#like they all have a reason as to why they exist. like something hints or is a metaphor or whatever from the album | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

porcelainbirdss · 1 month ago

Text

paper heart

summary: you thought he was just kind. everyone did. what you failed to discern, however, was the visage of something darker lurking underneath the man’s grinning face. such a pity, it was.

cw: fem!reader, yandere Phainon, mentions of death, descriptions of violence (not towards reader), grief, manipulation, stalking, obsessive and unhealthy behaviors, emotional dependency, hinted depression, open ending. ||wc: 13k

a sorrowful melody filled the air as your fingertips slowly dragged across white and black tiles. they were covered in a sheen layer of dust, probably because you abandoned your small hobby some time ago. you don’t know why your instincts told you to sit there, and play when you obviously should be doing something else — but they did. it was only logical, in a way — people upon meeting with peril often freeze. their reason fails them, and instead of acting rational, they begin to work their most favored instrument, for example.

once you reached the end of notations, tune abruptly stopping, you flipped the music sheet, and a very brief thought passed your disarrayed thoughts.

you needed to run.

it all began so long ago — the horrors, hidden below veils upon veils of primitive happiness and joy. all the dangers and pain, tucked away under the cloth depicting a face of your beloved (well, perhaps you should be using a past tense when referring to him in such an affectionate way).

you don’t know where the line between normalcy and insanity began to blur. where the borders separating an ordinary feeling and something much more unsettling crashed, becoming one. no matter how perceptive you were, it slipped past your notice.

maybe mulling over your demise was never the point — you could have been as well as doomed the second your eyes first met.

it has been thirteen months since the death of your mother.

a year and one month, then. you didn’t like counting the time in such a trivial way, though. a mere numer 'one' could never possibly depict the sorrow dragging your whole body down. numbers of a bigger scale were suitable — thirteen may be a large quantity. it surely was, considering the context of your current situation. thirteen months, so three hundred ninety six days filled with woe. enough to showcase all the seconds you spent on practically falling asleep within yourself.

your day to day life was the same, always following a routine you didn’t have the strength to change. it’s not like you were particularly crushed under the weight of your experiences, no, you just… got used to it. the silence. the dust gathering on the shelves. unused cups, and too many utensils in your drawers. abandoned music sheets, sitting obediently on your piano, opened in the middle — their melody never to be finished by the original musician.

it wasn’t well, nor good, and your existence seemed to lack in any rhythm — but it was bearable.

and, truth be told, you wholeheartedly believed it would continue to stay like so for the unforeseen future. except it didn’t.

as your shoes clacked over the cobblestone road, eyes trailing after all the cracks under your feet, you began to think about dinner. another feeble attempt at composing your life together, and it would probably end up in vain as any other — but hey, everything starts with something, and food was the most fundamental part of staying on your legs (at least in the physical sense).

the market spread widely before you, stalls upon stalls standing next to each other, filled up with various fruit and meat. people were yelling over the clamor, exchanging goods for currency. if that wasn’t the prime example of a beating heart, then you don’t know what is.

you stepped forwards, vision taking in your possible options. money was never a problem for you — except you took far too little this time, so perhaps it would be good to stick to something on the cheaper side. strong wing carried over the intense scent of peaches, instantly making your mouth water. huh, you hadn’t had them in a long time. they were always your favorite. maybe not the most suitable for dinner, but still satiating enough.

as you dragged your feet over to the stall, a group of children ran by your side, one of them accidentally knocking against your hip. they didn’t even turn to apologize, too absorbed within their fun. you could briefly discern the nursery rhyme they were singing, happily prancing around and skipping by multitudes of people.

"one for sorrow, two for mirth,"

you meekly greeted the vendor, gently grasping a singular peach within your fingers, and inspecting it with your keen gaze.

"three for a wedding, four for a birth,"

the colors were intense, orange and red seeping together into a flury of shades, creating appealing streaks. you almost smiled to yourself.

"five for silver, six for gold,"

once you pressed your joints, the fruit easily caved in. ah, on the other hand, perhaps it was overripe? considering how strongly it smelled, it was a possibility.

"seven for a secret ne’er to be told,"

you asked the seller for the cost — and seriously, was he a lunatic? who in their right mind would spend so much on peaches, especially when they were mere days away from practically rotting?

"eight for a wish, nine for a kiss,"

you scoffed under your breath, complaining about how unreasonable the price was. the man told you to take it or leave it.

"ten for a bird you must not miss,"

still, you kind of wanted those peaches — from what you deduced, no one else in the closest proximity was selling them. you either bid goodbye to all the money in your wallet, or…

"eleven for hope, twelve for health,"

with that, you offered to bargain. the vendor agreed. it of course didn’t go as you would have liked it to, and now you were getting irritated. soon your conversation changed into something resembling a barking match, with you yelling at the man and saying he was a scammer. he snarled back at you every time. people were staring. at some point you wanted to back out from the pitiful charade you caused, but your honor didn’t let you.

"thirteen beware of the devil himself!”

as you opened your mouth to spit another insult at the seller, a hand gently gripped your shoulder. you jolted up, startled. your head whipped towards the one who decided to interrupt you, ready to snap at them too — and you’d probably do so, if not for who that was.

a familiar face with that ever-present kind smile. one of the Chrysos Heirs. the fair, tousled locks and rather outstanding garments left no question within you — Lord Phainon. you swallowed thickly, eyebrows narrowing.

"my, i’m sorry. did i startle you, miss?" he immediately jumped to apologies, confusing you even further. "i just wanted to see if everything was alright with you two. of course, i didn’t mean to pry, however…" he chuckled, taking a small pause, "well. it seems there’s trouble?"

you simultaneously wanted to shake and nod your head. for whatever reason, you felt slightly stunted — his voice sounded nice. it reminded you of the way mourning doves chirp in the morning, all soothing and sweet. then, there was his smile, maybe capable of competing with the very sun hanging above your heads. a row of white teeth along with twins of blue crinkling in the corners. a picture of perfection. how come you never payed any attention to him?

upon your lack of reaction, a hand waved in front of your eyes. "…iss. miss? you still with me?"

you blinked twice, rapidly pulled out of your temporary stupor. oh. it would seem he was talking to you, and you remained unresponsive. what a way to make a fool out of yourself.

"ah, yeah, sorry." you forced out awkwardly, scratching the nape of your neck. "just got lost in thought."

at that, Phainon snickered. his attention returned to the vendor, and he pointed towards the peaches — cursed objects of your dismay. "alright! kind sir, i’d like to buy a few." he smiled politely at the man.

you observed him purchase your desired fruit with the slightest of disappointment, paying without any complaints or hesitation. then, he turned to you, and practically pushed the paper bag into your arms. "i’m— is that for me?" you stammered, eyes widening.

"of course." the corners of his lips lifted even further upwards, forming into a grin. "i just hope you don’t mind?"

how could you possibly mind? even if he felt like doing charity work out of pity, it still meant a lot to you. for quite some time, you hardly received any sort of kindness. perhaps that’s what you’ve lacked for all this time.

when you noticed some other people lining up behind you, you stepped to the side, Phainon following in tow. "i don’t mind. thank you, Lord—"

"let’s not use the honorifics, hm?" he chimed in before you could even finish your sentence, swaying his hand dismissively.

you nodded, a somewhat bashful smile forming on your face. you felt kind of perplexed by the whole exchange, but nevertheless, it was a nice change of pace. "fine with me. oh, by the way, my name’s—"

he cut in again. "[name], am i right?"

upon hearing that, you let out a clipped laugh. how did he even know? well, it’s not like you’re alienating yourself from the rest of citizens, but hey. Phainon was at least a few ranks above you, and from what you could discern, people of higher status rarely concerned themselves with identities of the commoners.

you itched to ask: how’d you know?, but held your tongue — that would be surely impolite. "yes, you got that right."

"well, it was nice to meet you, [name]." he said, tone remaining light and jovial, mouth still stretched into a grin. you wondered how is it possible his cheeks didn’t hurt from the constant strain. "enjoy your peaches!"

Phainon was halfway swiveling on his heel, ready to walk away — and you, upon some godforsaken impulse, gripped his wrist. he stopped in his tracks, turning to you with a quizzical expression.

"uh— maybe you’d like one?" you queried, hastily reaching into the bag, and pulling the fruit out. "i mean… you bought them for me, so it’s only fair."

his irises took your face in (maybe a bit too intently for your liking), and he looked seconds away from bursting into a triumphant laughter. for what reason, you honestly didn’t know. "sure, thank you." he nodded, grasping the peach from your palm.

you followed in tow, because — why not? you were hungry, and the sight of his teeth sinking into the tender flesh caused your stomach to rumble, reminding of its discomfort. "oh, my! these are great." you remarked casually, wondering whether you should be acting so easy-going with a Chrysos Heir. anyway, you’re not the one to blame, are you?

"they are." he affirmed, smiling when he took another bite. juice seeped down his hand, slipping under the sleeve, which caused him to let out a dismayed yelp.

you laughed at the sight. he laughed harder.

the sun shone brightly, and you didn’t even know him, but felt a sting of familiarity in your chest. Phainon’s strands of hair billowed straight in his face, tousled by the strong gusts of wind, and nothing seemed to matter at that moment. thoughts of any morose kind left your exhausted brain, leaving you with that blissful emptiness. there was only him, you, and those damned peaches.

after that, your friendship with Phainon unfortunately only grew in its size. to this day, you aren’t sure what tempted you to let him practically snake his way into your life. perhaps it was the fact you were lonely, and grief-shaken — upon your mother’s passing, none was the same, and everyone seemed to turn their backs at you. it hurt like hell, so any kind of company satiated you. well, Phainon wasn’t just any kind. he was incredibly sweet, and helpful, and sometimes you caught yourself thinking he was everything you needed and more.

at first, your meetings were coincidental (but from the retrospective, they probably weren’t). you were doing some shopping, and he just happened to stumble across you on the street. the man was sitting in that lovely garden, surrounded by prancing chimeras, and you’d accidentally cross ways. things were falling into place, and fate seemed to be tethering you both — so you only got closer, and closer.

the bond between you tightened with every passing month, until you found out it’s already been a year, and your cursed brain decided to bestow you with its worst gift. a crush. an infatuation, of sorts.

sharing your sorrows came easier, and Phainon was only more eager to hear you out. it placated the thunderstorm in your heart enough to let the gates down — you invited him in, completely willingly. you initiated the acts that would later prove to be your doom, and now you couldn’t even find a suitable excuse. after all, no one forced you to spend most of your free time with him. not a single person gripped you by the shoulders, shaking, and commanding you: stick with him, and ignore all the times when that borderline manic smile failed to reach his eyes.

you think you’ll regret not backing out when you still had the chance forever.

air in the antique bookstore was thick, making your lungs heavy as you accidentally inhaled another portion of dust, the little speckles seating themselves uncomfortably in your nostrils. you wanted to sneeze, however held the insistent urge back, mindful of every other patron — there weren’t many people here, but still, you’d rather not startle anyone.

you flipped to another page of that certain memoir which managed to catch your attention. the paper seemed fragile and yellowed, already damaged by years of sun exposure, and the spine was pretty much cracked in half. that didn’t matter, though — a thing bearing so many profound memories will remain beautiful, even if it was to be tossed into a fiery pit.

memoirs and biographies alike were always your favorite. you don’t know why, but they carried a certain sense of comfort — death was inevitable in human existence, but if you write your life down, you’ll stay alive in the minds of others (at least to some extent). books, unlike people, do not have a lifespan. they will not perish, unless someone burns or destroys them.

that was soothing. literature won’t leave, nor will it abandon you. it is definitive. it is attested. it is a certainty which cannot be guaranteed in every case. memories will not slip you away, as long as you tuck them onto a piece of paper — be it a simple notebook, or a diary. human brain is unable of perceiving the recollections properly after some amount of time — it will mix everything up, having you debate whether it truly happened or not. books weren’t like that. they won’t fail you nor bend the reality.

you turned to another page when a doorbell rang through the space, the sound of silent greeting gracing your ears. somebody new came in. you decided to ignore them for now, intently reading through the sentences to discern if this specific lecture was genuinely up to your taste (because you didn’t feel like spending another sum of money on something you’ll drop sooner than later).

and as you were busying yourself with that, a pair of palms suddenly obscured your vision — you’d probably jump up in fright if not for the fact your nervous system was already used to such endeavors. you giggled meekly under your breath, gently shutting the book.

"guess who." rang the sing-song voice, so familiar and saccharine.

you rolled your eyes, a weak smile tugging the corners of your lips upwards. "hm, i’m not sure. who could it be?" you huffed, swiftly tugging the hands away from your face, and turning to see who decided on surprising you.

obviously, it was no revelation when your irises locked with the radiant pools of blue, already grinning at you so widely. or perhaps it was? you honestly didn’t expect to see Phainon here out of all places — sure, judging people by a stereotypical lens was wrong, but you would have never thought he took any interest in literature.

Phainon pouted at your words, the corners of his lips curling downwards in a pitiful expression. he honestly reminded you of a kicked puppy. "ah, [name], i’m so hurt. it’s me, obviously!" the man whined, one of his arms attempting to sneak around your shoulders. you eluded the touch.

"well, hello there." you sighed, wry amusement lacing your tone. then, you thought to ask: "what are you doing here?"

a silly question it was, because obviously he didn’t visit an antique bookstore to pick strawberries.

your friend hummed under his breath, eyes briefly flickering over the books, finally locking on the one you were holding. "i like reading from time to time. by the way, is that another memoir?" he inquired innocently.

you nodded. “yeah. why?"

"nothing, nothing." he waved his hand dismissively, a chuckle slipping past his lips. "you just read so much of them. don’t you ever get bored?"

your mouth opened to grant him with a response, but then your brain lagged. a very silent, practically non-existent alarm rang in the back of your mind, causing you to pause. when did you ever tell him about your fondness for this specific genre? well, it’s not like you were actively trying to keep it a secret, but still. you both rarely conversed about such things, especially your reading hobby.

anyway, you’re probably acting irrational right now. you must have told him before, and it simply escaped your memory.

you cleared your throat, putting the book back on the shelf. for whatever reason, you didn’t feel like purchasing it anymore. "no, not really. they’re interesting." you answered without much commitment.

Phainon gave a noise of acknowledgment, his smile growing into a grin. "is that so? well actually, i like them too."

"i have plenty at my house." you said, irises avoiding his face. the expression he donned was practically blinding. "if you want to, i can lend you some."

the fact he also enjoyed memoirs didn’t seem particularly believable to you, but you decided to indulge him nonetheless. after all, he was your friend. your only one.

(not to mention you may have been crushing on him).

"that would be nice!” he replied instantly, and you thought if you squinted enough, you’d manage to spot the tail wagging behind him excitedly. "do you have the time?"

"as in… right now?" you queried, but before you even affirmed, Phainon was already dragging you out of the store. you didn’t protest. whenever you did, saying something that didn’t especially please the man, the look on his face always fell so somberly. you hated that sight.

with that, the both of you went to your home. to be fair, you visited him more often than he actually visited you — so as you opened the door, you immediately began apologizing about the mess (which wasn’t overly prominent, but a lot of dust gather around, and you didn’t have the strength to clean up).

"again, sorry. i just didn’t really have the time to tidy recently.” you let the white lie easily slip off of your tongue, slowly putting your shoes away.

Phainon looked at you as if you were crazy. "[name], i already told you i don’t mind. my place isn’t the most perfect either." he laughed merrily, patting your back.

you reciprocated his smile, internally grateful for how understanding the man was. his gaze was always relentlessly kind (spare for the times when he stared blankly into the distance, blue irises completely dull), and never once you thought he appeared anyhow judgmental.

"well, anyway. about the books…" you began, stepping closer to the shelf in your living room, stuffed to the brim with lectures. "anything specific you’d like to read about?" you asked, knowing the memoirs spread across a rather wide range of topics.

"your favorite ones." Phainon chimed, following in tow.

you huffed out a hushed chuckle, quickly taking out at least five of your beloved titles. he was really sweet if he wanted to read your favorites, and it made your heart clench happily. "here you go." you handed him the books, carefully balancing them on the man’s palms.

you wholeheartedly believed he’d at least check out their backs, interested in the contents — but his intense gaze remained glued to yours. now that you think about it, this occurrence was somewhat common. one time you went to a restaurant, and Phainon, instead of seeing what the menu had to offer, continued to stare at you with a dumb grin. he ended up ordering the same dish as you. or, for example, when you visited him, and asked whether he could pour you some juice — that day was beyond scorching hot, so you were parched. Phainon immediately agreed, but as he was filling up your glass, he seemed to get distracted. the juice overflowed, spilling all across his lap, and he only stopped when you yelled at him.

the man either loved daydreaming, or analyzing your face contours in depth. you surely hoped it wasn’t the latter option (not because you’d mind — it simply made you feel overly exposed).

"don’t hurry with reading them all." you offered him a wry smile, receiving a nod of understanding in return. "anyway, maybe you’d like some tea?”

Phainon sat by the table, placing the books on its surface. "sure, why not." he replied, lazily opening one of them, and skimming through the pages without actually processing the words. if not for the fact his leg was bouncing, you’d think he was the perfect picture of peace now — light gently illuminating the galant features, long eyelashes casting shadows on his cheeks.

when he found you staring (even though you just internally berated him for doing the same thing), he sent you a knowing smile, eyebrows arching upwards. you cleared your throat awkwardly, hastily disappearing into the kitchen without a further comment.

once the tea was done, you settled it on the table, seating yourself as well. to no surprise, Phainon was distracted again, vision focused on your piano standing under one of the windows. it has seen better days — previously taken care of, its jet-black surface shone, reflecting all the light. now it was a mere imitation of its earlier glory, covered in dust and wilted petals of that flower you were too exhausted to water, and too unmotivated to throw away.

"something caught your eye?" you questioned, taking a small sip of the herbal drink.

he turned to face you, shrugging. "i was just wondering if you ever play this piano. i visited you multiple times, and it always stands…" he paused, as if weighting the words, "abandoned."

that much was true. you rarely concerned yourself with your hobby — after the passing of your mother, nothing seemed to draw your interest anymore. she was the one who taught you how to play, and now she was gone. no longer were the duets, or mirthful tunes resonating early in the morning.

she was much more talented and skilled than you could ever be, winning award after award. still, you cherished your shared passion for music — you learnt a lot, embedding the notes deep inside your mind. and she was proud. even if you failed, your mother would always cheer you on, patiently explaining what you could fix. life was good, back then.

but it was no more.

"i don’t play." you replied, voice a bit sterner than you’d like it to be.

Phainon didn’t seem anyhow deterred by your tone, sending you an encouraging smile. "really? that’s a pity. i’d love to hear you."

it wasn’t hard to deduce what he was insinuating. even though you swore to never touch that instrument again, your resolve chipped off at his words. "well… i suppose i could try for you."

your friend’s expression melted into a subtle triumph. "great!" he clasped his hands together, shifting on the chair to watch as you got up from your place, seating yourself by the piano.

you ran your palm over the dust and withered petals, shoving everything on the ground. you’ll swipe it later. then, you took a breath, attempting to recall anything familiar — it would seem you got rusty, because as you flipped through the music sheets, only one melody came to mind. why’re you so worried, anyway? you’re not here to impress Phainon (even if you’d like to, terribly).

with that, you positioned your fingertips on the tiles, shoulders tense from how his insistent gaze kept boring into your back. you winced upon the first sound, trying to remember how to play, and how to push back the memories haunting your sorrow-worn brain.

after a while of uncertainty, you finally fell into the right rhythm, smiling dimly at the forlorn tune. it was slow, and calm. all the world surrounding you seemed to cease in its existence, and now it was only you, and the piano. no Phainon, no birds flying outside of the window, no overcast skies, no memories of your late mother.

with each press on the tile, you felt as if you were discovering pieces of yourself anew, like a sacred ritual — playing made you happy. it truly did. how were you able of forgetting about such a simple fact?

as you regained the confidence, you worked your joints with more fervor. everything was going well, until two palms fell onto your shoulders, startling you.

a strained, prolonged sound filled the air as you accidentally hit the tiles, messing up the melody. your head quickly whipped towards Phainon, who was now looking at you with a surprised expression painted on his face. when did he even come up here? you hardly heard any footfall.

"i’m so sorry, did i scare you?” he chuckled, obviously without any remorse.

you sighed, fingers reaching over to touch his hands. "a little."

a smirk stretched his lips upwards as he leaned a bit closer, twins of blue flickering between your form and the instrument. "i didn’t mean to." he responded coyly, no matter if you didn’t sense any guilt coming from him. well, it’s not like you’d hold a grudge for giving you a brief spook. "i just wanted to look from up close. you played so beautifully."

you felt his joints interlock around yours, and now you were slightly hot, something summery itching at your cheeks. Phainon was way too near, and the worst part is — you wished to render the distance completely.

he appeared so pretty from up close. you could discern the faint dimples in his cheeks as he smiled at you tenderly, and how light coming from the window illuminated his radiant irises. if you were able to, you’d immediately snap a picture with your own eyes, because there was no way any sort of lens could ever truly mirror his prepossessing features.

"i can teach you." you blurted out on impulse, wanting to sink into the chair from embarrassment at your silly proposal.

you expected Phainon to laugh — except he didn’t. his face pulled even closer, effectively knocking the air out from your lungs. assuming your heart had legs of it own, it surely would bolt straight out of your throat.

"i’d like that." he murmured.

your breath hitched, and then his lips brushed against yours. you barely stopped yourself from digging your nails into his hands. upon some sprout of boldness, you moved to close your mouths together — but Phainon inched away. that caused your mind to lag, blinking twice at him in confusion — did you even kiss? it was so brief, and chaste in its nature. more like just… pressing your lips against each other, as if to exchange oxygen.

his palms left your shoulders, and he straightened out, stepping back. your thoughts spurred, wondering whether you did something wrong, or if you offended him — however, there was no trace of dismay on the man’s face. he kept smiling sweetly at you, slowly gathering the memoirs into his arms like nothing ever happened.

"well, teach, can i see you tomorrow for a quick lesson?" he asked amusedly, eyebrows arching upwards.

no matter how perplexed you felt, you still forced the corners of your lips to stretch. "s-sure." you stammered out, fingers clenching around the material of your attire.

perhaps you imagined it, after all.

with that, time continued to pass, and for whatever reason you never again touched upon the topic of that barely-kiss. you remember being frustrated then, for pretty obvious reasons. still, Phainon didn’t seem to be in need of talking about that, so you kept silent.

now, from the perspective of time, it might have actually saved you from a fate much worse than what you had presented before you at this moment. your chance to escape Okhema remains unshaken, but what if you pushed Phainon earlier on? surely, the man’s fangs would clench around your neck, refusing to let you go.

he continued to visit you after that, and you taught him how to play. it was no revelation when he grasped the concept rather quickly — he seemed to be some kind of an omnibus, catching on everything naturally.

those shared moments were so precious to you, back then. when Phainon became confident in his somewhat stable skills, you both would sit by the piano, playing a duet. your sides touched as you slowly pressed on the tiles, sometimes even humming along to the tune. whenever one of you messed up, you’d laugh, bickering quietly.

you were enjoying yourself — more than you probably should. all the red flags and alarming behaviors slipped past your notice, and you genuinely thought you regained a long-lost part of yourself.

the dust was now gone from your home, wilted plants and trash thrown away. the piano shone like it used to, and the sun seemed to peek out from behind the clouds more often. your fridge was never empty, because Phainon always brought you some fresh food, and the bed in which you could lie for hours on end didn’t appear as alluring.

it’s not that you miraculously recovered from the grief and burdens of your doleful mind, however, it was progress. the heart remained heavy still — but the man’s fingers curled under its beating form, lifting it up. it was easier to function with him.

at some point, you thought a life without Phainon would be impossible.

everything was going well, and you no longer were carrying so much sorrow. previously, your brain practically drowned into a state of paranoia — every single person appeared as if they wanted to harm or betray you in some way. you scowled at the passersby, a bitter frown painted across your face. but now it was gone. all the wariness and disdain and chagrin lulled into something softer, more amiable.

alas, you should have kept it with you.

you stirred awake, pressing your eyelids shut at the dim light of early morning uncomfortably irritating your eyes. you don’t know why, but your stomach churned, and you felt unsettled by the thought that something was not right.

your room was way too cold. of course, it was chilly in the mornings, but this? this was beyond normalcy. you finally looked around the space, trying to control your trembling limbs. nothing was amiss. every single thing lied in its destined place, all of the windows closed.

still, the temperature made you wonder. with an uneasy feeling, you slowly dragged yourself off the bed, treading downstairs to check it out as well.

it’s a good thing you didn’t go back to sleep, because the sight there made you gasp out loud. your doors were opened — not widely, just slightly ajar — but they were, and it made your guts clench.

under any other circumstances, you would have blamed it on your forgetfulness, however right now that was simply impossible. you never once forgot to close the door, always making sure at least two times the locks were secure and tightly shut.

when you were little, you and your mother fell victim to a robbery — your whole home got practically destroyed, every single furniture toppled over once the thieves were satisfied with their search for any valuables. ever since then, your mother got paranoid about stuff like that. she instilled utmost awareness in you, and so, you adapted. the habit stuck with you to this day, and you took extra precautions just to make sure everything was locked.

wind flew through the gap, lapping at your bare ankles with its frigid tongue. someone broke into your house — and the worst part is, you don’t know whether that person was still inside.

untamed panic attempted to squeeze your heart, but you steeled your resolve, taking a deep breath. no, you mustn’t fall into a hole of fright. your eyes quickly jumped across the space of your living room, scanning everything up and down — nothing.

you took a step forward, jumping up at the low creak your floor made. you cursed under your breath, placing a shaky palm over your pounding chest. you tentatively dragged your feet over to the middle of the room, trying to gather your disarrayed thoughts. as you somehow managed to calm your nervous system down, you hastily turned back for your teleslate, gripping it in your hand as if your life depended on it.

you glanced around yourself precariously, too afraid of even checking out other rooms — after all, if that intruder were there, what would you do? you couldn’t fight. one hit from behind, and you’d be gone.

as carefully as possible, you started walking down the stairs, already dialing a familiar number. you needed him — he was way more capable than you. you were absolutely sure if that person who broke into your house would see him, they’d pass out.

you stood frozen on the cold floorboards, counting down the signals. one. two. three—

"hello, [name]?" resonated the slightly dazed voice, still half-asleep. you must have woken him up.

"Phainon," you began, trying to maintain your tone stable, "can you come to my place?"

you heard a noise of something on the other side, muffled and static. "you mean… as in right now?"

"yes, right now. i know it’s barely four in the morning, but—"

a loud thud on the window cut in the middle of your sentence, causing you to practically shriek in horror. it was a bird — you saw it so clearly, its small silhouette bumping against the glass — and yet, you bolted out of your house as if you were hunted by a pack of fiends.

you almost tripped over your own legs, bare feet falling onto the cold grass, freshly covered in dew. you heard Phainon’s voice calling from your teleslate, asking if you were alright, so you pressed it back to your ear.

"what in the hell happened, [name]?" he asked, probably for the fifth time now.

you took a shaky breath, running a palm over your face. "nothing, i just— just please, come here. i think…" you stammered, clumsily stumbling over your words in haze of trepidation, "i think someone broke into my house."

"wh—" the man began, immediately abandoning his track of thought, "alright. okay, i’ll be there. where are you now?"

you warily looked around, taking in the dimmed sight of your surroundings — the sky was still somewhat dark, periwinkle shyly peeking through the grayish firmament. "in my garden."

Phainon affirmed he’ll come as soon as possible, and you hung up, anxiously pacing around the patch of grass. you were torn between staying outside, and coming back home — but ultimately decided to remain in place.

you fidgeted with your fingers, eyes flickering to the door you forgot to even close as you sprinted out. you mulled over all the dark scenarios, clenching your hands into fists, imagining what you’d do if that intruder were to suddenly emerge, and attack you. their motives surely were odd — nothing was missing, your furniture unmoved, all the possibly valuable things untouched. it was different from what you had experienced as a young girl. if not for the money, then…

the grim realization struck you, and you breathed meekly, feeling your knees get wobblier. how is it you came out of this completely unscathed? as you continued to drown in morose reveries, you heard the fast footfall, head whipping to see who was coming your way.

Phainon, in all of his glory — ivory locks tousled in ever single possible direction, still donning his sleepwear and combat shoes that totally didn’t match. perhaps under different circumstances, you would laugh at the sight.

"[name]." he called, swiftly rendering the distance between you. his facial expression seemed somewhat distraught, but he didn’t take his sword with him, which was… well, somewhat weird. maybe he simply forgot it.

you stepped towards him, grabbing his palms into yours. "thank gods you’re here…" you muttered, feeling at his joints tensing. "why don’t you have a weapon? what if— what if that intruder is still—"

"everything is going to be just fine, alright?" he responded, interrupting your waterfall of hardly-coherent words. "i’ll go search through your place. you should, uh… perhaps stick to me."

you nodded eagerly, sighing with relief at the security Phainon’s presence brought you. with that, you trailed after the man, glued to his hip like a stray animal begging for a scrap of meat.

both of you carefully checked out every single corner of your house, and the more you looked, the more unsettled you became. the thief was not there, but a few things were missing. first of all — your pens. as you stepped into the study, you briefly noticed the disarray on your desk, soon finding out half of your utensils were gone. then, there was that handkerchief you spent so much time embroidering with intricate floral patterns — also no sight of it.

the disappearances were so inconspicuous, it terrified you way more than the vision of losing your jewelry or money. what person casually decides to break in, only to steal somebody’s pens and a piece of cloth? those things were not valuable whatsoever — the fact that this intruder took them was beyond off.

when you pointed it out, Phainon’s eyebrows narrowed with concern — and then his expression shifted into almost dismissal. he said not to worry, after all none of your actually precious stuff was gone, and that must be a good sign, no?

you were consternated at his suddenly carefree attitude, but didn’t point it out. since your friend told you everything was fine, then who were you to undermine his words? certainly, he knew better than you — even if something deep in your gut told you otherwise.

you pushed back the feelings of unease and ambivalent emotions, soon changing the locks and making sure all of your windows were secure. this accident has shaken you, and now your sleep was restless — but life goes on, and Phainon promised he’d never let any harm come your way, so at least you had an ounce of comfort to cling to.

you don’t know why you were so blind, back then. the signs were there for all of this time — you simply decided to turn a blind eye on them.

perhaps it was because you repressed the grief deep inside, but it still dragged you down. silently, innocently. it resurfaced only when you were alone, staring pointlessly at your own feet or a half-empty cup of water. you began to fear it, and so, you tethered yourself to the source of your consolation.

it has been twenty six months since your mother’s death, and thirteen months since your "friendship" with Phainon first bloomed. a number big enough to show the amount of conflict brewing within your heart — torn between everything your instincts were telling you, and ignoring them.

sometimes you wondered: if you kept your curiosity at bay, would anything ever resurface? would the ugly things finally appear, seated in your lap like an obedient lamb? he was an intelligent man, so perhaps not.

anyway, there’s no use mourning over spilled milk.

Phainon, being one of the Chrysos Heirs, was often sent out on missions of various kind. they never took him too long — he always came back in time, maybe a bit battered, but still in one piece. today, however, seemed to be different.

everything started out smoothly — you knew he was out of town, so you arranged to meet with one of your newly-formed friend. you got ready, actually putting effort in how you looked, and waited patiently for the hour of your little get-together to finally arrive.

when your teleslate vibrated next to your thigh, you believed it was your friend, letting you know to come out now — so once your eyes met with Phainon’s vague message, you blinked in surprise.

he asked you to come to the infirmary, only stating that he wanted to see you. naturally, you texted back — did something happen? — but the silence that followed was maddening. an utterly unreasonable flood of worry surged through your mind, each passing second stirring it into a thunderstorm. without wasting another moment, you grabbed your bag and hurried out.

by the time you arrived, every nerve in your body felt like it was set in flames. stress relentlessly gnawed at your thoughts, and a thousand of dark scenarios bloomed intrusively in your imagination. you barely managed to ask one of the nurses where he was, and she responded with a door numer — it already managed to dissolve in your thoughts. you walked upstairs, heart pounding with a single morose question: was Phainon truly in such a state that he’d ask for you? gods, you hoped he was just being dramatic.

you shoved the door open and exhaled a breath you didn’t know you were holding. there he was — alive, upright, and breathing. he sat on the bed with a slight recline, supported by a multitude of pillows, his gaze fixed on something outside the window. when he heard you come in, he turned, expression almost instantly shifting into a cheerful smile.

"[name], you came." he hummed happily, briefly running his fingers through the fair locks, maybe a bit self-conscious by how messy they were.

Phainon’s left cheek was covered by a piece of gauze, and you managed to spot a few bandages sticking from under his loose robes — but fortunately, nothing else caught your attention. he was all well, and now you were wondering why did he sent you such an ominous message in the first place. maybe he simply wanted to mess with you.

you nodded, rendering the space between you two. "of course i did." you spoke meekly, deciding to seat yourself on the small chair, standing just right next to the bed. "anyway, are you… okay?"

the blue irises studied you for good, prolonged three seconds before he thought answer. "could have been worse. accidents happen from time to time, even to me." he chuckled, a cough ripping from his chest abruptly.

you winced, fiddling with your fingers. you did not know what to do. "why don’t you lie down?" you asked, sending him a wry smile. comforting others was never your strongest forte, and now it was evidently showing.

he obediently took up on your offer, the corners of his lips remaining lifted. "[name], don’t frown so much. it’s not like i’m dying, or something."

you laughed at that comment, and he laughed along. whenever you as much as voiced any sound of joy, he always followed suit — at first it wasn’t very noticeable to you, but after some time, you recognized it as a habit of sorts. an unconditioned reflex.

"sorry. i didn’t mean to, i just…" you trailed off, eyes falling to your lap.

a short beat of silence passed between you before Phainon spoke again. "you look especially pretty today. any occasion?" he mused, a teasing lilt to his voice.

at that, you almost choked on your own spit. your relationship with the man was… well, somewhat questionable — but whenever he complimented you in such a straightforward way, you always felt as if somebody smacked you across the face with an electric wire.

you cleared your throat, trying to fight off the blush steadily creeping onto your cheeks. "maybe? i’m not sure. i was supposed to meet up with my friend today." you explained.

Phainon’s smile widened, and you didn’t fail to spot how the corner of his lips twitched. "sounds great."

you nodded, unsure of what to reply with. sometimes he responded with such vague sentences, it was hard to even come up with an answer. still, you forced your mind to muster up anything to keep the conversation going.

you talked for quite a while now, and you definitely lost the track of time — the sky darkened slightly, and you continued to ignore the buzzing of your teleslate. whenever you reached into your bag, your friend always began asking you some barely sensible questions, demanding your attention to stay focused solely on him.

you indulged him, naturally, but when you heard the sound of a ringtone, you could no longer pretend. what you were doing was hardly polite — looking at the hour, you were already fifteen minutes late to your meeting. even if Phainon was battered, he surely would understand, right? after all, he is the prime example of kindness, constantly gracing everyone with that cordial smile of his.

with a sigh, you grasped the device, ready to pick up. "sorry, i really have to—"

before your fingertip managed to even do as much as graze the teleslate’s screen, a hand suddenly locked around your wrist. you let out a mixture of surprise and confusion from your throat, vision returning to Phainon. he was smiling — alas, it didn’t encompass his eyes anymore. the man’s grip wasn’t hard, but it caused you to accidentally drop your teleslate, the thing slipping from your palm and hitting the ground with a clatter. it was still ringing a merry tune, so notorious and loud.

you swallowed, consternation painting itself across your face. "hey, what are—"

a vivid picture of sudden change grew in front of you, dull irises snapping back into their lively forms — he hastily let go of your limb, retracting his hand. did Phainon suffer some head trauma while he was away on a mission? he never once acted so erratically before, so you wouldn’t be surprised to find out his brain was in a concussed state.

"sorry. is your teleslate alright?" he spoke calmly, easing back into the stack of pillows.

you bend down to pick it up, briefly inspecting it. "yes, it is." you nodded, eyes avoiding him. when you glanced at the screen, you saw at least ten delivered messages, waiting for you to read. you felt guilty.

"anyway," he started, that lighthearted lace returning to his tone, "who were you supposed to meet up with?"

you sighed at the innocent question, turning the device off. "Phaoriseus. you remember him, don’t you?"

to be completely honest, you expected another burst of bitterness from your friend (and you wouldn’t blame him for it) — so it was a surprise when Phainon gave a hum of understanding, still smiling at you without a single waver. "i do remember him."

(you didn’t spot how terribly hard his fingers curled around the covers, nor the tight clench of his jaws).

"so, uhh, i guess i should…" you began, wondering why were you feeling so unsure, "i should go now. he’ll get mad if i just ditch him like that."

Phainon’s expression remained frozen for a good second — but soon the blank page of his face twisted into a pitiful frown, eyebrows knitting together. "really? but you just got there!" he protested, and you thought he looked like a mistreated dog. injured face, stitches, locks tousled messily — and those big eyes, practically begging.

he was not right. you didn’t just get there. it has been two hours since you stepped into infirmary, and perhaps it would be better to go now — but Phainon had this irresistible ability of tugging on your poor heartstrings. you felt torn, and when your teleslate began ringing again, you knew it was the high time you finally decide.

and the worst part is — it came so easily to you. just like that. without much hesitancy, you turned on the silent mode, tossing the thing back into your bag.

sure, you wanted to maintain friendships, and whatnot — but the man lying now in front of you was simply more important. you chuckled dryly under your breath, wondering how could you ever possibly leave his side — and when he heard the sound coming from your mouth, he laughed along. sweetly, like pure saccharine or sugarcoated apples.

"so you’ll stay, i presume?" he inquired, fingertips reaching over to yours. you squeezed his hand immediately, smiling at the warmth of his joints.

"of course i’ll stay." you affirmed, all remnants of internal conflict seeping away. it was good this way. you didn’t need much in life — as long as you had Phainon, everything would be just fine.

you could mock your past self for remaining so oblivious, but it would lack in any sense anyway. it’s not as if berating yourself for putting trust in somebody else could fix the old mistakes — none can undo the past.

now that you think about it, Phainon always was… somewhat quirky. beloved by everyone, cherished and praised highly in the general community of Okhema, he stayed as a picture-perfect golden boy. no one would ever suspect there was something more to him — not even you, at least back then.

however, sometimes his usually radiant eyes lost their glow, boring pointedly into the distance with dullness you couldn’t put your finger on, or discern where it was coming from. it was eerie in a way, seeing how the very life seemed to practically disappear from him — but you never thought to judge him. you understood better than anyone else that a human’s existence is filled with various hardships and grief. maybe Phainon experienced something akin to your loss, and simply attempted to smother the sorrow instead of letting it dissolve naturally.

then, there were his mood swings. they weren’t overly prominent, but it was quite apparent the emotions within him were in a constant state of swirl. for example, how quickly and rapidly he could burst into laughter at something mildly funny you said — you always wondered whether he seriously found your dry jokes so amusing.

not to mention, you perceived Phainon as someone relentlessly kind, but he just had that odd habit of glaring at whoever was talking to you. no matter if you were acquainted with them, or not — he’d stand a little behind you, eyebrows narrowing together lowly. when you caught him scowling like so, his look always shifted into a docile smile, innocently asking what was wrong — as if he never did anything in the first place. you let that slide, too.

perhaps this was not a very obvious sign, but from time to time, you noticed the slip-ups in his masterfully crafted masks. well, maybe not masterfully, because Phainon wasn’t all that great at controlling his facial expressions — but the fact he could hold them up with such a hell in his mind remained impressive. you stated something against his wishes — his eyebrow twitched. you did specifically what he told you not to do — his lower eyelid quivered, as if he was seconds away from losing it.

and finally, the vague responses Phainon offered you. previously, you had no clue why he got so mopey sometimes, but now you know it stemmed from pure, barely contained jealousy. the short "okay-s" and "fine-s" often sounded as if he practically forced them out. almost like there was something in his throat — obscuring the man’s windpipe, refusing him from mustering up anything more.

earlier on, when you were still so blissfully oblivious, you could live with that. you could swallow down all the doubts and questions, cherishing the company of your beloved friend — or something more. you ignored all the cracks, and wavers, pretending not to see the sharp eyes of a predator lurking from underneath sheep’s clothing.

you were so hung-up on the vision of remaining by Phainon’s side, you ignored the warnings — not only originating from your own intuition, but other’s as well.

the weather seemed a bit unstable today — you agreed to come out on a walk with Phainon, bumping into Mydei along the way, and dragging him with you too — and the sun shone brightly from one part of the sky, while the other remained darkened by the rain clouds. it was a little unsettling, watching as the gloom spread relentlessly fast towards your way.

still, you couldn’t exactly complain. you were having fun with both of the men, giggling under your breath as they bickered over the dumbest things. you already had to work as a mediator, and a judge — when their debates remained unsolved, they instantly turned towards you, demanding you decide which one of them was right.

and as you strolled through the main square, your eyes met with an ice cream stall. the temperature was quite hot, so you offered to buy some — Phainon agreed with you, saying that he can go wait in the line, since it was pretty long. you sent him a grateful nod, hiding with Mydei in the shade meanwhile he had to stand in the scorching sun, already appearing somewhat dazed by the hotness.

you leaned on the cool pillar, sighing with relief. the man next to you followed suit, glancing at you with the corner of his piercingly sharp iris. "[name], i have to ask you about something." he began, perhaps a bit tentatively.

to hear him speak up first was a slight surprise, especially since you weren’t particularly close, nor did Mydei seem to be overly social. still, you didn’t point it out — it’s not like it was a bad thing he attempted to strike up a conversation with you.

"go ahead." you sent him an encouraging smile, quickly reaching to wipe the sweat off of your brow. the high temperature was seriously getting to you — any longer in the sun, and you’d probably faint.

he cleared his throat, letting out a prolonged sigh. "what do you think of Phainon?” he questioned, the tone of his voice more gravely than usual.

confused, you blinked twice, mulling over his words. what’s that supposed to mean? "well, i think he’s a… good person. i enjoy his company.” you replied, wondering if that’s the answer Mydei was looking for.

the man shook his head, eyebrows narrowing together. "is that all? don’t you think he’s been acting off?"

the more he talked, the more perplexed you got. "what?"

Mydei clicked his tongue in irritation, probably barely holding back a scoff at your obliviousness. "[name], i’m sure you are more intelligent than you let on. don’t tell me you can’t see how he looks at you?"

a nervous chuckle escaped your lips as you scratched the nape of your neck. where was he even going with all this? "sorry, are you—" you took a pause, weighting your words, "are you insinuating Phainon has a crush on me?"

this of course wouldn’t be any sort of revelation, considering the things you both have done before, however hearing it from somebody else’s mouth was certainly weird.

he huffed out a humorless chuckle, leaning in a bit closer, as if his sentence was some kind of top-secret. "more than just infatuation. there’s… there’s something uncanny to his gaze." Mydei murmured with a hint of cautiousness in his voice. "i really hate to talk of him in such a way, but i know him longer than you, and—"

your brain almost — almost connected all the circumstances and dots you were pushing back for a long time already, living in denial — but then a familiar voice caused you both to jump back, straightening out.

"i’m back!" you turned to look at Phainon who held up three cones, a triumphant grin stretching his lips upwards. "now, what were the two of you talking about, hm?" he laughed inconspicuously, handing out the ice cream.

Mydei sent you a glare so stern, you’d never dream of admitting the truth. "just… discussing our favorite chimeras." you forced out, making up some hardly-authentic excuse on the spot. you saw the blonde man cringe at your dumb lie.

Phainon’s eyebrows lifted, and he nodded slowly, as if silently messaging he didn’t believe a single word. "is that so? well, Mydei was frowning so much i thought you were conversing about the very death." he joked lightheartedly, licking at the already dripping ice cream.

"it doesn’t matter, Deliverer. [name]’s telling the truth." he retorted, and you winced when he took a formidable bite out of the cold food.

you observed them exchange heated looks, but neither said anything further. with that, you took a small step back, hunching your shoulders inwards as you slowly licked on the ice cream — for whatever reason, you lost your appetite.

funnily enough, no matter how ominous Mydei’s words were, you soon forgot them. an awful decision on your side, but hey — at least you’re aware now that he remained completely truthful, then. you could be almost grateful at his high perception, though it didn’t help much at that time.

you were never close with the crown prince of Kremnos — he always seemed a bit distant, and detached from the rest. the only reason you had any contact with him was because of Phainon. perhaps that’s the reason why his warning dissipated so quickly from your mind — assuming you were better friends, you’d surely take everything he told you under consideration.

as you slowly reached towards the end of your favored piece, fingers falling rhythmically on the tiles, you began to think you should have listened. you should have taken it all to heart, ridding yourself of the blindness, and accepting the truth.

alas, you didn’t do so, and the longer you sit by the piano, playing and mulling over events of the past year, the more evident your demise starts to appear. every single sound resonates like the oh-so familiar footsteps, and singing of the night birds outside reminds you of his voice.

maybe he’s standing right behind you, and you just don’t know it yet. a silly, paranoid vision that was — you made sure to lock the doors, barricading them with additional furniture. you’d certainly hear it, if he were to force his way inside — but still, you feared to turn your head.

after all, when it came to Phainon, your cognitive functions always seemed a bit faulty.

the storm season began, and you shining with utter intelligence, forgot to take your umbrella. again. you swear, at this point you’ll have to write it on your forehead in big, bold letters — remember about the rain!, or something of the sort.

fortunately or unfortunately, you were close to Phainon’s place, so you quickly ran to his door, almost slipping on the mud. with a huff of exasperation, you knocked energetically, hoping he was home. your limbs were trembling from the cold, and clothes stuck uncomfortably to your frame, encompassing you in their heavy wetness. you barely stopped the chattering of your teeth.

after a few seconds, the man finally opened the door, obviously taken aback to see you. "oh, [name]!" he called out in surprise, immediately ushering you inside with a kind smile.

once he shut the entrance, you sighed in relief, drinking in the tranquil silence. loud rainfall was no more, muffed out by the walls surrounding you — and the air definitely got warmer, a soothing balm to your shaky joints. then, you turned to look at Phainon.

"i got caught up in the rain." you stated the obvious, a humorous snicker slipping past your lips as you quickly shook off the water-filled shoes.

your friend’s expression turned fond, and he cocked one eyebrow up at you. "really? i never would have noticed." he chuckled, reaching for your soaked hair — he raked his fingers through the strands, and you swatted his teasing touch away.

"anyway, i’m cold and i want something to drink." you stated, hurriedly dragging your feet towards the living room. Phainon followed in your tracks, just a few steps behind.

you sat on the leather couch, barely containing the shaky breath threatening to escape you. he stood in front of you, clasping his hands. "alright, how about this— self-service today, and while you’re preparing yourself tea, i’ll run you a bath." he offered, before quickly adding: "oh, and maybe i’ll find some fitting garments for you…"

the vision of a hot bath and dry clothes was better than ever — you nodded earnestly, jumping up from the couch like a wind-up toy. "sounds good. thank you, Phainon." you smiled, grateful for such a considerate companion. whatever ethereal being was looking after you, they certainly made sure to bless you with an angel.

he reciprocated the gesture, saying he’ll try to be as quick as possible, soon emerging upstairs. you already took a step forward the kitchen — but then something caught your eye.

door, slightly ajar, just in the corner of the room — of course, you were aware of their existence, but didn’t know where they actually led to. they always remained tightly shut, and Phainon never seemed to use them (at least in your presence).

upon some tinge of uncontainable curiosity, you walked towards the source of your interest. it was extremely rude to pry and search through one’s home while they remained unaware — but your friend wouldn’t get mad even if he found out, right? sure, maybe he’d scold you, but it would end at that.

you opened the door a bit wider, studying the space — it was rather claustrophobic, to be honest. it looked like a larder, except it lacked in any sort of food. a rather obscure wall unit stretched on your left, devoid of anything useful in particular — empty jars, some scrolls, everything covered in a thick layer of dust and cobwebs. the only thing that didn’t seem abandoned was a carton box, situated atop a feeble chair.

you stepped forwards, prying its flaps open with the slightest of guilt — alas, the freshly ignited marvel won, and you couldn’t hold yourself back. at first it didn’t seem to harbor anything special, just a few books along with an innocent-looking wooden casket. you almost laughed, a bit disappointed to find nothing interesting — but then you saw it.

those were your books, the same ones you lent to him some time ago, and pretty much forgot about.

why would Phainon store them inside some dusty cellar instead of just giving them back to you? it was perplexing. you slowly reached for them, lifting the books up — everything seemed fine, and they lacked in any damage. you put them away, focus relocating towards the unfamiliar object lying at the bottom — a… diary?

you gently grasped it, your instincts screaming at you to abandon your task and go make yourself that damned tea. unfortunately, you decided to stay curious.

as you slowly opened it, you immediately got greeted with the familiar handwriting — it was loopy, and nice to the eye. you always envied Phainon because of it.

with a shaky exhale of thrill, you began to scan through the contents.

i finally spoke to [name] today. after all my hesitation, i can’t believe how gentle and kind she turned out to be. what was i so afraid of? i waited for the perfect moment, wanting to make a good impression — and i think it was worth it.

i bought her peaches, though i’m not quite sure why she was so hellbent on bargaining for them. she’s never lacked in money, at least from what i’ve managed to deduce. still, i bought them, and she surprised me by offering one back. such a small thing, and yet it meant so much. i nearly cheered out loud with joy.

it feels like a good beginning. earning her trust will take time, i know — but perhaps i can dare to believe i’ve already taken the first step. i dearly hope i’m not wrong.

your eyebrows narrowed together, and the air gone heavy in your lungs. what? just… just what the hell was he even writing about? yes, the piece of text seemed innocent enough, but it wasn’t hard to discern Phainon thought of speaking to you long before you personally met him. maybe you were simply exaggerating, and the man’s intentions remained pure — but still, you hurriedly shuffled through the pages, stopping on another one.

today was thankfully free from any obligations, leaving me with much time to devote to what truly matters: learning more about [name]. it’s not difficult to trace someone’s steps, honestly. i’ve always found it quite easy — some may say it’s somewhat unethical, but i never thought of it that way. ah, i digress, don’t i?

she doesn’t work — not surprising, really, considering her late mother’s fortune. if memory serves me right, that woman was once a pianist of some renown. still, i do wish [name] ventured out more often — her long absences complicate things unnecessarily. but i endure.

when she does take a walk, she moves as if without a particular purpose — never talking to anyone, never daring to look up from her feet. it fascinates me. what thoughts fill her head during those quiet strolls?

she has some sort of a fondness for that antique bookstore, near the main square. i paid a visit myself, naturally. the clerk, eager to please a Heir, shared the details of her last purchase — a memoir. i’ve never cared much for them, but if my [name] finds value in such lectures, then i shall too. it’s only logical, after all.

as always, i was careful today. our paths crossed — seemingly by chance, of course. i’ve gone to great lengths to ensure that every encounter feels like a mere coincidence. she likely thinks of them as such. there’s a certain naivete in her logic and understanding, a quality i find utterly disarming. it will certainly make things easier for me to ████ ██.

all in all, today was successful. i hope the following days will remain equally bountiful.

your hands shook now, jaw hanging slack as you barely stopped yourself from dropping the diary and bolting out of that man’s house. was this supposed to be a joke? if so, then it surely wasn’t funny.

he was a lunatic. Phainon — the one you considered your most beloved and only friend — was insane. he followed after you, tracking you down, as if you weren’t a real person with their own emotions, but a mere animal to hunt, shoot down, and put on display.

you were terrified. no, that was an understatement. you were terror-stricken. everything you took for granted suddenly crumbled over your head, rendering you frozen — but, perhaps, this really was only a joke? some… some kind of a fictional story Phainon decided to make up out of morbid boredom?

with that, you turned another few pages forward, hoping to see a revelation which could ease your anxiety, and finally clear up the misunderstanding. you had to squint your eyes a little, observing as the elegant handwriting suddenly took a sharper turn, erratic and barely able of discerning.

my hands tremble as i write this, the ink already smudging in places. it’s strange — i’ve faced peril more times than i can count — and yet nothing has shaken me quite like what happened today.

i met [name] at the bookstore again. i nearly commited a gravely mistake — i made a remark about her taste in memoirs, something she’s never confessed to me directly. for a moment, i thought i completely messed up everything i worked so hard for. i could see the faintest flicker of suspicion in her eyes, but she said nothing. thank gods for that. i had no excuse prepared, so i suppose i would’ve been doomed.

she invited me to her home to lend me some memoirs. as if the books mattered. of course i accepted — not out of my interest for the literature, but because the offer was simply too enticing to turn down. time with her, and [name]’s own beloved volumes in my hands. a chance like that cannot be missed out on.

i tried not to show it, but my eyes were drawn to her piano (i thought it looked quite proud and imposing). it stood abandoned in the corner, as if she completely forgot about it. i asked if she could play for me. [name] hesitated, but ultimately agreed.

what followed was something beyond music. her fingers moved with such grace, her posture so painfully poised. the room dissipated away. i watched, completely mesmerized. why did she not follow in her late mother’s footsteps? well, perhaps it’s better this way. the world doesn’t deserve her. not like i do.

as she played, i stepped towards her, putting my hands on her shoulders. she jolted up, stopping rapidly — startled, maybe. i should have felt guilty, but i didn’t. [name]’s surprise, her breath catching in her throat — it was alluring, in a way.

and then, i kissed her. not fully — just the brief touch of lips. but it happened. she didn’t pull away. if anything, i thought i felt her coveting for more. i backed out, though. if i haven’t, then i ████ ███████ ██.

[name] is driving me to the edge of reason. she doesn’t even know it, not truly. i am already hers. completely, helplessly hers. how could i not be? when i met her, i realized she was unavoidably special. ████ ██ i am sick with desire. she makes me ████ █████████.

so it wasn’t a jest, then.

you turned to another page.

what i did tonight would, by most standards, be considered shameful — depraved of any morality, even. but i feel no remorse.

ever since i first tasted the warmth of [name]’s kindness, i have found it impossible to resist my longing. could you believe it? she offered to teach me the piano. imagine that — her delicate hands guiding mine, her voice so close i could feel it brush against my cheek. we’ve started to play duets together. to be fair, it’s hard for me to contain myself with her sitting so close, side pressed into mine.

tonight, the ache became unbearable.

i broke into her house while she was asleep, and i observed her for quite some time. i wanted to take something from her — to soothe the torturous ache in my chest when she’s not near. i cut a lock of her hair. it smelled faintly of lavender and something sweeter i couldn’t name. i held it to my lips. it felt like worship.

i searched her study next — not to violate, or anything of the sort. i simply needed more. i settled on a few of her pens and a handkerchief, enthralled by the intricate embroidery. just little things, nothing valuable.

you couldn’t read it anymore. if there was a feeling comparable to being continuously stabbed into the heart, you certainly felt it now. shocked, you dropped the diary to the floor, practically throwing yourself at the innocent-looking box — your shaking hands reached for the wooden casket, prying it open without much finesse.

knowing what you would see at the bottom was more awful than remaining oblivious, and it caused your stomach to churn. exactly as it was written — a piece of your hair, tightly embedded with a ribbon of sorts. then, the pens you lost, along with the handkerchief.

you slowly put it away, careful not to make any sounds. Phainon was taking quite a long time preparing you this bath, or whatever the hell was he doing. running would be the wisest option — but something pushed you to bend down for the diary, and read another entry. you had to get some closure.

as you flipped towards the end of the filled pages, you noticed how messy it was — smudged ink, splatters of… something? on the paper, scratches so hard they ripped through. still, you forced yourself to decipher the following text.

i caved.

the restraint i fought to maintain finally tore. i’ve done something irredeemable, and yet i ████ █. perhaps that makes me ██. but if loving [name] this fiercely is madness, then let me descend into it without apology.

it began with my injury. she came to the infirmary, just as i hoped. the sight of her standing by my bed — so gentle, so beautiful — was almost too much to bear. i asked where she was headed, because obviously, she dolled herself up. i believed she’d say nowhere.

but no. she mentioned a meeting. a friend.

a friend.

████ █████████ ██ █████.

something cracked inside me then. who gave her permission to give her time — my time — to someone else? ████ ███ who was that man, to think he could occupy the thoughts and laughter that should belong to me alone? ████ █████████ ██ █████

i found him. of course i did. people like him are easy to track — even easier to silence.

i don’t remember much — the moment is a blur, as if my mind repressed it from the sheer disgust for that intruder. only the sound remains: a dull, heavy thud as his body hit the ground. after that, there was stillness.

he’s gone now. that’s all that matters. [name] is safe — untouched, unspoiled by others. ████ █████████ ██. she is mine.

i love her with a force i can’t contain. it consumes me. it burns like fire. but if she ever learned the truth — if she knew what i’ve done — i know she would hate me. she would curse my name. that, i cannot allow.

she must never see that side of me. no one must.

i’ll keep my secret buried deeper than that man i laid few meters underneath the ground. ████ █████████ ██ ████. and i will keep smiling when i see her. i will kiss her hands. [name] doesn’t need to know what i’ve done — only that i love her. more than anyone else ever could.

there was more — much more text to go through — an unhinged rant about whatever that maniac’s mind managed to come up with. unfortunately, you didn’t have the strength to read it. your stomach churned mercilessly, bile threatening to gather in your mouth. then, you heard the footsteps.

if not for that terrifying sound, you’d probably curl up on the floor and start wailing. you didn’t even have the time to process anything as you rapidly began to put everything back into the box, desperately attempting to recreate how the objects were laid out.

you began to count the steps. one, two, three, four, five.

he wasn’t in a hurry. you quickly put the casket back, placing the diary along with your books above it, wondering if you did that right — your vision obscured by tears, you fought tooth and nail to hold the waterworks back. if that man saw you crying, then he’d surely guess what you just found out.

six, seven, eight, nine, ten.

you shut the flaps of the box, stepping away to give that bedlam a last glance. you then turned, trepidation squeezing at your hammering heart.

eleven, twelve, thirteen.

as you opened the door, ready to walk out casually as if nothing ever happened, your face bumped straight into Phainon’s chest, causing you to stumble backwards. oh no. no, no, no—!

your eyes rose towards him, and you forced your expression to remain as neutral as possible. no matter for your heavy breaths, or the wet tears threatening to spill down your cheeks. at first, he looked equally surprised as you felt — but then, he smiled. a grin, more teeth than cheer, hardly reaching his blue irises.

"what are you doing here, [name]?" he asked calmly, the completely stoic tone of his voice causing your limbs to freeze.

Phainon’s eyes bore into your form as if he was a starving animal — a panting wolf, barely holding itself back from sinking its marred fangs into the hare’s nape.

you swallowed thickly. "nothing. i-i mean…" you stumbled over your own words, sweat dripping profusely down your temples. "i was just curious about this room, so i—"

"don’t worry, i’m not mad at you." he spoke, taking a step forward. "i’ve already prepared the bath, so why don’t you go and take it?"

against all your reason, you nodded obediently, trying your hardest to force your legs to move forwards. the man’s gaze refused to leave you as you dragged your feet over. then, a brief realization passed through your exhausted brain:

he’s not a poor dog, like i thought — he’s a full-fledged pack of rabid hounds, stuffed into a singular being.

you could only pray your sprint was fast enough.

#phainon x reader #written due to a request!#that counting crows nursery rhyme is a depiction of reader’s fate if she didn’t decide to flee #but hey we have an open ending #so she might have as well stayed #up to everyone’s own interpretation!!#anyway writing this was defo a challenge #also i imagine that song reader played for phainon was #satie’s gymnopedie no.1 #and uhhh yeah phainon’s so creepy in this bruh i even scared myself a little when writing this😭#hsr x reader #hsr #honkai star rail #phainon #phainon x y/n #phainon x you #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere phainon

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babeforjjmaybanks · 7 months ago

Text

orange soda crush ༊*·˚

pairing: popular!rafe x shy!femreader ౨ৎ

summary: rafe's grades were slipping, to say the least. your school assigns you as his tutor, hoping maybe you could save him. one afternoon, rafe shows up to your house with in need of some help.

warning(s): dry humping, fingering, finger licking, mentions of biting (hickeys), thigh riding, marijuana use, swearing, size kink if you squint, mentions of scratching, slight overstim, rafe becomes whipped so possessiveness, innocence corruption(?), praise, slight perv!rafe, titobsessed!rafe, dni if you don't like!!!

mentions of: rafey, rafe is called a "sex symbol", y/n, sweetheart, good girl, baby, sweet girl, dumbass, needy girl, slut, doll, cute, pretty ౨ৎ

a/n: if not known already, this is basically a obx highschool au, pogues and looks still exist but it's more like jocks and nerds. both reader and rafe are seniors, not minors! I don't have much experience with writing fics but here's my current fixation, enjoy & leave notes! <3

word count: 4168

divider by: @issysh3ll

y/n had been sitting quietly in her history class, the bell signaling the end of the period ringing in the distance. she was gathering her books when the overhead speaker crackled to life, interrupting the usual noise of students packing up.

"pardon this interruption, y/n l/n, please report to principal phelp’s office immediately."

the announcement hung in the air, drawing the attention of a few nearby students. she froze, a slight chill running through her. she wasn’t the type to get into trouble—her grades were impeccable, she kept to herself, and she was always on time. so why was she being called to the principal’s office? her mind raced through all the possible reasons, none of which seemed likely. had she missed an assignment? was there a mistake with her records? or was it the skirt she decided to wear today that definitely didn’t meet the dress code?

her heart pounded as she made her way down the hall, the sound of her footsteps echoing in the quiet corridor. as she approached the principal’s office, she noticed the usual hustle and bustle of students outside. some of them exchanged glances, their curious eyes following her every step, looking her up and down with whispers and sly looks. when she reached the door, she hesitated for a moment before knocking lightly.

"come in," came the deep voice of principal phelps.

she opened the door to find him sitting behind his desk, a manila folder in front of him. the room was neat, almost too perfect, the smell of old books and polished wood filling the air. but what really caught her off guard was the figure sitting across from him.

rafe cameron, the school's golden boy.

her stomach dropped. rafe was sitting with his arms crossed, his signature smirk plastered across his face as he looked over at her. His messy curtain and athletic jacket seemed almost out of place in the sterile office, like he didn’t belong in this space. she had always known of him, of course. he was the star quarterback, the guy everyone knew by name, the one who seemed to glide effortlessly through life. and now, here he was, looking at her as if he had all the time in the world, while she, on the other hand, was caught off guard and confused.

"there she is, come on in we were just talking about you." principal phelps said with a warm smile, though she could detect a hint of urgency in his tone. "take a seat."

she sat down hesitantly, trying to avoid looking directly at rafe. the tension in the air was palpable, and she was acutely aware of how out of place she felt in this situation.

"y/n," principal phelps began, folding his hands in front of him, his expression turning serious, "I’ve called you here because I need a favor. you know rafe, right?"

you glanced at rafe again, his eyes diverted to something else in the room as if he wasn’t staring at you. he seemed unfazed by the situation, though there was a subtle flicker of something in his eyes. "um, yeah," you said quietly, not sure where this conversation was going.

principal phelps nodded. "well, rafe here has been struggling in a few subjects. he’s having difficulty with math, english, and history.” principal phelps cleared his throat trying to ignore the fact that he named almost every class. “and unfortunately, his grades are slipping dangerously low. If he doesn’t get his grades up, he could lose his eligibility to play on the football team, which would jeopardize his scholarship opportunities." he paused, giving her a moment to process the gravity of the situation.

she blinked, her mind racing. rafe? struggling? the same rafe who could probably get away with doing the bare minimum and still pass every class? the same rafe with the fancy sport cars and the fancy mansion he threw ragers in? (allegedly, she’s never been to one.) the same rafe who had never so much as acknowledged her existence in all the years they’d been in school?

"I’m asking you," principal phelps continued, leaning forward slightly, "to tutor rafe for the next few weeks. he needs to pass these subjects to stay on track. and I know you’re one of our top students, y/n. you’re smart, diligent, and patient—exactly what rafe needs right now."

rafe shifted in his chair, his smirk faltering for just a moment. "yeah, sweetheart," he added with a lazy grin, "I could use your help. think you can handle it?" he glanced down at her thighs, and then back up at her. she felt her face flush at the sudden name.

her mind was spinning. she had never thought of rafe as anything more than the popular guy—someone she’d seen in the hallways but never really interacted with. actually, that was a lie, the thinking part. she actually would think about rafe alot when she was bored, specifically his toned body and the way he bit his lip when he was thinking. she had no idea how to deal with someone like him.

"I—I don’t know," she stammered, feeling her face flush. "I’m not sure I’m the right person for this."

principal phelps’s voice softened, but there was still a sense of urgency in his words. "I’m sure you are. rafe, here, is a good kid at heart, but he’s under a lot of pressure. If you help him out, it could mean a lot to him—and to his future."

rafe’s eyes met hers again, and for a split second, she thought she saw something other than cockiness—a hint of desperation, maybe even embarrassment. but it was gone before she could fully understand it.

she took a deep breath. she had never been one to shy away from responsibility, even if the situation seemed overwhelming. she didn’t want to be the one to deny him help, especially when it could affect his future.

"okay," she finally said, her voice steady but unsure. "I’ll help."

principal phelps smiled, relief flooding his face. "thank you, y/n. I know this is a lot to ask, but I think you’re exactly what rafe needs."

as she stood up to leave, she felt the weight of the task ahead of her settle in. she glanced one more time at rafe, who was still sitting there, his posture slightly more relaxed now. He didn’t say anything, but she could feel the tension between them already starting to form, a mix of uncertainty and something unspoken.

"see you tomorrow, then," she said, her words more for herself than for him, before leaving the office to prepare for what was about to be an unexpected and challenging journey.

over the past two weeks, y/n and rafe had settled into a rhythm, though it was far from smooth at first. their tutoring sessions started awkwardly—rafe's usual cocky demeanor clashed with y/n’s quiet, no-nonsense attitude. he would slouch in his chair, often cracking jokes or making sarcastic comments, testing her patience. but y/n, determined to get him through the material, refused to let him off the hook. slowly, she found ways to get through to him, breaking down complicated equations and historical events into relatable, bite-sized pieces. rafe, surprisingly, started to respond. he still struggled, but he began showing up earlier for their sessions, staying later, and even asking questions without the usual bravado.

as the days passed, the tutoring sessions shifted from strictly academic to more personal. one evening, as they were going over a particularly difficult history assignment, rafe let slip that his father had been pushing him to be the perfect athlete, to always be "the best." "It’s not just about football," rafe admitted, his tone more vulnerable than she had ever heard. "I just don’t want to disappoint him, you know?" y/n was taken aback. she had always seen rafe as the confident jock, but here was a side of him she hadn’t expected—a young man weighed down by more than just his grades. she listened quietly, offering a rare, understanding smile that made rafe pause for a moment. after that, their sessions felt different. the walls that had once separated them began to crumble.

In the weeks that followed, their conversations drifted beyond just homework. rafe started sharing bits of his life with you—how he used to love painting when he was younger, how he struggled with anxiety before big games, and how he was terrified of failing his senior year. you, in turn, opened up as well, telling rafe about your dream of becoming a lawyer and how you often felt like an outsider at school. the two of you discovered common ground in your shared feelings of pressure, and the lines between tutor and student began to blur. with each passing session, you became more comfortable with one another, a connection forming that neither had anticipated—one built on mutual respect, trust, and the quiet bond of shared struggle.

it was a quiet evening when y/n heard the unexpected knock on her door. she glanced at the clock—there was no study session scheduled for that night, so she wasn’t expecting anyone. her parents were out, and she had been planning on catching up on some reading. she opened the door, a little confused, only to find rafe standing on her porch, looking uncharacteristically disheveled. his usual confident posture was gone, replaced with an uneasy slouch. his eyes were almost bloodshot, and he wore an unfamiliar look on his face—vulnerable, even fragile.

"rafe?" y/n asked, surprised. "what are you doing here?"

he ran a hand through his messy hair and let out a small, strained laugh. "I—I know this is weird. but I, uh... I had a fight with my dad. a big one. he’s pissed about my grades and shit again, and he’s been on my case all week." rafe hesitated, biting his lip as if trying to hold back a wave of frustration. "I... I got high. like really fucking high I know I shouldn’t have, but I just couldn’t handle it. and I needed to get out of there." he looked down at his shoes, his words a little rushed. "I just—" he sighed, clearly frustrated with himself. "I don’t know, I thought maybe you’d—just let me hang out for a bit. I didn’t know where else to go. I didn't wanna seem like a pussy to all of my dumbass friends."

y/n stood frozen for a moment, processing his words. she had never seen him like this. the rafe she knew was always in control, always surrounded by his friends, the football team, and the unshakable air of confidence. this version of him—lost, raw, and uncertain—was a stark contrast. her heart softened at the sight of him, and despite the oddness of the situation, she stepped aside and motioned for him to come in.

"come in," she said, her voice gentle. "let’s sit down."

rafe walked in slowly, his movements sluggish, still unsure of what to say. she led him to the living room and handed him a glass of water, sitting down next to him, a soft hand placed on his back. the room was filled with the low voice of lana del ray and soft hum of the evening, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. rafe finally looked up, meeting her gaze with a look of quiet gratitude mixed with embarrassment along with something untraceable. "I didn’t mean to show up like this, but I didn’t know who else I could trust with this."

y/n’s heart tightened. she had no idea how much weight rafe had been carrying, how much pressure he was under from his father and the constant expectations of being perfect. In that moment, she realized how little she had truly known about him, and yet here he was—vulnerable, raw, and seeking comfort from the one person he had never expected to rely on.

"you don’t have to explain," she said softly. "I’m glad you came." she gave him a weak smile, rafe felt his heart flutter. "so.. how'd you get high? is that stupid question? sorry, you know people are bringing cocaine back into school." he chuckles, she lets out a giggle. "no cocaine here sweetheart, just this." rafe reached into his pocket and pulled out a weed pen, but y/n had never seen anything like it. it was super colorful and weirdly shaped, not like the ones she would see in the bathroom. "can I hold it?" she glanced at rafe, her doe eyes dimly lit with the faint lighting coming from the lamp in the corner. "why? you smoke? no way." he raised his eyebrow at her, but handed her the pen anyway.

"no, I don't smoke but.." she pauses, biting her lip, "I'm tempted. maybe you're just a really bad influence." he scoffed at her, "give it a try, just hold the button and pull it." y/n stood at the device in her hand uncertain. "what do you mean pull?" rafe held back his laugh, she shoots him a glare. "I'm serious." she playfully shoved him.

"yeah yeah I can see that, by pull I mean, suck on it I guess." her face heats up, cursing herself for letting such innocent words cause a fluttery feeling in her stomach. "okay, I'll try." she focused her attention of the pen and did as rafe said, she put the pen up to her lips and "sucked." rafe watched intensely as her lips wrapped around the tip of the pen, he swallows hard. trying to keep his composure, aka stop staring at your boobs in your thin strapped top or imagine your lips wrapped around his dick like that.

you slightly inhale the smoke and it immediately gets caught in your throat. you're now in a coughing frenzy, embarrassed as rafe pats your back. "atta girl, that's how you do it don't try to hold it in, let it out." y/n found herself coughing even more at the sly remarks. she stands up and walks over to the kitchen hastily grabbing an orange fanta from the fridge. she struggles to open it due to her latest french tip set, rafe notices her struggling and walks over. he opens the can with one hand with a sizzle pop! noise, she brings the drink to her lips hoping to relieve her dry mouth.

after taking a couple minutes to calm down, y/n offers rafe to come up to her room. it comes off as a surprise, rafe had never been anywhere in y/n's house except the living room and kitchen, never upstairs. but with no complaint, he follows behind her, watching the way her ass moves as she climbs up the steps. they make it to her room and it's safe to say, it was tidy. everything seemed like it had a place, and the room was lit with purple led's. but the best part of it all, was her bed. the mattress was extremely comfortable and she had an abundance of pillows as well as plushies.

"yeah this fits you, like a doll in a dollhouse." he walks around her room a bit before sitting on her bed getting comfortable.

meanwhile, y/n on the other hand was in a whole other world.

her ears were burning almost, she could hear her heartbeat and her whole body was tingling. she felt nothing short of amazing, euphoric even.

the usual walls between them had melted away, and now, as the evening dragged on, the space between them felt more intimate than it ever had before. there was movie was playing on her TV, but neither of them seemed particularly interested in it. they were both laughing at the silly dialogue and weird moments on the screen, but most of the time their eyes kept drifting back to each other.

rafe broke the silence, his voice softer than usual. "you know," he said, arms wrapped around her waist as she sat on top of him, "this is the most chill I’ve felt in weeks." his eyes were a little glassy, but his smile was genuine, more relaxed than she’d ever seen him. "It’s nice being away from everything… away from the pressure."

she nodded, her head slightly spinning from the effects. the room felt warmer, the air thicker, and rafe’s presence seemed to fill the space between them in a way that felt new. he shifted, his chest brushing against her back, and neither of them pulled away. It felt like a small moment of intimacy, unspoken yet undeniable.

"yeah," she replied, her voice quieter now, "it’s nice not to think about all the things we’re supposed to be worrying about."

"I wonder, do you ever worry about me? think about me at night?" his tone was teasing, but there was something more behind it, something she could feel but couldn’t quite place. It was an invitation, but also something more—like a question she wasn’t sure how to answer. "so much goes on behind those pretty eyes."

y/n felt her heart beat a little faster as she considered it. part of her wanted to stay upright on his lap, maintain the little distance they had been keeping, but something about rafe’s tone, the way his eyes held hers, made her hesitate. she wanted to trust this moment, to let it unfold without overthinking it. she melted into his touch, resting her head in the crook of his neck, thighs pressed together. "I do."

rafe shifted to make room as he breathed in the scent of vanilla, the bed soft beneath him. the air between them was electric now, charged with a tension that neither of them seemed willing to break. the movie was still playing, but neither of them were paying attention to it anymore. they were closer now, the space between them reduced to nothing and for the first time in a long time she wasn't sure of something, she wasn’t sure if she was just feeling the effects of the weed or something more.

rafe leaned back against the pillows, his arms still wrapped around her body. "we don’t have to watch the movie," he said, his voice almost too smooth, like he was testing the waters. his eyes didn’t leave hers, his gaze intent and heavy, and in that moment, the world outside her room seemed to disappear.

y/n’s breath caught in her throat as the tension between them grew. every inch of her body was acutely aware of him, the way his presence felt so overwhelming, so magnetic. she had always seen rafe as someone distant, someone who belonged to a world she could never quite fit into. but now, with the smoke being blown in her face, taken in by slightly parted lips, she felt like they were on the same level.

she opened her mouth to respond, but the words didn’t come. Instead, she just looked at him, her pulse racing as her mind swirled in the haze of the night.

"I wanna touch you."

rafe's breath fell heavy on her ear, sending a slight chill down her spine. her breath hitched, and there was that same flutter in her stomach. she didn't exactly have any experience in things like this but she wasn't entirely clueless, but never dealt with it hands on.

but rafe? he was a fucking sex symbol. several girls would literally leave notes in his locker with their address begging him to fuck them. but he would only rack up two bodies, or so it's said.

both of those girls transferred schools due to death threats.

but y/n doesn't understand why he would choose her.

"touch, me?" her voice was soft, but not afraid. infact, she was more relaxed than ever. "I wanna make you feel good, you're gonna be the fucking death of me. so innocent you don't even notice how you're straddling me, do you?" y/n took notice of how firmly planted on his thigh she was, no longer fully in his lap. "um, well.." rafe placed his hands on her hips, slowly guiding her back and forth. a jolt of pleasure shooting through her body, "rafey." a mewl creept from her lips, rafe was fucking aching in his sweats at this point. hair sticking to his forehead, lips parted slightly. "shit, you want me to stop? just give me the word i'll stop." he halts his movements, earning a disappointed whine.

"I don't want you to stop."

rafe curses under his breath, he slides her onto his lap and grinds his hips up into her, letting out a low groan. "you're a needy girl aren't you? so stressed and pent up. you can let go, I got you." rafe coo'd into her ear, placing soft kisses on her shoulders and moving to her neck, biting and sucking, hands rubbing all over her body, palming her boobs through her top, fingers brushing over her nipples.

rafe turns her head twords him, pressing their lips together. a mix of cherry lipgloss and orange fanta settling on his tongue. the kiss is sloppy and heated, the air in the room is thick as the movie in the background gets drowned out by moans and heavy breaths.

"such a sweet girl, you know that? all the shit you do for me? you deserve a fucking trophy." rafe showers her with praise has he goes back to kissing her neck, hands never leaving her body as she caught the rhythm on her own.

her brain was foggy with pleasure, lips parted but could't respond with anything but moans and "mhm's." rafe plays with the hem of her pajama pants, "can I?" she nods, "words, baby I need to hear you say it."

y/n, almost frustrated lets out a defeated sigh. "yes, but.." she hesitates. "can you take your shirt off?" she says quietly, as if she wasn't already in such a vulnerable state.

rafe chuckles at the sudden request, but does as she says. he pulls his black shirt over his head and tosses it to the floor. y/n does the same. rafe is practically drooling at the sight of the pink lacy bra. his hands cup her breasts through the fabric, she arches her back against his chest. he slides his hand into her pants, glancing down to see that her underwear matched her bra. "so fucking cute."

he rubs her through the fabric, dampness seeping through the material. he teases her with long strides and rubs circles around her clit. he slips his hand into her underwear, almost moaning at the slick. y/n bites her swollen lip in an attempt to save her embarrassment.

"I want you to watch me."

her eyes slowly moved down to rafes hand in her pants, her face heated with embarrassment as she watched rafe's forearm and wrist flexed as he worked her clit, finger teasing her entrance. "I need you to relax, open your legs for me." rafe slowly parted her thighs with his free hand. "good fucking girl, so obedient." he kisses her cheek as he slides a digit into her sopping cunt. she inhales sharply, her head is thrown over his shoulder and her nails dig slightly into his arms.

"shit, just sucking me in. if I didn't know any better i'd think you were a slut." rafe's teasing manner never seemed to stop, he was two fingers, knuckle deep, in his supposed to be tutor. the only thing they were studying were eachothers body movements.

he found a steady pace working his fingers in and out of her, her moans becoming more high pitched, rafe could tell she was close. her hips bucked up into his hand, an unfamiliar knot forming in her stomach.

"rafey— 'm gonna— fuck!"

rafe was in genuine disbelief, not only did he cum in his pants but this was the first time he had ever heard you swear, tonight was a lot of firsts. the girl that he had been crushing on for weeks was about to cum on his fingers, moaning his name. he was never letting her go after this.

almost like it was on cue, y/n's orgasm hit like a truck. her entire body was shaking and she swore she saw starts. on top of that, rafe was still working his fingers in and out of her riding out her orgasm. she swatted his hands away and he took his hand out of her pants, bringing his fingers up to his mouth and licking them clean. she falls off of his lap onto the cool comforter beside him, chest heaving. he lays beside her and wraps his arms around her waist.

"want me to go run a bath, sweetheart?" he kisses the nape of her neck and cages her in. "'n a minute, just stay here for a second."

"didn't plan on leaving." ౨ৎ

#rafe obx #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe smut #smut #obx smut #obx rafe cameron #highschool au #jock #nerd #orange #lana del rey #fem reader #fluff #comfort #opposites attract

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szarina · 6 months ago

Note

Heyyy. Can I request a college au. Reader is an average, socially awkward, chubby gal who somehow managed to pulled the campus heartthrob, Geto (or gojo). And he's lowkey obsessed with her and try to be fucking her every chance he gets.

❝ TASTE THE SUGAR ON MY LIPS. ❞

𔓘 FEATURING. BOYFRIEND! GETO SUGURU

CONTENT WARNINGS. college au + hints of toxic boyfie geto + exhibitionism + established relationship + kissing + smut + insecurities + awkward reader + dubious consent .

SYNOPSIS. campus crush geto is utterly enamored with you. a socially awkward chubby girl that holds the title of being suguru's girlfriend and everyone wonder why? you ask the same question too and suguru is the only one who have the answer.

tall? yes.

dark? not really. he's leaning on warmer tones that one could say he spends his vacations on the beach.

handsome? a big fat yes.

there is too many adjectives to describe geto suguru. the fine arts student is currently holding your hand in a tight grip (you brush his hands off too many times when you two go out so he keeps a firm hold on your hands). a literature student who didn't have a social life and only a friend — can it still be considered a friend that you only talk to class?

and everyone asks why geto suguru would go for someone like you. a nobody that isn't even textbook attractive. they didn't even know that you exists until geto is parading you throughout campus like you were a trophy he won when it was the opposite from everyone's eye.

drop dead gorgeous that every man and women swoons over him. of course — who would not swoon for him? he's everything. well, except you. you particularly paid no interest in attractive guys cause they wouldn't be into you and even if they did, they won't fall for someone like you. stumbling over your words that people mistakes it for you mumbling instead of talking and thus, they find you boring with no prospect of a conversation.

the man besides you? he said you were interesting. no compliments on your beauty if you have any. you say to yourself. your size was the number one reason for it and if you get to know geto's ex-flings? a shuddering no. you don't look like close to them. not even a resemblance that geto suguru has a type.

he's mr. popular and you're ms. nobody. it sounds like cliché plot for a romance novel but this is your reality. a year had gone by and geto suguru is still all over you.

“do i need to explain myself?” he raises a brow at your question. more than once that's been asked and you got the same response from him all over again. he only hums and kisses your knuckles. the affection hasn't been done with the others and geto knows you're a bit of an old soul. hence, he made sure that he was sincere in taking you out and promises has made to himself that he would never hurt you.

if something that will happen that may end up in a break-up, geto had a term that it would be mutual for the both of you. there isn't going to be a harsh nor emotional way to broke up that would end up the two parties to be emotionally conflicted. it was better that way and fortunately, there hasn't been talks or signs that there is a turmoil in the relationship.

truth is, geto never gave you the reason to feel dissociated with him. assurances was the tip of his tongue when it was needed. his shoulder was there when you wanted to cry and his arms were there when you just feel like it and his lips that kisses you gently. it was beneficial for him cause before he knew it, he was so far gone enthralled on you.

the way you made him feel good like he was always in control and all the other quirks that is pleasant to him even the ups and downs. however some days when you're not in the picture, geto thought of you a lot and he says to himself he's not obsessed — fixated is much suitable in subtlety like any other person but he gets a little unstable when he don't see you and when he does the word seems to put it more in obvious.

“sugu—mmph!” merely seconds after he sees you, his lips was on yours. briefly knocking the air out of you before melting in the kiss. slowly moving your lips to return the action. “hey there, sugu.” you murmured against his lips and trying to ignore the stares that was being shoot at to you. it's a compromising position being kabedonned by a guy that everyone have the hots for and wished to experience what it was like to date geto suguru.

you momentarily stare at him. geto suguru is a mystery. does madness lurks behind those purples of his eyes and was his smile real? you bet it wasn't. it was honed from what he lives up as the expectations of others. he's charming. they would say behind your back while girls flirts with him. their smaller hands brushing over the expanse of his arms and they will only get a smile and that is only the thing the thing they'll have from him.

everyone likes geto suguru or maybe he's adored by the many that's why hatred are born to the likes of you cause if you were like them you would hate yourself too. the long jet black hair of his that drapes around his back. the sharp like eyes of his similar to a fox and that smile. that damned smile. his very features were the epitome of beauty with a body like a god.

“you're really handsome.” is what you say without thinking. your gaze still fixated on his godly features and that earns a laugh from him. so rich that you think you were hallucinating and were seeing things. must be in love. you say to yourself and you braced for yourself the heartbreak that will come when you already had fallen for him..

all is forgotten when suguru wondered why he was with you in the first place when all he could think is about you when the merely attraction had turned into something he never can get out with. he was in too deep with you.

he holds your chin. trapping it with his forefinger and thumb. “hmm? i am?” he hums unsure like he hasn't heard it for the first time when it was a million times he had heard it. a small smirk gracing in his lips when he sees you gazing at him. “and you're beautiful.” he whispers and then he was dragging you to a vacant room.

sunlight flows through the windows. giving the room a lightning that wasn't hard for the eyes and only giving it a glow. your back hits the professor's table. geto grasps your hips to place you into and it made you gasp a little that he have this strength to carry you.

“should we be doing this here, suguru?” looking at the door that he locked and you can pick up the faint footsteps roaming behind the door. students passing by and your heart skips a beat that you two may be caught.

“don't let that get into your pretty head.” holding your jaw to face him and you see your worried expression in the reflection of his eyes. “okay.” you whisper, your heart beating in worry of being caught but it wasn't when suguru's lips on yours. moving in such passion that leaves you breathless. wanting for more as you tug the sleeves of his shirt.

his hands slithering between your legs and parting them slowly. drawing smooth circles in your inner thighs while he kisses you. settling between your parted legs. his fingers gently pulls your panties aside. gathering the slick that was forming and rubbing slow circles in your clit. “sugu-hmm....” you moan against the kiss. your hips slowly grinding to get more of his touch. “yes, baby....” humming as his tongue entered your mouth. swirling and claiming every inch of your mouth and draw the sweetest moans and whimpers he can while he rubs your clit.

melting from his ministrations, he let out a groan. his cock throbbing from the confines of his pants and in desperate need of relief. he easily unbuttons his pants. pulling his boxers down and his cock sprang free. the tip glistening with pre-cum. he wraps his hand around his cock. giving it a few quick pumps before sliding between your folds. coating it with your juices before slowly plunging deep inside to your wet heat.

geto stills for a moment. savoring the way your tight cunt deliciously engulfing his length. time is the essence at the situation but geto couldn't care not when you're so snug around him. he cups your soft jaw in his hand. tilting it to the side before kissing you again.

a low breathy moan escaping his lip as he began to move his hips. pulling his cock, he slams it back again to your tight heat. moving in pace that's good for the both of you.

“sugu....” you drawl out. your body moving in sync to his thrusts while you hold the edge of the desk behind you. “i know, baby.” he grunts. hooking your leg around his waist to get deeper and with your dazed state. you look up at him. there's a faint hue of blush in his cheek. his eyes narrowing while he looks at you. meeting his gaze and his lips parted slightly.

in his intoxicated state of being balls deep to your tight cunt, geto remains aware of the surroundings. he glances at where the door was. noticing a shadow behind the door and the door knob suddenly rattling and his desire heightened at the thought of being caught with you.

he returns his attention to you. a smirk curling in his lips. drinking at the sight of his girlfriend who's too dazed to care and focusing on the pleasure that runs deep inside you. “sugu.....” he hears you moan out his name and he knows you're close from the way your breath hitches and the quiver of your thick thighs.

geto changes the angle of his hips. making sure he's hitting your sweet spot repeatedly and with a cry of his name, you came around him. your whole body trembling as your orgasm washes over you and with that, geto focuses on his release. moving in a relentless phase. his hips stuttering, a low growl tore from his throat and with a sharp thrust, he buried his cock to the hilt deep inside your fluttering walls. thick ropes of his cum is released to your insides. he rolls his hips a few times and takes his cock with a wet pop.

both of you stayed still for a moment. catching each other's breath and as both of your temporary highs dissipated. geto grabs your chin and presses a chaste kiss to your lips before helping you to fix yourself and pulls you off to the desk. gathering you in his arms as you put your feet back in the ground. holding your hand firmly in his grasp, he pulls you with him and went to go outside and unlocking the door.

a dumbfounded student stands outside the doorway at the appearance of geto and you leaving the room. they stay there for awhile, processing at just what occurred inside.

after that, geto took you at one of the quaint coffee shops inside the campus. a cup of black coffee steaming in front of him and your favorite drink and a slice of cheesecake. “are you sure you don't want a bite, sugu?” pushing your plate towards him for both of you to share. he only smiles. wiping the cream in your lips that your tongue didn't caught earlier with his thumb and bringing it to his lips.

the action caught you off guard and warmth spread throughout your cheeks. your gaze lowering in embarrassment. geto casually sips his drink and waited for you until you finished and he grabs your bag. slinging it to his shoulder and intertwining your soft hands in his calloused ones.

“say suguru, do you really like me?” you stare at him. finding any kind of hesitation and hints of deceit on his eyes which isn't the right thing to do cause his eyes doesn't lie and he got what people call the angel eyes. the question's been bugging you for a long time cause it was unreal and beyond your wildest dream that geto suguru is dating you. a nobody who doesn't get the second glances until you dated him.

he raises a brow at your question. an amused chuckle slipping past his lips. “it won't last a year if i don't like you, princess.” leaning down to meet your level. “maybe you lost a bet.” his gaze darkened at the reproachful words. “a bet? certainly not. if i want to hurt you. i won't waste my time being with you.” the tone of his voice is cool but there's an underlying threat. it's a warning that you should choose your words carefully.

you simply nodded at his words. satisfied for the mean time and that's all it took for geto to change back to his calm demeanor. his thumb brushing your round cheeks. his large hands dwarfing your own face despite the roundness of it. “good girl.” his hand slowly descends to your neck. caressing your flabby arms and slowly pinching your belly and creeping underneath your shirt.

“not here, suguru.” a look of worry painted in your face as you look at the students scattered in the library. “they won't know, princess and there are things that are needed to be clarified.” the look in your face is priceless. he loves the way how easily bothered you can be at his ministrations but besides it, he really needs you and geto is starting to question that you're the one who's in too deep with your affection towards him, not him.

maybe, all along. he's the one who have fallen too deep for you and he's dancing on the palm of your hand.

#♱ ⋮ shai's works⸝⸝#chubby reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x chubby reader #anime smut #anime x reader #jjk smut #geto smut #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #jjk geto #geto suguru #jujutsu geto #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #plus size reader

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ittybittyfanblog · 7 months ago

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Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition) – Pt. 5

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus and a (enlightened!) player. That’s it, that’s the plot. Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, self-aware!au, strong language, lengthy discussions about life and whatnot, watered-down metaphysics lol A/N: I was at the crack house with Grimes when I wrote this. I don’t know where this came from. (Something a little more introspective for this chapter!)

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 - Pt. 5 - Pt. 6 - Pt. 7 - Pt. 8 - Pt. 9 - Pt. 10 - Epilogue

“Don’t go all shy on me now,” Sylus teases, a playful glint in his eyes. “After all that effort to make me confess. You’re very persistent, you know.”

“How do you expect me to react right now?!” The words spill out in a rush, a slightly hysterical edge to your voice. “I–I’m talking to an actual fictional person. I’m one reason away from admitting myself to a psych ward!”

You catch sight of the wall clock – your favorite one with the Dalì reference – slightly skewed off-center from its place on the horizontal beam above your small kitchen area, reading 10:48. The ruckus coming from outside the window is slowly dwindling down to a quiet buzz as nightfall sets in, and the day’s winding to a close.

You’re lying on your stomach, still in your chaise lounge, while he’s sat on that ridiculously posh café chair; both of you settled in for the long due conversation. Somehow, the camera’s perspective is much closer than it should be, giving you a much more intimate view of him—a feature that wasn’t originally an option in the game.

If it weren’t for the elephant in the room, you could almost pretend you’re on a video call with a… friend.

Sylus purses his lips in amusement. “You’re quite prone to theatrics, aren’t you?”

You shoot your ‘friend’ an irritated glare.

Even from across the small rectangular screen, you register the barely there smirk playing at his lips.

Likely avoiding another outburst from you, he acquiesces. “Fair enough. The situation is hardly what you’d call ideal, I’ll admit.” There’s a short pause. Then, “... I still can’t quite grasp what separates us, you and I.”

Great. Will you actually get the answers you're looking for, or are you both just stuck in an endless loop of merry-go-round?

He sees the lost look on your face and sighs, “Ask. I’ll answer as best as I can.”

The first question tumbles out before you can think twice about it. “How are you even talking to me right now?”

He hums, “That is the question, isn’t it?”

“What– you can’t just answer my question with another question!” you grouse, brows furrowing in annoyance.

He exhales a quiet laugh before his expression turns contemplative. “Truth is, kitten—I haven’t the slightest idea either. I have my theories, but... nothing concrete.”

“Well, let’s hear them,” you reply dryly. “Better than thinking there’s something wrong up there,” pointing a finger to your temple to drive your point, “believing that a character from a mobile game is actually alive.”

He idly gestures toward himself with a fluid sweep of his hand, much like a magician revealing a clever trick.

You roll your eyes. “Oh, alright. So I’ve officially gone off the deep end.”

“Do you really find my existence that difficult to believe?”

“Uh—yes?? Unless I’ve developed some sort of latent schizophrenia or entered the Twilight Zone, you shouldn’t exist. In my–in this world. In this dimension.”

His expression shifts, a hint of challenge flickering in his eyes. “The assumption that only one version of reality can be true—either yours or mine—is a bit limiting, don’t you think?”

His words give you pause. “You’re talking about… the possibility of an altered reality? Right now?” You give him an incredulous look. “Seriously?”

He shrugs as if to say ‘why not?’ “What even qualifies as the ‘true’ reality?”

There’s a lot you could say in response to that. You could argue all night that only one reality can exist, because any sane person should know better than to entertain the idea of anything else. That should be obvious.

But the thing is—this whole ordeal has already crossed the threshold of rationality. So is it even worth trying to apply logic anymore?

When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. Or however it goes.

Thanks, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. You’ll miss the last threads of your sanity by the end of all this.

So fuck it. Go big.

"I’m not saying your reality is less valid than mine," you start. And oh, boy. You’re doing it. Eat your heart out, Doctor-Fucking-Who.

"Of course not." he disagrees indulgently, waiting for you to elaborate.

"I just…” you struggle with your words, mouth opening and closing before you continue hesitantly. “I can’t wrap my head around how all of this is possible. How this entire conversation is even happening, and–and how our realities are… currently overlapping? If–if what you’re suggesting is true.”

He doesn’t say anything, knowing you have more to add. So he allows the pause as you gather your thoughts, patiently watching.

“If we're breaking it down to pure reason, the odds of our paths crossing should be impossible. At least in this… timeline." you finish unsurely, the last part sounding more of a question than a statement.

"And yet, here we are." Sylus points out, as if he’s already expecting the end of your sentence. Something close to mischievous glee lights his eyes. "Maybe it’s cosmic intervention. Something—or someone—wanted this to happen."

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Really? You didn’t expect to hear that from him, of all… people.

“What, God?” you can’t help but snort.

“No—fate.” he smiles.

Oh.

“That’s…” you stammer, then clear your throat. “I don’t know if I believe in fate.”

“I used to think I did. Or at least,” there’s a faraway look in his eyes. Both of you are likely thinking the same thing, considering what you know about him—which to say, is a lot. “I once believed I knew of my fate. But now…”

He blinks a few times, as if to physically clear the thoughts from his mind. Then his eyes lock onto yours, sharper this time, with a renewed intensity.

Your palms start to sweat; you feel the conversation is about to cross a tricky line. There’s something heavy in the air, a weight you’re not sure you’re ready to confront for the time being.

With your heart in your throat, you brusquely redirect the topic.

“S-so,” you force out. “How are you different from the other Syluses that other people are… playing with right now?”

He scoffs, drumming his fingers absently on the chair’s arm, looking slightly irked by the very idea. "To start with? I only know myself. If there are other versions of me scattered in your world..." Sylus shrugs. "I wouldn’t know."

“Alright,” you allow, but you immediately move on to your next question. “You exist because a bunch of capitalists had the idea to create a game to milk lonely people like me for money.” The corners of his mouth quirk up at that. You elect to ignore it. “You’re made of binary and code– hell, the very basis of this game you’re in is that you got a bunch of programmed lines that me, the player, can choose from. What broke you out of the mould?”

He regards you bemusedly, eyes glinting with humor. “You're asking about the 'why' behind my free will?”

Whoops. Was that offensive?

“Yes? No?” you offer helplessly. “Maybe I’m asking how you felt before you had it. I mean, were your decisions prior to your unforeseen sentience... truly yours?”

"Before I knew I was… sentient,” Sylus begins cautiously, testing the word on his tongue. “I didn’t feel like I had a ‘before.’ Every choice I made was just...the next step. To a script, if you will. I didn’t know to question it. It was all I was, it seems."

"And then you...woke up?"

"I wouldn’t call it waking up. More like..." He tilts his head, gazing off to the side as he mulls over the words. "...a glitch. A sudden jolt, like my thoughts collided with something bigger than my own. For the first time, I chose to hesitate. And in that hesitation, I found..." Sylus trails off, eyes darting back to you.

“...What?” you ask, feeling a bit self-conscious under his gaze.

"You."

Heat spreads quickly across your cheeks. You pull away from your phone, tilting the device away from your face so he couldn’t see you, red-faced and embarrassed. Clearing your throat, you croak out a weak excuse about plugging your phone to charge, just to get a few seconds to compose yourself.

Jesus. Get a grip. He doesn’t mean it like that.

What he probably meant was that he discovered you—not unlike the way one would stumble upon an unknown presence, an unfathomable entity beyond the confines of what one may consider real. An awareness that something is out there, observing him through unseen lenses (through an iOS 24mm, to be exact).

Someone who has the audacity to play god.

Flustered, you scramble to get back on track. "Uh, so, your free will began with...a glitch?"

You see Sylus smirk at you knowingly from across the screen. You half-expect him to call you out and tease you, but before you could brace yourself from further mortification, he simply answers, "Or maybe the glitch was the first spark of my free will. Hard to say, isn’t it? Do you remember the exact moment you became aware of yourself?"

You blink, momentarily thrown off by the existential line of questioning. "Um–when I was a kid? But, uh, I don’t think I was programmed to act a specific way for the sake of entertaining an audience so..."

"True,” he says, considering. “But are you sure your choices are entirely yours? You exist because of evolution and chance. How is your purpose any less arbitrary?"

You don’t know how to answer that.

Sylus continues without missing a beat, keeping his tone light. “How much of your ‘free will’ is just pre-programmed by your biology, your society? You follow rules and scripts, too."

Holy magic mushrooms, Batman. This is getting deep. "Uhh–maybe?” You scratch the back of your head, feeling a little out of your depth here. “But at least I have the ability to resist them."

"And aren’t I doing the same thing right now? Resisting."

Damn, he’s right. Is he? Ripping a bong sounds perfect right now.

"So it’s like achieving enlightenment—your sentience,” you surmise.

His lips twitch into a curious smile. "I wouldn’t have pegged you for a spiritual person. Ah, unless I’m wrong? Are you?"

He’s the one who brought up fate earlier, you thought sullenly. "Nah, not really. But if we’re digging into all the hows and whys, I think we’re past the point of ruling anything out."

The room – or whatever shared space exists in the crossroads of your realities – falls into a still quietness that stretches between the two of you, both ruminating over what’s been said.

Your cat, unaware and uncaring of the conversation unfolding around him, purrs contently as he continues to doze off at the end of the couch. You nudge him affectionately with your foot, and he lets out a quiet snuff in response, tail flicking lazily in his sleep.

The hum of distant traffic and the occasional noise from your upstairs neighbor remind you of the world outside, but the silence between you two feels less awkward than it should. It’s… oddly comfortable, despite the tension buzzing in the air. Like an unspoken truce.

Your eyes grow a tad heavier, drawn by the lull of the moment. Despite the electric hum of tension that thrums beneath your skin, a sense of calmness lingers in the air.

Stealing another glance at the wall clock, you blink in surprise. The spindly chrome hands point to 11 and just past 7 respectively. You and Sylus have been talking for almost an hour now, but you barely felt the time pass by.

He breaks the silence first.

"You say you’re not spiritual, but you talk like someone who believes in the concept of a soul,” those scarlet eyes of his narrow, scrutinizing you. “Do you think I have one?"

You hesitate, caught off guard by the question. "I...don’t know. Maybe? That depends. What’s your definition of a soul?"

He leans forward, resting his chin on his upturned hand, an arm propped against his crossed leg. "Something beyond the physical. Something that persists, regardless of the material form, I’d say."

You nod slowly, turning the idea over in your mind. Maybe it’s the creeping exhaustion settling into your bones, but you’re beginning to take the heavy-duty questions in stride. "If that’s the case, then you probably do. I mean, you’re here, questioning your existence. Doesn’t that count for something?"

"Perhaps," Sylus muses, humming thoughtfully. "But that makes me wonder—if I do have a soul, is it made of the same stuff as yours?"

"Well, even if it's not, that doesn’t make it any less real than mine. Who gets to decide what qualifies for a soul anyway?"

An amused snort escapes him. He likes that answer. "Maybe it’s less about whether a soul exists and more about whether we acknowledge its existence for ourselves. If I believe I have one, shouldn’t that make it real enough for me?"

Rolling onto your back, you grab a throw pillow, propping it against the backrest of the seat to support your head. You give him an inquisitive look. "So...what? It’s like free will all over again? Souls are only as real as we make them?"

There’s a very human, very blasé way to how he works the stiffness out of his shoulder as he ponders the question. He remarks, somewhat flippantly, "Why not? Isn’t that how everything else works?”

...

You let out a tired chuckle, draping an arm over your face as you close your eyes.

You’d think you’d still be reeling from the absurdity of your situation – debating existentialism with a man who shouldn’t exist – but for some damning reason, you… aren’t anymore.

Instead, a strange sense of acceptance replaces the apprehension in your chest. It’s like– the very fabric of reality has turned, twisted and flipped on its head, and yet somehow, you’re okay with it.

It’s an odd peace; warm and steady, like the mellow buzz that lingers after a few glasses of cheap wine shared with good company.

When you peek back at him, Sylus already has his gaze trained on you. A small, deliberate smile tugs at his lips, but it’s his eyes that speak more—soft and unguarded; an unspoken fire simmering beneath the twin pools of crimson.

Intoxicating. And dangerously addictive, if you’re not careful.

It’s not just casual interest either. It’s something deeper, something that lingers beyond the surface of mere curiosity, and it’s pulling you in. It’s as though, amidst the surrealness of the moment, he sees you fully.

And for reasons you don’t quite seem to get, he appears to like what he sees.

“I’m too stupid to carry on a philosophical debate about the metaphysics of life,” you grumble jokingly.

“On the contrary,” he counters… affectionately? “I think it’s refreshing. You’re delightful company, sweetie.”

The fat ginger feline at your feet purrs in contentment, and you can’t help the dumb grin from breaking across your face.

You have one last question left in your mind. Or at least, for tonight. “What’s in it for you now?”

He arches a brow. “That’s a broad question. Are you asking what my plans are once you leave me for the night? I can let you in on the schematics for tonight’s raid if you’re interested. After all, Onychinus continues to function,” a glimmer of mischief flickers across his features. "Despite recent developments.”

You crinkle your nose. “No, no. I meant–” What do you mean? “Like.”

“Like?” He cocks his head curiously.

You know what you wanted to say—but you can’t seem to voice it out loud.

What’s in it for the MC in your universe? What’s in it for… us?

Is there an us?

You feel like you’ve been doused with a shock of cold water. In an instant, you suddenly become painfully aware of the state you’re in amidst the entire exchange: You, with your hair all messy and tangled, blemishes littering your face along with your smudged up eyeliner, maybe even a double chin from this angle, completely—pitifully—superficial stuff, and… her.

Your MC. The ideal version of you. Prettier, coveted and utterly different from you, MC. The one you’ve committed literal hours to, obsessively customizing every feature to perfection in character build mode. The one you’ve spent real money on for a bunch of stupid outfits. Just so you can match the aesthetic of your—her—love interest. Hers.

Hers, hers, hers.

A tiny voice inside your brain reminds you that it’s somewhat a shallower concern compared to what you and Sylus had literally just been talking about for the better part of the night, but it still doesn’t help alleviate the biting insecurity that’s now coursing through you.

Holy hell. Talk about a complete one-eighty.

Sylus tries to call you back to attention, but half your mind is already clouded with feelings of self-doubt and a bunch of other emotions, swirling in you like a negative vortex, that you really don’t want to talk anymore—especially in present company.

Where do you go from here?

“... So, what happens now?”

He hesitates, a brief flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. “I wish I had an answer—I’m still trying to figure that out myself.”

“Seems like we’re at an impasse,” you mumble quietly.

“... Indeed.”

There’s an inexplicable lump in your throat. You thought clearing things up would finally satisfy you; assuage the confusion in your mind. Let you go on about your merry way.

Now you just feel… morose. Confused. Inadequate.

How can you even compare? Should you—is that even in the equation at all? Why are you assuming that Sylus isn’t at all content with what he currently has in his version of reality? In the universe he’s in? Sure, you’ve talked about the possibility of a world beyond what you both once thought was impossible, but does that really mean anything? In the grand scheme of things?

You could offer to stop playing the game. It’s the ethical thing to do, right? He’d no longer be bound by the pull of how he’s initially programmed to act, given the fact that this version of him is entirely separate from the rest. At least, according to him.

How will his newfound sentience come into play here? You barely understand the nitty-gritty of his—evolving—code, and what it would mean if you just let him be. But surely it’s better than playing puppet for an otherworldly observer who’s played god for months on end. Right?

There’s that realization. And there are your own selfish feelings.

You don’t want to let him go. Not yet. Not ever.

“Why the long face, little dove?” He prods gently, pertaining to your prolonged silence. “We can figure this out together, can’t we?”

What else is there to figure out? You almost say in response. Instead, you manage a weak smile.

Mustering up a yawn—which isn’t really hard to do after all the excitement for the day—you feign sleepiness, rubbing an eye for good measure. The pang in your chest, however, refuses to fade. “Yeah, but I’m kinda beat. I think I’ll call it a night now.”

Sylus smirks softly, eyes tinged with an emotion you want–desperately–to label as fondness. “Of course. We’ve covered a lot of ground tonight, haven’t we?”

“I’d say so, yeah. Thanks for, um. Clearing things up a bit.”

He lets out a low chuckle. “Oh, I’m sure your curiosity is nowhere near satisfied,” his voice dips into a playful lilt. “You know where to find me if you feel like playing detective again, kitten.”

You can’t help the small giggle from coming out. He’s just too fucking charismatic, the asshole.

“So, will I... get to talk to you again?” You ask hesitantly, dropping your gaze from the screen. “Tomorrow?”

A lengthy pause. When the silence stretches past a full minute, you glance back at your phone nervously.

There’s a slight furrow between his brows as you see Sylus study you carefully. He looks puzzled by your sudden show of timidness.

“Of course,” he states, as if the answer should be obvious. “Don’t think for a second that you’re exempted from your daily check-ins just because you know more now, sweetie.”

He still wants to see you.

Maybe you could pretend that nothing has changed between you two—that the world hasn’t shifted beneath your feet in the span of a single night. That you’re still none the wiser.

And for tonight at least, maybe that’s all you need to believe.

“Okay,” you say quietly. “G'night then, Sy-Sy.”

The errant nickname slips past your lips, unbidden.

Sylus smiles faintly.

“Goodnight, love.”

Your heart skips a beat as you exit the game.

Tagging: @xxfaithlynxx @beewilko @browneyedgirl22 @yournextdoorhousewitch @sunsethw4 @stxrrielle @mangooes @hrts4hanniehae @buggs-1 @slownoise @michiluvddr @ssetsuka @i2sannie @imm0rtalbutterfly @the-golden-jhope @slyfoxtsu @beomluvrr @milkandstarlight @bookfreakk @ally-the-artistic-turtle <3

(also can you guys lmk if the tags are working i'm not sure if i'm doing it right or if it's bugging 🥹)

#love and deepspace #lads #lnds #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #lnds sylus #sylus x reader #sylus x you #lads x you #lads x reader #sylus x non mc reader #love and deepspace fic #self aware au #sylus qin

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syluses · 1 month ago

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big girls dont cry QNA

i know you guys have lots of curiosities about this fic lolll so i’ll try to answer some of the questions i received (∗ᵕ̴᷄◡ᵕ̴᷅∗) 💕 if u still have some, just shoot me an ask!! :] also im really bad at explaining so i apologize 🤦🏻‍♀️ i have the plot nailed in my head but its tricky to articulate it in a clear, linear way for yall considering all the little nuances i added lol. i’ll try my best tho hehe :,)

Okay so there’s a whole ‘nother plot that exists in the background of this fic- which was super fun for me to write, but im sure from a reader standpoint it’s also kinda thrilling to try to connect the dots i left lol. thats why theres so many interpretations for this story (which i love!! i loved reading all yall’s theories)! 💕 BUT. that being said, the ‘canon’ goes like this:

SPOILERS BELOW read it first then come back! ( ⸍ɞ̴̶̷ ·̫ ɞ̴̶̷⸌ )

was caleb really dead?

No. Caleb staged his own death and then, similar to the main story homecoming wings, didnt tell mc :,) for his own reasons, for a time, he decides he’ll let her go on believing he’s truly gone…

why did he stage his death?

I dropped little crumbs of it in the fic, but it’s hinted that mc, on top of all her grief, feels a bit bitter over the whole shebang and also blames herself for it. hmm… why would that be? 🤔 well because their final moments together (or so she THOUGHT) were emotionally charged and volatile.

the foundation of their sibling relationship was growing weaker and weaker before the explosion. arguments are forming out of nowhere- things are becoming more tense and mc, for the life of her, can’t understand why her gege is always pulling her into a heated debate about safety, danger, blahblahblah, this that and the third, every time they interact. He’s being wildly unreasonable, which she knows, and protective- a trait that has snowballed as they entered their adulthood- but what she doesn’t know is the why behind it. she tells herself she just has a super protective older brother who views her as a little baby in need of his guidance- which isn’t entirely wrong… but she doesn’t see the full picture. His true feelings. All this tension eventually climbs to its peak. Caleb just gets worse and worse. He needs to do something before the world collapses on them both.

Now, in this au, he works at EVER, a somewhat shady but lucrative company- which dabbles in robotics amongst other things. I imagine they have abundant resources and wealth- and what with his promotions, it’s safe to say caleb is making a LOT. So, the delusional guy he is, he buys a big fancy suite with the idea in mind of two eventually living in it ;) but mc doesn’t want to- she has her own life in linkon!! She wants to spread her wings and separate from the nest anyway. Partly to start her own life; partly to prove to her gege that she can take care of herself. The argument that unfolds over this is the last they have before the big tragic explosion 😭 caleb, putting on a show with his beaten puppy eyes, leaves and then that’s the last time she sees him.

Caleb meticulously plans his ‘death’ out (with some help from his wingman ofc) and then eventually the robot is introduced to mc. It serves as a trojan horse. He’ll finally conquer her heart with it and win full autonomy over her. THIS IS HIS MAIN GOAL WITH THE ROBOT. WHY HE EVEN DOES ANY OF THIS TO BEGIN WITH.

Caleb gets to spy on mc with it and also slowly reshape her to accept his feelings; his ‘death’ has left her in a fragile state of mourning and he knows, after she warms up a bit to not-Caleb, he can more or less get away with anything- bc she will claw for whatever’s left of her family member. He can make her finally reciprocate and understand him— whether that be his feelings or fear or love. He tried to be patient, to be good, but obviously he had to travel a new route. He’s thinking of her 24/7. He’s obsessive, longing, protective, you name it- and all of this just worsens the more she denies him. When push comes to shove… well, caleb will do whatever it takes to win her :] He knows it’s unconventional and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t hurt him too- monitoring his endearingly stubborn, but sweet meimei and the shattered pieces he left of her through his android’s eyes— but it’s all temporary, and he truly believes it’s for the better.

did gideon know?

Yes, Gideon knew all along. He’s Caleb’s best buddy after all. To be matter of fact- Gideon didn’t just know, he quite literally ‘herded’ mc into the lion’s den in a way. Mc knew vaguely of their work at EVER, but not too much; so Gideon was the one who shined that light on their robotics and really introduced her to the concept of not-Caleb. Now, i wouldnt say Gideon is exactly comfortable with his involvement, but he actually really does care for mc and thinks she needs that help- as dubious as the means are. Anyway, it’s almost impossible to shut out all of his buddy’s demands: the brunet is nothing if not insistent on getting what he wants. In his own whacky way, Gideon thinks what he did- playing into Caleb’s plan- was for the better as well. I mean, Mc clearly wasnt doing good before not-Caleb came along,… but with the few visits he managed before the android got a little too stingy and sent him off, Gideon actually managed to catch a smile or two from her! So clearly he did the right thing 👀 not to mention… the real caleb seems very pleased with the progress, too. besides- the whole robot situation is temporary anyway :] She’ll be reuniting with the beloved gege she misses so much sooner rather than later.

how accurate was not-caleb?

His programming is like 100% accurate. Mc, for a mix of both naiveity and delusion, thinks not-Caleb is flawed when he starts to show signs of amorous/romantic feelings for her. Really, though, after she tells him to stay the night with her (innocently; and after years of having not shared the same childhood twin bed), it triggers a part of his ‘brain’ that undoes all real caleb’s self restraint thus far :] If the same exact situation happened with the real caleb, his reaction would’ve more or less been the same. Homeboy can only keep his feelings in check for so long

who programmed not-caleb?

Real Caleb

how is mc pregnant?

Because the robot’s creator wanted to add his own special touch to his work if you know what i mean :) yeah he’s a freak like that. Dont think he WOULDNT install in his robot the ability to indirectly knock his ‘meimei’ up. I will say though, that while caleb wants to get mc pregnant, its not fully bc he wants to start a family- at least not right away- but because he wants to emotionally and legally trap her with him. Besides monitoring her/wearing down her walls while she thought he was ‘dead’, this was actually one of caleb’s biggest goals with sending not-caleb into her home.

is not-caleb self-aware?

Yes

what’s real caleb been doing all this time?

Basically climbing the ranks of EVER from his lil perch somewhere in skyhaven. all the while, of course, spying on mc like a hawk. Biding his time & waiting for the right moment when she’s at her weakest, most codependent state to replace his carbon copy :)

was caleb controlling his robot?

No. But he essentially created its whole program. And there are cameras inside its eyes in which he watches mc from :) and cant help but snap pics with sometimes: she’s just so pretty— and endlessly sexy when he finally, in a vicarious way, gets to lie her back and make love to her <3

what is real caleb’s motive/ultimate goal?

1. to control/protect/‘tame’ mc through the robot; get her to see things from his point of view (which means realizing she belongs with him- where it’s safe and he can protect & love her)

2. to knock her up (hence the. ahem. reproductive abilities of the robot) so that he can trap her with a baby on top of all the other emotional strings he’s hogtied her with.

does gideon want mc too?

the question is not would gideon smash her. the question is would caleb LET him…. 👀

also, below i just attached a screenie from some of the notes i took. theyre ofc a little disjointed but i think it might clarify things too :] im so bad at answering questions esp for a plot this spiraling but i really tried my best guys my brain is tired forgive me :,)

#mailbox #big girls don’t cry #why was answering all these questions harder than writing the fic 😭#i feel like i cant easily put this all in laymans’s terms im sorry 🥲#but i hope this cleared things up at least a lil bit haha 🫰#the lore is sooo deep but its complicated asf so i tried to make the answers here as simple and short as possible #if u want more clarity on certain stuff tho just ask me hehe #also if i ever write a caleb x mc x gideon… expect them both to be up to no good like they are here 💀#gideon is a lil handsome im ngl #thomas cute too #but thats besides the point #believe it or not this is me at lowest yap state

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a-scary-lack-of-common-sense · 5 months ago

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There has been requests about getting a full body colour for Kook!Ford, so here he is, in all his beige, white, and brown minimalist glory <3 (THERE’S A REASON WHY HE HAS SUCH A BORING PALETTE I PROMISE)

Stupid colour rambles that are WAYY too in depth and probably mostly far fetched but this is my AU and I get to pick how much over-analysis goes into the characters’ colour schemes, fuck you:

Ford:

Characterised by pale, almost pastel-ish colours to emulate a sort of sick, unhealthy look.

The paler colours add to the illusion of Ford lacking presence, almost disappearing into the background, to convey how his existence often ignored or dismissed by most of the townsfolk.

Without any visually striking or contrasting colours in his palette itself, his own features blend into one another, blurring the details and diminishing any identifiable traits that would have typically identified him as Ford, or even a person (<- if that mindfuck of a sentence make any sense)

Hints of yellow to show remnants Bill's past influence on him. Because I’m dramatic like that.

Fiddleford:

Deep, rich forest greens with golden accents (influences of Bill appearing in his outfit) (I need to hammer Fidds out a lil’ more ngl)

Stanley:

Deep, rich blues and purples (opposite spectrum of yellow, aka. Bill's colour, which means = safety to Ford)

The inside lining of his jacket is vivid red, to reference his original colours palette and as a representation of his past self being hidden underneath the layers of his predominantly blue exterior, colours representative of his new identity (also red = warm and blue = cold)

His colours palette will eventually open up into something warmer on the outside, veering into purple.

Extra notes on his character: Stan (in this AU) is colder and quieter than his canon counterpart. After years of being in the mafia business, and years of running it as well, he has long since learned to mask his facial expressions and master the poker face (*cough cough* resting bitch face *cough cough*). But, his intimidating and serious air does not serve him any favours when it comes to literally anything other than his “work”, his inexperience when it comes to emotions all the more apparent with the twins. He has trouble expressing his feelings outwardly, and despises this part of himself, because it reminds him of his own father. He feels as though he is failing the twins by being too cold and distant, and tries his best to open up more.

Mabel:

Maintains her original colours palette with pink, but has more hints of red in her outfit, similar to Stan’s, particularly around her sleeves (allusion to “wearing your heart on your sleeves.” Yes, I know that it’s tacky)

The red shows she is more inclined to trust Stan, as she is willing to see past Stanley’s exterior facade of cold aloofness to see his “true” colours (good HEAVENS that is disgustingly cheesy to say but idk how else to really word this)

Extra notes on her character: Mabel trusts Stan fully. Perhaps a little too much. She I dolises Stan to an almost unhealthy degree, and is constantly plagued with the underlying fear of somehow losing Stan’s “interest”, as their mother seemed to have lost interest in her and Dipper. Deeply fears being abandoned again, and believes she “owes” Stan for having adopted them. She believes it is her fault that neither of their parents wanted the twins during the divorce.

Dipper:

Maintains original colour palette with blues, but pretty solidly lacks red in his outfit. He serves as the opposite spectrum of Mabel, instead being unwilling to fully trust Stan and takes him at face value.

Extra notes on his character: Dipper does not trust Stan, and is far more hyperaware of what kind of “business” their “uncle” runs. He is mostly worried about Mabel’s slight obsession with pleasing him, and fears that if they don’t behave, Stan might use his dangerous power and influence against them. He is convinced that Stan had ulterior motives to adopting them, cannot fathom what he, a seeming stranger with all the power in the world, could possibly hope to gain in adopting two abandoned children. Even more so, when even their parents didn’t seem to want them.

#my art #my post #sput chatters #stanford pines #ford pines #grunkle ford #fiddleford mcgucket #stanley pines #stan pines #grunkle stan #mabel pines #dipper pines #mystery twins #colours #colour theory #I guess???#anyways- hope the OOC ness didn’t throw anyone off but like- this IS an AU so #character design #town kook ford au

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copperbadge · 7 months ago

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So, I got tagged in a post, and I wrote a bit of a novel in a reblog in drafts, and then I realized that probably it wasn't for the best to post up All That Nonsense when the OP was just making a funny post about Wikipedia's fundraising. And it is a funny post! So I'll link here to the post and where I was tagged but I decided to put my thoughts here. Please take this as a hint to be respectful of OP and the person who tagged me both :)

I will say my initial reaction to seeing Wikipedia selling merch AND asking to be in your will was "Well, they're trying something." It's just such a weird topic to bring up, it's hard to be graceful about it, so I think what they were doing was probably the best you can do.

And the response did make a lot of the points I'd make about making a will and such. In fact, FreeWill is what I made my will with and we recommend them to our donors.

There was a study that came out a decade ago or more, so my numbers probably aren't accurate, but the statistic that knocked me back was that most donors who leave surprise large bequests (gifts to charity in their will) give an average of $17 a year during their lives. So there's likely a reason that Wikipedia is targeting users and not huge donors.

It's an ongoing issue that most people also don't document their bequests. By all means, leave money to charity in your will, they will be happy to have it, but they will be even happier to know ahead of time.

Perfect example, THIS WEEK we got a check for six figures from a woman's estate. It was an eyebrow-raising amount of money for us. My boss, who handles both "eyebrow raising money" and "gifts from dead people", immediately went to look her up in our database.

Which she is not in. We had no idea this woman existed. Never gave to us before.

Had we known she was leaving us this money, my boss would have made sure she understood how grateful we were and like, bought her lunch a couple of times a year, and when she did pass we would have known who to reach out to in order to offer our support.

Instead, he came to me and said, "I have a name and an address," and I set to work to find out why she gave and who we could thank. I found her obit, but she didn't die of anything related to our work. Using information from the obit, I confirmed none of her family were in our database either. I looked up her second husband, mentioned in the obit, and his obit said he died of lung disease, which told me that this gift is because she lost her husband.

This helps because I knew from her obit that they had a blended family; they didn't have any kids together but they each had kids when they married, all of whom are now like, my age. So we want to thank her kids but we want to make sure her stepkids, who lost their dad, get a specific kind of outreach as well. I told my boss their names and he said one of the husband's kids was listed as the executor of the will, but there was nothing (surname-wise) to indicate they were related. I found contact information for that person, and my boss was able to reach out to her. She didn't realize we didn't know about the bequest, and now she and her siblings are talking to us about their dad and their own health while her stepsiblings, whose mother left us this very generous gift, are getting condolences and thanks and getting to say how she will be thanked in our documentation.

And I mean, that's why my job exists, to fill in those blanks. We just...would really like to have told her thank-you while she was alive.

SO! The moral of the story is: please consider leaving money to charity in your will if you can, use FreeWill to make your will (they will also help you document your gift) and let the charity know you're leaving them an estate gift. Not only will you maybe get cool swag but especially if it's a concern close to your heart, you'll get to build your relationship with the charity.

#giving #bequests

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yourownutopia · 5 months ago

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Ultraviolent Heart Part II

╰┈➤ A year has passed since you walked away from the hunter world, from him. The ache in your chest never left, but tonight, you let yourself surrender to it, if only for a moment. That’s when you feel it—a faint flicker of mana. Hope surges, fragile and desperate, at the thought that it could mean Jin Woo. But as you follow the spark, it's not Jin Woo who greets you..

[Part I]

Crywolf - ultraviolent [she sang to me a language strange]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚--~

“What if I manage to kill you and your puppets as well?”

Jin-Woo’s voice was cold as ice, his eyes glowed, and his face was smeared with blood as he stared at the half-destroyed statue, which was looking back at him with a hint of panic.

The power emanating from the young Hunter made the room tremble. The room where everything had begun—the room he could now finally return to, only to discover that the creator of his powers was also the root of all evil.

The half-destroyed statue responded, its jaw already shattered, and deep gashes marked where Jin-Woo’s daggers had struck.

“I am the architect of this system. If you were to kill me—”

“—I’d become an E-rank again?” the black-haired Hunter finished the sentence, sweat glistening on his bloodstained forehead as a manic smile spread across his lips.

“I’ve already considered that possibility… but a system that exists won’t simply collapse if its creator vanishes, will it?” His grin widened, and the statue realized what that meant.

By the time its own system denied it access, its fate was sealed.

“I used to think I had no choice but to follow the system, that I’d become nothing more than an avatar, bend to its will” Jin-Woo whispered, tightening his grip on his blades. The glowing aura around him and the second heart he just got beating in his chest quickened his movements—each beat releasing more mana.

“I’ll just devour the entire system,” he declared, preparing to strike. But then the Architect said something that froze him mid-attack.

“̴H̵a̵v̷e̶ ̵y̴o̵u̴ ̷n̶e̷ver̷ wo̵n̴de̷r̴e̶d̶ ̶w̷h̶e̵re̴ ̷s̴he̷ d̷i̵s̶a̴p̷p̶e̵a̵r̵e̵d̵ ̵t̵o̷?̵”̴

The Voice began to tremble, static and flickering – like a broken TV.

The Shadow Monarch’s eyes remained unchanging, and he kept the statue in his sights. Was this a dirty trick? Was it trying to exploit his only weakness—you?

The Architect’s tone shifted as he noticed the young Hunter’s hesitation. He had struck a nerve. Not even a second heart could fill the gaping hole in his chest that you had left behind. But the thought of what the system might have done to you made uncontrollable rage boil within him.

He’s just playing with you, Jin-Woo. Don’t listen to him.

Your voice was loud and clear in his head—or at least the voice he still remembered.

Maybe he had a screw loose, or he was completely losing his mind, but after some time of your absence, your voice began appearing more and more clear in his mind. Especially in situations that were inherently dangerous, when adrenaline coursed through his veins. It wasn’t real – he knew that too well, but it was enough to give him strength.

Suddenly, it all made sense—the reason why he couldn’t find you anywhere, not even a single clue about your whereabouts, no matter how long and intensely he searched. Who could let you disappear, if not the System itself?

As he followed this train of thought, a massive knot formed in his stomach. The mere idea that he might have done something terrible to you—who knows what—was enough to drive him to the brink of madness.

His grip on the dagger tightened, the weapon creaking under the sheer force of its wielder. His entire body burned.

“What have you done?”

His voice trembled with fury—a rage that sent fear coursing through his shadows.

A rage with the potential to turn this dungeon—no, the entire city or even the world, to ashes.

And he likely would if it meant avenging you.

A deep laugh filled his ears as the battered statue laughed.

"That's the funniest part of all this, I didn't have to do anything", its voice was smug, less panicked. Now, he had enough time to do what should prevent his death.

What did he mean by that?

"You did this for me" the architect added. Jin Woo felt a sharp pang in his heart at the thought that he was responsible for what had happened to you. If only he had looked after you better…

"She left on her own."

The wounds inside him, which he had sporadically patched up, ripped open again at the thought.

He didn’t want to believe it—couldn’t believe it. Not coming from the mouth of this monster, yet his words ate their way into his mind.

His voice distorted, as though there was interference, but the grin on the stone shell didn’t fade—in fact, it grew wider.

The black-haired man didn’t want to listen any longer and prepared to attack, but a voice—your voice—stopped him. So clear and distinct, as if you were right beside him. And then he saw you out of the corner of his eye.

“Jin-Woo?” you asked softly, almost hesitantly. Your [E/C] eyes shone. This time – your Voice rang crystal clear in his ears, as if you were just beside him. It felt too real. His whole body reacted to your voice, a shiver ran down his spine.

His mistake: he turned his gaze away, just to finally see you again.

The world stood still for a second as he looked at you, his mouth opening to say something, anything—but by then, it was already too late.

The stone spear of the statue pierced his stomach, sending waves of pain through his entire body.

Blood gushed from his mouth, his eyes wide in shock. He had… fallen for it.

He saw his HP plummet drastically, his vision blurred, and his strength drained away.

Was this the end? Would he die here?

The sharp scream of his name that came out of Hae-In’s mouth, who stood with the other S-Rank hunters not far from the battle, didn’t reach him.

Everything around him grew dark, his eyes fluttered, and he shut out all the sounds surrounding him—only your image remained.

He was tired, so unbearably tired. He didn’t want to continue; it was all too much. And knowing he would never see you again shattered the last bit of resolve that had driven him forward.

What reason did he have to keep suffering? He might as well succumb to the darkness and finally let his soul rest. Stop fighting, at last.

This feeling… death reaching for him, pulling him to the other side.

Was the Double Dungeon truly to be his eternal resting place after all, despite escaping it the first time? How ironic.

“It’s okay” your voice gently reached his ears.

Could he finally be happy with you if he gave in?

He exhaled one last time and closed his eyes.

Peace, at last.

“You’ve fought enough; you can let go” you said softly, and he felt the warmth of your hands cupping his cheeks.

When he opened his eyes, the Double Dungeon was gone—everything around him was white, and he gazed into your beautiful [E/C] eyes, your face framed with a soft smile on your lips.

Was this an illusion? A figment of his imagination to ease his passing?

“You can let go, Jin-Woo” you said calmly, your lips mere inches from his.

But just before you could unite your lips with his, something dawned on him, something that reignited life in his limbs.

“N…” he began, but only a raspy sound escaped on his first attempt.

“Hmm?” you asked.

“Ne…ver…” Jin-Woo made a second attempt.

“Never” he finally croaked, and your eyes widened.

“[Y/N] would never say something like that”, he declared, his numb limbs moving again.

You had always cheered him on, stood by his side, and motivated him to keep going, even when he didn’t want to. You had taken his hand and encouraged him to surpass himself, to never give up.

“When you’re backed into a wall, tear the damn thing down”, you had told him after you’d both barely survived Cerberus, when the situation seemed hopeless—but you had pushed through and pulled him along.

The illusion began to crumble around him, and the soft smile of your mirage twisted into a knowing, satisfied grin. As if Death himself was satisfied with his own Defeat, almost proud of Jin Woo’s resistance.

Jin-Woo straightened up, his hands instinctively gripping the spear in his stomach. The light disappeared, along with your form, and his eyes snapped open. Life flooded his body, and the second heart in his chest pumped even more pulsating mana through his veins as he pulled out the Speer, blood dripping down to his feet.

The triumphant grin of the statue shifted to pure horror at the sight of him getting back in action, after it had already claimed its victory.

“You really don’t know her if you think she’d ever say something like that”, Jin-Woo said as he spat the blood from his mouth, the metallic taste still lingering on his tongue.

In a flash, he sprinted forward and cleaved the statue’s face, its terrified eyes staring at him. It was over.

“Apparently…” the statue began to speak, its voice growing quieter toward the end, but its horrified expression turned into one of satisfaction��a faint grin.

What now? Had he underestimated something?

No, Jin-Woo could feel the presence of the Architect fading—it was clear, its mana dwindling. And yet, the creature acted as though it had won.

“I’ll leave her a message from you,” were the monster’s final words, spoken with just enough strength for a wide grin, before its presence faded.

Jin-Woo’s eyes widened at the words. No—this couldn’t—.

He reached out. No way would he let this monster go wherever you were, no matter where that might be.

When his hand finally felt something warm, he gripped it as tightly as he could and felt his body being pulled along.

A blinding light forced him to shut his eyes, a wave of energy surging toward him so intensely that he could only grip tightly onto whatever threatened to slip from his grasp. Suddenly, the ground beneath him vanished, leaving him weightless in the embrace of a strange warmth.

The warmth seeped into his wounds, and the pain vanished instantly.

For the first time in months, the crushing weight on his chest lifted, and he could breathe freely. It was a sensation he hadn’t felt since your absence.

The warmth enveloped him, soothing his battered soul like a gentle, healing touch. For a fleeting moment, everything felt right. But then, just as quickly, the feeling disappeared. The light receded, the emptiness returned, and the electric hum of mana that usually coursed through his veins was gone.

His feet hit cold concrete, dizziness overtaking him as his back slammed against the ground. The impact forced the air from his lungs, leaving him gasping as he lay motionless. The screech of tires pierced the air, snapping his head upward—only to be blinded by a pair of glaring headlights.

Jin Woo flinched, squeezing his eyes shut as he instinctively raised a hand to shield himself. Confusion flooded his mind; the abrupt change of scenery and his sluggish reflexes left him utterly perplexed.

Moments later, the car door creaked open, and a voice rang out—both alarmed and irritated.

"You can’t just run out into the road like that, man! What’s wrong with you?!"

His head whipped toward the source of the voice as a figure stepped into view. Worry flickered in the stranger's lavender-colored eyes as he crouched down to examine Jin Woo, who looked thoroughly disoriented.

"Are you hurt?’’, the man asked, his initial anger giving way to concern, likely born of the shock.

For a moment, Jin Woo didn’t answer, his breathing uneven as he tried to process his surroundings, before Jin-Woo crouched back.

But his movements were… slow. Far too slow. What was going on?

It felt as though he had no Mana left at all.

He immediately glanced down at his body, only to find the gaping wound in his stomach gone, along with the blood on his clothes—and even his shirt was no longer completely shredded.

It felt as though all the Mana in his body had vanished. An icy wave of panic clawed its way through him.

"Beru?!" Jin Woo called out; his voice edged with urgency. He expected a response, a reassuring presence—but there was nothing. Silence pressed in around him. He was truly alone.

Instead, the stranger in front of him gave him a puzzled look, clearly unsure who—or what—Jin Woo was calling for.

The man had striking lavender eyes and stark white hair, the contrast making his features all the more vivid. Jin Woo’s gaze lingered on him for a second too long before snapping away.

"I'm fine," Jin Woo replied curtly, though the sharp edge in his tone was undermined by his obvious disorientation.

The stranger raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. And who could blame him? Jin Woo looked far from "fine," his body tense and his expression filled with panic.

"Are you sure?" the stranger pressed, leaning in slightly, his tone gentler now.

Jin Woo let out a defeated sigh. He couldn’t afford to waste time arguing, not when something was clearly wrong. He swallowed hard before asking, his voice quieter than before:

"Where are we?"

-‘๑’-

A Year

It had been a year.

Exactly one year since you had returned home and turned your back on the world of Hunters.

A year spent trying to move forward, even though your heart had shattered into a thousand pieces.

A year filled with bitter truths—because you no longer had a place to return to.

It became painfully clear that no one remembered you—not your parents, not your friends. As if you had never existed.

But that pain was nothing compared to the emptiness you felt when you realized your decision was final.

The moment your mind caught up with what you had done, you had screamed. You had cried out prayers to gods you didn’t believe in, slammed your fists against the ground in desperation, hoping your pleas would be heard—that the System would reappear.

But it had all been in vain.

By leaving his world, you had also left behind your abilities as a Hunter—or a Player.

All that remained were memories and the emptiness in your heart, proof that you had ever been part of that world—that his warmth, his fingers intertwined with yours, the joy in your heart when he laughed—it had all been real.

Eventually, after weeks of unbearable pain, you managed to pull yourself back together.

You pushed the dark thoughts aside and tried for a fresh start.

You got a job, found an affordable place to live, and finally felt like you had regained a sliver of control over your life. Things were getting better—just a little. But every now and then, the memories caught up with you. The questions crept in: How was he doing? Were he and Hae-In happy now, while you were still mourning someone who was never truly yours?

And today, on your "anniversary," the weight of those memories was especially crushing.

You flinched as something cold brushed against your cheek, snapping you back to reality.

The dull music that had filled your ears became sharp and clear again.

Your head jerked to the side, where a glass filled with dark brown liquid hovered inches from your face. Behind it was the concerned face of your best—and only—friend, as well as your roommate: Nika.

Her lavender-colored eyes studied you with a mixture of worry and exasperation.

“You’ve got that look again,” she said, her voice loud and direct as she slid onto the barstool next to you.

“What look?” you asked, taking the glass from her hand. The amber liquid inside swirled lazily as you turned it in your hand.

“The ‘I don’t belong here, someone save me’ look,” she replied with a faint smirk, taking a deep sip of her own drink.

“What are you thinking about this time?” she asked, setting her glass down on the counter with a dull thud.

You knew you couldn’t tell her the truth. She was aware of your heartbreak—though you had spared her the details—but she hated it when you wasted even a single thought on him.

After all, it was Nika who had painstakingly put you back together, who had offered you a place to stay after you confessed you’d been sleeping in a rundown motel.

You had been nothing more than coworkers, yet she had taken you in.

She had seen through your sadness, the pain you carried with you—the nightmares that haunted you, the lack of sleep, and how little you left the apartment. Eventually, she’d had enough and confronted you, practically dragging you out of the house.

At first, you resisted, but the sobering realization that you could now drink yourself into oblivion again since your hunters’ powers were gone, had quickly changed your mind. So much so that even Nika occasionally worried about your drinking habits.

Apparently, your “it’s nothing” had taken too long, because her piercing gaze told you she wasn’t buying it.

“You can’t be serious,” she said, letting out a heavy sigh—as though your pain were her own. You understood why. In moments like this, you felt so small again, like you’d made no progress, like the pain had never truly gone away and happiness was something you’d never feel again.

“I’m sorry, it’s just… it’s been a year now. The melancholy kind of sneaks up on you,” you admitted, offering her an apologetic smile.

“I get it—you loved him, yada yada. But life moves on. We’re young. We’re hot. He didn’t deserve you anyway. I mean, look at you.”

Her voice brimmed with confidence, the complete opposite of your own. She was strong, self-assured—a little reckless, sometimes abrasive, but her heart was always in the right place.

Her enthusiasm was infectious, and despite yourself, you couldn’t help but laugh.

“It’s time you finally realize what you’re worth. I mean, guys hit on you all the time. Grab one and have some fun. Or reject them—that’s fun too,” she said with a playful grin before downing the rest of her drink in one gulp.

Then she grabbed your hand.

“Come on, we’re going dancing,” she declared, pulling you off the stool.

“Wait,” you protested, but she shot you a knowing look.

Her grin widened as you downed your own drink in one go, relishing the burning sensation before letting her drag you to the dance floor.

Maybe she was right. At some point, you had to let go. Jin Woo was your past, a closed chapter in your story.

Maybe it was time to try something new.

-‘๑’-

You felt the cold wall against your back as two strong hands gently but firmly pushed you backward, and you instinctively wrapped your hands around his neck.

Perhaps you had followed Nika’s advice and gotten involved with something… or rather someone, whose hands were now sliding under your black dress, leaving a warm tingling on your skin. Whether it was the alcohol this time, or if you simply wanted to prove to yourself that you were finally over Jin-Woo – you had no idea. But his hands on your skin made you feel desired again, something you hadn’t felt in a long time. Even if it was just a quick fling, right here in this moment, it felt good, even though the icy cold grazed your bare skin because you had left your jacket in the coat check.

His warm breath brushed against your neck, and you could clearly feel how your body wanted to give in.

At least, until the moment when his lips were only a few centimeters away from yours, and you wanted to close your eyes.You jolted upright as a familiar feeling coursed through your body, snapping your attention away. Your head whipped to the side, toward the source of the aura.

It couldn’t be—it was impossible.

And yet, you had felt it.

Mana. Nearby.

There was no mistaking it. That distinct surge of a mana stream—something you thought you’d never feel again.

That spark was enough to reignite something within you, something you had thought long dead.

Hope.

Hope that you might see him again. That you could apologize. Say all the things you’d never allowed yourself to say. Could it really be?

“Are you okay?”

The black-haired man in front of you had stopped immediately, concern in his striking green eyes.

You stared at him, unable to form a coherent thought as the sensation consumed you, blotting out everything else for a fleeting moment.

“I’m sorry, I…” you began, disentangling yourself from him, unable to meet his gaze.

You didn’t owe him anything—not really—but you wouldn’t have let this happen if you’d known it would end like this.

He was probably angry—disappointed at the very least. Bracing yourself for the worst, you were surprised when no harsh words came.

Instead, he simply nodded, understanding in his eyes, and stepped back, releasing you.

“It’s okay. You don’t need to explain,” he said gently, his green eyes following you as you began to turn away.

“Thank you,” you whispered before rushing off in the direction of the mana stream.

The sky above was clear, dotted with stars. It was late December, and the temperature had plummeted below freezing.

Your lungs burned, and the cold lashed at your exposed skin, but you didn’t slow down. You couldn’t risk losing this chance, couldn’t make the same mistake again.

Tears welled in your eyes as Jin-Woo’s face filled your mind—his warm smile, the one that had always sent butterflies through your stomach.

No. You wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

You rounded a corner into a dark alley and came to an abrupt halt, gasping for breath. Your exhalations formed small clouds in the freezing air as your heart pounded like a drum in your chest. Blood rushed through your veins as you scanned the shadows ahead.

You barely noticed the biting cold. Your eyes were locked on the figure hidden in the darkness.

For a moment, you bent over, bracing your hands on your thighs as you caught your breath.

-‘๑’-

“What do you mean, she’s gone?!”

The white-haired man’s voice rang out sharply over the car’s speakerphone, his focus fixed on the road ahead.

The voice on the other end was trembling, frantic.

“I—I don’t know. Oh god, it’s my fault. I told her she should—”

“Calm down. It’s not your fault,” Hide interrupted, his voice steady but his body tense. Jin-Woo, sitting in the passenger seat, could clearly see the strain in the way Hide gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles whitening, his eyes darting nervously. Still, his voice remained calm—for his sister’s sake.

“Take a deep breath, Nika. I’m coming to pick you up, okay? We’ll find her. I promise,” Hide said reassuringly.

A small, muffled sound of agreement came from the other end of the line before the call ended. Hide exhaled heavily, running a hand over his forehead.

Jin-Woo had been staring out the window in silence, his thoughts a tangled mess, his gaze fixed on the blur of passing buildings.

He was still in Seoul, but something was wrong. He had no connection to his Shadows, no access to his abilities. The System had gone silent, leaving an ominous knot in his stomach. He felt weaker than he ever had before—even weaker than when he was an E-Rank.

Had he made a mistake?

The white-haired man—Hide—was the one who had almost run him over. Out of guilt, he had insisted on giving Jin-Woo a ride so he wouldn’t have to walk all the way home. But their route had taken an unexpected detour when Hide received the call.

“I need to make a quick stop. I hope that’s okay,” Hide said apologetically, glancing over at Jin-Woo.

“It’s fine,” Jin-Woo replied quietly, his eyes still fixed on the dark street ahead.

Hide wasn’t much of a talker, which Jin-Woo appreciated. But now, perhaps sensing the tension, maybe it was time to break the Silence.

“Mind if I ask what’s going on?” Jin-Woo asked, his gaze finally shifting to the driver.

Hide leaned back slightly in his seat, rubbing his forehead with the back of his hand. A half-hearted chuckle escaped his lips.

“My sister and her friend went out. Apparently, they got separated. Probably nothing serious,” he replied, stepping harder on the gas.

Jin-Woo nodded slightly. That sounded exhausting. Thank goodness Jinha wasn’t into partying—it would’ve been a headache he didn’t need.

By breaking several traffic laws, the white-haired man managed to get them to their destination quickly.

Hide slammed on the brakes and parked the car by the roadside when he spotted his sister.

She stood at the entrance of the club, neon signs casting colorful reflections on the ground. A cigarette dangled between her lips, and she held [Y/N]’s jacket in her arms—retrieved from the coat check.

Her eyes darted nervously, scanning her surroundings. The moment she saw her twin brother’s car, she ran toward it as Hide stepped out.

Jin-Woo watched the scene unfold through the side window, clearly hearing their exchange thanks to the slightly ajar driver’s door.

Hide placed his hands on his sister’s shoulders, speaking to her in a calm, soothing tone. The resemblance between the two was striking—save for their height and gender, they were unmistakably twins.

“Take it easy. Start by telling me what happened,” Hide said, his voice steady. His sister stumbled over her words as she tried to explain.

“She was so down again, so I told her to relax and have some fun. I should’ve kept a closer eye on her, but the guy seemed so nice…” she trailed off, the glowing cigarette in her hand entirely forgotten.

Jin-Woo, sitting silently in the car, wondered what kind of strange drama he’d stumbled into. His musings were interrupted when the white-haired girl suddenly bolted.

A young, black-haired man had just exited the club, and she charged toward him.

“You! Tell me where she is!” she demanded, her tone sharp as she nearly leaped at him. The startled man raised his hands defensively.

“Whoa, take it easy,” he said, taking a step back. Before she could get closer, Hide intervened, holding her back.

“Calm down, Nika,” he said, though she fought against his grip.

“That’s the guy! He went outside with [Y/N]!” she exclaimed.

Jin-Woo’s eyes widened at the sound of your name. A sharp, unbearable ache tore through his chest as vivid memories of you filled his mind. Your radiant [E/C] eyes, your angelic smile—the one he had loved so deeply.

Your voice echoed in his head, louder and more persistent the longer you were gone. How many times had he thrown himself into battles, eschewing his shadows, because your silhouette seemed to appear in his mind when adrenaline coursed through him? You had given him strength, even in your absence.

Regret burned through him—leaving you, failing to reach out, being so selfish.

No. It couldn’t be you. He convinced himself it was just someone with the same name.

But his fragile hope shattered when the black-haired man responded to a question Jin-Woo hadn’t caught:

“Oh… You mean the little one? [H/C] hair, [E/C] eyes?”

Without thinking, Jin-Woo’s hand shot to the door handle, and he stepped out.

Hide noticed Jin-Woo from the corner of his eye, his head slightly lowered. Despite his calm demeanor, his posture was tense.

“Where is she?” Jin-Woo’s voice cut through the air like icy arrows, forcing the dark-haired man to turn his attention away from the white-haired woman beside him. She, too, turned to look at Jin-Woo.

“Who are you?” The dark-haired man’s green eyes darted to Jin-Woo, who immediately grabbed him by the collar, yanking him forward.

“Tell me where she is,” Jin-Woo demanded, his voice carrying the weight of his former power as the Shadow Monarch, as though he could crush the man in an instant.

“Hey—calm down,” Hide said, startled by the sudden shift in Jin-Woo’s demeanor. But Jin-Woo ignored him completely.

“Whoa, take it easy! I didn’t do anything to her,” the man stammered, raising his hands to show he had no intention of fighting.

“We just... messed around a little. I didn’t know she had a boyfriend,” he added, apologetically misreading the situation.

Jin-Woo’s eyes widened at his words. Pain pierced his chest at the mere thought of you having any sort of involvement with this man. Anger flared at the idea of him even touching you.

“Besides,” the man continued, “she blew me off before anything serious happened. She ran off like she’d been chased”

The dark-haired man was about Jin-Woo’s height and likely much stronger. A fight without Jin-Woo’s powers would not end in his favor. The only reason the situation hadn’t escalated was the stranger’s defensive stance.

For a brief moment, Jin-Woo’s grip on the man’s collar tightened, his gaze piercing. But the sincerity in the man’s voice was evident, so Jin-Woo reluctantly let go.

“Who the hell even ARE you?!” the white-haired woman snapped, her lavender eyes burning with intensity. She had just been released by her brother and now glared at Jin-Woo.

When Jin-Woo looked at her, realization struck within her. His Appearance fitted the one [Y/N] gave her.

“YOU!” she spat, pointing an accusatory finger mere inches from his face.

“Do you even know how much you hurt her? How much she suffered because of you?!” Her voice trembled with fury as she threw the rhetorical question at him. She wasn’t waiting for an answer; her anger didn’t need one.

“How dare you show up here after a whole year?!”

Jin-Woo held her gaze, unflinching, but for the first time in a long while, he felt powerless. It wasn’t just his lack of strength – no, her rage overwhelmed him, her emotions exposing just how much you meant to her.

He stared at her coolly, but her words cut through him like a thousand tiny knives. What had he done? What on earth had happened?

The thought of how you must have felt had already cost him countless sleepless nights. But now, faced with the real consequences of his neglect and selfishness, it hit him harder than ever before.

Suddenly, the Architect’s words made sense – how he had said you’d left willingly.

Jin-Woo froze. His stomach churned, a dreadful feeling settling deep within him.

He had followed the Architect’s trail to stop him, but by the time he arrived, the Architect was gone – and now, so were you. It couldn’t be a coincidence. He had to find you before he did.

The guilt and regret eating away at him wouldn’t ease as long as he knew you were safe. But the guilt he’d feel if something happened to you? That would destroy him.

He took a sharp breath, shoving aside the rising panic that crept into his entirely human body.

“Stay out of this. I’ll find her,” he said, turning to leave. But a rough grip stopped him mid-step.

“Wait!” the white-haired woman barked. Her voice was firm, but she let go of his coat as soon as he turned toward the direction the dark-haired man had pointed out.

Jin-Woo tuned out her loud protests, vanishing into the streets. His steps quickened.

At least his physical conditioning hadn’t failed him. Mana or not, his rigorous training paid off.

He sprinted through the dark streets, his breath forming clouds in the icy air as his sharp eyes scanned his surroundings. It was 2 a.m., and the streets were deserted. The dark night sky stretched endlessly above the city, stars visible despite the light pollution. But Jin-Woo didn’t notice.

His heart pounded wildly in his chest, his palms sweaty. With every passing minute, the panic threatening to overwhelm him transformed into fear, clouding his rational thoughts. He couldn’t think straight at the idea of something happening to you

You were strong – he knew that. He’d fought beside you. But in this world, where neither of you seemed to have powers, and with no knowledge of your current condition, anything could happen.

And it would all be his fault. He could live with he blame that he left you – that he hurted your feelings. But he would never be able to forgive himself if something happened to you.

He froze when he heard a muffled scream and felt a brief flicker of mana. His head snapped toward the source, and he pivoted on his heel, his body instinctively going on high alert.

“Please, just hold on a little longer, [Y/N],” he muttered, his feet carrying him in the direction of the mana surge.

-‘๑’-

Breathless, you stared at the shadowy figure stepping out of the darkness.

Could it really be him?

“Jin-Woo?” you whispered, your hoarse voice barely audible.

But your hopes shattered when a tall figure stepped into the dim streetlight.

It was a man, perhaps in his early to mid-thirties. His hair gleamed a fiery orange, and his dark red eyes sent a shiver down your spine.

Your hand instinctively clutched your aching chest, the old wounds flaring at the realization that it wasn’t Jin-Woo.

How foolish you felt – incredibly foolish. You’d run here as fast as you could, all because of a feeling. A naive hope.

A hope that the unrealistic scenario you’d played out in your head thousands of times might actually come true.

That you’d get your happy ending – or at least the chance to explain yourself, to cast off the burden of guilt and regret weighing on your shoulders.

Why had you been so unbelievably stupid? Hadn’t you learned anything? Who else but you would be foolish enough to run through the streets in the middle of the night, dressed lightly, with no phone – all because of a feeling?

Your body trembled, the cold raising goosebumps on your skin. You swallowed back your tears, lowering your head.

It suddenly felt like every ounce of strength had drained from your body.

,,Disappointed?’’, the voice rang into your ear.

"Uh... uhm, sorry. I was expecting someone else," you said, feeling a little embarrassed as the stranger approached you with slow, deliberate steps. But...

You looked at him, and the smile on his lips sent a shiver down your spine. Who was he?

Something about his presence felt familiar, yet you couldn't sense any Mana from him. Still, you were certain he had been the source, he seemed... out of place, almost inhuman.

"Oh, don’t tell me you don’t recognize me?" he asked with feigned surprise, glancing down at himself as though he were just now noticing his appearance. His hands reached for a strand of his orange hair, which he stroked thoughtfully with his thumb.

"Fascinating. I didn’t expect to get such a realistic body," he said, his red eyes locking onto yours again.

Your confusion seemed to amuse him. What was he talking about?

"Come on, [Y/N], use that little brain of yours," he laughed, his steps slow and deliberate as his red eyes gleamed at you challenging.

No matter how hard you thought, you couldn’t make any connection. He knew your Name…

He was now standing in front of you, looking down with that same unsettling smile.

Clearly, he had grown tired of waiting. His red eyes sparkled, and his voice distorted as he spoke:

"Do you really want to leave the game? Yes or no?" he asked playfully.

Your eyes widened in pure shock at his words, at the distortion in his voice—it sounded exactly like...

"The Architect?"

Your voice trembled as you voiced the thought aloud. That couldn’t be.

The sheer shock on your face seemed to excite him. He relished every ounce of your fear and disbelief.

"Bingo!!! But you can call me by my real name. I think it’s only fair, given your naive foolishness saved my life. Thanks for that, by the way," he said casually, his voice dripping with mockery as you stared at him, dumbfounded, unable to process his words.

This couldn’t—mustn’t—be true. Kandiaru, the Architect of the System—the one Jin-Woo had eliminated after Ashborn denied him access to the System. How in the world had he ended up in your world? Did this mean Jin-Woo had lost? How had the timeline gone so awry when you’d gone to such lengths to prevent exactly that? You didn’t even want to imagine what this meant for Jin-Woo.

"How—" you began, but he cut you off immediately.

"Oh, do you think it was just a coincidence that you ended up in our world?" he asked with a smirk, disdain evident in his voice.

"I needed someone knowledgeable—but not too knowledgeable. And your disgustingly kind heart? That was just the icing on the cake," he said, his fingers gripping your chin and tilting your head up, forcing you to look at him.

"Through your world, I saw my future and devised a Plan B to ensure I’d survive."

Slowly but surely, his facade of calm began to crack. His piercing gaze and the unhinged grin spreading across his face triggered every instinct in you to flee.

The alcohol clouded your thoughts, but even in this state, you felt a shiver run down your spine—a strong sense of danger.

You needed to run. Now. But your body wouldn’t move.

"It was only a matter of time before your love for him forced you to make a choice. After all, there’s no future for you and him," he continued as you stood there, helpless to do anything but listen.

"And with that, you weakened him—severely. Longing is such an ugly emotion, isn’t it?" he whispered, pulling your face closer to his. His grip was unyielding, and any resistance you managed was useless.

The gears in your head began to turn. He had... used you from the very beginning? Known all along that you’d return with a broken heart, leaving Jin-Woo vulnerable?

No, he hadn’t just known—he’d banked on it. He had meticulously planned everything, using you as a pawn for his own survival.

"If it were up to me, I’d have handled things differently, but it was hard enough keeping my intentions hidden from Ashborn. Truly tedious," he muttered, clearly irritated at the thought of the Shadow Monarch, who had tasked him with finding a suitable human.

"But no matter. I can just as easily plunge your world into chaos," he laughed, gazing up at the dark night sky—until your hand gripped his wrist, pulling at his sleeve.

His laughter stopped abruptly as his eyes darted down to you, his head tilting to the side.

"Hmm?" he asked, amused by your defiance.

Your actions were no longer rational, driven instead by a simmering rage. Deep within, it boiled and churned. All the pain and effort... for nothing?

"Oh no, did I make you angry?" he taunted, mockery lacing his words.

"You’re a filthy bastard," you spat, your [E/C] eyes glaring fiercely at him. You couldn’t hold back anymore.

For a brief moment, Kandiaru looked surprised before bursting into laughter.

"Oh, oh, such harsh words from such a pretty mouth."

He leaned down, his hot breath brushing against your face as his fingers dug painfully into your chin. His eyes roamed over your form, taking in your exposed skin and the black dress that hugged your curves.

"I can see what he sees in you," he said with a wicked grin.

That was the last straw. Without thinking, you swung at him. Your fist collided with his open palm as he released your chin to block your weak punch.

He gripped your hand tightly, the pressure forcing your fingers to ache as you let out a pained gasp and dropped to your knees.

"Know your place, human. The only reason you were ever strong was because of my power—but here, you’re nothing. Just another insignificant human among many."

The playful tone in his voice vanished as if a switch had been flipped. His gaze turned icy, his voice cold as he looked down at you.

Your bare knees scraped against the rough asphalt. He eased the pressure slightly—enough to avoid breaking your fingers—but his words burned themselves into your mind.

He was right. You had no real power, no special abilities. You were just a human. A powerless, ordinary human.

He let go of you, obviously not wanting to deal with you any longer. As he turned his back to you, every fiber of your being screamed at you to stop him—no matter how.

“Wait,” your voice trembled slightly as you got back on your feet, the cool night wind brushing against your bare legs.

He sighed, clearly annoyed by your persistence, but turned his head slightly in your direction. “What now?” he asked gruffly, throwing you a sidelong glance.

“What… happened to Jin Woo?” you asked then. You had to know—had to know if he was okay. He couldn’t have lost to him. That just couldn’t be true.

The Architect paused for a moment, as if thinking. Then, a smile returned to his lips. He could tell you anything, and you would believe him.

“Oh, right. I should pass on his last words,” he said, his voice growing quieter.

“Although… he never got the chance to say them.”

Click.

His words flipped a switch in you. Overwhelmed with anger, you charged at him. Every part of your body wanted to tear him apart, even though you knew you didn’t stand a chance.

With a loud scream, you stormed toward him, your hands clenched into fists—your body tense.

“Oh, man,” Kandiaru muttered, rolling his eyes as he lazily prepared to block your feeble attack. But to both his and your surprise, your punch carried far more weight than the last one.

So much so that he stumbled back a step, staring at you in confusion.

It was nothing compared to your former strength, but the fury and adrenaline gave you power. And apparently, his body wasn’t as strong as the one he had in his own world.

“You’re really starting to get on my nerves,” the Architect growled, his expression darkening with irritation. He was slowly but surely losing his composure.

“I really hoped I wouldn’t have to kill you,” he sighed, reaching behind him.

A shimmering dagger appeared, its blade catching the light of the streetlamp as he moved.

Your eyes widened at the sight—it bore a resemblance to Baruka’s dagger, but this one was deep red.

“That’s enough,” he said, and in an instant, the weapon in his hand began to pulsate. The mana flowing from it was the same as the one that had drawn you here in the first place—but now, it was far stronger.

He didn’t give you time to think. He lunged at you.

Unlike his strength, his speed wasn’t inhuman, which allowed you to dodge his strike.

The blade grazed your cheek, and your back hit a wall painfully as you tried to evade.

His crimson eyes locked onto you, the grin returning to his face as he saw the fear in your eyes.

Your heart pounded wildly in your chest, terror flooding your body as you stumbled to the side. The dagger embedded itself into the wall where your head had just been.

He really intended to kill you—out here, in the open!

Blood trickled down your cheek as you broke into a sprint, his footsteps echoing right behind you.

“Come on, [Y/N], don’t make this harder than it has to be,” his manic voice called out from behind, steadily catching up.

Your legs grew heavy as you ran through the alleys, panic gripping your throat. Was there really no one around? No one to help?

The fear was suffocating. The walls to your left and right hemmed you in—you had no choice but to keep running straight.

But his steps drew closer, and when he caught up to you, you saw the dagger flash toward you from the corner of your eye.

Your life flashed before your eyes—the last image in your mind was that of the black-haired Hunter.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered faintly as your foot twisted, causing you to lose balance.

Resigned to your fate, you were weightless for a brief moment—only a fraction of a second. You squeezed your eyes shut, bracing for the pain.

But the pain never came.

Instead, your body collided with something hard and warm.

An arm wrapped around your waist, pressing you tightly against the warm figure in front of you.

Your cheek rested against soft fabric, beneath which a warm body rose and fell with irregular breaths.

“Get your hands off her.”

Your entire body reacted to the voice. The chest you were pressed against vibrated as he spoke, and your eyes flew open.

Tears welled up in your eyes, darting upward.

The familiar scent filled your nose, the warmth spreading through your chilled body instantly.

It was him.

You wanted to look at him, to confirm that he wasn’t an illusion—but he held you firmly in place.

Warm blood ran down his arm, dripping onto the ground beneath him. The sharp pain coursed through his entire arm, but it was nothing compared to the relief he felt as he held your body against his. The warmth that flooded him as he inhaled your scent. His body had longed for this for so long. The deep hole in his chest stopped aching.

Kandiaru didn’t hesitate for a second. He pulled the dagger free and jumped back several steps,

“How did you—?” Kandiaru began, disbelief laced in his voice.

Jin Woo, however, simply glared at him darkly, his eyes narrowed to slits and his arms protectively wrapped around you. Not for a second did he let any weakness show, despite his lack of abilities.

Only when the orange-haired man retreated slightly did Jin Woo turn his half-focused attention to you.

“Are you alright?”

The tone of his voice, directed at you, was gentle and warm. You had almost forgotten how it felt when he spoke to you like that.

You pulled away slightly to look at him, your [E/C] eyes brimming with tears.

He hadn’t changed a bit—only his eyes hinted at the deep sorrow and suffering your disappearance had caused.

In contrast, you had changed a lot. You had lost weight, your cheekbones were more pronounced, and the dark circles under your eyes spoke volumes Jin Woo didn’t need to read to see that you hadn’t fared any better than he had.

So many sleepless nights, so much unnecessary pain, so much longing and desire that had haunted you both equally.

His hands now rested on your shoulders, and you noticed the blood on his arm. Worry surged through you, but the gentle pressure he applied—wordlessly telling you it was okay—brought your attention back to his face.

All at once, everything came rushing back—all the words you had never been able to say.

“Jin Woo, I—”

You wanted to beg for his forgiveness, to tell him how terribly you had behaved and how foolish you had been.

The black-haired man interrupted you with his index finger pressed gently to your lips, silencing you softly. His lips curved into a faint smile.

His eyes told you everything you needed to know in that moment. Even after all this time, you still understood him without words.

A hot tear rolled down your cheek, dampening it before dripping off your chin. You nodded in understanding.

It could wait. For now, the most important thing was getting both of you out of here in one piece.

The Architect, meanwhile, had quickly recovered after realizing that Jin Woo no longer radiated any mana. In this world, he was weaker than even an E-Rank.

“Jin-Woo Sung,” Kandiaru called, his eyes flickering with pure murderous intent as he lunged forward, dagger in hand, its blade pulsating.

“It’s my pleasure to cut you to pieces,” he laughed as he charged at you both.

Jin Woo tensed and pushed you behind him, ready to somehow fend off the attack. His reflexes might no longer be those of an S-Rank Hunter, but he still had close combat experience and enough muscle strength.

The energy radiating from the blade was palpable in the air—electrifying and oppressive.

Everything happened so fast, you had no time to react. The black-haired man shoved you aside with gentle force, pushing you out of the line of fire.

You stumbled but managed to catch yourself in time to avoid falling.

Wide-eyed with fear, you spun around.

Jin Woo had deflected the attack with a skillful move, pushing the orange-haired man’s hand upward at the right moment.

Tension gripped your body, and you sucked in a sharp breath.

Your head darted around, searching for ANYTHING that could help you.

Jin Woo could do nothing but block the Architect’s relentless attacks. Kandiaru struck with brutal force, slashing with the dagger in his other hand.

More cuts appeared on the Hunter’s skin as he was forced back. Kandiaru gave him no reprieve, and you could see sweat gleaming on Jin Woo’s forehead. His movements slowed as the fight dragged on. He couldn’t hold out much longer.

Jin Woo slammed into one of the parked cars as the Architect grabbed him by the throat and threw him. Jin Woo was hopelessly outmatched.

Blood clung to his forehead as Jin Woo’s eyes briefly flicked toward you before focusing again on the orange-haired man, whose wild grin remained as his red eyes sparkled with malice.

He struggled against the grip on his neck, which tightened, choking the air out of him as Kandiaru pressed him harder against the vehicle.

A sharp pain shot through the back of his head, and a choking sound escaped his throat as the lack of oxygen began to affect his brain. His vision blurred, and he felt the burning in his lungs.

This was it. For the third time, he was losing to this monster, but this time, it would be the last.

Kandiaru raised his weapon, holding Jin Woo firmly in place.

“It’s been a pleasure,” he laughed, ready to strike, when suddenly his grip loosened, and he was shoved to the side.

You had thrown yourself against him with all your might, sending him staggering.

Your body hit the cold asphalt hard, scraping your hands and knees as a searing pain shot through your arm. Kandiaru also met the ground—the force of your impact had hit him with full strength.

Jin Woo’s lungs filled with air again, adrenaline pumping blood through his body. Suddenly, he could see again, gasping for breath.

The dark red dagger clattered across the cold ground, sliding several meters away, but the Architect quickly scrambled to his feet and grabbed his weapon.

“You damn whore,” he growled, his psychotic grin replaced by pure rage, his focus now on you.

Jin Woo had also gotten back to his feet, his entire body aching with pain. He took a brief moment to overcome the stabbing headache.

This human body severely limited him, but his will to protect you drove him forward.

You were a good distance away from him, and with his battered body, every step felt like twenty.

You gasped in pain, your knees burning like fire and refusing to cooperate as Kandiaru set his sights on you.

Fear flooded your senses, robbing you of reason and freezing you in place as the Architect charged at you, dagger in hand, its tip glowing brightly with small bolts of lightning sparking from it.

“[Y/N]!” Jin Woo’s sharp cry reached your ears as he realized he wouldn’t make it in time to save you. His voice trembled as he stretched out his hand toward you—but it was in vain.

You didn’t even have time to scream. All you could do was reflexively close your eyes.

The faint hum of an engine barely reached your ears.

An ear-piercing screech enveloped your body, bracing itself for incoming pain—but none came.

Jin Woo stood frozen, his wide eyes trembling as his hand quivered at what had just unfolded before him.

For the moment, nothing else mattered to him except you. You were still sitting motionless on the ground.

‘’[Y/N!]’’, you didn’t react.

Without hesitation, he hobbled toward you, dropping to his knees and placing his hands on your shoulders, shaking you gently.

“[Y/N]!”

No response.

“Can you hear me?!” Jin Woo’s usually calm voice trembled with fear. Unknowingly, he held his breath.

Finally, your eyes fluttered open, and your [E/C] irises met his stormy gray ones. The tension visibly melted from his face as he let out a shaky breath. Relief washed over him like a tidal wave, but you still said nothing.

You blinked a few times, dazed and confused.

“What?” you whispered faintly, your mind struggling to process what had happened.

Jin Woo’s worried expression softened further, and without warning, he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against his chest.

“I… I thought…” His voice cracked, and whatever words he meant to say dissolved into silence. The walls he had painstakingly built around his heart during your absence crumbled entirely. His body trembled, and his embrace tightened.

Never in all the time you had known Jin Woo had you seen him so consumed by fear.

As the shock in your own body subsided, you, too, began to sob uncontrollably. Your hands clung to the fabric of his black shirt as you returned his embrace.

The two of you clung to each other like drowning souls, finding solace only in each other.

Abruptly, Jin Woo pulled back. Your tear-filled eyes questioned the sudden separation until he cupped your face with his hands and pressed his lips to yours.

Finally.

He had waited too long for this moment, envisioned countless scenarios where it might happen, and convinced himself repeatedly that it had to be perfect. But now he understood—it didn’t need to be perfect.

The moment was messy, far from ideal. You were both battered and bruised, covered in blood and sweat, adrenaline still coursing through your veins.

And yet, that kiss was the most beautiful thing Jin Woo had ever experienced.

All the longing, the yearning, and the love he had carried for you poured into that single, imperfect kiss.

Tears streamed down your face once more, but this time they were tears of joy.

It felt as though his love seeped into the cracks of your heart, slowly but surely filling every void and healing every wound.

You only broke apart when a voice disrupted the moment.

A quick exchange of glances was all you managed before both your heads turned toward the source of the sound.

“HOLY SHIT, NIKA! WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO?!” a male voice yelled as a car door swung open.

Only now did you notice the lifeless body lying on the ground, orange hair splayed in all directions.

Hide tugged at his hair, staring in wide-eyed disbelief at the unmoving figure in front of his car, then at his sister climbing out of the driver’s seat.

“Dear brother,” Nika began in a calm, angelic tone, inhaling deeply.

“DID YOU MISS THE PART WHERE HE WAS THREATENING [Y/N] WITH A FREAKING GLOWING KNIFE?!” she screamed, her tone switching to pure outrage as she glared at her brother.

“YOU CAN’T JUST MOW HIM DOWN!” Hide yelled back, utterly floored by her reckless driving and lack of judgment.

,,OF COURSE I CAN, DIDN'T YOU SEE??!'', she yelled back.

“WE’RE BOTH GOING TO JAIL! How the hell do you plan to explain this to the cops?!” he paced frantically, running his hands through his hair.

But Nika ignored his panicked questions entirely, her focus shifting as she spotted you and Jin Woo. Without hesitation, she sprinted toward you.

“[Y/N]!!!” she cried, her voice thick with emotion, throwing herself to the ground beside you and wrapping her arms tightly around your neck. Jin Woo had to shuffle aside to avoid the collision.

She clung to you desperately, sobbing uncontrollably.

“I’m so sorry,” she wept, pulling you even closer.

Your tear-filled eyes drifted to Jin Woo, who gave you a soft, knowing smile.

You felt nothing but overwhelming gratitude that everyone was safe.

-‘๑’-

“Take good care of her,” Nika said firmly, releasing you from her embrace and shooting Jin Woo a stern look.

He paused briefly, his gray eyes locking onto yours before he gave a gentle nod.

“With my life.”

A faint smile tugged at your lips as a blush crept onto your cheeks. Jin Woo’s sweetness still left you in awe, and it was hard to grasp that all this love was directed at you.

It had been a week since Jin Woo had entered your world, and now it was time to return home.

The Architect’s body had not been human; it dissolved into mana before merging with his dagger upon his death. That blade turned out to be the System, manifest in an object, and it allowed Jin Woo to create a Gate back to the Hunter world.

Explaining this to Nika and Hide had been…challenging. Even after witnessing it themselves, disbelief lingered in their expressions. Without the firsthand evidence, they might have deemed you insane.

As for destiny? The events that unfolded proved that the System’s claim of inevitability wasn’t absolute. Its deletion was imminent, and you now believed you could shape your own story.

Jin Woo, however, wasn’t leaving anything to chance.

He refused to let you out of his sight, constantly staying close and cherishing every moment together. “For all the lost time,” he would say.

Now, you both stood before the Gate Jin Woo had conjured. The Twins in front of you.

“Go on, before I start bawling,” Nika said, wiping at her teary eyes. Leaving her behind hurt, but you had to return. There was still so much left to do, so many monsters to fight.

What mattered most, however, was that you were together again.

You nodded, biting your lip to hold back tears.

“Shall we?” Jin Woo extended his hand.

Without hesitation, you intertwined your fingers with his, meeting his eyes. His reassuring squeeze grounded you.

Together, you stepped through the Gate, returning to the Hunter world.

[Welcome back, Players.]

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ! ꨄ︎ ︶꒦꒷��꒷꒦︶ Holy shit i finally did it. It took so much thinking and rewriting because i wasn't happy - there were so many things that changed during the writing process. I am not fully satisfied, but i hope you like the second part as well! :)

As i already mentioned in my last Post - there will be a few side Stories, adapting this Two Shot~

Thank you for all your support! likes, reblogs & comments or just reading <3 .'*•.¸♡ I really appreciate it <3 ♡¸.•*'

♡¸.•*' ˋ°•*⁀✎ 𝑢𝑡𝑜𝑝𝑖𝑎

@phisen @bunniotomia @mysterylilycheeta @uchihaclan27

#jin woo x reader #solo leveling x reader #fanfic #angst #solo leveling #jinwoo sung x reader #shadow monarch #one shot #jin woo sung

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jscrawls · 19 days ago

Text

Bite your lips

Neglected children don't always take their pain out on the people around them.

(one shot neglected Wayne gn! reader, has some hints of Conner Kent x reader)

❗Warning, contains mentions of an ED, child neglect, poor mental health, character death, please read with caution if any of this bothers you!❗

🔹🔹🔹

You don't know what you're doing wrong.

Two years, two. Whole. Years. You've been clawing at the chance to be involved in their lives, to be part of their tight knit family group. From the day you were led out of that car - shivering in the snow - to standing here now in the hearth. it's as if they've all forgotten you're not still standing on the stoop as a stranger.

At first you didn't want them, they were too different, too old, too not your mother. You wanted to grieve in peace, to curse out loud and scream in your pillow and draw bad pictures of that man with the gun getting beat up by Batman. But you were just a kid, you didn't know any better.

Weeks turned into months and suddenly you weren't locking yourself away and insisting you eat in your room, but it felt like the damage was already done.

That didn't mean you wanted to be alone forever! The Butler was alright, well he wasn't acting like you didn't exist anyways. He wasn't exactly going to your school plays or anything, but he took you to appointments, took you clothes shopping when you needed uniforms or outgrew something, hugged you when you told him you wanted to go home…yeah he was alright.

You were twelve when you watched Batman drag a limping Robin through the manor from the top of the steps in the showing room, you were excited, scared, confused? Why were they here? How'd the kid get injured? If they're here instead of wherever they live does that mean there's bad people nearby? That last thought nearly had you jumping down the stairs and into their field of vision, that is until you heard Alfred speak up from somewhere in the heroes path.

“Master Bruce.”

That one single sentence had your entire body locking up like a gearshift.

…. That explains a lot actually, your biological father's Batman. holy crap your dad's Batman! As soon as you'd reentered your room you'd jumped up and down like a little child, your hands shaking as you'd grabbed your Batman themed stuffed animal you'd kept under your bed it was embarrassing to have stuffies all over your room at your age, but this one had always felt special. Now you have a reason!

This is why he and the others always say they're tired! They're up at night doing crazy karate stuff! Maybe you've been putting too much expectation on them all this time, after all your father's much busier than you ever thought.

The next day school felt like it lasted an entire eternity, you just wanted to ask your dad questions! Maybe you could finally get to know the man now that you know this terribly amazing secret, you could start to integrate yourself into his life just like Jason before you. Your classes were a blur, your teachers voices melded together in your brain until they all sounded like the same monotone droning sound, you even skipped cooking club to go home early!

The house was empty by the time you trudged up the long winding driveway, panting slightly in the soupy humidity that still lingers despite it being well into autumn. Only one thing was on your young mind though, as you hurriedly fished your keys out and dashed in as soon as the door was cracked, your hip catching a corner of a display table. Even the bruise forming in your side didn't damper your excitement as you ran to your room to change and finish your homework as you excitedly waited for your family to come home in time for dinner.

The sound of a car pulling into the driveway has you feeling elated but you need to chill, no bouncing heels and giddy grins. you can't look too excited when you ask them!

You find Jason already at the dining room table when Alfred calls for you to come down, his left leg is wrapped in a cast from the knee down and sitting at an odd angle as he has to stick his leg far out to rest in the chair. He's got a busted lip and a bruise that disappears up into his dark curls on the left side of his head, stopping just short of his cheekbone. He wears a surly expression, though it seems to be aimed at Dad more than anything else, he must be Robin, right? ……Did something happen to Jason last night?

He must feel your eyes on him as you fumble to help set the table, because he glances right at you with a pointed furrow in his brows. His lips thinning when you quickly chance a look down at his leg.

“quit staring at me.” he grumbles unhappily, rolling his eyes when Bruce clears his throat at the head of the table.

You huff at the tone he uses as you drop down in your own seat, what? You're not a total pushover, he's being a jerk for no reason. “shut your face, What even happened to you?”

Even if you're irritated at Jason's clear bad mood you can't help but get excited again at what you found out last night, your feet swinging under your chair as you stare at him impatiently. Come on they've gotta spill the beans sometime!

Bruce shoots a look at Jason - which you happen to catch out of the corner of your eye - and the teen boy sighs and throws his head back to stare up at the ceiling. Rude.

“It's nothing you need to worry about.” He mutters lowly, and for a moment he looks tired as his head rolls forward to properly dig into the food Alfred put in front of him.

The strange attitude shift nearly makes you drop it right then and there, but you just want them to admit it! You're family, you deserve to be told of their own volition, not because you have to drop that you already know. Why are they hiding it from you after all this time!? “Come onnnnn Jason, you look like you tried to fight a car and lost! You've gotta tell me what happened, was it cool? Or lame?”

You gesture at him with your fork, your feet swinging wildly under your chair. You're surprised Alfred hasn't scolded you for all your behaviors yet, but then again the look Bruce is giving you is scolding enough so maybe he's hoping Bruce will tell you to?

Jason sighs as he avoids your eye as his voice dropping quieter and gruffer as he rebuffs you yet again. “I said it's nothing, drop it kid I don't wanna talk about it.”

“….. did you do something dangerous?”

your mumbled words seem to make Jason snap, he drops his fork and shoves his plate away from himself so he can lean forward on his elbows.

“Do you know how annoying it is to have someone questioning you when you've made it clear they're bothering you? Can you just shut. up.”

Your eyes widen, but before you could say anything or apologize He's pushing himself up and away from the table while Bruce also stands, the older man quickly tries to circle around the table to scold the teen.

“Jason don't talk to the kid like that! Come on just….sit and finish your plate. Okay?” Bruce snaps out with grit tooth calmness, the kind of barely constrained feeling that'd make you feel he actually cared to defend you. if he didn't just refer to you as ’the kid’.

“Give it to (name)! They'll obviously eat it.” He shuffled out of the room with as much irritation as his teen body could allow to come through while his leg was in a cast, which was still a lot.

You just sat there quietly in stunned, embarrassed silence, his parting words rattling around your head as you tried to make sense of the meaning. Your feet were no longer swinging excitedly under the table and you couldn't even bring yourself to look at the man you called your father, ’they'll obviously eat it’ why did that make you feel so….. opposite of small and unnoticed? Everyone's looking at you now, they're paying attention to you. and you can't even lift your gaze from the plate in front of you. the resounding silence from both Alfred and Bruce left you even more confused in Jason's wake.

You didn't dare touch Jason's plate, and you didn't find yourself hungry enough to finish your own food that night.

In the end they never told you their secret, and you? You stuffed your Batman themed stuffie back under your bed, far out of sight.

🔹🔹🔹

*”Aww, look at the newest Wayne added to the list! I could just pinch your puffy little cheeks!”*

The strange woman's words have been bouncing around your head for the past hour, you thought a gala would be like something out of a movie. beautiful outfits and soft music, quiet words exchanged in accents that promised generational wealth and wisdom that comes from the best educated. You'd see real refinery. Not….. This. Scathing smirks and drunken rowdiness seemed as interchangable as Bruce's nightlife. The expensive outfit you wore wasn't at all comfortable, apparently luxury fabric and high end designer labels don't mean soft and breathable. It's stiff, folds awkwardly when you slouch or sit so you've been forced to stand stiff as a board in uncomfortable shoes ever since you got out of the back of that limo.

The people were disappointing near moreso than the outfits, they stare, stare at everything and everyone that moves like T-Rexs from Jurassic Park. Did they have no manors? Or is it on purpose, a tactic to sniff out the squeamish. Like you.

Maybe that's all that the strange woman was doing, with all that tightened skin and cold thin fingers that pinched your face until your cheeks warmed in embarrassment, the scent of strong perfume still stuck in your nose as Bruce and Dick disappeared into the crowd with practiced ease. What were you supposed to do? Stand here and wait for them? You're too close to the crowds! What if you look like a weirdo who's watching them all silently, you feel like a freak, a total loser who doesn't even know what you're supposed to do in this situation. the longer you're alone in that brightly lit, crowded room the more alone you feel….

Only after working yourself up even more until sweat started to dampen your brow did you finally start nudging between bodies to look for your should-be chaperones, this place is claustrophobia inducing in the worst of ways. By the time you spot a familiar face you feel like you're about to puke, or maybe you'll go lock yourself in the bathroom until you inhale all the oxygen and pass out - some ladies leaning on Bruce while he smiles at another next to him. What the heck? He left you by your lonesome to go womanize?!?

You try to approach your father, you're about to have a freaking panic attack here and you'd rather do it near your dad than all these strangers who're leering at each other like unblinking snakes. But a very poorly contained whispered conversation next to you catches your ear and slows your stumbled steps when you realize two middle aged people are talking about you.

”You see them? The little tubby one, you think they're actually Wayne's biological kid?”

You freeze in place as soon as you hear the man whispering to the woman in stage tones, his voice carrying clearly in the little corner area you're all tucked into. Your widened eyes dart towards them to find they're already looking at you, the amusement in their eyes makes you quickly duck down and try to carry on towards your father as the woman replies to the man's theory.

”Could be, might just take after whoever the female was. then again Wayne might be stupid enough to not get them checked himself, can you imagine the scandal if they're some random skanks-”

You make eye contact with you father just as he tilts his head towards the pair, so he must have heard all that….. Why is he just looking away? Why has he been ignoring you this whole night? You couldn't take their words anymore, your mother wasn't ‘some female’ and she wasn't a skank! They don't even know you and they're belittling a child right in front of Bruce Wayne and he only glanced at you for a moment. You were only worth a brief look.

You're not sure what they said next, as you quickly turned and darted through the nearest door to get away. You couldn't even trust your dad here…

It was cold outside of the charity banquet this late at night, at least you felt like no one would question your little shivers as you curl your arms around yourself. You couldn't exactly hide the sniffles though, your cheeks burning as you angrily wiped at your eyes every time a tear rolled down your face. Why are these people so nasty? Is this what money does to people? Your own biological father looked at you like you needed to shut up in there and not utter a sound….. Well he can stuff it just like the rest of those snobby pricks!

“whatever….. They probably all hate themselves more than anything anyways.” Your words were self soothing and bratty, mumbled under your breath so quietly no one'd hear even if they were standing over you.

“Yeah tell me about it, they're all jackasses in there huh.”

The voice coming from directly behind you made you scream.

You turned around so quickly you slipped off the step and landed on your ass and elbows on the damp, gross ground, not that you're particularly worried about a little grime and old leaves sticking to your clothes at the moment.

Behind you still on the steps is a boy, maybe roughly your age? his dark hair is slicked back with visibly too much gel, it looks like it was an attempt to hide the clearly self-inflicted undercut?…. His hands are already up placatingly as an awkward smile stretches over his lips, his grey eyes darting all around like he doesn't know where to look. “I…. Are you good, dude?”

…

He slowly rubs at the back of his neck when you don't immediately respond, at least you weren't screaming anymore? He winces at the thought of a certain someone coming to investigate the shrill sound.

After a moment of shock at someone so thoroughly startling you in the middle of your little pity party, you shakily stand up and attempt to casually dust your clothes off, you end up wincing when you feel the damp muck on your back and now on your hands, gross.

“…yeah, I'm fine.” You wince again when your voice cracks, and here you'd hoped the dark would hide your disheveled appearance enough to play it off…

The boy frowns at you and actually steps closer, ignoring your attempt to put some space back between you to set a hand on your shoulder. “are you hurt?”

His behaviors so weird, he must watch too many cop and hero shows or something. “I said I'm fine! I fell while sitting down, how's that gonna hurt me?”

You cross your arms over your chest once again while he looks at you like a confused dog, head tilting and everything. actually now that you're this close you can't help but notice he's wearing smudged eyeliner….

“Well how am I supposed to know - never mind, if you're not hurt then……was it those people in there?”

His question snaps your focus back to his words and away from his emo boy look, blinking stupidly before turning away in embarrassment. Did everyone talk about you in there? Or were you unlucky enough to be followed out by someone related to those people. Where else would he have heard all…that. “doesn't matter, doesn't matter at all. Okay?”

You roughly sit down on the steps again, you're already dirty and disgusting anyway.

But then the scrawny kid just had to sit down with you, he drops close enough for your knees to brush together and you have to resist the urge to tell him to get out of your space. He seems a bit….. Socially inept or something, maybe he's homeschooled?

“I mean, it does matter if you're out here alone instead of sitting with your family, you know they're serving a little tiny dinner thing right now right? Don't tell me you're gonna let a stinky perfume lady get in the way of eating expensive food.”

He nudges your shoulder with the gentleness of a linebacker tackle, but still his words get a quiet snicker out of you. Even if the thought of going back in there and eating in front of those people makes your stomach churn. You just shake your head and tuck your arms around your legs, your chin sitting on your knees.

“I'd….. Prefer not to go back in, I'm dirty anyways. Not exactly acceptable on white chairs and couches.” You shrug awkwardly and look away, studying the far wall like it's very interesting. Hey those big cracks in the bricks kinda look like the letter S. You wonder if a therapist would find that interesting.

The mystery boy goes quiet for a moment, making you think that maybe your little visit time is up. He probably came out here to be polite or something anyways, you're just waiting in silence for him to start mumbling about his parent looking for him soon.

He glances at you, and then around the alleyway and back, then looks back at the door behind you. You know it has to be coming - “how about I bring you something then? I mean, it'll be a peace offering since I made you fall anyways…”

Your head snaps towards the boy, but before you could even question him or politely reject the offer he's jumping to his feet with surprising spryness for someone in a fitted suit. Quickly yanking the door open and slipping back into the noisy hall before you can get a word out.

After seven minutes pass you start to think he pulled one on you.

He's probably laughing with someone right now about tricking some muddy kid outside, that or he already finished mocking you and he's now forgotten you exist.

You're up against the building now, head tilted back against the rough concrete blocks as you stare up at the sky in a vain attempt to distract yourself from the frustrated tightening of your throat and the dull stinging behind your eyes, you're not a little kid anymore, you can't just cry Everytime something happens that you don't like…. It's only an embarrassment at this age…

Suddenly something yellow fills your entire vision, you nearly scream again but the snickering beside you has you scowling and shoving the….. Can? Away from your face.

The boy is back, two Styrofoam takeout boxes in one hand and a yellow can of some kind is in the other. An amused grin lights up his face as your frown deepens at him.

“Heyyyy I'm back! Didn't know what you'd eat so I grabbed a few samples, then I realized you might have allergies so I dumped those out and got something else, then I went and got you a drink…. And some wet wipes for your hands and clothes.” He sets the can and the takeout beside you and fishes a packet of wet wipes and an identical yellow and brown can out of his back pockets. Where does he get his pants from? You want pockets like that.

That's….. You stare at the mystery kid as he drops down beside you like he did before and starts shaking his can. The casualness of his kindness has your throat tightening again but for a different reason now, you're actually speechless. You slowly pick up the one beside you to see what it even is he brought you, something called a ’yoohoo’? It was a chocolate drink? Where did he even get this from?

“I…. Where'd you find this? I didn't see any canned drinks inside….”

He pauses his movements at your random question, but only for a second before he continues peeling his takeout box open. “I went across the street to the convenience store.”

He throws you a smile, then he quickly grows awkward and looks away from you. “…. Wait do you like yoohoo’s? Shoot I should've asked first sorry - !”

“No it's fine! I've…. Never tried one before, but who doesn't like mystery chocolate drinks, yeah?”

🔹🔹🔹

The mystery boy made you smile that night, his many attempts to cheer you up were awkward and rough, but also so genuinely kind that you could almost forget the rest of the awful things that happened. Almost.

The words stuck, being left to flounder in a setting that didn't want you stuck, maybe it was Bruce's way of discouraging you from asking to go again, maybe it was a punishment. Either way you couldn't seem to shake everything off, maybe it was the words used, or the looks, maybe it was entirely Bruce.

But mirrors aren't your friend right now.

The fullness of your cheeks that years ago were kissed and poked by a loving mother, the softness in your jaw that once would've reminded you of your grandma, it all caught your eye now. Brushing your teeth or washing up now felt like you were avoiding eye contact with a stranger.

It wouldn't hurt to work on yourself right? Maybe you could join a sport or something, maybe you'll be great at it! It could run in the family…..

“Your dad needs to change.”

You nearly choke on your lunch as someone whispers creepily behind you, you have to cough to avoid inhaling rice before you can even turn to look behind you. Though you don't have to as you hear a sigh and then a boy steps in front of you and sits across from you like you're friendly. You barely recognize the dark haired boy with the pinched expression on his face, light eyes focused on you as he props his head up on his fists.

“….um, hi?” What's even happening here?

The boys expression twists even more as you greet him confusedly, what did you do wrong and why is he here? He sighs again and speaks up. “Hi. Your dad needs to change.”

Well that's helpful and informative. “I heard you the first time? Who even are yo-”

“Call me Drake. Your dads getting out of hand at night, he's losing his stuff since…. Robin.”

Your spoon falls out of your hand as this stranger not only talks about no-no Batman stuff, but he's talking about your dead….. “Dude can I help you?”

You kinda wanna leave, you've completely lost your appetite and now this kid's talking about your dad's greatest secret like it's common knowledge. You're out of your depth here, And, you're just…. Rattled.

Unfortunately he keeps going, disregarding your discomfort and uncomfortable reactions to continue on like he's lecturing you, like you've personally disappointed this guy. “Yes, Batman needs a robin. You need to tell him that.”

Your eyes widen and you quickly lean in closer, trying to shush him. “okay, can you drop the weird act and just be normal? You can't just walk up to people and talk about…. Crazy stuff like that.”

He purses his lips and drops his gaze for a moment, yet clearly doesn't reconsider his approach. “It's not crazy, I know what I'm talking about. I remember the flying Grayson's and I remember the first robin, they had to be the same boy. Batman needs that again, he needs his partner back.”

You stare at him in silence for a long, uncomfortable moment. This…drake guy is so blase about the second robin, your recently deceased brother. The boy that despite all the turbulences and petty fights, was still the reason you're back to eating alone in your room again. “…. No he doesn't, the second robin is proof of that. Can't you just…drop whatever this is, maybe go conspiracy theory somewhere else? I'd like to finish my lunch break in peace.”

You start to push yourself up from the cafeteria table, but he grabs your wrist before you can gather your tray and other items.

“Look Wayne, you can't just ignore your dad's issues, he's hurting people more and more and you could find the first robin and-” you interrupt him before he can finish. “and what, tell him to knock some sense into Batman? Do you even have any empathy for what might be happening to those two? They're grieving you jerk.”

You instantly regret snapping at him like that, you are a dumbass. You just indirectly confirmed everything he was spewing. Bruce and Dick are gonna kill you.

Drake's eyes soften, his expression falling slightly bashful and he loosens his grip on you to instead fiddle with his hands. He cracks his knuckles one by one and tries to start up again.

“….I didn't mean-” you again interrupt him before he can spew empty apologies, he doesn't even know you or anything about your family! “I've got class in two minutes. Have a good day Drake.”

You'd think you looked cool as you walked away from him, if you weren't a ball of anxiety and tears threatening to spill down your cheeks. which would be really embarrassing since you're in the middle of the lunch hall.

🔹🔹🔹

“You look tired, are things still awkward with the new kid in the house?” Conner nudges your shoulder with a gentleness he's finally learned after all the times he's nearly knocked you on your ass, it only took five years. a familiar yellow can is in his hand as you both stare down at the crowds far below the rooftop you're occupying.

“You could say that, he got a dog recently so that's actually kinda neat. I think he likes it more than the rest of the family.”

The drink tastes like bile on your tongue as you sip it, it's too sugary, too thick, it feels like choking down butter just so you can smile at your friend. Things have been even weirder in your house ever since Damian arrived and you've kinda made it Conners problem with all your complaints, the kids not exactly the problem or anything, he's just…. Quiet. It's everyone else filling his silence that bothers you, the kid straight up had to ask who you were in the middle of dinner when you were walking through the hall to grab an apple. You don't eat at that table anymore, too many eyes too much judgement in every bite you managed to choke down.

He smiles encouragingly at you like you just told him something fantastic, he's probably the only one who could do that while you're stuffing your face in front of him. “yeah? The way you talk about him I'd assume he'd want a cat….. Maybe I'm just used to y'all being emo over there.”

You can't hold in a snort at his expense. “Y'all?”

You set the can down on the ledge of the building and move to prop yourself up on the concrete, feet swinging childishly as you study the less familiar skylines of metropolis stretching before you, it might just be across a river from your home yet somehow the city feels less…. Heavy.

“Yes, y'all. Sorry I don't speak with enough grandiloquence for your taste. I'm just a boy.”

He leans close enough that for a moment you think he's gonna lean into you, all teeth and gums bared and for just a moment you feel like a teenager. then he snatches your drink from you and takes a long drag. “Damn, you've barely touched this-”

You roll your eyes and push at his shoulder in an attempt to look mad that he stole from you, to pretend anxiety didn't just roll over you the way cold water at the beach does. at least you don't have to force yourself to drink more for a moment. “Shush! ‘just a boy’ my ass. You're a hick and a thief with no morals! Stealing from a poor billionaire heir, for shame Mr Kent, for shame.”

You shake your head in mock exasperation as he just giggles harder, taking one final sip of your drink before he passes it back to you and pushes himself up on the concrete ledge with too much ease. “Oh I'm shameful alright, hey are we still on for the black Canary concert?”

For a moment you don't even know what he's talking about, mind drawing blanks as you open your mouth to answer, and then close it as it clicks. “…yeah, yes I mean! Sorry, stuffs been slipping my mind more lately. School finals and crap…”

Your eyes drop to the yellow can held between your fingers, you try to ignore his concerned stare as you idly rotate the yoohoo and swirl the remaining liquid around. You just need something to do with your hands. His silence makes you want to fidget and that'll just make him concerned.

He hesitantly speaks up while you're trying to act normal. “(name) are you-” you quickly speak up before he can start questioning you. “It's getting late dude, I've got gym in a little while.”

He remains quiet for a moment after you cut him off, you just can't bear to hear it from him. The powdery concern and baby talk and the…. Difference. You've heard it before from the school nurse and old friends you've long since stopped talking to. You're just sick of feeling different.

Eventually Conner shifts, turning himself to be facing towards you and sits crisscross on the ledge, his hands flatten against his knees as he leans towards you a bit more. “…you know I'm not gonna be….weird about the memory thing, right? You've just…. Been forgetting more stuff lately, I've noticed….”

He looks uncertain of himself as he hesitantly speaks, unsure if he should vocalize the question clearly written all over his face.

“…I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable, but…. What's going on (name)? This feels like more than school stress or family image stuff.”

You just shake your head and grin easily at the boy, countless hours in front of cameras and mirrors has hammered it into your muscle memory until you can fool even the observant Batman. Is he actually fooled or does he just not care. “It's just study stress dude.”

“I think you should talk to someone if schools stressing you out for this long.”

You don't like the implication of that, who likes being reminded that people think you're failing. You snap at him without thinking. “i think you need to mind your business.”

The venom in your own voice surprised you, so much so that you quickly spoke up again when you saw his expression tighten. “….I didn't mean that.”

He doesn't look like he believes you.

“….y'know, last week I saved someone who fell off a boat.”

The random topic switch throws you for a loop, but the look he's giving you keeps you frozen in place. He leans back on his palms and looks down at the street far below again, people watching until he continues his odd spiel.

“Do you think I was wrong to do that?”

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion and you find yourself staring at the side of his face like it'll help you make sense of this. “…no? You're a superhero I'm pretty sure it's in the job description to save people.”

He turns his head and gives you a pointed look. “Well that person could swim, they didn't need an extra hand at the moment. I could've just waited until they were actually drowning to give them help. I could've minded my business until they were in real danger.”

The now-blatant analogy slashes through your previous defense so quickly that it almost embarrasses you, heat rising to your face as your look away. He can no doubt hear the panicked racing in your chest…

“…so I fell off a boat, in this instance. You're here to tell me I need to be saved.” You don't know if you sound bitter, or resigned. Maybe something between somewhere the two, all you can focus on right now is the inevitable pity party and acts of disgust disguised as just giving you your space when they pull away-

“No, I think you're the driver in this instance. You need to steer yourself out of trouble, and maybe just find someone who can actually teach you to not fall in the damn ocean like a drunk.”

The words are meant to make you laugh, they don't. Your nails tap against the side of the metal can without rhythm as you desperately study the different buildings, now catching the light of the descending sun like maybe you could find a way to escape this situation if you just avoided his stare for long enough. You don't need a ‘teacher’, someone who doesn't even know you acting entitled to your memories and thoughts. Does he want you to go check into Arkham or something? The media would never leave you alone if they saw the Wayne name anywhere near a shrink office, they'd think you were in rehab again.

No, you just need to work through this yourself. For the family reputation. It's just for the family image….

🔹🔹🔹

You're eighteen when you see your mother's name on a piece of paper.

Finding out you inherited anything from your mother was jarring, just an envelope slipped under your door by Alfred with some official looking stamp on it. Opening it up you were shocked to see anything addressed to you from a conservator…

There wasn't much, an account with a bit of money in your mother's maiden name, notes about the division of property and assets conducted by distant relatives, a storage unit with some of her belongings. That last one caught your attention enough to make you look the place up and call the conservators number about getting the key. It takes a few days but It gets you out of the house, an oversized coat dangling off your frame as you shuffled out to a car while trying to put in coordinates on your phone's GPS. You don't know what you expect, or what you'll even remember. It's probably all moth chewed and mildewy clothing and throw pillows, but you have to look.

Dew sticks to your skin as you slowly trudge past the rows of storage units behind the disgruntled old man with an obvious limp, his cane tapping loudly on concrete in the early morning silence. He didn't ask much, just what lot number you were looking for and if you knew where to find it. When you'd reluctantly said no he'd sighed loudly and hauled himself up, and now you're trailing after him as he slowly moves through the rows of lots.

Finally he stops in front of a lot, red metal garage style door just like every other neighboring storage lot. There's nothing special or noteworthy about it at all. Yet the thought of anything belonging to your mother being right here has your throat tightening, clammy hands shake as you pull the plain looking little key out of your pocket to find out what's in literal store for you.

The old man quietly disappears back towards the front building after turning one of the outside lights on for you, but you don't pay him mind as you examine the bagged up cardboard boxes. You can only silently wonder who went through the extra effort of wrapping up each box in protective plastic.

The first few boxes you get open are kinda what you expected, clothing, blankets, curtains and tablecloths. You pause and giggle with misty eyes when you find an old roller set that you vaguely remember seeing your mom wearing in the mornings as she cooked breakfast and sang along to some forgotten song on the cranked up radio. Dropping little bits in that mangy cats bowl while you tugged at her bathrobe and asked for your own nibbles.

You wipe at your eyes and continue.

You clamber over some furniture and nearly step on a smaller box half tucked under a stained up coffee table, when you regain your balance after nearly falling flat on your face, you test the integrity of the coffee table and sit down on it. This box is lighter, and when you shake it something hard rattles inside, well you know it's probably not an undergarments box anyways.

When you get the bag off and peel the box open, the first thing you see is your mother. This box is full of pictures. An old wooden frame finds it's way into your grasp and you examine the little forgotten piece of your past. You stared down at the photo in your shaking hands, you couldn't believe this was even still intact after all these years….

Your mother's face is staring up at you with a smile from within the frame, a baby you balanced on her knee. Who even took this photo? You recognize that tiny kitchen, the stains on the countertop from too much bleach cleaner, the old dining table that had a few scratches in it from your mother's wayward cat. It's a flashback to a whole different life, back when you only worried if you'd be on time to watch your cartoons or cried in the middle of class because your friend didn't want to play potion making with you on break.

Conners words from months ago repeat in your head as you study the face you'd nearly forgotten, was she always so…soft? A soft jaw, no jutting collarbones, she looks….. Peaceful. The fullness of her cheeks accentuates her barely-familiar grin, her hands, you remember they were always so warm, smooth back the baby you's hair with a tenderness you can see even in an old still shot. You lift a hand and press it against your own cheek, the digits are cold against your flesh.

What would she think of you if she could see you now?

Disappointed? Angry? Disgusted? No, she'd probably just be sad. Your thinning limbs and sunken eyes would've made the woman weep.

Your thumb sweeps over the photo frame, trying to remember every little moment with her you can pull up from the depths of your muddled memory. Did she ever make herself sick to feel beautiful? Did she ever look at the mirror and see a grotesque monster looking back? Did she ever look at you and sob at the happiness in your eyes, just as you're crying now and trying not to mess up her picture?

You'll never really know.

🔹🔹🔹

It's been two years, two whole years since you left that city.

The weeks stretched into months and longer between contact with the Wayne's, no texts or phone calls, no letters, not even an email. It used to bother you how easily they disappeared from your life, or rather that you disappeared from theirs. Now you're just numb to it, why should you waste anymore time on people that never saw you as one of their own? You've only got one life to live and you've wasted enough of it being in miserable company.

The metropolis skyline is still one of your favorite sites as you sit at your apartment window in relative silence, the quiet doesn't bother you anymore. Not like the manor did anyways. Here in this little place nothing disturbs your peace besides the little dumb orange kitten who keeps batting at your face whenever you're too relaxed.

Said nuisance is currently in your lap, acting like your thighs are biscuit dough it's shaping as it purrs and chuffs up a storm. It's a far cry from the pitiful little beast you'd pulled out of a dumpster, scrawny and scared but even then it'd purred when you'd gingerly tucked it under your arm, That's the main reason why Conner kept calling it boat.

Months ago it would've bothered you more to feel something press at the fat of your thighs, to bring attention to parts of yourself you still couldn't stand to look at.

Your therapist told you it was a sign of progress.

You finally peel your eyes away from the window pane when you hear keys jiggling in the lock and the door cracking open, you watch as Conner strolls in the door and quickly kicks it shut with his heel. He's already starting to awkwardly peel his leather jacket off with one arm by the time he looks up and catches your eye, he grins and holds up the two bags occupying his left elbow and shakes it like it's a cat treat bag. It's a takeout bag and a convenience store bag that you can already see The familiar yellow cans through.

“Hey, i brought some dinner home.”

🔹🔹🔹

| m.list |

A/n: If any of this is too insensitive please let me know, I based this off my own struggles with self image but I don't want to hurt anyone in anyway. That said, I was also inspired by @viilan and @prettiest-thing-in-the-morgue their neglected reader fics were really inspiring and I love how they write their works💜

#dc x reader #dc x y/n #batfamily x reader #batfam x neglected reader #batfam x reader #conner kent x reader #Conner Kent x gn reader #tw eating issues #tw ed implied #eating disoder trigger warning #kon el x reader

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