#i'm recovering from a cold and i'm bored

[kykyonthemoon]

Rain On The Way Home

Zayne takes you home after an argument between the two of you.

ಇ. Zayne x Reader/MC

ಇ. Tags & warnings: since there's a bit spicy at the end I shall put 16+, MDNI here, fluff, short and sweet, kiss and make up, making out, argument, hurt/comfort, established relationship, character might be a bit ooc idk.

ಇ. Word count: ~1k9

ಇ. Based on a request by YNhi.

ಇ. Masterlist ♡ Request a fic

Your lips were pursed tightly. Hands placed on your thighs were clenched so tightly that you could feel the nails digging into your skin. You did your hardest to keep back the tears that threatened to fall, but failed. Warm drops dripped on the back of your hands, and you brushed them away as soon as you noticed a familiar figure approaching from afar.

Zayne opened the car door and sat in the driver's seat. He did not glance at you or say anything. You turned entirely to face the window, observing the soft drizzle fall outside. All you wanted to do was kick the car door open, run out into the rain and scream your lungs out.

The atmosphere between the two of you had never been this stuffy. You could have left alone, but because your body was injured and your emotions were all over the place, you lacked the strength to oppose Zayne's decision. So you let him do anything he wanted. Perhaps that was best for both.

Just a second ago, you fought to reject him and ended up sitting here with bitterness in your heart, allowing him to take you home, allowing him to control you like a puppet again.

The third time you had been hospitalized in one short month, you had also reached Zayne's limit.

People at the hospital claimed that when Dr. Zayne was upset, he became quite frightening. They thought he would explode and anyone unlucky enough to get in his way would suffer. On the contrary, Zayne's rage was like a blizzard on the horizon. You might believe it would not find you, but when it did, no matter where you hid, you would never be secure. 

And that day, for the first time ever, Doctor Zayne was seen losing his usual composure.

His lengthy and fast steps resembled racing through long and busy corridors. The hospital room door opened in such a way that it was about to come off its hinges. Zayne's face solidified. Without a word, he confiscated your medical documents and commanded everyone to go, in such a frightening manner that the nurse caring for you had to shiver from the cold after leaving.

Zayne looked at the documents and then at the wound on your shoulder. It was treated in time but remained painful. The injury had left you quite weak, but after nearly a day of medical care, what distressed you the most was Zayne's attitude.

Before he could say anything, you spoke up and explained:

“It was just an incident… It wasn't like I took the initiative to accept this mission. It's just that there were no other Hunters closer to the attack area than I was…”

“That's why, despite the fact that you hadn't completely recovered and were resting, you hurried to the scene, dismissing your prior injuries. Dismissing your doctor's orders?"

One corner of the file in Zayne's hand was so tight that it became wrinkled when he let go and threw it hard on the nearby table. He turned his back on you and looked out the window. One hand on his hip, the other hand to bury his face. He acted as if he was trying his best to retain the last bit of composure. 

"I'm fine." You said. "I honestly felt no discomfort. I have been able to move properly for a week now. Staying at home constantly is boring. I needed to stretch a little so I could get back to work quickly."

Zayne slowly turned around to look at you. He was still standing in the corner of the room, and you noticed the window glass behind him starting to freeze. 

“You were bored? If you feel bored, call your friends. If you feel bored, go shopping or hang out where you like to go. You were bored so you decided to jump right into a group of Wanderers?"

“Zayne…” You grimaced. “I don't like you this way… You… are acting so strange…”

“Do you think I'd like to see you lying here? Do you think I'd like to see you being carried to the hospital?"

"I'm sorry…" You murmured. You knew it was you to blame for not listening to him and instead running to the scene of the attack. But you were conscious of your own strength and wanted to fulfill the commitment you made when you decided to become a Hunter.

"You've said sorry for the third time this month." Zayne responded. His face was rigid, yet his fists were clasped firmly. "I've heard enough."

"Oh, just quit it!" You abruptly raised your voice. "I told you I didn't like you acting this way. As a Hunter, it's normal for me to get hurt!"

Zayne opened his eyes wide. He was astonished by your response. He stayed silent so you could pour out your feelings.

“I am capable of taking care of myself! I don't like being told what to eat or drink. I don't like being told what time I must  go to bed. Or being compelled to stay at home even though I have completely recovered and ready to battle! I'm not a child for you to order around, or tell me to do this and that!”

“You're saying, I'm too controlling over you?”

“I…” You halted. It seemed that was true. Even while you knew Zayne had good intentions and genuinely cared for you, you were unable to avoid feeling as if he was in charge of every part of your life, controlling every meal and sleep. 

"Understood."

Silence permeated the hospital room for a long moment. Zayne gazed at you as if he was considering something, then he started to pack up your clothes and belongings that remained in the room.

“What are you doing?” 

Zayne responded: “I don't want to be the one who controls you. You will be discharged from the hospital and free to do as you please.”

“What do you mean by that?” Free? It sounded like he did not care about you anymore. It sounded like he was going to give you your freedom back by not getting involved in anything related to you anymore.

“I will not force you to stay here. No one can do that. In roughly ten minutes, someone will come and take you to my car. I only ask you to do this for me once more.”

Having said that, Zayne turned and left. The door closed behind his broad back and you swore you were about to cry right from that moment.

The nurse came to inform you that Dr. Zayne had directly requested your discharge from the hospital. They let you go since your situation was not too serious and they believed Zayne would care for you discreetly at home. Zayne waited for you in the parking lot. He unlocked the door for you to enter first and returned to fetch a few more medical supplies before driving you home.  

All along the way, you kept wondering if you had made a big mistake. You were exceptionally disrespectful and became frustrated with Zayne for no reason. However, he did not give in to you as he always did. Confused, you simply wanted to lie down on your pleasant mattress at home and weep loudly. However, as the car came to a halt in front of your flat, Zayne refused to let you get out.

You turned to look at him. He looked exhausted and miserable. He gripped the steering wheel tightly, then your eyes met for a moment. You were the first to break that connection.

"I'm home now. Can I leave yet? Or do I still have to wait for your permission?"

"Just stay a little more." Zayne's deep voice rang out. He was considerably more relaxed now than he had been previously. "I'm sorry…"

That was the first time you had heard an apology from him. How strange! Usually, you were the one making trouble, and Zayne was the one who looked after you. You were the one who said sorry. Hearing those words coming out of his mouth made you feel so odd.

“I'm sorry if I become too controlling and that makes you feel uncomfortable.”

You were astonished for a second. You still wanted to weep, but your emotions had settled down considerably.

Zayne slipped his hand down from the steering wheel to seize yours and turned it over. He said:

“When I saw you almost unconscious from the poison, being carried into the hospital room, my heart seemed to stop beating. That is not something I want to see at all.”

Zayne's eyes were quite sorrowful. You subconsciously imagined that if you switched roles and the injured person was him, you definitely would not be able to remain calm in such a situation.

“I know you can take care of yourself,” Zayne continued. “But I still want to help you do that and protect you. In my own way.”

After he finished speaking, there was a moment of calmness. The street lights were illuminated, and the rain stopped pouring. You softly clutched his hand.

“I'm sorry too, because what I said was not true… I didn't mean to call you a dictator who controls this relationship…”

You smiled at him. The corners of Zayne's lips also loosened somewhat. He took your hand and tenderly pressed a kiss on.

“I'm really okay.” You added. “The doctor also said that the poison from the Wanderers had been purified. I don't feel too much pain anymore."

Zayne gave a slight nod. He understood this from the moment he read your record. That was why he boldly asked for you to be discharged from the hospital. Even though he was upset, your safety would come first in any case.

"You said you were fine?" Zayne inquired out of the blue. "How do you prove it then?"

You exhaled. After all, he still had reservations about your ability to care for yourself. You leaned in to offer him a passionate kiss. The resentment in your heart melted away in his warmth.

As your lips withdrew from Zayne's, he whispered:

"Good enough. However, in the future, if there is an issue between us, or if you are dissatisfied with something I do,... can I trust you to talk to me directly about it?"

You gave a modest nod. Zayne kissed you, deep. He caressed you but only so gently, as if afraid that you would melt into rain bubbles if he became too greedy. A while later, perhaps since your head was hazy from the injury, you had no clue how you ended up sitting on top of Zayne in the driver's seat, your lips locked with him while your hands constantly touching his flesh underneath the shirt. His delicate but searing kisses fell on your shoulder, around the bandaged area that had just been revealed to his sight as he pulled your shirt down. He kissed your wounds, new and old. He asked softly, would you feel pain if he touched them? And you replied that there was only pain if he did not do so.

Rain began pouring again; it might last all night long. How convenient, since he did not intend to let you get out of the car in such a condition.

[kazuhaiku]

when you're sick

warnings: gn!reader, fluff, sick!reader ノ pairings: sakura, suo, umemiya, kaji, togame x reader (separate)

notes: im back once again with a headcanon drabble ^__^

sakura

does not really know what to do

it's a given that sakura never really had the chance to take care of other people before he came to furin, so when he finds out you're sick, the first thing he does is ask nirei what to do (though reluctantly. he almost ran away after saying "what-"). suo and nirei almost laugh at sakura's face, seeing how red it is, but they give him good advice.

he does his best picking out which medicine to buy that is fitting for your cold, buys some soup from his favorite restaurant, and even buys your favorite manga to keep you company while he's out in school.

you really can't help but smile when sakura hands you these items. he rubs the back of his head nervously, scared that none of the stuff he chose were right for you, but you gently affirm him that these are all perfect. you even gave him a kiss on his cheek as a reward. he stays to help you do simple tasks and gets really worked up when you try to get up.

"don't get up! you're still recovering."

"'kura, i'm fine."

"no you're not! now stay right there."

suo

he's got medicine at the ready. he keeps a separate pouch at home for the different kinds of medicine that suit your needs. it honestly shocked you at first when you texted suo that you aren't able to meet up with him for the day because you are sick and he suddenly appears in front of your doorstep in just ten minutes.

suo is carrying the medicine pouch, some towels, and even some snacks so you don't get bored of soup and healthy food. he takes care of you really well, changing the towel on your forehead every few hours. he also reminds you to take your medicine on time, which leads you to healing faster than normal.

"have you drank your medicine yet?"

"mhm, you reminded me like five minutes ago."

umemiya

trust me when i say that umemiya will panic. i mean, even if you say that you only have a small cold, umemiya will abandon everything he's doing just to go and check up on you. he doesn't even stop by the pharmacy to buy you medicine because his only priority right now is you.

when he reaches your home, he barges in, quickly calling out that it was him before making you panic. he walks to your room and almost cries when he sees you on the bed.

"baby! are you okay? does it hurt anywhere?"

"haji, it's only a fever."

"a fever can be fatal! you never know what it will lead to! have you drank your medicine? eat enough food? drink enough water? you're sweating like crazy come on let's get you changed."

"haji-"

you can't protest because umemiya is already carrying you out of your bed and sits you down on the table in the bathroom. he grabs a fresh towel and gently pat your face, arms, legs, and body. honestly, the best person to be around with.

kaji

he panics but doesn't show it. when he receives your text that you aren't able to make it to your date tonight because of your sickness, kaji's heart drops to his stomach and freezes on the spot. if he's on patrol, his vice captains will look at him, confused as to why their captain is frozen in his place.

"kaji? what- HEY! where are you going?!"

he ignores their cries, running straight for your house. he makes a quick stop to the pharmacy and everyone's favorite bakery to buy some medicine and your favorite bread.

when he reaches your house, he knocks on your door, catching his breath while he waits. when you open the door, kaji sees your weak form barely holding yourself up to greet him.

"kaji? what are you doing here? aren't you on patrol right now?"

"wanted to be here... with you."

togame

he would be able to tell that you are sick from the way you're pausing when he asks you a question. you're in the middle of eating dinner with him, the usual plan, but for some reason tonight you've been acting a bit off.

not like it's a bad thing or anything, but from the way your cheeks are a bit red, togame can tell that you're not feeling well.

"baby, you okay?"

"hm..? yeah, i'm okay. why?"

"you sure?"

"um, i might be feeling a bit sick- but i promise i'm okay! we can continue our date after this."

"no, we are not," togame sternly says, quickly asking the waiter to ask for takeaway. "we're going straight home and you're going to be resting. we can continue our date there."

a sad expression appears on your face, feeling guilty the date ended early. togame notices immediately and immediately rubs soothing circles on your hand. "come on, don't give me that look, baby. don't be sad. 's okay, i don't mind staying at home for tonight."

[brucewaynehater101]

crack idea Tim ruler of worlds It's canon that YJ went to space a lot of times, Impulse even has an spaceship, so during one of those missions on space they accidentally help a planet to overthrow a tyrant, a simple mission they did in less than a week, but now the planet has no ruler and they have no idea what to do, so the citizens of the planet decide to ask YJ for help, i mean they saved them after all surely YJ would know what to do next. Tim who plays Civ V on max difficulty on 4x speed while solving cold cases, decides to rule their planet until they decide on a leader and a new government system, all he needs is a signal for communications to earth and he can visit every couple of months if needed ,after all how hard can it be? the answer is pretty easy, but Tim has a feeling that once his rule ends Civilization V will be really boring to him now, and he doubts it will matter that much, except other planets noticed, and apparently when you have a planet that belongs to you it's easier for those planets to get in contact when they need help, adn that's how Tim ends up ruling a small sector of space, he also played spore till the space stage so he knew how to handle multiple planets. Later when he get's control of Wayne Industries he understands how Bruce managed to pretend to be incompetent while being CEO, he only needed to remove a couple of shareholders and change a couple policies to improve efficiency, profits and employee satisfaction by 50%, it's honestly kinda boring compared to managing his planets. Lucius and a couple workers of WI are very much aware, that if Tim wanted he could completely rule the company with an iron fist, when they heard that Tim is planning to give it back to Bruce some of them seriously considered killing Bruce so that Tim continues as CEO. Meanwhile in a planet far away from earth some green lanterns save a planet that was under attack by yellow lanterns, the battle was hard on the planet, but they noticed that one of the lanterns was a human, they all knew of the prosperity, happiness and the protection that the planets ruled by red robin have, so they decide to ask for the human green lantern to contact Red robin if he was willing to rule their planet in exchange for helping it recover, surely this won't have any consequences.

This is such a beautiful crack idea I'm in love! The potential for chaos, the reveals, the long time secret. It's fantastic.

I am curious how many planets he ends up ruling by that point. Also, Starfire, Diana, Aquaman, and the GLs might insist that Tim be respected as the interplanetary ruler that he is. Suddenly, no one in JL can refer to Tim as anything less than a title of respect fit for someone of his position.

I'm also curious how Tim handled managing those planets while Bruce was gone. How did he keep that type of communication from Ra's?

Add onto Tim's ruined reputation with the JL (if you want extra spice)? What if someone tries to recommend that the JL takes over leadership for Red Robin due to them believing Tim can't handle it despite the many years he's not only led but brought the planets prosperity? That JL member is insisting on an action that will bring about war.

Just so much possibilities and chaos it's delicious. Thank you!

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Cold as ice

a/n I honestly hope you all will cry the way I cried writing this because now I genuinely need four to five business days to recover. Because never have I actually needed to take a minute to sob in the middle of writing.

summary: what happens when Ellie stumbles upon a memorial that turns out to have both your and Joel's kids names on it. When the past pain is brought back to the daylight even the coldest of hearts finally break.

warning: pain and suffering first and foremost, tissues ain't included. Blood, wounds, shooting, killing, multiple death, loosing your kids.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Ellie had slipped out of the shower. She hated being separated from you and Joel. So the fact that you walked away from her, leaving her with Maria, didn't sit well with her whatsoever. You had hugged her tightly before leaving, promising to be back as soon as possible and that you three would eat dinner together as you always did.

She had gotten extremely close to you. Yet there was something in Joel's eyes when he watched you hug Ellie that told her that there was more than you two let her know. She was aware that you two had been together long before the outbreak; she assumed you were married from the bent ring that was on your finger. But besides that, she knew nothing. Well, that you could handle Joel's shit the best of anyone Ellie had met.

She had seen and heard Joel mumbling in his sleep. Watched you rub his back with a sad expression on your face. And the same went for you, just when your nightmare hit - they hit you hard. Ellie had been woken up by your screams in the middle of the night. Joel's calm voice tries to make you calm down. She had only once turned to look at all of this unfolding; most of the time she just pretended that she was fast asleep. "Don't let them, Joel", you cried, "Don't", "I'm so sorry", Joel would sway you from side to side. His own eyes glossed over with tears. "Should have let me die instead. I should have died," you choked out, clenching the shirt Joel was wearing. His face looked stone cold as you clawed at him, sobbing.

Ellie never brought those nights up. If she teased Joel for speaking in his sleep, she had never said anything about your nightmares out loud. After nights like that, she would shimmy closer to you. Making sure she would be holding onto your hand more often or just hugging you every moment she could. Ellie couldn't help the feeling inside her that told her that you needed her.

Ellie hurried down the stairs, zipping the pink jacket she despised solely because of its outrageously girly color. Maria had left the note that she was just across the street, and as much as Ellie enjoyed being alone. She needed to kill time before you two came back. Plus, being away from you made her rather uneasy. She knocked on the door a couple of times. Yet no one answered. After more failed attempts, Ellie just let herself in. "Maria," she called out, stepping into the hallway. The house looked nice and was well lived in. Ellie had never seen anything like it. Even the smell seemed homely. She stepped into the living room, where the fire was crackling in the fireplace. Her eyes fell onto the three names written down with white chalk, surrounded by candles. Kevin, Sarah, and Malakai. Ellie couldn't help but frown.

"Ah, good, here you are. Try it on," Maria said, making Ellie jump as she turned away from the bored and took the coat from her hands. "Well, it's super fucking purple," "Eggplant, fits well?", Maria questioned, and Ellie nodded her head. "Who's been cutting your hair?", Ellie gave the woman a crooked look. "Am… world-class salons," she sassed back, making Maria let out somewhat of a chuckle. "I'll go get my sizers," Ellie argued immediately, but Maria stood firm, "Just the ends I promised."

The sound itself made Ellie cringe as she held onto the side of the chair for dear life. She hated this. Hated getting her hair cut. "I saw you looking at the memorial Tommy made", Ellie swallowed hard once Maria spoke up once again. She hoped this wouldn't be brought up, but then again, she was snooping. "I'm sorry about your kids," Ellie choked out, thankful that she didn't have to look her in the eye. Maria's movements stopped. "It's okay and kid. Just Kevin. Sarah and Malakai were Joel's and Y/N's kids", and a cold shiver ran down Ellie's back. Kids. You two had kids and lost both of them. "I'm sorry, shouldn't have said anything", "It's okay, it… It explains Joel's behavior and why Y/N…", but her voice died down. Maria didn't need to know about your nightmares.

"Look, I won't ask you what you are doing with them, especially Joel…" "Good," Ellie bit back. "You need to understand my concerns", Maria walked right in front of her, but Ellie only glared her way, "Be concerned about your husband, who did the same shit, if not worse". Maria let out a surprised sigh, "You have one hell of a mouth," and Ellie quickly stood up, shrugging off the towel that was over her shoulders, "And you are one hell of a sister-in-law if all you can do is throw shit at Joel." The adrenaline rushed through Ellie the moment the words slipped past her lips. She didn't regret them, but at the same time, she knew she shouldn't have. It was, however, too late. So she quickly stormed out of the house.

Her breathing picked up as she ran. Quickly slamming the doors behind herself. "Ellie?", your voice rang through the place, and she almost sank to the floor with relief. Like a lost animal, she darted towards the kitchen, meeting you midway as you stepped out into the hallway. Throwing her arms around your torso as she pressed herself closer to you. You couldn't help but frown as your hands ran through her hair. Confused as to what had happened, "Love, you are worrying me. What's going on?" You tried to loosen Ellie's grip on you, but she just clenched your shirt tighter.

Ellie almost felt like she suddenly couldn't face you. She shouldn't have found out like that. So she quickly stepped back and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. The worry inside you grew even more as you watched her. "Sweet girl, should I go get Joel?", you asked, but Ellie quickly shook her head, only now realizing that this involved him as much as it involved you. "Okay, well, you know you can tell me anything. I can't help if I don't know what happened," you said, softly reaching for Ellie's hand. Just this didn't feel like anything. This felt like the biggest thing ever.

"I'm sorry," Ellie rasped out, "I wasn't… I didn't want to… but they had a memorial," Ellie cried out, and suddenly it all started to make sense. You moved to wrap her up in your arms once again, "No one is blaming you; you were bound to find out eventually." You ran your hands through Ellie's hair once again. With a sigh, you clenched the necklace that hung over your chest. "You want to know the story of me and Joel?", you asked, making Ellie look up at you with mixed emotions. You nodded your head, "Well, let's make tea and sit down somewhere more comfortable." You knew that this was going to be one painful set of memories to unlock. But she deserved it. She was part of the family now.

And what a journey it had been. You met Joel in a supermarket. Where he was frantically looking for baby formula. The baby he was supporting with one hand screamed bloody murder. "Hello," you said cautiously, not wanting to startle him any further. His helpless, tired eyes snapped your way. You could tell that he most definitely hadn't slept in more than a couple of days. If not his eyes telling you that, then his overgrown and unkempt beard did. This male was a mess. "Do you mind if I", you pointed to the bundled-up baby, "You're in distress, and they feel it. Babies are sensitive to emotions", Joel's shoulders sagged; it looked like your words had finally defeated him.

"Just stand here. If you even think about doing something to hurt her…," you looked at him with a knowing smile. Trusting your blood and soul with a stranger was no joke. Especially being a newly baked parent. Plus, fathers were already way more protective. Especially of their girls. You pressed your hand to the heart, "I'll stand right here, just want to help". Joel nodded his head. Dropping down the box of formula he was holding as he moved towards you, lowering the bundle into your hands.

Even with her face all red and screaming her little lungs out, she was so pretty. You gently rocked her in your arms, "It's okay, gorgeous girl. Why are you crying, love bug?", you cooed at her. Fingers carefully ran down her cheek as you wiped away her big tears. "Shhh, sweet girl, you've got your daddy all worried. We don't want that, do we?" The cries slowly died down, and her big, still-damp eyes stared right at you.

Joel felt like someone had sent this as a cruel joke. His wife, the mother of his child, should be doing this, not some stranger in the middle of the supermarket. "Grab the mixture on the second shelf, more to your right", your voice made Joel snap his head in your direction once again. "I assumed you were looking for a formula. So that one should do her good. Won't upset her stomach if she's also breastfed", Joel clenched his jaw at your words. No, Sarah was not. Her mother had vanished. She didn't even know what a mother was or what it would feel like to have one.

You sensed the tension. Slowly stepping closer to the male, one hand resting on his shoulder. "Don't take this as an insult because I'm sure you are an amazing father. But do you want me to pop by and help out while you rest a little?" You had an odd feeling that the mother wasn't in the picture. That he was all alone. And the baby wasn't older than a month or a bit more. If this man was juggling that alone. Well, that must have been hard.

You hummed to yourself as you fixed up a light dinner from whatever you managed to find in Joel's fridge. Considering the empty cardboard boxes all over the place, it's been a hot minute since he had a proper meal himself. Once he drove you back to his, you quickly ushered him upstairs. Telling him to take a bath and catch some sleep. You knew that he would have fought you on it. If only he wasn't running on the last bits of energy. And you weren't snooping, but while you were cleaning up the kitchen, you found an open letter. A letter you assumed was from Joel's wife. She had left them two without anything, not even a proper explanation. You knew it wasn't your place to judge; motherhood was tough. Not all women were built to be mothers. You had written down instructions for Joel. How do fix a bottle. What different formulas do get, and how to switch them up if Sarah got an upset stomach per se. You wanted him to know that he wasn't alone. Even if you two had known each other for less than a day.

Joel stepped down the stairs hours later. Beard trimmed, eyes less puffy. He found you on the sofa reading a book to Sarah. One of her tiny fists was wrapped around your finger as your soft voice filled the room, "Why are you smiling? Am I that funny?", you cooed at her, making Sarah let out a happy grumble, "Ah, we even lost the pacifier with all the smiling, huh," you pinched her cheek carefully.

Joel was lost for words, to say the least. This was how he saw his family. This was what he hoped he would come down to with his wife. A sob that had held up for weeks, now finally escaped his lips, making you turn his way in an instant. You carefully set Sarah down before approaching him. Opening up your arms in case he needed a hug but keeping a distance in case this was overstepping his boundaries. Yet Joel did fall into your arms. He mumbled out all of his worries and questions that had been bothering him. He had no clue what he was doing. How nothing made sense to him now.

That night, and the many that followed, completely transformed you two. You had practically moved into the Millers' house. You lived not that far away, but the apartment was small, and since the job, you had only managed to cover the rent costs; you were barely getting by as it was. Joel needed someone to look after Sarah while he worked, so having you in the house solved that issue for him. But with each passing week and more, you three fell into somewhat of a routine, and you couldn't help but notice how right this all felt. You always wanted to be a young mom anyway. Sure, the baby wasn't yours, but that meant nothing to you. You cherished Sarah as if she was your blood and flesh. Joel loved that Sarah would grow up having you in her life. A true mother figure and did not doubt that as soon as his daughter learned how to talk, she would without a doubt refer to you as a mother.

Now, almost 12 years later, you still found yourself smiling every time you thought back at the time you and Joel came together, clawing through the struggles as one. "Morning", Sarah ran down the stairs, quickly coming to kiss your cheek as she moved to grab plates for everyone. "Morning, darling, is your father awake?", "Banged on the door loudly, but he's getting old wouldn't be surprised if he didn't hear", you let out a chuckle at her words. She often teased Joel about getting old. Especially now that his first gray hair had sprouted.

"Is Momo up?", Sarah asked, missing the sight of her brother in the kitchen. You turned to the living room, "Tommy is watching cartoons with him." Malakai was a surprise baby, to say the least. You and Joel weren't trying to get pregnant, but at the same time, you weren't always all that safe when it came to sex. When you feel pregnant, you generally couldn't help but have the fear of Joel walking out on you. Yes, you two had gotten engaged not that long ago, but the conversation of having kids together was never a thing.

Yet Joel didn't do anything but cry once you told him. He wrapped you up in his arms as you two swayed in the kitchen at two in the morning, where you had waited for him to return from his shift. "Tell me again; I still can't believe it," he muttered into your ear for what felt like a thousand times, "I am pregnant with your baby." Joel shook his head still, "Baby Miller..", he let out a breathy laugh. Hands coming to hold his head. With you? A baby with you? The most amazing woman on this earth. He surely didn't deserve it, but he was more than grateful for it.

"I know we might get tight on money. I do want to work till I get too big..", you blurred out, letting your biggest worries out. Joel quickly cupped your face, "Don't you worry your cute head about that. I will take more shifts, and we will be fine", yet you still frowned at him. You didn't want him to work any more than he already did. It felt wrong to let him carry the income burden on his own. "I can still work", "I will only agree to that if you are feeling one thousand percent sure that you can do that. I would much more prefer you stayed at home." You did figure it all out, as you always did. Sarah was over the moon to get a sibling, and now more than ever, this felt like a family.

Joel hurried down the stairs just as Sarah came back with Malakai in her arms. Your husband quickly leaned in to kiss you as he grabbed a cup of coffee. "Birth-a", Malakai clapped. Sarah leaned in to whisper something into his ear once again. "Daddy Old," he said happily, making you let out a laugh, especially when that proud smirk painted Sarah's face. Joel shook his head, "I'll send Cooky Monster after you two. Come here and hug me, you crazy bunch." Watching your kids wrapped up in Joel's strong arms always made you feel some type of way. He was the best father a child could ask for.

"No pancakes?", Sarah grumbled as she looked at the scrambled eggs in front of her, "Frown at your father, he forgot to buy it". It was a tradition to have pancakes on birthday mornings. One that all four of you took very seriously. But with the job load only getting bigger, you couldn't blame Joel for forgetting to get it. "Will we at least get the cake?", "I'll buy one on my way home, I promise," Joel said, scuffing down the egg. Sleeping in meant more rushing, especially when he still needed to drop Sarah off at school.

"Good cause it would be a shit birthday if we didn't at least get that", she said in frustration, "Language young lady", you nudged her shoulder. "Your shirt is insane out, handsome", you pointed your fork Joel's way as he dropped the empty plate in the sink. "No, it is not," he argued, looking down, "Dad, you are seriously getting old," Joel grumbled while taking off his shirt. You moved to feed Malikai, trying to hide your smile.

"You and I, tonight after the kids are asleep. I have special plans with you", Joel cupped your face, leaning in to kiss you a couple of times. "Gross!", Sarah shouted from the hallway, making you two laugh. "Don't make promises you can't keep, Miller", you packed his lips one more time. God, was letting go of this man hard. "I know what I am still capable of," Joel teased back, making you raise your eyebrows, " I'll be the judge of that tonight, sir."

You three had already eaten dinner. Malakai had been sleeping on your chest for quite some time. Sarah dozed off slightly as you waited for Joel to come home. He was late. That, of course, upset Sarah. You wished it was different. That she would see more of him. You hoped that now that you had landed a pretty good job deal, you could balance it out. That Joel could be home more often, and the kids wouldn't have to miss him that much.

The sound of the keys jingling made you stir as you noticed Joel walking into the living room. He was tired, as always. Sarah stirred from beside you. "You're so late," she mumbled, leaning more into you as you ran a hand through her hair. "I know, baby girl; I'm so sorry." Joel kneeled in front of her, carefully tickling her side in hopes to make the grumpy go away. "Did you at least get the cake?", Joel cursed under his breath. All the way home, he knew he had forgotten something, but it only hit him now. "Are you for real, dad?", "I promise I'll get the biggest cake I can get for you all tomorrow."

Sarah looked up at him, letting out a sigh as she reached to wrap her hands around her father's neck. Joel pressed her close to his chest, holding her just a tad harder than most evenings. "I got you something but it's upstairs", she said rubbing her sleepy eyes. Once she had disappeared from the room, you turned to Joel. "I'm so sorry for messing it up," he muttered, sitting down next to you. "Jokes on you, you messed your birthday up." You leaned closer to him. Malakai grumbled in his sleep, his eyes opening for a moment. The sight of his father finally being home made him reach for Joel. He instantly scooped the boy up, pressing a loving kiss to the top of his curly hair as he rocked him a couple of times. Malakai eased into sleep immediately. And you weren't too surprised about it—the warmth Joel carried was enough to make anyone fall asleep within seconds.

"Open up," Sarah said as she handed Joel a box. He shook it a couple of times, trying to inspect it without seeing it. "I know it was laying in your drawer for some time now", "Where did you get the money for it?", Joel looked at the old watch that he had to give up on years ago. "Drugs," Sarah said casually, making you let out a laugh that Joel joined soon after. "I think you got mugged, though it's not ticking." Joel pushed the watch to his ear, and Sarah's face paled as she moved to grab it out of her father's hands. The sound of ticking filled her ears, making her roll her eyes and say, "Not funny, dad."

You moved to wrap your arms around her, dragging her onto the bed with you. She would be sandwiched between you and Joel. "How about a movie, and then I'll tuck my two gremlins into bed", Sarah playfully hit Joel's chest, "Mom, will fall asleep within minutes", she turned to watch you already almost dozing off. "I won't say I won't, but I'm giving you ten minutes, and you will be out as well", you hugged her closer, eyes falling onto Joel who looked down on you two fondly.

"If I knew what was going to happen that night… I would", your voice died down, "I don't even know what I would have changed, but I wish I could go back, you know? To try to do something differently", Ellie looked at you. If you had let yourself smile a little at the thought of the happy memories she knew that now was the time when the real shit was going to go down. Ellie inched closer to you. Leaving her cup on the table as she took a hold of your hand once again.

"I have four civilians by the river," the male said sharply into the radio. "Joel," you whispered, pressing Momo closer to your chest as your breathing picked up. Joel wished he could reach for you and hold you close as well, but he knew that now that was impossible. "We'll be okay, love. All of us will be okay," Joel whispered, his eyes not leaving the soldier in front of him. "Uncle Tommy," Sarah whispered, looking between you and Joel. "We'll get you two and mommy somewhere safe, and I'll go back to look for him," Joel said as calmly as he could, pressing Sarah even closer to him.

The soldier lifted the gun, making you shake your head. "We're not sick", Joel managed to say before the shots rang out. Everything that happened after that was a blur and a slow-motion movie at the same time. The fall off the curb. The cries from Malakai rang out even louder than the bullets. You fell right beside Joel, your hands clinging to the boy and pressing him closer to you. The light from the gun made you close your eyes once again. "I'm sorry", you heard the soldier rasp out, "No, please", Joel exhaled, moving as quickly as he could to shield your body with his own as yet another shot fired. Joel's hand pressed down onto you tightly, not even letting go when the sound around him died down.

"Oh god", Tommy's voice made Joel lift his head, turning his attention to where his younger brother was looking. And there was Sarah. Her breaths were shallow as she pressed down on her side, which was bleeding heavily. Joel felt as if his world stopped for a moment as he crowed towards her. "No… no," Joel breathed out, "You're okay, baby girl, you're okay." His eyes fell on the wound that was pouring out bright red blood. "Sarah", you called out, inching towards her, gasp leaving your mouth as you saw just how bad it was. Joel tried to move her up, but Sarah only screamed out in pain, "I know, baby, I know. I need to help you up."

Joel's eyes were on you as you sobbed by Sarah's side. Hands were now just as soaked as his with sticky blood. Joel looked at Tommy, who was holding Malakai, then back to Sarah, who was gulping down air. He couldn't let his baby die. Not here. Not now. Not his little girl. Not his butterfly. Joel pressed his palms to the shot wound harder, making Sarah roar in agony, "I know it hurts, but you will be okay". You brushed your hand over the side of her face, not trusting your words anymore.

"Tommy, help me!", Joel shouted, but once he turned his attention back to his brother, his breathing stopped. Your eyes followed Joel's gaze. Eyes grew wide at the sight of Tommy standing there with a gun pointed at his head. Malakai being dragged away by another soldier. You quickly rose to your feet. "Give me my boy!", you shouted. No longer sounding like yourself. More like a wild animal out for blood.

"That's a child. Are you going to kill a child?", you stepped closer, but only got met with the back of the gun hitting your back, making you fall back to the ground. "Please, please, I'll do anything," you croaked out, pulling yourself up as you watched the soldier stop in its tracks. The boy in his arms reached out to you as he cried. The soldier let go of Malakai, and for a split second, a rush of hope flowed through you. He was going to come back to you. Your baby boy was going to be okay.

You reached your hands towards him as he took wobbly steps towards you. "Come here, baby, come here, Momo," you called out, barely being able to see through the tears streaming down your cheeks. "Mama," he cried out, making you nod your head. And then the shot rang out. The sound that you knew was going to hunt you for the rest of your life. You saw the bullet pierce Malakai's head as his body sagged to the floor.

The scream that fell from you was far from human. The pain that pierced you was as outrageous. You quickly moved forward, ready to kill the man who had just killed both of your kids cold-heartedly. You didn't make it far as two hands quickly pulled you over to the side. Turning you away from the lifeless body of the toddler.

Joel knew he had to get to you before you joined the kids on the ground. He held onto you for dear life as you trashed in his hands, "I will fucking kill you, do you hear me? I will rip you to pieces, you fuck," you screamed, trying to get loose and out of Joel's embrace. "Let go of me, let me kill him," you spat, nails digging into Joel's arms as you tried to push them away. "I've got you; you need to breathe." His words made you stop. You looked him in the eyes for the first time that night. Another sob escaped your lips as you sank to the floor, hands ripping at the skin of your chest, "Kill me, let me die, I don't want to live", your words were broken in between harsh intakes of breath. Joel shook his head once again, wrapping his arms around you, "I need you, please, I need you".

The sound of the door closing made you jump. You had no clue when you finished telling the story. You don't remember zoning out. Ellie was still holding your hands, her own eyes puffy from crying. Joel stopped in his tracks. The sight of him was not something he imagined coming home to. Your face was pale. Streaks of tears are still visible on your cheeks. Ellie didn't look any better. "What happened?", Joel quickly closed the distance between you. "Did someone hurt you? Are you hurt?", he took a hold of your trembling hand before turning to Ellie. "I…", she started, but the world failed her. The panic inside Joel only grew.

"Ellie found out about Sarah and Momo," you whispered, closing your eyes in hopes to stop the tears from falling once again. To the sound of the names, Joel's jaw clenched as he sat down on the table that was behind him. "I'm so sorry. I just saw the memorial." Joel only shook his head. "I swear I didn't", "Ellie," Joel said firmly, making her stop.

He knew this day would come. He might be half deaf, but he wasn't blind. Joel knew that Ellie was up most nights when you would scream. And was quite surprised that she hadn't yet brought this up in any way. But then again, she wasn't a stupid girl; she knew her boundaries. You rose to your feet, and Joel was quick to steady you, yet you brushed his touch away. "I need some fresh air", "I'll come with you", Joel insisted, but you shook your head, "I want to be alone for a moment". He was going to fight that choice, but by now he had grown to understand that in moments like this, letting yourself feel it out alone, at least at the beginning, was the best option.

Ellie couldn't bring herself to look at Joel as she fidgeted with her fingers, "I didn't mean to…", "I thought I was going to lose her after it all", Joel's words took Ellie by surprise. She quickly turned her gaze toward him. Joel was staring blankly at the wall in front of him. "She did everything she could to die. I didn't sleep; I couldn't. Was too afraid that I would miss something, won't be able to stop her", he exhaled sharply, hands coming over his face for a second.

"You had the biggest impact on Y/N. I saw her smiling for the first time in twenty years when you came by", Joel shook his head. Ellie couldn't utter a single word as he continued to stare at him. "I never meant to hurt you," "You never did. I feel the safest with you. I love you both as my parents. You have been the closest thing to a family that I've ever had," Ellie blurted out quickly. Joel turned to her, his eyes glistening with tears. "I won't let anyone hurt you," Joel whispered, clenching his jaw. Ellie fell into his arms, wrapping herself around his torso. "I know because you've never let anyone down, and you're not about to start doing that now."

[edenesth]

The Way to His Heart [5]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

Part 4 | Fic Masterlist | Part 6

"She's severely malnourished, and the injuries on her body tell us that she's undergone quite the abuse, seemingly for years. But I assume you already deduced that much, yes?" Yunho stated as he turned to your husband.

Seonghwa nodded grimly, "Yes, unfortunately. Is there anything you can do to help with all the marks?"

"Given the lack of proper treatment for so long, most of her wounds have only worsened, resulting in permanent scars from various infections. I'll do my best to treat as much as I can, but please understand that I won't be able to eliminate most of these scars." The physician explained, not wanting to give the general any false hope of restoring your skin back to its original form.

Thankfully, Seonghwa wasn't naturally inclined to optimism, and he didn't care to entertain the idea of a miracle. He sighed, "I understand, Yunho. It doesn't matter to me if the scars remain, just... make all the pain go away for her. That's all that matters."

Though possibly surprised, Yunho didn't reveal it in his expression. That might have been the sweetest sentiment he had ever heard from the general. He nodded, "Very well. I'll need a few tools and herbs to prepare her tonic and ointment. Should I stay in the usual quarters until my work is complete?"

Eager to see her mistress recover quickly, the head maid was ready for action. She stood up as soon as her master addressed her, "Eunsook, you know what to do. Organise a team of servants to assist Physician Jung with everything he requires and prepare his usual accommodation."

Without having to be told twice, she swiftly moved to leave Seonghwa's room, "Yes, master! Please come with me, Physician Jung." The general watched as everyone exited his private quarters, leaving him alone with you.

Bringing a chair beside the bed, he seated himself next to you and mustered the courage to hold your hand. Gently rubbing his thumbs over your skin, he felt a pang in his heart, realising that it was far from how the hand of someone your age should be – smooth and flawless. Instead, it bore the marks of what he could only imagine as endless pain.

Reflecting on the unfounded accusations he had hurled at you after your sincere expression of gratitude during dinner, he wished he could turn back time and retract his words, if only it were possible. As if your life hadn't already been hell, he had only made it worse for you.

Suddenly, the notion of you being genuinely happy with The Cold Palace didn't seem so far-fetched. After all, who could fathom the inhumane living conditions you had endured for all those years? However, this realisation brought him no comfort; the fact that your life back in the Jang estate was so bad that you had to express gratitude for being given such a place was heartbreaking.

Seonghwa was jolted from his thoughts when he sensed your weak hand squeezing his. Looking up, he noticed your anguished expression as you cried in your sleep, your voice brokenly uttering, "I'm sorry..."

He felt his heart clench at the sight, prompting him to move and sit closer to you on the bed. Lifting his free hand, he gently wiped away the tears streaming from the corners of your eyes down your cheeks, "Hey, it's alright... You're safe now." He whispered, returning the soft squeeze to your hand.

As if aware of his presence, your eyes snapped open in alarm, and a whimper of fear escaped you as you saw him. For the first time in a long while, the general found no satisfaction in the fear reflected in someone's eyes. You gasped upon realising that the lifeline you were clinging to was him, noticing your hand in his.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" You cried harder when you realised your marks were still fully on display. Pulling your hand away from his, you grasped the sheets around you and clutched them close.

Despite the disappointment he felt at the absence of your hand, he didn't have time to dwell on it with your little panic attack. To ground you, he cupped your face with his hands, "Look at me," and you complied, your trembling eyes meeting his gaze, "Stop apologising and tell me what it is that you're sorry for."

"I-I'm sorry for all this," You gestured miserably to your own body, "I'm hideous. I'm tainted. I'm n-not good enough to be your wife, a-and I never will be. I-I don't deserve happiness... I was foolish to think I could find it h-here... with you."

Shaking his head, he caressed your hollow cheekbones, staring firmly into your eyes, "No, you listen to me. Never think that again. I forbid you from believing you're hideous or tainted or anything ridiculous like that. Whoever dares say you're not good enough to be my wife can go to hell because you're the only one I want. You deserve all the happiness in the world, and I will give you just that. You're not foolish to think that. I'll prove it to you."

Leaving you speechless, Seonghwa wrapped his arms around you before you could muster a response, pulling you close. The sudden warmth felt foreign but good, and you nestled your face into his broad shoulder, allowing yourself to relish the moment.

Am I dreaming? Feels too good to be true.

Marvelling at the luxurious interior of this beautiful room, you couldn't shake the feeling that this was all a product of your imagination. How could any of this be real?

The last memory you had was the general storming angrily into your room and ripping your hanbok open. After seeing you in your truest form, how could he have ended up acting this way towards you? It didn't make sense; he should have been disgusted and hostile. Instead, here he was, seemingly accepting you.

Exhausted from a lifetime of pain, you lacked the energy to question the reality of your situation. Even if it were just a dream, you decided to embrace it and savour the experience. On the other hand, if this was reality, you knew you had the rest of your life to understand his change of heart.

All that really mattered now was that the pain and the suffering stopped. If Seonghwa truly accepts you as his wife, the reason behind it doesn't seem important. You would simply be grateful for his kindness, or perhaps sympathy—whatever it was, you welcomed it wholeheartedly.

So long as there's no more pain.

With that decision made, you set aside the lingering questions in your mind and focused on how comforting it felt to be held in a warm embrace like this. A contented sigh escaped you as you whispered against him, "Thank you, my lord."

He responded by tightening his hold around your frame, gently cradling the back of your head with a hand, "No, don't thank me yet. I haven't done anything to deserve that from you. I've been horrible, the absolute worst. And for that, I'd like to apologise. I'm sorry, my dear. I promise you, I'll make up for it."

When you attempted to voice your protest, he halted you with a knowing shake of his head, "I know I may seem like an angel in comparison to the people who have... done all those horrendous things to you, but I won't lie and say that I'm proud of myself for the way I acted. You're important too, okay? You're the general's wife now, and I want you to remember that. I won't let anyone disrespect you again."

With a grateful nod, tears of relief welled up in your eyes. This transformed version of Seonghwa before you was a stark departure from the one you initially encountered. You didn't think he was capable of being so soft and caring, but you had no complaints; you could certainly get used to this.

"Oh, mistress! You're finally awake!" Eunsook exclaimed, standing at the room entrance with the physician in tow. This caused you and your husband to break eye contact. The general cleared his throat and averted his gaze, a faint blush tinting his cheeks when he realised the two had witnessed your shared intimate moment.

Yunho suppressed his smile and respectfully bowed at you, "Good day, Lady Park. I'm Physician Jung; it's nice to properly meet you." Blinking, you struggled to come up with a response, gaping at his handsome face.

While the elderly woman giggled at your loss of words, Seonghwa was less than amused at your reaction to the doctor's appearance. He scoffed lightly, finding it ridiculous that you were here gazing at another man after he had just poured his heart out to you.

How dare you be unfaithful this soon?

Upon catching the enticing scent of food, your eyes swiftly moved away from Yunho's face. Your face lit up as you finally noticed the bowl of piping hot congee in Eunsook's hands.

"Oh dear, you must be famished. With Physician Jung's help, we concocted this healthy meal for you. I know it's not very appetising, with all the medicinal herbs in it, but you must get better before indulging in tastier foods, alright?" She smiled encouragingly at you.

You shook your head as she approached with the bowl, "Not appetising? It already smells and looks better than anything I've ever had. Thank you for the food." You murmured, eagerly waiting as she fed you.

Unbeknownst to you, your innocent response had affected Seonghwa more than you realised, and it also surprised the physician. While Yunho had heard a bit about your situation from the head maid, he wasn't fully aware of the extent of it, and hearing it directly from you was truly heart-wrenching. That definitely explained the severe malnourishment.

The congee was gone within moments and Eunsook couldn't help but coo, "Well done, mistress." You bit your lip shyly, feeling embarrassed for devouring it in such an unladylike manner, but nothing mattered the moment the food touched your lips.

As if on cue, a group of servants arrived with a fresh set of clothes and bath supplies originally intended for you earlier in the morning. Turning toward the two men, the head maid bowed and gestured toward the door, "Master, Physician Jung, if you wouldn't mind stepping out. We shall bathe and change the mistress."

Yunho nodded, "Certainly, I'll be getting back to work then," and immediately excused himself, reassured to know you had finished your first sitting of medicine.

The general stood up from his spot, "Alright, Eunsook. I'll leave her to you for now. Take care of her for me." He said, moving to press a soft kiss onto your forehead. The action caused your eyes to widen, and all the servants internally squealed, shocked to see their master being so affectionate for the first time.

Your heart swelled as you watched him leave, his back suddenly seeming so reliable. It was hard to believe that he was your husband, yours. How lucky were you to be wedded to Park Seonghwa?

"Come, mistress. Let's get you cleaned up."

You observed with intrigue as the servants rushed around to prepare a bath for you, an experience you had never had before. However, as they began to assist in stripping off your clothes, you realised you had forgotten all about the marks on your skin earlier. Suddenly feeling self-conscious, you pushed the hands of the servants away and shook your head.

Reassuring you, they withdrew their hands with warm smiles, "It's okay, mistress. Please know we are all on your side; nobody here will disrespect or look down on you. You are now the official wife of General Park, and we will work our hardest to serve you."

The head maid nodded in agreement behind them, their sincerity deeply touching your heart, "Thank you for your kindness." You whispered, finally allowing them to help you out of your hanbok. They handled you with gentleness, and it took you some time to get used to it—finally not being manhandled like you always had been.

After they finished scrubbing you clean, the other maids momentarily left you alone to enjoy the bath, touched by your endearing demeanour—constantly expressing gratitude for every little thing. To them, it felt almost like caring for a child. Exchanging excited glances, none of them could hide their pleasure in having such a sweet mistress.

With your presence, perhaps the general's anger could finally subside, and the estate could experience some peaceful days. If only you knew the hope you had brought with your arrival.

Eunsook lingered in the background, cleaning and tidying up, while you played with the rose petals floating around the bath water. You couldn't recall the last time your life had been so relaxing, so peaceful. Turning to the elderly woman working nearby, you gathered the courage to ask, "This... this isn't a dream, is it?"

Setting down her supplies, she approached you with a motherly smile on her face, "I assure you, mistress, it is not. This is all very real. Perhaps the master's sudden shift in behaviour can be confusing."

She gently held onto your hand, "Trust me, he is actually not such a bad person at all. There's a good reason why all the servants here have been with him for a long time. Though he believes it is simply because of the good pay, it isn't. He just... has a hard time trying to express his feelings. Let's just say master did not exactly grow up living an easy life. He struggles to show his love because he has not been given nearly enough of it while growing up."

That sounds a little like me too.

Giving your hand a soft squeeze, she added, "And now, with you here, it seems we can all hope that things will change for the better, for master and for you, mistress."

"M-me? Better because of... me?" You whispered, returning the squeeze, and she nodded, "Yes, mistress. All because of you. You are our light and our hope. Thank you for coming to us. You're so important to everyone here, you know that? Never let anyone tell you otherwise."

You didn't realise you were crying until you felt a gentle touch as the elderly woman wiped away the tears rolling down your cheeks, assuring you, "No matter what happens, I promise you won't be alone anymore from now on."

Standing in the centre of the room later on, it almost felt like a dream come true as the servants attentively assisted you in getting dressed. For once, you felt genuinely cared for and respected, a stark contrast to your previous experiences at home, where most servants treated you as less than human.

Turning to face the mirror, a gasp escaped you as you gazed at your reflection, "You look beautiful, mistress. Master is going to love it." A servant exclaimed, admiring your natural beauty. Your eyes widened as you took in the pleasant appearance before you, surprised that despite the visibility of your scars, you could look appealing. It appeared that with proper care, hair, and clothing, you could indeed appear somewhat pretty.

I guess all hope is not lost.

"We'll be taking our leave now, mistress." The rest of the maids bowed in a line before you as they finished up. Panic crossed their faces when they saw you about to return their bows, and Eunsook stopped you in time, saying, "Oh dear, mistress! We'll have to work on that. Please remember you do not have to bow to any of the servants here, or anywhere, for the matter."

You nodded, "I'm sorry, I'll remember that next time."

She chuckled and shook her head, "That too, you do not need to apologise to us. We are here to serve you." The maids nodded to signal that the elderly woman was right, smiling encouragingly at you before bowing one last time and leaving to return to their other tasks.

"Now, there's still a bit more time before dinner. What would you like to do until then, mistress?" The head maid asked.

You blinked, realising you didn't know how to answer. You never had the luxury to do as you pleased; all your supposed spare time was spent rotting in your prison cell of a room. What did your stepsisters usually do? Right, make your life hell. That's what.

What do young ladies around your age do?

Suddenly remembering Eunsook's earlier words about having to work on what you should and shouldn't do, you perked up, "I... I wish to learn. I want to be a proper lady, to be a proper wife for the general."

You stared, puzzled, as the elderly woman tried to hide her cheeky grin, "Well, the master's study is full of all sorts of knowledgeable books. Maybe you can find something in there. Would you like to go there now, mistress?"

Finding nothing wrong with the suggestion, you agreed. The next thing you knew, you were left standing alone by the entrance to the study she had been talking about. She had explained that she needed to assist the physician with an important task before hastily disappearing.

Not wanting to be impolite, you knocked on the door and waited for a response, "May I please enter, my lord?" After a moment of silence, you knocked again, only to be met with silence.

Maybe he's not inside.

With a shrug, you cautiously pushed the door open. Your eyes widened when you immediately spotted Seonghwa seated at his desk, deeply engrossed in his reading with a slight furrow of his brows. Despite planning to leave, you found yourself rooted to the spot, admiring how attractive he looked, even when only sitting there.

As if sensing someone watching him, his eyes immediately shot up in alert, only to soften when he realised it was you. Caught off guard, you sputtered and bowed repeatedly, "I-I'm sorry, my lord! I didn't mean to spy on you or anything like that. Eunsook told me I could occupy myself with some books in here until dinner, and I—"

Too busy staring down at your feet, you didn't notice he had been making his way towards you. You gasped when his shoes came into view, looking up to find him right in front of you with a gentle smile on his face, "Relax, I'm not angry. You're welcome to spend time with me; I'd be happy to accompany you."

Looking at you closely now, his heart raced as he realised how stunning you appeared in this natural state, even more so than with a face full of heavy makeup, "You... you look beautiful, by the way." He remarked, watching with admiration as a blush tinted your cheeks when you quietly thanked him.

As you bit your lips shyly, he found it hard to look away, feeling a desire to kiss you that he had never experienced with any woman before, "M-my lord?" You stuttered, feeling flustered by the sudden attention he was paying to your lips.

With a hand outstretched, he cleared his throat and gestured for you to join him, "R-right, let me know what you're looking for. This is no royal library, but I'm sure I'll have whatever you need."

You gulped, shyly placing your hand in his waiting one, "I was hoping to learn more about lady etiquette. I... I want to be a proper lady and wife for you, my lord." His heart melted at that; despite the less-than-warm welcome he had given you, you were still willing to work hard and be better for him.

"Very well, come with me." Tightening his hold on your hand, he gently led you towards the bookshelves lining the side of his study.

As you passed by his desk, you couldn't help but do a double take at the reading material he had been so focused on just earlier. You'd recognise the Jang family crest anywhere.

"Wait, isn't that—"

Before you could inquire about it, Seonghwa was already in the process of tidying up the space and simultaneously putting the book away, "Sorry for the mess. Now, which area of lady etiquette did you want to start with first?" He asked, gesturing to the entire row of books dedicated to the topic.

"O-oh, I haven't really thought about that. I wasn't aware there were so many different areas. Gosh, I have much to learn..." You trailed off, your mind already reeling as you tried to figure out which area would be best to begin with.

He sighed in relief, successfully redirecting the conversation. His heart nearly stopped when he spotted the recognition in your eyes upon seeing your family records. The general didn't want to have to interview you in order to delve into your past; he didn't want you to relive any nightmares. More importantly, he didn't want to worry you by revealing any of the plans he had in store for your family.

« Preview of Part 6 »

Jongho entered his master's study that night, panting and puzzled to find the desk filled with books on... lady etiquette?

"S-sir?"

Seonghwa snapped up immediately, catching the assistant's appalled gaze on your books. He chuckled, "Oh, those are just your mistress' books. She said she wants to learn to be a proper lady and wife... can you believe that?"

Without himself noticing, the general had an almost dreamy look on his face as he smiled, lost in thoughts of you, unaware that he was letting it show on his face, revealing his affection for you.

"I see. I'm sure the mistress will no doubt make you proud with her studies soon." Jongho responded with a knowing grin, pleased to see his master being soft for a change, the intimidating General Park momentarily gone, all because of his wife.

Recalling his aide's purpose for being here this late, Seonghwa quickly turned serious, "Well, have you managed to find anything?"

The assistant immediately straightened up, moving closer to the general and lowering his voice, "I have, sir. With the funds you provided, I hired a private investigator willing to infiltrate the Jang estate. Fortunately, one of the older servants didn't take much to crack; she told him just about everything."

With a clenched fist, your husband asked for confirmation, "Well? Was it her father?"

Nodding, Jongho's expression turned grim, "It was as you assumed, sir. It was him, his wife, his stepdaughters, and even the servants. But there's... more. We've uncovered new information, the minister... he truly is despicable."

Sorry, this part took a little longer! Happy to report that I'm feeling much better! I was out all day with my family and immediately got to work finalising this as soon as I got home!

Thank you so much for 800+ followers! And as always, thank you for reading and I'm so excited to hear all your thoughts (or even predictions for what's to come😈), I promise I won't spoil anything in my replies! <3

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[christianbalesblueaddidas]

I have a prompt 🙋‍♀️👀 (a rlly long one). reader thinking noticing how Bruce always disappears/makes an excuse to leave at night (like on dates, events, or maybe while getting freaky (👀) he suddenly just gets up and goes like “oh sorry smth came up”) and he can never give a convincing enough excuse so she starts getting distant and cold coz she thinks he’s not rlly serious in the relationship and Bruce notices this and feels rlly bad but the reader only finds out why after she had to get rescued by him……. So yeah there’s my prompt yay!!!

I'm Sorry, Sweetheart

bruce wayne x f!reader

your boyfriend seems to hate being around you. it's time to give him a taste of his own medicine.

warnings: some smut in the middle, kidnapping, graphic language

word count: 3.4k

a/n: thank you for the request! i hope i did your idea justice.

Bruce Wayne is singlehandedly the most infuriating man you’ve ever dated.

Every week, you know him a bit more. Little by little, you get to know him — soul, mind, and body — more and more every time you meet. And it’s not the cute “let’s take this slow” type of getting to know each other. It’s the irritating kind, where you get to know more about him and his world and he suddenly takes it away from your hands.

Your first date goes smoothly enough, setting an expectation he can never reach since. Despite it being the bare minimum, you are happy he is there the entire time, physically and mentally. He never once looked at his cellular phone or his watch or a random clock in the room. It is just you and him and the company you share together.

On the second date, he starts off completely interested and later into the night, he inexplicably turns distracted — and almost anxious. He picks up his phone and says he has a call to make, he disappears into the corner of the room, then comes back to your table and tells you he has somewhere to go. Wayne Enterprises business. Ignoring your barely hidden disappointment and offense, you nod with a smile and tell him, “It’s alright, Bruce.”

Of course, he notices your hurt expression when he leaves. Even if you manage to hide your emotions well, Bruce is trained to notice it. To make up for that mistake, he invites you to a fundraising party. Frankly, it’s out of your league, but you can never pass up an opportunity to be with Bruce and to finally experience a fancy party.

Contrary to your expectations, it’s the most boring party you’ve ever been in, full of snooty millionaires and social climbers. You don’t know how Bruce endures this. You’ve read about and saw the models he brings — multiple at a time too — to his parties and you’re guessing that’s how. You push away the thought, not sure whether to be insecure that you can’t measure up to his models and actresses or whether to be proud that he chose you and only you to be his date tonight.

You stand in the far corner of the large ballroom at the top of his penthouse, subtly avoiding Bruce’s “friends” and thinking about him. And speaking of the devil, his arm snakes its way around your waist from behind. Despite him being so close and having his arm around your middle, his hand is flat and open, careful not to hold you in a way you won’t like.

“What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” Bruce whispers to your ear and you can hear the smile in his voice.

You roll your eyes in amusement and turn your head to face his. Your breath hitches — a bit too obviously and embarrassingly so — as you realize that you’re so close to him. However, you quickly recover and reply, “Isn’t that line a bit too overdone for you, Bruce?”

He shrugs a shoulder playfully, his full glass of champagne sloshing in the flute.

“It always works,” he says. “If it isn’t broke, don’t fix it. But how about I try another line?”

With a charming smile that makes you weak in the knees, his open palm grips your hip, just right above the curve of your backside. His smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes and his grip hesitant, almost like he isn’t very sure of himself or of something else. Nevertheless, you’ll fall for his charm anytime.

“You wanna get out of here?”

That single question brings you to his bedroom, which is almost the entire floor if it weren’t for the foyer to give him privacy from the elevator. You’ve never seen a bedroom quite like it. Floor-to-ceiling windows that display a view of Gotham, frosted glass panes around his bed for some semblance of privacy, and a sitting area beside it that looks over the city. It’s an apartment without a kitchen, which you’d be more astonished about if your breath weren’t taken away by Bruce’s slow kisses on your lips and your neck.

He has you on your back on the bed, silky taupe sheets like clouds under you. He hovers over you, his entire figure taking over your vision, his muscles hidden by a black Giorgio Armani suit and gray tie. His lips and tongue move languidly against yours like he has all the time in the world. He holds himself up by a hand beside your head and the other presses your thigh against his hip. His hand idly runs up and down under your dress, but never quite reaches anywhere near where you need him the most.

“Bruce, plea—“

You’re interrupted by his phone on the nightstand. Your head whips to the side, glaring at the screeching machine. Who the hell is calling during this time of night? Well, perhaps that’s what you get for dating a billionaire. Rich people are always eccentric.

He suddenly stiffens up and gets off you. A pang of hurt in your heart rings as you notice how quickly he gets up like he got burnt. Your brows furrow, confused and a bit offended.

“Who is that?” you ask and you can’t help the way you sound so jealous. You’re aware of the fact that you shouldn’t be — not yet — but the fact that you’re in his bed is making you more sensitive about your feelings for him.

“Uh,” he reaches for his phone. He looks at the screen. “It’s Lucius Fox.” Lie. “I have to take this. I’m sorry.”

He disappears into the bathroom to apparently take his call. In fact, it is just an alarm set with a ringtone to sound like a phone call. He feels especially bad about using you as an alibi, but his usual strategy to get out of parties that stretch on too late involve his dates.

Due to his playboy image, nobody questions when he leaves too early. He rarely sleeps with the women he invites to parties, and if he doesn’t, they never tell anyway because it hurts their pride to say that Bruce Wayne didn’t sleep with them. It never hurt him either. You, however, are different. He wishes he doesn’t have to use you.

He emerges out the bathroom with a regretful look on his face. You don’t know how much it also hurts for him to make you leave.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’ll have Alfred drive you home.”

“What is it?”

“Oh, it’s just work. But it’s urgent,” he replies and he almost winces at how uncharacteristically bad he is at lying to you.

“Oh, of course. It’s alright, Bruce.”

This time, you don’t hide your disappointment.

He tries his best to not abandon you every time you see each other. He scoots your meetups an hour or so earlier because Batman can’t adjust, not even for you. Then, he texts and calls you whenever he’s free and awake, giving you random updates that he doesn’t know make your day. His efforts reassure you eventually, and you’re no longer mad at his odd tendency to leave you so suddenly in the middle of the night or when it nears twelve. Now that you’re both content with how often you see each other and how often your nights don’t get interrupted, you’re both happy.

One day, you surprise him at his penthouse after work. It’s a random visit, to be frank, and you just wanted to watch television or do anything boring with him after you eat the dinner you have brought. What you don’t expect is that you’ll be on your back on his couch, stuffed full of his cock as the TV plays in the background, neither of you interested to watch it. No dinner yet either, but he's enough to make you full and wanting more.

Airy moans leave your lips as he thrusts into you, holding onto his broad shoulders by bunching up the fabric of his expensive shirt in clenched fists. It has never occurred to you that you’ve never seen him without his shirt off even during sex. You’ve always been too distracted to care.

Too distracted like right now. The stretch of him in your cunt is delicious, satiating your appetite in ways that no food or other pleasure could. His pelvis rubs against your clit and you cry out every time his tip hits that spot in you while your bundle of nerves grind against his firm body. With every grind of hips, you reach new heights on your way to orgasm.

Bruce is a sight to behold. His eyes half-lidded mouth parted, moans spill from his wet lips. His chocolate brown hair a mess on his head, a product of your hands mussing them up earlier while making out. His muscled chest heaves, pressing against your softer one when he inhales. When your eyes aren't rolling back, you love staring at him above you.

“I— 'm close,” you manage to mumble out despite being so cock drunk.

"Me too, sweetheart," he growls out, a lower register that sounds unfamiliar and familiar at the same time, considering that you've only heard this tone from him during intimacy.

Bruce has one ear for you and the other for the TV, even when he's already nearing climax. The television is now apparently showing the news. The reporter says something about a bank robbery organized by the Joker and—

His hips thrust roughly into yours out of instinct, shocking you and making you moan even louder. He doesn't go faster, knowing it doesn't quicken the job. He takes your legs by the crook of your knees and presses your thighs to your torso, essentially folding you into a position you never knew you can do. You let go of his shirt and tangle your hands into his already-messy hair. With this new angle, his cock reaches deeper inside of you.

"Bruce," you moan out, your eyes rolling back. "Oh, fuck."

You don't know that he's trying very hard to make this good for you while letting him have time to take care of the bank robbery. He doesn't want to leave you in the dust again, mostly because it'll be an asshole move and because you're both on the verge of orgasm and a hard-on isn't something to bring to a fight.

More importantly for him, he doesn't want to leave you hanging. He can't express his thoughts and feelings very well other than through gifts and sex, so he wants to show you how much he adores you, especially that he's leaving you again. He knows it isn't enough, but it's all he can do for now.

He leans his head down to kiss you, sloppy and all tongues. While you're distracted by his mouth and his cock, he reaches a hand down and rubs circles on your clit while he thrusts in and out of you.

He proudly watches as you unravel underneath him, masterfully played by him like an instrument made only for him. Your toes curl in the air as you stiffen up and relax. He swallows your moans with his kisses, eagerly drinking in your pretty noises. He helps you ride it out like the gentleman he is, still moving in and out of your pussy.

He follows suit, coming deep inside you and painting your walls white. A deep groan rumbles through his chest, eyes squeezed shut and jaw slack.

He internally curses when he realizes he didn't have a condom on and he's only lucky that you told him before you take birth control — and that you even allowed him to come in you. But still, he curses at his lapse of sensibility.

You come down from your high. Bruce is counting down the seconds and the minutes. He needs to be out of here as soon as possible to deal with the Joker. He slowly pulls out of you, come dripping down your flesh mixed with your wetness. But you can't even bask in the afterglow because of his urgent task.

"You alright, darling?" he asks breathlessly. He looks you up and down, surveying you.

You can only nod and hum in affirmation. Eyes half-lidded and gaze trained on him in a daze.

"You don't mind if I have to go now? Something came up."

Oh, how you hate that. Why does something always come up when you're in the middle of something?

"It's alright, Bruce."

That evening, Batman is too late to catch the Joker. When he gets there, he was already in his getaway car. He pursues him, leading to a high-speed chase around the city. However, the Joker has traps ready on the way. He should've known that he'd anticipate his presence.

Bruce comes home to you weary and frustrated. He takes it out on you, inexplicably being rougher than usual for your round two. You take it, enjoying it anyway. But still, something lingers in the back of your mind, a thought rearing its ugly head since the time he left — maybe even since a few months ago.

Is he not taking your relationship seriously? You should've guessed he wouldn't, you think, considering he does have a reputation. But you're optimistic enough to have thought that perhaps his reputation is mostly the work of the media. Even then, you can't deny the photos and videos you've seen of him. Perhaps it's true. He doesn't value you as much as you value him.

You don't talk to him since that day. You don't outright avoid him but when he doesn't reach out, you don't either.

He notices you distancing yourself from him. He figures that maybe you need some space, which is one of the worst decisions he can ever do when it comes to this situation. He has never been good with relationships.

It further upsets you. In your mind, he doesn't even care when you stop approaching him. He doesn't care that you're not seeing each other or even talking to each other much. He's only there if you want him first.

To Bruce, it's fine that you need space. It's fine that he doesn't get to see you as much as he wants to — at least, that's what he tells himself. Batman feels differently. His punches hit harder, the bruises he leaves much darker. Even though no one else knows about you and him, Gotham knows there's something upsetting the Bat more than usual.

He thinks about telling you his secret but that involves putting you in possible danger. No one else can know he is Batman. Not even you, not even if he cares for you so much. He'd rather distance form between you than tell you. He's got eyes on you, anyway.

You don't know how to go about this. It seems too presumptuous to barge into his penthouse. You're obviously not on that level of relationship to do so. A call is too impersonal. So, you don't go about it at all. You have never been good at communication.

You spend days constantly on the verge of tears, bottling up every drop of frustration you've felt ever since Bruce started acting suspicious around you. When you're at work, you stifle the urge to cry. When you're at home, you hold yourself back from calling him — and then cry. It's a vicious cycle and it hurts even more than when he leaves you.

Sighing, you insert the key into your car, more than ready to drive home after work. Suddenly, strong hands grab you into a beat-up black SUV parked nearby. You scream and flail, but nobody is around to help, or maybe they're too unbothered and selfish to care. This is Gotham after all; these things happen every day.

You can't see or speak, blindfolded and a duct tape covering your mouth. You can only hear what the kidnappers are talking about as they drive you to an unknown location. It's an isolatory experience and how you wish you were actually alone instead of tied up and blindfolded. Tears wet the bandana tied around your head as you quietly cry.

"Wayne would pay so much money to get that back."

"Would he? He has a new bitch every week."

"Lucky fucker."

"Hope not too lucky. I wanna get at least a mill from this bitch."

A loud bang from the roof of the car startles all of you. The driver slams the brakes, flinging you to the back of the front seat, a cry of pain ripping from your throat.

"Shit! It's Batman!"

"Fuck! I told you we shouldn't mess with Wayne! He has him in his payroll!"

The doors of the SUV open and the kidnappers hit you on the way as they rush out. You hear scuffling and punching and metal banging on metal and bones breaking. A sob escapes you despite you trying to keep your resolve.

"Don't let me see you again," a voice growls out. Then, what seems to be a body slams onto the side of the car.

Wait, that voice sounds familiar...

A rough material brushes your skin as — you assume — Batman rips off the tape on your mouth. A gasp leaves you, heaving in a deep breath. You hear metal ripping fabric and you can see again. You blink through your tears, adjusting to the light, which isn't much as you're in a lonely road in the middle of the night. Eventually, your limbs are free too, but you're still too weak to stand or walk.

Black surrounds his eyes due to his cowl and, with his armor and cape, he is completely shrouded in darkness. But you'd know those eyes anywhere. You'd know those lips anywhere. He can't hide even in darkness, his own domain.

"Bruce," you breathe out in relief.

Surprising him, you wrap your arms around his armored neck, pulling him close to you in an embrace. It's not the warmest nor most comfortable hug in the world, but the fact that it is him is what matters.

His eyes widen. How did you guess it was him so easily? Nevertheless, without missing a beat, his arms wrap around you protectively. His muscular form and dark cape warm you up and shield you from the world. He is relieved that his tracker works and alerted him at the right time. You're safe in his arms now.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, holding back another sob. You bury your face into the crook of his neck, the armor pressing onto your cheek.

Now, you understand. You understand all his sudden leaving, the odd hours he replies to your texts, his persistent drowsiness, and the random bruises. You feel like an ass for being cold towards him when he's risking his life every night for the city. Not to say that you like the idea of your boyfriend running around beating up criminals during the night, but the fact that he is so selfless while you aren't makes you feel terrible.

"No... I should be the one who's sorry," he says and there's a sense of hesitancy in it, like he has never said those words before in that order. Still, you detect his sincerity and accept it.

In a moment of impulse, you pull away from the hug only to rest your hands on his covered cheeks and to press your lips against his. You tilt your head, the hard nose of his cowl pressing against your cheek. The pain goes unnoticed, your mind more preoccupied with how much you've missed his lips on yours.

As his tongue runs through the seam of your lips, coaxing it open, he pulls away as though he remembers where you are. Almost to placate you for the loss of contact, he runs a hand down your hair, petting you like a doll, a faint smile on his lips. It's a peculiar sight seeing the Batman with an expression other than stony emotionlessness or rage. The fact that you're the reason why makes the butterflies in your belly flutter even quicker. It makes you feel special.

"I'm bringing you home. I'll be there when the sun rises."

For the first time, you're not dejected nor disappointed unlike the other times you've uttered those words as you reply with a small grin tugging at your lips.

"Alright, Bruce."

[aphrogeneias]

it's been seven hours and fifteen days —

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader (soulmate!au)

summary: it's new years eve, and as the year comes to an end, so do a lot of other things.

word count: 3.5k

warnings: fluff and a lot of angst. brief sexual assault (by an unnamed patron). a little bit of violence. mention of a gun (as a joke, very quickly). a cliffhanger. stobin (platonic with a capital p) appreciation.

author's note: it's been a long time, but the show must go on. i hope you enjoy it! <3 also, please don't hate after you're done with this, 'kay? pinky promise.

series masterlist

Steve and Robin surprised you with a visit right before New Year’s Eve of 1991.

Surprised isn't the word, in fact. They had both been dropping hints about coming over to see you whenever you'd talk on the phone for a few weeks then, especially since Eddie came back to your life. You were trying to not worry them, to not bring up the subject too often, but they knew you better than you knew yourself.

In the same way Eddie once knew you too.

On the morning of the 30th, you were woken up by several insisting knocks on your apartment door. Those were unexpected in themselves, since no one used to visit you. Especially at that time of day, after a long Sunday night shift. Your roommate was out of town for the holidays, and even then, it wasn’t like there were people coming in and out of your home on Monday mornings.

Mornings were for sleeping in and recovering from the buzzing in your ears left by way too loud live music — Linda would always say you'd all end up deaf, but you couldn't think of a better way of eventually losing your hearing — and standing on your feet since the afternoon. However, that particular Monday morning was different than any other.

Stumbling out of bed, you inwardly cursed whoever was bothering you this early, when you'd just gotten to bed. From the other side of the door, you could hear two people arguing. “Stop knocking! You've already woken up the whole building!”, one of them said, in a frazzled whisper-shout. The other responded, in an almost bored tone, “And she might still be asleep.”

You'd never yanked the lock open that fast in your life.

Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley, with bags under their eyes and bags on the floor by their feet, stood on your doorstep. Their matching smiles staring right back at you.

“What are you doing here?” You gasped, launching yourself forward, involving both of them with your arms around their shoulders in an awkward group hug.

“We were long overdue for a road trip to see you.” Steve sounded tired as he squeezed you back.

“The old Beemer almost didn't make it.” Robin commented as you pulled away.

“I’d kill both of you for surprising me like this on my day off but I'm too happy to care right now.” You were already pulling their bags inside and closing the door, leading them in.

“Can we take a nap first? I'd rather be killed while I'm well rested.”

The cold, early morning sun shining through the window curtains made that sight even more surreal. Robin already lying on your couch, and Steve sitting himself on the floor in front of it, resting his head on the seat. You smiled through the sleepy fog that still lingered behind your eyes.

“That can be arranged.”

They slept through the morning and a little into the afternoon, which gave you time to sleep too.

After you were all awake and they'd settled their luggage in your room, showered and changed, it was time for an improvised breakfast for lunch with whatever you had in your fringe. Frozen waffles, scrambled eggs and plenty of coffee.

You sat around the small, square table in your kitchen while you listened to them talk about everything, everyone, you'd left behind. About running into your mom at Bradley’s Big Buy, about the kids going to college, — and how Robin hopes Dustin never follows any of Steve's advice, much to his chagrin — about Robin’s life in the city and Steve’s struggle to let go of the past.

Some things would never change, even when they did most drastically.

You didn't speak about yourself, content in just hearing them talk, basking in their warm presence. Until Robin asked, “What about Eddie, huh?”

“Yeah, what about Eddie?” Steve repeated, trying to act casually while he filled his mug with more coffee. It was never his strong suit.

You sat back in your chair, crossing your arms. “What about Eddie?”

“Can't we ask how he's doing? How are the two of you doing?” Robin mirrored your position, grinning at you.

“There's no two of us, nothing’s changed in that regard, before you ask.” You sighed, “And Eddie… Eddie is doing great. The band is doing great, they're getting good traction with the public, the bar has been more and more crowded each weekend. It's just a matter of time until they get a better offer as a resident band, or from a label. I'm happy for him, for them.” You quickly corrected yourself.

“What about you? Are you happy?”

You couldn't help but smile at Steve's question. “It's bittersweet, I think. I grew used to having him around again, some days it's like I haven't even left, but I know it's got an expiration date hanging over us all over again. It's good to have him while I can, you know? I try not to think too much about it.”

“No use in telling him, then?” Robin finally breached the subject, you knew that was where they were trying to get all along.

You shake your head. “No, there never was, really. It's what I told you guys five years ago and it hasn't changed. Eddie doesn't want a soulmate, even if it's…”

“Not even if it's you? I really doubt that.” Steve interjected.

“Especially if it's me. Especially now, after everything I did. It's not fair to him.”

They exchanged a look then, one of those looks Robin and Steve shared that no one but then could really tell what it meant. It was enviable, really, to be that understood by someone. You once knew what that was like.

Before either of them could say anything, something shifted at the table. Subtle, like a soft gust of air, but you knew the feeling. You knew it well, and when you looked down between the empty plate of waffles and your barely touched cup of coffee, sat something that wasn't there a moment ago.

A woven leather bracelet, with a simple silver clasp. It was slightly worn, clearly well loved. There was no question where it came from.

You picked it up, letting it hang from your pointer finger.

“Is that… his?” Steve broke the silence.

A tired sigh left your lips from deep within your chest. “Who else could it be from?”

One more for the box.

As seemed like a pattern that day, you got woken up again, this time by the phone ringing.

Robin was sleeping in your roommate’s bedroom — because what she doesn't won't hurt her — and Steve was dead asleep, snoring on your couch. He didn't budge as you picked up the bright blue receiver from where it hung from the wall.

“Hello?”

“Did I wake you up?”

Eddie's tone did not indicate he was even a bit remorseful — you could practically see the dimples forming around his lips stretched in a charming smirk, his body leaning against the telephone booth.

“You didn't call me to ask that.”

Little did he know you had a matching smile on your own lips.

“You’re right. Jus’ wanna hear your adorable, middle of the night voice.”

“Asshole.” You scoffed, and if your face felt a little hot, you tried to ignore it. “What's up?”

“You wanna go help me put up some posters over on the Strip? Linda said we need all the marketing we can get for New Year’s, and I could use some help.”

“And your dear bandmates can't help because…?”

“Didn't ask them. I'm asking you.”

“Why? Missed my pretty face that much? You saw me yesterday, man.”

“Jesus…” He sighed, overdramatic and loud, as you'd expect. “Just get your cute butt over here, I'm waiting at the next corner.”

You giggled, again, not being able to help yourself. “I knew it.”

Most days, you liked to tell yourself you shouldn't get too attached. Eddie would soon be leaving again, on a tour bus to brave the country — with how much people they'd been attracting to The Deuce, it was only a matter of time until one of them was a producer scouting for their label’s next big hit.

You told yourself that, if he didn't leave, then you would. You'd done it once, there was no harm in doing it again.

You realized you liked lying to yourself more than you were previously aware of.

Lying to yourself was what you did when you were crammed into the passenger seat of Jeff’s old car, less conspicuous than the beat-up behemoth Eddie calls a van, scouring the city for the best spot to tack some concert posters. The late night radio tune the background of your laughter, inside jokes returning like second nature, the red string tightening around your pinky finger.

It was what you did when he held your hand to make you walk the streets faster, trying to cover more ground through the night, the same way that he used to when you played together. When he asked you to sit on his shoulders to attach posters to places higher than either of you could reach, and his hands rested warm on your thighs. When you ended the night at the same diner you did every morning, sleepy eyes meeting over hot coffee mugs.

Closer each day, still pretending to be far.

Holidays were never a busy time at The Deuce, which meant that the crowd at that New Year's Eve party was something you'd never seen before.

Being one of the smaller, lesser known clubs at the Strip, your parties were always a bit more inconspicuous. Smaller bands, smaller crowds, a lot less trouble. For some reason — and you suspected it was due to the news of a certain frontman’s charisma spreading through the city like wildfire — everything you expected was turned upside down this year.

Tickets were sold out that afternoon, and the bouncer had manager to squeeze in a few more people waiting in line. All pretty girls, of course. You had drinks to sell, after all.

The beginning of the night went as smoothly as you could manage. You got in earlier than usual, as did the rest of the staff, and by the time people started rolling in, you barely had time to greet Robin and Steve, who promptly found a place to sit further from the stage.

It was funny, seeing all of your old friends under the same roof again, even if it was just for one night. The boys came from backstage to say hello for a moment, and it was almost like being back at The Hideout again, with those same old drunks, and much less history between all of you. If you closed your eyes, it was almost like being there again.

If you looked closely, though, the strained smiles and awkward small talk amidst your closest friends and Eddie told you everything would never be the same again, not even if you tried.

A new year, a new life. Wishes to make, though yours was always the same.

You tried to shake that feeling, though, and concentrate on work. On the buzzing, electric feeling in the air, on the loud chatter and the music the DJ was playing in the background, on the eminent excitement for midnight to come.

Your wish happened to come out of backstage again that evening right before the band came on, wrapping one arm around your shoulder while you carried an empty tray towards the bar.

Your heart raced as he leaned closer, voice lowered for your ears only. “Do you see that guy over there?”

He pointed at a man sitting by himself, close to the stage — as close as he could get without getting into the crowd that was already forming in front of it. He looked like a mixture of Kim Fowley and a Ken doll, nothing too out of the ordinary for the men you saw regularly here, but he was definitely not a regular.

“Who is that?” You whispered back at him as you placed the tray back on the counter. Eddie remained there, with his arm around you, his body learning against your side. You could tell how excited he was by the wild grin on his face.

“He's here for us. Linda called on some favors with an old friend who knows people, and… voi-fucking-lá. We have an in.”

“Good luck, then.” You smiled, turning to fully look at him. “You're gonna need it.”

You were not expecting it when he left a lingering kiss on your forehead before walking away.

If there was a strange feeling growing on the back of your throat, you tried your best to ignore it. It stayed there as you watched Corroded Coffin perform what you thought was their best night there, their music rising and rising the crowd until they broke like a wave, manic guitars and heavy drums working them for their own pleasure.

It stayed until the clock struck midnight, and Eddie threw a kiss at you from the stage, and you pretended to catch it in the air and place it in your heart. Somehow, that felt more intimate than the dozens of couples kissing all around you.

All hell broke loose after the band left the stage.

The DJ returned, where he would stay until the bar closed, and as everyone scattered around the bar, it was the usual pandemonium you were already used to, but with much more people. The bar was busy, which meant you were busy, but not too busy to sneak a shot or two with Steve and Robin, or watch the former flirt with Heather behind the bar.

Eddie and the boys were all around, talking to everybody. It felt nice to see them in their element, especially Eddie with his big gestures and loud personality — he was right at home, there. It felt even nicer when you managed to cross each other, his hands always finding a way to touch you, to let you know he was there.

As good nights, though, that one also had to come to an end.

It started to crumble when you had a full tray of beers, and a man bumped into you. You tripped, but didn't fall, thanks to all the practice you'd had. The man grabbed your waist, then, harshly. “Whoa, there! Falling for me already?”

“You wish. Let go.” You responded, curly, already trying to escape. It wasn't the first time you dealt with one of these types, and it wouldn't be the last. Keeping your cool was the best you could do in a situation like this.

“Not yet. Let me show you a good time, baby.”

“I said let me fucking go.” You gritted through your teeth. Some people around started to notice, and it wasn't long until they started staring. His hands started to lower on your hips, whining some you couldn't understand through slurred speech, until you felt someone push the man's shoulder.

“She said let go, man. You heard it the first time.”

“Not right now, pretty boy.” He pointed at Eddie, and you saw an opportunity to pull yourself away, and didn't resist stepping on his foot, hard.

“Asshole. Get the fuck out of here.”

The man’s face grew red with pain, and anger, no doubt. “Bitch!”

You heard Eddie let out a bitter laugh before his face was flying at the man’s face, who upon impact, lost balance and barrelled into you again, but with full force this time, sending the beers on your tray flying, glass shattering on the floor, and beer spilling onto you.

It was like being in the middle of a hurricane. Eddie fought the guy, who was already on the floor, as the boys came running to drag Eddie away. Robin, with Steve on her tow, pulled a startled you by the hand and away from there. Her and Heather lead you towards Linda’s office at the back, but all you wanted was to look back.

In your haste, you'd left the door unlocked.

The bathroom inside the small office room was cramped, but better than the ones outside. Robin had offered to come in with you, but you wanted to cool off alone. She waited outside as you attempted to clean yourself, your black top hanging from the sink as you wiped the drink off your chest with paper towels.

Your heart still beating fast in your eardrums, though the adrenaline was starting to wear off, made you tremble a bit, a cold shiver going through your body. You didn't know if it was relief that nothing worse happened, or if it was the phantom memory of Eddie’s hands gripping your body close to his.

You sighed, looking at your disheveled self in the blurry, dirty mirror.

The door handle rattled behind you, and you answered without looking. “I'll be right out, Rob.”

“Buckley is outside with Harrington and the bartender chick.” There's a slightly injured hand, free of the usual rings adorning it, holding the door a few inches open, and a face obscured by overgrown bangs. “Can I come in?”

Through your daze, you made yourself a reminder to trim Eddie’s hair when you could.

Sensing his hesitation, you smiled as best as you could through your reflection, feeling too vulnerable to look back. “Yeah. Of course.”

Quietly, — too quietly for Eddie — he came in and the door clicked closed behind him, but he didn't move, staying still with his back against it. You realized he was probably trying to make himself smaller, as to not scare you even further. Your heart grew warm while your body still shivered.

“Is everyone alright?”

When you turned, you noticed you were mirroring each other's positions. Trying to stay as far as possible in that tight space, arms pressed to yourselves, as the red string between you pulled and pulled and pulled, strained to the point of breaking.

It didn't, it wouldn't.

“Yeah, they kicked the guy out. Uh… I kicked the guy out, actually, and the guys helped, but yeah.” He chuckled nervously. You couldn't see them, but if you had to guess, the tips of his ears would be bright red. “Linda threatened him to never come back with that pistol she keeps under her desk, you should have seen it.”

You giggled despite yourself, “Man, how could I have missed that.”

“Are you alright?” Big brown eyes stared at you from across the small room and, as they always did, disarmed you completely.

“I'm alright.” You turned again, reaching to give your wet top a thorough squeeze before putting it on again. “Didn't get hurt, just got wet…”

You forced a laugh, but Eddie didn't return the sentiment. When you looked back again, he wasn't looking at you anymore.

He was crouching, picking something off the floor. The ceiling light wasn't on, just the yellow one over the mirror, and you struggled to see what it was until he straightened himself up, shuffling on his boots. The first thing you noticed on his right hand was a silver chain, and at the end of it, a red guitar pick. It must have fallen while you took your top off in a hurry.

You knew it like the back of your own hand. It was slightly chipped at the bottom, the scaly red slowly losing its former glossy finish, the faded Fender logo at the center of it.

You knew he knew it too.

“Where did you get this?”

A hand stretched between you, like a long corridor in a dream. Just within your line of sight, but unreachable. The necklace hung from it, limp, its silver chain glinting in the yellow light of the flickering lamp.

When you didn't answer, Eddie’s voice hardened. “I'm not gonna ask again.”

Your eyes were focused on the red guitar pick, not on his face. You swallowed hard, “I think you already know.”

“No, I don't.” He emphasizes it with your name, and it hurts you to hear it. The atmosphere changed completely, then. “I lost this years ago after a show in Indy, but you were already gone. Where did you get it?”

Eddie's voice trembled with something you only describe as betrayal. There was grief too, somewhere in there. Your shattered heart ached, but you couldn't find it in yourself to say something. Anything.

“What have you been hiding from me?” He had never sounded this quiet. It scared you.

“Nothing you don't already know.” You mumble, staring at the floor. “Like I said, I think you already know.”

Frustrated, he stomps his feet, but you don't flinch. “Goddamnit! Just tell me. Tell me. I want to hear it from you.”

“So, you do know?”

Narrowed eyes met in the middle. The red string tensed, and bent — does it break? Could it, ever? Sometimes you wished you could snap it. For his sake, not yours. But all it did was stretch impossibly tighter, like the fist that closed itself around your heart.

“I don't…” Eddie's eyes glistened in the dark, whiskey dark, swimming in murky waters. “I feel like I don't know you like I thought I did.”

You broke first, approaching the door with trembling legs, like a deer in headlights. The two of you stared at each other closely for what felt like more than just a mere moment, unsaid things hanging heavy in the air.

“Did you ever?”

It doesn't break, but bends, and bends, and bends.

[twistiraki]

🎀The Twisted Wonderland housewardens save you from your bullies 🎀

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗ TᗯIᔕTEᗪ ᗯOᑎᗪEᖇᒪᗩᑎᗪ Characters Riddle, Leona, Azul, Kalim, Vil, Idia, Malleus x F!Reader Warnings bullying ‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗

The cold, oppressive atmosphere of Night Raven College bore witness to the relentless cruelty inflicted upon Y/n by the three Savanaclaw students. They were a toxic trio, reveling in the sadistic pleasure of tormenting the lone soul who dared to be different.

In the shadows of the twisting corridors, the bullies cornered Y/n with malevolent grins and whispered taunts. "Look who we have here, the little misfit," sneered one of them, his words dripping with disdain.

Y/n, a stoic figure determined to withstand the onslaught, clenched her teeth, refusing to give them the satisfaction of seeing her crack. The leader of the tormentors, a sinister figure with a twisted smile, circled her like a predator closing in on its prey.

"What's the matter, Y/n? Cat got your tongue?" another jeered, causing the trio to burst into mocking laughter. The echoes of their cruelty resonated through the desolate halls, amplifying Y/n's isolation.

Their torment wasn't limited to words alone; the bullies seized every opportunity to strip Y/n of her dignity. One day, they snatched her bag, rifling through its contents like scavengers pillaging a carcass. They tossed her belongings carelessly on the cold floor, savoring the sight of her distress.

On another occasion, the trio targeted Y/n during a public event, exploiting the vulnerability of the crowded space. They humiliated her with disparaging remarks, their malicious words cutting through the air like a relentless storm. Y/n, standing alone amidst the sea of indifferent faces, fought back tears, unwilling to grant them the satisfaction of witnessing her vulnerability.

The torment escalated when the bullies, driven by an insidious desire to break her spirit, attempted to steal Y/n's clothing. The malicious intent behind their actions was clear, pushing her to the brink of despair.

In that harrowing moment, as they tugged at the fabric that shielded her from their malicious intent, Y/n's defenses crumbled. The tears she had fought so hard to contain spilled over, marking her surrender to the relentless darkness that engulfed her.

The bullies reveled in their perceived victory, their laughter echoing like a haunting melody. Y/n, now defenseless and broken, sank to her knees, a shattered reflection of the person she used to be.

Yet, as the trio reveled in their malevolence, the distant echo of approaching footsteps disrupted their sadistic revelry… 

The cold corridors of Night Raven College seemed to intensify as the bullies' attention shifted from Y/n to the unexpected intruder, Riddle Rosehearts. The leader of the trio, emboldened by a sense of defiance, sneered, "What's the Heartslabyul housewarden doing, playing the hero? Is this your new pet project, Rosehearts?"

Riddle's stern expression remained steadfast, a protective shield against the barbs directed his way. "I'm enforcing the rules, something you three seem to have forgotten. Now, leave her alone," he retorted, his tone laced with an unyielding edge.

The bullies, undeterred by the stern warning, turned their attention to Riddle, attempting to humiliate him in the same manner they had targeted Y/n. "Maybe Rosehearts has a soft spot for misfits. Or is there something else going on here?" one of them jeered, a malicious glint in their eyes.

Riddle's gaze hardened, but he didn't allow their words to rattle him. Instead, he focused on Y/n, offering her his cape for warmth and comfort. "Ignore them," he whispered, his voice a soothing balm in the aftermath of the storm.

Y/n, still recovering from the emotional turmoil, met Riddle's eyes with a mixture of gratitude and curiosity. "Why are you helping me?" she asked, her vulnerability laid bare.

Riddle hesitated for a moment, his stern exterior cracking to reveal a hint of sincerity. "No one should be treated like that. Besides, it's my duty as the housewarden of Heartslabyul to enforce the rules," he replied, though the subtle inflection in his voice hinted at a deeper, unspoken truth.

As the bullies persisted in their attempts to tarnish Riddle's reputation, he remained resolute. However, the time for words had passed. With a swift and practiced motion, Riddle invoked his unique magic, "Off with your head," causing ethereal sparks to materialize and collar the bullies as a consequence for their actions.

The trio, now restrained by red head’s signature spell, looked to Riddle with shock and fear. He addressed them with an unwavering gaze. "Learn to respect others, or face the consequences," he declared, his authority unshaken.

Turning back to Y/n, Riddle offered a reassuring smile. "You don't have to worry about them anymore. Let me help you and walk you to your dorm," he said, a subtle undertone of warmth in his voice.

Riddle thought to himself that the bullies were right. He did have a soft spot for misfits. In particular this misfit. He had always liked Y/n. As they walked to Y/n’s dorm Riddle tried to hide his face, which was now as red as his hair.  

In the dimly lit corridor, Leona Kingscholar, the formidable housewarden of Savanaclaw, stood between Y/n and her tormentors. The atmosphere crackled with tension as the bullies, momentarily taken aback, decided to redirect their malice towards the imposing figure that stood before them.

"So, the sleepy lion decides to play the hero," one of the bullies sneered, attempting to mask their unease with false bravado.

Leona's emerald eyes narrowed, a low growl escaping his throat as he stared down the trio. "You've got a problem with how I do things?" he challenged, his voice a menacing rumble that reverberated through the corridor.

The bullies, perhaps underestimating the fierce resolve that lay beneath Leona's laid-back demeanor, stepped back. "Why are you protecting her? Got yourself a new little plaything, housewarden?" one of them jeered, a sinister grin stretching across their face.

Leona's expression darkened, his patience wearing thin. "I protect what's under my care. That's all you need to know," he replied, his words carrying an implicit warning that sent shivers down the spines of the tormentors.

Undeterred, the bullies attempted to taunt him further, their words laced with a futile attempt at intimidation. "Maybe you've got a crush on her, huh?" another one jeered.

Leona's growl intensified, his dominant aura radiating an almost tangible threat. "You're pushing your luck, buddy" he warned, his gaze flickering dangerously.

As the tension escalated, Leona stepped forward, looming over the bullies with an imposing stature that left them visibly unsettled. "Consider this your only warning. Cross me again, and you'll regret it," he asserted, his voice cutting through the air like a blade.

The bullies, realizing the gravity of their situation, hastily retreated, their bravado shattered in the face of Leona's unwavering dominance. As they fled the scene, fear etched across their faces, Leona turned his attention back to Y/n.

"You alright?" he asked, the harsh edges of his demeanor softening as he surveyed her. Y/n, still reeling from the confrontation, nodded silently.

Leona, surprising even himself with the depth of his concern, took a step closer. His hand gently cupped Y/n's cheek, his touch surprisingly tender. "I hate to see this pretty face upset," he murmured to himself, his voice a low, soothing rumble.

As the lion helped pick up Y/n’s stuff from the ground, the situation made him angrier and angrier. He’s going to make sure to teach those punks a lesson tomorrow morning during training.”Got yourself a new little plaything?” those words lingering in Leona’s head. Plaything. He scoffs at the idea. Y/n is so much more than that…

In the dimly lit corridors of Night Raven College, the relentless torment aimed at Y/n had attracted the attention of Azul Ashengrotto. As he intervened to protect her, the bullies, recognizing the charismatic housewarden from Octavinelle, shifted their focus to the unexpected adversary.

"Looks like we've got ourselves a hero," one of the bullies scoffed, a malicious glint in his eyes. The leader, emboldened by the presence of a new target, attempted to humiliate Azul. "What's your game, Ashengrotto? Trying to play the savior for this loser?"

Azul's gaze remained unfazed, his smooth composure undeterred. "I suggest you mind your own business," he retorted, his voice carrying a subtle warning. However, the bullies, now fueled by audacity, turned their attention to Y/n once more.

In the face of the renewed onslaught, Azul stepped forward, shielding Y/n with a protective stance. "It seems you're mistaken," he said, directing his attention to Y/n. "This isn't about playing the hero. No one deserves to be treated like this."

The bullies, sensing an unexpected vulnerability in Azul's defense of Y/n, attempted to exploit it. "What's the matter, Ashengrotto? You fancy this loser here?" they sneered, hoping to provoke a reaction.

Azul's gaze flickered, a subtle hint of discomfort betraying his composed exterior. However, he quickly regained his confidence, addressing Y/n with a more reassuring tone. "Don't pay them any mind. Let me take care of this."

Turning back to the bullies, Azul's expression hardened. "You might want to reconsider your actions. I have quite a bit of dirt on both of you, and I'm not afraid to use it. And let's not forget about the Leech Twins—they're always hungry for interesting tidbits."

The mention of the Leech Twins sent a shiver down the bullies' spines, their confidence crumbling in the face of potential repercussions. Sensing their defeat, they slinked away, leaving Azul and Y/n in the now empty corridor.

Azul turned back to Y/n, his usual confidence giving way to a more genuine concern. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice softer now. "Trash like them need people like us to torment, to make themselves feel better.”

Y/n, still reeling from the emotional turmoil, nodded appreciatively. Azul continued to guide her to the Mostro lounge, knowing she will be safe there. His touch was surprisingly gentle, a stark contrast to the commanding presence he displayed moments ago.

As they navigated the halls together, Azul couldn't help but feel a twinge of awkwardness. He was normally confident and composed, but Y/n's presence seemed to unravel his polished exterior. He knows all too well what it’s like to be treated like that. And the thought that Y/n had to endure the same thing made him want to protect her more. Like a precious pearl he can’t stand to share with anyone.

In the dimly lit corridors of Night Raven College, Kalim Al-Asim's radiant presence cast a warm glow that contrasted with the shadows of cruelty that clung to the bullies tormenting Y/n. As Kalim approached the scene, unaware of the tension, he couldn't fathom the depths of their malicious intent.

"Hey, what's going on here?" Kalim's voice echoed with genuine curiosity, a beacon of positivity in the oppressive atmosphere.

The leader of the bullies sneered, seizing the opportunity to redirect their malevolence. "Well, well, if it isn't the Scarabian sun himself. What's it to you, Kalim? Lost your little guard dog?"

Kalim chuckled, oblivious to their attempts at humiliation. "Nah, I was just passing by. Just got back from the pop music club. What's got you so worked up?"

Unperturbed, the bullies turned around to face Kalim, attempting to exploit the vulnerability they perceived in his sunny disposition. "Oh, look, he's trying to play the hero. Say, does the housewarden of Scarabia like this little misfit?."

Y/n, still reeling from the earlier torment, looked at Kalim with a mixture of gratitude and surprise. Kalim, however, beamed back, seemingly unaffected by their insinuations.

"What? Well, who wouldn't want to be friends with someone as amazing as Y/n?" Kalim responded, his sincerity disarming in its authenticity.

The bullies persisted, their cruel words attempting to chip away at Kalim's unwavering spirit. "Heh. Do you hear that, Y/n? There’s finally someone willing to put up with your pathetic act of a personality! I guess our little otter here is too stupid to see how worthless you are."

It was when they directed their malice back at Y/n, their words a venomous assault, that Kalim's carefree demeanor faltered. His eyes narrowed, the red glow dimming as a protective instinct took hold.

"Enough is enough," Kalim asserted, his voice carrying an unexpected edge. "You don't get to treat people like this."

Undeterred, the bullies persisted, casting disparaging remarks at both Kalim and Y/n. In response, Kalim maintained his composure, shielding Y/n from the verbal onslaught with unwavering resolve.

When the bullies continued to escalate the situation, Kalim took charge. "That's it. We're done here," he declared, his tone leaving no room for negotiation. He offered a hand to Y/n, helping her to her feet with a reassuring touch.

"Let's get you out of here," Kalim suggested, handing Y/n her scattered belongings. "If you ever feel unsafe, Jamil and I are here for you."

The unease in the bullies' expressions was palpable as they realized their words didn’t affect their targets anymore. Kalim's protective stance and genuine concern for Y/n had disrupted their cruel narrative.

As the bullies slinked away, annoyed by the outcome, Kalim escorted Y/n back to Scarabia. Their walk was filled with moments of comforting silence, punctuated by Kalim's attempts to lighten the mood with his infectious laughter. When Y/n finally gave him a smile back he perked up. “It’s so nice to see you smile again!” The sight gave him new confidence to land a kiss on Y/n’s cheek. 

Within the dark corridors of Night Raven College, the tormentors faced an unexpected obstacle in their pursuit of cruelty: Vil Schoenheit. As the charismatic figure stepped into the scene, the bullies exchanged uneasy glances, momentarily thrown off balance by the interference.

"Are you so starved for attention that you resort to tormenting others?" Vil's voice, laced with disdain, sliced through the air. His steely gaze met the bullies', challenging them to proceed.

However, their malevolence knew no bounds. Unwilling to be deterred, the bullies redirected their scorn towards Vil, attempting to humiliate him for daring to protect Y/n. "Look at this, the pretty prince thinks he can play hero. What, do you like the little misfit?" one of them jeered, the venom in his words aimed at both Vil and Y/n.

Vil, however, remained unfazed, ignoring their attempts to provoke him. Instead, he focused on Y/n, helping her up with a gentleness that contradicted the harsh reality they were facing. His fingers delicately corrected her clothing, fixed her tie, and smoothed her tousled hair. Vil's eyes met hers, a silent reassurance passing between them.

"Pay them no mind," he whispered, his breath brushing against Y/n's ear, a gesture that held an undercurrent of intimacy. "They thrive on our reactions."

The bullies, frustrated by Vil's indifference, resorted to physically assaulting Y/n, grabbing her by the shoulder. Before their cruelty could escalate further, Vil's hand shot out like a viper, gripping the offender's wrist with an intimidating strength.

"It's in your best interest to leave," Vil asserted, his voice low and threatening. "I won't tolerate such behavior. Choose wisely."

The bullies, now cowed by the unexpected turn of events, hastily retreated, leaving Vil and Y/n in the aftermath of their confrontation.

Vil escorted Y/n to his dorm, a haven away from the oppressive bullying that had sought to consume her. Inside his room, he offered her a seat and gently handed her a towel, his eyes reflecting genuine concern.

"Take your time," Vil said softly, his hands meticulously tending to a small cut on Y/n's cheek. "You deserve better than the cruelty of those einzellers."

As Vil carefully cleaned the remnants of the bullying, his thoughts betrayed the secret that he harbored in the depths of his heart. He cared deeply for Y/n, and every gentle touch, every word of reassurance, echoed the silent confession he dared not speak aloud.

"You deserve to be treated with kindness," he murmured. “Just make sure to stay by my side, Y/n.”

The dimly lit corridor was transformed into a battleground as Idia Shroud stepped forward, his normally reserved demeanor overshadowed by an unexpected fierceness. The bullies, accustomed to preying on the vulnerable, saw an opportunity to assert dominance over someone they perceived as even weaker — the introverted Idia.

"You think you can protect her?" one of the bullies taunted, a malicious smirk on his face. "What's the weakling going to do?"

Idia, his disheveled hair falling over his determined eyes, stood defiantly, shielding Y/n from the impending storm. The bullies, sensing a perceived vulnerability, closed in on the pair, their laughter echoing through the corridor.

"Why are you even bothering, Shroud? What's in it for you?" another bully jeered, the air thick with arrogance.

Y/n's heart sank, anticipating the onslaught of mockery that was about to befall them both. Idia, feeling the weight of their poisonous words, clenched his fists, his usual anxiety exacerbated by the confrontation.

"Why would someone like you bother to protect her?" another bully chimed in, his tone dripping with contempt. "She's not worth it, and you're just making yourself look like more of a loser."

The bullies, emboldened by their perceived victory, closed in on Idia and Y/n. The pressure intensified, and Y/n's distress became palpable. Idia, however, couldn't bear to see her suffer any longer.

In a moment of unexpected defiance, the blue flames in Idia's hair intensified, shifting to a fiery orange. The air crackled with newfound energy as Idia's eyes blazed with determination. He had reached his breaking point.

"What do you know about worth?" Idia snapped, his usually timid voice cutting through the tension like a samurai sword. "You think you can just waltz around, tormenting others without consequence? Well, think again."

The bullies, now faced with an Idia they hadn't anticipated, faltered as he unleashed a verbal onslaught more cutting than their own. "You want to mock me? Fine. But lay off her. You have no idea what it's like to be her, to carry the weight of your cruelty every day."

As his words hung in the air, Idia's threat escalated. "And if you don't back off right now, I'll make sure your precious devices become my playground. Hacking is my specialty, and trust me, I can make your lives a living nightmare."

The bullies, genuinely frightened by the unexpected turn of events, retreated in haste, leaving Idia and Y/n alone in the aftermath of the confrontation. As the echoes of their footsteps faded, Idia's fiery aura subsided, returning to the familiar blue and turned his attention to Y/n.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice softening as he reached out to gently wipe away the tears that still clung to her cheeks.

Y/n nodded, a mixture of gratitude and admiration in her eyes. "Thank you, Idia. I didn't expect..."

Idia cut her off with a dismissive wave. "It's not like I did it for you or anything. I just couldn't stand their stupidity."

As the tension eased, Idia reverted to his introverted self, a visible anxiety settling over him. "I... um, well, I should go. Just forget about it," he mumbled, glancing away.

But as he turned to leave, Y/n caught his hand. "Idia, wait. Thank you," she said, a gentle smile playing on her lips. "You didn't have to do that, but you did."

Idia's eyes met hers, a subtle warmth beneath the layers of his usual aloofness. "Just don't make it a habit of needing my help," he quipped, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. Even though those words escaped his blue lips, in his heart he hoped that Y/n would come to him in her days of need. 

In the gloomy halls of Night Raven College, the three Savanaclaw bullies tried to justify their actions as mere play, their voices faltering under Malleus Draconia's piercing gaze. "We were just messing around, no harm intended," one of them stammered, attempting to downplay the cruelty they had inflicted upon Y/n.

Malleus, his patience exhausted, snapped his fingers. In an instant, the bullies were suspended above the ground. The Diasomnia housewarden wasted no time; his eyes met Y/n's, and the look on her face spoke volumes. This was not mere play; it was torment.

Outside, the atmosphere shifted, echoing Malleus's wrath. Lightning flashed, and thunder roared, a visceral manifestation of the storm brewing within him. The bullies, now terrified, were at the mercy of the fae prince's judgment.

With a graceful motion Malleus offered Y/n a hand to help her up. The warmth of his touch was a stark contrast to the chilling air of the college. "Are you hurt?" he asked, genuine concern evident in his eyes.

Y/n shook her head, grateful for Malleus's intervention. As they stood together, the fae prince surveyed the bullies with a cold, calculating gaze. "Explain yourselves," he demanded, his voice like the rumble of distant thunder.

The bullies, now realizing the gravity of their actions, stumbled over their words. Malleus's patience waned, and with another snap of his fingers, he immobilized them once more, this time freezing their levitating bodies.

Turning back to Y/n, Malleus took a step closer, his eyes softening as he surveyed the emotional toll the ordeal had taken on her. "I can make them feel the pain they inflicted upon you, Y/n," he offered, his voice low and filled with restrained fury.

Y/n, however, shook her head again, her eyes reflecting a mix of gratitude and reluctance. "No, Malleus. I don't want that."

Respecting her wishes, Malleus released the bullies, who fell to the ground with a thud before scrambling to flee. The housewarden, however, wasn't finished. With a flick of his wrist, he summoned Y/n's scattered belongings, collecting them with a gentle sweep of his hand.

"Allow me," he murmured, his eyes never leaving hers as he gathered her things. Malleus, his expression softening, lifted Y/n into his arms, carrying her bridal style.

As they navigated the corridors, Malleus's gaze remained on Y/n, a silent promise of protection and comfort. "No one should be subjected to such cruelty," he stated, his voice a low growl.

Once they reached a more secluded spot, Malleus gently set Y/n down. "If ever you need someone to shield you from the shadows, know that I am here," he confessed, his eyes revealing the depth of his emotions.

The lingering thunder outside echoed the storm within Malleus, but his gaze softened, and a hint of vulnerability appeared as he regarded Y/n. "Do you feel safe now?"

Y/n nodded “T-thank you, Malleus… You’re my savior.” Upon seeing her smile Malleus felt his worries wash away. To reflect this new found emotion the storms outside seem to lay down, making way for the sun to reveal its face once again. Malleus kneeled before her, cupping her face in his hand. “I won’t let anyone harm you ever again.”

[nekrosdolly]

gentle (18+)

hello! i was kind of stumbling through this so im worried it might not be good! like always, criticism is welcome ˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚

cw; dubcon due to non-verbal consent, re1 wesker, marriage/long term relationship implied, domestic fluff, tooth-rotting fluff not gonna lie, afab reader, soft dom wesker, clitoral stimulation, he's obsessed with you, praise (reader receiving), temperature difference cus he's a human icicle, creampie (x1), a bit of a breeding kink, very lovey and soft wesker

petnames (reader received); dearest, my dove, darling, dearheart, little dove, good girl, sweet thing, greedy girl

albert's gentle with you because he still has his humanity intact. sure, he's not completely sane either, but he doesn't want to drive you away. without uroboros or even the prototype virus, he's strong, and intimidating. his military training has hardened him, and he's tired of being stern and strict at both jobs.

to initiate, he'll typically come to you while you're both winding down for the night. maybe you're patting your face dry after washing it and he comes in the bathroom to hold you from behind. you set the towel aside and acknowledge his presence with a simple "hello, my love," and a small smile. your hands come up to

"hi, dearest," he murmurs, his hand coasting along your abdomen and up to settle on your sternum, pressing you back against his chest so you're flush.

"you're gorgeous," he says between kisses down your neck, his voice a little lower. despite his cold hands, he never fails to make you feel warm in your gut, the subtle purr of arousal making your blood flow south. you're blushing something fierce, making eye contact with him through the mirror. he does tower over you some. you can feel his erection against the small of your back, your own arousal heightening. the hand on his sternum moves to cup your breast, thumbing over your nipple so he can watch how your breathing changes, how your heart beats faster and your face flushes red.

he's so in love with you it almost hurts. he loves the way you press your ass back against him, grinding as an attempt to soothe the ache in your cunt. the ache that only he could ever cause, no less, in the few years you've been together. his other hand finds its way into your underwear, fingers cold but deft as he dips them between your wettened folds to gather the sticky fluid and circle your pulsing clit. you become putty in his arms, your hands practically useless at your sides. your knees turn to jelly, little whines of satisfaction leaving you.

"so, so gorgeous." he croons, the hand cupping your breast simply kneading as he rubs your clit with two cold fingers. he's a sucker for praising you, truthfully, and he loves the way you become red in the face. your face is hot, his dull blue eyes boring holes in your own. it's as though the eye contact makes him more excited, even if the look in his eyes is bone-chilling. his breath is warm against your neck, words of praise and love leaving his pale lips. he presses down a bit more firmly on your clit, his fingers moving quicker to bring you closer to your release. your moans grow louder, your legs threatening to crumble beneath you.

when you do cum, he talks you through it. your hands scramble to grab the edge of the bathroom countertop, your knees buckling under you from the force of your orgasm. your vision is starry at the peak

"i'm here, my dove. lean on me, darling. that's it. you did so well for me, didn't you? yes, you did. my wonderful girl." he murmurs, retracting his hand from your underwear as he peppers kisses to your cheek as you recover. he licks his fingers clean of your cum and strokes your hair with his clean hand, waiting for you to be able to stand again. when you're steady again you tap his arm and he lets you go.

he washes his hands and starts his own nightly routine. you perch yourself on the bathroom countertop and watch him, your head and heart muddled with love and a bit of residual pleasure. every now and then his eyes wander over to you, the subtlest of smiles tugging at the corners of his mouth. you'll run a hand through his hair as he rubs his moisturizer in (he takes care of his skin you can't tell me otherwise), your nails gently scratching the base of his head.

"your hair is getting long." you murmur, playing with the whispy ends.

"too long, dear?" suddenly, he's a bit self-conscious. what if his hair is too long and you decide you hate it? maybe you'll decide that one day, you don't like him anymore. maybe you already have? nervous and trying to hide it, his gaze returns to his own face.

"no, not too long. you could definitely pull off longer hair if you wanted to give it a try." you let your hand drop into your lap and he nods, feeling conflicted and honestly very silly. regardless, he leans over and pecks your lips. his timidity is rare, exceedingly so for a man like him, and it only ever pops up around you. like you're the only one who can get in his head, make him squirm. he may not admit it, but you are.

"good to know. thank you, darling." he takes your hand and helps you off of the bathroom counter, that same hand slipping to the small of your back as the two of you walk to bed. you have other plans.

you make that apparent when you sit at the edge of your king-sized mattress, black sheets crinkling slightly, and look up at him. it's clear that you want something. he raises an eyebrow at you.

"what's this, dear?" he cups your jaw with one hand and strokes your hair with the other. icy eyes roam your own for an answer, but to no avail.

"you didn't get yours earlier." you push his hands away and for a moment he looks offended. his expression falters when you grab his hips and kiss his lower abdomen, just above the waistband of his boxers. he sputters, taking a step back when you reach for his boxers, his hands raising in what seems like defense..

"darling, that's not necessary." he insists, but the way you're looking at him makes his blood roar in his ears, his heart thump faster in his chest. you grab his hands instead and pull him close again. you move back on the bed and pull him with you, gentle like you're guiding him.

hesitant, he crawls on top of you.

"are you sure?" he asks, eyes roaming over you in your cute your hands cup his cheeks, your gaze warm as it roams his face. his cheeks are tinted pink, one of his hands runs over your stomach and along your waist. he hooks his thumb under your silk sleep shirt and slowly pulls it up past your chest. he glances up at you, then at your tits as he cups them. he tweaks one nipple as he ducks his head down to lap and suckle at the other.

your whines, spilling from you so easily, are his favorite noise to draw from you. a dull throb in your clit draws your attention, the familiar ache in your pussy returning with a vengeance and you attempt to clench your thighs together in hopes to mute it. you'd like to hurry, but albert hates being rushed. you know that more than anyone, that he'll take his time with you like you were a painting and absorb every detail.

you tug on his hair, adamant and desperate to get him inside of you to soothe the ache that's only worsening the longer you're without something to fill you. he pulls back upon your request

"al, darling, please." he kisses you in the gentle way he always does, the hand on your waist cupping your cheek. when he breaks away, he looks conflicted. he does want to make you happy- that's all he ever wants to do for you- but he's tempted to drag this out for as long as possible.

"alright, dear. in a moment, just be patient. i know you can." he pecks your lips again, quick and sweet and undeniably hungry. his cock is painfully hard in the thin confines of his boxers, aching to be inside you the way you need him to be.

"lift your hips, little dove." he's met with obedience and he works your pajama bottoms off, a hungry smile on his lips the moment he sees the wet spot on the gusset of your panties. his cock twitches at the sight, aches to feel those walls clench and flutter around him. he slides your panties down to your ankles, then pulls his boxers off. he hooks your legs around his waist, pulling you flush with him

"honey," you whine softly as he leans down to kiss you, simultaneously teasing your slickened cunt with the tip of his cock, a soft grunt escaping him. slowly, he presses the tip in your tight, warm entrance. you whine against his lips as he moans against yours, your weeping pussy sucking him in so nicely.

"so perfect. your cunt was made for me." he murmurs when he breaks the kiss, fully hilted inside you. with how big he is, his cock kisses the tip of your cervix and stretches you out thoroughly. you flutter around him at the praise, even more when he starts thrusting with a gentle desperation only you draw out of him. your head spins, feeling so full and yet craving more at the same time.

the heat on your cheeks matches his own. he's always been such a blushy mess when it comes to missionary, but can you blame him? the expression you make with your eyes half-lidded, lips parted in pleasure, your brows furrowed. his hands find your waist, his cold fingers gripping you tight. the velvet walls of your cunt do things to his head, makes all reasoning go out the window as he pumps his cock into you faster and faster, sacrificing all need to be gentle. though surprised at this, you love it. a similar fog fills your head and your hands move to his back, your nails digging into his skin hard when he wraps an arm around your waist, angling your hips differently.

"that's it, take it all like the good girl you are." he croons, his eyes locked on your face as he angles his hips to brush his cock against that spongy spot amongst velvet walls. you visbly light up with pleasure when he does, your nails breaking the skin of his back by mistake. you know he's only going slow to drag this out, but with the way he's bullying your cunt, you don't know how long you're going to last. each thrust fogs your mind more until you're a moaning, whimpering mess for him. you tighten around him, trying to take more despite him being balls deep already.

"such a greedy girl, my sweet thing… you're going to cum, aren't you?" you nod meekly, biting your bottom lip harder when he thumbs your clit, nearly drawing blood.

"words, dearest. use your words for me." he slows his thumb down to gentle strokes, his cold skin against yours making you hypervigilant of his touch.

"m'gonna cum- i-is that okay? can i?" you struggle to get your words out, interrupted by small gasps of your own as he pistons his cock into the spongy bundle of nerves within you.

he's smiling to himself, enjoying how eager and sweet you are, despite the circumstances. he's close himself, only disguising it until you get yours.

"go on, sweet girl, cum for me." he circles your clit faster once more, causing you to fall apart at the seams. your orgasm is intense, your hips spasming in the desperate chase for more of the white-hot ecstasy running through your blood. you feel hot at your peak, a cry of his name leaving your irritated and puffy lips, before you relax with the comedown. being the good lover he is, he coaxes you through it with soft words and gentle touches.

"that's it, pretty girl. my perfect girl. i love you."

"i love you too." you manage to say despite your hazy state, a weak smile on your pretty lips.

he wraps your legs around his waist as he cages you in with his arms on either side of your head, kissing you slowly so you're not overwhelmed. you're a mess of nothing but your own slick, his cock buried deep inside you. the lower half of his abdomen is drenched with your cum, dripping down his pelvis and thighs. your legs are unsteady and wobbly, shaking in their place.

"al," you break the kiss. the restraint he's showing is visible on his face, especially in the way he's furrowing his eyebrows, "keep going if you need to. i can take it, i promise." he nods, though worried about hurting you somehow. he likes this position much more- he's already close as is, and all he can think about is filling your womb with his kids.

he doesn't speak as he starts thrusting into you again, quick and precise yet surprisingly harsh movements into your overly sensitive cunt. and yet you're still so wet for him, your cunt weeping for more. you can hardly think, let alone tell him how good you feel.

he kisses you hard, his cum filling you up so nicely, you'll be thinking about it for days. he groans against your lips, licking into your mouth. the familiar taste of tobacco from his tongue, his seed inside you, the remnants of his colonge flooding your senses, all overwhelming you. your heart flutters. he breaks the kiss, pressing his forehead against yours as he recovers.

"are you okay, dearheart?" he brings a hand up to fix your shirt and kisses the corners of your lips. tired, yet content, you nod softly and kiss him again. he hums quietly and cups your cheek, his mind still a touch fuzzy. the blush from his cheeks has yet to fade, and likely won't for another hour.

one hand on your waist squeezes you and he pulls back from the kiss to pull out of you, then get off the bed. he grabs you a fresh pair of underwear and pajama pants for himself. he steps into the pants while you sit up and take the underwear from him to put on.

"you know i love you, right?" you say as the two of you lie down, his strong hands pulling you flush against his chest with your back facing him.

"i know, dove. i love you just as much." he wraps an arm around your waist, getting comfortable as the big spoon. tired, he lets his eyes flutter shut. you pull the sheets up and over the two of you, hiking them up to your waist, then follow suit in closing your eyes,

[inou-ie]

Pairing: Arlecchino x female reader

Warnings: NSFW, violence, strap-on, mind break, overstimulation, slapping, pet play.

MDNI

Attempting to confront the Knave had initially seemed like a courageous choice, but it quickly became apparent that it was one of the worst decisions you had ever made. At first, you believed you were gaining the upper hand, delivering blow after blow, but it soon became evident that she had merely been toying with you all along.

The Knave had taunted you deliberately, goading you into launching the first attack. She had taken your hits with a calculated intent, using them to study your movements and understand your attack patterns, all part of her strategy to turn your own actions against you.

"What's wrong? Done already..? Pathetic..." Arlecchino mocked you as the sound of her heels striking the floor drew nearer. You groaned in agony, attempting to stand up, but your beaten body refused to cooperate, leaving you helpless and vulnerable.

"Shut up... I'm just... resting. The floor is cold, it feels nice." you defiantly replied, though the visible wounds and bruises on your body told a different story. Despite the pain and exhaustion, you refused to accept defeat in this manner.

Arlecchino's laughter filled the air as she knelt down and seized you by the neck. "What a joke. Accept your defeat, and maybe, just maybe, I'll let you go like this." she taunted, her grip tightening.

You let out a groan, struggling to break free as you held onto her wrists, but Arlecchino only tightened her grip on your neck. "One last chance. I have no time to spare with pests like you. Give. Up." she hissed, leaning in closer to your face, her intense gaze locked onto yours.

Summoning a last burst of energy, you managed to force a smirk, taking a deep breath as you reached for her face and flung sand you collected earlier into her eyes. It was a dirty move, and you were well aware of it, but you couldn't afford to give up just like that. "Fuck, you dirty little-" The Knave winced in pain, releasing her grip on you and causing you to tumble to the ground. She cursed vehemently, and you could feel her anger as you did your best to stand. Retreat seemed like the wisest course of action for the moment... but your legs won't move.

Your attempts to stand proved futile as your legs refused to cooperate, leaving you struggling on the ground, You had taken quite a beating after all.. Time was of the essence, and you could see that Arlecchino was gradually recovering from the effects of your dirty trick. "If I catch you... you'd hope you were dead..." She muttered a threat under her breath. It was the last thing you heard from Arlecchino and before you could react, she swiftly launched an attack that rendered you unconscious, the darkness enveloping your senses as you fell into a deep and uneasy sleep...

Your eyes snapped open as you felt a tug on your neck, and you realized that Arlecchino was pulling the leash attached to the collar around your neck. Taking in your surroundings, you found yourself lying on a large bed, all naked and you seem to have been cleaned and taken care of. You tried to move around just to find your hands tied up so tightly behind you.

"I was getting bored just watching you sleep all day. I had given you enough time to rest, now it's time to entertain me... pet." Arlecchino rose from her seat, positioning herself in front of you, a smug smile playing on her lips. The expression on her face filled you with a sense of foreboding, and you couldn't shake the feeling that you were in serious trouble.

"You need to be punished. I was kind enough to let you recover but don't worry... I'll break you again... and again." Arlecchino seized your chin with a firm grip and leaned in close, her words a hushed whisper in your ear. "You're like a wild animal that needs taming… and that's exactly what I'm going to do." she declared with a predatory intensity that sent a chill down your spine.

"You--" before you could utter a word, Arlecchino's hand came down hard across your face, leaving red marks and a stinging pain on your cheek. "Dogs don't speak." she asserted, her tone unwavering as she enforced her control over you.

You glanced down, trying to make sense of the situation, but then mustered the courage to look up once more, attempting to speak. However, your attempt was quickly met with another harsh slap, and Arlecchino's stern command: "Don't even try." It was clear that she intended to exert full control over your actions and words.

Biting your lips to suppress any protest, you reluctantly nodded in submission. The surrender stung your pride, but it was evident that you had no choice but to comply with Arlecchino's demands, at least for the time being.

"Good. Do not speak until I say so." With an amused smile, Arlecchino pushed you forcefully onto the bed, her hand gripping the leash tightly as she pushed your head down, reinforcing her dominance and control over you. You hear her movements behind you but you didn't dare to look.

A sharp gasp escaped your lips, and you gritted your teeth, feeling the tears welling up in your eyes as you feel something big penetrating your tight entrance. "This is the biggest one I have, fitting for a untamed dog like you." Arlecchino lets out a chuckle, watching as you take her biggest strap without any foreplay. You can't even do anything with your hands behind your back, your head pushed down. You could only whimper loudly as Arlecchino keeps thrusting in full force.

"I-It hurts..." you mumbled, as you looked over your shoulder seeing Arlecchino's smug expression as she grabs your hips. "I thought I just told you not to talk? I guess I need to use more force when handling you." she pulled out right away, making you groan at the sudden emptiness.

The Knave then lifted you up easily, moving you to her lap as she leans back against the headboard. "I'm in a good mood right now so I'll give you a little bit of time to adjust." Arlecchino mumbles as she slowly guides you to take her cock inside you, her hands firmly holding your hips. You nod in response, biting your lips.. trying to suppress any sounds as you slowly sink down onto her lap, feeling your inner walls stretching to accommodate the thickness of her strap.

"Just kidding... you think I'll show you mercy?" You let out a loud scream as she pushed you down on her lap hard, your eyes rolling to the back of your head... Arlecchino then immediately proceeded to move you up and down on her lap like a toy. Your pained whimpers and screams filled the whole room while Arlecchino watches the bulge her cock is making in your belly while your body continues to bounce up and down with a satisfied smirk. It didn't take long before you let out a long loud moan, indicating that you've already reached your climax.. putting your head on her shoulder in desperate attempt to beg for comfort as you get overwhelmed by the intense pain and pleasure coursing through your trembling body.

You've came...so what? Arlecchino didn't give you a break as she continues to use you like a toy, fucking you with her strap relentlessly while you're not able to fight back at all with your hands tied... not even allowed to talk. The only thing you can do is cry and moan as she forces you take her cock. The more you struggled, the more the rope around your wrists tightened, causing a sharp stinging sensation. It was a stark reminder of your captivity and the control that Arlecchino wielded over you.

"Seeing that fucked out face of yours that once was so proud... so satisfying." she chuckled wickedly, slapping your face to keep your focus on her. "From now on, you belong to me. Understand?" The Knave asked in a mocking tone, making sure to hit your deepest spot while she waits for your answer.

"I unders--" Your words were cut off with a loud slap on your cheek and with strong thrusts that hits your cervix hard. Your mind went black for a moment as your tongue sticked out from all the abuse you're receiving.

"I won't repeat this again... Dogs. Don't. Talk." Arlecchino hissed, as she gives your ass a tight squeeze. "Again, do you understand?" Arlecchino posed her question with a commanding tone, expecting a specific response. Her gaze bore into you, daring you to repeat any past mistakes and emphasizing the consequences of disobedience.

"W-Woof..." The weight of your situation pressed down on you, and it felt as though your dignity had been completely stripped away. Tears streamed down your cheeks, a testament to the profound emotional turmoil and helplessness you were experiencing.

"Now that's a good dog. Behave just like that and you'll get a reward but for now... you have to accept your punishment." With a firm push, Arlecchino compelled you to lie down on the bed, and for a brief moment, you felt a fleeting sense of relief. However, that moment was short-lived, you went back to being a whimpering mess as she pounds away relentlessly. Making you cum over and over again until you lost all sense of time and your surroundings, caught in a harrowing and degrading experience that seemed to stretch on endlessly.

By the time Arlecchino was finished with you, you had been reduced to a sobbing and broken mess, the physical and emotional toll of the ordeal having left you in a state of despair.

"That was satisfying. Now, get some rest. Don't even think of trying something funny or you'll receive much worse than this." Arlecchino warned you as she held your now limp body into her arms tightly, giving you a little bit of comfort. Your body still trembling from the intense encounter and the pool of cum beneath you just made you feel worse, the wetness reminding you of how she humiliated and abused you the whole time.

Arlecchino lifted your chin, her intense gaze locked onto your eyes as she posed the question, "Have you learned your lesson?" With great effort, you nodded in response and, summoning the last of your strength, you managed to look at her, offering a reply that acknowledged your submissive role as her "dog."

"...woof."

[sadnymi]

「 ✦ The masked boy. ✦ 」

regulus black x reader x barty crouch jr

Summary: following Regulus to what I expected to be a harmless party turned into a night of hidden desires and whispered secrets. Just to meet the masked stranger who seems to know more of me than I expected .

Words: 3,5k

Going to the party was undoubtedly a risky decision, but the allure of secrecy and adventure pulled me in. I overheard Regulus discussing it, and despite Pandora, bless her sensible soul warning of potential trouble, curiosity, that insatiable beast, had her claws firmly sunk into my insides. Ignoring her dire pronouncements, I transformed into a shadow the moment Pandora had fallen asleep Sneaking out I followed Regulus carefully, staying hidden until we reached a mysterious secret door within Hogwarts.

The door creaked open a sliver, revealing two hulking figures clad in black. Their imposing stature and steely gazes instantly confirmed my worst suspicions – this was no ordinary gathering. Fear, cold and sharp, snaked its way through me as one of them addressed Regulus in a low, gravelly voice.

"Who is this?" he rumbled, his gaze fixed on me with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine.

Regulus, his back momentarily turned, whirled around at the sound of the question. His face, usually a canvas of bored indifference, contorted into a mask of surprise and, dare I say, a hint of… fear? Our eyes met, and in that fleeting moment, I saw my own panic reflected back at me.

He recovered quickly, however, mustering a semblance of nonchalance. "She's with me," he declared, his voice a touch too loud to be entirely convincing. He strode towards me, a forced casualness in his gait, and placed a hand on my shoulder.

"Don't worry," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, a hint of desperation clinging to the words.

Once inside, the doors clanged shut with a finality that echoed my growing unease. Regulus whirled on me, his green eyes flashing with fury. "What in Merlin's beard, Y/N, were you thinking?" he hissed, his voice barely a whisper above a growl.

Shame burned hot on my cheeks."I… I followed you," I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper. "I was curious, . I just wanted to see I’m so sorry reg …"

He threw his hands up in exasperation. "Curious ? This isn't some harmless gathering, Y/N! You have no idea what you've just gotten yourself into!" The anger in his voice was laced with a hint of fear, a chilling realization that sent shivers down my spine.

The gravity of the situation sank in as I realized the potential consequences of my impulsive decision. Regulus's protective instincts were in full force, and I couldn't help but feel a pang of regret for putting him in a difficult position.

bravado I'd mustered to follow Regulus evaporated, replaced by a tremor that ran through my limbs. Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring the dimly lit chamber.

"I-I'm so sorry, Reg," I stammered, my voice choked with a mix of fear and remorse. "I had no idea… I shouldn't have followed you."

He sighed, the anger momentarily replaced by a weary resignation. "Hey," he said, his voice softening as he reached out to brush a stray tear from my cheek. "Don't cry. It's alright. We'll figure this out , Just… stay close, okay?"

He reached for a nearby table, his hand snagging two ornate masks. The intricate designs, fashioned from a material that shimmered faintly in the low light, were a stark contrast to the rough stone walls surrounding us.

"Put this on," he instructed, handing me one.

As I took the mask, a wave of self-consciousness washed over me. My baby blue sweater and jeans felt utterly out of place amidst the air of clandestine secrecy.

"I… I didn't know there was a dress code," I mumbled, feeling foolish.

He let out a humorless chuckle, the sound devoid of mirth. "There isn't, exactly.There's more to this than a dress code, sweetheart,"

then his voice dropped to a low murmur, laced with a seriousness that sent shivers down my spine. "Don't talk to anyone inside. And whatever you do, Y/N, never, ever reveal your name. Understand ?"

Shame burned in my throat, hotter than any fiery Goblet of Fire. I nodded mutely, the weight of my recklessness pressing down on me.

"Good," he said, his voice a touch softer. "Now, stay by my side. We'll get through this."

His words, laced with a newfound protectiveness, offered a sliver of comfort amidst the swirling vortex of fear and regret. With the mask obscuring my features, I clung to him.

With a newfound resolve, we ventured deeper into the hidden chamber. The air grew thick with the stench of sweat, spilled ale, and a musky perfume that hung heavy in the air.

The sight that greeted me upon entering the main hall was enough to make my eyes widen in shock. Bodies, clad in various states of undress, writhed and swayed to the pulsating rhythm of an unseen band. Laughter, tinged with a hint of hysteria, echoed through the cavernous space.

Instinctively, I raised a hand to my mouth, stifling a gasp.

"Y/N, sweetheart," Regulus hissed, his voice tight with urgency, "if we're going to survive this, you need to feign normalcy."

I lowered my hand hastily, trying to avert my gaze from the two scantily clad figures who brushed past me, their movements more suggestive than celebratory.

"Reg," I whispered, my voice barely audible above the din, "what is this place? Why isn't anyone wearing any clothes?"

Regulus offered a wry smile. "Perhaps you were right about the dress code here," he said, his voice laced with a dark humor.

"Is this some sort of… secret society?" I pressed, trying to quell the rising panic within me. His silence spoke volumes.

"Does this have anything to do with your new tattoo?" I ventured, the question tumbling out before I could stop it.

Regulus' lips stretched into a tight smile as he politely greeted a scantily clad woman who offered us flagons of an unknown, steaming beverage. With a practiced flick of his wrist, he disposed of the drinks once the woman had sashayed away.

"Don't consume anything offered here, Y/N,Not food, not drink. Understood" he murmured, his voice low and urgent. "Just stay close, and whatever you do, don't draw attention to yourself."

Guilt gnawed at me as Regulus navigated the throng of pulsating bodies, his hand a constant presence on my arm.

"Listen closely, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice a soothing balm amidst the cacophony.

"After the clock strikes the hour, I can't stay by your side any longer. I have… business to attend to. However, there's a hidden staircase leading to the rooftop. Go there, and you'll be safe. Once I'm done with what brought me here, I'll find you. Don't be afraid, Y/N. I promise you'll be alright I won’t let anything happen to you ."

He reached out, his touch surprisingly gentle as he brushed a stray strand of hair from my face. "And what about you, Reg? Will you be alright?"

He offered a smile, a gesture that felt more strained than comforting. "I'll handle myself, sweetheart. Just remember everything I told you: silence and anonymity are the keys . Don't speak to anyone, and for Merlin's sake, never reveal your name. Now, go."

His voice, laced with urgency, left no room for argument. I followed his gaze to the ornately carved clock dominating the far wall. The hands were inching closer to the ominous hour. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat echoing the approaching chimes.

Regulus squeezed my hand once, a silent promise of reunion, before melting back into the throng. Taking a deep breath, I found the hidden staircase tucked away in a darkened corner and ascended, each step taking me further away from the revelry and closer to the safety of the night.

Emerging onto the rooftop, I was greeted by a breathtaking vista. The moon, a luminous pearl in the inky expanse, cast an ethereal glow over the sleeping castle. Hogwarts, usually a source of comfort, seemed alien in this context, a silent sentinel against the backdrop of the forbidden revelry below.

I pulled my knees to my chest, the cool night air stealing the heat from my flushed cheeks. Fear, a potent cocktail of adrenaline and unease, churned in my gut. But amidst the turmoil, a flicker of hope remained. Regulus had promised.

The passage of time blurred on the rooftop. Every rustle of wind, every creak of the ancient castle, sent a jolt of fear through me. How long had I been waiting? An hour? Two? It felt like an eternity.

A soft voice, barely a whisper, shattered the silence. "Nice sweater "

I gasped, whirling around to find a stranger standing behind me.

This wasn't supposed to happen. My sole purpose was to wait for Regulus, I whirled around, my gaze falling on a tall figure shrouded in shadow. An ornate mask, similar to the one Regulus had provided, hiding his eyes , leaving only a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes , and a smirk in his lips

Silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken tension. Perhaps, I thought, if I remained quiet, he would simply melt back into the darkness, a fleeting apparition.

"Are you mute, darling?" The stranger's voice, dripping with a sardonic lilt, shattered the fragile hope , I opened my mouth shocked by the rudeness of his words

"That's a cruel thing to say," I retorted, my voice barely above a whisper, yet laced with a defiance born of desperation. Although his face remained half hidden, I could sense the widening of his smile, a predator relishing the chase.

"So you do talk," he chuckled, taking a step closer. I instinctively scooted back, the cool stone pressing against my spine.

"I know who you are, darling," he continued, his voice a low murmur that sent shivers cascading down my spine. Panic, a cold serpent, coiled itself around my heart. Don't look at him, don't look at him, a mantra echoed in my mind. He's bluffing.

But he didn't stop there. He sank down onto the rooftop ledge beside me, completely ignoring the disdainful glare I shot his way.

"What are you doing here, sweet Y/N?" he cooed, his voice dripping with a false sweetness. "Isn't it a little past your bedtime?"

Denial, a flimsy shield, crumbled in the face of his unwavering gaze. "I'm not Y/N," I stammered, a desperate attempt at subterfuge that even my own ears recognized as transparent.

A slow smile, devoid of genuine amusement, stretched across his masked face. "Such a shame," he drawled,The way his eyes, though obscured by the mask, seemed to gleam with perverse enjoyment sent a tremor of unease through me.

Panic, a cold hand constricting my throat, threatened to erupt. "What do you want?" I blurted, my voice barely above a choked whisper.

He feigned surprise, raising his hands in a theatrical display of innocence. "Merely indulging in a bit of curiosity," he purred, his tone dripping with saccharine sweetness."What brings the Ravenclaw princess to this clandestine gathering?"

Ravenclaw princess? A flicker of confusion momentarily pierced the fog of fear. Was that what they were calling me?

"I told you, I'm not her," I insisted, defiance flickering in my voice. Yet, a new question gnawed at me. Who was this masked figure? A sliver of recognition tugged at the edges of my memory, a feeling that his eyes, obscured as they were, held a strange familiarity.

Determined not to reveal my identity, I turned away, my gaze seeking solace in the cool serenity of the moon. "I won't tell you who I am," I declared, my voice regaining a semblance of control.

"Oh?" he countered, a playful smirk evident in the way his voice rose at the end.

"Fine, I'll just descend and inform those… formidable gentlemen guarding the entrance about the unidentified young lady gracing the rooftop with her presence."

Panic, a primal urge, surged through me. I lunged forward, grabbing his wrist with both hands.

"No! Please, don't do that!" The words tumbled out in a torrent, a desperate plea born of fear.

He chuckled softly, the sound sending a jolt through me. "Relax, darling," he murmured, his voice surprisingly gentle as he captured my hands in his.

"You won’t tell them , would you?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

He shook his head, a ghost of a smile lingering on his lips."If I wanted to expose you, I would have done so already. I was messing with you "

"Alright," I mumbled, staring at our hands intertwined. "Can you release my wrists now?"

He held my gaze for a moment, a playful glint in his masked eyes. "Why, darling? They seem perfectly content nestled in mine." A smirk danced on his lips as he finally released his grip. My hands felt strangely empty without the warmth of his touch.

My cheeks burned. The playful endearment shouldn't have sent a spark of warmth through me, especially coming from a stranger.

"So, you won't reveal your name," he stated, more an observation than a question.

I shook my head, a mix of defiance and fear swirling within me.

"Fine," he murmured, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. However, his tone suggested otherwise. This wasn't over.

Desperate to shift the focus, I blurted, "Who are you?"

He chuckled softly. "You can't hide your identity and expect the same courtesy, darling."

Darling …. this word again , sent a jolt through me. Why did it sound so...pleasant coming from him?

"But," he continued, a playful glint in his eyes, "we can play a game, wouldn't you agree?"

I hesitated. The entire situation felt precarious, yet a strange sense of intrigue battled with my apprehension. Finally, with a sigh of resignation, I conceded, "okay ."

A triumphant grin spread across his face. "Good girl ," he said, his voice dripping with a hint of satisfaction. "The rules are simple: we ask each other questions, and truthful answers are mandatory."

A knot of apprehension tightened in my stomach. This was a bad idea, a terribly bad idea. Yet, before I could voice my second thoughts, I found myself nodding in agreement.

"good ," he murmured, his amusement evident even in the darkness. "You can ask first."

I wracked my brain for a safe question, something that wouldn't reveal too much about myself. Finally, I settled on, "What house are you in?"

He smiled, a genuine one this time. "An easy one to start with. Ravenclaw, at your service."

Surprise washed over me. We were from the same house? Could it be someone I knew? A classmate, perhaps?

"Your turn," I reminded him

"Do you have a crush on our Regulus?" he inquired, the question laced with a hint of amusement.

My cheeks burned anew. "Of course not!" I spluttered, indignation coloring my voice. "Regulus is my best friend. We practically grew up together."

Immediately, I regretted my outburst. It had been a stupid mistake, revealing too much about myself and confirming his suspicions.

He merely chuckled, the sound devoid of genuine humor. "Easy, darling," he soothed, the endearment sending shivers down my spine. "It was just a question."

"A pointless one," I muttered, trying to regain my composure. My mind raced, searching for a way to deflect suspicion. "Are you a good student?"

"The smartest ," he declared with unwavering confidence.

I scoffed playfully. "Reg is the smartest one," I stated, defending my friend with a touch of pride.

He raised an eyebrow. "Is he?"

"Definitely," I confirmed, a pang of something akin to longing tugging at my heart I wanted to say reg and a certain someone else with beautiful eyes and messy hair who I try not to think so much about right now

He smirked, his gaze locking onto mine. "What are you thinking about, darling? You're blushing again."

"Is that a question?" I stammered, desperately trying to appear nonchalant.

"Indeed," he replied, his voice firm. "And remember, honesty is key."

Panic clawed at my throat. Why was everything so difficult? How did I always manage to get myself into such precarious situations?

"I was thinking about... my actual crush," I blurted out, the confession tumbling from my lips before I could stop myself.

He leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with a curiosity that both terrified and intrigued me. "Yeah ? , and who might that lucky guy be?"

"That's not your turn to ask” I declared, surprised at my own boldness. A small spark of defiance flickered within me.

"very well ," he responded easily, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Your turn then, darling. Let's hear your question."

"Do you know Barty Crouch?" I ventured, my voice barely above a whisper.

He chuckled, a sound both familiar and unsettling. "Certainly, I do."

Thankfully, he hadn't inquired about my reason for asking.

"Your turn," I said

His gaze, intense and unreadable behind the mask, held mine for a beat too long. "Why are you cloaking yourself in secrecy? And I don't simply refer to this clandestine rooftop rendezvou , why are you hiding ."

"I'm not…" I stammered, the truth a bitter pill to swallow. "I'm not hiding."

He raised an eyebrow, skepticism etched on his features. "One might argue otherwise. You blend into the background, a shadow amongst your friends. You downplay your own brilliance, mentioning Regulus's intellect but conveniently neglecting your own place amongst Hogwarts' finest minds."

I remained speechless, a truth I hadn't even acknowledged myself starkly laid bare before me. No one had ever taken an interest in the quiet, observant girl I was.

The mask did little to hide the intensity of his gaze. The silence stretched, thick with unspoken understanding. Finally, I confessed, a weight lifting from my chest as the words tumbled out.

"I don't think I have anything interesting to offer. It's simpler to fade into the background. That's why I followed Reg today. Even though we're friends, they all see me ….. so innocent to handle such talks I wanted to prove something, to show them there's more to me than meets the eye."

Exhaling a shaky breath, I realized the truth in my own words. This wasn't just about Regulus or a forbidden gathering. It was about yearning to be seen, to be acknowledged for who I truly was.

A surge of defiance, quickly extinguished by the realization of my exposed identity, prompted a flippant question. With a brittle smile, I challenged, "my turn. When was your first official date?"

He chuckled, a low rumble that sent a shiver down my spine. "Does having sex in the storage room count as a date?"

Heat flooded my cheeks, and the words tumbled out before I could stop them. "No, God, no!" I exclaimed, horrified by the image his words conjured.

"Ah, so minus the sex then," he interjected, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "In that case, I can't say there have been any."

Desperate to escape the awkward territory of his past, I blurted out, "Your turn."

His lips curved into a knowing smile. He brushed a stray strand of hair from my face, the touch sending a jolt through me. "So, it's Barty, is it?"

Panic seized me. "What?" My voice barely escaped my lips.

"Your actual crush , Y/N," he continued, his voice a husky murmur. "Is it Barty?"

I cursed my own body's reaction as a blush crept up my neck. Breathlessly, I managed, "My turn."

"Certainly," he replied, his voice smooth as velvet. "Will you tell him?"

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a husky murmur. "Fear not, darling. Your secret's safe with me."

My breath hitched. We were impossibly close now, his touch sending shivers down my spine. His fingers lingered on my jawline, sending a spark of awareness igniting within me.

His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "Now," he began, his finger tracing the outline of my lower lip, "are those lips as innocent as they seem?"

A shiver ran down my spine as his touch lingered. My eyes fluttered shut, a soft moan threatening to escape my lips. His words sent a blush scorching my cheeks. Did he think I was… inexperienced?

Shamefacedly, I nodded, unable to meet his gaze.

He brushed a feather-light kiss against my jaw, his touch sending shivers cascading down my arms. I inhaled sharply, my eyes still closed.

"And if I kissed you," he murmured, his voice sending shivers down my spine, "would you let me ?"

My head swayed, mesmerized by his closeness. I found myself nodding again, feeling a complete loss of control.

And then, his lips were on mine. Soft and warm, they moved against mine in a slow, intoxicating dance. His hands found their way to my neck, pulling me closer. The kiss was hungry, desperate, as if he was starved for my touch.

He broke the kiss for a moment, his eyes searching mine, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. Then, he was back, the kiss this time filled with a raw hunger.

We broke apart, gasping for air, foreheads resting against each other. The world spun, the only reality is the warmth of his body pressed against mine.

"Y/N," a voice split the moment .

I ripped myself away, panic and shame flooding my cheeks , I scrambled to my feet, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. Regulus stood frozen in the doorway, his face a mask of fury. The weight of embarrassment settled on my chest, suffocating me.

"Reg, I—" I stammered, but he cut me off.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Crouch?" he roared, his eyes blazing with anger.

My gaze darted between them, finally settled to the boy beside me, only to find him smirking.

The realization hit me like a physical blow. I had just kissed Barty Crouch.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

[cuubism]

Rock Paper Scissors

Dreamling | Pre-Slash | 5.7k | AO3

Dream suddenly gripped the lapels of Hob's jacket with a startling fervor, arms stretched across the tabletop. His gaze bore into Hob's. "I beg, allow me to represent you instead." "Now what kind of man would I be if I let others fight my battles?" Hob said, prying his fingers off before his endless grip tore through the fabric. "Hard as it may be to believe, I'm actually not a bad hand at chess. Don't worry about me." "I do not find that hard to believe. However, as I have said, this is not chess. It is an intimate and punishing battle of minds." "Alright, so it's like Go Fish."

Hob gets challenged to a duel. Too bad his opponent has it out for Dream, and has no intention of playing fair.

--

the first fic I ever started writing for Dreamling a year and a half ago, then forgot about! 😂 then randomly decided to finish.

--

“ROBERT GADLING,” yelled an individual Hob had never met before in his life, “I hereby challenge you to a duel!”

Hob squinted at him. Said individual was standing across the darkened street, dressed strangely in a white tunic flecked with gold. Then again, Hob’s barometer for strange was a bit different than what was normal, so who was he to say, really.

“What?” he said.

Suddenly this person was much closer to him. Hob flinched back, but couldn’t move much, close as he was to the pub door. “We have business,” hissed his pale-suited challenger. It was a masculine figure, blond hair swished to one side, eyes like fire. 

Hob wasn’t impressed. He’d seen worse. Better, too.

“Listen, mate,” he said, “I don’t really have time for this. I’ve already got something on the books tonight. Come back tomorrow.”

He started to walk through the doorway, but the… creature?—he didn’t think it was human—grabbed his arm and pulled him back. “We have business,” it repeated.

Hob tried to shake off its hand, but its grip was like hot iron. It seared through his jacket and burned his skin. 

“What business?” he snapped. “I’m certain we’ve never met before, and my memory is actually pretty good, long as it is.”

The creature smiled, more like a baring of teeth. “You have courted those who have harmed me—and my ilk.”

“Not clearing it up at all.”

There was a sound like the swishing of a thousand ghosts, and then Dream was beside him.

Dream. How strange, still, to have a name, a history—well, sort of—to put to the face he’d circled back to over and over again for all these years. The name cut his friend into sharp relief—Hob’s shadow, finally united with the being who cast it. 

Where the pale stranger burned white-hot, Dream emanated cold. Hob had always found his friend’s cold aura strangely comforting. It didn’t feel dangerous and biting like the winter wind. Instead, it was the cold of lake water when one dove deep enough, a subtle and quiet draw to the otherworldly. 

Well. Usually it didn’t feel dangerous. Right now, it felt positively hypothermic.

Dream’s presence chilled the air until the stranger was forced to yank his hand away from Hob’s arm, shaking it out with a hiss. Hob’s breath fogged the air in front of his face, never mind that it was summer.

“Phaethon,” Dream hissed on one long, cold breath. “You are not wanted here.”

Phaethon pulled himself up haughtily. “I can go as I please. Night, or no night.”

“You may test that theory if you wish.”

Phaethon faltered, just a bit, before recovering himself. “I am here only to deliver a message. I challenge you, Robert Gadling, to a duel.” His blazing eyes flickered over to Hob, then back to Dream. “I did not believe you were one to violate the old rules of challenge, Lord of Dreams.” 

He bowed slightly. It felt mocking, which rankled Hob, who’d otherwise been keeping his cool. 

“Are you going to explain what this is about?” he said, for the third time. “I don’t appreciate being accused of things I haven’t done.”

Instead of answering, Phaethon said, “I’ve uncovered your history. There’s quite a lot of it, isn’t there? I wager it could make quite a bit of trouble for you, having all of that information turned over to certain parties. Human authorities. Occultists. Vampire hunters, they’ll love you–”

“I’m not a vampire,” Hob snapped.

“Doesn’t matter. Point is, we can do that, or, you can choose to face me directly.”

“What do you seek to gain from the challenge?” demanded Dream. He seemed to know more about what was going on here than Hob, which wasn’t comforting. Hob didn’t particularly want to get drawn into some kind of immortal creature game with obscure rules he’d end up tripping over.

Phaethon’s grin emerged one tooth at a time. “I want… your dreams.”

Hob probably should have been more troubled by this. Instead, he just frowned in confusion. “Not sure that’s in your power, mate. You’re aware who you’re talking to?”

He didn’t need to gesture to Dream looming over his shoulder.

“If you agree to the terms,” said Phaethon, a hiss like lava dripping over stone, “then the magic will bind us.” 

Dream didn’t contradict him, but his anger cooled the air until Hob felt like he was standing atop a glacier.

“I think I’ll pass,” Hob told Phaethon. “Feel free to try to reveal me. I’m good at disappearing.” 

He turned to go—

“Lord Morpheus.” Phaethon turned the beam of his gaze on him, sunlight ricocheting off ice. “Will you stand in his stead?”

Hob grit his teeth and, against his better judgment, turned back around. “Don’t bring him into this. Look, if I win your challenge, what do I get in return?”

“You may request whatever you like,” said Dream. “Such are the terms of the agreement.”

“Fine. If I win, then I want this: you never speak to or of me again. That means no threatening me, no using me to threaten anyone else, no telling anyone about me—nothing. Got it?” God, Hob just wanted to go inside and have a beer.

Phaethon gave him a little bow. “Fair enough. I accept the terms of this challenge.” 

Dream seemed aggravated; a trickle of energy, like black lightning, scurried up the back of his neck and disappeared into his hair. But he didn’t intervene.

Hob and Phaethon shook on it. Then Phaethon retreated into the shadows again, calling, “Tomorrow at midnight, Robert Gadling. I will see you then.” Then his eyes blinked out and he was gone.

Hob shuddered. Good riddance. He rather preferred his eldritch creature to that one, thanks very much.

“What was that?” he said.

Dream’s presence was warming again by small degrees. The atmosphere was now more like an industrial freezer than Antarctica. “A minor demigod.”

“Oh, minor. Alright then.” 

“They are occupied by petty troubles,” said Dream.

Hob looked at him out of the corner of his eye, but elected not to comment. 

“Come on,” he said instead, leading the way back toward the pub. “We’re supposed to be having an easy night of it, dammit!” He wasn’t about to let some minor demigod ruin his night. He never knew how many of them he would get with his friend.

Dream’s gaze lingered on the spot where Phaethon had disappeared, but eventually, like the sweeping of a long coat tail, he followed.

---

"So, a duel," Hob remarked as they sat down across from each other in the pub booth. "I admit, I haven't dueled anyone in a few centuries, but I can't imagine it'll be—”

"It is not what you are thinking of," Dream interrupted. He had folded himself into the booth seat like a stick insect trying to cram itself in a jar. It was an absurd image, the long black coat, the spindly arms on the tabletop. "It is not a fight of the physical form. It is a battle of the mind and will."

"You're going to have to elaborate."

"In such a challenge—” Dream began, but was interrupted by the arrival of a waitress, there to take their order.

"So, what can I get for you chaps?" she said brightly.

The idea of Dream being a chap was so hilarious Hob had to stifle a laugh. Yeah, maybe he wasn't taking the whole duel thing seriously enough. Oh well.

Hob ordered a beer and a plate of chips. When Dream showed no sign of speaking, he ordered for him, too.

“You can order whatever you like,” Hob told him, when the waitress had gone. “It is my pub and all.”

Dream picked up the laminated menu gingerly. It wobbled in his hands. He looked down at it with a flat expression.

Hob realized belatedly that he probably didn’t know what to order. How much had pub food changed since— God, 1910 or so? And it wasn’t like his friend would have had much time to peruse menus since, what with all he’d been up to.

“Just try the chips,” Hob said, taking the menu away from him. “We’ll see how far that gets you.” 

"I have no need of human food," Dream said, folding his hands back on the table.

“Sure, and I technically don’t need my left leg, either, but I do rather like having it.”

“You say strange things,” Dream murmured. “As I was telling you. In such a challenge—” 

The waitress returned with their drinks. Dream glowered at her. Hob thanked her brightly.

"So, you were saying?" he said, sipping his beer. "In such a challenge…?"

"In such a challenge—”

The waitress arrived again with their chips. Dream slammed his hands on the table, shaking the chips in their basket and making the waitress jump. 

"Sorry," Hob apologized, "we've had a bit of a day." Wasn't it always.

"In such a challenge," Dream continued when she had gone, in a tone that suggested he would not be stopped this time, "one must suggest a mind-form, which one's opponent will attempt to surmount and defeat. Then you attempt to defeat their new form, and so on until one challenger is victorious. It is… a predictive game, of sorts. If one can predict what one's opponent’s moves might be, one can choose forms to foil them. This can easily become complicated."

"So, it's like chess," Hob summarized.

Dream stiffened, lips pressing into an offended line. "It is not so simple as chess."

"Checkers?"

"It will not help you to think of it so." Dream took a chip and bit into it in irritation. "You just— oh." He stared at the chip. "These are quite pleasant."

"Can never go wrong with a good chip," said Hob, then furrowed his brows. "Haven't you had them in dreams before or something?"

"Presumably. It has been at least a century." 

Ah, yeah. That. "Well, they're frying them in veg oil instead of lard nowadays anyway. Kind of a different experience." 

Dream stared at him as if Hob made no sense whatsoever.

"Anyway," Hob continued, "am I even going to be able to create these mind-forms? I'm not exactly an otherworldly being." 

"The power is in you, though it may be more challenging to harness. And easier to let slip from your grasp. It is imagination, after all. Humans are good at imagination, though perhaps not so good at holding onto it."

"Hmm." Hob munched on a chip. "Okay. I'll work on my imagination." After seven hundred years or so of life, it was possibly a tool that needed some sharpening. 

"I admit it offends me greatly that Phaethon would presume to ask a human to fight in this way," said Dream. He suddenly gripped the lapels of Hob's jacket with a startling fervor, arms stretched across the tabletop. His gaze bore into Hob's. "I beg, allow me to represent you instead."

"Now what kind of man would I be if I let others fight my battles?" Hob said, prying his fingers off before his endless grip tore through the fabric. "Hard as it may be to believe, I'm actually not a bad hand at chess. Don't worry about me."

"I do not find that hard to believe. However, as I have said, this is not chess. It is an intimate and punishing battle of minds."

"Alright, so it's like Go Fish."

"Do not joke," Dream growled. Actually, he never truly growled. It was more like his voice dropped into a lower register than usual. Which was saying something. Hob interpreted it as a growl, though. "Do not joke when your existence is at stake. Your immortality cannot protect you from this." 

"Are you saying I'd be unmade if I lost?" Hob asked. It was a concerning thought, to say the least. It had been a long time since he'd had to concern himself with his own mortality.

Dream’s tongue ran over his lower lip. "Potentially. The terms of the fight do not state so, but I do not know how such a duel will affect a human. The strain of it may simply tear you to shreds. It nearly drained me, the last time I fought."

"Wait, you had a fight like this? Recently?"

Dream tilted his head, gaze paling in confusion. "I told you that I went to Hell to retrieve my helm." 

"Yeah, but you didn't tell me you had to mind-battle– who'd you mind-battle anyway?"

"The demon chose Lucifer Morningstar as his representative." Dream’s lip curled in distaste. "Hence, the near loss."

Hob looked at him in concern. "Are you alright, though?"

"Of course I am all right." He spoke it as two words, like the phrase had never before graced his tongue. Hob wanted to let out a long-suffering sigh, but managed to restrain himself. "I am Dream of the Endless."

"Mmhmm. Yep. Okay."

"You do not have to worry about me," Dream said stiffly, parroting Hob's words from before.

Hob thought that was evidently untrue, but decided not to mention the century of imprisonment or the multiple near-death experiences— could he die? Maybe it was more like multiple near-misses with eternal agony— since then. To preserve the relative peace of the moment. 

"So how'd you beat the devil, then?" he asked.

"I had everything to lose. Lucifer had nothing to lose, and only a paltry amusement to gain."

Was that an answer? Hob wasn't sure. 

"Okay," he said. "Well, I do have all of my dreams to lose, apparently. Plenty of incentive to win."

Ice crystallized along the rim of Dream’s glass, spreading from where his fingers pressed. “You speak as if you think I would ever allow this to happen.”

Hob raised an eyebrow. “I thought the magic was binding?”

“Only by honor.”

“And so… what would happen if you violated that honor?”

The words trickled out of Dream reluctantly. “One’s word would not be trusted again.”

“Right. Exactly. I can’t let you do that, love. There’s a whole eternity of words needing to be trusted after this.” It was tempting, honestly, to let his more powerful friend step in and handle this—especially as Hob still hadn’t gleaned what the hell he’d even done to piss off Phaethon—but ultimately, it wouldn’t be right. He’d never used Dream as a clean-up tool for any of his problems in the past, and he wasn’t about to start just because he now knew he was the Lord of Dreams.

Dream’s expression darkened further. He truly was capable of embodying shadow when he was annoyed; Hob didn’t know how he hadn’t figured out the extent of his supernaturalness sooner, honestly. “You would not let.”

“Hey. Come on. I’ve solved plenty of my own problems, haven’t I? Have a little faith.” Hob kind of wanted to pat his hand, but wasn’t sure it was a good idea. “You don’t think I can win a duel against this Phaethon guy?” 

Dream seemed uncertain about it, and Hob couldn’t help but feel a little offended. Sure, he wasn’t a supernatural entity, but Hob had gotten himself out of a fair number of scrapes, and without the help of any Endless, thanks very much! 

“His rancor disturbs me,” Dream said at last. “I do not know what you have done to offend him.”

“Nor I. Never met the guy.”

Dream seemed lost in contemplation. Hob let him, and kept eating the chips.

Eventually, Dream said, “Even if this loss did come to pass… you would always have a place in the Dreaming.”

Hob’s breathing stuttered. “With you?” he said, sounding much smaller than he’d expected. It was… an ill-considered response, to say the least. 

Dream shifted in his seat. “I am the Dreaming,” he said. “It is part of me, and I it.”

“I see,” said Hob. But the thought kept turning within him.

---

No more was said on the matter until their beers were drunk and their chips polished off and they were strolling out the door of the pub. 

As they crossed the threshold, Hob was struck by a realization. He slapped Dream on the breast of his coat, stopping him in his tracks.

"I'm an idiot! Of course it's not like chess. It's metaphysical rock-paper-scissors!"

"Are you intoxicated?" Dream asked wearily.

"Nope. Just happy to have my old friend around again."

Dream’s form, unbreakable as the darkness between stars, stuttered. Behind him, his shadow wavered.

Then he swept away, leaving Hob to catch up. 

---

They met again on the field of battle, so to speak.

Phaethon was there before them, melodramatic in his white-and-gold cape. Not as melodramatic as Dream, though, whose eyeliner seemed darker than usual, somehow, and whose cloak swept all the way to the ground, pooling more like liquid than fabric. He was very displeased about these events, Hob could tell.

Hob shook Phaethon’s hand formally. Once again, the touch burned him, but he resisted the urge to shake his hand out in pain. Then they stood across from each other. Hob wished he had a sword, but that was not this game.

"As the challenged party, you commence the duel," Dream told him, standing not far from Hob’s side as Phaethon paced before them, grinning. "You may choose your form and begin."

Hob had thought long and hard about how he would start. He didn't want to go too big, else the fight escalate beyond his control. Obviously, he didn't want to pick something weak either.

What was out there that had tormented mankind, sowing destruction, breeding fear and illness and death, while barely reaching higher than an ankle? 

Hob had lived through it. The choice was obvious.

"I am a plague rat," he started, and saw Dream’s eyebrows twitch. Impressed. Ha! "Hiding in shadows. Letting sickness into our food, homes, blood."

He saw the rats in his mind. Scurrying through tunnels, climbing into grain stores, unaware of what they carried. A seething mass of tails and slick fur and beady eyes, churning, churning, churning. 

Phaethon curled in on himself, limbs creaking, boils popping on his skin and pus leaking from his eyes. Hob flinched at the reminder of those times. Horrible, horrible times.

Mentally, Hob prepared for the counterattack. Paper beats rock. What beats rat? Dog beats rat. Cat beats rat. Famine, extermination fumes, plague doctors, modern medicine—

"I," Phaethon ground out, through the contortions of his body, "am a flood."

Oof. Good one.

"A swelling, raging river, decimating any town in my path. Washing rats down to their deaths." 

A phantom wave smacked Hob in the face and hurled him to the ground. It crashed over him, gallons and gallons of water, surging up his nose, into his eyes, down his throat. He choked on it. He drowned in it. Debris in the floodwaters bruised him till he felt like a branch spinning out in the current, rather than a human.

Then. He managed to take in a breath.

He staggered to his feet.

Dream was standing a step closer, like he'd lurched forward, but he forced himself back into stillness.

"I," Hob said on a gasping breath, pushing wet hair out of his eyes, "am a drought." Phaethon had taken it to another level? Fine. Hob would go scorched earth. "Whisking away all your water. Turning everything into dust."

Phaethon choked, throat suddenly dry. His eyes went bloodshot. His skin flaked and peeled, his lips bled. He clutched at his stomach as it heaved for water.

He could go rain again, Hob thought. Or ice age. Asteroid. Biblical flood—does that count if he already did a regular flood?

"I am famine," said Phaethon, when he'd recovered himself, though he was still rasping. "I wither crops without water. I starve everything that walks."

Hob's stomach caved in on itself. He fell to his knees, retching nothing but bile. His mind flashed back to his decades on the streets, so long without food he'd thought his stomach would start eating itself—and then it had. 

His arms shook. His body felt thin and liable to crack. 

"I," he croaked, still on all fours, "am an oasis. Rising from the desert, real, not a mirage. Offering reprieve." 

Too late, he realized this might restore his opponent. 

But instead, Phaethon creased and cracked, like he was the famine, persecuted by salvation. He clasped his stomach as if it was overfull; water poured from his mouth.

Water filled Hob's mouth, too, but it restored him. He climbed back to his feet.

Dream was definitely closer now. He wasn't imagining it. Still, he didn't intervene.

Phaethon was visibly weakened, but still he said, "I am selfishness. Infighting over limited resources. Society destroying its oasis."

Hob's limbs were torn in opposite directions. He yelled, but the invisible hands on him didn't let up, yanking at him like he was the final piece of food before everlasting deprivation. He pulled at them, but it was no use.

One of his shoulders dislocated with a loud pop, and he bit down on his tongue so as not to scream. Blood exploded in his mouth.

"I am generosity!" he yelled, blood dripping over his lips. "I am brother sharing with brother. Stranger sharing with stranger."

Dream was looking at him now like he didn't know what to make of him. Phaethon, too, was staring at him, but with a look of disgust. 

"High-minded idealist, are you?" he sneered. "What the hell is generosity going to—”

His expression broke in half. His hands shook; he picked at his nail beds until they peeled and started bleeding. His lip wavered and his eyes beaded with tears.

Hob didn't know what was happening to him.

"Shame," Dream breathed from behind him. "So clever, Hob."

Hob hadn't actually known what generosity would do, but he appreciated the compliment nonetheless.

"I," croaked Phaethon, through tears, "am memory. History and anger curdled to a resentment which no generosity can overcome."

He felt Dream’s eyes on him, as he no doubt feared the anger, the resentment he so believed that Hob held over his absence would surge forth again. But it did not, for Hob had never been angry with Dream. Angry with himself, yes, and that he felt acutely, along with the fear and hurt of Dream walking away, the stewing guilt of it.

Memory held more than anger. Mostly, for Hob, it held grief. Grief for his friend who'd been imprisoned for so long, while Hob went about his life, imagining him lonely, isolated perhaps, but never knowing the truth. Grief for himself, too, for he knew that to always blame himself for Dream’s behavior had also been unfair. 

Tears slipped from his eyes. He looked over at Dream, who was still watching him warily.

Memory had far too many facets for Phaethon to use it as an effective weapon.

"I am forgiveness," Hob said, closing his eyes against a fresh welling of tears. He didn't know who he was forgiving. Himself, or Dream, who still seemed to need absolution from Hob, no matter how Hob told him he didn’t.

"I am hatred!" Phaethon snarled. His voice had gone animalistic in a last ditch effort to come out on top. But forgiveness clanged around him, pulling tears from his eyes, undermining his viciousness. "I am division even forgiveness cannot mend."

Just like that, he opened up the path for Hob to take his king. Checkmate. Game over. Rock paper scissors shoot.

"I am love," Hob said quietly, even as a sob caught in his throat as the memory of all the hate he'd witnessed in his life, the hate he'd participated in, and the fear, long-held, that even Dream might hate him, for his wrongs, or for overstepping, pulsed back to the forefront. He could never hate Dream, though. No matter what.

"Love can be easily destroyed," snapped Phaethon, but he was wavering. 

"But it always comes back," said Hob. Unwitting, he looked over his shoulder at Dream.

His friend was already looking directly at him. That tinge of red, so terrible and familiar now, was back along his eyes. He didn't speak, not to Hob. Hob followed his gaze as he looked over Hob's shoulder and spoke to Phaethon.

"Do you have a counter?"

"Love?" Phaethon laughed hysterically. "You brought love to a duel?"

"I believe Hob brings love everywhere he goes," said Dream, and Hob whipped back around to look at him, eyes wide. The tiniest smile was dancing on Dream’s lips.

Then a blade erupted from Hob's chest.

Blood sprayed. His heart stopped beating—actually stopped, he felt it. The sword had pierced right through it. He scrabbled for it with clumsy hands, but the blade shiiiinged back out before he could grab it. 

Blood spattered Dream’s face. Those pretty lips parted, eyes widened, the lordly bearing wiped from his expression leaving only a person, shocked and wounded. Hob would never forget that look of startled horror for as long as he lived. 

Which wasn't looking to be that long.

He fell to his knees, blood pouring from his chest. No use trying to stop it. It would mend itself, in time, but that knowledge did nothing to stop the instinctive rush of fear. He was dying. He was dying.

He fell on his side. Blood soaked his shirt. All told, it took maybe ten seconds after getting speared like a wild hog—

—for the world to completely blink out.

---

Hob's chest ached like a bitch when he woke. 

He was still on the ground, bloody mud around him, soaking his clothes. Oh. That was mud made from his blood. How horrifying. 

He opened his eyes in time to see Dream lifting Phaethon from the ground by his neck. His hand was a vice grip and Phaethon choked, scrabbling at his fingers for breath.

"TREACHERY," Dream snarled, louder than Hob had ever heard him. His voice boomed across the empty park. "I will unmake you."

"I'm not one of your creatures, you can do nothing to me," said Phaethon, but his assuredness flickered.

Dream’s being was a black hole eating light. "Watch it happen."

Hob coughed, dirt trapped in his throat, and shoved himself up on his forearms. Dream froze, and turned slowly to look at him, Phaethon still clasped in his hand like he weighed nothing. Dream’s attention was like being in the path of a comet.

"Hob," he said. "Are you alright?"

Hob knew, in that moment, that if he asked Dream to spare Phaethon from whatever fate he had in mind for him, he would comply. And what power that was. Hob didn't want to be the one doling out mercy or punishment, like a judge at the gates of Hell. But damn if it wasn't a thrill to have Dream look at him like that.

"Of course I'm all right," he said, with a bloody grin. "I'm Hob Gadling."

Dream smiled too, a ferocious smile, like that of a wolf.

Hob didn't tell him to spare Phaethon.

Apparently, they both had some savagery in them.

---

"So why did he kill me?" Hob asked later, when he'd showered all the blood off—God he loved modern showers—and they were both sitting at the kitchen table in his flat, drinking tea. Well, Hob was drinking tea. Dream was just kind of staring at it. "I mean, the cost of losing wasn't even that high. Not on his end, anyway."

"He was not interested in you at all," said Dream, still not looking at him. "I dragged the truth from him while you were… gone. This was all a ploy to get to me. To hurt me—indirectly, of course. Such a lower being could never hurt me directly."

"Wait." Hob tried to grapple with this. "You— are you saying I was like a kidnapped princess?" 

Dream frowned. "If you insist. The point is, he did not plan to let you walk away. By winning, or by killing you, whichever he could accomplish." 

"Damn. Maybe I should have let you fight for me."

"No. You represented yourself admirably. More than admirably. You won the challenge, fairly, and did not try to kill your opponent to do it." 

Praise from Dream always hit Hob somewhere deep. Possibly because Dream only said such things when he meant them. Possibly just because it was Dream saying them.

“Well, thanks for handling him in the end,” Hob said, instead of voicing that sentiment.

Dream nodded solemnly. “I would not allow such harm to befall you without interfering,” he said.

Hob took a sip of his tea to avoid showing how he felt about that quite so obviously on his face.

“Why did he want to hurt you, then?” he asked instead.

“He is the child of a sun deity,” said Dream.

“And… that… means…?”

“Sunlight chases away dreams. We are natural enemies.”

Hob frowned. “What about daydreams?” 

“Daydreams may take place during the daytime, but they exist in the darkness of the inner mind,” said Dream.

“Ahhhh.” Hob nodded sagely. Yeah, sure, that made sense. One hundred percent. Absolutely. “I don’t know, I feel like some dreams can survive in the daylight. Thrive, even.”

“Perhaps next time I have an altercation with a sun deity, I will call upon you,” Dream said, a bite of sarcasm in it. “To see if you can banish them with this mindset.”

“Don’t give me that cheek,” Hob admonished. Dream’s mouth popped open in offense, but Hob plowed on, “Just have an open mind about it, that’s all I’m saying. Who knows, maybe you guys are in a symbiotic relationship or something, instead of enemies. You help people see what could be possible, and they balance it with reality.”

Dream was silent for a moment, thinking. “Perhaps,” he said at last. “But I do not think approaching them in this manner will serve me well, at the moment.”

“Maybe not if they’re going around attacking you,” Hob conceded, and Dream cracked a small smile.

Sun deities, Hob thought. Really, life was full of such strange and interesting things.

“So when you went to Hell,” Hob started. Dream tilted his head, but didn’t seem thrown by the change in subject. “What did you wager in exchange for your helm? The game makes you wager something, right?”

“It was the demon who chose the other side of the wager,” said Dream. “He demanded I remain in Hell and serve him for eternity, if I lost.”

Hob was glad he’d put down his tea, as he’d probably have dropped it. “What? Was the helm really worth that risk?”

Dream leaned back in his chair, lips pressed tight in offense. Or maybe hurt. “I am nothing without my tools of office,” he said.

“That is not true,” said Hob, surprised by his own vehemence. Nothing? He thought he was nothing?

“I could not have restored the Dreaming without them,” Dream insisted.

“Okay, fine. They’re important for your job. But that doesn’t mean you’re nothing without them.” Hob went to lay his hand over Dream’s on the table, hesitated, then decided, fuck it. Dream started when their skin touched, but didn’t move away. Hob repeated his words, with even more emphasis this time. “You’re not nothing.”

Dream met his gaze, challenging. Hob didn’t back down.

“As you wish,” Dream finally said. Which wasn’t actually an agreement. “I can concede that the ruby breaking was ultimately beneficial to my power. But the helm is my symbol of office. To leave it in the possession of a demon is a continual humiliation to my realm and station.”

“Okay, I’m hearing you,” Hob said. It wasn’t that he didn’t think Dream should be able to get his helm back. But he didn’t want Dream to risk horrible punishment for the sake of his pride. Better to slink away alive to try again another day, or so Hob felt. That wasn’t Dream, though.

“Just be careful, okay?” he said. “Even if you lost your helm and everything, and everyone in Hell thought you were pathetic—which, by the way, not sure Hell’s opinion is worth much anyway? but that aside—I’d still rather have you here than the alternative.” He threw Dream a smile, hoping he didn’t take offense to the idea that he could possibly be pathetic. “It wasn’t ‘The King of Dreams and Nightmares, et cetera’ that I missed for all those years, you know?”

“You did not know who I was, then,” Dream pointed out, but he seemed contemplative.

“I liked who I did know,” Hob said. “My friend.”

“Your friend,” repeated Dream slowly. Finally, he did pick up his tea, and took a sip. “A powerful title indeed, if you would have me when it is the only one I carry.”

“If you say so,” Hob said, which brought a small smile to Dream’s lips. If Dream wanted to think of it as a title akin to his kingship and endlessness and whatnot, then Hob would bestow it on him with gladness, and with a warm sense of honor that nestled right in his heart.

“It is…” Dream added, at length, “a meaningful title. To me.”

Rare, those expressions of feeling from Dream. Hob couldn’t help but to bask in them like a cat in a sunbeam. He remembered how Dream had looked at him during the duel. Love always comes back. Worth it, all the strife, to see Dream look at him like that, he thought.

“You defended me,” Dream said. “To prevent me taking the duel in your place. To protect me when it was not warranted.”

Wasn’t warranted. Hob really wished Dream would just learn to let Hob care for him.

"Would have even if I'd known it was you he truly wanted," he said. “I missed my friend for long enough. Wasn’t going to let something happen again when I could get in the way of it.”

“Your friend,” Dream said again. As if savoring the words. His lips tipped up again in a small smile. One just for himself.

Hob squeezed his hand on the table. A grounding touch, a reminder. “And don’t forget it.”

Dream turned his hand over on the table, and squeezed back.

[wherethefireliliesgrow]

Love You Twice

Huh Yunjin x Reader

GENRE: fluff

TYPE: One Shot

Inspired by: Love You Twice - Huh Yunjin

"Hello, is anyone here?"

A loud voice echoed from the front of the shop, accompanied by the obnoxious ringing of the bell you had left on the counter. You groaned internally, hoping for a slow day since you were still recovering from a severe cold from last week. Unfortunately, your manager refused to give you another day off, so you found yourself pathetically hiding in the storage room, seeking a few moments of respite.

"Hellooooo," the voice called out again, causing your headache to intensify. 

"Yes, I'm here," you sighed, getting up and dusting off your pants. "Please give me a second."

Stepping out of the backroom, you came face to face with a girl, likely around the same age as you. She wore black-framed glasses, a face mask, and a black fisher hat.

"What can I get for you?" you asked, mustering a smile while trying to stave off your fatigue.

"Hmm…Can I have a cinnamon churro and a cup of iced Americano?" The girl stared at you curiously, her wide brown eyes fixated on your every move. After taking her money, you began preparing her order as she settled into a corner table, taking off her hat and face mask.

You set your phone on the speaker and played the hottest Korean hits on Spotify. There was something about the mysterious girl that made you think she would enjoy some K-pop songs while she waited. And indeed, when you brought her order to the table, she was fully immersed in dancing to Fearless, which you found adorably funny.

"Quite a dancer you are," you laughed, setting her food down.

The girl blushed and quickly switched off the camera she had set up in front of her.

"Thanks for the food," she said shyly, hiding her smile behind her coffee cup.

"It's no problem! Enjoy," you replied, slowly retreating back to the kitchen. "Feel free to record or film anything you want. I'll be back here if you need me."

You could tell from her poised and polite demeanor that she might be an idol or celebrity. With her large brown eyes, luscious lips, and slender build, she stood out as someone more than just an average customer.

In the backroom, you struggled to stay awake, listening to muffled sounds of the mysterious stranger talking to her camera. 

"Hey," her sonorous voice echoed from the front of the shop again, pulling you out of your half-asleep state. "Are you still there?"

"Yeah, what can I do for you?" You quickly stood up, wiped your hands on your apron, and walked to the counter.

She gave you an awkward smile, hesitating before speaking. "Could you, you know… sit and talk with me? I'm feeling a bit bored."

You checked the clock on the wall before replying, "I don't get off until another five hours."

She pouted, "There hasn't been another customer after me, though."

You raised your eyebrows, "My boss would be offended."

"No, sorry," she panicked, "I didn't mean that no one wanted to come. I mean, the food is great. You're great, and I…"

She cut herself off, catching you laughing at her.

"Nevermind," she muttered with a huff, turning back to her table.

"Hey, I'm sorry," you called out. "I can't sit down with you because my manager checks the CCTV, but I can make it up to you with another cup of coffee. We can talk while I make it."

The brunette nodded, satisfied with your apology, and sat herself on the stool in front of the counter. There was something about you that made Yunjin want to spill her thoughts to you at the first chance; you looked like someone she could trust without hesitation. She had been stealing not-so-subtle glances at you ever since she first entered the store, though you didn't seem to notice.

"I never caught your name," you said, grabbing an empty cup.

"It's… Jen," she said hesitantly.

You sensed her reluctance, possibly due to her fame, so you respected her privacy and didn't press further.

"Nice to meet you, Jen. My name is Y/N," you said, reaching out to shake her hand. She warmly shook your hand, leaning slightly over the counter to give you her best smile with her tongue stuck slightly out between her teeth. 

"Well, Jen, how do you want your coffee? Iced or hot?" you asked, a bit starstruck by how alluring she was, shyly smiling and looking at you under her long curled lashes. 

Her confidence boosted at your reaction to her harmless flirting, and she winked, saying, "Steamy hot."

You snorted, trying to shake off the shivers she sent down your spine. "Coming right up."

The three hours spent with Jen were surprisingly effortless. Beyond her flirtatious facade, she proved to be easy to talk to and incredibly down to earth. She eventually confided in you, admitting that she was an idol of one of Hybe's biggest girl groups, but you treated her just like any other customer, and she appreciated that. During your conversation, she opened up about the challenges of being an idol and shared more personal aspects of her life. It felt like you had known each other for lifetimes and were just catching up on recent events.

Despite knowing that she shouldn't be sharing such personal thoughts with a stranger, Yunjin couldn't help but fall for you. Those short hours were enough for her to fall for you, and she desperately tried to memorize every detail about you within that limited time. The way your hair fell into your eyes, the concern you showed when she mentioned stalkers following her home, the way you laughed at her jokes, and how you blushed at her flirtations—all of it left an indelible impression on her. She knew that this encounter was a one-time thing, and she should forget about you after today, but she couldn't help longing for the possibility of your lives intertwining in the future.

The soft tinkle of the door opening snapped both of you back to reality. You had unconsciously drawn closer as you talked, your forearms almost touching across the counter. Quickly straightening up, you cleared your throat, trying to break free from the trance Jen had somehow pulled you into just by her presence alone. Jen seemed to be equally entranced, shaking her head slightly as she took a sip from her nearly empty mug.

A young girl in her teens bounced into the cafe with glee, her face lighting up with a wide smile.

"Anneyonghaseyo," she greeted you with a bow before turning to Jen. 

"Unnie! I've been looking all over for you." She launched herself at Jen, and you could see the affection between them. “Manager-nim wants us to go back.”

"Oh, okay," Jen replied, her expression slightly disappointed that her time with you was coming to an end. She wished she could spend a lifetime with you, but she knew it wasn't possible.

"Do you want something to go, Manchae?" she asked the younger girl, hoping to prolong her time in the store, even if only for a few more minutes.

"Oooh yes, can I get a chocolate muffin?" Eunchae's eyes lit up at the mention of food.

"One chocolate muffin coming right up," you grinned, heading back to prepare her order.

As you turned away, Eunchae couldn't help but tease her unnie, repeatedly turning her head to look at Jen and then at your silhouette. Yunjin blushed and playfully pushed the taller girl away, not used to this kind of attention.

"Here you go," you said, handing the bag to Eunchae.

As Yunjin reached into her bag to pay, you raised your hand to stop her. "It's on the house."

Yunjin opened her mouth to argue, but you insisted. "As you said, we don't really have that many customers here," you winked, "I'll have to throw them out anyway."

She blushed deeper at the reference of her embarrassing mistake earlier, and you quickly assured her you were joking. Your playfulness only made her blush more, and you found her intriguing—so confident and flirty one moment, and a shy mess the next.

"I'll see you around, Y/N," Yunjin said, extending her hand once again for a shake. She just wanted some kind of physical contact with you, and her hand lingered slightly longer than usual during the handshake. "Thanks for keeping me company."

"It was nice talking to you, Jen," you replied, shaking her hand warmly. You felt a pang of melancholy as this beautiful girl you had just met was leaving. "And it was nice to meet you too, Eunchae."

Eunchae was beaming, fully aware of the conversation happening in front of her. She knew Yunjin had difficulty connecting with people and had remained single for years despite having a long line of admirers. If this cute barista was the one to win over Yunjin’s heart, the maknae was determined to support your happiness. And she usually got her way.

.

.

.

.

For the past several weeks, Eunchae had been giving Yunjin a headache, constantly thinking of ways to persuade her to visit your coffee shop. The rest of the girls caught on to Eunchae's antics, and they joined in, playfully teasing the blonde and suggesting your coffee shop at every opportunity.

Whether it was rain or shine, hunger or thirst, the girls managed to steer the conversation back to you whenever they could.

"Unnie, I'm hungry. I want the muffins at Y/N's."

"Where do you want to hold your birthday party, Chae?"

"Hmm… is Y/N's open?"

"Sakura unnie, let's get drinks tonight."

"Yesss, do you think Y/N's sells soju?"

It was all in good fun, and Yunjin couldn't help but get flustered whenever your name was brought up. However, she stubbornly resisted their suggestions and ignored the members whenever they proposed visiting your shop. The girls were genuinely curious about you, so they convinced Eunchae to take them to your shop during their days off. There, they could see why Yunjin was so enamored with you. Your sweet and soft-spoken demeanor balanced the idol perfectly. 

The girls continued to come up with various schemes to turn their favorite not-couple into an actual couple, but despite their efforts, nothing seemed to work. However, as it turned out, they didn't even need to put in all that effort.  Yunjin and her clumsy self, would end up making a mess and visiting you herself to solve the problem. 

.

.

.

.

Your Monday started off badly. You had just finished a painful statistics class, and your professor grilled you for accidentally falling asleep. It wasn't entirely your fault; the professor had a monotone voice that could put anyone to sleep, talking about magic in a world filled with numbers. Nonetheless, he kept you after class for a whole hour, scolding you with his tone-deaf voice repeatedly.

This left you in a rush to get to the coffee shop without having the chance to grab lunch. You knew your manager would be furious if you were late.

Entering the shop through the back door, you hastily grabbed your apron and hair tie, rushing to the front. Your good friend and coworker, Wheein, leaned on the counter, teasing you with a playful smile as you tried to catch your breath.

"You're really unfit," she calmly remarked, her dimples showing as she teased you.

"Shut…" you panted, "...up."

Wheein laughed and poured you a cup of water.

"There are a bunch of people outside our store today," she said casually, her fingers tapping on the spotless counter.

Furrowing your brows, you looked outside the glass windows and saw groups of people peeking into the store, some even taking photos. You were puzzled as to why they were there.

"What are they doing here?" you asked.

Wheein shrugged, "No idea, I didn't ask. They've been there since I opened, but they never came in."

Just then, three girls entered the store, giggling and looking at you. They whispered among themselves before walking towards the counter.

"Annyeonghaseyo," the first girl said, and the other two burst into a fit of giggles.

"Um, annyeonghaseyo," you blinked, feeling slightly awkward. "What can I get you?"

"Three cinnamon churros and three iced Americanos, please."

You quickly rang up their order while Wheein started working on the drinks. As you prepared the churros, you could hear whispers and the sound of camera clicks from the girls.

Before you could ask what was going on, a few more people entered the store, all behaving similarly to the first group of girls—whispering and looking at you curiously before placing their orders.

"This is crazy," Wheein muttered, just as confused as you. The shop had never seen so many people at once, and they all seemed to be waiting for you before coming in. "Are you a celebrity or something?"

You shook your head, “If I was, I wouldn’t be working part-time in this shitty store with you.”

The blue haired girl chuckled and playfully nudged you, before efficiently handling the growing number of orders.

The rest of the afternoon passed by in a blur. A line formed outside the coffee shop as customers continued to flow in endlessly. You made more churros in four hours than you had in your entire two years of working part-time at the shop. The sudden rush of customers had turned your ordinary day into a surprisingly eventful one, and you couldn't help but wonder what had caused this unexpected influx of people.

It was like this for the rest of the week. Whenever you weren't working, a bunch of people would gather outside the store, and groups of fans would squeal and whisper when they saw you working. Some people even asked for selfies, which you politely declined, but that didn't stop others from sneaking photos of you as you worked. Your manager had caught on to this phenomenon and decided to schedule you to work every day that week, without any sort of raise, and extended the closing time to nine p.m. instead of the usual five p.m.

It turned out that a famous food sharing account had posted something about the coffee shop you worked at, which explained the influx of customers. But for you, it felt more like a punishment than a reward, as it brought only exhausting shifts and the constant invasion of your privacy.

Sighing, you rested your head on one of the tables you were cleaning up. It was Saturday night, and you had finally closed the store after a hectic day, serving hundreds of people all by yourself. Wheein was sick and couldn't make it to her shift, leaving you to handle everything alone.

As you closed your eyes for a moment to daydream about Jen, the alluring girl whose image had been visiting your dreams for months, the familiar sound of the door opening made you jump up. You cursed yourself internally for forgetting to lock the door after closing hours.

"Sorry, we're clo—" Your words caught in your throat as your eyes met the captivating pair of brown eyes that had haunted your thoughts ever since your last encounter.

"Jen," you said breathlessly, thinking you'd never see her again, at least not in person. After all, she was a famous idol, and her group's newest comeback had topped the charts.

"Hey, Y/N," Yunjin's eyes crinkled as she smiled at you. Her hair was now dyed a dark shade of brown, and she was dressed in a casual sweater and jeans, still as breathtakingly beautiful as ever.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, genuinely surprised to see her in your store again after months of no contact.

"Are you okay? Did something happen?" Your concern for her warmed her heart, sending tingles down her spine. Seeing you in person again, after months of longing, brought all the feelings she had tried to keep at bay rushing back without control.

She stepped closer to you to grab your hands, “I’m here to apologize.” 

"For what?" you inquired, your cheeks tinged with a shade of pink from the touch of her hands.

“For the post.”

“Jen, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Yunjin took a deep breath, mustering the courage to share her most embarrassing secret.

"I have a finsta account where I rate the churros that I try," she confessed, looking a bit bashful. "And someone found out it was me running the account. My fans have been visiting all the places I posted about."

"You're the reason why I've been working my ass off this week?" you blurted out ridiculously.

"Yes," Yunjin whispered, hanging her head and still holding onto your hands. "I'm sorry."

You were silent for a few seconds, and Yunjin feared she had upset you. But then, you started shaking, and soon you were laughing uncontrollably. She was confused at first but couldn't help but smile as she joined you in a fit of giggles.

"You're so lame," you gasped out between laughs. "A churro rating account?"

"What?" Yunjin pouted, her nose scrunching. "I love churros."

You were once again captivated by this girl standing in front of you. In front of thousands of people, she was Huh Yunjin, the talented idol topping charts and taking home awards. But here, with you, she was a dorky girl with a cute smile and a loud voice.

“Do you want some?” You said, “I made a few extra today.”

Yunjin nodded enthusiastically, always ready for a few tasty treats. "I am really sorry for the trouble it has caused you," she said once you came back with a bag of churros.

"It's fine," you shrugged. After all, it wasn't really Yunjin's fault. She was just a woman who liked her churros.

"Let me make it up to you," Yunjin suggested, her eyes slightly closed in anticipation. “Let me take you out for dinner today.”

She had decided it was now or never, after months of thinking about you. She couldn't ignore her feelings any longer, especially after seeing your pictures all over social media with her fans calling you hot, bringing out her possessive side. She was lovesick, and the only cure was you. 

After what felt like hours, you finally said, "Sure. Let me finish cleaning up, and we can go."

Yunjin did her best to help with the cleaning, and within half an hour, you found yourself sitting in her car as she drove you to get, as she put it, the best pizza to ever exist in the world.  As the car moved along the city streets, you found it hard to tear your eyes away from Yunjin's side profile. The way she furrowed her brows in concentration, the slight tilt of her head as she listened to the music, it all felt incredibly endearing. You couldn't help but feel a strong attraction to her, and the desire to lean over and kiss her grew with each passing moment.

At a red light, Yunjin turned to meet your eyes with a soft smile on her lips.

"Whatcha thinking about, pretty?" she winked at you playfully.

Without thinking, you blurted out, "You." 

Both of you blushed at the sudden confession, and Yunjin cleared her throat, quickly averting her eyes. Fortunately, the light turned green, saving her from further embarrassment.

Inside, Yunjin's heart was racing with anticipation. She couldn't believe that you might feel the same way about her. Summoning her courage, she reached over and gently held your hand that was resting on your lap. The moment your fingers interlocked, it felt familiar and comfortable, as if you were meant to be together.

Yunjin's hand never left yours during the entire ride, not when she reached over to grab the box of pizza, or when you maneuvered your way to her dorm. You were worried about meeting her members, but she assured you that they were outside grabbing a late dinner. Oh, how wrong she was.

Eunchae had excitedly called her unnies when she saw Yunjin sneak out, and the group decided to wait for her in the shared living room instead of actually going out for dinner. They were so eager that they could barely contain their excitement when they heard the keys jingle to their dorm.

"I think we have some soda in the fridge. I’ll go grab them," Yunjin said as she gently pulled you inside.

"Can you grab some for us, too?" Chaewon suddenly said, scaring the wits out of both of you.

You quickly dropped Yunjin’s hand and hid yourself behind the taller girl, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the sudden attention.

"What are you guys doing here?" Yunjin spluttered, slightly embarrassed at being caught.

"We wanted to meet Y/N," Sakura said slyly.

"Hi," you said shyly, feeling like a deer caught in headlights.

"Hello, Y/N. You are as beautiful as Yunjin described," Kazuha said, throwing a teasing smile at her unnie.

"So slayyy," Chaewon added, bursting into a fit of giggles.

"Guys," Yunjin groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. She should have known her members would embarrass her like this.

"Okay, you met her. We’re going to go to my room now," Yunjin announced, attempting to lead you away from her teasing members.

However, Eunchae wasn't ready to give up her time with you just yet. She quickly bounded over to you and grabbed your other hand, using her maknae charms to persuade you to stay.

"But I wanted to watch a movie with Y/N unnie," the maknae pouted and begged you with her puppy-dog eyes.

Unable to resist Eunchae's charm, you looked at Yunjin before nodding and saying, "Sure. What movie do you want to watch?"

Yunjin groaned again, this was going to be a long night. 

The group ended up watching one of the Conjuring movies. You were cuddled up in Yunjin’s arms, seeking comfort and protection from the scary parts. It was amusing how Yunjin tried to pretend not to be scared and wrapped her arms around your shoulders protectively. You could feel her whole body shaking as she tried not to scream from the jump scares.

Under the flickering lights of the TV, you looked up at the girl you had met only twice, yet it felt like you had known her for years. Deciding to let your heart take the lead, you craned your neck and placed a soft kiss on the corner of her mouth.

Yunjin’s eyes nearly bulged out at the feeling of your lips on her face, and she felt her heart pounding even faster than the jump scares had made her feel. If this was heaven, she would die happy in your arms.

Giggling at the scene in front of her, Eunchae whispered loudly, “Yunjin unnie looks like a fish.”

The rest of the members quickly turned to look at Yunjin’s expression.

“You have it bad, Jennifer,” Chaewon said in English, sounding like a sorority girl. 

“Unnie’s always had it bad,” Eunchae shrugged, “Her post was like a lovesick schoolgirl.”

“Yeah, she even wrote a song for Y/N,” Kazuha agreed.

Curious, you asked Eunchae to show you the post on her finsta (much to Yunjin’s protest). 

Churros were a bit sweet: 6/10

The cute barista was even sweeter: 100/10

Would definitely fall in love with her twice, in every lifetime. 

I hope she felt the same about me.

Maybe if I write a song for her, she would know how I feel.

Attached to the post were a few photos of the churros you made for her. And in the last photo, there was a blurry picture of you standing by the counter, focused on making coffee.

You looked up at Yunjin, who was hiding her face behind her hands, blushing furiously at being caught. After all those months of thinking about this beautiful stranger and listening to her songs, you were over the moon to discover that she had written those songs for you.

“I’d fall in love with you more than twice.” 

[thescarletnargacuga]

Showtime request! How about a fic where Caine and Pomni get into a huge fight but in the end they are able to literally kiss and make up?

A/N:...is it okay if I make this Harlequin?👉👈

SAY THAT AGAIN

A HARLEQUIN AU SHOWTIME ONESHOT

Harlequin AU credit: @tadc-harlequin-au @iamespecter

WARNING: violence, swearing, hurt/comfort

~~~

Caine leaned over his workshop table. Pomni laid below him, unconscious and quietly rebooting after he painstakingly put her back together piece by piece. "Twenty seven..." He muttered. "Twenty seven times..." He looked to the side. Small scrap pieces littered the floor, including pieces of Pomni's heart. He balled his fists and didn't flinch when Pomni jolted awake.

She gasped and sat up, clutching her chest. It only took her a second to recognize were she was. She sighed and swung her legs over the edge of the table. "Fucking charge attack." She coughed to clear a small amount of dust from her throat and hopped off the table.

Her legs hadn't quite caught up with her and her knees buckled. Caine caught her arm. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Uh, out? I still have a boss to kill."

Caine's voice was rigid, his grip tightened. "No. You can't go back to that boss."

Pomni glared and tried to pull her arm away. "Yes, the fuck, I can! And I will! Let go!" It surprised her how hard it was for her to get away from his grasp in that moment.

Caine gripped her by her upper arms hard and made her look at him. "Do you not realize what happened to you!? Your heart-... You are not ready to handle a boss of that caliber! Stay away, for your own sake!"

Pomni bristled. "What, are you saying that I'm WEAK!?" She shoved him away, getting him to let go this time. "You think I can't handle it just because it takes me a few tries?? Fuck you!" She grabbed her sword and turned to leave.

Caine blinked in front of her, cold anger in his eyes. He stood between her and the door. "You're so confident that you're ready?" His cane materialized in his hand and he stamped the ground. Jolts of electricity shot up Pomni's body, stunning her in place. Before she could speak, Caine's hand was around her throat. "Prove it."

Blink.

Pomni immediately swiped her sword at Caine, he dodged and backed off a great distance. Pomni did not have to look away from him to know where they were; the old circus arena. Far from the manor. Far from friends. Far from anyone. He blinked all the way there with her and didn't seem drained in the slightest. "What the fuck has gotten into you!?"

"You said it yourself...you wanted a rematch. Congratulations, you're getting exactly what you wished." Caine stood with both hands resting on top of his cane. A blue aura of electrified energy surrounded him.

Pomni steeled herself in a ready position. In that moment, she wasn't looking at Caine, but the Puppetmaster. Her sword edge came alive with bright gold energy, anger contorting her face. "Fine!! You want me to kick your ass!? I'll tear you a new one!!" She roared, bearing her sharp teeth.

Caine didn't move as Pomni rushed him. His aura alone made the air buzz with static, jolting out against Pomni's sword. She leapt into the air, bringing her heel down. Caine predictably blinked aside and she swept her other leg out when she landed. She kicked out his ankles and he did a back hand spring to recover.

Pomni kept on him, her sword going for his lower chest. He perried her attack with his cane, gold and blue light flashed on impact. Pomni relentlessly cut at him, not a single blow landed. Caine looked bored. "Is this all you're capable of?"

She growled and managed to corner him, her mechanical arm transforming into it's gun state and aiming at his chin. "No."

Caine blinked as the gun fired point blank, blasting apart the ancient circus audience bleachers behind him. He reappeared behind her and elbowed her spine before roundhouse kicking her several feet across the ground.

Pomni recovered and fired her gun twice to keep Caine moving as she charged him again. She needed to wear out that damned blink. Her sword blazed with energy as she struck at him. The razor light wave cut his collar as he dodged.

Caine reacted this time. His eyes went wide for a second before returning to a steely gaze. "Better." He quietly praised as he activated his puppet strings. They grabbed Pomni, freezing her in place. She strained against the strings of energy, glaring daggers at Caine. He spoke only slightly out of breath. "You've improved, but you're not ready. I can find a different boss for you to cut your teeth on."

"The only one I want to sink my teeth into right now is YOU!!" Pomni snarled.

"I'm flattered." Caine cleared his voice, trying to stay focused. "Nevertheless, we're done here."

"This fight is over WHEN I SAY IT'S OVER!!" Pomni's yellow eye glowed brightly. Her whole body ignited with gold energy, severing the strings, and she lunges at Caine with blinding speed.

Caine is caught off guard. He doesn't even have time to focus on a blink as he dodges attack after aggressive attack. She lands a blow from the side of her gun against his head, sending him flying into a support pole.

Caine sees double and barely blinks in time to avoid Pomni fly kicking at his face. The base of the large pole that had cracked when Caine hit it, shattered when Pomni impacted. The center mass of the tent shifted and swayed as the big top partially collapsed.

Pomni lost sight of her target. Her body still ablaze, she never felt so amped for a fight. "WHERE ARE YOU, COWARD!? AFRAID TO FACE ME NOW THAT YOUR PRECIOUS STRINGS CAN'T HOLD ME!?" She looked in all directions, ready to attack at the first glimpse.

Caine was ducking behind the partially fallen section of the tent, shaking the dizziness off. "Since when could she do that??" He whispered to himself. His cane crackled with energy as he calculated his next move.

Pomni spotted a Caine shaped silhouette behind the tent flap. "There you are." She rushed and slashed, cutting through the tent and hitting the target. It wasn't Caine. Her sword was lodged into the face of a dummy.

BOOM!!

A powerful shockwave threw her off her feet. Her sword was twisted out of her grasp, still stuck in the dummy, and she was tangled in the cables that had attached the tent to the fallen pole. Dust and debris clouded her vision, blinding her from targeting Caine as he rushed her.

Caine's energy clashed with hers as he twisted his cane into the cables around Pomni's gun arm and held it there, firmly tying it in place away from his body. He grabbed the wrist of her empty sword hand. He straddled her waist, pinning her fully to the ground.

Their energized auras angrily swirl around them. They panted, both partially exhausted. His eyes are a bit warmer now, if still pained. Pomni was still glaring pure spite.

"Cheater..." Pomni growled. She tried to kick, but the cables tied her legs together.

"I prefer the term: resourceful." Caine huffed.

"I don't care what you say. I'm going after that boss." She hissed between her teeth. "I'm stronger than EVER! So strong I can make you nervous! I'm GOING!!"

Caine sighed. "Pomni....please don't. Yes, you are very strong. You have some new tricks, and I am very proud of you, but-"

"BUT!?!? There's ALWAYS a but!! What is it Caine?? WHY ARE YOU HOLDING ME BACK!? WHAT ARE YOU SO AFRAID OF!?!?" She shouted, leaning up towards his face as much as she could.

Caine was too tired to lie. "Losing you..." His energy calmed and dissipated.

The harsh glow of Pomni's eye faded as she stared up at him in disbelief. "...say that again."

"I'm afraid...of losing you. This last time you died-...your heart was in pieces. I thought your soul piece was destroyed. I thought-" Caine's eyes watered. He looked away from her as he struggled to compose himself. "Without your soul piece...you can't come back from the void. I would never see you again."

Pomni laid her head back, watching him closely. This wasn't a trick. She could hear the sincerity in his voice. "Oh my god...you care."

He looked back at her. "Yes. I have come to care deeply for you. So much so that, every time you die, a part of me dies too. When you throw yourself to the wolves over and over and over....I experience a pain I didn't think possible, and I'm no stranger to pain, Pomni." The floodgates had opened. His heart was pouring out it's long repressed emotions and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Pomni laid stunned beneath him. "When...?"

"The moment you defied your directive. Do you know how difficult that is for so many puppets? You were becoming your own person. I knew you were special, but I never dared imagined... Just how special you would be."

Pomni tried lifting her arm, suddenly remembering she was restrained. "Let me up?"

With his hands on her, he blinked her out of the cables to a standing position away from the tent wreckage. Pomni changed her mechanical arm back to normal and slid her wrist free of his grasp. She took a deep breath. "Are you saying...what I think you're saying?" She kept her eyes on his, daring him not to look away.

"I'm in love with you." He said quietly with a twinge of fear in his eyes from the vulnerability.

Pomni's heart sang in her chest. She'd never given it much thought, she was always so busy with combat, but now that she really looks at him in this light. He's incredibly attractive. He's always been there for her; willing to drop everything to rush to her aid, no matter the danger. How many times has he spent the work and resources to bring her back? And when they'd get drunk...he felt like a real friend. Something she didn't think she could have in this life, let alone something more.

She stepped closer, the uncertainty of what to do now made her anxious. "You mean it?"

"You can crush my soul piece yourself if I'm lying."

She reached out, gently placing her hand against his lower jaw. Caine closed his eyes, held her hand to his face and leaned into her touch. Pomni rested her mechanical hand against his chest, next to his heart. Caine held her around her waist, pulling her into him.

"It's okay if you're unsure..." He said with a low tone in his voice. "...I'd wait a lifetime for you."

"I've never been one much for waiting." She pulled him to her lips as she stood on her toes to kiss him.

The souls within their hearts glowed bright in response to one another. The once violent and unyielding auras around them become welcoming, if with some trepidation.

Even in a world as broken as this, one could still find that missing piece.

[melkyt]

Imagine a Claustrophobic!Law after having to spend however long in that small chest. He does fine on the polar tang, that's his safe space and all in all, it's pretty big, he chooses to go in it and has gotten mostly used to it. Plus it's metal, not wood, a small difference but it is enough for his mind.

There are moments when emotions are high that there is a lingering panic if he has to go check on the engine or anywhere that proves a tight squeeze. His crew knows and usually handles it for him. 

Though on other ships, Law absolutely refuses to go under the deck or anywhere where there is no clear view of the sky. Where there is only the creaking of the wood and the pulsing fear left from that night.

Part of him was dreading going on the straw hat ship even though they were going toward his goal, it was still a ship. Made out of wood, and a place where he will be trapped on the ocean for weeks, lots of ways to get his panic to surface.

It's fine for the first few days, he stays on the deck and even when he doesn't go down to eat, they don't force him, just Sanji brings him food without a word. Luffy would bring it but they all know he would eat it all on the way.

Luffy still runs up with his own plate to hang out with Traffy. However, he gets bored of that quickly and just moves their lunches or dinners up to the deck. Moving around Law instead of forcing him to adapt to their schedule, not that they have one in the first place.

Law did not expect them to adjust that way. Usually, in places where he is a stranger, he just deals with what he has to do to avoid an attack and then recover at home if he has to miss sleep or meals.

It's all fine until there is a storm, a big one. Law still is set on staying on deck. He gets under the mast but it does not help with the wind.

Luffy is out there because he wants to play in the rain until Nami yells that they will both get sick and they need to get inside.

Considering Law feels sick just looking at the door leading inside. He decides to take his chances outside.

Luffy is about to go in but looks back to see that Law hasn't moved. So he plops down under the mast, yelling to Nami that they will go in later, this is too much fun. He turns back to Law. "Why don't you like the Sunny?" A pout, and a gaze that seems to see all the way through Law.

"The ship is fine, I just like the rain" Law shifts his weight, putting his sword between them as though it is a shield.

"The sunny's a lion but she won't eat you, she's nice" Luffy slides closer, peering under the brim of Law's hat. He takes note of how white Law's knuckles are over the sword. "We can go to Zoro's room, can still see the sky"

"I'm fine here" Law hunches down, he will still be able to know that he's trapped by the glass. He could always use his power to get out but that takes concentration and the rising panic never helps.

"Then I'll stay with you Traffy" Luffy slumps against him, stretching out on the wooden bench.

"No, we have a fight, getting sick is a waste of time." Law grumbles, he knows he should listen to his own advice.

"Then we should go in, how about the aquarium, it's like your ship" As in, most of it is metal outside the glass looking in on the fish.

Law bites his bottom lip. Luffy is not about to give up, and he is starting to get cold. "Fine" He huffs, getting up.

Luffy grabs him by the hand, dragging him into the ship. Law is careful to keep his eyes down, and not register that the walls feel as though they are getting smaller around him. He forces his lungs to move in a steady controlled rhythm.

Luffy drags him up the stairs, each step making his breath catch, Law has to squeeze his eyes to keep the walls from closing in.

It is not any better in the somewhat open space that is Zoro's room and crow's nest.

The storm makes the room look smaller than it is, darker. Flashes of lighting illuminate it every few seconds but it is not enough. Law swallows, he feels that his legs will give out any second. "Strawhat... Luffy," His voice shakes, making him sound weak. He hates it. "I need to get out of here" Law lifts his hand. "Room" The bubble spreads out, and he searches for anything that he can switch spots with to get outside. This was a bad idea.

That tightness in his chest, the gasps for breath, weakness in his knees. "Sham..." His voice breaks, and he feels his throat tighten. His powers won't answer him. 

"Traffy, hey hey" Luffy places his hands on either side of Law's face. His hands are surprisingly soft for someone who constantly fights, not a single callouse on his palms. "Look at me, I'm here, it's me" His smile is as bright as always. 

Law squeezes his eyes shut and then opens them focusing on Luffy. "It's dark, I can't do this again" He huffs, the memories of that night refuse to fade. He can see the inside of the treasure chest where he was trapped. Luffy's joy can only just barely push away his pain. His fingers shake. He tries to find his voice again, only to fail, he tries again. "Shambles." This time his power fails him, "He died while I was trapped, I can't be trapped, I can't be here, not in this cage" Law would be franticly looking around the place, if not for Luffy holding onto him. He would be pulling away if the touch was not so comfortable if it was not the only thing that grounds him. 

Luffy bites his bottom lip, thinking for only a brief moment. He drops his arms to wrap them around Law's trembling shoulders, falling back, taking Law with him. They fall in a sprawl of limbs. Luffy only just manages to keep his head from hitting the wall. 

Law is too paralyzed by his panic which is getting worse with every passing second to even complain about it. 

"Sanji, Nami, and Robin are also afraid of small rooms, like you Traffy" Luffy brushes his hand across the wall until it comes in contact with a lever. "Franky made this to help" It was Chopper's idea, something that would help if they couldn't go outside with all the storms in the grand line. "Look, look" 

Law shakes his head, he has his fists clutching at Luffy's shirt. Not looking is better. He is starting to calm down, just has to still his heart enough for his powers to react. 

"You trust me right Traffy?" Luffy massages the base of his skull. "It's pretty, like you shishishi" He brushes Law's cheek where he knows one of the smaller pale spots is. 

It takes a minute but Law gives in to the insistent nudging. When he looks up his breath is taken away, and his panic fades almost as quickly as it came. They are no longer in a stifling closed room. No, above them is a bright swirling sky with stars as far as the eye can see. "What is this?" 

"The sky!" Luffy points at a cluster of stars. "That one is my favorite because it looks like meat" He wraps an arm around Law as the man turns to rest his head on Luffy's chest. "And that one there looks like a heart, so when I miss you I came here to look at it" 

Luffy continues to point out all the constellations that he finds fun, making most of them up on the spot. 

Law does not say anything, listening to the even drone of Luffy's voice until he can breathe normally again, he listens until he falls asleep, and even then, his dreams are pleasant. Something that never happens after his claustrophobia flares up. It has been a long time since he has felt safe anywhere but the polar tang, yet now that is what Luffy gives him. Safety and a peaceful night, and the love that accepts him as he is no matter what. 

[d34dlysinner]

Since I'm currently recovering from the flu, I've been wondering how would the kings react to MC being sick with a fever? (You can also add Marbas, Buer, and Morax if you like!)

Satan pressed his hand against your forehead and checked your temperature. "You're indeed burning up...", he says to himself as he asks Sitri to contact one of the doctors. It's Hell, more specifically Gehenna, and everyone here in his territory arrives and leaves in the same state. So he wouldn't risk him taking care of you. He's not bad at it, but being a doctor isn't his job. He will help you get the stuff you need and check if you've taken your medicine. Mammon became worried at your weakened state as he asked you if you were feeling alright. His hands which would normally wander to your bottom would this time rest on your forehead as he feels the heat radiating from your body. The moment you said that you felt sick he asked someone to bring in doctors. He wants you to feel at your best in Hell and will make sure that nothing will harm you, not even something as 'little' as a cold. Leviathan saw how drained and pale you looked and instantly knew that you were sick. 'Do you need energy again?', he asked himself as he calculated the last time you got devil essence. When he realized that it wasn't that long ago, he knew that you had some sort of illness. He demanded the first devil he saw to bring a doctor. After that, he made sure that you were put on bedrest until you were good again. Beelzebub would drag you to the doctors in Paradise Lost and wait there with you. He would also use this as an excuse to avoid his work and his responsibilities. He said with a huge smile on his face "Sorry, Bael... The child of Solomon is sick, so. They'll need me to take care of them... You want to come over? No. Not needed.", he said on the phone before quickly shutting down the call. After the quick appointment with the doctors, he got some instructions. It was pretty simple for him... And boring. So he dropped you off at Avisos and made sure the others would help you. He'll occasionally come and bring some food he made. Whether you want to consume that stuff or not is up to you. He could've left you at Paradise Lost, but he knew it'd be harder to see you at times and to help a bit. Marbas always knows what to do when someone's under the weather, but he saw this opportunity to keep you longer at Paradise Lost. Also, he couldn't do much without clear orders from Lucifer. So, he settled with letting you take a room in the hospital and coming in the room for daily checkups. Until you're better again. Buer would instantly prescribe you medicine. He allows you to rest in one of the rooms with private rooms. This way no devil could annoy you. He was a good caretaker and made nice teas. Let's say that you were cured very fast. Morax has the ability to take away your illness and other pains in seconds, but that would also mean that he would be sick and that he'd see you go the moment he did that. He asked permission to you if you were alright with staying in Paradise Lost for a while until you were cured. You knew his abilities but also understood that it'd be sad, especially for him, to leave him the moment he took over your cold or flu.