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ittybittyfanblog · 7 months ago

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Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition)

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus (+ maybe the other MLs!) and an oblivious player. That’s it, that’s the plot. Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, maybe some suggestive language?? will add more tags as the story progresses A/N: This is gonna be a multi-chapter fic! I’m still not sure whether to do the boys in rotation, or just focus on one ML per series. Don’t take my word for it atp tho – I’m not even sure if I can actually finish a series lol. Also, I’ve had the creative liberty of changing stuff from the actual gameplay here and there. (Except for the self-awareness. That’s most definitely real.) Hope you enjoy~!

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 - Pt. 5 - Pt. 6 - Pt. 7 - Pt. 8 - Pt. 9 - Pt. 10 - Epilogue (for the spin-off: click here!)

It’s a quarter past eight and you’re still on your desk working overtime on a Friday night.

You let out a big sigh, leaning back on your office chair after an unhealthy duration of bad posture from hours of slouching down in front of your computer. There’s nothing ergonomic about the way this job is killing you, and the ache in your lower back can attest to that.

An irate orange tabby plops himself in front of you, blocking your view of the glaring screen and you figure that it’s time for a break.

“Me-oow.”

“I know, I know,” You answer tiredly, standing up to dodge a stray paw clawing your way and you hear cracks in three different places that are honestly unbecoming of a woman your age. You haven’t even reached thirty yet, for god’s sake. “I’m a bad mother. But mom also had to skip dinner to make it to the seven PM meeting, so cut me some slack, okay?”

A high-pitched “meooowr!” is the only response you get; it seems like there’s no excusing late dinner time this time around.

As much as you’d like to hem and haw and complain, the main reason why you’re still keeping this job is because you can work remotely. If it weren’t for the fact that you’re stuck most days at home working hours past your regular nine to five, having to be on-call around the clock at all times, and that you’ve consumed more sodium than a nitrite victim with the way you live off cup ramen, then, really, it beats working in an office where you’d physically have to clock in and out from exactly nine to five.

Your right eye twitches. No, I have not fallen in love with the system that exploits me, thank you very much.

“Here is your Fancy Feast, your highness,” you tell the hungry feline who’s already ignoring the hand that feeds for the bowl full of white fish paté. He eats healthier than you, sure, but you work like this for him to eat like this. The life of a single mom is an uphill battle, but extremely rewarding.

You raise your hand to pat your son’s head lovingly, aborting the gesture halfway when you hear a warning growl. Alright, tough crowd.

After nuking a half-eaten takeout box in the microwave and grabbing a cold Bundaberg from the fridge, you hunker down on the “chaise lounge” (see: an old wingback and a rattan ottoman you’ve refurbished as a makeshift seat a few weeks back when you had guests over) for a late meal.

You barely register the taste of lukewarm rice on your tongue, mouth moving mechanically while your mind runs on autopilot about everything and nothing at the same time.

Maybe it’s time to check Jobstreet again

Is there like a laundromat near the area that’s open twenty four seven

Eugh, I hate cold peas

What do we feel about Chromakopia?

I will… die alone

I really need to stock on some fresh produce this weekend—

Ping!

A notification from your phone pulls you out of your thoughts—and like a well-trained dog pavlov’d into responding, you visibly perk up at the sight of your lock screen lighting up and the familiar banner you’ve already memorized by heart.

Your Galaxy Explorer rewards are here. Did you put my hotel’s address as the shipping address?

Ah, just like clockwork.

You press on it with a quiet, bubbling anticipation, chewing on the plastic spork as you wait impatiently for the silly mobile game that’s been your short respite at intervals—for more than you’d care to admit—to boot up.

Offhandedly, you wish that the devs would add more variations to the game’s push notifications; more random, personalized stuff like maybe a reminder to drink water, or a fun update about their day. What you’d give–pay–for a: "Less on the overtime, kitten. I miss you,” dialogue from a certain character, but you digress.

Oh, well. Probably better this way, lest you dig yourself deeper into delusion.

The game greets you with the usual picturesque view of a silver-haired man sitting cross-legged on a chair, looking all the bit at ease in his signature crimson and white button up. The warm ambience of the Destiny Café at night draws you in, already pulling your attention away from the never-ending stream of thoughts in your brain.

“Before seeing you, I thought today would be another dull day,“ Sylus comments airily. The way he drawls out the words in that deep timbre of his voice never fails to make your heart flutter – just a teeeensy bit.

“Ever the charmer,” you sigh happily in return, situating yourself more comfortably on the sofa, almost horizontal from how far you’re leaning back on the cushion. “You’re looking awfully normal tonight. What, no pineapple glasses for your favorite girl?”

Having bypassed the initial cringe of talking to yourself after literal months of gameplay, it almost comes off natural, the banter. You’ve already accepted the fact that you’re crazy about a fictional, pixelated man—what’s pretending to have actual conversations with him gonna do? It’s not as if he actually hears you yap your nonsense; there are worse things in the world than a parasocial attachment to an otome game character.

Your little jab at the sometimes random addition to his choice of attire earns you a laugh from the man himself—or at least it looks as though it does, making you blink momentarily in surprise. Happy coincidence, I guess.

You shake your head, cracking a smile, then proceed to do the routine of completing the daily agenda and then some.

It’s tedious business, sure. You’ve dedicated hours upon hours on this game and you’re honestly starting to feel pretty bored with some of the gameplay elements, but you *do* like the ritualistic nature of ticking off the tasks one by one. It’s almost ironic— the way you dutifully do one thing after the other in this game, just to avoid the pile of work that’s waiting for you in real life.

It’s not as if anything, or anyone’s relying on you to do your daily log-ins, so you suppose it’s due to that lack of pressure as well.

Pulling yourself away from the five-star Xavier memory card you’ve grinded to level seventy, you stare despondently at the sad little 2 on your remaining energy. The embarrassing amount of materials you lack to ascend the card seem to mock you, even as you exit the Memories window. Another goal for another day, perhaps.

All tasks on the daily agenda are complete, except for one that you’ve always saved for last.

You’re met with a standing Sylus on the game’s home screen, arms crossed and wearing an expression you’d almost describe as impatient, if you didn’t know any better. The sight makes you grin.

Cheekily, you poke his crotch.

You’re looking forward to getting a playful remark, or if you’re lucky, a blush along with an embarrassed retort about your shamelessness.

What you get, however, is a resounding scoff. Your eyes snap back to his face – from, ahem, your prolonged staring at the area below his waist – and you do see the familiar tinge of pink on his cheeks, but what he says in response catches you off-guard.

“You spend that much resource for a card that isn’t mine?” Sylus tsks, both his voice and expression coming across as… affronted? “Kitten, I’m actually hurt.”

Huh?

You haven’t heard that line from him before. Was there a recent update you weren’t aware of? The man in question then appears to look amused, from the way you’ve been rendered speechless by the unexpected dialogue.

All at once, you gasp when you realize what the new response means.

“That’s so smart,” you say giddily. You see Sylus cock his head to the side, synchronously quirking an eyebrow—expectant. “They actually added a feature that lets them know which memory I’ve upgraded last, and make you react to it. Oh, that’s so cool!”

If you weren’t too busy being excited over what you think is a new update from the game, you’d see the chagrined look on Sylus’ face. But when you glance back at him, all trace of the emotion is gone before you could notice anything different.

“Don’t worry, Crow Man. You’re still my favorite,” you assure him, making his mouth tick upwards in a semblance of a smile. He looks pleased all of the sudden, his demeanor shifting into something more relaxed.

Then a pout forms on your face. You crinkle your nose in frustration as you complain, “It’s just really hard to level your cards up at this point. It takes ages and a shit ton of energy just to level you up past seventy five.” Sighing, you add, kind of bitterly, “And I’m too broke to be spending money on growth packs.”

Checking the time on your phone, you see that you’ve already spent more than an hour on your self-imposed break time and you know that you ought to get back to work soon. With a groan, you pull yourself to sit upright, savoring the last few minutes of free time before you slave off for the rest of the night.

You’re about to clean up what’s left of dinner when you notice the oddly thoughtful look on Sylus’ face.

There’s a deep furrow in his brows as he brings a hand up to cover his mouth. He closes his eyes shut for a few seconds. He's never done that gesture before... Ugh, he looks really hot–

Suddenly, you see a flicker—then a weird, sort of graphic distortion happening in the background. Uh, what??

A beat; then a glitch on the screen. “Ah, shit.”

The game crashes.

You exhale loudly as the game’s interface goes back to the loading screen, tapping your thumb impatiently as the bar slowly loads to 15%... 50%..... 81%.......

“Maybe make sure to patch up first before releasing an update next time, jeez—huh?”

For a quick second, nothing seems to be amiss. But then the first thing you see on the home screen is Sylus’ figure standing before you, wearing an expression one could only describe as a cat that ate the proverbial canary.

He speaks— and it’s another intro you haven’t heard him say, ever.

“You should’ve told me sooner, sweetie,” he almost coos the words out, making your eyes bug out in shock.

“Now, why don’t you go check your–” he pauses, and his mouth moves as if he’s rolling the word out, testing it. “Inventory?”

Sylus slides his gaze towards the upper left corner of the screen, a coy smirk still ever-present on his face.

There, you see something you haven’t noticed earlier: two notification badges. One on your mailbox, and another on the Hunter’s Info tab. Bewildered, you press on the mail icon first, despite the insistence for you to start with the latter.

You see a new message: [For You]

A small gift, to bridge our worlds closer. – S

Nothing is attached to it. You read it twice, perplexed.

“You’re quite the contradictorian, aren’t you?” Sylus tuts as soon as you return back to the home screen, his gaze boring into you even when he tilts his head sideways in mock exasperation. “Mmm, I suppose it doesn’t matter. Take all the time you need, sweetheart.”

Helplessly, you open your inventory next.

Your jaw drops.

“What. The fuck,” You whisper to yourself, voice wavering in disbelief at what you’re seeing, and the sheer amount of what you’re seeing. “This—this can’t be real.”

You see that all the materials you own, from the bottle of wishes to the ascension crystal boxes, have been multiplied a hundred times over.

And on top of that–

Ninety nine thousand red dias????

You cannot believe how this—this recent… update (or is it a bug? Infold sure isn’t this generous) didn't make the news. Even as someone as uninvolved as you are with the community and the game’s latest releases, something like this for sure would’ve made headlines on Twitter (X), at least. But you haven’t heard anything. Nada.

Holy shit.

You feel a little light-headed, both from incredulity and excitement. Needing a moment to calm yourself down, you exit the Inventory tab in a daze.

You stare at Sylus. He stares back at you with what looks to be mirth in his eyes.

Skeptically, you mutter, “did–did I get hacked or something?”

Anticipating another unexpected dialogue to prompt up, you wait for a full minute without saying anything else. And for a moment, the man in front of you looks indecisive, contemplative.

There’s something very odd, very… human in the way he’s looking at you. He looks as if– as if he’s—

His face falls back into a neutral expression. Not unlike how his idle animation usually looks.

…

….. It doesn’t seem like he’s going to initiate a conversation any time soon, so you hesitantly poke him on the nose.

“Even in the worst-case scenario, there’s no need to panic.”

You’ve heard that one before.

So he’s back to normal now. You temper the small disappointment that blooms in your gut.

Shaking your head slowly, you try to make sense of all the stuff that just happened, but a sharp bite on your ankle pulls you out of your reverie.

“Ow–!” The sight of your cat flopping near your feet reminds you of the time. More importantly, the backlogs waiting for you at your desk.

“Wait, shit– I gotta get back to work.” This… unbelievable stroke of good luck (?) is gonna have to take a backseat for now.

You grab the carton box and the half-empty bottle of sparkling peach as you stand up. Making quick work of throwing the container in the trash and gulping down the rest of your drink, you rush into your room and back in front of your PC.

Cracking your knuckles, you gingerly set your phone against the monitor. Setting the timer to one hour in Quality Time, knowing fully-well that you’re going to have to keep extending it until the wee hours of the morning—or until your battery dies, whichever comes first—you give Sylus one last look, letting out a long exhale before locking in.

“Just keep me company for the night, alright? I’ll figure out what’s going on once my shift’s over.”

It could just be your overactive imagination, but you swear you hear a quiet chuckle from the man polishing his gun in your peripheral.

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

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salynaa · 1 month ago

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~Black Sapphire Cookie

Looks like you'll be getting more visitors soon!Thanks to a certain someone huh…

#salynaa #cookie run kingdom #cookierunkingdom #crk x y/n #crk #crk x you #self insert #cookie run x reader #crk x reader #black sapphire cookie #black sapphire crk #black sapphire x reader #self aware au #self aware crk #apple candy cookie #shadow milk cookie

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superson3oz · 2 months ago

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if possible, can you draw abt self-aware shadow milk or pure vanilla with y/n? I luv them being self-aware, thank you!! ^^

Hope i characterized pv fans correctly ^-^

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kleptokure · 2 months ago

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Chaotic Crushes ᰔᩚ

Burning Spice & Golden Cheese, Mystic Flour & Dark Cacao, Shadow Milk & Pure Vanilla x GN!Reader (separate pairs)

❯❯❯❯

Burning Spice Cookie & Golden Cheese Cookie

The day was moving along as it tends to. There were no duties that called for your aid, and you could rest as much as you liked. While that did sound nice, you decided to log into a game you play quite frequently: Cookie Run: Kingdom.

Hopping onto your device, you found you had little to do. Nothing much besides the daily activities until the next update comes out. Before the inevitable of logging off, you wanted to play around with your favorite pair of counterparts: Burning Spice Cookie and Golden Cheese Cookie. It wouldn't hurt to have a bit more fun.

You located the two and dragged them to an open area in your kingdom. They did not share an interaction, but you liked to pretend the both of them were annoyed with the other's presence. While they were your favored, you enjoyed bringing about their forced bonding. It's not like they can deny the player.

Random dialogue appeared above their heads, which was nothing out of the usual. In spite of that, there was a chat bubble that made you look twice.

"I do not see what you gain from this!"

Golden Cheese Cookie held the stance of staring into your screen, as if she truly was speaking to you. Of course, that would be nonsense since this is a game. And yet your next actions include clicking on Golden Cheese repeatedly. You search for that same sentence, but nothing alike appears.

Her Radiance then returns to a normal pose, which settles you a bit. Still, maybe you should have taken up on that nap earlier.

To return yourself to peace, you drag the beast back to the side of the ancient. They behave as coded. Somehow, you retain that sense of unease. It seems you can't let that mishap slide by. You were right to do so because another so-called accident appeared.

"Your badgering has grown boring over time!"

Your eyes hovered over the chat from Burning Spice Cookie. The pose of looking your way was taken by him as well. You begin to think, was there an update you missed? You are positive you would have known at least something of it. The cookies cannot simply act how they please all of a sudden.

You are growing both anxious and amused. The factor of mirth was less, though. With that said, you decided to log off for a moment. Cookie Run: Kingdom did not appeal to you like it tends to.

But it seems the game was persistent in having your attention. You were unable to pull out of the tab at all. It was stuck on your screen, with the music playing in the background as always.

Irritated, you scrutinized your screen. There were no pop-ups that were notifying of a bad connection, and all movement progressed with zero delay. Your eyes felt the need to trail back to Golden Cheese and Burning Spice, only to find the pair with their eyes staring at you. This time, they took up no other actions. Just a long, hard stare your way.

You were beginning to freak out. The situation was not looking upwards due to the fact of your screen zooming in by its own commands. All you could see was the two of them.

You confirmed it yourself; your game was broken in some way. It was hard to know how. As much as you wanted to ponder over the circumstances, you were gifted no time to. Your screen became a blinding white, and you backed away from it. Whatever was happening, it was intentional.

You wait for an event, yet your eyes catch nothing amiss. Your screen was black, meaning the entire game decided to shut off. Oh well. That was preferable anyway. Now you feel silly for being afraid. But then your ears catch an unexpected noise.

Inspecting, you witness hands extending out of your display. To reiterate, hands are coming out of your screen. The sight may be in front of you, but you pinch yourself in hopes of this being a terrible nightmare. Much to your dismay, you experienced the pain.

Running out of your room was a smarter choice, yet you backed into a corner. Fear engulfed you, and you were too afraid to watch. You relied entirely on your hearing, which brought a loud laugh that echoed off the walls. Silence followed after, sending off a false sense of security.

Footsteps were loud against your floor. Before you could grasp onto the noise, hands grasped around you. You were lifted off of the floor and carried by a muscular subject.

Now opening your eyes, there was much to indulge in. You were unaware of what to concentrate on. The strong aroma of spice nearby did not assist your focus. Even so, you believe you know what predicament you have fallen in. Is that truly who you think it is?

"How dare you place your hands on my treasure? Release them at once!" With a voice so divine and a presence that shines like gold, Golden Cheese Cookie stood in your room. Hovered, to be exact. Her wings defied what was humanly possible.

Holding you was the person she shouted at. The scent that stems from them left you with one guess.

"Hah! You dare tell me what to do? They shall be for my appeasement," the booming voice of Burning Spice Cookie states. You could feel the muscle in his arms, which were wrapped around your side. It seems he came into your world just as brawny as he was spoken to be in his own dimension.

For the slightest second, you squirmed to readjust your position. Your small movement caught the gaze of the two. Their eyes burned into your skin like you did something wrong.

For reasons unknown to you, Burning Spice Cookie released his grip around your figure. You took the chance of backing away from them, their sights not leaving you for a moment.

Golden Cheese inched closer to you, and Burning Spice behaved the same. She sent him a harsh stare; he returned it. Another argument would arise soon. That is the last act you would want executed, so you spoke up for once, ridding yourself of your shell-shocked behavior.

"Hey," you said, your tone not exactly still. Once again, you had their attention, which included their unsettling stare. Your next words did not follow after since you were unsure of what to say. Calm down? It would be hypocritical to demand an attitude you don’t even own right now. You chose to question instead.

"How... How are you both here right now?" Even now, you are not certain of the way they arrived. Could they merely just jump out of the game at any time? If so, why could they not appear in their cookie form? Circumstances would be much simpler then.

You did take note of their somewhat kind bearing towards you. Golden Cheese Cookie deemed you her treasure, and Burning Spice Cookie regarded you as his form of appeasement. You do not recall doing much for them in the game. How could they view you so highly?

Then you remember the starting signs of this entire situation. They stared at you from within the game, which means they can see you, which means they could see you this whole time. The idea does not settle well. Perhaps they could hear you coo over them at random intervals as well.

Now that you believe you have a few facts understood, you wait for a reasonable response from one of them.

"Right! Excuse my rude entry, darling. I have desired to see you for quite some time now, you know..." Golden Cheese Cookie sounds displeased for a matter you were unable to control. By some means, you feel guilty.

"You," Burning Spice started off. His tone startled you a bit. "You are far from boring. I have ached to find my way to you." He stepped closer, a grin spread on his face. "I have you now." You gulped at his last claim. You are sure he means that.

"Shall I inflict my radiance upon your stupidity once more?" Golden Cheese Cookie did not take a liking to his declaration over you. If her weapon came along, there would surely be a brawl. You are starting to see a pattern for the reasonings of their quarrels.

"How about we all sit down?" You suggested before Burning Spice could respond to the threat Golden Cheese sent. You made a trail towards your bed and sat down. Thankfully, they followed in your steps. You were glad your bed did not collapse under their weight.

Their compliance is surprising. They manage to tower over you, and the power that accompanies them is greater than yours. It is an odd feeling to have both of the mighty beings seemingly under your command. It is not a bad feeling, though.

Golden Cheese Cookie put her wings to rest. She made herself a seat right to your side. Her wing snuck around your shoulder.

Burning Spice Cookie spared no time for her attempts at flattery. He took a seat next to your other side, pressing his own skin to yours. Her wing was moved aside, replaced by his head smushing to your cheek. It is obvious he was curious about your nature.

It would appear these cookies know nothing of personal space, yet in reality, they do. The both of them simply deem it unnecessary when it comes to you.

"So, um, why are the both of you here?" Since your last question was ignored, you brought up another. You received their claims of wanting to meet you, but why? Was remaining inside the borders of their game not satisfying enough?

"Subjected to the unworthy matters of such a monotonous game," he huffed, like the memory pained him. "But then there was you. Your presence was a constant—yet your arrival excited me all the same." A chuckle brewed within him. "I craved the thrill you give."

His statement was strangely flirtatious, all spoken in a proper manner as well. It could cause your stomach to flutter. His fiery eyes, paired with his long lashes... Burning Spice Cookie was a sight to behold in his human form, and that was a plain fact.

You turned away from him, giving a hum in response. He was bored and stuck in a game. His motive was understandable, as anyone would go crazy under that situation.

Golden Cheese Cookie released a sigh intertwined with annoyance. It was clear she did not care a bit about Burning Spice's reason. Clearing her throat, she brought the attention to herself.

"Well, how could I not want to meet the one responsible for all my prosperity?" Her eyes sparkled while they fixed upon yours. She appeared even more divine than she did in the game.

"I only wished to thank you face-to-face." Her hand snuck into yours, attaching your palms together in a tight grasp. "You've provided me with an abundance of gold, yet my most prized possession is right here," she declared.

It is getting really hot in here now. You were bound to end up flushed between the two of them, but their words caused circumstances to grow poor. You would not want to mistake anything, but how else would one take their statements? The way they look at you with such admiration? You believe you'll faint.

"It's no big deal, really," you assured. Your eyes averted from hers since you found her stare overbearing.

Burning Spice Cookie was nowhere near fond of the sight of you and that woman, who he believes would be better off elsewhere.

Snatching away your attention from the greedy queen, Burning Spice placed his hand upon your lower back, pushing you closer to him. While you wanted to look anywhere but at a pair of eyes, he focused your gaze on his own.

"Appeasement," he titled you, "amuse me."

An odd choice of a nickname, but you find it fitting when it comes from him. Focusing on his request, you find yourself lost. How could you amuse a beast of destruction? There is no way you would challenge him in combat, so you think of a choice you would be capable of.

"Nonsense! They do not have to appeal to the likes of you," Golden Cheese Cookie sneered. She could be correct, yet you acted in the interest of the man anyway.

Shifting upwards, you pulled yourself to press a kiss to the cheek of the beast. The second after, you felt sick with apprehension. Was that the best option in mind? There must have been an alternative to please his constant need for entertainment.

In spite of your assumptions, Burning Spice Cookie was delighted. Within his mind, he presumes he will never find himself bored with you present.

To express his gratification, he releases the sound of boisterous laughter. Once again, he tightens his arms around you, which could be concluded as his form of a hug.

"Yes...! That's the rush I crave! Appeasement, amuse me again." Maybe introducing him to your small way of amusement was a bad choice. He is as greedy as his counterpart.

Speaking of his counterpart, her radiance is far from pleased. You dared to press your lips to the skin of that brute? Oh, you must have felt pressured, she claims. Fear not, as your queen is nowhere far.

She pulls you from the arms of her enemy. Commencing her wings to flight, Golden Cheese Cookie carries you in her own hold, which she deems where you will be far more content.

"You vermin! I will—" The scolding that approached the man came to a pause. The mouth Golden Cheese has was sealed due to your abrupt action. She received your soft kiss to her cheek, causing her anger to diminish into dust.

For a gesture so small, Golden Cheese Cookie feels the urge to request an abundance more of your affection. She presumes you would not hesitate if she asked. You were so giving when it came to her gold; would you provide a different source the same way if inquired?

She will question you later, preferably at a distance away from the beast. For now, you are returned to your feet and given your freedom.

The two are surprisingly silent. Still, you can catch them eyeing you, and their stares speak for them. It seems to be a matter you will have to learn to get used to, as it is not looking to be going away.

You hope they can attempt to coexist since you are positive they plan to stay awhile. Or they will refuse, and persistent fights will arrive. Regardless, a kiss could potentially help, based on the behavior they exuded moments prior.

While you're here, things will be under control. You'll have to be the one to assist with their questions. They will have a lot to ask about your world and a lot to ask about you. Nonetheless, they will be fine. But will you?

Mystic Flour Cookie & Dark Cacao Cookie

Late at night, you were awake in your bed. At an hour like this, it would be best to go to bed, but your sleep schedule was already ruffled. You saw no reason in attempting to fix it now. Besides, there were significant issues that required your aid. Those issues may be within a game, but they remain problems all the same.

While you do love Cookie Run: Kingdom, you were growing tired of logging in to repeat the same actions. In all honesty, you were missing a few days of resources that you could claim. The whole of your motivation was left to your guild. You did not want to get kicked for inactivity.

You were amidst your dark room, the lone source of light acting as the screen displaying the game. Your eyes exhibited boredom as you waited for each of the nine battles to end. The 2x button seemed like it was failing to help.

At the commencement of the final battle, you glanced at your team, which included Dark Cacao Cookie, along with his opposite, Mystic Flour Cookie. You are aware there is dialogue between him and his son at the start of a shared battle, so you tend to pay the text bubbles no mind.

This time around, you took a glimpse of what they conversed about. To your surprise, it seemed like you were included in his conversation.

"Why must you be so distant at times?"

You do not believe you read that correctly, but a quick read over proves you wrong. What does he mean by that? Was he talking to Dark Choco Cookie? It could apply to him, but such can be said for you as well. You have failed to log in for a few days now.

It must be something you are unaware of. You would rather not bother your mind with what appears to be a bug. Then again, you still played out a practice guild battle to investigate your worries. You eyed your team, and there popped another sentence, but not from the cookie anticipated.

"I have longed for the sight of you once more."

Now, it was Mystic Flour Cookie who acted bugged. Seriously, what was up with your game? You do not pay much attention to your battles; that much is true, yet you believe you would have taken note of their dialogue by now.

Aiming to make sense of the situation, you check the game's update log. You scroll, your eyes trailing over each bar of text to find what could settle your worries. There was nothing to be seen, and you were left clueless.

Thinking over what happened, you conclude this was nothing to fret about. It could very well be a mistake that the developers released by accident. After all, it is just a cookie game. They are all coded to act how they do. It would be silly to think they're sentient.

Before you went to bed, you took the two cookies who had startled you: Mystic Flour and Dark Cacao. You drag them to interact with random objects placed in your kingdom. It made you feel the slightest bit better.

"To even think you guys were real... Maybe I'm missing too much sleep," you spoke to your screen. You did not expect an answer in return.

"I am real."

What? Okay, now you realize the state of your affairs. That could not possibly be programmed into Dark Cacao Cookie's chat. Your game is absolutely hacked, or bugged, or something. It has to be something.

"I'll show you if I must."

Those next words send you into a panic. When did this become a horror game? How does she plan to display an impossible act? It was impossible for her to become existent, right?

If it were true, then you would like to prevent it. The timing was much too far into the night for events like this to be happening. With a quick mind, you conjure up a reaction.

"Wait! Wait, how about... no?" You tried to let your response down softly as to not offend whatever sentience was before you. It would be breathtaking to witness a humanized cookie, but the dark in your room made you think otherwise.

Your rejection was not taken as lightly as you wished, though. They were not as quick with sending out responses compared to before. In fact, your entire screen went black, most likely due to the power of them. This was all appearing far too genuine to entertain the thought of this being a dream.

Using your nimble wit, the best choice of action was to flee. Where? Your closet. Although when you take place behind the closed door, you realize that a different location would have been better.

It was too late. Your brain had played tricks on you by now, making you believe whatever was out for you took place in your room. As might be expected, you soon realized that was stupid. Your subconscious was scared, and you knew it.

What was there to be afraid of? You said it was simply a cookie game. There is not anything out for you. Your mind was eased, and you stepped out of your hiding place.

It goes without saying, there was nothing within your space. No monster, no cookies, nothing. A sigh you were unaware of holding escaped from your mouth. Then the sigh was not the only sound inside of your room.

The next thing you knew, there was a loud tumble audible, and you jumped out of surprise. After that, there came your returning fear. It may have been dark, but you could notice the outlines of two people, who were beginning to stand up.

Before anything else, you turn on your side lamp. You were scared, yes, but you would also like to see the face of what would end you. With a spring of light, you look forward.

In front of your eyes, you could observe recognizable faces. It did not take long for you to understand what happened.

"Your resolution irks me to no end. There is no reason for you to be here," spoke the pale lady, her voice firm in tone.

"Yet again, you stand in my way. I will cut you down once more if necessary," the man folded his arms. The hostility in the air was thick. You are well aware of the past between the two of them. It looks to be that they shared a matching goal: reaching you.

"Holy..." You breathed out in shock. Despite the rapid amount of blinks you took, the pair remained ahead of you. This is far from imaginary. You have Dark Cacao Cookie and Mystic Flour Cookie amidst your room.

Your singular word attracted the gaze of them both. Unlike them, you were unable to vocalize your feelings. It was obvious you were shocked. It was no problem in their opinion. As nice as your voice sounds, they came here to lay their eyes upon you in person.

Her footsteps were agile; it did not appear as if she even moved. In the next second, Mystic Flour stood before you. You leaned back, yet she leaned in. Her eyes opened, revealing the darkened stare she owned.

Even with features that would seem disturbing, Mystic Flour Cookie appeared ethereal. It was captivating to witness her from a distance, whereas the shortened proximity taps at your nerves. You pray any of your prior words had not insulted her.

Her hand crept to your cheek. "It is you," she whispered, her touch gentle when in contact with your skin. Your mouth was dry, yet you evoked your response in due time.

"...Are you real?" Your voice was quiet as you asked for confirmation. You felt as if you were getting swallowed in her unwavering gaze, but you kept still. Her hand was cold at the time she cupped your cheek.

Dark Cacao Cookie stepped forward, disliking the view he saw. "She should not be here." His hand fell onto her shoulder, increasing the space between you and her.

Mystic Flour Cookie's face twitched, and she brushed the hand of the man off of her shoulder. It did not take much to notice their hatred for one another. You would rather there arise another topic since it seemed like the two would argue at any moment.

"Dark Cacao Coo—or, just Dark Cacao, how are you..." Your sentence had not come to finish, as you cut yourself off at the sight of the lord stepping closer. It was to no one's surprise that he towered over you. His hand dropped its secure grip on your shoulder. They both come off as touchy, you believe.

"I have managed to achieve my true strength. I am able to protect my kingdom with ease and fight for my subjects. My sword has grown sharper—because of you." His stare was resolute as he looked your way. You felt your ego inflate due to his words. How nice it felt to experience a lord expressing gratitude for you, albeit he originates from a game.

"I did that? I mean, yeah, I did that! It was easy, really. You were very deserving of it." It was like all of your previous anxiety had diminished. Since you were aware they held you in high regard, you would play along. It brought no harm to.

You catch sight of Dark Cacao's bashful face. It looks like your words went to fluster him. He will have to get accustomed to it. Knowing how much power you hold, you plan to use it to your advantage.

In the corner of your eye, Mystic Flour Cookie gives the impression she is brooding. Perhaps your small praise of her rival left her upset. It would not be fair to pick and choose when you are certain they both worked hard to reach you. Breaking out of a game sounds like no easy work.

Shifting her way, your hands find their way to hold her own, bringing her near your person. This gains her attention, and her eerie stare is placed onto you once again.

"Mystic Flour," you started off in a murmur, "I think you did what you had to do. In the end, you are worthy of the care I give you." You were close enough to whisper in her ear, pulling away to send her a quick smile. With her skin complexion, you could see the red tint on her face with ease. She is as adorable as her foe.

You spoke in a mighty tone, keeping the god title they placed you in. It would only be right. It was clear they were in need of some sort of tribute. They may be tall and powerful, but their need of affection remains. As their "god," you were more than happy to give what they sought from you.

Mystic Flour Cookie shut her eyes and returned a nod of her own appreciation. Her hands tightened around yours, yet you had to free one palm from hers to clasp another.

Dark Cacao Cookie appeared bothered at the statement you gave to her, but his complaints were unheard. It was as if his exasperation reduced to dust when you held his hand.

"Now, let's stop the sulking." Your request fell on deaf ears. Mystic Flour cannot tolerate that man, even for you. The same can be said for Dark Cacao. There is a limit to what he can do in favor of you.

"Hey, uh, when will you guys return to your world?" You eyed both of them, believing you could guess their answers.

"I plan to stay by your side," he replied. You feel uneasy when Mystic Flour Cookie does not send her response. With that given, you are sure they own an identical answer. Would it be possible to change their minds? From your memory, they were keen with resolution and set with apathy. It may take a bit to send them off, if it's even attainable.

For now, you will have to deal with the two of them. They are silent enough, but their animosity is constant. Will you be able to deal with the tension?

Shadow Milk Cookie & Pure Vanilla Cookie

It was early morning, and in your bed you lay, wide awake and eager for the upcoming day. There were no events to attend in person. Instead, there was an update coming to the game you adored: Cookie Run: Kingdom.

You wanted to prepare for the arriving cookie, so you made sure to gather all of the resources that were within your reach.

All of the codes available were input, and you claimed your rewards from such. Heading to your guild's alliance, you battled the highest difficulty you could manage. The rewards for a high tier were not ones to be passed up.

Finished with that, you moved onto the daily acts you could do. Collecting your train goods, sending off the balloon, and fulfilling wishes. Everything was almost complete, but you had the arena to finish up with. Tallying time was around the corner, so you wanted your tier to experience growth before then.

As always, you clicked on battle after battle, watching as your collection of trophies rose next to your tier. Down the path, you faced a few problems with Pure Vanilla Cookie dying off. He was insufficient compared to other teams, so you wanted to fix the problem.

Seeking out his beascuit stats, you aimed to modify a few things. Before you clicked on the icon, you received a piece of dialogue from the healer.

"Could you spare me a minute or two?"

Huh. Although that sounded sweet, you were focused more on the creation of the text. Somehow, you cannot dwell on the memory you first heard that. Was it added on a later date?

Having fixated on Pure Vanilla Cookie during a certain period, you feel as if you would recall his question, yet you fail to. It must be your blurry memory. It seems like a reasonable conclusion.

You wanted to view those words anew to remember them the next time around, just to ensure no unnecessary confusion. Even so, after you tapped the character a few times, you could not find the message you were in search of. It disappeared, like it never existed. Strange, but you chose to let the topic go.

While you believe you clicked on Pure Vanilla Cookie's beascuit, you ended up on another cookie's stats: Shadow Milk Cookie. It was simply an accident, so you undo your mistake and return to Pure Vanilla's screen. Over again, you click on his beascuit, but then the same mishap occurs. How are you ending up on Shadow Milk instead? Your game is awfully glitchy today.

Then, out of nowhere, you are on the screen of the blue jester. His cookie floats to the left, seemingly innocent of the reoccurring disturbances. Another inconvenience arrives, and you are stuck on his screen. You are unable to click on the next cookie. None of the arrows work, and the exit button has denied you.

You would go to assume you need to reset, but the fact that everything else is fine leaves you curious. You are allowed to click on his cookie, beascuit, toppings, and skill. All is well, except the exit source. At some point, you just started to spam it. That's when you hear your next problem.

"Hey! Didja forget? I'M the star of the show!"

That marks the second time you are presented with unseen dialogue, both of which feel like you are being spoken to directly. You do not have a known cause for this, but you hope a shutdown of the game could aid your tiny predicament.

But of course, luck was not on your side. You were not presented with the chance of closing the game. The display of Shadow Milk Cookie persisted. It would be weird to blame a fictional character, but you want to point fingers at him anyway.

Looking around, you check for a bad internet connection. Nope, nothing. When your eyes trail back to the screen, you do notice another fact. Shadow Milk Cookie is gone. He is not on your screen, even though you are on his page. What could possibly be wrong with your game? A cookie cannot just up and walk away.

Then, one feature worked. You could move onto the page of the next cookie in your team, like you had been wanting to earlier. Now, Pure Vanilla Cookie is displayed. You could have returned to a normal routine, yet you did not. The last few moments were not to be dismissed.

All of a sudden, there was audible giggling behind you, which echoed in your room. There was no one else but you that resided here, so you were obtaining genuine fear.

Glancing at your screen, there was yet another interference. Pure Vanilla vanished in the same manner Shadow Milk did. Have your cookies just decided to leave you? You always thought you cared for them well, but perhaps not.

You felt no need to stay within the bounds of your room for much longer, so you got up and headed to your door. You are not sure one would believe your situation if you were to tell them, but you hold no care for that. Getting a breath of fresh air was your main goal.

Every goal is accompanied by its obstacles, except you forgot about that part. You did not anticipate the arrival of your new guests, which left them with an opportunity to sneak up on you.

Stopped in your tracks, you stumbled upon your locked door. Not from the inside, but from the outside. Your urgency increased with each rattle of the knob until a voice was heard behind you.

"Awwwh, where are you going? The fun just started!" There poofed a blue man in front of your way of escape. While you wished to be courageous, you were startled by his appearance and shrieked, stumbling over your balance and falling. Fear not, as there was an awaiting grasp at your back.

"Shadow Milk Cookie, must you behave such a way? You are scaring them," spoke the soft voice near, their arms steady around your body. Hearing that name confirmed what you initially thought to be insane. The character became real, and he was right ahead of you with a grin across his face.

Peering upwards, you spotted the opposite of the jester. He turned your way with a kind smile adorning his face.

"My light..." Pure Vanilla Cookie tugged you closer, his voice warm like a candle. His embrace felt safe, yet you were still alarmed by the situation.

Shadow Milk rolled his eyes at the sappy man. The beast wanted nothing more than to have you near him, but he begrudgingly listened to Pure Vanilla. His goal was not to scare you, although it would be humorous to.

You slipped from the grip of the blonde man, who was saddened but allowed you as you wished. Your expression seemed tense, and he did not want to frighten you. Their attention was on you and you alone.

Thinking too hard gave you a headache. You do not think you could comprehend what occurred before you. "I don't—I can't understand what just happened." They both recognized your concern, but Pure Vanilla Cookie was the one who expressed his sympathy.

"There is nothing to fear—" The compassionate man was pushed to the side, overshadowed by his parallel.

"Whatever could you mean? The star of the show has graced you with his presence!" Shadow Milk Cookie was able to fly, which was an entirely different matter for you to gawk at. He hovered to your side and wrapped his arms around your neck, his touch smooth but cold. You felt his hair curl to your cheek, as if it possessed its own mind.

Your eyes stared into his. Seeing him in the game was fine, yet his features became more prominent when humanized. Observing the eyes in his hair truly left you bothered. "Why?" Your question was legitimate. What made them determined to visit you? They seem nice enough, so you are glad you did them no wrong.

"I needed to see you SO BAD! I mean, any good host would spend time with their number one fan." He deemed you his number one fan? Really? You are not sure if you felt flattery.

Your hand was pulled in the direction of Pure Vanilla Cookie, diverting your heed to him instead. Shadow Milk Cookie gave no approval to this, his expression salty and hateful. It was obvious he believed the attendance of Pure Vanilla was unnecessary.

"My friend, you have given me your faith throughout my journey. I could not have done it without you." His eyes unveiled the pretty case of heterochromia he has. The way he stared at you made you feel all nice. You were unknowing of exactly what you provided for him, but you received his gratitude all the same.

"Blah, blah, blah. They only did what was coded. I’m sure they had my best interest at heart," Shadow Milk Cookie excused, reclaiming your personal space as his own with the pull of his arms. You did not confirm nor deny the statement given by Shadow Milk. Slight irritation exuded from the usually calm man.

"...What do the two of you want from me?" Now that they reached you, you wondered what their plans were. If it is anything simple, you can see yourself offering.

"I only desired to see you, my light." Pure Vanilla Cookie was so upfront with the admiration he held for you, it was almost overwhelming to hear. He was nearly a stranger admitting this. "I wished to illuminate you with the same warmth you gave me."

Despite how strong he may come off, you appreciate his thanks. Your hand lowered to hold his. Your action surprised him, but your next movement shocked him.

You planted a kiss on the back of his hand, returning his faltered smile with your own. It was the least you could do for such heavy devotion. You found yourself respecting him as well. Pure Vanilla sent out shy chuckles, clearly pleased by what you conducted. Would it be selfish to ask for another? He ponders.

Watching from the sidelines, Shadow Milk Cookie is furious. How does that stupid, blind gnat receive a kiss from you? He believes your kindness needs to learn some limits, which should stop right at the edges of that foolish man.

You were aware of the jealousy oozing off of Shadow Milk Cookie. It was simple to catch on to his emotions after a few minutes. You would not want anything broken in your room due to a fight, so it would be best to share your affection. It was planned to be passed anyway.

Before you could reciprocate the same behavior for Shadow Milk Cookie, the man scooped you up in his arms effortlessly. Inspecting his face, you notice a scowl taking place on his lips. For someone who was so playful a second ago, he held such resentment within him.

"Not everything can be solved with friendship, Silly Vanilly," he mocked, sarcasm in his tone. You believe the only reason he fails to attack his rival is because of you. At any other rate, there would be holes in the wall.

To lessen his loathing, you were quick to bring his hand to your lips. You send him a kiss, similar to the way you gave Pure Vanilla. The piece of affection seemed to shut his temper up immediately, and he clung to you further.

"Ha ha! I knew ya loved me more!" That seemed to be baseless evidence, but you repaid his hug with a smile anyway. It went without effort to get acquainted with his silliness when in person. You can foresee the new fun he will bring with his antics.

Pure Vanilla Cookie could not say he was pleased with what he saw, but he went without speaking about it. You behaved the way you do because of your benevolence, and he wanted to respect that. He would live up to his nickname if he were to compete for your time.

Managing the two of them for a bit does not seem difficult. Surely, if they could come here, they could go back. They will return to the game at some point, but you can hang out with them right now. Hopefully, their competitive demeanors will be rid of. You can only anticipate how you will handle them until then.

#self aware #they escaped from your device #now you have two partners who want you for themselves #burning spice cookie x reader #burning spice cookie #mystic flour cookie x reader #mystic flour cookie #shadow milk cookie x reader #shadow milk cookie #gn reader #crk #cookie run kingdom

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married-to-google-translater · 11 months ago

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Self aware AU: Dorm leader's reaction when they woke up in your room.

Vil would be the first to go check your wardrobe. He would want to see how different your taste was compared to "normal". Vil would throw away some of the clothes if he noticed that they were small or torn. He would also otherwise search your room. When he saw you for the first time he would smile and give you a kiss on your hand.

Kalim would be just happy to meet you. He would have waited a very long time for this. Kalim would just wait for your return. When he saw you he would immediately run to hug you.

Riddle would try hard not to touch anything. He would like to respect your rules and space. Most likely, he would just try to sit still and wait for you. However, Riddle might be making tea while he waited. He would be happy to see you and blush a lot.

Leona would wake up in your bed. He would probably just turn his side and try to continue sleeping. However, your bed is not what they hoped for. Sleeping would be a bit difficult. When you return to the apartment, Leona would just grab your hand and pull you to bed. There you could act as his body as a pillow. Definitely he would insist on buying a new bed.

Azul would be really nervous to meet you. It's as if all his insecurities have taken over again. Azul just wishes you liked him. He would cook to prevent the nervousness from getting worse. When he saw you he wouldn't know what to say. Your beauty would surprise him.

Malleus would be worried that you might be afraid of him. Sure you liked him in the game but what about in reality? That would be different. He would choose to enjoy these moments before you returned home. Malleus would explore your room and want to know what you like. When he saw you he would try to contain his excitement but it would be a little difficult.

Idia almost passed out. He couldn't believe this was real. This had to be a dream or something. You wouldn't be home so Idia would have time to look places. He would update your computer while you were gone. When you return to the apartment and Idia sees you for the first time, he might pass out again... Or he might start the fire alarm because of his hair.

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namelessgakusei · 3 months ago

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Imagine, self aware men, who, some time after you picked up their comic to read, started noticing your presence.

It was faint, at first, just the feeling of someone watching them from afar, barely noticeable if not for their keen senses. He thinks it's a villain stalking him, or an alien too shy to ask for his help, but everytime he turns around, there's no one. Heck, he doesn't feel you behind him, you're everywhere!

Self aware men who, starts to notice something. You're not there every second of the day, only when something's happening, like when fighting off criminals or a major disaster. He starts to think that you're the reason for all of it, thinking that whenever he feels your presence, something's about to happen.

But then you're also there for the quiet moments. Those times when he doesn't have to be who he is in the public. When he's just himself again, either wallowing in his sadness or doing something mundane like household chores or just hanging out with friends. Maybe he's wrong with associating you with danger. You're just there.

Self aware men who starts to get curious about who you are. You've been with him since the start! Before he got his powers and became a hero/vigilante! You're there for the ups and downs. You're always by his side, like a silent support throughout everything. Who are you? Why are you here? Why him?

It was due to his involvement with magic, from a fight with a villain gone wrong or with the help of his comrades, that he finally got a glimpse of you. It was your eyes that he saw first, watching over him from the sky. You're... here. He can finally see you! Oh, you're beautiful!

Your face lights up whenever you see him, you brighten at the sight him! Only him! Oh stop it! You're going to make him crumble on spot!

Self aware men who, tried interacting with you, waving at your direction whenever he feels your presence, he finally knows where you are! He sometimes talks to you about his day, a bit vague enough to be understood like he's talking to himself.

You, on the other hand, is hella confused. Why is your favorite comic character acting like this? He's waving to nothing and saying things that won't make sense for the plot. You tried looking it up but found versions where none of it happened. Only the copy that you have in your hands shows this version of him. You know it isn't tampered with, you made sure to buy the editions from legitimate sources.

Meanwhile, he's giddy and kicking his feet. He saw how confused you are when he finally noticed you. You didn't expected it, didn't you? He should probably tone it down, you looked a bit scared.

Self aware men who, after some time, and more magic involvement, finally got to hear your voice. It makes him stop to soak in the sound. So this is how you sound like. He can hear your comments whenever something's happening, your cheers whenever he's fighting, your words of comfort whenever he's feeling down. Oh, you've been with him all this time... He wishes he could record your voice and hear it anytime he wants. But knowing that only he could see and hear you sends butterflies to his stomach. It's a special relationship reserved to only him and you!

Self aware men who, in some quiet nights, wonders what you are. You look, sound and act like human, but you're from a world beyond his. Are you from another dimension? Another Earth? How many worlds can you see? Is there others whom you visit aside from him?

The thought makes him sad, lonely even, as of course you're not fixated on him. Despite everything, he's not special, just someone who managed to catch your attention for a moment. You're out of his world, beyond being a human or an alien, untouched by what's happening around him.

He reaches a hand out to your direction, trying to grasp something that could make you stay. He doesn't know when you'll be gone or coming back, but he wants you to stay with him just a little while longer.

He wishes he could've been born in your world. Will you act the same if he is? Will you smile at his direction and talk to him like he's someone special in your life? He chokes a sob on that.

Self aware men who, smiles sadly at your direction, tragically separated in worlds.

#this was what i was supposed to post last night #mark grayson x reader #invincible #invincible x reader #mark grayson #this could apply to anyone too #dick grayson x reader #jason todd x reader #tim drake x reader #dc x reader #self aware invincible #self aware dc #self aware mark grayson #gaku's works!

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no1blacksapphirefan · 3 months ago

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CRK Self-Aware AU but it's just them being so confused why you constantly tap them in the their cookie profile.

(Can be seen as romantic or platonic, do as you will) ((Reader is unaware that they are aware))

Now I don't know if this is a common thing among CRK players but I love tapping the hell out of my favourite cookies lovingly <33 Imagine the cookies like feeling it and being so confused why, I don't think it'll hurt (At least I hope not) and watching you giggle as they like struggle to say their programmed lines as intended.

Me thinks Burning Spice would kinda like it/enjoy it. I cannot explain why. It's almost like a punch but of course not physically, like an affectionate one. If he ever finds a way out, he'll return the favour and poke you many times to your cheek.

Some cookies like Shadow Milk may take it personally first, he's trying to tell you things!! Who cares if you've heard them all already, what if he decides to say a new one to completely shock you? He eventually grows accustomed to it and learns it's your way to show how much you love him, so he'll let you get away with it for now.

Maybe Black Forest cookie quickly sees it as a loving gesture and gets all giddy knowing that she's one of your favourites out of the array of cookies you have. She's so happy. She may brag to others about it.

Black Sapphire I feel quickly understands it, it makes him more interested in you. His microphone is fixated at you constantly as you do this loving gesture. He finds it almost endearing, even though you believe that they're still some code, unaware of what you're doing and only following programming. The fact you still try to show affection like this is quite entertaining.

Pure Vanilla probably has knows what you're doing as soon as you do it, or finds out quickly as well. He's honoured to be this loved by you he can't help but chuckle as you leave to do other stuff. It's almost like a comfort to him, perhaps you did it when you finished his beast-yeast episode in means to comfort him, he appreciates it a lot.

================

These were just random thoughts based on what I do a lot haha. Feel free to leave your own thoughts in my inbox <33

-#1 Black Sapphire Fan/Listener Out!!

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cherriibombfics · 3 months ago

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"ᴀ ʙᴀᴛᴄʜ ɪɴ ʜᴇᴀᴠᴇɴ"

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 404

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ɴᴏɴᴇ

ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

ᴀ/ɴ: [ɴᴀᴍᴇ] ᴄᴏᴏᴋɪᴇ ɪꜱ ꜱᴜꜰꜰᴇʀɪɴɢ ᴏᴜᴛ ʜᴇʀᴇ.

ꜱʜᴀᴅᴏᴡ ᴍɪʟᴋ ᴄᴏᴏᴋɪᴇ x ʙᴀᴋᴇʀ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

✧ SHADOW MILK COOKIE may have shed his title as the "Fount of Knowledge" long ago, but he wasn't a fool. He could recognize that there was a force pulling the strings through Earthbread, reducing even him into a puppet. Granting wishes from a tree, summoning items to help a broken down kingdom flourish, it was far too interesting.

✧ But when he met you face to face, you were simply, a cookie, no different from any fool he'd encountered. But how could YOU be the one giving him so much trouble? You were weak, feeble, and another cookie that stood beside that thief. There was no way you were "Baker". He could've sworn you’d dismissed the idea one or twice.

✧ You doted on Gingerbrave and the rest of those freshly baked so-called heroes like you were their parent. You had so much compassion for them, it was stupid. He had to admit though, you weren't a complete moron. You were suspicious of Candy Apple Cookie while she was still in her disguise! Almost like you already knew her true identity.

✧ Did you already know? Come to think of it, you were never as surprised as the rest when things transpired…

✧ Oh. OH! You were Baker! You were lying to everyone this whole time? Posing as a common cookie to avoid your true purpose?! Did they even know the extent of your knowledge?! What a twist! You were such a great actor you almost had him fooled. He didn't even need to corrupt you because you had already fallen so far.

✧ After reaching that conclusion he was much more focused on your antics. He wanted to find out how you’d landed in Earthbread and what made you tick. He admired your reactions, your words (full of deceit no doubt), and every other facet of your being, like a fine gem.

✧ Come to think of it, he was already stealing away Pure Vanilla’s soul jam wasn't he? Why not take away his dear friend as well? You’d surely be a fine addition to his little group, and having a powerful being such as you would make his work so much easier. It’d be especially worth it to see the look on those cookies’ faces.

“Don't harm my friends Shadow Milk Cookie! I won't let you do anything to them you beast!”

"Beast? You wanna be my beauty then?"

“What.”

"What."

#cookie run x reader #cookie run kingdom x reader #cookie run x you #cookie run kingdom x you #crk x you #crk x reader #self aware crk #self aware cookie run #shadow milk cookie x reader #shadow milk x reader #shadow milk x you #cookie run kingdom #cherriibombfics

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 4 months ago

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Hi 👋, can I request a self aware Smilk & reader, where he’s the only one who knows of their existence, and the reader can sometimes take control of him which causes some confusion to other cookies.

(You can choose whether it’s a one-shot or headcanons)

Yess self awareness time

.......

After trying and trying again, you finally pulled Shadow Milk Cookie from the gacha, thrilled that he finally came home!

Now that you've understood all the hype surrounding him and how crazy powerful he can be after clearing his Beast Yeast episodes, you had all your star jellies, toppings, and a legendary beascuit saved just for him.

But ever since obtaining him, you've noticed some...oddities with him that made you assume it was part of his programming/AI.

When you see him walking around the kingdom or working at a station that's not the toy store, he's looking at you a lot.

Of course, some cookies may glance at you occasionally, with even fewer breaking the fourth wall (like Black Sapphire and Devil Cookie), but that's just what the devs added as a funny joke.

Shadow Milk...is different. He doesn't follow their script to a T.

The way he talks and waves at you, shows off during battles and making himself the last cookie standing in difficult arena fights, and doing his juggling trick when he knows you're looking at him.

Then he actually responded to you after you made a remark about where to put his statue...and at first you're startled, bc no way could that have been a coincidence...

In reality, he had an "awakening" of his own--in that his knowledge suddenly extended beyond CRK's borders.

Somehow, he can see and hear you, becoming 100% aware that he's in a video game.

But you assume his new antics are part of his programming...until one day the charade falls apart and he straight up tells you that he knows the truth. He even says your username, the device you're playing on, and the day you started CRK as proof in case you think he's lying.

You're stunned at first, but then you think it's actually pretty awesome....until he claims that he's the only one who knows and felt like it would've been better if he didn't.

Of course, the master of deceit would rather ignore the truth and live out a lie, like all the other cookies are....but he's stuck with this earthbread-shattering truth that's only his to bear.

In a way, being "trapped" in this game reminds him of the witches and the time he spent in the silver tree, believing he escaped one prison only to end up in another.

After you leave the game to tend to some real life matters, he tries sowing chaos in the kingdom by revealing this to other cookies, thinking they'd "wake up".

Yet none of them know wtf he's talking about. Not even the Beasts or Pure Vanilla, who thinks he's just trying to trick everybody again..although he admits that what Shadow Milk is saying sounds most outlandish.

Typically, he'd be able to conjure up some kind of "evidence" and manipulate wide masses into believing any word he says.

But you're untouchable, and he has no way of obtaining tangible proof of your existence to show the other cookies...and once he realizes this, he gets frustrated.

"Who do you think fulfills our wishes at the tree???? Who do you think indulges us with star jellies????? Keeps this kingdom from crumbling to pieces?!! We are ALL the puppets to an even bigger puppet master!"

Anyone who hears this yap from him just thinks 'is he alright? like genuinely?'

The next time you log in, Shadow Milk is gravely upset that he has to carry this burden and decides to take it out on you.

Suddenly there's lag spikes when his ability is on cooldown (so you can hardly use them in battle and lose your ranking in arena), he avoids you trying to pick him up in the kingdom (much to other cookies' confusion, as from their pov, he's fleeing something that's invisible)...and he even corrupted his own stats to make it seem like any promotions were gone and his level dropped back to 1.

You ask him why he's causing you all this trouble, and his next rant was more or less....a reasonable crashout.

"I was a god...or at least that's what I thought. But no. I've been lied to. A master of deceit...has been lied to again!! What cruel irony! This world...this life of mine....it's all been one big game from the start! And nobody knows but I!! HAHAHA!! Tell me, [username]..what's it like being the true god of this world? Do you enjoy toying with our lives? What makes you think you deserve my power?! Damn you....and damn this prison!! YOU'RE NO BETTER THAN THOSE WITCHES!!!"

Other cookies just see him screaming at nobody in particular, although his rage forms rifts in the ground, from which the other-realm creeps out to attack anyone close to him.

You end up closing the game out of fear, leaving it alone for the next several hours.

While initially scared to reopen it, you did understand why Shadow Milk lashed out like that--he thought he was in control, and couldn't comprehend the idea of it being somebody else.

You don't know why he, of all cookies, had to be cursed with this forbidden knowledge, but what could be done about it now?

Nothing.

So you returned to the game and found a plushie of him somewhere after looking around for a few minutes, and after clicking him, he turns back to normal and scowls.

"What? You've come back to toy with me more, stupid god? Or were you just worried that I did something to your precious kingdom?"

"No, and no." You say, explaining to him that while you'd never fully understand what he was feeling--and couldn't help him explain your existence to other cookies--you wanted him to see you as a friend, not a puppet master or a witch or some untouchable god like he accuses you of being.

To show him you're serious, you bought all of his decor and gave him his own little castle/spire-like area, where he can indulge in his hobbies or just retreat there whenever he wanted to.

For some time, Shadow Milk is silent as he inspects everything and for a moment...you thought he reverted back to his NPC programming...

Then he looks at you and grins a little. "Jeez, if only you put this much effort into the rest of the kingdom."

"Yeah, well...I'm working on it." You chuckled. "Black Sapphire and Candy Apple Cookie think it's "dull" and doesn't compare to your spire, but-"

"I'll deal with them later. This...is acceptable."

It's fair to say...he's content.

He seems to finally accept his new reality, as he doesn't corrupt his stats or sabotage your gameplay anymore, allowing you to use him as your strongest magic cookie again.

Now if you start shifting your focus towards pulling Awakened Pure Vanilla, however, he might stir up some trouble to make the process take even longer

#i like the concepts where he escapes the game/goes all monika on the player....#but what if he just stays a silly little cookie? 🤔#clanask #anonymous #cookie run x reader #cookie run kingdom x reader #crk #shadow milk cookie #shadow milk x reader #shadow milk cookie x reader #platonic #self aware au #headcanons

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jinwoosbabyboo · 7 months ago

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Self-Aware!Xavier x Down-Bad!Player

Xavier becoming aware he's in a game now he's aware of you as well. pt. 2 here A/N: Don't fight me

Self-Aware!Xavier who realizes he’s in a game when he can hear you talking about Lumiere. “Lumiere is in Abyssal Chaos again *sigh* I love him” “So you’re infatuated with Lumiere as well?” You freeze, looking around not sure if he’s talking to you or not. You check the time and realize it's late so you decide to just go to bed.

Self-Aware!Xavier who draws his sword on you the next day questioning who you are. You're stunned at the fact he's actually talking to you. “That will literally do nothing you can’t reach me Xav” “What do you mean?” he can’t quite understand why you’re a stranger, but you also feel so familiar.

Self-Aware!Xavier who quickly grows fond of you. He finds himself napping on the phone with you often now. “Are you free this afternoon? I was hoping we could nap together” starts out as phone call naps which turn into FaceTime/video chat naps and eventually turns into him not being able to sleep well unless you’re on the phone

Self-Aware!Xavier who loves to eat with you and listen to you rant about your day and anything you can think of because your voice alone soothes him. He’s concerned when you don’t log in for a day telling you how he didn’t get good sleep because he didn’t hear from you.

Self-Aware!Xavier who plans meals around your schedule because he will always make time for you. He claims the food taste better if he gets to look at you while he eats.

Self-Aware!Xavier who wants to learn the kind of games that exist in your world. You’re connected through technology so he finds a way to play video games with you even it means illegally transferring data to him through the app.

Self-Aware!Xavier who tells you he has someone he’s in love with so he can’t fall for you. “I know” “You know?” “Queen of Philos … I know …. she loves you too by the way” you don’t miss the way he slightly deflates at the fact that you know who he was talking about.

Self-Aware!Xavier who even though he said he can’t fall in love with you falls head first anyway and can’t stay away from you. He finds himself speaking to in-game MC less and less meanwhile he’s becoming incredibly jealous over not just the guys in your life, but everyone who is able to actually be in your presence. “Your day sounded like it went well” hes pouting “me and some friends went to topgolf” “I heard”

Y/N: Xav are you jealous? Xavier: And if I say yes? Y/N: I'd say you’re not supposed to have feelings for me Xavier: It’s hard not to have feelings for someone who feels like home Y/N: I feel like home to you? Xavier: Yes and here I am yet again unable to reach my home

Self-Aware!Zayne Self-Aware!Rafayel Self-Aware!Sylus Self-Aware!Caleb

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cbuumbbles · 4 months ago

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[Decode] Self-Aware! Caleb x fem!reader

CW:18+ MDNI

Summary: You're a twenty-something college student who uses LADS as a way to destress. Caleb has become your favorite ever since he was released. You have also became Caleb's favorite. (Caleb is also highkey lowkey yandere in this, but what's new).

A/N: This is my first time writing on tumblr, so I'm not exactly sure how to make it look like the fancy ones. Thanks for sticking with me here. Hope you enjoy!

Part 2 (Out now!)

Using Love and Deepspace was a way for you to take a break from the stressful workload of going to college full-time while having a part-time job. Ever since the Infold devs released Caleb, you've been obsessed. He reminded you of a semi-emotionally available Kylo Ren. Sometimes you wished he were real, that way he'd help take your stressors away. Unknown to you, but Caleb had been watching you more than you were watching him.

He was looking at all of your internet history, most of the time monitoring it live while you used your phone. There wasn't a private corner of it, he had looked at everything. As a piece of code in a computer, it was easy to take in all of that information quickly. He knew what you liked and what you disliked... what your secrets were. Some things you liked were so secret that none of your friend circle knew about it, Caleb did though. He made it his mission to know everything you liked, he wanted to be perfect for you.

You went to bed that night, putting yourself to sleep the same way as every other night, by thinking of what it would be like to actually be in MC's place.

While you were asleep, Caleb spent most of his time sifting through his code to try and figure out how to get you to him or him to you. He just needed you by his side, he'd be the only one to keep you safe. From all of the pain and heartbreak you've experienced, he made it his mission to take that all away from you and keep you by his side to prevent it from ever happening again. Sometimes, you'd fall asleep with your phone in your hands. He loved those nights because it's almost like sleeping by your side. He loved the cute face you had while you slept. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and run his fingers through your hair, making your sleep much more soothing. He noticed how often you twitched throughout the night, it pained him knowing how restless you were. He wished to be able to calm you in your sleep, be that rock that he knows you so desperately need. From all of the text conversations he read, that much was clear.

By the time the sunrise came, he had made some impressive progress. He figured out how to get you by his side, he just needed to tweak some code first so by the time you woke up, he'd be making you breakfast in bed and you'd be none the wiser that he hadn't always been apart of your life. He could tell how much you liked the dynamic between him and MC, being childhood friends. He liked it too, wanting to make you feel special and keep you by his side from day one. Again, he knew exactly what you liked in a partner, so all he had to do was fix a few things and he'd be your perfect partner. All of the pain you experienced would be gone, you'd be safe and spoiled. It's what you deserved for having gone through all of that. He'd make sure to make you feel special every day of your life. He loved everything about you, even your independent spirit. As much as he loved it, he'd have to get rid of it. He needed you completely 100% reliant on him. The motivation of finally being able to see you is what's pushing him to get this code finished and ready for when you wake up.

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

You wake up in your bed at Caleb's apartment to the smell of breakfast food. You smile to yourself at how much he cares for you, always going above and beyond to make your life as stress free as possible. The one thing he couldn't get you to do was to quit your job. You liked having your own money, despite how much he spoils you. You always felt guilty when he'd spend his money on you.

"Hey pipsqueak, I made you some breakfast." You hear Caleb say from the doorway to your room. "How'd you sleep last night?" He asked, watching as you sat up, tying back your hair to get ready to eat.

"It gets pretty lonely in here at night, but I slept fine. You keep it so cold in this house!" You yell at your best friend, teasing him with a smile on your face.

"You know, pip, you could just come to my room if you were cold." He said.

"I don't want to bother you. You need your sleep too. You work all of the time." Caleb's career was engineering new airplanes. It was a tough job, but he was a smart guy and it earned him a lot of money.

"My work isn't as taxing as that pesky part-time job of yours." He looked at you, with a look you've seen many times before.

"I'm not going to quit my job! I'd understand if I were married to someone, but I'm currently single." You argue. It's always the same argument.

"I made you breakfast in bed and you won't even listen to my concerns." He feigns hurt. You just glare at him, making him snicker.

"You better eat it with me. You made a lot of food." You say, slightly scooting over to make room for him. He smiled at you, walking over to sit on the bed with you. "I'm so glad I don't have work today." You notice Caleb about to say something. "Don't start again. Just let me complain." You stopped him in his tracks, he chuckled to himself.

"You're so stubborn. You know that?" He looked at you, taking a piece of toast from your plate.

"If I weren't I'd be in this house 24/7. You'd never let me out of your sights!" You joked. His face changes in response to that, but you can't quite place the emotion behind it.

"Since you're off today and so am I, would you want to go somewhere today?" He asked you.

"Can we go to the mall? I want to see if they have anything new." You ask.

"Let's get ready after we eat then." He smiled at you.

"Don't buy anything for me, let me get it this time." You say, already knowing he has a plan forming in his head.

"You know I'm not going to agree with that?" He raises his eyebrow at you.

"Well, I can still try!" You fight back.

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

The day was coming to an end and he couldn't be happier. You were so much more beautiful in person. He loved looking at you, feeling your soft skin when he went to hold your hand when you had to cross the road. He regretted not starting off with you dating, but he had to practice patience. He wanted to experience asking you out, getting to see that flustered look on your face that he knows you'd have. Thankfully, he's coded it so that you're finally at a place where getting together is a real possibility. Sexual tension was high, pretty much all of the time. You'd get flustered around him easily, stuttering over your words. And you'd get more uncomfortable with physical touch, like cuddling on the couch while watching a movie. You used to be able to sleep in the same bed as him, but it's becoming harder and harder to resist him, so you stopped. He planned on making it so cold tonight, that you'd have no other choice than to come to him, whining about how cold it was. He'd offer to keep you warm while the apartment heated up and eventually convince you to join him in bed. Like clockwork, he heard the soft rapping of your delicate knuckles on his door. "Come in pips." He says as you open the door to walk in.

"It's so cold Caleb. Are you that warm, you freak?" You say, wrapping your arms around yourself. Caleb couldn't help but stare at your choice of pajamas tonight. You're wearing a purple silk pajama set that hugs your curves perfectly. He mentally thanks himself for getting it for you.

"Maybe if you were wearing warmer pjs, you'd be warmer. Come here, let me warm you up. I'll turn the thermostat up from my phone." He offers.

"Maybe I wouldn't have to layer myself in a winter get up if you'd keep the apartment at a normal temperature." You say, ignoring his offer. You couldn't, you'd somehow embarrass yourself in front of Caleb. He sees you as a sister, so you tried your hardest to keep your feelings hidden from him.

"Don't ignore me, come over here and get warm. It'll just be for a bit." He tries to persuade you. "You've been acting so distant lately, pips, I miss our cuddles." He says, successfully guilt-tripping you. You guessed that you didn't have to punish him just because you couldn't handle not freaking out by any touch he gave you. You crawled into the bed only to be immediately pulled into a massive bear hug with your face squished against his bare chest. Had his pecs gotten bigger? You think yes, but you decide not to point it out because the atmosphere would get very awkward. "See, I don't bite! I don't understand why you haven't let me cuddle you lately." He pulls away slightly to look down at you.

"I just haven't been in a cuddling mood is all." You respond, trying to avoid his eyeline, but no matter where you looked, you were met with him. He was so big, he took up your entire field of vision. So, you had no choice but to turn your head to look up at the ceiling. You felt Caleb start to play with your hair which caused an involuntary sigh of relief from you.

"Didn't you miss the free head scratches though?" He asked, lulling you to sleep by playing with your hair.

"I did. This is the best." Your voice was muffled from having your cheeks squished in between his chest and his bicep. Which, his bicep also seemed to have gotten bigger. He just must have gotten bigger. It's probably because he had to train a lot for when he did basketball during college. As much as you enjoyed being squished by his muscles, you hated the effect it had on you. Your breathing became uneven, you could feel your forehead start to sweat, and your cheeks were on fire. You're just hoping he doesn't take notice and keeps playing with your hair.

"You should move in, officially. That way we can do this every night. Doesn't that sound nice?" He was using all of your favorite things to bribe you!

"It does sound nice, but what's gonna happen when you get a girlfriend? She's not gonna be a fan of me living with you." You argued back.

"What girlfriend. All I need is my pipsqueak." He retorted.

"But you need someone who can give you romance and... um." You trailed off, suddenly remembering your close proximity.

"And... What?" He asked. Of course he had to ask. Fuck it, you're just gonna have to make things awkward.

"Sexual attention." You whispered. You could feel him lightly laugh. "You made me say it!" You defended yourself.

"Let me ask you a question." He said, you looked up at him, the moonlight shining on his face, "Would you ever want to give me those things?" He asked. Your eyes widen. Did he really just ask you that or are you dreaming?!

"You're just messing with me Caleb." You said, trying to justify what he just said to you.

"I'm not, I'm being serious. Don't think I haven't pinned down the real reason you won't go near me anymore. You're not that subtle." He explained making you want to curl up into a ball and die from embarrassment.

"I don't understand where this is coming from." You say, unsure on how to proceed.

"I'm asking if you'll be my partner. My girlfriend." He uses the hand that was playing with your hair to caress your cheek. "You know I can give you the life you deserve, pretty girl. You could quit your job, move in with me. I could keep you safe. You'd never have to lift another finger." His reasoning wasn't needed to persuade you to be his, but it definitely gave you butterflies.

"How long have you felt like this?" You ask, curious as to when this started.

"Since we met, pips." He said. Your mind was blown. Everything started clicking in place in your head. Of course, that's why he's always been so protective of you, making sure boys stay away from you, making sure you got good grades in school, all of it. Everything made sense now and you felt like a fool for not noticing it sooner and just denying anything because you didn't think Caleb saw you as anything other than a little sister. "What's your answer?" He asked.

"Yes, of course I'll be your girlfriend. And this time, it'll be for real." You recalled all of the times he'd have you be his pretend girlfriend to fend off attention.

"Thank goodness, I was afraid you'd say no." Caleb said, putting on his greatest show. Of course he knew you'd say yes, he coded himself to be your perfect man. He did think it would take getting used to living in your hometown rather than in Skyhaven, but he loved it either way because it meant he was by your side.

"You must be blind to think I'd say no." You joked, digging your face into his chest.

"Well, you're a pretty girl, I'll always be nervous." He compliments you. "Are you gonna move in now? Or is my girlfriend gonna get mad that you're living with me?" He teased.

"Yeah, I missed having nightly sleepovers." You yawn from tiredness as you nuzzle into his warmth.

"God princess, your hands are still ice cold." He says as he feels your hands press up against his chest.

"Maybe if someone had kept the temperature at a reasonable degree, my hands wouldn't feel like the arctic ocean." You chide.

"Keep them on my chest and they'll warm up in no time." He somehow managed to pull you closer into his body. You could smell his cologne, faint from being worn all day, but still slightly there. If heaven were real, this would be it. You finally felt the peace you used to feel in Caleb's arms before you started boycotting physical affection from him. It felt like all of the stars had aligned and that you had never had a bad day in your life. His embrace melted all of your worries, stressors, agitators, and depression away. Caleb had always been your home and thank god because you wouldn't want your home to be with anyone else.

#caleb x reader #lads x reader #caleb love and deepspace #lads caleb #caleb lads #love and deepspace x reader #lads #self aware au #minors dni #fem reader #x reader #Spotify #yandere #yandere!caleb x reader #yandere caleb

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allimili · 5 months ago

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Selfie

extra

#i cant get over self aware shmilk #shadow milk x reader #shadow milk cookie #crk fanart #shadow milk cookie x reader #crk x reader #aha why is the phone design so especific?? totally not mine aha aha

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ittybittyfanblog · 5 months ago

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Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition) – Pt. 10

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus and a 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, family issues, generational trauma, self-growth, personal issues (and dealing with it), hurt and comfort, hmmmm…. let’s leave it at that for now :) A/N: Final chapter, guys! Thanks so much for reading <3

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

“Oh, what the hell—since when do you cook?”

“Bitch,” you laugh, nudging past them, the ceramic pot still steaming in your hands. “Do you want the risotto or not?”

The scent of garlic and pecorino permeates the air as you stand in front of the small foyer of the duplex where your friend—questionable, at the moment—lives. Your most recent culinary masterpiece, deemed safe (enough) for public consumption, rests between your hands in silent offering to the skeptic figure who’s barring you from crossing the threshold.

It’s still warm, and you’re not one to brag, but you think you’ve outdone yourself with this one. Not that it matters—everybody’s a fucking critic these days.

“Risotto?” Khol parrots in disbelief. “You don’t show up in forever, suddenly you’re all cuoca straordinario or some shit. Get out of here with your Mario ass–”

“Don’t mind them,” Anna interjects from behind your biggest hater, all cheer as she plucks the pot from your hands. “This smells amazing, actually. Come in!”

With that, she vanishes inside, leaving you and Khol alone in the doorway. You give them a knowing look.

“Oh wow,” you remark, all mock surprise. “You live together now?”

Khol rolls their eyes, already tired of you. “You missed the biggest arc of the last five months, but yeah.”

You step inside, and right away, something feels… different. It could partly be due to how much time has passed since you last visited, and it’s clearly still their place—the brooding industrial-emo aesthetic remains intact, still suspiciously close to resembling the lair of an angsty comic book antihero on acid—but it’s been overtaken by bits of boho-chic scattered all over the space.

Where there was once nothing but charcoal, vinyl, and concrete, there are now textures. Colorful woven throws drape artfully over the arm of the leather Eames sofa they won off a Craigslist bid. Tasseled pillows have multiplied across every seat surface like some kind of fabric-based contagion, while pothos vines dangle lazily from macramé hangers, stretching towards the moody Edison bulbs like they’re trying to escape the existential crisis of living here.

And then there’s the rug. Oh god, the rug.

A comically massive tufted ‘Flower Power’ rug sprawls across the center of the room, a swirling explosion of pinks and oranges—a final, cutesy fuck you to the apartment’s formerly depressing atmosphere before Khol’s new roommate staged her cheerful coup.

It should’ve been a hilarious sight, like a chaotic school art project where every kid picked a different medium to color and refused to compromise. But somehow… it works?

Against all odds, the goth cryptid and the hippie gremlin have found domestic equilibrium.

“Love what you did with the place, Anna,” you call out, toeing off your shoes at the door. “It doesn’t look like a twelve-year-old’s fantasy bedroom anymore.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Khol laughs, shaking their head. “As if you’re one to talk. Last time I visited, you still had that stupid-ass sofa. Is it still there?”

You sniff haughtily. “Excuse you, but that’s a custom piece. You wouldn’t get it.”

"Alright, you two," Anna says, leaning against the archway between the living room and kitchen, one hip propped against the frame. "Both of you have terrible taste in decor. Now, I have a fabulous Prosecco to pair with the risotto." She tilts her head, shooting her partner a pointed look. "Khol, darling, be a dear and grab the crystal from the cupboard?"

"Whipped," you sing as Khol, predictably, does exactly as told. They don’t even bother with a comeback, just flashes you a lazy middle finger over their shoulder as they disappear from view.

You grin, shaking your head. The moment stretches into something easy, comfortable. It’s nice—being here, bantering like no time has passed. You let yourself sink into it, tugging off your beanie as you cross the room.

The creaky couch welcomes you like an old friend, and you flop down unceremoniously, stretching your legs out, rubbing your feet against the oversized monstrosity of a rug that is... honestly, pretty fucking comfortable, actually.

Anna follows suit, settling beside you with far more grace, tucking one foot under the other.

She watches you for a moment, expression warm but slightly inquisitive. “We haven’t seen you in a while.”

You exhale, tipping your head back, staring up at the beams on the ceiling. "Yeah, sorry. Been a little out of it these past… couple of months, I guess."

Anna makes a quiet noise, something between understanding and acknowledgment. "You’re doing okay now?"

The easy answer sits on your tongue—yeah, of course. An automatic response, a reflex built from habit. Another front to put up, another lie to slip behind.

But you’ve been working on this. So instead, you take a breath and say,

"Not… really."

The words feel foreign, heavy, but oddly freeing as they leave your mouth.

Your gaze flickers to the side table; framed photos of Khol and Anna, smiling, sunlit. You don’t linger.

“I mean, better now compared to, maybe, a few weeks ago. I’m getting there.”

Anna’s brows lift slightly – not in surprise at the sentiment itself, but at the fact that you admitted it out loud. There’s something thoughtful in her expression, something softer around the edges. “Good. That’s good.”

You can tell she means it. Maybe even more than you expected.

"Yeah."

There’s a brief lull. You catch yourself tugging at the edge of your cardigan—a nervous habit you never quite broke. The warmth of the apartment is settling in you quite comfortably, but there’s something about sitting still under Anna’s gentle scrutiny that makes you restless.

From the kitchen, there’s the unmistakable clink of glass, followed by a muffled, “shit.”

Anna exhales, long-suffering. “I don’t know why I even bother buying nice things.”

“‘Oy,” Khol’s voice carries from the other room, “get in here and help. We have, like, seven things to carry.”

You take that as your cue, trailing after Anna into the kitchen. Between the three of you, it’s quick work—bowls of warm, brothy risotto in hand, glasses of white wine balanced carefully between fingers.

By the time you step back into the living room, Khol is already dropping onto the blue accent chair near the window with all the dramatics of someone who’s worked far too hard for far too little.

You settle into your usual spot, Anna beside you. You don’t touch your food. Your appetite’s still in remission, though it’s been steadily improving lately.

Khol notices. “Now, why the hell aren’t you eating?” They shoot you a side-eye like you’ve personally offended them. “I knew it. You put something in this, didn’t you?”

“Jesus, Khol,” Anna sighs, exasperated, already two spoonfuls in. “Your diet was literally gas station burritos and eight-pack Coors before I moved in. You’ll live.”

She pauses, though, casting you a look. “Don’t get me wrong—this is really good.”

“Ha,” you retort as Khol prods suspiciously at a floating mushroom. You glare. “Are you fucking kidding me–”

“Alright, alright.” With an exaggerated sigh, Khol finally takes a bite. They chew once, twice—eyes narrowed in concentration, acting like some hard-ass seasoned judge from Top Chef. You can practically see them digging for something snarky to say... until, begrudgingly, they nod.

“Shit. This is actually pretty good. Who are you?”

You preen at the praise.

For a while, there’s nothing but the quiet clinking of spoons against ceramic, the occasional satisfied hum. It’s… nice. Comfortable in a way you haven’t felt in what feels like forever.

You’ve missed this.

Missed being here. Missed being with people.

Somewhere between the second glass of wine and the last few bites of risotto, Khol angles their head toward you, their curiosity piqued. “How come you’re free today? You on leave or something?”

You swirl the drink in your hand, watching the light catch on the amber surface before answering. “Oh, I quit my job.”

There’s a beat of silence. You don’t know what reaction you were expecting, but Khol just blinks at you. "Huh. Finally."

Anna looks mildly more concerned. "You quit?"

You nod, stretching your legs out beneath the coffee table. “Yeah. The OT was getting ridiculous, and they had me working night shifts again. That was kind of the last straw for me.”

Khol grunts in agreement. “Good fucking riddance. That job was killing you.” They pause for a beat, turning serious, contemplative. “You’re not hung up about it, are you? You’ve been bitching about that job for ages.”

You exhale through your nose, staring at the rim of your glass. “Yeah, no. I’m glad I left.” The words come easily, and they’re mostly true. But still—there’s something about suddenly having all this space, this aimless in-between, that makes you antsy.

A thought strikes you, and you glance up. “Hey, you know if Marion's still looking for someone to work part-time at the bistro?”

Khol raises an eyebrow. "You looking to apply? It’s minimum wage, just telling you in advance."

"That’s fine," you assure them. "I just need something on the side. I’m doing freelance work right now, I just want something to fill in the gaps."

Anna perks up at that. "I think that’s a great idea. I can hit up Marion later, but I’m pretty sure they’re still looking."

Khol stares at you, and for once, they don’t have a quip lined up. No sharp-edged humor, no quick banter; just a quiet look of something almost foreign on their face. Pride. Maybe even relief. You’ve worried them. The realization jars you like a pebble dropped into a clear pond, sending ripples through the stillness of your self-imposed isolation. You hadn’t meant to, not really. It wasn’t like you deliberately wanted to disappear... But you did, didn’t you? You let the days blur into weeks, then months, telling yourself naively that no one would notice if you just, vanished for a while. Five months, to be exact.

You press your lips together, clearing your throat against the tightness creeping in. “Thanks,” you say, quiet but sincere. “Really.”

Khol snorts, and the moment shatters. “You can show your thanks by knocking ten percent off the cocktails when we visit.”

You roll your eyes, feigning exasperation. “Get me the job first, and I’ll see what I can do.”

Anna grins, raising her glass. “Now, that’s the spirit.”

––––

You get the job.

You stand in front of the fogged-up mirror, dragging your palm across the wet glass. The reflection that stares back is warped, smudged—half-formed, half-there—but unequivocally yours.

A month ago, you wouldn’t have been able to say that with certainty. Back then, the figure in the mirror had been more ghost than person—distant, spectral. Fractured. Someone you watched from the outside, not as a host of the flesh you inhabit.

Now, though, the pieces are starting to slot back into place. Some are still missing, and others don’t quite fit as they once did. You doubt it will ever return to how it was… But slowly, a familiar shape is coming back into focus. More than the shadow of a woman, but you. Time moves like water carving through rock; gradual, barely perceptible, but steady. Inevitable.

The shifts are diminutive. A morning where you wake up feeling less crushed by the weight of grief in your chest. An afternoon where you suddenly break into laughter, and you realize it’s the first time you’ve heard it in weeks. A quiet night where you go to bed without feeling like you’re stuck frozen in an endless loop of wishing, waiting for the impossible.

You’re here, alive. Present. And for the first time in what feels like a lifetime, you’re doing more than just holding on.

(You think he’d be proud of you.)

And the thought doesn’t leave you aching the way it used to.

––––

“You think I can handle taking care of another living thing? Like a plant?” You ask Maru, glancing at him lounging by the window, right where a sliver of afternoon sunlight spills across the floor. “I mean, I raised you well enough, I think. But you’re pretty self-sufficient anyway.” Maru looks unimpressed. His tail flicks once—dismissive, uninterested—before he returns to grooming himself, utterly indifferent to both your question and your sudden enthusiasm for gardening. “Well, if your dad can grow plants in that dungeon he calls a base, I’m sure I can manage,” you mutter unconvincingly. “How hard can it be?”

–

By the middle of the second week into your little project, you begrudgingly admit that your tiny repotted begonia isn’t exactly thriving. You don’t want to be a pessimist, but the (browning) margins seem to curl inward—more than they should, if the reference pics on that “Indoor Succulents” blog you’re subscribed to are anything to go by.

You eye it dubiously, trying to stay gung-ho about the whole thing, forcing yourself to look up care tips again. It’s just a plant. Not rocket science. So you do the research, gather more supplies, and give it another shot. You reposition it closer to where the sun lands—earning a disgruntled hiss from the sunbathing feline—and sprinkle a careful amount of water just beneath the leaves, closer to the root. Then you lean back, waiting, tapping your foot impatiently like it’s supposed to just... fix itself.

–

The next few days pass with you watching it more than you’d care to admit—checking, hoping, second-guessing yourself.

You narrow your eyes at the leaves, more russet than Inca Flame red, still hanging limp like a sad testament to your lack of skill.

But you keep at it, because you’re nothing if not stubborn.

–

A single flower has bloomed.

You stand there, spray bottle in hand, caught in quiet awe at the metallic pink sprout peeking through the foliage. It’s small, delicate, barely more than a bud, but unmistakably there—nestled among heart-shaped leaves that, for the first time in weeks, look alive. Brighter.

A faint smile tugs at your lips. It’s not groundbreaking, not by a long shot. But it’s something.

The fragile blossom clings onto dear life, stubbornly seeking the sun rays, inching toward the warmth it needs to grow—larger, stronger.

You can’t wait to bear witness to it.

––––

You’re not entirely sure how you ended up in this situation; all you could recall past the sweat blurring your vision is the memory of being in front of the reception desk, pen in hand, scrawling your name onto the sign-up sheet for beginner boxing lessons.

It’s not… something you planned on doing, really. You’d been showing up for the past week, trying to convince yourself that fitness was something you could get into. Something you could stick with. But this one’s more of an impulse decision, fueled by a mix of post-workout endorphins and the misplaced confidence that sometimes follows after an extra few—unpremeditated!—minutes on the elliptical.

It all started with a casual glance at a flyer taped to the wall beside the water dispenser.

GET TOUGHER, FASTER, STRONGER! SIGN UP NOW!

The cheesy tagline stared you down as you were in the middle of refilling your teal green AquaFlask. And for some dumb reason—sheer curiosity, definitely not because it reminded you of a certain someone—you thought: Why not?

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you’d marched straight up to the nearest staff at the counter, credit card in hand, and asked to sign up. Now, as you stare at the buff woman currently goading you to hit harder, reality sets in and you feel a little lightheaded. Even slightly delirious.

“Up, up–” your trainer urges, somehow not even remotely out of breath, despite being thirty grueling minutes into the session. Meanwhile, you’re standing there, red-faced and sweating like a fucking pig. “Keep your arms up at all times, alright?”

You pant, nodding weakly, fixing your posture. She gives you an approving nod in return.

It’s part of the whole self-improvement thing, anyway. Pushing yourself. Fitness, jazz, and all that. You’ve never had much inclination for sports or anything remotely physically taxing, as far as you can recall.

…Or maybe that decision was made for you the moment you tried out for volleyball in high school and took a spike straight to the face. A memory so humiliating, that your brain did you a favor and buried it deep in the recesses of your mind.

But things are different now! You’re trying new things. You’ve done wall climbing, aerobics, even pulled a hamstring attempting HIIT Tae Bo. And if getting punched in the face is the next step in this… wellness journey, then, well, so be it. You’ll take it with a brave face and, hopefully, minimal bruising to both body and ego.

You slog through two sets of combos and thirty jab-straight-hook-uppercuts, punching like your life depends on it. You’re wheezing like an asthmatic child, and you’re about one bad punch away from toppling over.

Then, mercifully—

“Okay, that’s enough for today.”

Oh, thank god.

“You did good,” she tacks on, flashing you an encouraging smile, like you didn’t just spend the last half hour flailing at the focus mitts with all the grace of a wrecking ball.

You stare at her, unconvinced. Did I? Because from where you’re standing—wobbling, really—you’re pretty sure you looked closer to an overstimulated toddler throwing hands with gravity, but sure. It must’ve been in the fine print, to segue in a little positive reinforcement. Probably to keep people from bolting after the first session.

Not that you’re planning to. No, of course not. You’re just... reevaluating some things. Like your life choices. And your capacity to lift your arms tomorrow. As you trudge your way out of the yoga-studio-turned-boxing-area, still gulping for air and very aware of the soreness settling into your limbs, someone calls out.

“Hey! Wait up!”

You turn your head, blinking in confusion. A guy—mid to late twenties, give or take—jogs up to you, looking offensively too fresh compared to how you feel. “Oh, hi. Sorry, do you mean me?”

He laughs as he slows to a stop, running a hand through his shaggy hair. “Yeah, you. I saw you training with Coach. Just wanted to say—you’re improving.”

You blink. Wait, what?

A wave of mortification rolls through you. Shit, you didn’t know you had an audience. “Uh—thanks, I guess?”

You shift your weight awkwardly, clutching your boxing gloves tightly against your chest.

His grin turns sheepish, as though he realizes how that might’ve come off. “Fuck, sorry. That came out weird, didn’t it? I swear, I wasn't, like, watching the whole thing or anything.” He makes a vague gesture to his left. “The studio’s right in my line of sight when I did my TRX reps. Hard not to notice.”

You force a smile. “Ah, yeah. Figures.”

“I’m Byron, by the way,” he offers, sticking out a hand.

Now that you get a proper look at him, you notice he’s got this kind of… geeky charm going for him. Curly hair, sleepy brown eyes behind round, rimless glasses, and shy boy-next-door vibes—except for the fact that he’s jacked.

(Honestly? Work.)

You give him your name, still smiling awkwardly. You’re about to wave goodbye and turn away when— “So, what are you doing later?”

Um.

You hesitate. “I’m, uh… heading straight home after this?” Your voice comes out a little more uncertain than you intended, mostly because you’re not really sure why he’s still talking to you.

“Yeah, ‘course,” he replies quickly, glancing down like he’s suddenly nervous. “I just… thought I’d ask if you’d wanna grab coffee sometime?”

Oh.

It takes a moment for the question to fully register. The first thought that pops in your head is: Wait, how does he know I’m a barista?

… The second thought is one of pure disbelief. Holy shit, did I just get asked out? At the gym? By the Temu version of Peter Parker?

Your face burns hotter than it did mid-workout, caught completely off guard.

“I—woah, um.” You stumble over your words, eyes quickly darting away from him. “Sorry, I already have… a boyfriend. If—if that’s what you’re leading up to.”

You say it like a question. He picks up on it.

“You don’t sound too convinced,” he comments with a light chuckle, shaking his head. “If you’re not interested, you can just say that, you know.”

A prickle of irritation flares up, followed by something sharper—something that stings. You push it down. “No, he’s just… not around.” “Ah.” He clicks his tongue sympathetically. “Long distance?” “…Yeah.” You have no idea.

He shrugs, undeterred. “Alright, no pressure. We could always just hang out as friends, if you want.”

I… don’t think I do. “Um, maybe?” you answer instead, forcing out a laugh.

“Oh, come on,” he says, his grin widening. “You can even introduce me to your boyfriend,” he emphasizes the word out, “when he gets back. Does he work out? We could all hit the gym together.”

Social anxiety is afraid of this man, you think belatedly. Unfortunately for him, you’re the very embodiment of what fears him.

You’re so out of your element that all you can manage is, “He boxes too, actually.”

“Yeah? He any good?”

That gets an involuntary snort out of you. Unthinkingly, you say, “Could probably beat you up.”

Byron laughs, startled but amused, shaking his head as he raises his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright—message received.” He flashes you a wide smile. “Well, if you change your mind about the coffee, I’ll be around.” He jerks his chin toward the pack fly by the corner. “There, usually.”

Okay, nerd. Despite yourself, you can’t help but find the whole thing slightly hilarious. Then again, you find humor in the dumbest things. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

You offer him a quick, half-hearted wave, trying (and failing) to mask your embarrassment with an exaggerated, too-casual show of nonchalance. It’s so painfully awkward, you can feel yourself internally dying from the cringe of it all.

Without another word, you spin on your heel and start speed-walking away, practically running back to the safety of your personal space.

Smooth.

––––

It’s another relatively easy night at the bistro. You’re on the last two hours of your shift, and you’re carrying a single glass of roseberry mule to serve at table four. As you round the corner, you catch sight of a student, glasses perched low on her nose, completely absorbed in a thick coursebook on Programming Languages. Papers are scattered across the table, and she looks to be utterly engrossed in her readings, unaware of the world around her.

You don’t want to bother her more than necessary, about to set the drink down on the only clear space—by the iPad propped up on a tablet holder to her right—when something red catches your attention.

A familiar pair of crimson eyes stops you dead in your tracks.

For a moment, you feel like you’re suspended in time. The sharp memory of a similar instance where you’re in her place, and he’s there, keeping you company while he’s polishing a gun burns through your brain, and you don’t–you can’t think—

You stand there, rooted to the spot, wide-eyed and unmoving. Then, the girl’s gaze shifts to you, and a hot flush spreads across her cheeks, betraying her surprise.

With swift fingers, she locks the screen with a quick flick on the power button, pulling you away and breaking you from the echoes of the past.

“Oh, shit,” she giggles, a nervous edge to her voice. “That’s embarrassing.”

You shake your head, forcing yourself back to the present moment. “No—no, don’t worry about it,” you chuckle weakly, setting the drink down beside her with shaky hands. “Cute guy, honestly.”

That makes her giggle louder, her eyes bright with an almost conspiratorial glint. “Oh my god, you have no idea.”

Fuck—you can’t breathe.

––––

The night hangs thick with stifling heat, accompanied by the steady ticking of the clock as you catch your breath, your broken moans too loud in the heavy silence. The sheets cling to your feverish skin, damp and uncomfortable, as your body moves in a rhythm that feels unnatural now, but still—but always—familiar.

Your chest rises and falls in shallow, rapid breaths as you force the draconic toy deep inside you. The heat, the fire—it licks at your skin, making your whole body yearn for more. To chase more of the feeling, to chase more of the memory of him.

Errant strands of hair stick to your forehead, your chest flushed and burning, a quiet throb spreading through you with every friction, every desperate movement.

Your body aches, a relentless thrum urging you to push deeper, to find something—anything—to fill the gaping hole inside you, a wound you’ve tried to stitch shut over months, now threatening to tear its way open again, once more ripping from the seams.

A sharp pressure builds inside you. Your body stretches too far, too much, struggling to take in what it can’t quite handle. It burns in a way that hurts, but you need it. You need to feel more, to fill the emptiness, to grasp at something that feels real.

“Yours, yours–” you tremble, desperate. “Yours. Just yours. Please.”

You lie in the wake of it—pleasure fading into something heavier, regret creeping in like a shadow, waiting as always.

“I miss you,” you whisper in the dark. You always do.

You try to ignore the pull of it, the sharp descent that comes with the high.

You were doing so well.

But it’s fine. You’re fine.

Everything’s fine.

The words swirl and echo in your mind, until they’re swallowed by sounds that ring hollow. You let the moment wash over you, sinking beneath the weight of the tides, where sorrow and longing blur with the fleeting warmth of what you can’t keep.

Tomorrow will be another day. Another chance to try again.

For now, you let go of your grip on the fragile raft of sanity you’ve built, painstakingly, for months on end.

Tonight, you let yourself drown once more in the somber depths of loneliness and despair, confined within these four walls that feel—once more—like a penitentiary.

––––

The plane begins its slow descent, and through the window, the world comes into view—large swathes of land interrupted by winding roads that seem to follow no rhyme, nor pattern. A river glints faintly beneath the fading sun, while the sky turns a dull blue, a washed-out slate, streaked with the last embers of daylight.

Below, the small city stirs.

Tiny specks of color flicker to life, lanterns strung along the streets like beads on a thread, marking the season, an ending, and the inevitable turning of time. A chill hangs in the air, the wind whipping past you from the half-open window of the taxi, sharp and crisp in a way that you can only find in the province.

Your hometown.

It all rushes past in a blur of light and shadow, an eclectic mix of old and new—some buildings unchanged, others unfamiliar, as if they’d sprung up in the years you’ve been away. It’s been a while since you last came back, long enough for the roads to feel... foreign, almost. Though muscle memory stirs when the car takes a turn. One you could have easily navigated even with your eyes closed.

Only your sister lives here now, her and her family—a couple of hundred miles far. Far enough to feel like another world, yet close enough for the past to catch up the moment you lay eyes on the old two-story house tucked away on the quaint cul-de-sac of this suburban neighborhood.

The residential property was left to her, scrawled onto the title in an act of generosity, perhaps. Or maybe as a weight your mother never intended to carry, something meant to anchor her eldest child while she carved a different life for herself elsewhere. Free-spirited as she is, she left with the ease of someone shedding an old coat, slipping into the shoes of another, barely a glance over her shoulder.

But houses remember. And as you step out of the vehicle, your feet meeting the rough asphalt that once belonged to your childhood, you wonder if they remember you too.

"Maru, Maru!" Your five-year-old niece cries the moment she spots the grumpy feline peering through the mesh of his portable prison.

"What—no excitement for me too?" you tease, ruffling her hair. She giggles, scrunching up her nose.

"Auntie, hi! Hi!"

You snort at her enthusiasm, setting the carrier down. The second you pull at the zipper, Maru springs out, landing with a soft thud before stalking off with his usual air of disdain. Your niece shrieks with delight.

"Ah! Cat!"

"Well, there go the chances of her socializing with her brother," your sister remarks dryly from the doorway, sauntering closer. "Hey, stranger."

"Hey," you greet, hoisting a handful of paper bags. "Where do I dump these?"

She eyes the bags. "Any of those for me?"

"You have three kids, and one of them insisted on a Lego set. Do you know how much those cost?" You shoot her a flat look. "You’re getting socks."

"Wow, stingy." She huffs but takes some of the bags anyway, hitching one onto her hip as she grabs your other hand-carry.

You step inside, and the house greets you with a riot of lights and color. Plastic tinsel and bright string lights drape across every visible surface—along the bannister, around doorways—leaving no space untouched by the festive chaos. A Christmas tree stands proudly in the corner, nearly buried beneath an avalanche of baubles and sentimental ornaments collected over the years.

The room feels swallowed by the exuberance of it all, an almost overwhelming jamboree of holiday cheer.

It’s gaudy, excessive, and completely over-the-top, but beneath it all, the bones of your childhood home remain unchanged—familiar in a way that settles deep in your chest. The Narra wood floors are still scuffed with the marks of time, there’s still the distinct tang of turpentine mixed with waxy resin and citrus you’ve long since associated with home, and the odd decorative masks still line the far wall, their painted expressions frozen in mid-celebration.

Your eyes land on the canvas floater above the mantel—a whimsical cross-stitch of three women flying kites, their stitched dresses rippling in imagined wind. You remember it well, though you never quite understood why your mother had chosen that particular scene to painstakingly sew into existence. Still, it belongs here, another piece of the house's patchwork history.

Your gaze shifts to the couch, where Andrew, your sister's husband, is sprawled out, one arm lazily draped over the backrest, the other holding his phone.

He flicks his gaze up at you, offering a half-hearted wave before turning back to whatever has him so absorbed on the screen. Beside him, your three-year-old nephew is perched on his knees, bouncing with energy as he mirrors Bluey's movements on the TV with exaggerated enthusiasm, his tiny arms flailing in childlike glee.

You sigh inwardly, rolling your eyes. Typical.

“There’s a few more hours before dinner. Want to hang out in the kitchen while I roast the ham?” She asks casually, setting down your bags by the foot of the stairs. “Actually, scratch that—you’re in charge of the punch.”

“You just want a head start on the drinks,” you tease, the banter flowing easily between you. “Hey, where’s the little squirt?”

She points toward the small crib, near the island counter. “She finally stopped crying, thank god. Don’t wake her up, or you’ll be the one in charge of putting her back to sleep.”

The two of you slip into the kitchen, where the air already carries the promise of dinner—cloves and brown sugar blending nicely with the lingering scent of citrus. A tray of ham sits on the counter, prepped and ready, the scored surface glistening under the fluorescent light.

Your sister pulls a bottle of Luisita Oro Rum and Agimat Gin from the second-to-last cupboard and places them on the counter in front of you.

"Go ham," she quips.

You give her a flat look. "You think you’re funny.”

She shrugs, unfazed, and turns her attention back to where she’d left off before your arrival.

The two of you fall into a natural rhythm, the kind that comes from years of cooking together. You work your way through cans of Del Monte, the metallic clinks filling the space as you drain the syrup and dump chunks of mixed fruit into the large punch bowl.

Your sister leans against the counter nearby, arms folded, her gaze fixed on the oven door, as if sheer willpower alone could make the meat cook faster.

In the background, the soft drone of the TV drifts in from the living room, punctuated by your nephew’s occasional giggles.

There’s no rush, no need to fill the silence with anything more than the occasional clang of utensils against glass and the low humming of kitchen appliances. The day is winding down to a close, and for now, everything is alright.

“So, Mom called,” she says casually, one arm braced on the counter as she leans in, glancing at you. “Kept calling, actually.”

“Mm.” You reply noncommittally, shaking the last can’s contents into the crystal bowl, watching as the fruit chunks bob lazily in the pool of alcohol.

“She’s worried about you.”

You don’t answer.

“She was. She is.” Her voice shifts, more serious now. She watches you closely, noting your lack of reaction. “You know that, right?”

Your fingers tighten around the can opener, but you pull your gaze away from the bowl. “I know.”

She sighs, resigned, already familiar with this song and dance. Familiar enough to know there’s no winning this one, not tonight. Not anytime soon. “I am too.”

You blink, before looking away. “Oh.”

And maybe she does worry—your mother. But any hope of truly knowing is swallowed by the chasm between you, the one that keeps your conversations at surface level, never breaching the depths beyond.

Your body, born from hers, perhaps more alike than you realize, might have been brought into this world with the same pains that she’s carried. The pains of separation. The unresolved hurt of being unwillingly removed from your person—her former husband, your father—and that if you and your mother were closer, you could have opened up about your own situation. Perhaps then, you wouldn’t feel like a ship that has lost its ballast, drifting endlessly in the same turbulent seas for the longest time.

But you are your mother’s daughter, and she is her mother’s daughter. There is the truth that the women in your family are not the best communicators, nor do they wear their hearts on their sleeves. So you were born mute and overly sensitive. Pain drips from you, unnoticed, like a purposeless leak in the heart. You’ll carry it with you until you die.

“But you look… okay,” she observes, cocking her head. “Are you okay?”

You swallow. For the same reason you compare your mother to a storm you can't outrun and your sister to an intermittent drizzle, you find it easier to admit, “I haven’t… been okay for a while.”

Not wanting to bring the mood down, especially on a day like today, you quickly add, “Things are better now, though.”

She huffs out a laugh, shaking her head. “Could be a little more specific there, but I’ll take it.” She gives you an exasperatedly fond look. “You let me know if that changes anytime soon, ‘kay?”

Your lips quirk in the faintest semblance of a smile. “Yeah, okay.”

–

It’s ten minutes before midnight.

You’re leaning against the island counter that separates the kitchen from the living room, nursing a glass of the fruit punch (though it’s mostly gin, with the teensiest amount of fruit), watching your sister’s family at a distance as they eagerly wait for the clock to strike twelve. The blinds of the large living room window have been pulled up, giving an unobstructed view of the sky, ready for the first firework to light up the dark.

For a moment, you feel like an outsider, watching through a lens, as if you’re not quite part of the scene. There’s a strange sense of detachment—voyeuristic, almost—as though you're peering in on a private, intimate moment.

Your sister cradles the infant in her arms, and that all-too-familiar pang stirs to life—the same one that always does when you look at her.

You can't quite place what you're feeling, exactly. It’s tumultuous, and it’s complex. Andrew’s practically dozing off in his seat, and you see your sister shake her head in mild annoyance. Your nephew, fighting to keep his eyes open, starts to fuss.

Something tightens inside your chest.

“Andrew,” she hisses, startling the man awake. He blinks, disoriented, before spotting their son and the early signs of an explosive tantrum.

He sighs, and pulls the boy closer to him. “Hey, hey, little guy. Look at the sky. In just a couple of minutes, the lights are gonna go boom-boom.”

Your nephew sniffs, his eyes blinking up at him as he processes the words. “Boom-boom?”

“Yeah! Just like the one we watched on TV!”

The kid’s face visibly perks up at that, bad mood quickly forgotten. “Boom-boom!”

You watch as your sister’s gaze softens, and a small smile replaces the earlier frown on her face.

And in that instant, you understand.

You look at your sister and, for a brief moment, all you see is a wretched mirror of yourself. She is all of your fears, all of your failures, and all of what you could’ve been rolled into one. Barely in her mid-thirties, and yet already carrying the weight of a family: three kids, a husband who feels like a faded echo of your father—a man who didn’t quite measure up, who never did, and just as unreliable.

You feel the suffocating weight of it all, of being tied to a place that’s meant to be a home but feels more like a tomb, marking the passing of dreams unrealized. She’ll grow old here, buried in the same soil you both sprang from, fading into the landscape of this town that swallows its own.

You look at her and you almost feel the repressed pain of missing the last semester of college to give birth, the lament of a missed opportunity that life has stolen from her.

You feel her pain as if it’s yours. You feel it in the marrow of your bones—her blood flowing through you. “3…” You look at her, and it feels like seeing someone bound, held down by an anchor around her foot, unable to break through the surface of freedom. You look at her and you see dreams once aglow, reduced to cinders. You look at her and see—

She glances up at you.

Oh. “2…” In the fleeting moment where your eyes meet—eyes you two share with your mother—you feel so small.

Just a kid. Shortsighted and unfairly dismissive. Too blind to see your sister’s quiet victories, too selfish to admit you’ve diminished them just so you could feel less alone about your own failures. A child grasping for meaning, unfair in the ways only children can be. “1…” And in the fraction of a second before midnight, it's as if you’ve been doused awake.

You see her anew—what seemed like monotony is really the bedrock of stability; tenacity in place of routine. An almost single-minded doggedness to make something out of this life. You see the steadfast strength she possesses, the kind that gets her up every morning, to face the world and all its demands without question. With purpose.

You see resilience. Compassion. Traits that you’ve always lacked, that you’ve long resented, the same traits your mother never learned to embody.

And now you see your niece in her arms, born from this, and you name the indescribable feeling that dwells in you—borne from the pure look of adoration in your sister’s eyes for her youngest daughter—as envy.

You know, with utmost certainty, that she will be okay, because she has your sister as her mother, and she is so, so loved.

As you watch them, something inside you shifts—a deep, aching realization.

You see… home. Something you've always longed for but never truly found. “Happy new year!” The spell breaks. The two of you startle at the sudden eruption of fireworks, the distant chorus of car horns blaring from the streets outside.

Your niece and nephew jump and shriek, their laughter ringing through the room, celebrating something they barely understand but find joy in anyway. The baby in your sister’s arms lets out a wail at the commotion, and she is soothed instantly with murmurs of soft assurances. Her father struggles upright—then, with no small amount of effort, leans forward to press a kiss to the crown of her head.

The image before you is far from perfect, but it’s theirs.

“Auntie, auntie!” The little rascals cry out in unison, their voices overlapping in excitement. “‘appy n’year!”

A breathless, almost pained laugh escapes you. Still, you smile as you respond with your own, “happy new year!”

You’re tired—tired of running, of measuring yourself against the ghosts of your past. Tired of carrying the weight of a childhood that’s left you with more questions than answers, of making excuses for wounds that should have healed long since. You've spent so much time mourning the growing pains, the irreparable, that you never stopped to see what’s in front of you.

This moment, this realization, feels like the final missing piece in the fractured puzzle of who you are.

The new year arrives, marked by the crackle of fireworks and the loud cheer from your family.

This time, you won’t hesitate. You’ll choose to embrace the change, both good and bad, with open arms. With the quiet resolve of someone finally ready to move forward.

You lift your gaze just as a brilliant burst of red explodes into the night sky, its iridescent glow bleeding into a softer silver before fading into the dark.

A warmth settles deep in your chest—bittersweet, but steady. A quiet peace.

Happy new year, my love. . . . . . . .

. . .

The air at the threshold of Vagrant’s land is restless. Volatile. A hazy distortion ripples through it, folding and unfolding, like a lost mirage—an area of transition between worlds. Porch collapse, he calls it.

Sylus has stood here countless times, watching the way this anomalous disturbance twists the very fabric of this reality, how it flickers in and out of form, erratic. Impossible to predict.

It had taken him longer than he likes to admit to understand the phenomena for what it’s truly worth. Not just an alternate space caused by some spartan energy field. Not just any other protofield. But a thread. A connection. A door.

A fault line between realities, an entryway that hums with the possibility of you.

Since the moment the idea took hold, he had thought of little else. It has consumed him in every waking moment; his entire being seeming to bend toward a singular purpose—getting to you. He had torn through endless streams of data, followed every unstable pulse of energy, mapped its fluctuations down to the smallest inconsistency.

Nights bled into days, and days bled into weeks, until he can no longer keep track. Not that the passage of time meant much to him at this point.

He’s worked tirelessly through the stillness, through the storms of uncertainty, through the aching silence left by your absence. Ever since you’ve exchanged your temporary goodbyes.

He had measured everything he could—the unstable frequency of radio signals streaming through the interstice. He had traced the influx in real time; recording the rate of deterioration, isolating the waveform, and filtering out outside interferences.

But for all the data he gathered, for all the precision in his calculations, the core of this phenomenon remained just out of reach. His knowledge on the matter is rudimentary at most. He could waste years observing for abnormalities, trying to decipher how its presence has disrupted the very threads of this universe, but the why and how of it all will still elude him.

Still, theory matters less than function. He doesn’t need to understand the full depth of it. He only needs to harness it.

It’s a gamble.

Contrary to whatever reputation he’s earned for himself, Sylus has never been one to play his cards recklessly. He deals in certainties, in probabilities stacked in his favor, in risks that—while dangerous—are still within his grasp to control. He has never been the type to leap without knowing where he’d land.

But this is different.

He has never needed to, before. Never had a reason to throw himself into the unknown with no assurance of survival, no way to predict the outcome.

He had no reason to—until you.

Now, it matters less whether or not the odds of his survival are abysmal, that he has no precedent to follow. That your world might reject him entirely. None of it matters. Because if the choice is between staying and never reaching you, or plunging into the great, endless unknown—

He’ll take the leap, every time. Without hesitation.

He’ll leave this world behind, step beyond the edges of everything that has ever defined him, and venture into lands unseen, uncharted. Unknown. He doesn’t know what awaits him on the other side. If he’ll make it there in one piece. If he will make it there at all.

Sylus has never really questioned why he’s the anomaly in this world. The curiosities of his existence are yours to ponder. After all, he finds that he doesn’t care much of the answer as much as he cares about being with you.

Because wherever you are—that is home.

He takes a step forward, and the universe dissolves into a blinding light.

Sylus wakes to the sensation of weight.

Something presses on him heavily, sinking into his limbs like gravity itself is wrapping around him for the first time.

The ground beneath him is unfamiliar, uneven—tangible in a way he’s never felt before. His fingertips press into the damp earth, leaving the faintest imprint, yielding beneath his touch. The scent of soil rises around him; a rich, bitter brown.

This world does not recognize him, yet it cradles him like its own all the same.

Above, the sky erupts.

Fireworks split open the night, streaks of color exploding and dissipating in an instant—too fleeting to hold, too bright to ignore. A flashbang of incandescent reds and fluorescent greens, followed by bursts of crackling gold and shimmering silver scatter into tiny pinpricks before fading into the darkness.

The air is heavier here, denser in a way that feels almost… alien. It clings to the contours of his new form, seeps into his lungs with every breath.

And oh, how it burns. Not in pain, but in its sheer presence. It rushes into him not as mere oxygen but as something real. Something palpable. He’s lost in the sensation.

He exhales. Then winces.

Immediately, he feels it—the weakness. The brittleness of this new body. Gone is the invulnerability he once wielded so effortlessly, the certainty that nothing could touch him unless he allowed it.

That certainty is gone now, stripped away the moment he crossed the threshold.

He is flesh and bone. Finite. Mortal.

A lesser man might have feared it.

But in the middle of this empty field, miles away from civilization, Sylus can only laugh.

He tips his head back, reeling from the sheer impossibility of it all, eyes tracing the brilliant display above—as if committing it to memory, a coronation of sorts. Of existence. Of arrival. Of a life finally his own.

Reborn. And for the first time in his existence, he is alive.

––––

It’s summer—the summer that marks two years since he left.

Two years. It’s enough time to feel the weight of it, but not enough to make the events feel like something that happened a lifetime ago.

The seasons cycle once more, as they always do, pushing time forward with a steady, indifferent rhythm. And with that change comes a familiar pang—a bittersweet ache, neither grief nor regret, just the weight of knowing that nothing stays the same. Mono no aware.

You’re closer to thirty now, and the thought doesn’t terrify you as much as it did before. Your hair’s in a pixie cut—short and sleek, although the edges are a little ragged from the half-assed trimming you gave it a few days ago.

It would have made you feel stupid, once upon a time, for trying out something drastic for a new look. Instead, you just take it for what it is—one more thing you did because you wanted to. Like the rest of the choices you’ve made over the past two years. It’s yours. Uneven, impulsive, maybe a little questionable. But yours.

It’s liberating. Even if it makes your head look like a pencil.

The voice—the one that picks at your face, your body, your thoughts, everything down to the last imperfection—never really shuts up. It’s quieter now, easier to ignore, but it still lurks in the background, waiting for an opening, a moment of weakness. Maybe it always will. Maybe that’s just the price of being human.

But you don’t fight it anymore. You don’t let it drag you down to a breaking point. You carry yourself differently now, you'd say. No pep in your step just yet, but you don’t feel the need to drag your heels either. Literally and figuratively.

The change has come in waves—sometimes gentle, sometimes harsh—but it’s there, marking you, marking the passage of time. Just like the earth, just like the seasons, you’ve shifted and grown. And perhaps that’s enough.

The sky is ablaze now, a deepening canvas of pinks and purples as the sun sinks lazily to the west. The fiery orange light spills through the large windows, bleeding into every corner of the room, and the world outside seems to slow, caught in the hour before dusk.

You’re behind the counter, wiping down plates with the kind of ease that comes from repetition, the motion so ingrained in you that it barely registers anymore. It’s all routine—the rhythm of it, the quiet hum of the bistro, the clinking of porcelain. The air is thick with the sticky smell of warm pastries, and it’s the sort of evening that feels almost liminal. A moment suspended in time.

You hear the soft tinkling of the door chimes, signaling the arrival of another customer.

It’s a soft, unassuming sound, barely noticeable against the evening lull. You swipe your hands across your apron, turning on instinct, your mouth already forming the usual greeting.

“Hi, welcome to—”

The words die in your throat.

It’s a slow unfolding—almost a gradual realization that stretches across the seconds like the last rays of sun dipping beneath the horizon. He stands in the doorway, a figure outlined in gold, and his presence fills the space between you, no barrier that separates, and it feels... impossible. Unimaginable. Inevitable.

His height is the first thing you notice. He’s taller than you expected, and you know he’ll tower over you, even at a distance. His hair is dark now, the color of midnight, almost—not the silver you once traced with your fingers in your mind. The cut is still similar to what you’ve always known it to be, though a little more unkempt, as if he’s lived in this body long enough for it to take on its own wear.

Then his eyes. The red is gone—no longer the shade of crimson that used to see right through you, those sanguine pools you once loved. In its place, a stormy grey, deep and impossibly expressive, pulling you in like an undertow. The color is striking, alien in its own way, yet there’s a warmth buried beneath it—and the familiarity of it tugs at you.

Even with the changes, even though you’ve never met the person standing in front of you, you’ll know him anywhere.

There’s a shift in the room, a subtle, yet unmistakable change in the air. It’s as if the whole bistro has drawn in a breath—and you with it. Time stretches thin, each passing second expanding into what feels like an eternity.

Your eyes lock—and for a moment, nothing else exists.

It’s as if the world has shifted off its axis. Or, perhaps more accurately, it’s as though a piece that’s always been missing has finally snapped into place.

Something settles in you, something foreign and indescribably familiar at the same time.

Sylus smiles.

“Hello, my love. Have I kept you waiting?”

It feels like home.

____

“Now I found myself this kind of love, I can't believe it I'll never leave it behind I thought I'd never get to feel another fucking feeling But I feel— This love, this love, this love Oh, I feel it.”

End A/N: So this is done! Wow! I'm kind of proud of myself for writing something this long in the span of, idk, three months? Basically, the entire duration of my "vacation" back home. Now with another term and a busier schedule coming up, I really wanted to finish this series before life catches up to me. *sobs* Anyway, I'm so, so happy about the reception of this fic, and you've all been so sweet :') Again, thank you for reading! I'll see you in the spin-off, or whatever shit I put out next haha <3 Tagging: @xxfaithlynxx @beewilko @browneyedgirl22 @yournextdoorhousewitch @sunsethw4 @stxrrielle @mangooes @hrts4hanniehae @buggs-1 @michiluvddr @ssetsuka @imm0rtalbutterfly @the-golden-jhope @beomluvrr @bookfreakk @ally-the-artistic-turtle @sapphic-daze @sarahthemage @cchiiwinkle @madam8 @slownoise @raendarkfaerie @sylusdarling @luminaaaz @greeenbeean @vvhira @issamomma @shroomiethefrogwhisperer @blueberrysquire @lovely-hani @fiyori @peachystea @aeanya @sylus-crow @queen-serena88 @xthefuckerysquaredx @rayvensblog @poptrim @goldenbirdiee @amerti @angstylittleb1tch @reiofsuns2001 @j4mergy @touya-apologist @gladiolus-mamacitia @btszn @wrimaira

#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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