felt lonely, lost in my thoughts, and unable to find a kindred soul who could understand the complexity of my mind."

I can perceive a slight tension in her voice, a controlled intensity that betrays her inner emotion

"I envisioned my perfect companion, a man who could peer into me and see beyond my insecurities. But time brought disappointments, and the void in my heart grew, becoming a painful echo in the corridors of my soul. Yet, in the darkness of my despair, I found a sudden light. It wasn't the man I had dreamed of, but a girl with bright eyes and a gentle smile. In her, I found an understanding I had never known before, a bond that transcended gender and convention."

Cairo's grip on the notebook becomes ironclad.

"In her words, I found comfort; in her embrace, I found security. And so, my dream of a perfect companion transformed, no longer an ideal man but a hope embodied in a brave and compassionate girl. Now I know that my journey is no longer solitary, that I can face life's storms with the courage of one who knows she is not alone.

Thank you...

because thanks to this assignment Professor Miller gave us, I finally had the chance to get to know you better. I must admit that, even though I would never have said it before, I've liked you for months. Since I first noticed you in class, with your infectious smile and your eyes shining with curiosity."

Cairo smiles widely, her eyes becoming teary as she reads.

"But I was so scared, so convinced that I was too broken, too strange to deserve your attention. I was afraid of boring you with my insecurities, of taking away your smile with my fears. And so, I limited myself to watching you from afar, trying to hide what I felt and hoping you would never notice my presence."

Cairo's jaw trembles, her voice wavering.

"But now, thanks to this assignment, I had the chance to get to know you better, to discover your world and to understand that maybe, just maybe, I'm not as broken as I thought. And even though I don't know what the future holds for us, I'm grateful for this opportunity you've given me, for allowing me to get to know you better and to discover that maybe, just maybe, there's still hope for me.

Thank you."

Cairo looks up at me with determination, her eyes shimmering and red from crying. I just wanted to go to her and hold her against my chest until she calmed down.

"If you're listening to these words, it means I've finally found the courage to say what I feel. I don't expect you to reciprocate my feelings, but I wanted you to know how important you've been to me on this journey."

Cairo's voice continues to break, sobs threatening to break through.

"Thank you for giving me the chance to live this experience, to add a new chapter to my life that I never thought I'd write. You've been a turning point, an inspiration, and for that, I'll always be grateful. This moment will remain a precious memory in my mind. Thank you for being part of this experience, for making me feel alive and brave."

Cairo smiles widely, her lower lip trembling, her shoulders shaking more.

"Even if our journey together ends here, I know the lessons I've learned from you will stay with me forever. Thank you for teaching me to find the courage to be honest with myself and with others."

After Cairo finishes reading, she looks at me with teary eyes, but a delicate smile forms on her lips. I feel a weight on my chest, a mixture of gratitude and emotion that makes me want to cry.

Without hesitation, I quickly approach Cairo and wrap my arms around her shoulders, embracing her tightly. Cairo is carried away by the emotions, and we both burst into tears, our tears mingling in an intense and liberating hug.

After a while, Cairo calms down, but she still keeps her arms around me. Cairo looks up and gazes at me gently.

"Just to make sure... Does it speak about me?" I ask timidly, biting my lower lip. "If it's not you, who should it be?" she asks, chuckling and rolling her eyes at my comment.

"Professor Miller?" I say mischievously, and she nudges me lightly.

Cairo continues to hold her chin up, silently asking me something. With my heart pounding in anticipation, I lean in slightly and press my lips against hers, initiating the long-awaited kiss. My hand delicately rests against her cheek, caressing it gently as we let ourselves be carried away by the intensity of the moment. Cairo pulls me closer, making me smile during the kiss.

As the oxygen dwindles, we reluctantly break the kiss, our foreheads resting against each other. Our smiles widen as we gaze into each other's eyes with affection and gratitude.

"You've taught me so much too, my Muse," I whisper softly, feeling the warmth of her breath against my face.

Cairo smiles again and pulls me towards her for a long and much-desired kiss.

@classypauli

@thebloomonster

[saturnznct]

d-7; they make him a christmas card | ldh

➸ word count; 867 words

➸ dalgun; aged 11, kyungah; aged 6, sunhee; aged 2

nct masterlist | dadmas masterlist (lnks will be added later)

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Donghyuck absolutely loved anything and everything that his children made. With having three children all aged within elementary school and pre-school it was constant. The paintings, drawings, sewing projects, clay models, posters, easter cards, father’s day cards, halloween cards, and pictures made from stuck down seeds, stones or other random materials. Donghyuck cherished every single one of these art pieces, insisting to you that each child was a prodigy and was going to make it big as an artist one day. He kept everything in a box under the bed, treating them as keepsakes for the future and almost like reassurance that his children’s creative minds are alive and blossoming. So when this year, you wanted to have his Christmas presents be a bit more personal, you thought a card was a perfect place to start. 

He was out of on schedules for a lot of the day, leaving you plenty of time to have the kids make three individual cards for Donghyuck. You practically bought all of the craft stores stock, barely any of your dining room table could be seen underneath. 

‘Have you guys thought about what you’re going to draw on daddy’s card?’ you ask, hoping to pick their brains a little.

‘I-I’m going draw daddy, dancing as Santa,’ Sunhee chirps, grabbing a red crayon from the carton.

‘I’m sure he’ll love that,’ you chuckle, ‘what about you, Kyungah?’

‘I think I’ll do a snowman,’ she purses her lips, in thought, ‘I think I’ll use black card and the special pen.’

‘Good choice,’ you nod, ‘Dalgun?’

‘I’m not sure yet, still thinking..’

You do some work of your own while the kids craft, going through bills and finances and other things that needed organised.

’Sunhee!’ Kyungah suddenly exclaims, prompting your head to snap up. 

There’s a patch of silver glitter across the table, from a tall pot. Sunhee looks mortified, quickly turning to look at you and gage your reaction.

‘It’s okay Sunhee, accidents happen,’ you give her shoulder a reassuring pat, ‘it can be cleaned up.’

You grab a dustpan, quickly sweeping up the glitter from the table and throwing it into the dustbin.

‘Do you want some help?’ you ask Sunhee, who’s card is covered in red, green and blue scribbles, and now specks of silver glitter.

‘I think I’m done,’ she examines her work.

‘Would you like mummy/mommy to write the message for you?’

‘Please,’ she nods, before deciding she’s well and truly finished with the task, hopping off her chair and running into the living room, where you can thankfully still see her as she plays. 

You write down a message for Donghyuck, signing Sunhee’s name for her, since she hadn’t learned to write yet. Kyungah and Dalgun finish up their cards and write their own messages.

Donghyuck doesn’t arrive home until late, way past your daughter’s bedtimes, and a little past Dalgun’s.

‘Have the kids been okay today?’ he asks you as he finally gets into bed, sinking into the mattress with a deep sigh.

‘Yeah, we had a fun day,’ you grin, settling into his arms, ‘the kids made a surprise for you.’

‘Oh really?’

‘Yeah, give it to you tomorrow.’

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

‘Dada!’

‘Hello my angel,’ Donghyuck lifts Sunhee into his arms, ‘good morning.’

‘Daddy, we have a surprise for you,’ Kyungah holds out the three envelopes, two with ‘Dad’ and ‘Daddy’ written in Dalgun and Kyungah’s handwriting, the other with ‘Dada’ written in yours.

‘Ah, what’s this?’ Donghyuck coos, ‘you three are so cute! Which one should I open first?’

‘Let’s go youngest to oldest,’ you suggest, preventing a possible argument from breaking out.

Donghyuck opens the envelope with ‘Dada’ written on, face breaking into a huge smile when he sees that Sunhee has made the card herself.

‘What’s this?’

‘Daddy dressed like Santa, on the stage.’

‘Oh, of course,’ Donghyuck smacks himself on the head as if he’s said something completely stupid, ‘I love it, you drew so well, Sunhee!’

‘Me next!’ Kyungah chimes in.

Donghyuck opens the next envelope, pulling out a drawing on black card of a Snowman in the snow, drawn with a special white pen that shows up on the black paper.

’Kyungah, you’re so great at drawing,’ Donghyuck praises, ‘it’s really neat!’

‘Thank you daddy,’ she says shyly.

‘Now,’ Donghyuck opens the card, ‘To Daddy, I hope we can have a fun Christmas together. I miss you. Love from Kyungah.. Ah, come here.’

He pulls his older daughter into a hug, ‘I miss you too, Kyungie. Thank you, I love my card.’

’Time for Dalgun,’ you say, Donghyuck quickly unsealing the envelope, and pulling out a card.

You feel a pull on your heartstrings when you realise Dalgun has drawn a family portrait, the five of you in front of a big Christmas tree.

‘Ah, Dalgun, I love it,’ Donghyuck looks genuinely incredibly moved, full of pride by what his children have made for him.

’To Dad, Merry Christmas, you’re the coolest. From Dalgunie. Ah thank you, son. The three- the four of you are amazing.’

‘Ok, family hug,’ you hold out your arms, the rest of the family joining in.

‘Right, let’s get these straight on the mantelpiece.’ 

[ratg0r3]

P1x Reader/Crust Punk

cw for smoking i guess lmao

please give me ur thoughts on it, once i get my ao3 acc ill upload it there, for now check out this page on my site

"That'll be $10.95," I say in my barely awake tone, trying to make it through the next five minutes so I can finally clock out. The tall ginger nods and pulls out his wallet; it's barely a wallet anymore with how it's falling apart. He has become one of the regulars, at least for my shift. Getting the same pack of cigarettes every month, the only thing different is the amount of lighters this guy goes through. If I were asked to give a number on how many he buys a month, it would be around six.

"Here, $11…" he says quietly, bringing me back to reality. Holding out the two bills in front of me, I ring his items up, a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, giving him back a nickel in the process. After the transaction is complete, he grabs the items and shoves them in his pocket, turning the corner after exiting the store.

Sighing after a deep breath, I look around. There's nothing to clean up tonight. The night shift guy comes from the back of the store and walks up beside me behind the counter.

"Slow night, let's hope it stays that way through my shift too…" he says.

I nod and pat the counter, not really wanting to stay and chat. "Well, it's time for me to head out. See ya-" After clocking out for the day, I step outside the store and close my eyes as my head tilts up. Taking a deep breath in, I look to the right. The ginger regular is there, leaning against the wall. He's listening to something on his Walkman as he writes or draws in a small book and smokes.

Walking to the side, I pull out my pack of cigarettes and check my pockets for my lighter. After a few seconds of searching, I pull one out of my back pocket, trying to ignite it for the smallest flame, only to find it empty.

"Damn…" I try to play it off, hoping no one saw me struggle with the lighter. I turn to the guy, still writing in his journal. Walking over to him, he glances hesitantly back and forth from the book to me.

"Hey, can you give me a light?" I say awkwardly, smiling at him.

He nods quickly and shyly as he pockets the pen and book in the inner pocket of his trench coat. He swiftly pulls out the lighter he just bought and lights it.

"Here, long day?" he says through his shy demeanor as he pockets the lighter.

"Yeah…" I stand next to him, leaning against the store wall, taking a drag of the cigarette, letting the bitter smoke enter my lungs.

"So, not to sound intrusive but, why do you buy so many lighters?" I say, trying to make small talk with him. He looks away and thinks for a second before responding.

"I like watching fires. I uhm… have a fire pit behind my house and a lot of candles inside my house too…" he says in a slightly hushed tone. I can tell he doesn't talk much to other people.

"Oh, nice." I respond before we both go silent, just enjoying the weather before the wind picks up. The air starts to become damp and cold, and I take a last drag of my cigarette before putting it out. He does the same by smothering his with the sole of his boot as he sighs. "Well, it was nice meeting you," he says in a low tone.

"Yeah, you too. Hey, thanks for letting me use your lighter. I'll see you around?" I say, feeling just a bit more awkward than a few seconds before. Scratching the back of my neck as I smile.

"Hell yeah, sounds nice." A soft, subtle smile appears on his face, and I look up to see my awkward reflection staring back from his shades. Watching as his long hair blows in the wind, and the goatee, though slightly untamed, completes the look.

"Hey, you alright?" He asks, snapping me out of my trance. "Oh. I- I'm sorry, really- I'm sorry I was staring, storms coming I should probably go." Flustered, I look down, not wanting to make eye contact with him. "Yeah, we should start to leave. Well, see you-" I see a hand come into my view. Looking up, he has an awkward smile on his face. I reach to shake his hand, and it's firm and strong.

Nodding, he turns away, fidgeting with his Walkman to turn it up. I feel disappointed as he leaves, wanting to stay and chat with him more. Walking back to my car, rain starts to fall. As I get into my car, the rain becomes heavy. I hope that the ginger got into his car or got home before it started pouring. Turning the car on, the radio starts to play some music, but I quickly put one of my cassettes into the player, Type O Negative's album Bloody Kisses.

[lacunasbalustrade]

a day with you (updated from my ao3 fic)

A day with you.

Just being able to watch the ebb and fall of your lungs, the way you draw your steady breaths (like you're sketching a picture with your mouth and the quirk of your lips), the pace of your footsteps with their signature assured print, as familiar to the ear as the register of your voice cadence.

Just lazily realising, as you scrawl those characters over the rough texture of paper, how very familiar your habits are. How you click your pen after every third word, how your nib hesitates when you hit the comma and start to move towards the full stop, the bite of your lip that's barely noticeable but leaves such an impression on me.

Just folding my hand into yours like oragami, translucent skin to tan, and reconstructing a pattern over and over again, as we try to move in tandem so our linked arms don't sway awkwardly or end up brushing each other's butts, so our elbows can touch but not bump painfully into each other, so we can feel every inch of our fingers.

Look, we are one entity already.

Just feeding you, hand to mouth, when you're too busy to pick up food yourself, or your hands are dirty. That slight, plump, push of my fingertips against your lips, or yours against mine when you return the favour, tracing a little line from across my void to your heart. Reaching out over an endless space to hold your breath tenderly, pushing in a delicious nugget of my thoughts and my feelings that you swallow, your Adam's apple going up and down in your throat, mine bobbing along.

We are in the same barrel, us apples, red cheeked and rosy.

So simple, and so is everything between us. Mutual trust, unwavering faith, supplemented by the daily words we speak. Watered, fertilised, by the littlest rituals, and to some people outside our circle it could be boring.

But I love learning you.

I love how you blink twice after saying someone's name.

I love how you slam your fist down with your thumb curled up under the rest of your fingers, a martial artist's habit, a souvenir from the days that were darker than you can shake. Those days that are now washed away like stains on linen disappear as we hang them up to dry, shake them out to fold.

Small domesticies, and what I would not give to keep your jaw as it works into your characteristic ' figuring something out ' scowl, that scowl you only pull out when you have to hang something without it blowing into your face or off the line on a windy day.

You splutter as the clothes disobey, and I confess I take too much pleasure in watching your agonized expression as you two wrestle, as you tussle.

I love knowing you better than you know yourself, knowing you in a way only I am permitted to, only I am permitted to witness, only I can bear knowledge of.

And I love watching you change, the same way seasons fade and the day wanes to night, standing by your side as the glow of the rising sun in your eyes silhouettes and returns to the halo of the setting sun on your brows. The ability to have your presence affect the way the light falls, the same love in a different context, the same emotions in a completely unrelated experience. These days with you are made of that love, overlapping fingerprints that blur and smudge where they touch each other in a whirlpool of memories.

Some days with you, I believe I will never run out of things to learn, and some days, I believe I have learned everything there is to learn.

Whether or not I have, it does not matter.

Learning you was a choice before, but now it is as much a habit as breathing, a habit I can only break at the expense of my life and sanity.

A day with you. How the wind holds you in the highest regard, stroking your soft skin and curling your hair into the soft foaming waves of the sea. How the cool water leaves your eyelashes dipping under their weight mischievously, lending you a look of pensive amusement that is so unlike you, I laugh. Silence that hangs between us like a scarf because there is no need to reply to each other, the warm way you watch me in return says everything, and silence wrapping around our shoulders connects us like a shelter overhead, the ceiling of a bus stop where rain is splashing outside and around us but we are pleasantly dry despite the goosebumps rising and blooming on the surface of our skin.

The world is so very white in the rain, but your colour alone is enough to make my heartbeat slow down.

A day with you, utilising separate earbuds but listening to the same song, and as we cross the road I softly hum in tandem with you, forming a soft watercolour of sound that bleeds and fades away in a mixture of harmony and contented breaths. We don't need the music to follow each other's rhythm; this is a duet that could continue in the chaos of honking cars.

A day with you, under the clouds without a star to be seen and the waning moon popping through the world's blanket to watch us walk home under this cool blue, exchanging anecdotes from our school bags. A pencil I lent from you, a preserved four leaf clover you asked to see, a tie you have to put on tomorrow but don't know how to, a lollipop I knew you would like but I do not, I have never liked hard candies that crunch beneath my teeth. Shorthand conversations about cards and video games, plenty of terms like that no stranger could decipher if they walked up behind us, that fit as perfectly as if we are plants with tangled roots that wind around each other, cannot live without each other, cannot withstand the slightest breeze without toppling into the grass. We don't have anything like boundaries, all we have is communication and bursts of emotion that more than make up for any accidental transgressions between us, transgressions that I would unequivocally forgive you for and that you would, I am sure, hold to your heart as proof that we still have so much more to memorise and smoothen over with each other, that we still have a road you refuse to abandon.

More reasons for you to keep saying 'Mornin.' and for me to say 'G'night'.

And that is so much more than anything the rest of the world can offer us, warped up with assumptions and expectations that we could never bear by ourselves.

Days with you.

A day with you that I can put my heart into.

[the-city-kitty]

Something just kinda hit me the other day and I realized that I have not thought about my OCs in.... a good long while. And suddenly I was just awash with "I missed this. I missed these characters. I missed these worlds I created why did I stop?" And it wasn't as if I'd some sort of breakthrough or any special epiphany regarding it, it was just the barest straight thought of: "Oh, I should remember to write down some notes about these worlds in the personal writing section of my binder" and like.... again I haven't thought about these things in years so it was just so weird to have such a casual throwaway thought about something that I used to really spend time thinking about and coming up with ideas for that now almost feels abandoned but.... I still care. I still care about these worlds I created and the characters I put in them.

Maybe being a creative writing student has made me too used to having to have a quick turnaround time to have something new for class every week, so I dedicated more brainpower to one-off characters I would never write about again. Or maybe it's because outside of school I tend to focus on fanfic because then I don't have to use any brain power to come up with characters they're right there for me ready to go and I can just play with them like proverbial barbie dolls. Or maybe it's because in the time between the inception of these worlds and these characters I was so depressed for so long that even though they waited for me in the back of my mind like patient friends I truly thought I would never really be able to pick up my pen and really write again. Maybe it's all of that or none of it at all. Maybe I stopped because I never really started.

I have never spoken about my OCs or the worlds they live in publicly, hell even now as I'm typing this I keep on being vague, obliquely referring to just the bare minimum of the concept to get my point across, "my OCs," "my Worlds," because I know absolutely no one will know what or who the fuck I'm talking about. I have kept it all so incredibly private because I never felt like there was enough to justify talking about it. Not enough of a story, not enough of a character bio, "my art will never be good enough to convey how I think they look in my head so I shouldn't bother trying to draw them even though my hands are itching to do it." I never felt like they were done. But the truth is that they're never going to be done because I keep holding on so tightly to the idea of having something that is perfect and polished and impressive. But the longer I've spent really pursuing creative writing (I'm getting a degree in it) I've really started to come to terms with the fact that things just don't begin how they end up. Maybe I had that stray thought because after so much time away I'm finally ready to take the plunge back into those worlds I created and explore their full potential.

[pizaoisi]

vent?

this is my first time doing something like this..so this is the only website where my folks and people from school are not present.. i am writing this because i've seen people say that doing this kinda helps in lessening the burden? honestly i just need someone to whom i can talk...even just a little bit of comforting is fine so starting things i'm still in school and this year is really important for my academic career and i'm not trying to brag but i've always been one of them smarter kids in the class. for as long as i can remember my name was on the top 3 students of the class, things were smooth during this covid stuff too..i was doing just as good in the online classes and once everything went back to normal offline ones i was still doing fine, "fine" here meaning i was able to understand the topics well enough compared to majority of the class. so schools opened in my country like 2 years ago so the last grade i was in, i did pretty good academically. then this year started and as usual i was doing super good, i was understanding everything and i did well in the first few tests too, recently after the half yearly exams i started to feel really lazy? i just wanted to take the longest naps i could ever think of. so eventually i started to spend most of my time on my bed just sleeping and gradually i started to lose interest in like every thing i liked. i was good in academics but i was too tired and burnt out to even gather up any energy to open the textbooks or pick up the pen, i just felt so lifeless during that time when it first started..eventually tho, my grades and attendance started to drop. like a full 180 degree. i was confused at first as to why it was happening but as i said i was too burnt out to even care. growing up i never had any problem socializing with people but it was during now that i find it very difficult. i find it very hard and almost scary to maintain a proper conversation with someone i don't know that well, and it becomes worse when it comes to making eye contact. so days passed like this and i kept feeling heavier and heavier it was as if something was bottling up inside. i never told anyone about this, i'm scared that they'll either end up thinking i'm a creep or they'll cut off any contact with me. i've seen kids getting bullied in my school because other students thought that they were being very "edgy". but i only realized now how bad it actually feels, to be surrounded by soo many people but you still don't have you can open up to, talk about your problems and shit..everyone seems busy with their studies and here i am eating dinner with my family just wandering into space. from the past few weeks, well i am ashamed to say it but i've been having thoughts that it would be better if i kill myself, i wake up every day and just spend 30 minutes thinking that i should kill myself or not. i don't feel good enough anymore, i'm not confident like i used to be as a matter of fact i'm quite the opposite now. i'm at a point like right now where i'm not sure what is right or wrong anymore. i barely show up to school or any event now. i was good at drawing once but i'm slowly losing interest and touch in that too. i think i have ranted long enough but there was this one thing i wanted to talk about. i never really understood what breaking down actually was, that is until last wednesday. i was in my bed and suddenly started to feel my eyes become heavy, i tried to avoid the feeling of it but it kept getting more and more until i was unable to hold it anymore. within seconds i was just sobbing and crying like a 8 year old. i somehow managed to keep it low so that my parents wouldn't hear it but it was really scary how it just happened all of a sudden because i can't remember crying in something like 5 years and the way the tears just kept coming out of my eyes were scary. i would like to end this chattering now because it's about time my mum comes home. i just hope nobody i know find this and i do not aim for any negative comments as well.

[sunbeamstress]

i struggled for a very long time to understand why i didn't want to make art.

it was such a mystery! some blind spot in my psyche i couldn't get a fix on.

"why haven't i drawn in months?"

"why am i sitting here playing video games? i still can barely draw hands"

"why don't i post my work online?"

"why haven't i started a webcomic yet? i wanted to over a decade ago"

why? why? why?

why was i torturing myself? all i could see in the back of my mind was my mother, seated in her armchair, the dated old phone stretching across the living room with her at the center of its web. she would always couch the phone against her cheek and shoulder and lay her knuckles against it for stability; her left hand - the one i use, myself - would reach for a pen and fill page after page of doodles into a notepad.

i remember beautiful filigree designs and landscapes and pretty flowers and sometimes an instance of something lovely in the faces of her husband or her children, captured on paper without her even having to think about it. entire worlds spilling out of her fingertips while her mind was occupied with other things.

but she stopped.

she can't draw, now. she no longer has the talent. she used to beg me to sing because my voice was a gift to god, but she had a gift from god and she left it in a dumpster. these days i don't believe in god, and i don't believe in my mother, either.

in a circumspect way i'm grateful to her for this. i'd think about her every time i picked up a pencil. this unforgivable act of waste, in my eyes, was a fire under my ass that kept my hand moving. it gives me pleasure to admit, with honesty, that while i rarely sketch or paint, i only ever seem to get better at it. to this day, i'm not half bad. in my late thirties, i'm at a skill level that i was seeing out of the very most gifted artists in their mid-twenties.

but isn't that a silly way of looking at it? "i'm 37, and i draw at least as well as a really good 24 year old". what nonsense is this? this is the sort of invasive thing that likes to run amok in my head. what sense does it make to compare myself like we're talking shonen manga power levels? why am i racing other artists? why do i have to compete?

it took me a very long time to realize that Competition Itself had supplanted what i loved about art. it wasn't something i did consciously; it just sort of happened when i was in my late teens, my early adult years, and the internet's artistic community had exploded, a detailed landscape peppered with talented people, all with their own gifts from god, gleaming and gilded and razor-edged. they were doing things i'd never imagined. they were making comics and putting their work in indie video games. they were doing animations in flash. holy shit - they were making porn! this might sound quaint to you, O reader, but by internet standards i'm what you call an "old-ass bitch" and in those days, this was pretty novel.

god, i wanted what they had so bad. i wanted a webcomic. i was going to call it "Absolute Vertigo", whatever that meant, and it would have been garbage, but i didn't care. i wanted "Absolute Vertigo by <SCREEN NAME>" at the top of a kitschy website and i wanted people to gush about how cool it was and put it into their RSS feeds and--

this was the beginning of the end, in many ways. i really wasn't cut out for competition. it would take a really long time to figure this out. my peers were putting out improbably cool stuff and i felt like i was flagging. i didn't realize it yet, but the internal language i was using to talk to myself about art was changing. suddenly i was "worse" or "better" than other artists. suddenly they were "doing more" or being more "successful" than me.

art had become a commodity.

it's wild how this sort of mindset can take a mind of its own, can build its own character, can work its way deeper into your brain. at first art was discouraging - it was this thing my mother was good at but neglected. it was this thing i felt like i was worse at than everyone else. but then it became depressing. Art, this platonic ideal of it, this idea of it in the abstract, was turning into a weapon i was using to torture myself. reader, you have no idea how many nights i couldn't sleep. to merely ideate failure was to hurl myself back through time, back to the moment i realized my mother had given up.

"why haven't i drawn in months?"

"why am i sitting here playing video games? i still can barely draw hands"

"why don't i post my work online?"

"why haven't i started a webcomic yet? i wanted to over a decade ago"

i didn't have an answer for these questions, but still they were there. they weren't important or meaningful questions, they were tools i used to torture myself. i was supposed to improve for the sake of improvement, and to enjoy art as an act of pure creation, but instead it was a hammer i would hit myself over the head with because i wasn't doing it good enough. crazy how you can talk about your own talent the way you can talk about a dead-end job.

looking back now, it's astounding that i didn't understand all of this. it seems to make so much more sense. i've always had stories and characters floating around in my head - it's literally my favorite pastime - but it took me a very long, very painful time to realize that having stories and having characters doesn't mean you're a failure if you don't immediately march to the nearest sketchbook and jot them down.

the gift of art does not obligate you to produce it. if you cast it aside, the world isn't made better or worse.

your art exists for you. it should please you, should bring a smile to your face or evoke feelings you don't dare face on your own. art should help you work through trauma. it should express when you're happy. art is a frame for the picture of you.

it should even be okay to let it go.

it's going to take me a long time to forgive my mother. but i think i understand her a little better.

[apocalypticgargoyle]

Oh my god i just found you're writing and I'm obssessed. First of all, I'm in love with your edgy!karl series. Seriously, it's amazing. Second of all, I had a little idea that you can take as a request if you'd like. I was thinking edgy!dream/clay but with a shy innocent girl. And a hint of some fear play kink? Like she's all cute and he's so edgy shes scared and intimidated by him when they meet and it turns him on knowing shes both scared of him AND attracted to him at the same time so he uses it against her(consensually of course)

can we call him alt!dream? ;) also,,, i rly like this request...

𝐉𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐘𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐒. ♘ 𝐚𝐥𝐭!𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 (𝟏𝟖+)

pairing: alt!Dreamwastaken x fm!reader

warnings: smut (18+), fighting, smoking, language, oral (fm. receiving), fear play, asphyxiation, sight size kink & praise, dominance

The movie theatre dimmed, the beginning credits of the film reeling as a montage of a city played in the background. You settled back in your seat, accepting the fact that you had been stood up, determined not to let it ruin the movie you had already paid for. That’s right; instead of treating yourself to a new pair of shoes or a set of notebooks, you agreed to meet up with a sleazy guy from class after weeks of him pleading.

You sighed slightly, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you realized you hadn’t even wanted to see the film and had only agreed because he suggested it. Someone moved into a seat near you, his legs stretching as he slumped down, purely due to his towering height. You stiffened, crossing your legs to inch away from him at the sight of his various tattoos peeking out from beneath his dark corduroy jacket.

He carded a hand through his dirty blond hair, revealing an eyebrow ring as he swept his bangs off his forehead momentarily. You tore your eyes from him as you noticed the cigarette balanced behind his ear. Even with the seat between the two, you could smell the smoke on his clothes mixing with the faintest hint of vanilla.

You folded your hands in your lap as you noticed him give you a once over. He reached towards you, making you flinch slightly before you realized he was holding out his bag of candy to you. “Want a jellybean? You look upset,” he motioned, voice low as he whispered.

You shook your head quickly, muttering a thank you and playing with your fingers. He shrugged, watching you for a second more before turning back to the movie. He tucked his arm behind his head, chewing on his lip as if debating whether he should keep talking to you or just let you be. You weren’t really sure which outcome you preferred.

On one hand, he fit every one of your guilty pleasure fantasies, while on the other, he terrified the hell out of you. It was more of an intimidating feeling, residing in the way each of his movements caught your attention and the way you could barely keep your eyes off his grungy appearance. Your mind drifted from the plot of the movie and towards the images of his tattooed hands wrapping around your throat and giving you a reason to be scared.

“You here alone?” He asked, popping another jellybean in his mouth. The action made you think of your grandpa waning himself off of tobacco when you were younger. Those jellybeans were blue and a flavor of comfort for you now, while the man before you seemed to only fish for the red ones.

You nodded hesitantly. “I got stood up,” you mumbled, making him shake his softly. “What about you? Are you here alone?” You wondered where you had gathered the courage to talk to him, his demeanor making you want to run, but his voice was a symphony to your ears in the darkness of the movie house, drawing you closer with each of his lulling words.

He wet his lips. “So far,” he answered. He stuck out his large hand for you to shake, his skin was coarse against yours as his finger reached to brush against your wrist. “I’m Clay,” he added, his name rolling into your mind and nestling itself into your memory just due to the tone of his voice. After you gave him your name his mouth curled into a soft smirk. “It’s nice to meet you,” he remarked. You blushed for an unknown reason, thankful for the darkness to mask your emotions.

Someone entered the theatre, marching up to Clay and leaning down to his ear. “Dream, we have to go now,” the guy whispered into his ear, just loud enough that you could hear him. Clay's face twisted into an annoyed expression while the guy turned to leave.

Clay straightened his jacket on his shoulders. “Not to seem to forward, but can I get your number?” He queried. You raised your eyebrows at him, basking in the fact that despite his friend’s agitation, Clay was taking his sweet time making his move on you.

As if you were acting on instinct, you grabbed a pen from your bag as he held his hand out to you again. You found a bare spot on his skin and wrote your number as clearly as you could manage with your shaking hands at the way his eyes watched you alluringly. Without thinking, you blew on the ink, trying to keep it from smearing. You froze, realizing what you were doing as he bit back a smirk.

He was completely eating up your awkwardness.

He reluctantly took his hand back, being pulled up by his friend. “I’ll call you,” he whispered on his way out, heat rushing to your ears.

The movie ended shortly after he left, sending you back out onto the city streets and away from your cocoon where you had forgotten about the sleazy classmate and let thoughts of Clay weasel their way into your nerves. As you stepped through the doors, your phone began to ring, kick-starting your heart at the thought of it being Clay. Instead, it was a friend of yours asking how your date had gone. You tucked the phone between your ear and shoulder as you pulled a piece of gum out of your purse.

Her ramblings went deaf on your ears as a car violently pulled up to an alleyway a block from you. You squinted as you moved closer, your apartment being in that direction anyway. A few men got from the car and that’s when Clay stepped into view from behind one of the buildings, flicking his cigarette to the ground and snubbing it out with the toe of his heavy boots as he watched them get out. You could see your number still written on his hand, mixing with his tattoos.

He shoved his hands in his pockets, looking tiredly at the group of men that had come from the car as his friends began to shout at them. Clay chewed on his lip, looking around and away from the conversation before his gaze met yours. His eyes widened slightly before he turned back, an attempt to keep the attention away from you.

One of the car members grabbed for Clay’s jacket, yanking him closer as if to get him to pay mind to the man talking. Clay sent him a cocky grin, towering over him. With his normal height and his boots, he had at least a foot on the guy. One of Clay’s friends separated the two, breaking the groups into a brawl while shouting was accompanied with fists and elbow jabs.

You turned, walking in another direction as briskly as you could without bringing attention to yourself and the group of boys in the alleyway. Little did you know, Clay was watching you leave and kicking himself for it.

The next day, your mind was racing with Clay’s whereabouts. He seemed like he had his opponents under control, but what if one of them had brought a knife or another weapon? It wasn’t unusual for boys in the city to butt heads like they were, but the fact that you’d let one nearly pick you up the night before was boggling.

You gripped the strap of your bag as you crossed the street, stepping onto the sidewalk and adjusting your skirt. You kept your head down as you passed various people coming and going from their apartments before your ears picked up on a familiar voice. You picked your eyes up, spotting Clay and a small group of guys walking together. He popped a jellybean in his mouth after chiming into their conversation.

You held your breath as they neared you and that’s when you noticed his bruised face and scraped knuckles. Your number was faded on his skin, but still apparent on the back of his hand. He smiled at you, breaking off from his group and walking backward to match your pace. You bit back a smile. “Glad to see you’re okay,” you mumbled, barely able to make eye contact with him. His friends called out for him and he waved them off, walking in line with you.

He chuckled lightly. “Yeah, sorry. I would have called last night but…” he made a gesture to his torso as he trailed off. “I broke a rib. I didn’t really… I don’t.” He laughed sheepishly as you raised your eyebrows. “I’m fine. It’s good,” he brushed.

You picked your gaze off the pavement finally, focusing on his discolored black eye and busted lip. He didn’t seem to be too hurt, but he wore his wounds well. “You’re not scared of me, are you?” He asked, voice changing slightly. You drew in a sharp breath, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before it could get further knotted in the wind. A few people narrowed their eyes at the two of you and you wondered how you looked together. What kind of juxtaposition it was; his tall, dark figure looking like death in Doc Martens while you barely passed his shoulder in height with your less intimidating color scheme.

You debated how to answer him. Your eyes flickered to his dangly earring; a silver ankh. He ate another jellybean. “I was at first. I’m still kind of weary of you, I guess,” you muttered, making a smile bite into his features.

Clay ran his fingers through his hair, which you were beginning to believe was a habit when he was coming up with what to say. “Do you want me to leave you alone?”

You shook your head. A blush crept to your cheeks. “No, I kind of like it,” you mumbled, barely audible enough for him to hear. His hand slipped into yours and you could feel your chest tighten.

“You like being scared of me?” His voice was dripping with allure, making you bite your tongue in a flushed embarrassment. “You just keep getting better and better,” he teased, making your ears burn.

You weren’t sure how you ended up there, but God, were you thankful for Clay’s hands as they kneaded your ass, his lips pressing against yours. He ground his hips against yours, moaning into your mouth as your nails sank into his tattooed skin. His tongue pressed past your lips, his large hand moving to fist in the sheets beside you before dragging up your shirt to grip your breast.

You breathlessly moaned as he broke your kiss, lips trailing down your body as he sat back on his knees, dragging your underwear off as your shirt was also discarded to the floor. He looped his arms around your thighs, bringing you closer to his mouth as his concentrated stare shifted to your eyes before he buried himself between your legs, your body tensing as a groan ripped through your body. Your fingers carded through his soft blond hair, tugging slightly in appraisal as he pulled away from you.

Clay looked up at you again, slowly pressing one of his long fingers into you, you moaned his name, reaching one of your hands up to grip at the headboard above you. “Does that feel good, sweetheart?” He asked, voice deep with lust as his breath fanned against your wet core. He pushed another finger into you as you nodded. He pressed his lips to your thigh. “I can’t believe you’re scared of me,” he mocked, making you whimper as his fingers pulsed against your sweet spot.

He pressed his lips to your core again, tongue teasing at your nerves as you caught your lips between your teeth. You moved your knee further up his arm for a better angle, driving him deeper. He pulled away, his fingers speeding up. “So needy,” he chuckled, the sound enough to send you over the edge if you really thought about it.

“Clay, please. I want you,” you whined softly, your thighs threatening to close around his head. His eyes sparkled devilishly, leaning away from you before tugging your legs towards him. He pushed his fingers into your mouth, jaw tensing as you moaned around him.

He grabbed your hips, flipping your body and pushing your shoulders into the mattress. You heard him unbuckling his belt and your fingers knitted into the sheets beneath you. He pulled you back by the shoulders, hand moving to hold onto your neck. “Maybe I should give you something to be scared of,” he chided, making a shiver run up your spine as he pushed your thighs apart driving himself up into you. You were sure you would tear in half at the sheer size of him, but you bit back your whimpers at the pleasuring pain.

One of your hands moved to grip onto his arm as he thrust into you, his teeth threatening to dig into your shoulder as you moaned. His other hand moved to tease at your nerves, his determination to summon your orgasm sending your head reeling. You tilted back your head, resting against his shoulder as his hand tightened around your throat.

He let go of you, dipping you against the mattress again as his fist knotted in your hair. He steadied himself, leaning on one of his arms beside your head. Your hand wrapped around his wrist as he thrusted into you at an ungodly pace, lips hovering beside your ear as he grunted your name and how good you felt.

You pushed your hips up against him turning your head enough that he pressed his lips against yours, the vibrations from his moans sending heat throughout your body. Clay’s tongue slipped into your mouth roughly, tasting your whimpers and lust. His teeth dragged against your lip as you felt him throb inside of you.

He pushed your shoulder back, moving you on your side as your leg curled around. At the new angle, he could drive himself deeper into you; dark green eyes focused on yours as his warmed breath cascaded over your chest. His hand moved to your jaw, running his thumb against your burning lips as his sights were almost hungrily looking upon you. Your breathing became shallow as he smirked at you, moving his hand to your throat again.

He leaned down, slowing his pace to drag in and out of you as his lips were close to your ear. He applied pressure, your breath hitching in your throat. “So pretty. Good girl, taking me so well,” he praised, making you moan as he kissed you again before speeding up his thrusts. You moaned out his name again, finishing as your eyes fluttered shut. He chuckled darkly, pounding into you harder. “Fuck,” he hissed, lips pressing to the skin behind your ears, digging his face into your hair as he chased his high.

He exhaled, breath blanketing your skin before he kissed your shoulder, cheek, and finally your lips in a quiet appraisal. You pulled him into the spot beside you. He ran his fingers through his hair as you curled against his side, his other hand brushing softly against your arm. You knotted your fingers with his, brushing your thumb against where your faded number rested. “Didn’t you just break a rib?” You asked, finally noticing the slide bruising on his side.

Clay chuckled softly. “Yeah, I think I was running on adrenaline until a second ago,” he groaned.

Dream Tag List: (to join, follow this link :))

@karlkitten @pluto-dizzz @more-like-reyna @honk-izzie-was-taken @marrymetheonott @froggyy06 @ghoulandghost @savingpluto @marshmallow-babe @drunkpumpkincake

[alcinadimitrescuwu]

The Portrait (An Alcina x Maiden Fanfic)

You walk into the Atelier and find yourself once again gazing at the portrait of the Lady of the Castle, Lady Dimitrescu. She must have commissioned the portrait when she was younger because she looked like she was in her mid-20’s. She stands in an ivory-colored dress with a full skirt, holding a glass of wine. Her face is clear of her laugh lines, under-eye circles, and wrinkles but she is still as elegant and beautiful as ever. You move closer to get a better look and suddenly wonder who might have painted this portrait. Were they close to Lady Dimitrescu?

“Do you like it?”

You whirl around swiftly and find yourself face to face with Alcina Dimitrescu. The corner of her mouth quirks up in an amused grin, making her laugh lines indent into her cheekbones. Her golden eyes are glittering with mischief.

“Well?” she prompts.

You come back to yourself. “I-It’s lovely, my Lady,” you stammer. “Did you commission someone to make it for you?”

Alcina lets out a laugh like tinkling bells. “Why, yes. In fact you could say that the two of us were rather close.” She steps closer to you and the portrait, a knowing smirk on her face. “It was actually me that painted that portrait.”

“You?” you blurt out suddenly. Then you realize how rude you must sound. "Forgive me, my Lady,” you say, ducking your head in apology. “I meant no disrespect. I just didn’t know you were the artistic type.”

“Oh, I’ve dabbled in a lot of different art forms in my life, pet,” she says, and you see her eyes mist over as she reminisces. “I was classically trained in opera, I’ve painted landscapes and portraits, written poetry...I even was a jazz singer for a time. I made that portrait when I was 25. I was a very different woman than the one you see now.” She smiles self-deprecatingly. “Well, aside from the obvious, anyway.”

“It’s exquisite,” you breathe as you lean your head to get a better look at the portrait. You think of something and turn to her. “Do you still paint, my Lady?”

“Lately I’ve taken to sketching. And now that you know my secret,” she says, giving you a conspiratorial wink. “Perhaps I might come in here and do my sketching while you clean.”

You suddenly remember the actual purpose of why you came to this room in the first place. “Right! I need to polish the bells! I’ll just get started on that, then!”

You hear her chuckle low in her throat as you scramble up the ladder, taking out your polish. You look over back at her and she has sat down on the sofa, slipping a pair of pearl chain half-moon spectacles over her nose. She takes out her pens and charcoal, flips to a new page in her sketchbook and bends her dark head down to work.

Soon you and Alcina have a little arrangement going where every time you enter the Atelier to work on your tasks, you know you will soon see Alcina ducking her head under the lintel to work on her sketching. While you are on the ladder, you sneak glances at her every so often. Her lashes kiss the tips of her cheekbones and her brow is furrowed in concentration. Sometimes you will look from her to the portrait and you conclude that if possible, her aging has made her even more beautiful.

You feel a hand on your back and jump making the ladder wobble slightly. The hand braces you against the ladder so you don’t fall and you hear a soft chuckle behind you. “I’m sorry, dear. I suppose I should have announced my presence beforehand. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s not a problem,” you say and you feel color flood your cheeks as you see you are truly face to face with Alcina Dimitrescu. Her face is merely inches from yours. Her golden eyes catch the light from the chandelier and up close you see they are not just golden but with hints of silver around the iris.

“There’s this spot around the gears that doesn’t get enough attention that I’d like to show you,” Alcina hands hover around your waist. “May I?”

You nod your consent and she gently moves you on the ladder until you’re on the other side. She bends down and whispers in your ear. “Just between the cog and the gear. Do you see it?” The smell of her perfume is intoxicating. You nod that you understand and she smiles. “Good! I know you always do a thorough job and I wanted to bring that to your attention.” With that she settles back down and resumes her sketching.

This goes on for a while, you working while Alcina is sketching. Occasionally she will take a break and stand nearby observing you as you work. You find it difficult to concentrate when she is around but she eventually smiles to herself saying, “Yes. Very good,” before returning to her seat. A couple times you are not certain but you think you might have seen a flush creep up her cheekbones before she resumes her sketching.

A couple of weeks of this go by and you notice Alcina is not satisfied with the progress of her drawing. You see that she is erasing more often and often starts from a completely new page in her sketchbook. “No, no, this isn’t right!” you hear her say aloud one day. You chance a look at her as you are on the ladder polishing the candlesticks. She is furiously scribbling on the sketchpad and when a loose lock of her ebony hair falls into her eyes, she pushes it impatiently away. You try to lean down further to get a better look. You’ve seen how talented she is, surely the sketch couldn’t be that bad…

Suddenly you feel the ladder twist from under you as you lose your balance. Your arms pinwheel helplessly in the air as you try to regain your footing but to no avail. You shut your eyes tight as you fall, hoping at the most you’ll just sprain an ankle.

Instead of the hard floor, you fall into something soft. You open your eyes and jolt back as you see Alcina’s aureate eyes staring back into yours. She chuckles. “It appears I cannot do much but startle you these days it seems.” She looks at you with a concerned expression. “Are you all right, dear?”

“Yes, my Lady, I’m fine,” you mumble. You blush scarlet as you are very aware that her gloved hand is on your upper thigh, your skirt riding up in her haste to catch you. She becomes aware of this too and smoothes your skirt down, murmuring an apology, but not before you catch the blush in her cheeks.

She turns her head quickly away to hide it, her hat covering her profile. “Would you like to take a moment and rest, dear? You’ve been working so hard, you deserve a break.”

You nod soundlessly and she takes you over to the sofa where she has been doing her sketching. She closes her sketchbook with a snap before you can get a good look at it.

A maid arrives with Alcina’s afternoon tea. “Set out an extra cup for Y/N, if you please,” she commands the parlor maid. The maid nods and pours you both cups of steaming apple cinnamon tea, perfect for a cold winter’s day.

When the maid bows and leaves, you turn to Lady Dimitrescu. You clear your throat. “Um, my Lady?”

She smiles at you over her teacup. “Yes, pet?”

You can’t help it. You’re positively burning with curiosity at this point. “What have you been drawing?” you ask before you can stop yourself.

Alcina’s cheekbones flood with color. “Oh, it’s nothing special really,” she says hurriedly. “Just some scribbles.”

You can hardly believe it. Was Lady Dimitrescu, usually so full of pride and grace, embarrassed? You see a scrap of paper on the ground near the sofa and pick it up. Alcina tries to stop you but you’ve already turned it over in your hands. You let out a little gasp of surprise as you see what Alcina has been drawing all this time.

There on the paper is a charcoal drawing of you polishing the bells. In the corner of the page is a closeup of you, your face shining in the chandelier light.

You look back at her, your mouth open in shock. When you finally gain the ability to form words, you ask, “Is this what you’ve been working on all this time, my Lady?” you ask quietly, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Alcina nods and opens her sketchbook to show even more pages of you. You staring at her portrait, you reaching up on your toes on the ladder to dust off a high shelf, you pouring her tea. There are pages upon pages of your likeness.

Alcina turns her head to face you. “I must confess that I had been in need of a new muse for my art,” she says. “When I saw you gazing at my portrait, something stirred within me. There is something about you that draws me to you.” She takes your chin gently in her gloved hand.

“Your hair,” she says, and she takes off your cap and settles your unbound hair about your shoulders. “Even pinned under your cap, it cannot conceal its beauty.” She takes your hand in hers. “Your skin,” she murmurs, pressing her lips to the back of your hand, making you feel a pleasant shiver go down your arm. “How it shines under the lamplight. Your eyes.” She is moving ever closer. “The way I could get lost in those fathomless depths. And your lips…”

Her face is so close to yours now, her lips parted. “What about my lips?” you whisper, scarcely daring to breathe.

You are not quite sure who closes the distance between you first, but you are suddenly in Alcina’s arms and you are kissing her fiercely, your hands weaving their way through her ebony locks. Her hands settle themselves around your waist as her tongue gently parts your lips. You lay back on the sofa and bring her head gently down with you. She braces one hand on the side of the couch while the other gently holds the back of your head.

The sound of the clock chiming startles you, making you break apart suddenly. Alcina lets out a girlish giggle. “We simply have to do something about those nerves of yours, draga mea,” she purrs. You smile and lift your head up to receive her kiss again.

[cheries-things]

secret santa

pairing: yunho x reader 

summary: you and yunho are each other's secret santa 

photo: ateezfilm on twitter

Ms. AZ, your Art 10 professor’s favorite holiday is Christmas.

She adorned the classroom with fairy lights, made everyone decorate the tree she brought to school, and played Christmas carols every day starting from December 1st.

So, it was not surprising when she announced on the last week before break that the class would be playing Secret Santa. 

The rule is simple. Each student draws a name to become someone’s Secret Santa, and on the last day of class, everyone will receive their gift.

You didn’t even think much of it until you read the name you had chosen from the bunch. 

Jeong Yunho. 

Yunho is the guy everyone likes, and it would be lying if you said you were an exception.

He is always smiley and full of life. It really is not difficult to feel comfortable around him. 

But, at the same time, his friendliness and all-too-perfect persona make him unapproachable.

Although he regularly borrows your supplies, your relationship is nothing more, nothing less. 

You didn’t think you would be able to buy a gift for someone you barely know, but it turns out you do know a whole lot about him. Yunho likes to collect electronics, dance, and play games.

But what can you get that he doesn’t already have? 

After a few hours of wandering from mall to mall, you decide on a “not-so-lame gift”—a reservation for glow-in-the-dark bowling.

You slipped the confirmation receipt in a nice envelope along with a scrawly message, Merry Xmas! I hope this will be a fun way to spend the holiday.”

(Flash forward to the last day of class) 

The bell rings, and everyone goes to pick up their Secret Santa gift. You and your friends sit together to open them. Your friends got teddy bears, snow globes, and perfumes, but yours was...a map???

“There are 4 treasure chests Y/N! You’re getting 4 presents!” 

Wow, your Secret Santa really knew how to make it interesting. After deciding that you would go treasure hunting after school, you couldn’t help but wish for time to pass faster.

As soon as class was dismissed, you dashed out the door with the map in your hands. 

In no time, you reached the location of the first treasure. Digging under the pole of the gym’s volleyball net, you found your first gift: a used eraser???

Okay, now you HAVE to know who the Secret Santa is. You followed the map to find the rest of the treasures: a used ball-point pen and an equally used brush. 

The last treasure was on the campus’s rooftop, but even though you searched every nook and cranny, you couldn’t find a gift. You were about to give up when someone tapped you from behind.

It must be your Secret Santa! 

Lo and behold, it’s Yunho. 

Yunho’s smile drops when he sees you freeze. “Are you disappointed it’s me?”

“No, it’s not that, it’s just- I wasn’t expecting you.” To describe you as flustered would be an understatement.

“Are you the fourth present?” you asked, and it’s his turn to blush, “Well, that would be nice, but there’s also this,” he extends his pretty hands to give you a box with a big bow. 

Inside, there were so many art supplies that you ran out of fingers to count. “I asked your friends about what you already have, so there shouldn’t be any duplicates,” Yunho says, suddenly shy because you’re beaming at him. 

It was such a thoughtful gift, and you were so happy that you almost forgot to ask him about the 3 other gifts. “Why the used eraser, ball-point pen, and brush?” 

“Don’t they look familiar to you?” He replies, causing you to scrunch your brows.

Right...they do look awfully familiar.

“They’re mines, aren’t they?” 

Yunho nods and laughs, “I borrowed them from you, but you never asked for them back.” 

“I’m not really good at confrontations. But you could have just left them on my desk...”

“Actually, I was borrowing them as an excuse to talk to you. I thought I’d get to strike another conversation when you ask for them back, but you didn’t. By the third time, I realized you were just not going to.”

Before you had the chance to process what you have just heard, Yunho (with his long legs) is already halfway out of the rooftop.

“Merry Xmas!!!” he says hastily and runs down the stairs so he won’t do something stupid like turn red. 

“Wait, Yunho!” You barely caught up with him halfway down the stairs. “What would you have said if I did come to ask about the stationery?” 

“I wanted to ask a few questions.” 

“Yeah? What are they?” 

The fact that you still want to hear what he has to say after his not-so-smooth act earlier sent him a surge of confidence. 

He takes a step up so that he’s closer to you.

“1. Do you have a boyfriend?”

Your breath unwillingly hitched, “No...” 

The corners of his lips tugged upward, and he takes another step up, but you’re too fluttery to notice.

“2. Do you already like someone?”

You shake your head. 

“3. Are you free this Saturday?”

He is one step away from you, but his height made it close enough to feel the heat from your blushing cheeks. You shake your head again. 

“4. Can I take you on a bowling date?”

You can feel your heart explode. He clasps your hands as soon as you squeak out a “Yes,” and the two of you head down the stairs together. 

Christmas is indeed a magical season. After all, who would have thought that your first date would be at the bowling alley you reserved a week ago as a Secret Santa? 

thank you for reading; likes and reblogs are highly appreciated; for more of my cliché, click here!

To support me on Ko-Fi, click here!  

[sillyrabbit81]

Hi, can you please write something about Sy finding out his girlfriend has a box of everything that reminds her of him, like pictures, the ticket of the first movie they saw together, the ticket of the coffee shop from where they first met, a picture of the first time he came back from deployment, all his letters, the first flower he gave her and all those things?

Hi Anon. Thanks for the prompt, it was fun! I did combine the prompt with another from the Prompt Fairy:

PROMPT FAIRY back again with a new challenge.

"Moving day"

Good luck!

Summary: Sy helps you to pack your stuff to move into his house. He finds your box of memories and it brings up an unexpected question.

Pairing: Captain Syverson x Female Reader

Word Count: approx 1k

Warnings: Fluff to angst to smut, sex (p in v)

Authors note: Thanks to @amberangel112 for her beta read. And thanks to @diegos-butt for our chat about this story, you were lovely to chat to 🙏

Masterlist

Moving Day

You weren’t surprised when Sy asked you to move in with him days after he came back from his second deployment. What you were surprised at was the speed at which he moved once you said yes. He cleaned out his spare room where he kept his gym equipment telling you that was your space now, a place for your books, records and other treasures while he moved his equipment to his garage. He cleaned out half his closet and draws, and some shelves in his lounge room and bathroom, all to make sure you had enough room for your things.

Within a week he was ready for you and you had barely started packing. He came over and helped you, laughing as you went through your years of acquired knickknacks and junk. He laughed at your high school year book, your old college assignments, the half-finished craft projects you had attempted over the years and given up on.

You were packing up your closet, and Sy was pulling down the old shoe boxes that littered the top shelf when one surprisingly heavy one slipped from his grasp. You watched as he got on his haunches and started putting what may have been seen as a random assortment of junk back in the box until he noticed the letters tied with ribbon.

He sat on his ass then, legs crossed in front of him, and you saw him smile as he removed an envelope from the bundle and pulled the letter out.

He started reading, grinning as he did and said, “Jesus, Darlin’, I don’t know how you put up with me in these letters. I sound like a nine-year-old girl writing to their pen pal for the first time.”

You sat beside him and pulled another one out, handing it to him. “You got better at it,” you said.

It was your favourite, written towards the end of his first deployment when he first signed off with the words, “I love you.” You leaned your head on him, reading the contents you know by heart over his shoulder.

He put his arm around you and he chuckled, “I suppose I did.” He looked at the rest of the scattered memorabilia. “What else you got here?”

You picked up a red rose, dried and pressed. “Remember giving me that?” you asked.

“From my Momma’s rose bush,” he laughed. “She was mighty pissed off with me when she saw I had cut it off.”

You picked up the loyalty card of the coffee shop you used to go to, the place you had first met. “You never used this?” he asked. “Damn, I kept going back and getting that awful coffee every day for two weeks hoping to see you again.”

He picked up the movie ticket stub from your first date, the road map you used on your trip to Austin, and flipped through the numerous loose pictures of the two of you.

“You kept all of this Darlin’?”

“Yeah, helps me feel close to you when you’re away,” you said.

Sy was quiet as he carefully packed everything away into the shoe box. It was filled to the brim, nearly overflowing and the lid didn’t sit right.

“When we get to my place, how about I give you a box from my size 13’s?”

“Yeah I may need it,” you said, your heart sinking. You’ve been with Sy through two deployments, you know there’s going to be a third and fourth and maybe more. If he even makes it home to you.

You felt Sy’s hand on your neck, and he used his thumb to lift your chin. “I shouldn’t have asked you to move in with me,” he said in a low voice. “I shoulda asked you to marry me.”

Grinning you said, “Woulda, shoulda, coulda, Sy.”

He smiled but didn’t laugh, “How ‘bout it Darlin’?”

“Wait, you’re serious,” you said, surprised.

Sy brought you onto his lap, lifting your leg over his. Cupping your cheeks, he kissed you.

“Deadly serious,” he said. “I don’t think I could leave you again without knowin’ I was coming home to you as my wife.” Tears welled in your eyes. The reality of his job hit you in the chest again, taking your breath away, just as it did every time. “I don’t have a ring or anything, but I’ll get one. I just need to know you’ll say yes.”

You didn’t even need to think about it, you knew he was the man you wanted to marry the moment you saw him came back from his first deployment.

“Of course I will, Sy.”

You saw the relief on his face as you said yes. He smiled, then his brows furrowed, then he smiled again, then he got that look, that look that made your knees weak and your heart rate increase.

“I love you,” he growled.

He didn’t give you a chance to respond as his mouth covered yours. His hand went to your neck, the other wrapped around your waist, and he drew you closer and closer. His kiss was rough and needy, dominating yet desperate, like he wanted to consume you, his hunger too strong.

You slid your hands under his shirt, your mouth catching his groans as your nails grip his back. Sy’s hands started clawing and your leggings, pulling them off one leg. You undid his belt at the same time, opening his jeans. He lifted both you and his ass off the floor and pushed his pants down his thighs. It was primal, uncomfortable, unromantic on the floor of your closet, but neither of you cared, the urge to feel each other was too much.

Without breaking your kisses, he entered you, filling you completely. It didn’t matter that it was on the floor, empty boxes all around, clothes piled up high ready to be packed. You both felt the need too intensely to even contemplate going somewhere more comfortable. The only comfort you needed was in each other’s arms.

Tag List 1

@henryobsessed @omgkatinka @legendarywizarddetective @posiemax @nostalgicb-txh @moonlacebeam @anitababi @agniavateira @blakerogue @shadesofarrogance @mansaaay @stxlemate @wheretheriversrunintothesea @amberangel112 @madbaddic7ed @eldarwen333 @wolvesandhoundshowltogether @summersong69 @littlefreya @littlebirdofrivia @luclittlepond @myloveforhenrycavill @mary-ann84 @tellingyouastory @beck07990 @zealoushound @sofiebstar @sweetlybigdragonn @bloodyinspiredfuck @marantha @diegos-butt @greensleeves888 @endofalldays01 @justaboringadult @ysmmsy @offroadinjandals @littlewrenofrivia @pussyverson @foxyjwls007 @kebabgirl67

[arialerendeair]

i would love any fic about alec saving magnus's life ❤🥺🥺🥺🙏🙏🙏

SHUT UP I AM SUCH A SUCKER FOR HURT/COMFORT AND THIS IS THE KINDA STUFF THAT REALLY JUST HITS ME SO HARD IN THE BEST WAYS UGH.

THERE IS A HAPPY ENDING - BUT YOU MIGHT NEED TISSUES ON THE WAY.

~!~!~

They'd talked about it once.

Only once.

The phone call.

It was a risk of both their jobs. One that they were always willing to take, a responsibility they had taken on. That didn't make the conversation about it any easier, and both of them were aching once they were finished.

But in the worst case scenario, they would do everything in their power to be there. No matter what happened, they would.

--

When Alec's phone rang, he was in the middle of crossing out the fourth instance of the word fuck in his parabatai's latest report on the patrol from two nights previous that had put more than six shadowhunters into the infirmary. So when he picked it up with a curt, "Lightwood-Bane," he wasn't expecting the other person to stay on the phone long.

"Alec."

Catarina's voice was anguished and the fear there froze Alec. He dropped his pen, his blood going ice cold as he clenched his eyes shut. He swallowed and grabbed his jacket, blade and stele, racing out of his office, walking as fast as he could without causing a panic through the Institute, his phone held to his ear. "Portal outside the Institute," he ordered, listening to Catarina's shaky breaths.

The portal swirled to life barely a foot from him and Alec was through it in seconds, prepared for anything as he hung up his phone. He didn't expect to see Magnus, kneeling next to four children, the veins on his arms black, drawing black magic out of them and into himself. Alec tightened his hand on the hilt of his blade before he let it go and turned to Catarina.

"He's taking the poison out of them and into himself. There's no other way to get it out of them," Catarina explained, her voice soft. "I'd be helping him but…"

"But I told you no," Magnus snarled, tears tracking down his cheeks. His hands shook as he held them out over the four children who hadn't deserved this, who didn't deserve to have their lives end so early and so painfully. "I won't do that to Madzie."

Distantly, Alec heard Catarina make an angry noise that was part sob and knelt behind Magnus', reaching out to stretch his arms over Magnus', his hands on top of his, pressing a soft kiss to Magnus' neck, helping to steady him. "I've got you," Alec whispered, his voice soft. "I love you."

Magnus choked on a sob. "I can't stop the spell now that I've started it," he whispered.

"I understand," Alec said, his voice soft. "How long is it going to take?"

Magnus felt the tears runing down his cheeks at the whisper into his neck. "I'm not sure. Maybe twenty minutes?"

"Okay," Alec said, nuzzling into Magnus' neck. "I love you."

Magnus sucked in a hard breath, his chest aching under the weight of the power that he was using to press into the kids. "I love you too." When Alec didn't say anything, just pressed in closer to him, he blinked hard against the tears. "You aren't angry with me."

"No," Alec said, keeping his voice calm. Magnus needed him to be calm right now. "You wouldn't be who you are if you didn't give everything you could to protect someone. Especially children." He paused before continuing. "You've caught who did this to them?"

"Banished to the deepest depths of hell," Magnus snarled, even as he watched more of the black magic sink into his hands. His fingers were almost entirely black now, the poison lethal. He was glad that Alec didn't flinch away. "He will pay every day for what he did to them."

"Good." Alec took a deep breath and nuzzled into Magnus' neck again. "Take my strength if you need it."

Magnus swallowed. "Alec, I can't-"

"Magnus," Alec said, his voice firming. "I can feel how tired you are. Take my strength if you need it."

Magnus closed his eyes and sagged back into Alec, nodding carefully. "All right, I will."

"Good," Alec said with a nod. "Will it poison me?"

Magnus swallowed hard. "I won't let it." Even now, he could feel his magic reaching for the stores that Alec kept locked tightly away except when they were like this. Under the touch of his magic, Alec's soul bloomed like a flower and flooded him with magic, making him cry harder.

"I'm sorry," Magnus whispered, clenching his eyes shut. "Not, not for-"

"Shhh," Alec soothed, kissing Magnus' neck again. "You don't need to apologize. I understand. It's okay, Magnus. It's okay. I'm here, I love you, and I'm not going to leave. I'll hold you in place until the spell is done." Distantly, Alec heard Catarina sob again and was glad that he'd guessed right about that particular aspect of this spell. "You're okay."

Magnus let out a small noise and pressed closer, back against Alec. "I'm still sorry. We should have had so much more time, Alexander. So much more. This isn't-"

"We have time right now," Alec corrected, his voice soft. "It's just me here, Magnus." He closed his eyes and let out a small, shaky breath. "It's going to be okay, I've got you. You can tell me anything you want."

"I can't fit a lifetime in a matter of minutes!" Magnus snarled, tears burning his eyes. This was so unfair. He wouldn't take back casting the spell, not to save the lives of the kids beneath his hands, but it was robbing a life from him that he hadn't wanted to give up like this.

Alec hummed quietly. "I understand." He looked down at Magnus' hands and threaded their fingers together, holding Magnus' hands still, watching as his own hands started to go faintly black from the power that Magnus was drawing from him. "I think I would have brought kids up to you next year. How I wanted them. Whether warlock, or shadowhunter, both of our worlds, there are always children who need families. Would you have wanted that?"

Magnus bit down a quiet, keening whine. "Yes," he whispered. "Oh, yes, Alec. I think I would have made a terrible father, but-"

"No," Alec corrected, kissing Magnus' neck. "You would have been a magnificent father," he said. "You would have spoiled our kids absolutely rotten, and they would have been fashionistas in their own right."

Against his will, Magnus laughed, smiling faintly. "They'd look so good in little suits or dresses, wouldn't they?"

"As though you'd let them be anything else," Alec said, smiling. "Our house would be even more chaos than it already is, and we would love it every single day." He tightened his arms around Magnus when there was a whimper of pain and he felt the draw on his magic get stronger. The black lines were racing up his arms now.

"What else?" Magnus whispered, almost afraid to ask.

Alec let out a slow breath. "I had plans for a second honeymoon, since we never got to properly take our first, on our ten year anniversary." He smiled into Magnus' neck. "I'd planned to take a full month off and you could take us wherever you wanted in the world and we could get good and lost, as you are always so fond of saying."

"That sounds amazing." Magnus swallowed and watched the kids under him start to breathe easier at last, their magical signatures starting to light up now that they weren't fighting off the cursed poison that had been in their veins. "I would have taken you anywhere and everywhere you ever wanted."

Alec fell silent, breathing slowly against his neck and Magnus managed a quiet laugh before admitting. "There's still so much sex magic I wanted to teach you."

Alec's eyes snapped open and he laughed through the tears. "Magnus!"

"What, it's the truth!" Magnus shot back. "Besides, you like broadening your horizons. Always enjoyed yourself, if I'm not mistaken." He closed his eyes and let out a small breath. "I wanted to take you to get a proper bespoke suit. See one precisely tailored for you, not just because I fucked around with magic."

Alec hummed. "That sounds interesting. What color would you see me in?"

"I'd have a tux made for you, first," Magnus answered, feeling Alec laugh against his neck. His eyesight was starting to get a little blurry, so he closed his eyes. "Then I'd have a few suits made for you for work. Nice dark colors, like you prefer. A faint pinstripe, because I think it would look better than you believe. Oxfords, not brogues, of course."

"Always fashion forward," Alec teased.

"They're timeless, Alexander. Don't mock a good shoe," Magnus quipped.

"I always mock your shoes, they look painful."

Magnus laughed again and shook his head. He felt the poison sink deeper into him and his heart make a stutter step under the weight, making him grunt. "I'm glad you're here," he whispered. "I knew you'd come, but. It's… I'm glad you're here."

"Me too," Alec whispered, keeping his voice just as soft. "Are you scared?"

Magnus nodded, his throat tightening, though he didn't know if that was from the poison or Alec's question.

"I'll stay here until it's done," Alec promised. "I'm not going to let go. And the last thing you're going to hear is me whispering how much I love you, and that's never going to change." He took another slow breath. "Then, we're going to take those four kids whose lives you saved, and I'm going to take them home. I'm going to take care of them, because that's what you'd want to do."

Magnus nodded again, swallowing hard.

"Pull more magic," Alec insisted softly. "I've got plenty more, and you need it. I want to be here for you."

Those words alone made him cry harder, but Magnus felt his magic reach out for Alec, nestling deeper into him, as deep as he'd gone that very first time with Luke, until his heartbeat was sync'd with Alec. "I love you," he whispered through the tears.

"I love you too, Magnus. I love you so much. I'm going to spend the rest of my life loving you. Never doubt that for a second. I love you. I love you," Alec repeated, tightening his hold as Magnus started to sway, steadying him. The poison was almost entirely out of the kids now, which meant they didn't have much longer.

"Alec, I…" Magnus' throat tightened and he clenched down on Alec's hands, glad that Alec steadied him. "Love, love, love y-y…"

"Shhh," Alec soothed again, burying his face near Magnus' ear. "I love you, Magnus. I'm right here. I love you. I love you."

All Magnus could hear, all Magnus could feel, was Alec, and the burn of the poison.

"I love you, Magnus."

"You hear me, I love you."

"I'm going to love you forever."

Magnus felt himself start to drift, heard the shouts int he distance. He was so tired.

"I love you."

"I have you Magnus. It's okay love."

"I love you."

"I love you."

"I love you, Magnus Lightwood-Bane."

"It's okay, Magnus. It's okay to let go. I love you. I have you."

"I love…"

"…..Magnus…."

When the world went silent, one last tear fell down his cheek before Magnus let go.

--

--

"Catarina?" Alec asked, carefully keeping Magnus supported. He swallowed, impossibly hard. Magnus had gone limp, but…

"Is he…?" Catarina couldn't make herself finish the words.

Alec's eyes darted frantically between the kids and Magnus' hands. There was no more magic going between them. "Catarina," Alec repeated, firming his voice so he got her attention properly. "The spell is done, right?"

Catarina frowned. "What…" She stepped forward and nodded. "Yes, but-"

"Magnus has a pulse," Alec said, looking up at her from where he was still pressed up against every inch of Magnus. "It's slow. He's unconscious. But he has a pulse."

In an instant, Catarina was kneeling between both of them, flying over Magnus. Her breath caught and she lifted her eyes to Alec's. "It's you."

Alec swallowed. "Explain. Is he-"

"The poison doesn't affect you. Look." She pointed to the marks on his hands that were already starting to fade. "That poison has to go somewhere, but it's being... fuck if I had to guess your angelic magic is destroying it. By making it cursed, it's become directly counterable by your blood."

"Right," Alec said, his voice hoarse as he stared at her. "You need to give Magnus as much of my energy as possible without killing me to burn the poison out of him, and you need to call Jace."

Catarina frowned. "Your parabatai?"

"Yeah," Alec said. "He's going to keep you juiced up, and he's going to tell you how close is too close after I pass out." He held onto Magnus tighter, and if he focused, he could feel the faintest of tugs from Magnus' magic still. "Hold on, love, hold on."

--

Magnus had never expected to open his eyes again after he closed them.

But opening them to the sight of the Institute infirmary, Alexander in the bed beside him, and Jace, looking tired in casual clothes next to the bed was not what he expected to see.

Magnus frowned and stared at blondie, but Jace was engrossed in his book until he managed to flap an arm enough to shift the blankets and draw his attention.

Jace's eyes widened. "Oh shit, you're awake. Here, hold on."

Magnus leaned in and took a few sips from the straw that was held out to him and relaxed back in the pillow, looking from blondie to Alec, who was resting beside him peacefully. A few more blinks and he realized that Alec was still holding his hand.

"Yeah, Alec was the only thing keeping you alive for a while there, so we had to keep you two as close as possible," Jace said. "Turns out nephilim are immune to that poison - so when he started taking that into himself, it was less poison you absorbed. He got enough, early enough, that finishing the spell didn't kill you, and we got you back here."

Magnus' eyes widened and he looked down at Alec. "He's, he's-"

Jace smiled and reached out to give Magnus' arm a squeeze. "He's fine. Bone fucking tired and needs to sleep for a week it feels like, but trust me, if he was in a bad way, I wouldn't be walking around grinning."

That was a good point and Magnus acknowledged it with a nod, scooting closer to Alec to nuzzle into his shoulder. "He'll wake up soon?"

"He's awake now, you're loud, Jace," Alec said grumpily, turning his back on his laughing parabatai to face Magnus. He relaxed at the sight of golden eyes and smiled. "I've been awake a few times. You've been out for two days. That's how long it took to get all the poison out of you and into me."

Magnus let out a shaky breath. "He's okay?"

"You're both okay," Jace said. He tapped a hand on his jaw. "Catarina said something about your magical energies being permanently intertwined due to how much magic you were sharing, but Alec feels fine, still has his runes and your magic is coming back, so that sounds like wins across the board and we'll figure the rest out later."

Magnus felt his heart skip several painful, agonizing beats. He'd heard of that happening with other magical beings and it meant-

"Stop panicking," Alec said softly, staring at Magnus. "Jace, give us a few minutes and stand guard?"

"You got it!" Jace said, pushing himself up and out of the chair.

Magnus swallowed hard. "Alec-"

"I know," Alec interrupted. "Catarina already told me." He watched Magnus' expression crumble and scooted closer. "You know, I left one thing out of our future, Magnus."

The statement threw him off and he frowned. "You did?" Magnus whispered.

"Yeah. Probably the most important one, now." Alec cleared his throat and smiled. "Find a way to stay with my husband forever. It was top of the list, but according to Catarina, sounds like I can cross that one off."

Magnus' breath caught. "Wh, what?"

Alec grinned and pressed their foreheads together. "Now you're stuck with me. How about that?"

Magnus reached out and wrapped his arm around Alec, pressing in as close as he could get, swallowing down another hiccuping sob. "Sounds, fuck, sounds perfect, Alexander."

[ragingbookdragon]

Batsis & Green Lantern, Sittin’ In A Tree. K-I-S-S-I-N–Wait, Is That Our Sister? PT. 2

Kyle Rayner x Batsis One-Shot

Word Count: 3.3K Warnings: NSFW (Slightly), Explicit Language Tags: @starflyer-104

Author's Note: Hi I finished this! Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

Oddly enough, she didn’t make Kyle do anything other than design the first month he was at Wayne Manor. And she was true to her word. He had an entire room to himself, and the room was as big as his whole apartment, bigger if he was honest; and that wasn’t all—he had every instrument an artist could ever want, even some of the newest drawing tablets and pens that hadn’t even come out yet. Limited edition first pick that only someone like her could get her hands on by merely flashing that pretty smile and her last name of “Wayne”. It was a graphic artists dream come alive, and Kyle was afraid that he was going to wake up from it that he never once tried to pinch himself to see if it was a dream or not.

Surprisingly enough though, (Y/N) was being awfully nice to him too. She’d taken him shopping a bunch of times, a whole new wardrobe and even thrown in a new phone and laptop. Of course, Kyle wasn’t a fool and immediately confronted her about using her purchases to hold it over him. That was the one instance in which she wasn’t awfully nice because she sucker-punched him and told him to never call her a manipulator ever again. That she had never once used a purchase to force someone into something—she was a bitch but she wasn’t that kind of bitch.

He even questioned Jason about it once they got back to the manor and his friend cackled at the nice shiner he’d received. (Y/N) doesn’t buy things for people to make them do what she wants. She buys things for people because that’s how she shows she’s fond of them. Honestly, if she buys you what you want, especially if you ask for it, that’s how you know she thinks you’re a friend of hers. Just let her spoil you for a while, Rayner. You’ll miss it when you have to go back to NYC.

Kyle relented then, instead of fighting her on paying for everything, he watched her. Watched her when he asked for something. Just for a split second she’d get a look of honest surprise in her eyes before that smirk crossed her lips and she’d toss it in the basket before picking up her own needs. He found it almost endearing, the way she acted, like she wasn’t expecting him to ask for anything. And Kyle especially liked that look in her eyes. It made his heart beat a little faster when she gazed at him with those big eyes.

And while he did love that look, it only lasted for one month. Hell had come to the manor, and Kyle was smack in the middle of it.

***

“Good morning family!” she greeted cheerfully, placing her hands on Kyle’s shoulders. She received various replies, some happy, some tired, and Kyle gave his own.

“Morning, (Y/N). You seem happy.” He cut into the buttery waffle and started bringing the fork to his mouth when she grabbed his hand and gently but firmly, took the utensil into her mouth. Kyle couldn’t help but go slack jawed as she chewed and swallowed, offering him a smirk.

“I’m sorry,” she purred. “Did you want that?” His mouth opened and closed, and she pushed the plate forward, replacing it with a tall smoothie shaker that was a bright, sickly green.

“Uh…” he started, looking between the shaker and her. “What’s that?”

(Y/N) nodded at it. “That’s your breakfast for this morning.” She flipped the cap open. “It’s got spinach, kale, bananas, vanilla flavored protein powder, pineapple, mint leaves and spirulina.” She grinned. “It’s got all the protein and greens you need for the start of this wonderful day.”

“I don’t even know what spirulina is.” Kyle remarked.

“Blue-green algae super-food.” (Y/N) nodded at it. “From now on you’re going to drink smoothies every morning and then we’re going to weight train and run every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.”

Her family started snickering around the table and Kyle swallowed thickly daring to ask, “And Tuesdays and Thursdays?”

She grinned wickedly at him. “Combat, Rayner.” Handing him the shake, she quipped, “Drink up me hearties.”

“Yo ho.” Kyle whimpered when he sniffed it and gagged.

***

“C’mon weakling,” she nagged. “You’ve barely gotten through the second set. Don’t tell me you’re already tired.”

Kyle groaned as he pushed the weighted bar up, holding it for a second before letting it fall. “I told you I can bench press one-hundred. You put one-twenty on this bar,” he griped through gritted teeth.

(Y/N) smirked. “Feel that pain though? It’s weakness leaving your body.” She grabbed the bar with one hand, pulling it up and onto the hold; she grinned as Kyle panted, chest heaving up and down with every sharp intake of breath.

“I—don’t know—how you do this—everyday.” He gasped and she snorted.

“No pain, no gain, Rayner.” She walked around him, and Kyle was too weak to keep his eyes off her as she did. “Oh, I can’t wait for tomorrow,” she cooed, throwing a leg over his hips, lowering onto his thighs.

Kyle’s throat tightened and he gazed at her as she leaned forward, propping her elbows on his chest, staring into his eyes. “Pretty close there,” he panted and (Y/N) smiled.

“Closer the better in my opinion.” Her eyes narrowed bemusedly. “From here I can get a good view of your form.” She pulled away. “You’re using your lower back to push strength into your arms. This time, use your chest and shoulders. Deep breath when you push up, breathe out when you lower, okay?”

He nodded, grabbing the bar again. “What set now?”

“Three. Five reps.” (Y/N) pressed a hand to his abdomen. “Core muscles tight. Glutes tight. Keep the stability and use your upper body muscles alright?”

“Got it.” He said, pulling the bar off and she felt his pelvis start to push upwards and she splayed her fingers.

“Chest, Kyle. Not your hips.” He grunted, trying harder, and she put all her weight onto his hips, keeping them pressed down to the bench. It showed in his form as he improved almost instantaneously. “Nice job,” she murmured. “Keep going.”

He got to the fifth rep, starting to go up, when she purred, “Your arms are very strong, Kyle. I wonder just how strong.”

Something in her voice made his heart stutter and he forgot momentarily what he was doing. The bar shifted downwards, and he gasped as it came down at him; (Y/N) reached out, quick as lightning and grabbed it with both hands, standing from his legs to put the bar back.

She looked down at him, concern in her eyes. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he breathed. “Sorry…lost my grip.” (Y/N) nodded and shimmied away, holding out a hand to him. “Thanks,” he said, letting her pull him up.

“Take five and go get some water, alright?”

He wanted to shake his head, tell her no, that he could keep going, but he thought against it and started for the water fountain in the corner. As he bent over, he happened to look back at her, seeing her bent over, stretching her legs. Heat pooled low in his gut, and he groaned, turning his eyes away.

“Jesus Christ,” he hissed. “Get a grip.”

“Let’s go, Rayner!” she called out behind him. “We’ve got two miles to run!”

Kyle let his head hand and he groaned again.

***

Compared to the day before, getting his ass kicked wasn’t as bad as it had seemed. That being said, (Y/N) wasn’t pulling her punches with him and he hadn’t managed to lay a single hit on her an hour in.

He gasped as she dropped him onto his back and he laid flat, gazing at the ceiling before him; she leaned over him, a cocky smirk on her face. “Need a break?”

“I’m not a novice in hand to hand. I trained with J’onn J’onnz for a while.” He countered with a glare and surprisingly, she nodded, rather impressed.

“I can tell in your form. You counter like he does.” (Y/N) bent down and gently swept away the sweaty hair from his forehead. “You’re learning pretty quick though, if I do say so myself.”

Kyle’s face lit up. “Really? You think—”

“But I can see that it takes you getting your ass handed to you over and over again before the lesson sinks in.”

His face pinched and he griped, “I should’ve seen that coming.”

(Y/N) snorted and patted his head, mocking, “You’re learning.” She smiled. “Now get up. You’ve rested long enough.”

“UGHHH!” he groaned, climbing to his feet.

***

On the third month and final month of the project, Kyle noticed a major improvement in himself. Not only had he lost a few of those extra pounds from snacking, toning all over his body, he’d also managed to expand his stamina a great deal. (Y/N) had congratulated him when he managed to run the various miles without even breaking a sweat.

The designs had come in well too, and Kyle honestly had more money than he knew what to do with. Well, rent and utilities were his most prominent factor, but even then, the money he’d have left over would last him a long time. He almost felt sad when they got to the final week of the project, no longer needing drawings, he was mostly there to make sure the designs were made correctly and with good materials.

(Y/N)’d even given him one of the first sets they produced and even if he was used to seeing his drawings published, it was another thing to see his name on the tag with it. It made him giddy, and he didn’t know how to rope that in with the continued nagging in the back of his brain. That it was all ending in a week. No more breakfast being made, no more laundry done, no more seeing his friends all the time and patrolling with them…and no more (Y/N) constantly.

When he thought about that, Kyle’s chest started to tighten, heart starting to hurt a lot more than he wanted to admit. And he knew why—somewhere along the lines of (Y/N)’s continual ass-kicking and training, he’d fallen in love with her. With her crude attitude and cocky smirks, her proud demeanor and skill, her beauty and the occasional kindness she showed to people, but most importantly, the love she showed for her family.

Most people saw an arrogant bitch who could school people six ways from Sunday both verbally and physically, but what they didn’t see, was the care she paid to those she loved most. To Dick’s anger issues, to Jason’s frequent regrets, to Tim’s consistent depression, to Cassandra’s ever-evolving education, to Damian’s rapid growth, to her father’s hurting soul—she cared so deeply for them, would give anything for them, even her life if it meant. And that made Kyle want to fall at her feet and worship her.

That this beautiful woman who allowed people to talk about her and never cared to correct, was the greatest woman alive, the most loving, the most caring. And she was hard, she was, but her love was tough and those that received it, her siblings and her closest friends, they knew she loved them completely. Kyle knew she cared for him. He only hoped that she wanted more.

***

The production party had been held in France and Kyle had never seen so many elites in one spot that he wasn’t sure how to even drink from his champagne chute correctly. Luckily, (Y/N) had stayed with him all night, tucking herself in his side and covering when he faltered in front of someone who didn’t speak English. And God, there was something very sexy about the way her lips moved when she spoke fluent French.

The party lasted well into the night and by the time they got back to the penthouse, he was dead on his feet. The siblings had dispersed to their rooms and (Y/N) stayed up a bit to speak with Alfred and Bruce over the phone. Kyle lingered around the kitchen with her and when she hung up, she sighed heavily, pulling out the dangling golden earrings and removing the chunky diamond necklace that probably costed more than Kyle did.

Her eyes met his and she smiled tiredly. “Did you have fun tonight?”

“I did,” he said happily. “It was…interesting to see what your life is like.” He chuckled. “Well, your day life that is.”

(Y/N) huffed a laugh and he wandered around the island, daring enough to reach up and grab her shoulders, digging his thumbs into her muscles. She groaned and hung her head a bit.

“Feel good?” he questioned, and she nodded.

“I don’t typically wear heels unless it’s for a party and I remember why.” Sighing, she pulled away from his arms and he just barely managed to keep the sadness from crossing his face as she turned. “What about you? Are you okay?”

Kyle shrugged. “Feel like I could sleep for a few days straight, but isn’t that how we all work?”

(Y/N) snorted, then sighed wistfully. “I almost don’t want this night to end.”

“How come?” he asked, and she met his gaze.

“I like seeing you flounder like a fish in front of socialites.” He rolled his eyes and she laughed, shoving him lightly. “I’m joking.” She rested her hand on his shoulder. “It’s been fun having around the manor. I know Dick and Jason have enjoyed hanging out with you.” She smiled and pulled away. “You should come back around after tomorrow.”

(Y/N) bypassed him and started towards her room when he spun and called her. “(Y/N).” she stopped and looked at him, waiting, expecting, and Kyle decided to lay his cards to her, letting her decide. “Spend the night with me.”

For a moment, she was surprised, honest to God surprised, then she smiled sweetly, something he wasn’t really used to, and she murmured, “Come with me.”

And Kyle barely managed to keep himself from tripping over his own feet as he hurried after her.

***

“Shut the door behind you,” she said, and he knew that just from the tone of her voice that she was the one who held the power—not that he cared, all he wanted was her. He felt his heart lurch as the door closed and she motioned him to come behind her. “Mind unzipping me?”

Kyle swallowed thickly as he reached up and grasped the gold zipper, gently tugging it down to where it stopped just above her rear. He also happened to notice that she wasn’t wearing any undergarments and he cursed under his breath. “Fuck, (Y/N).”

She grinned and with one hand undid the buttons behind her neck, then reached back, pulling his hands until his palms were pressed to her bare skin. “Be a dear and slip my dress off for me, hmm?” she leaned back into his hands. “Shouldn’t be too hard now.”

Before Kyle knew what he was doing, his hands were moving underneath the fabric of her dress, around her waist and up her chest, gently grabbing at the flesh of her breasts. (Y/N) gasped, a sound so saccharine in his ears, and leaned her head back on his shoulder.

“Kyle,” she whispered and with his pointer fingers, circled her nipples. Another gasp escaped her as she arched into his touch and she turned her head to the underside of his jaw, sucking the skin at his neck.

“(Y/N),” he groaned, rubbing up against her rear. “Baby...”

She was pushing away from him then, much to his dismay and she spun around, grasping at his suit. “Take your clothes off. All of them. Now.”

All that commanding she was doing was shooting straight to his cock and he obeyed immediately, not even caring about the dress shirt as he ripped it open, the buttons scattering across the carpet. He’d just gotten to his belt when he saw (Y/N) pull down her dress and he almost collapsed on his weak knees when her body came into full view.

For three whole months he’d been slowly driven insane by her tight clothes, guiltily imagining what she looked like underneath during the night, more often than not, relieving the urge.

She smirked and walked up to him, digging her fingers into the top of his pants and turned, pulling him along. They reached the beg and she yanked, sending him backwards onto the bed with a grunt, and then she was climbing atop him.

“I thought you wanted—” he gasped when she grabbed him through his pants. “I thought you wanted me to be naked.”

(Y/N) winked and squeezed him. “I changed my mind.” Leaning close, she let her lips hover above his. “I wanna see how needy I can get you.”

Kyle glared at her and surged forward, sealing her lips in a kiss before he wrapped an arm around her waist, tipping them over. She groaned into their kiss and wrapped her legs around waist. He let his free hand roam her body, caressing her side, squeezing her hip, slipping beneath her leg to grab at the flesh of her thigh. Each grasp, each pinch, each touch had her gasping and Kyle rocked against her, moaning under his breath.

Her fingers busied themselves with his belt and when she got it open, she unbuttoned his pants, and pushed them down a bit. Kyle pulled back to help but the second his hands left her body, he knew he made a mistake because she locked her ankles and placed her hands on his shoulders, shoving back. His back hit the bed and she was on top of him again, this time pinning his hands beside his head.

“Bad boy,” she admonished. “You weren’t supposed to move.”

“Sorry,” he retorted, but he wasn’t. Not in the slightest. “Couldn’t help myself.” He accentuated his point with a deep roll of his hips, and she grip briefly weakened as she ground herself down on him.

“You’re going to help yourself.” She warned, eyes devouring him where he lay. “Every movement is fifteen minutes added to how long I’m going to tease you.”

Kyle grinned. “Yes ma’am.”

(Y/N) matched his grin and before he could even see her move, she had a pillow from the top of the bed placed on his chest, long side up, enough to cover her from sight.

“What are you—” The door opened, and he tipped his head back on the mattress, seeing Dick and Jason gaping at them from the doorway.

For a solid moment, they all stared at one another, too shocked to say a word, then Dick and Jason were letting out the girliest screams Kyle had ever heard them make and they slammed the door shut.

(Y/N) sighed heavily and pressed her face into the pillow. “Lovely. Now we’re going to be all over the group chats.”

Kyle blinked, looking up at her. “You think so?”

“I know so.” She looked at him. “I knew I should’ve booked a penthouse across from this one.” (Y/N) started crawling off him when he reached out and grabbed her hips, keeping her in place; she cocked a brow. “Really? Your mood’s not killed?”

A flash of green appeared in her vision, then the door locked, and he smirked at her. “Nothing can kill my mood for you.” He squeezed her tightly. “Is yours?”

“Not in the slightest.” She reached down and traced the smirk on his lips. “Do me a favor though.”

“Anything,” Kyle agreed, and she grinned wickedly.

“Call me ma’am again.”

[parkersbliss]

Fourteen | K. Brekker

pairing: kaz brekker x female reader

warnings: blood, death, angst, torture(?), crooked kingdom spoilers

wc; 2.5K

synopsis: some things are better left unsaid. you learned that the hard way.

prompts: 003: I’ll never love you 010: I just want the pain to stop 017: “Just tell me that you love me! Please…”

a/n: I uh… sorry in advance? I just read a heartbreaking story before this so now there’s this

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

—

Decisions, decisions.

They weren’t easy to make, but they had to be.

It was one or nothing.

Make a choice, or you get neither.

Perhaps, not making a choice is better in this case, but you already know what the decision is.

It’s clear in your mind, and though you don’t want it to be, you’re not naive.

The world was cruel. It didn’t care for mercy.

Mercy was a luxury in Ketterdam. It was a luxury no one could afford.

Most things were unaffordable in Ketterdam, but you stayed anyway. You could leave, could’ve. Past tense. It was too late now.

And yet, you didn’t.

You stayed for the boy in the coat with a troubled past. You stayed for the hope.

Of course, you paid the price now. Mercy was expensive enough, but hope… hope simply didn’t exist. Surviving Ketterdam was a matter of kill or be killed, which is not an exaggeration. Knives are at your throat every day, and if you don’t make the choice to grab them and put them in the enemy's eyes, then you don’t survive to see the next blood bath.

For some people, that might be a relief, but others had unfinished business. The people in Ketterdam were driven by two things: money and revenge.

Both sweet and hard to retrieve, but to some, it was worth it. Every casualty was worth it if it meant getting what they wanted.

“Be ruthless, and don’t let anyone tell you what you can and can’t do.”

Even now, you could still hear his voice in your head. At the time, it was good advice. You hadn’t expected it to be used against you.

“You should have no attachment to anything, and especially anyone. You have to be willing to let them go.”

That should’ve been the first sign. You had regarded his words with a grain of salt. You didn’t realize the meaning behind them because you thought he could learn to grow out of it. He didn’t really mean that.

Everyone says things they don’t mean in an attempt to seem stronger.

Everyone was lying.

Lies, lies, lies.

Oh, how everyone lied.

Just like how Kaz lied. He did that a lot, but never in a way that would hurt any of his crows. At least, you had thought.

“It’s a simple plan,” Kaz said, laying out the blueprints on the table. “Jesper, you will come in from this entrance, Inej and (Y/N), the roof, and I will come through the back.”

It was just the three of you.

Matthias… you didn’t speak of him. It was too sensitive of a topic. Well, it had been for Nina, at least, but then she left to return home to Ravka.

And there wasn’t a need to not speak of it, but you had all gotten used to it. Some things were better left unsaid.

Wylan was out on business, though he didn’t speak of what. Inej was often gone to traversing the seas. When she returned home, Kaz always planned the biggest heists. She was the best one here.

Jesper was still Jesper, young as ever, but that’s the plus of being Grisha. Most days, he was with Wylan, salvaging what time they had left.

Though it was plenty.

Which left you with Kaz a lot of the time. It wasn’t a bad thing, but spending too much time with someone is dangerous.

But you were drawn to him like that of a moth to the flame. Maybe it was an effort to try and fix his broken parts because you couldn’t fix your own.

You would learn soon enough Kaz didn’t want to be fixed. There was only one person that could do that.

It wasn’t you.

It never would be.

“What about the guards?” Jesper inquired, leaning against the polished wood.

“Two shots is all you’ll need. He doesn’t keep it heavily guarded,” Kaz replied.

“What if there are more?” You asked. “I doubt Black doesn’t have a few personal.”

Kaz glances at you, raising an eyebrow. “There won’t be more,” he spat. “Don’t question me.”

You wince at his tone, mumbling a sorry under your breath and letting your gaze slide to your boots.

“Jesper takes out the guards, I’ll take out any extra, and Inej and (Y/N) will head straight for the safe room. Then, Jesper will stand guard while I keep Black at bay with a deal he can’t refuse. Inej will pull the fire alarm, and then we run.”

“Will we have enough time between here and the exit?” Inej asked, using her finger to trace the space between the safe room and the central doorway. “I don’t think it’ll work, Kaz. You won’t have enough time.”

Kaz doesn’t lash out at her. His eyes linger on her face, drawing all the features he already knows in his mind. He’d memorized them before she left so that he could see her in his dreams. He did not want to forget her.

“You’re right,” He said softly, like a hushed whisper between them. An intimate moment that you shouldn’t be a witness to. “Is there a window nearby?”

“There’s one here.”

“Can you get out that way?”

You don’t bother to call him out when he only asks Inej when it’s the two of you that need to escape.

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll count in my head. You have exactly 130 seconds to get in and out.”

“Understood.”

Kaz nods, satisfied, and rolls up the blueprints and tucks them under his arm. “Be here at midnight, sharp. I’m looking at you, Jesper.”

The said boy winks, “Wouldn’t miss it, boss.”

“You would,” Inej quipped.

“Well, guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”

“Jesper.”

“Fine. Midnight sharp.”

Kaz exits the room after that, Inej trailing after him and Jesper swings his revolvers around, instantly drawn to a gambling crowd.

That would occupy him until midnight.

You stand at the empty table, feeling just that. It was lonely.

What used to be six felt more like three, someday two. If you were lucky, four.

“Kaz,” You muttered. “When was the last time you slept?”

He shrugs. “Am I supposed to keep track?”

“Yes.”

He exhales, gripping his desk before meeting your eyes. His face softens. “I don’t know.”

“Kaz-”

He holds a hand up. “I know, I know. Coffee isn’t sufficient enough to keep me awake.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, crossing your arms over your chest. “If you know, why do you still do it?”

“It’s addictive,” he hums.

“Addiction is bad.”

“Is it?” Kaz inquired, grabbing a stack of Kruge off his desk and flipping through it. “Addiction drives us all. It’s the root of every being.”

“So what?” You snorted. “Your addiction is coffee?”

Kaz falls back into his leather seat. “Greed is my addiction. I supposed coffee as well. What’s yours?”

“You,” You breathe out. The answer had slipped from your lips with such ease. You didn't even notice.

Kaz freezes, his pen staggers in the middle of a signature.

“To be like you,” You add for good measure.

“That’s impossible.”

“So is living off coffee.”

“Then it seems we are both at an impasse.”

“It would seem so.”

Kaz’s gaze lingers on you, making your heart pound madly in your chest. “Then let’s come to an agreement.”

“What do you propose?”

“I will attempt to get a good night’s sleep if you try to be yourself.” He sticks his hand out for you to shake. You grab it, making sure it’s quick, but when you try to pull back, Kaz grips it and pulls you towards him.

“And for the record, you are my addiction as well.”

“Me?”

“To be more like you.”

He lets go after that, and you’re unsure if he’s mocking you or if he’s serious.

“Have a goodnight, (Y/N).”

“You too, Kaz.”

Jesper isn’t late. He makes it on time. Courtesy of Kaz grabbing the collar of his shirt and dragging him away from the gambler’s table.

“Do we need to review?” Kaz asked.

You all shake your heads.

“Good because I wasn’t going to.”

Kaz turns sharply on his heels and walks into the Ketterdam night. It’s no different from the day, in fact, the night is more lively. It was better for thieves and mischief. The shadows were in their favor here. The people part for the basted of the barrel; it’s common knowledge to them. They don’t think twice about it; they just move.

It makes for a quick walk to the Mercher’s house.

Jesper takes the front, Kaz the back, and Inej throws you a rope to get onto the roof. Her footsteps are silent as she looks for a way in. She finds a latch on one of the windows and calls you over.

You were always better at picking locks than her. She was better on her feet, and though Kaz tried to teach her, he had gotten fair luckier with you.

In a few clicks, the latch pops open and Inej dives in. You wait for her to clear it before dropping in. You’re not as stealthy as the wraith.

Inej was one of a kind.

You land with a soft thump, both of you waiting five seconds before making any kind of movement. Inej cracks open the door, a stream of light filling the room.

It’s empty. There's nothing except cold, bare walls and a plush rug in the center.

It doesn’t appear to be in use.

Oddly enough, it looks like it’s waiting for someone or something.

Inej taps your shoulder, using your head to gesture to the hallway. You follow after her, staying pressed up against the walls just in case.

But there’s no one; the house is eerily quiet. There are no servants, no guards, and no wife or children. You didn’t know much about Black, other than the fact that he was a wealthy merchant. He mostly kept to himself. Sometimes you’d see him at The Crow Club. He was a cold and calculated man, every move he made was planned out ten in advance.

You could tell by the way he played his cards.

“It should be right about here,” Inej said, opening the door.

At the same thing you can hear Kaz’s voice, slight panic evident. “What did you-,”

As you open the door, your legs are being kicked in, and you drop to the floor next to Inej. Two guards from behind you are quick to bound your hands together as you both push against them.

Black tuts, laughing at the fear on Kaz’s face.

Poor Jesper was knocked out on the floor at his feet.

“Did you really think you could outsmart me?” Black asked, “The power is getting to your head.”

Kaz doesn’t say anything, but his nostrils flare in anger.

“Take them,” Black dismissed, clearly speaking to the guards. “Put… Brekker in a room with the girl, not the Suli one. And put the Zemeni boy and her together.”

The guards nod, roughly seizing you all. Inej shouts in protest, trying to hit them, but she’s unsuccessful.

Kaz grunts when they lay his hands on him, but he obeys because he knows it’ll be worse if he doesn’t. They throw you and Kaz into the room you dropped into earlier. They put you back to back, and you know it’s for Kaz because he hisses every time your hand's brush.

You try not to move as much as possible because it pains you each time you hear it.

Black strolls in a moment later, leaning against the door. He wears a satisfied smirk when you and Kaz glare at him.

“Confess.”

“What?” Kaz said with a snarl.

Black holds a knife between two fingers, spinning it. “Confess something. Your deepest, darkest secret, and maybe you’ll make it out with all your limbs. The Suli girl was quick to do so, and naturally, I’m curious what you two have to offer.”

“What did she say?” Kaz asked.

“Well, maybe if yours is just as good, I’ll tell you.”

“What if it’s not interesting?”

Black pretends to think about it for a moment before throwing the knife at you. You scream when it lands itself in your leg.

Kaz flinches, hard, screwing his eyes shut.

“That,” Black taunts. “So, confession time.”

When neither of you says anything, he grabs another knife. It’s only then that you notice their Inej’s. He had at least twelve more.

“I-,” Kaz starts, but he chokes on his words. They never make it out of his mouth and Black raises his dagger.

“I’m in love with Kaz,” You blurt.

The said boy stiffens against you.

Black lowers his dagger. “Now that is juicy.”

“I’ve been in love with him since we were fourteen," You whisper, letting your head fall. It was good to get it off your chest, but you'd prefer to not have a knife sticking out of you when doing so.

“Brekker?” Black inquired. “Reply?”

Kaz doesn’t say anything.

Black rolls his eyes, tossing another knife at you, and a muffled sob leaves your lips.

“I’ll keep going.”

“Kaz, say something, pl-”

Another one, this time your stomach. You cry out, thankful that at least they’re keeping the blood from rushing out.

“These things are so fun,” Black said. “Where ever did she get them?”

More knives are thrown your way each minute Kaz doesn’t say anything. You feel like a pin doll, except alive and with knives sticking out of you.

Many knives because Kaz couldn’t open his damn mouth.

“I just want the pain to stop,” You sob, unknowingly letting your head fall on his shoulder. You’re exhausted, your body is exhausted as it fights the intrusion. It’s a losing battle. “Kaz, please.”

“I can’t.”

“Just tell me that you love me, please!” You’re begging at this point. You just want to hear those words, even when you know they aren’t true. You knew they weren’t true the moment the third knife landed itself.

“Give the girl what she wants, Brekker. Or the other one gets it.”

“I’ll never love you,” Kaz said, milliseconds after Black had threatened Inej. Somehow, that hurts more than the fourteen knives sticking out of you.

“Don’t touch her,” Kaz shouts when Black backs out of the room.

“You love her, don’t you?”

“Yes!”

Black smiles. “Well, today is your lucky day. That was her confession as well. Since you two are so cute together, I’ll let you leave. All limbs intact.”

“What?” Kaz asked.

Black walks over to you, grabbing the knife from your stomach and pulling it out roughly as you cry.

“Oh yes,” He said, “You two - three - I forgot about the Zemeni boy,” He cuts Kaz’s ties. He’s quick to be on his feet and away from the contact.

“You can leave, you can live out the rest of your lives happily.”

“Three?”

Blood rushes from your open wound. He had nicked an artery when drawing it out. You were somehow thankful for that because at least death came quicker.

It came in fourteen agonizing seconds.

It came knowing that Kaz never loved you. He never cared. And he would sacrifice anything and anyone for Inej.

You were just the first.

Addiction will kill you. You just proved it right.

“My bad,” Black apologizes. “You and the Suli girl can love each other for as long as the saints may deem, but just know, you made that choice.”

“I didn’t choose anything.”

“You did, Brekker. I’ll leave the guilty conscience to you, Dirtyhands.”

The name stings Kaz more than it usually did.

“You chose Inej,” Black said simply. “And you’ll pay the price. And do send me an invite to the wedding.”

Black is gone before Kaz can do anything, and when he looks to you.

You’re already dead.

And he wonders what the lasts words you heard were.

If it was up to him, he would’ve said: I love you too.

— END —

🏷 Kaz taglist: @kaqua

want to be added? click here!

[neonacity]

LUCID | NCT DREAM ‘00 LINE X READER | CH.6

LUCID DREAMS - A TYPE OF DREAM WHEREIN THE PERSON IS AWARE THAT THEY ARE CAUGHT IN A DREAM WORLD.

Summary: It was supposed to be a harmless, professional transaction. You were to tutor a group of boys, get your pay at the end of the day, and go home to your loving fiance. Kids aren’t supposed to be dangerous, right? So why, then, are you caught up in a web of madness that slowly makes you feel like you’re in a living nightmare?

NOTE:This is a yandere plot featuring NCT Dream ‘00 line which means there will be mature themes in the story as well as obsessive, toxic behavior. If you’re a minor, please refrain from interacting. If this isn’t your thing, then just scroll and skip. In no way am I condoning anything written here— this is not love, this is obsession—nor do I think that any of the people mentioned here will act any way like in this story. This is purely a work of fiction.

Genre: yandere, horror, suspense

TW: abuse, obsessive behavior, toxic relationships, suggestive scenes, stalking, possible kidnapping, mental health. Age gap–though nothing dramatic. Everyone is of legal age, drugs, slight smut for this chapter but nothing graphic, questionable consent (?) I guess? Creepy, creepy, creepy! This will be updated as the story goes along.

CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 3 | CHAPTER 4 | CHAPTER 5

“EVERYONE HAS A DARKER NATURE. EVERYONE. GOOD MEN FEAR IT, AND EVIL MEN EMBRACE IT.” - JAMES ISLINGTON

The silent hum of the air conditioning filled the space like a foreboding chant. Nothing else but the sound of the hospital machinery and random noises outside pierced the stillness of the room as you stared, unseeing, at the green and orange numbers that blinked on the monitor above the bed. 

You barely have any recollection of how you managed to find yourself in the hospital, but you do remember brief memories of Taeyong picking you up from the floor you found yourself crumpled on after you got the call. You remember seeing Jaehyun's parents at a brightly lit corridor and his mother pulling you into a hug as she broke down and his father telling you how his son hasn't woken up since he was brought to the emergency room.

You remember your heart breaking in shock, mind too numb from the godforsaken pills you have been taking and your own injury. So many times you wondered to yourself if you were still caught in one of your nightmares, but every time you tried to break free from it, you're slapped back with the reality of how all of this is real.

Your fingers gently tightened on Jaehyun's hands now as your gaze landed on his face. He looked so peaceful, like he's just sleeping, that you almost wanted to bend over and try to kiss him awake. You don't even have any idea what time and day it is already, but you have barely left his side since you were brought to him. The nightmares and sleeplessness? They're barely a problem for you anymore because right now, you're entirely not resting at all unless your body forces you to crash from physical exhaustion. Even then, you usually only sleep for about two to three hours at best to make sure that you never miss a moment with your fiance.

"Severe traumatic head injury. He was lucky enough that the airbag shielded him from the worst of the impact."

The words of his attending doctor echoed in your head again like a faraway voice. You could only remember bits and pieces of what he said to his parents back then as he reported his findings, but you caught enough context for you to draw a picture of the situation. You remember Jaehyun's mother asking the chances of her son waking up again, her voice barely holding up from her emotions. 

"I cannot promise anything, Ma'm. I'd say he has a 60 percent chance. He's fighting."

And he is. You know Jaehyun inside out. He might be unconscious now, but there is no way he is giving up. Not from something like this. 

"Keep fighting baby…" you whispered in the stillness of the room as you lifted his hand gently to your lips to kiss. "I'll wait for you. We still have a wedding to do."

The slight creaking of the door barely made you look away from his sleeping face. You only did at the gentle sound of a throat clearing, your eyes slightly widening as you recognized the man who just walked inside the room. Taeil had the same mildly shocked look on him as he stopped on the  other side of the bed across from you. 

"You…"

"Are you a relative of the patient?" He asked now as he tucked his clipboard under his arm. You simply nodded, watching him quickly glance at the numbers on the monitor before his eyes settled on you again.

"I'm his fiancee."

That made him raise his brows slightly. He pulled a pen now from the pocket of his coat to quickly write something on his file. "What a coincidence. Not a good one obviously. I'm sorry to hear about him. Mr. Jung, right?"

You swallowed. You didn't want to acknowledge anything that he just said so you tried to divert the conversation instead.

"You're not his doctor. Why are you…"

"Oh. He was turned over to me today. I am one of the resident neurologists here but he had to be moved to me because his first doctor has too much in his plate already. Don't worry, I was briefed properly about his case."

Your gaze followed Taeil as he bent over to check Jaehyun's oxygen level as well as the other wires attached to him. You don't know what to feel about him taking over, but at least you already know him previously.

"Are there any changes? Positive ones?" You asked in a frail voice that Taeil definitely didn't miss. You told yourself to not act silly and ask questions that probably do not have answers yet, but you couldn't help yourself now. The man seemed to think over his words first, noticing your state, before calmly giving his reply.

"No particular ones, but the fact that there are no negative developments is… something. I will have to request for some tests to be done on him again tomorrow so we can see if there are positive changes in his brain."

Neutral. Not good, but at least it's not bad either.

"How are you? I was about to check on you again. Is your head okay?"

You were still thinking over his words that you barely caught his question. Looking up, you tried to scramble for an answer to give. To be honest, you haven't given proper attention to your own injury since this happened. You would even only remember to take your medications on your clearest, less anxious moments, which, honestly, isn’t a lot. 

"I'm uh… the wound has closed. But the headaches. They're still there."

He simply nodded. "Any other side effects?"

You didn't immediately answer. You didn't want to sound whiny, but it's not like you're going to lose anything by telling him the uglier parts of your recovery. You swallowed to try and dislodge the slight blockage in your throat.

"Nightmares…" you said now, voice soft. You briefly remembered the last one you had back in the manor before you woke up to the bad news and you felt your stomach turn again. "Lots of them. Hallucinations sometimes…"

The doctor watched you carefully and you know he is trying to compute things in his mind despite his face remaining calm.

"Have you been keeping to your schedule with your medications? Are you taking too much?"

You firmly shook your head no to his last question.

"No, I haven't been overdosing. But… I've been skipping my pills the last few days because of...because of this."

"How have you been feeling since you started missing your dosages then? Do you remember?"

That made you actually stop and think about it for a moment. Now that you are paying attention, you did notice how the nightmares have calmed down slightly. Even the hallucinations are almost gone. You frowned slightly to yourself.

"A bit… better actually."

Taeil took his time to observe you a bit more before writing something on a new page of his clipboard.

"You must have had severe reactions to the mixture of pills I gave you. I'm going to prescribe you new ones and ask the nurses to pick them up and bring them to you here. Can you promise that you'll try and take them though? You really need them to fully heal."

You nodded and gave him a slightly sheepish look.

"I will, thank you very much."

Taeil dug his hands into the pockets of his coat and gave you a gentle smile.

"Well, that's it for today. I'll come back tomorrow to give you updates about Mr. Jung." He had already turned and started walking away when he suddenly stopped to look at you again.

"Oh, and another thing. Please try and get some sleep. Recover… and then focus on helping your fiance."

******* You didn't really know what woke you up. Stirring from your sleep, the first thing that registered to you was the sound of distant traffic mixed with the gentle chirping of the morning birds from outside the window. A warm feeling radiated on your cheek and made the back of your eyelids glow red.

You flickered your eyes open and immediately rolled away to escape the ray of sunshine that slipped from the open curtains and shone directly at your face. You easily evaded it as you moved over to the other side of the bed which was empty and cold from the night before.

That was when you finally remembered that you were back in your home, in the same bedroom you share with Jaehyun. The day before, his mother offered to take the responsibility of watching over him so there was a sudden change of plans that finally gave you the reason to check back into your apartment after so long. If it were you, you would have preferred not leaving your boyfriend’s side until he wakes up, but you also knew that your future mother-in-law wanted to spend time with him so you relented. 

Of course you weren't thrilled to be home alone, especially with Jaehyun not being there, but the comfort that a real mattress provided—over the small couch you used to sleep in back at the hospital—is definitely a welcome change for your body. You even tried to take your medicine properly, the new ones that Taeil had provided, in the hopes of getting knocked down fast. Your adrenaline and anxiety had been fueling you in the past days, but you know from the way your heart thumped and your hands shook that you need a solid rest.

And you got it. You still feel a little groggy now but your body is definitely lighter and your head clearer. The nightmares didn't even come, and while they were replaced by total darkness or dreams in white that still made you anxious, you are willing to take those anytime over the graphic ones that you used to have.

You gently sat back against the headrest of the bed now and reached out for your phone to check the time. It's barely 7AM but as expected, Jaehyun's mom has already provided you with updates from the hospital. He’ll have some tests taken today as Taeil advised and then they’ll hear more about his progress. From the looks of it, she seems still set on watching over her son, which means you still have at least today free to yourself.

You quickly typed a reply to her and sighed. You’re thankful that even though you weren’t related by blood, his parents have always treated you as if you were their own. Having a family is not something you’ve really experienced in your childhood, so that’s something you’ve always appreciated about them. That is also the reason why you wish for the best out of this situation, because you also couldn’t bear seeing your fiance’s mother and father heartbroken. He’s their only son, after all.

A quick look around your room left you feeling empty. The last week has been so hard that it felt longer and now you’re struggling to find your normal pace again. In an effort to bring yourself to focus, you decided to pick up your phone once more and started flipping through your calendar to check your schedule. It didn’t take long for you to frown when you realized the upcoming dates there. You’ve plotted important academic schedules in advance and one quick look at it told you how much you’ve obviously missed in the past week. You’ve been so lost in the mess of everything that has happened that you’ve entirely forgotten about your job at the manor. You realized that they didn’t even call you once to ask about your absence, probably because they also know about the situation, but even that is not enough excuse for you to entirely fall off the radar.  

Biting your lip, you quickly scrolled through your contacts now to look for the number you need. Your thumb hovered over the call button momentarily, but you eventually pressed it anyway. Your eyes wandered towards the clock on the wall, hoping silently to yourself that it wasn’t too early for you to call.

“Rosewood Manor, how can I help you?”

You straightened on your seat.

“Hey, Taeyong. It’s me. Sorry if I called so early.”

The other boy seemed to have been taken slightly by surprise by the way he fell silent at the other end of the line. You tapped your finger against your knee, waiting for him to speak again.

“Hi. No, it’s fine. Work started for me about an hour ago. Are you okay? How’s things on your end?”

You nibbled guiltily on your lower lip and finally got off your bed to walk over to the window. You pushed the curtains open and stared at the slight snowfall that had started falling on the ground. You’ve missed so many days of reporting to them but the first thing he does is to check if you’re fine.

“I um—things are still the same. My boyfriend’s still at the hospital.”

“Oh… I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“Look, I want to apologize. I haven’t really reported to work and I didn’t even call about it. It’s just that—things have been so crazy lately, but still that isn’t an excuse for me to just not show up.”

Taeyong, however, was understanding as always. You were about to go off for another round of apologies when he gently cut you off. 

“Hey, it’s fine. We know you’ve been dealing with a lot lately so we also weren't expecting anything. Don’t worry too much about it.”

“But, the boys’ examinations and portfolio review is happening in three days and I haven’t really checked in with them. How are they doing now?”

“Oh...that. Well, we actually tried looking for a temporary tutor to help out but I...uh… I think he isn't really cutting it. Maybe because he isn’t the one who started the program with them. But he’s a big help still.”

“Oh god, I’m so sorry about that. I should have at least—look, I can drop by today and just try to fix things.”

“Are you sure? You really don’t have to. Don’t you need to be at the hospital?”

You started going around your room now, trying to gather the scattered papers and files that you’ll need. It’s a good thing you woke up early so you still have time to prepare for work. “My boyfriend’s mother is the one watching over him today so I have the day off.”

“And your injury? How is it?”

Your eyes landed on the new bottles of medicine sitting on your bedside table.

“Better. I’m feeling so much better.”

You heard Taeyong sigh in relief over the phone. “Thank god. We were so worried about that. Well, you really don’t need to go, but if you have time, I guess doing it today won’t hurt. It will help us a lot.”

A small smile tugged at your lips now and you switched the phone over to your other ear as you started arranging your bag. “Thank you so much for being understanding. I need a distraction anyway. I’d rather work than stay home alone… Thanks for not firing me.”

That made him laugh a little. “I’ll tell the boys that you’re coming over. Oh, and be careful on your drive here. The roads are a little bit slippery today because of the snow.”

“I will, thank you. I’ll be there by 9.”

******* “Noona!”

You have barely finished arranging your materials on your desk when the door to the room burst open and ushered an anxious-looking Jisung inside. You looked up quickly at him, only barely catching Chenle wobbling with his crutch before your vision of the entrance was blocked by Jisung’s tall frame. His hair looked swept up as if he ran and there was a slight flush staining his cheeks. He stopped right in front of you, stopping just in time for him not to topple you over.

“Hey, Jisung how are—” You tried to give him a smile but he was quick enough to grab your hands between his.  

“Are you back? Are you really back for real?” He pressed now, eyes wide as he tried to bend over to look closely at you. He looked like a puppy, the only missing thing being a wagging tail to complete the look. You couldn’t help the brief laugh that passed over you as you tried to calm him down.

“I am. For the day, yes. Sorry I missed so many of your sessions.”

“We thought you left us,” Jisung continued, his lower lip protruding just a bit. Just then, Chenle had finally reached the two of you, a slightly embarrassed look on his face. This is actually the first time you saw him again since the day the two of you had your accident and you’re glad to see him healthy despite his broken leg.

“Hi, Chenle. How are you?”

The boy scratched the back of his head and looked away slightly. “Fine… I’m sorry, noona. I wasn’t able to visit you when you stayed with us. I’m really really sorry about what happened in the forest.”

You tried to give him a reassuring smile and freed one of your hands from Jisung’s hold to ruffle his hair. The action seemed to have calmed him down a little because he finally looked at you again, a small apologetic smile on his own lips.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s not your fault. But be careful next time, okay?”

“Are you going to be our tutor again, noona?” Jisung pressed once more and you turned your attention back to him. To be honest, you’re still not sure how your schedule will turn out after this, but you couldn’t really bear to break the poor boy’s heart at the moment.

“Yes… I’m here to teach your big brothers today for their tests though. We’ll have to schedule you and Chenle’s lessons again. Is that alright?”

A brief look of disappointment flashed on his face but he was quick enough to pick it up. Jisung smiled and gave your hand a squeeze.

“Okay. We can wait. It’s good you are back, Jaemin-hyung was so—”

“Yah, don’t hog her by yourself. You’ll scare her away.”

A new voice made the three of you look back to the doorway. Haechan smiled at your little group as he strolled casually into the room followed by Jeno and Jaemin. The three of them joined your crowd and you felt Jisung finally let go of your hand as he stepped away to go over to his brothers’ side.

“Hi. Sorry, I only returned now. Taeyong told me that you—”

You weren’t able to finish what you wanted to say as Haechan gently stopped you mid-sentence. He leaned his head to the side, eyes briefly scanning you from head to toe. Unlike Jisung, he looked calm and only barely excited.

“It’s fine. We knew you’ll come back. How are you?”

“Oh… I’m good. My head is better. I haven’t had the chance to thank all of you for taking care of me when I was here.”

“How about your boyfriend?” It was Jeno who asked this time and you quickly turned to him to address his question. Your eyes briefly slipped to Jaemin who was standing behind him before you could even speak though, and for a moment you had the impression that Jeno was shielding him—or blocking him from you. You blinked a little bit in confusion, wondering if it was just your imagination that was making you think that way.

“He’s still… still unconscious,” your smile dropped a little but you tried your best to keep your voice casual. “We’re getting more tests for him. His doctor said that he isn’t showing bad signs at least.”

“I’m so sorry to hear about him,” Haechan said with compassion and you gave him a grateful look. Your gaze settled on Jaemin again, however, who for some reason had barely looked at you since he came into the room. You know that he can be quiet and reserved at times, but there is something in the air around him that makes you slightly worried. He’s so still, but the way he carries himself makes it seem like he’s so strung up at the same time. It also doesn’t help that Jeno seems to be almost pushing him back from view.

“Hi Jaemin… How are you?” You tried to gently ask him to make sure that he is okay. He didn’t look at you at first, but when he finally did, you felt yourself freeze a little. His eyes looked dark and almost emotionless when he met yours and there were shadows under them as if he hadn't slept properly for days. He didn’t even answer and just simply stared, his gaze blank and accusing at the same time.

Haechan casually glanced over his brother and chuckled. “Our Jaeminie here has been sick for the past couple of days so he’s a little out of it. But he’s going to be fine now,” he put a hand over the other’s shoulder and gave it a slight squeeze as if to calm him down. “Right, Jaemin? We’ll try our best to go to class today since noona is finally back, hmm?”

Jaemin, however, didn’t even seem to hear him. He continued staring at you the same way that kept you pinned on your spot.

“Are you leaving again?” he finally asked and you almost felt goosebumps rise on your skin. It didn’t sound like a question… but more of a threat. You swallowed.

“I’m going to have to arrange my schedule till things get better…” you answered carefully, as if you’re navigating dark waters. That didn’t seem to cut it for him, unfortunately.

“So you’re not leaving. Forever?”

You blinked. To be honest, you’ve been thinking of quitting and just finishing the rest of the month if things didn’t improve, but you don’t think that’s the right answer to give at the moment.

“No… not for now,” you finally managed to say. You watched as Jaemin seemed to visibly relax, his stiff shoulders loosening under Haechan’s grip. He didn’t say anything after that, but he at least looked away, seemingly more satisfied with your words.

“Great. I think we should get to work,” Haechan broke the silence and looked around the room as if the tension you were feeling was just something only you could feel. He nodded towards Chenle and Jisung then. “You guys go back to your own classes. You’ll have your share of noona once it’s your turn.” He then glanced at you, smile still in place. “Should we start then?”

You nodded. “Is Renjun still not back?”

“Not yet. He’s going to be here tomorrow though,” Jeno answered as he took his seat on one of the desks.

“I see…”

Haechan also found his spot, but not before you’ve noticed him urging Jaemin to do the same. Playfully, he took the pencil you’ve arranged on the desk and started tapping it against the wood of the table.

“Don’t worry. We’ll tell him you’re back. I’m sure he can’t wait to have his lessons again~”

******* You looked over the window for the third time in the last fifteen minutes and sighed. The day had been busy with you trying to catch up on the boys’ lessons that you barely even noticed the state of the weather outside. When you finally did, it took you by surprise when you saw how much of the ground was covered by snow—one look at it told you that it is at least a feet deep by now. Your first instinct was to try and maneuver your car out of the lot before your tires get entirely buried in it, but then you remembered that you promised to wait for Taeyong to come back before leaving the manor. The butler requested for you to temporarily watch over the manor while he tries to do some last minute errands back in the city, but it’s been two hours since he originally promised to come back. You eyes glanced at your watch now, then back at the quickly darkening view outside. 

“...severe snowstorm has blocked some of the main roads in the city at the moment. Expect heavy traffic and don’t forget to drive safely.”

You turned to the television now to catch the last of the rambling dialogue of the reporter about the weather. You’ve been debating on whether to call Taeyong or not to check on him, but you didn’t want to seem impatient to go home when you only really wanted to make sure if he’s safe. From the looks of it, he’s stuck somewhere because of the hale, too.

You were on your way to get your phone from your bag to at least try to shoot him a message when you suddenly heard it ring. Getting it just in time, you almost sighed in relief when you saw his number there. You quickly took it and went over to the window to answer it to make sure you get some proper signal.

“Hello? Taeyong?”

“Hey. Finally. I’ve been trying to call you for the last hour, thank god it finally connected.”

“Oh, sorry, my phone’s in my bag. I think the signal’s getting bad because of the snowstorm. Where are you? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, about that, I’m still stuck in town. The traffic’s so bad here because a section of the main road is blocked. Road maintenance is supposed to come thirty minutes ago but I think there’s a delay because there are other roads they are working on.”

Your gaze drifted back to the television where scenes of the same blocked avenues were being flashed. “Yeah… the news says the same.  Are you safe though?”

“I am. I’m really sorry for making you wait. I’d tell you to drive back and not wait for me anymore but I don’t think you’ll also make it home in time with all this traffic going on. I don’t think it’s going to be safe. Do you mind waiting for a little bit more? I’ll tell you once the roads are better.”

You thought it over quickly, a frown settling on your face. You really want to go home, but he’s right. There’s no point in trying to drive back if you’ll only find yourself stuck in the roads for hours. Not being a big fan of night driving yourself, you can already imagine the stress waiting for you if you add a snowstorm to the mix. As much as you wanted to leave, you’re left with no choice, at least for the moment.

 “I can… I’ll just wait for you, I guess. Do you want me to do anything here while you’re gone? Dinner for the boys?”

“Oh no, no, you don’t need to do that, that’s not part of your job,” Taeyong sounded abashed when he said that. You stepped away from the window then and took a seat by the fireplace that Jeno started earlier. Half of your concentration was on the news which has now shifted to a different set of reports also caused by the snowstorm. “They’ll know when to go down and eat. Don’t worry about them. Where are they right now?”

“Ah, I think they went back to their rooms? I did tell them earlier that I’ll try to wait for you.”

“I see. Yes, I think that’s better. Don’t worry, I’ll keep you updated. If things don’t get better, I think I’ll have no other choice but find a hostel here and wait for the weather to calm down. You can stay there and just ask for help from any of them. You can stay in the same room just in case.”

You didn’t quickly react to the offer. Instead, your eyes flickered to the doorway of the room before refocusing your attention back to the conversation. It’s not like you have anything against spending the night again at the manor—you’ve done it before, after all—but it’s honestly not really something you’re comfortable to do again. Maybe it’s because you’ve never really been okay with overstaying at strangers’ houses but your gut feel is also telling you right now that it shouldn’t be your top option regardless of the situation you are in.

Still, you didn’t want to come off rude to Taeyong, not when he is only being kind to offer you temporary shelter while being stuck in the middle of nowhere himself. So instead, you went against your initial doubts and offered him your thanks in return. It’s just Plan B that he’s proposing after all. 

“I will. Keep me updated though if you need anything you think I can help with.”

“Thank you and I will. I have to go now though. Please make yourself at home. I’ll try to call again after an hour.”

“Okay. Take care.”

You put your phone down now with a worried frown as you heard the line drop. You couldn’t believe this is happening the first day you got back to work but it’s not like you can really blame anyone for it. The only good thing is that you’re sure Jaehyun is being taken care of right now so that is at least one thing off your shoulders. You didn’t really need to rush anywhere, not especially to a vacant home. Leaning back against your seat, you tried your best to relax as your gaze travelled around the room once again. You deliberated on sending a text to your mother-in-law to tell her about your situation but decided against it, not wanting to worry her more. You sighed. For now, you guess you didn’t have any other choice but to wait.

You did try to distract yourself by watching the news for a few more minutes before finally giving up on it. With resignation, you picked yourself up from your seat again and turned the television off. For a moment you simply stood in the middle of the room, trying to figure out what to do with your time when your gaze settled on the door again. Everyone retreated to their own rooms after they finished with their lessons so it means the house is pretty much yours for exploring if you wanted to. You toyed with the idea for a little bit, before finally resigning yourself to it. It’s not like there really is anything else left for you to do, and Taeyong did say you can make yourself feel at home if you wanted to. With a sigh, you finally turned on your heels to leave the room and peered silently into the hallway. It was deserted as expected, but still your eyes travelled left and right to check if there’s anyone out and about at this hour. It was only after you made sure that you were alone when you finally allowed yourself to step into the corridor.

Of course, you have a plan. You’re pretty much sure that checking out the rooms on the first floor is acceptable since it’s where you’ve been rotating your classes so you’re going to stick to those areas. You remember finding a library there once and you focused on finding your way to it to maybe check out some of the books in the collection. 

It did take you about five minutes to finally find the place you were looking for. For some reason, the sections in the manor always confuse you no matter how many times you try to memorize each one, probably because of how big and similar-looking they are on the outside. You’ve already tried four doors when you were finally welcomed by the familiar-looking bookshelves at the fifth one. You sighed and gave one quick look around the room before slipping yourself inside after making sure that you’re alone.

There will probably never be a time when you won’t find yourself fascinated by anything in this grand home. If the architecture of the mansion is not enough to convince anyone how rich the family is, their book collection is enough to assure that at the very least. You’ve only ever taken a quick glimpse of it once during one of your lessons with the boys, but one look of the titles in their shelves is enough to make any literature major excited. You looked at the floor to ceiling collection now, your fingers gently running over the spines of the books you could reach with a small smile on your face.

You were about to check out the rest of the collection on the other side of the wall when something in the middle of the room caught your attention. You didn’t really catch it at first because of the shadows that concealed it when you first came in, but you could pretty much discern the outline of a blanket covered standee now from where you stood. You frowned. Taking careful steps, you closed the distance towards it to try and figure out what exactly it is that you’re seeing.

A closer look revealed it to be an easel covered with white cloth. You could see the outline of the canvas where the blanket falls over it while shadows of colors peeked out into the thin fabric from the surface it was covering. How odd… you knew that Renjun had a different art room for his paintings so to see this now here in the middle of the library seems uncanny.

You didn’t know how long you remained standing in front of it, too. You know you should have walked away—after all, the white cloth hiding it away from plain view means whatever is on that canvas is not meant for everyone’s eyes to see, but you simply couldn’t tear yourself away from it. It’s as if there was a silent force asking you to pull that cloth to reveal what’s underneath, the inclination so strong that you could almost hear its voice breathing down next to your ear, unrelenting until you do what it says.

The next thing you know, you had your hand attached to one end of the fabric. You stared at it now, wondering last minute if you should go ahead or not. You swallowed and glanced around one last time around the room. If you’re alone… it wouldn’t hurt if you could take a peek, right? Nobody will know. You just have to see, then cover it back again. Before you could even think about it too much, your arm was finally moving on its own as it gently tugged at the covering. You watched as it fell gently on the floor, like a bodiless ghost melting into the shadows on the ground.

Your eyes couldn’t make out what you were seeing at first. The dim lighting of the room wasn’t helping at all, but you were sure that it was a woman’s silhouette that was staring back at you from the canvas. Colors swirled around her, like some unknown mass trying to drag her back into unknown depths. Shapes and tones jumped from the picture, but her form stood out from the rest, gracefully twisted as if she was in the middle of trying to fight and succumb to it at the same time. You frowned. Taking a step closer towards it, you tried to study its details under what little illumination the lamps above afforded you.

That’s when it all happened simultaneously. Your heart stopped beating the same time your eyes widened as they finally focused on what’s in front of them. It’s as if the ground suddenly vanished from underneath your feet and you were falling, falling, deep into the abyss despite your body being frozen in fear and shock.

You know this painting. You’ve seen it before. It was the same one by Renjun, the one that you saw on your first day working in the manor.

But it was different now. Instead of the unfinished state that caught your attention before, everything about the picture now is in sharp focus. The lines on the woman’s nude body, the hands—which you thought were simply dark swirls dragging her back—and her face twisted beautifully in pleasure and madness stared back at you like a nightmare.

But it was not those which truly shook you to your core. It’s the realization that it was your own face in the portrait that was staring back at you, silently screaming for you to run away.

You stumbled back in shock. Your chest felt tight as you tried to grasp for air while your hands fumbled to find something to hold on to keep you from crashing on the ground. Before you could even take another step, however, something hard hit your back and you felt strong arms wrap around your waist like a vice. You have barely realized what was happening when you felt someone lean over your shoulder, lips pressing against the shell of your ear.

“Isn’t it beautiful? You’re the perfect muse, don’t you think?” Renjun asked softly as he pressed a gentle kiss to your temple.

******* You didn’t know how long you stayed frozen in his embrace. For a brief moment you thought you were dreaming again until you felt his arms slowly tighten around your waist. As if a jolt of electricity shocked you, you immediately turned to push him away as you scrambled to put some distance between the two of you.

Renjun didn’t seem the least bothered when your eyes finally focused on him. He remained on his spot, his gaze on you unwavering. You, meanwhile, were shaking from head to toe, the vision of the painting still branded vividly in your head.

“Renjun—what’s this?” you managed to stutter as you pointed at the artwork in the middle of the room. You couldn’t even spare to look at it again while he merely gave it a casual glance.

“It’s you. I’ve been working on it for a long time. I was about to show it to you but it seems like you couldn’t wait for it yourself.”

You felt nauseous. A part of your rational mind was slowly losing it as you tried to process his answer. Something's not right. Something is so terribly wrong.

“Why—why did you do this?”

Renjun simply stared at you and leaned his head a little bit to the side as if he was only mildly curious of your reaction. Your stomach turned even before hearing his answer.

“You said it’s beautiful.”

“This is not right—!”

“I came home because they said you were leaving for good,” he continued speaking softly, effectively cutting you from what you were about to say. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end and you took another step back as you watched him get close to his artwork. You watched in horror as his thin fingers lovingly ran over the corners of the canvas. “Jaemin almost lost it… It’s a good thing I got here on time.”

And just like that, everything seemed to have clicked into place. The glances, the touches, the words that seemed to have a different undercurrent under them… they weren’t just fragments of your imagination. Every little thing that has gnawed at you from the inside came into crystal clear focus and you felt your knees go weak from the weight of it all. It took every fiber of your being to try and keep yourself steady now, your legs moving on their own as they took small backward steps away from the boy staring at you now with dead eyes. You couldn’t breathe, but it was the last words he told you that finally snapped you to run.

“I don’t think you’ve realized it yet. But no, you cannot leave. Ever.”

You didn’t know where you got the energy for it but in seconds you were flying out of that room and running blindly down the darkened corridors. Your blood pumped noisily in your ears and your chest felt like it was going to split from the sudden exertion you put on it, but you didn’t stop, not even looking back as you tried to put as much distance between you and the library. You didn’t even know where you were going. All you’re focused on is to find the exit and leave the house as soon as possible.

A loud bang that sounded off to your right startled you and you screamed, the force of your shock making you whip around and almost lose your balance. Before you could even hit the floor, however, a pair of hands caught you and you immediately turned, grasping at the chest of your rescuer.

You froze. Haechan smiled down at you as he tried to steady you on your feet.

“Haechan,” you gasped as you took fistfuls of his shirt and tried to shake him in your panic. “Renjun—he’s—please, help me. He’s after me—” you gasped out, almost out of your wits. You’re on the verge of a total breakdown that it almost escaped you, the way he simply smiled down on your shaking form. It was only when you felt one of his hands gently caress the top of your head that reality slapped you in the face again. You suddenly stopped struggling in his hold, pupils shaking as you watched him study your features lovingly.

“Shh… it’s fine. I got you,” he whispered and you could swear ice pricked you from the inside. A slight movement to the right made you turn your head and you saw Jaemin lean casually against the banister of the stairs, his face serene. He gave you one quick look before a gentle smile finally lit up his features.

“Has it started?” he asked and you felt Haechan’s hold on you tighten.

“It has.”

You didn’t struggle. It was as if any trace of fight you had left you in that moment and you let your hands fall limply on your sides. Haechan also loosened his grip on you and you stared at the two boys blankly, your chest heaving as if fighting for air. They didn’t move from their spots and simply followed you with their eyes as if relishing the fear and realization flashing in your face.

Trapped.

You’re trapped.

You’ve always been.

You didn’t even realize that your legs had started moving again on their own as the pieces of the puzzle started to fall together in your mind. You were only shaken from it when your back finally hit the front door, the cold metal of the knob pressing against your spine. Jaemin and Haechan remained on their spots still, even as you blindly reached out for it from behind.

You were expecting it to be locked, so you were a little bit surprised when you felt it give way under your hand when you tried to turn it open. Just before you could even entertain the idea of escaping, however, any trace of hope you had quickly died as you turned and came face to face with Jeno standing right in front of the entrance. He didn’t look the least surprised seeing you there, as if he was waiting for you in the first place.

You eyes took in his calm countenance before slowly moving to stare downwards at what he was holding by his side. Your gaze locked on it in fear, and that’s when the flight response in you flared up again.

Jeno’s hunting rifle shone dully in the light of the entryway, his pale fingers wrapped on its handle.

“There’s really only one place you can run, noona, but I won’t advise it,” he said evenly and you felt your blood freeze in your veins.

“After all, no matter where you hide, I’ll still find you in that forest.”

It happened all at once. You broke into a run, your body screaming at you to go faster as you heard gunshots pierce the air.

---

CHAPTER 7

A/N: Good lord, I wasn’t expecting I’d finish this today but I got one large iced coffee and well... things happened. Anyway, enjoy! Let’s hope the format won’t mess up this time. T.T Finally, all hell broke loose~ <3

Tag list! 

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