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seospicybin · 1 year

Text

PLUTO.

PART I

Chapters: Part II / Epilogue

Hyunjin x reader. (s,a)

Synopsis: Knowing that your life will end soon, you choose to have your desired death by making a pact with the devil with a red hair, Hyunjin. (16,7k words)

Author's note: This was supposed to be a Halloween fic but it seems like New Year is the perfect time to release it. It's about renewal and awakening but with a little bit of chaos in it.

Warning: Mentions sulcidal thoughts and may be triggering. Reader discretion is advised!

Which one is worse: Living or dying first?

You asked yourself as you stood there rethinking all of your decisions that led to this.

A gust of wind blowing your white dress, cold and harsh, like a slap in the face.

You let out a heavy sigh, the steam of your breath formed a curl of white smoke against the dark of the night.

You looked down, down below from the top of the building where everything seemed so small and people looked like specks of dust, looked down beyond your quivering feet, so high you couldn't even see the bottom, the concrete that would welcome you when you plunge to your death.

Was it a good decision? You asked yourself.

Death is easy.

A stab to the heart, a drop of poison, a cardiac arrest, a hypoxia.

Life is hard.

You wake up to another day of a mundane, dull life, work, home, sleep, eat, sigh and do it all over again the next day. Life is pain itself and everybody dies at the end.

You either die now or later, what makes the difference?

All you need was one jump then it's all over.

Death is that easy.

You took a shaky breath, whether it was from the cold or the fear creeping from the inside, a survival instinct in you that told you to get off the ledge and into the safe side.

You carefully put your leg up and are ready to leap, your mind went blank.

You screamed at the vast night sky because the silence got too deafening then like your brain betrayed you, shut you down before you make the worst mistake of your life, you got off the ledge.

You almost slipped and fell off the top of the building just like how you planned, but you found a hand that grabbed yours. Slender fingers decorated with metal rings, pale and hot to the touch, wrapped around your waist, holding you from falling, from death.

He helped you get off the ledge by lifting you by the waist then put you down gently, away from the edge of the building.

"You're hot," you said.

"It's not the first time I heard that," he said with a teeth-baring grin.

You shook your head, "I mean, you're literally hot," you corrected yourself, it was like he had spent hours by the fire and absorbed all of the heat.

He didn't reply but shoved his hands into the pocket of his dress pants.

"How ironic!" He suddenly said.

"An angel," he said, pointing to you who was dressed in an angel costume with its halo headband, "and a devil," he said, placing his hand on his chest to present himself, "met on a rooftop of a building,"

Your eyes were blurry with tears that made you realize that you were crying, cheeks wet and flushed from the cold.

"An angel about to fall but the devil helps her get off the ledge," he finished.

Did he see everything?

You roughly wiped your tears to see him better.

He was wearing a three-piece suit as black as the night, long hair, slicked back, red like hellfire. He has a small face, pale white skin, and small but smoldering eyes, then the lips, red and plump, like a cherry.

He looked at you with his head slightly tilted to the side, observing you like you were an object that intrigued his mind.

And if he weren't blinking, you would have mistaken him as a statue, a perfectly carved marble statue more beautiful than David by Michelangelo.

"Why don't I buy you some drinks and you can tell me how you got here?" He offered, one corner of his mouth raised higher than the other, forming a sinister smile.

You hugged yourself, either your body was seeking warmth or trying to comfort yourself, considering his offer like solving a math problem.

And he took a step closer, held out his hand at you.

You were slightly shivering from the cold, you started to get a runny nose and the invitation suddenly got so tempting, knowing that his hand would offer you some warmth.

You nodded and let him lead you back inside.

He didn't take you back to the Halloween party your company was having, he took you somewhere else, an empty lounge bar that you didn't know even existed in the building.

He welcomed you to sit on one of the stools that face the counter then he stood, took his suit jacket off in an elegant manner, folded it then placed it on the next stool next to you.

He smiled when he caught you watching him rolling the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows without blinking, he spared you from being embarrassed by hurriedly going behind the counter.

He put his hands on the counter and leaned forward at you, "what do you want to drink?" He asked you with eyes pierced right into yours.

"Anything," you answered. You couldn't decide when it felt like all the knowledge in your brain suddenly vanished when he looked at you dead in the eyes like that.

He squinted his eyes as he thought of something to make for you.

"I think I know the perfect drink for you," he said then went on to grab everything.

It was so riveting, seeing him gathering all the ingredients and pouring them one by one into a shaker: ice, red liquid, red-colored syrup, and vodka, finished it with a spritz of lemon.

He started shaking all the mixture together, shaking your thoughts away then hurriedly clearing your throat.

"Are you working here?" You asked.

He cracked a mystifying laugh at you but not answering your question.

He placed a glass on top of the counter and then poured the cocktails into it, seamlessly without spilling a drop.

For the garnish, he put raspberries in a stick into the glass then presented it to you, and slid the glass right in front of you.

The red cocktail sparkling in the dim light, you lifted it close enough to take a sniff of the sweet-smelling drink.

You glanced up at him and he bat his eyelash at you, giving you permission to drink.

You took a careful sip, it was a bit sour, a bit bitter but it was sweet in the end.

You have to admit that he has a prowess for bartending.

"This is good!" You praised him as he cleaned up the counter.

"What it's called?"

"A love potion," he playfully answered.

You blinked a few times, thinking you misheard him.

He laughed, "it's just a raspberry martini!"

He picked up a cherry from a bowl, stuck his tongue just enough to put it on it, bite the stem between his teeth then pulled it out.

"Do you like it?" He asked.

Once again, you got caught ogling over him doing such a mundane thing as eating a cherry.

"I like it," you said, whether he asked about the drink or the scene that just happened in front of you.

He poured himself a drink, a whiskey and you could feel the alcohol burnt your tongue as he filled the glass half full, then added an ice cube.

He went to sit next to you, took a sip of his drink once he was seated then placed the glass on the counter, the ice made a clinking sound inside the glass as he moves.

You clank your drinks together then took sips of your drinks at the same time and it was getting sweeter the more you drink your cocktail.

"If you don't mind me asking, how did you get there?" He asked, licking his lower lip that made it even more luscious, inviting you to get a taste.

"I don't know. Desperation, I guess," you answered with low giggles. It baffled you that you got to act like that around a stranger you met barely an hour ago.

"Why would a beautiful girl like you be that desperate?" He asked with eyes that secretly assessed you like you were a Rubik's cube that needs to be solved.

"I'm dying," you shortly replied as you stared deep into your drink.

"Figuratively?" He asked.

You laughed but skipped on answering.

"You must think I'm dramatic," you said, you weren't even going to try to shoot your shot. You have no chance with him, there's no use in trying.

"No," he strongly denied yet his voice remained low and calm.

"There's nothing dramatic in letting yourself deep in your feelings," he added.

You looked at him or braved yourself to do so, for a few seconds before looking away.

"I just want it to end," you said.

It surprised you that the words fell out of your mouth like that, you blamed it on the drink but you saw that he only put a shot of vodka in it. There was no way you let loose like this without being drunk first.

"I just want to end my life my way," you said to him, correcting your first statement.

"I'm conflicted because if I do it, my parents will get sad," you explained, "but I don't want to wait for my life to end either. I want to end it my way, at a time that I decided for myself," you said with sadness in your eyes.

"It's my life after all. I get to decide how and when to end my life, right?"

He hummed, trying to catch on to what you were trying to say and gently nodding.

He propped a hand under his chin with his index finger touching his lower lip, looking into your eyes as if he was searching for something in them.

He slightly parted his mouth open and licked his lower lip, making it wetter and redder than before.

"How about you sell your soul to me?"

You burst out laughing, he said it as if he really is a devil with a smirk plastered on his face.

"Yeah, sure!" You played along with him, stirring your cocktail with the stick.

"And in return, you get to have your desired death," he offered a deal.

You ate the raspberries and chewed on them, "that's actually... a nice deal," you said to him.

"I know, right?" He exclaimed, then took a small sip of his drink, "but you have to give me three reasons why I should approve the deal."

"You want me to appeal?"

He nodded.

"Well, first, I don't want to make my parents sad. If I end myself, I can imagine how devastated they would be and I believe they'd blame themselves for it. I don't want that," you explained.

"Second, my life..." you heavily sighed as it summed up how fed up you were with your life, "I feel like there's nothing I can do with my life anymore, it is stagnant like that, it can't go further than this,"

"Or maybe, you haven't looked thoroughly enough," he commented.

"I don't intend to find out anyway," you meekly said, you hurriedly drank your cocktail and let the alcohol burn down the cries trying to escape your throat.

He stayed quiet but intently listened to you, tracing the rim of his glass with his index finger.

"And the third?"

"I told you," you beamed with a foolish smile, this time you were convinced you got a bit drunk.

"You're dying?"

You nodded then finished your drink with one long gulp.

"Figuratively?" He asked for confirmation.

You shook your head, "sadly, no," you said.

You folded your hands on the counter and rested your chin on it, "that's why I don't want to wait for my end to come," you said to him.

He sighed then tilted his head upward, looking up at the ceiling, "And they say life is beautiful?" He sneered at the vast emptiness of the bar.

You let a scornful laugh with eyes drooping lower with each passing second.

"Are those enough to appeal to you?" You asked.

He finished his drink and gasped once he gulped down all of his drink, "I'll think about it," he said.

You snickered, amused that he treated this as if it was real and that he seriously considering it.

"Yeah, take your time," you joked to him with a sleepy smile, and after that nothing.

A day in your life always went like this.

You woke up at 5:30 am, did your laundry then cook breakfast, showered then dressed up for work.

You went out and listened to your neighbor arguing about the trash bags again for the umpteenth time as you passed their door. You bought a cup of coffee and got on a bus to work, on a good day, someone would offer you to sit on their seat but that rarely happens.

You worked as a columnist for a newspaper but mostly, to write a review of children's books and or an event of people who paid the newspaper to write about it, who wanted it to be publicly known.

Your boss never took you seriously, that's why he only gave you jobs that other people won't take and also because you would accept everything he gave you.

"Let me guess, a reunion?" Kim asked, a co-worker who sits next to your desk.

"Close. It's an anniversary of a nursing home," you answered, "one of our executives is one of their biggest donators.”

"Well, of course! You'd better make his name big and bold in the article," she sneered.

"Noted!" You beamed in response.

The little delight in an office like this is to talk about lame things that would make you feel better about your life at least for a few seconds before you descend into the pit again.

You swiveled your chair in her direction, "did you perhaps see me leaving the Halloween party?"

She pursed her lips while tugging a pen between her teeth, "I think the last time I saw you was when you said you needed to get some fresh air," she answered.

You recalled everything you did that night, including the part where you went to the rooftop and almost plunge to your death but that didn't happen. You remembered someone stopped you, took you inside to have a drink then from there, it was a big blank.

You didn't know how you get home that night and woke up in a sweat, your Halloween costume stuck to your skin and your shoes neatly placed on the threshold.

"But I can't remember that night either. Someone from the printing got me on a taxi home," she grimaced.

"Oh yeah, I got a little drunk as well," you said despite your memory of last night was still blurry to you.

"I better get started on my article," then swiveled your chair back, pushed to your desk, and started working.

On the afternoon, you went to the pantry to make your fourth cup of coffee of the day. You waited for the machine to finish while looking out the window.

"Can you make me a cup too?" Someone asked from behind you.

You turned around to find Minho. Your friend since the first year of college, the one who asked you to intern at the newspaper together and got the jobs at the same time, the sole reason why you were still here and the one you've been secretly in love with, your first love and the only person you ever fall in love with, staring at you with a smile on his face.

"A black coffee for Minho. On it!" You said to him.

He walked up to you and helped you get a clean mug from the top cabinet.

His hand brushed yours as he handed the mug to you.

You carefully poured the hot coffee into his mug and ripped a pack of brown sugar to add to it.

"Exactly how I like it!" He exclaimed to you with a satisfied smile.

You walked out of the pantry together while carrying your mugs in your hands, catching up with each other since he worked in a different department with you.

"I didn't see you much at the Halloween party," he said.

You swallowed, "I left early," you quickly answered.

"Why? I think I looked for you all night," he said.

He exaggerated it but you took it that he was being nice to you like he always does to you, "I didn't feel well," you lied, but not entirely.

"It's going to get cold, you better start wearing warm clothes," he softly spoke with a hand on your shoulder.

"Sure, I will," you said.

Someone called for him from across the room and he excused himself and squeezed your shoulder before leaving you.

You followed where he was going, knowing well that what was going to happen next would agonize you.

He came to her girlfriend, stood next to her while she talked to him about something, putting all of his attention on her with a smile on his face.

"Is that for me?" She asked him, pointing to the mug of coffee in his hand.

He considered it for a second and handed it to her, "You can have it!"

And there you were, could only look at someone else having what you wanted the most, his love.

It was your fault. You want all that is not yours. You want someone who doesn't want you back. This was all your fault.

You walked back to your desk and plopped down your chair, took a haste sip of your coffee, and let it burn your tongue as a way to avert the stinging pain you felt inside with a physical one.

"I'm going home!" Your co-worker announced once the clock strike 5 o'clock.

"See you tomorrow!" She said to you then gathered all of her things from her desk.

"See you!" You said back before she exited the office.

You dragged yourself to put your things back into your bag and waited for that one saddest part of your day.

You waited and waited, then there he was, Minho glanced at you with a smile on his face, "hey, aren't you going home?"

"In a bit," you answered and forced a smile for him.

His girlfriend came to his side in a matter of seconds and held his hand, it was like she has a radar that would tell her whenever he got too close to you.

"Let's have dinner next time!" He said and he had said it more than dozens of times already but never did.

But still, the intention alone was enough for you, "Bye Minho!" You said to him.

"Bye!" He said to you then left with her girlfriend.

There was nothing that excites you anymore for the rest of the day, but to mourn your life in your tiny apartment.

You saw your mother's shoes on the threshold and knew right away that she came to your apartment unannounced like she always does.

"Mom, you came without telling me again," you told her because just like all mothers do, she likes being nosy and digging through your things.

She was squatting down in front of your fridge, then sighed, "You know what makes me really sad? When I found your fridge empty like this," she said with an edge to her voice.

"What did you expect, mom? I rarely cook," you told her.

"I'd rather have leftovers and expired food in your fridge than just these," she said as she took out all the empty water bottles.

You sighed because talking back to her would only lead to an endless argument so you refrained and tossed your bag on the empty chair.

"Come! Have dinner with me!" She ordered.

You reluctantly sat on the chair and let her serve you food, obeying her like this so she would go on her way faster and leave you alone for the rest of the night.

She asked the same questions, about life, work, friends, and everything that you have no interest in anymore, which is life in general.

"How's dad?" You finally asked, to stop her from asking more about your life.

"Enjoying his retirement like always," she answered.

Your parents were on the verge of giving up the idea of having children when they had you.

Your mom was in her late 30s when she had you, she almost died when she gave birth to you and that made you precious to them. You are their only child, the one that gave them a chance and the joy to be a parent, their only hope to continue their bloodline and carry their genes and soon to be their biggest disappointment.

She left after giving you a series of scolds, ruffling your hair like she always does since you were little and hugging you, then finally leaving you alone in your own private space.

You sat by the small balcony, hugging your knees while looking out the window, wrapping yourself in a blanket because of the cold gust of winter wind even though spring is around the corner.

You fell asleep on your bedroom floor and woke up to the excruciating migraine that always comes so suddenly, without warning.

You crawled to the bedside table and hoisted yourself to get on the bed, pulled open the drawer to take out the medicine.

You rummaged inside the drawer in the dark, shaking up the last of the pills onto your palm and shoved it down your throat, swallowed it down with a few gulps of water.

You sighed into the void of your bedroom and the walls echoed it back to you.

"You have to start your treatment immediately!" Your doctor insisted.

"Immediately!" He pressured you, completely annoyed with your nonchalant attitude about your own health.

He was the only one who cared about your well-being, even more than you do to yourself.

"I just need pills for the migraines," you told him in a calm manner.

He hissed and sighed through his gritted teeth.

"Do you have any idea how severe your condition is? You are dying! You'll die soon if you don't receive any treatment," he hopelessly reminded you of your grim future.

"I know that really well," you said to him.

Then again, your attitude only pissed him off more.

"Please, let me assist you. Let me help you, it's a shot in the dark but it's worth a try," he said to you, begging with all of his heart. He must have a lot of pity for you, an old man like him feeling sad for a young girl like you, to suffer such an illness instead of him who already bagged so many life experiences.

Aside from the fact that he's taken the Hippocratic oath, he probably thinks of you like his own daughter.

"Doctor, I don't want to receive any treatment. I just want pills for my migraines," you said again, sternly this time.

He reluctantly took his notepad and scribbled something on it, roughly ripped the paper before handing it to you.

"Please reconsider it before it's too late," he said to you.

"I will," you said despite your decision being final.

"Thank you!" You muttered to him at the end.

It started with the constant migraines and pounding headaches, then when it got too unbearable, you got it checked at the hospital.

When you think life can't be more bountiful, it came with a surprise gift: A tumor on your brain.

To put it simply, you were dying, you lived on numbered days and you have roughly 3 months or less to live according to what the doctor said.

You never had any suicidal thoughts before that, but then again, depression is one of the side effects of dying. Because a surprise gift wrapped in the prettiest bow,

You had informed the office that you'd be coming late and once you arrived, you got called to the editor's office because you didn't highlight the amount of donation the executive made to the nursing home and had to redo the whole article. You took one pill before started working, clenching your fists as you began typing on your keyboard, and just breathe.

As usual, you waited for the saddest part of your day to pass, holding his girlfriend's hand like she would fly away if he didn't, fingers intertwined, so tight.

"Hey, have a good evening!" He said to you.

At least he didn't promise the dinner again which made you quietly wish it came true one day.

"You too!" You said back to him with a thin smile.

You popped another pill even though the migraine had slowly diminished, or maybe you took it because you thought it would also lessen the intangible pain inside you.

You spent the night by the balcony again, sitting down by the sill, wrapped in a blanket looking at the half-moon shining so bright above the city.

It was at a time like this you always thought of death.

The question mainly focused on 'when'? When is the good time to die? Now? Tomorrow? Two days again? By the weekend? At the end of the month?

There was always something stopping you, either your brain offering you logical options, to call the hospital and seek treatment but most of the time, it was just the reminder that you need to take care of a few things before the one final, last breath.

It didn't make you sad at all, the more you thought about it the lighter you got like you were stripping away a layer of fear of yourself.

Accepting reality is easier than keep avoiding it.

You got up in the middle of the night feeling nauseous, immediately ran to the bathroom, then vomited into the toilet bowl. Tears, sweat, and hair stuck to your face, you flushed the toilet, collapsing on the bathroom floor after. Curled up on the tiled floor of the bathroom, suffering from the pain that you have to deal with until you eventually die.

After a moment of trying to gain your consciousness, you heard footsteps approaching your way through the vibration on the floor.

Your vision blurred with tears and you could make out the shape of a dark figure looming in the doorway of your bathroom, tall with a hint of red.

You were in no condition to either fight or fight, you barely had any strength to take a stand.

The figure approached you then you felt the warmth of his hand, cupping your cheek.

"You suffer so much," the figure said.

He ran his fingers down your face and forced you to close both of your eyes, it was a simple touch yet it worked to send you into a painless, dreamless sleep.

You made a cup of coffee the second you arrived at the office.

You could feel nauseous from last night lingering inside you and felt another cup of coffee would help. You felt a hand resting on the small of your back and quickly turned on your heel to see who it is, "oh Minho, good morning!" You said, half surprised to see him so early in the office like this.

"You came early!" He said to you.

If he paid attention to you just a little, he would know that you always come early, at the same time every morning.

"Yeah," you half-heartedly answered.

"Which is perfect!" He exclaimed, then leaned against the counter to face you, "I need your help," he said.

"What is it?"

"I have an article and I have to turn it in this afternoon. Can you help me edit it?" He asked as he ripped two packs of creamers with his teeth, then poured it into your coffee.

He stirred it with a spoon while you were holding the mug in your hand, he licked the spoon once he was done then tossed it onto the sink.

"Please?" He asked.

It became a habit of yours, to always submit to his wishes whether you intended to or not.

"Of course!" You said.

You huddled close together in front of his computer, editing the article together and mashing ideas together. He couldn't deny that the two of you made a great team, especially when it comes to writing, it has been like that since college.

"It reminds me of our college years," he said to you.

You turned your head a smiled at him, suddenly aware of the proximity that you hurriedly swiveled your chair to the other way.

"Yes," you sheepishly replied.

"Let me treat you to lunch today!" He said.

"No, it's okay, it's nothing," you kindly refused, holding up your hands at him.

He grabbed your hands and put them down on your lap, "just wait by your desk, I'll pick you up later!" he said with a smile.

Kim invited you for lunch like she always does but you refused since you waited for Minho to pick you up just as he promised.

But he didn't come, even after Kim came back from her lunch and gave you a puzzling look.

"I'm not that hungry," you lied to her and assured her that you felt like skipping lunch.

You got ready for leaving the office, shoving everything into your bag, and didn't even wait for the saddest part of your day to pass like you usually do.

You went home and slept the day away, when you woke up in the dark of your home, you found someone sitting on the balcony that you used to sit on.

You scrambled to turn on the light and found him.

The guy with the hellfire hair and luscious lips, eating an apple.

"I hope you don't mind me taking an apple from your fridge," he said to you.

You roughly pinched the bridge of your nose then rubbed the corner of your eyes, "How do you get in here?" You asked.

"Through the window," he answered.

"But uh... I-" your head was still drowsy.

"I don't think I have apples in the house," you tried again.

He softly sighed, "You should check your fridge because you have a whole box of it," he said.

He got off the balcony and entered your room, standing at the end of your bed looking at you, "I wanted to talk to you yesterday but you didn't look good," he said.

"Talk about what?" You scooted to the edge of the bed, then stopped, your head was spinning and your hands were shaking.

"You shouldn't have skipped lunch and dinner altogether," he said to you.

You limped to exit your bedroom and trudged your way to the kitchen, opened the fridge with all of your strength, finding a whole box of apples inside just like he said.

"Mom..." You sighed with your head still stuck inside the fridge.

He fitted himself in the small space and took two apples, "here, you have one and I have another," he said, handing one to you.

He didn't hesitate to take a bite of the apple and it made a delicious crunching sound that strangely evoke your appetite.

You caved in and took a bite, the sweet juice started to fill your mouth, satisfying your hunger and thirst at once.

He leaned against the kitchen counter, across from you, and looked at you as you stood there chewing on your apple.

"I've been thinking about it," he said.

"What?"

"About the deal."

"What deal?"

"That you want to sell your soul to me and in return I give you your desired death," he replied.

And it all came back rushing through your head like a bursting dam. He was the guy from that night, the one who helped you get off the ledge, who made you that sweet cocktail, and probably the one who took you home, that's why he knew your address.

You gasped and almost threw the apple away, "you're the guy from that night," you exclaimed at him.

"Glad you remember!" He said to you with an unimpressed look.

"The devil," you recalled.

"In the flesh," he finished your sentence.

"Except that you aren't real," you said.

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion but he decided to move on "anyway, I brought the contract," he said, pulling out something from behind him, a piece of paper, worn and torn at the seam.

"I wrote down everything in the contract and you can read all of it," he paused to walk up to you then stopped just a step away from you, handing the paper to you.

"Just take your time, no need to rush to sign it and I'll be back before midnight," he said.

You took the paper from him and it smelled exactly like you imagined, a page of an old book.

"B–but how?" You asked in pure confusion.

You exhaled a long breath to calm your erratic breathing, "how do I know that this is all real?"

He soft chuckled while rubbing his chin with his knuckle, "just learn the contract paper," he said then took another bite of his apple before throwing the core into the trash bin.

He walked back to your bedroom and you were late to follow him, you caught the last of him getting out of your window to the balcony. But once you looked outside, there was no sight of him or the red of his hair anywhere.

It was like he just vanished into the night.

What kind of dream did you have last night?

But the details of your dream were too real to be considered just a dream, the apples were indeed there in the fridge, and the contract paper was on the dining table.

You were reading it when Kim all of sudden asked about it.

"Nothing, it's just a flyer," you waved her off and shoved the paper back into your bag.

The dullness of work suffocated you once again and to top that, Minho's girlfriend celebrated her birthday in the office and invited everyone to have something from the table full of a variety of food she ordered.

If Kim wasn't forcing you to have a slice of cake, you wouldn't have been here and eating the cake in silence, forcing it down your throat with your eyes uneasily looking at her, and then at Minho who stood so close like they were joined at the hip.

She sauntered in your direction and you quickly stuffed your mouth with the cake to avoid answering whatever she was going to ask.

"Seems like you really enjoyed the cake," Minho's girlfriend said.

You nodded with a mouth full of food, "yes, it's delicious," you shortly replied.

She smiled then brushed her hair to the back, intentionally showing something flashy on her hand, a diamond ring.

You knew she was baiting you to ask her the question but you didn't want to give her the satisfaction. You and Kim exchanged a glance, you guessed she noticed it too then looked in two different directions, to anywhere but her hand.

"Minho gave me the best birthday present," she blurted out when none of you asked about it.

You nodded but not saying anything.

"I didn't mean for anyone to know but I think good news should be shared, right?"

You stuffed more cake into your mouth and repeatedly noted, you really didn't want to know anything about that ring.

"We got engaged last night!" She announced, pitching her voice a bit louder for everyone around her to hear.

And suddenly, you had a hard time swallowing your food and it just stuck there in your esophagus.

People started making a ruckus then followed by congratulations from here and there.

You weren't sad or mad at all, you were just a little shaken inside. You forced yourself to swallow it all down inside you, whether it was the food or the bitter, harsh truth that you had to stop this masochistic infatuation.

Everyone's first love is meant to fail anyway.

Minho came to her side a moment later, looking unamused that the news was out. It baffled you how his eyes searched for yours first and not his girlfriend. You looked at each other but nothing came out from both of you.

Minho must be terribly stupid if he didn't know that you have feelings for him. It had been years and all these things you did out of devotion for him were too obvious to be missed.

You believed he knew but he decided to stay oblivious about it.

You got a little disappointed, at him and yourself, disappointed at him for leaving you hanging like this, and at yourself, for not having the courage just to say those three words to him.

"Congratulations!" You said to him, smiling even though you were close to tears.

"Thank you!" He meekly said.

You hated your heart so much for wanting what is not yours, for wanting what is not right, for wanting someone who doesn't want you back, for wanting him.

Your nausea returns when you were in the elevator heading down to the lobby. You felt the queasiness bubbling inside, you quickly covered your mouth and breathed through your nose, calming yourself with eyes uneasily looking at the floor number going down with each level.

You broke into a run when the elevator doors slid open, flung to the nearest bathroom, and pushed any door of the stall to find the one that was available.

You vomited everything out into the toilet bowl which got you retching and gasping for air at once.

"Hey, are you okay?" Kim asked.

You didn't know she was following you until she stood by the door clutching your bag in her hands.

"You dropped your bag," she said, one hand keeping the door of your stall open.

You took a tissue and roughly wiped your mouth with it, "Can you please get me my pills from inside my bag?" You begged.

"Sure, sure!" She fumbled to unzip your bag and shoved her hand inside to take out your medicine.

"Give me two," you said to her, holding out your palm at her.

She complied, shook the container until two pills rolled out then handed them to you.

You dry swallowed them and closed your eyes with your back resting against the partition.

"I have water," she offered, pulling out bottled water from her bag.

She uncapped the bottle before giving it to you.

"Thanks!" You muttered.

"Are you sick?" She asked.

You let out a long shaky breath, "I have this..." you paused to take another sip of water, "acute migraine," you lied.

She checked your body temperature but you seemed fine to her except for how you looked, "you look so pale," she sadly said.

"I just took my meds. I'll be okay," you assured her.

She helped you get up from the floor, smoothing down your skirt and fixing your coat, "you should get a taxi home!"

"Yeah, that's a good idea," you told her since there was no use in refusing her kind suggestion.

You sat on the couch waiting for the red-haired whatever man to really come just as he promised last night.

You sat cross-legged and read the contract paper over and over again, still wondering why you played along with him.

"I believe you have read the contract one too many times," he said, appearing out of nowhere behind you.

He walked so gracefully like a model down a fashion runway, poised and cool, his all-black attire supported the whole model's off-duty look.

"How do I know that you're the real devil?" You asked him, never the type to dillydally, especially when it comes to making a deal that involves your life.

"Isn't it obvious enough?" He asked with arms outstretched.

"Or are you hoping that I have horns and red-skinned, scary eyes and claws? Like that?"

You shrugged, "sort of."

He laughed, "my job is to tempt you human and you expect me to do that while looking like a scary creature out of a fantasy book?"

You pursed your lips and shrugged again, "well, that makes sense now," you said, settling the issue with an agreement.

You unfolded the contract paper and pointed to one of the points, "it said that you'll be with me every day. What's that mean?"

"What it literally means. I'll be with you every day, not for the whole 24 hours, of course. I have stuff to do," he said.

"What? Bartending?"

He scoffed.

"That's just ridiculous, I'm not going anywhere," you protested.

"I'm protecting my asset here because what if you had a change of heart?" He sat on the single sofa across from you, crossing his legs and propping a hand under his chin.

"I promise you, I will not," you assured him.

He softly rubbed his lips with his index finger, "are you sure it's not because your unrequited love just got engaged?"

That caught you off guard, "how do you know?"

"I told you, I keep an eye on my asset," he said, now spreading his legs open and propping his elbows on his knees.

You got quiet because you didn’t expect him to know this much about your life.

"So, it's not because of him?"

"No," you strongly denied.

"Let's not take a haste decision," he suggested.

You shook your head, "I think we should sign the contract!” You persisted, took a pen and placed your sign on the bottom corner of the paper.

He laughed when you slid the paper and pen at him, then said, "your turn!"

He burst out laughing, "and you think when you made a pact with the devil signing a paper would do it?"

You glared at him and hissed in irritation, "why didn't you-"

He took the paper and burned it on his palm, turning the paper into ash and smoke.

Your eyes widened in slight shock, it was like a magic trick, except that he wasn't using any trick and no equipment.

"Impressed?" He asked with an eyebrow raised.

You cleared your throat and acted coy about it, "no, but you’ll make a great birthday magician," you told him despite what he just pulled off scared you a little but you tried not to get intimidated by him and repressed it by acting nonchalantly.

He stared deep into your eyes as if he tried to look into your head and see what you were thinking. He didn't look away as he pulled out something from the inner pocket of his black suit jacket.

A locket with a thin gold chain and the pendant isn't bigger than your thumb. He hung it around his hand and showed it to you.

He put it inside his palm after you stared at it long enough.

"Before we make a pact, you haven't decided on your death yet," he reminded you.

"Huh?"

"I promise you your desired death, but the how and when, you haven't told me yet," he clicked his tongue repeatedly, "you have to be specific when making a pact with the devil," he said while squinting his eyes at you.

"Oh?" You exclaimed. He was right, you were rushing everything and you weren't aware of who you are dealing with.

"I want to die peacefully," you said.

"Like drowning?"

"How is that peaceful?" You asked in disbelief.

"Well, it's in the water and it's quiet. Peaceful!"

You winced, "I want to go..." you raked your brain for the right word to say, "quietly."

He scrunched his nose, thinking of an idea.

"I want to die in my sleep," you offered yours before he gave you other strange ways to die.

"Okay, I can do that," he said.

"Next question: when?" He asked, leaning forward at you in curiosity.

"Soon," you shortly replied.

"How soon?"

"Soon enough."

"Tomorrow?"

"Too soon," you snarked.

"A week from now?"

"No."

"One month from now?"

"Too long," you said.

He rolled his eyes in a rather dramatic way and came up with a suggestion real quick, "13 days, that's my final offer!"

You thought it over, two weeks. Would you be able to get your affairs in order in two weeks? It was kind of ideal, it wasn't soon nor late, it was right.

"Deal!"

He got up from the sofa and you unconsciously followed him, getting up from the couch as well. You both took a step closer and stood facing each other in the small living room of your apartment.

"Give me your hand!" He ordered.

You complied and held out your hand at him.

He took a breath to finally grab your hand, wrapping his hand around you and you did the same.

"Are you sure you want to sell your soul to me?" He asked, sounding all business and serious.

You swallowed air then cleared your throat before answering, "yes."

"And in return, you want a peaceful death?"

"Yes."

"13 days from now?"

"Yes," you undoubtedly replied.

A fire alight, setting both your clasped hands in a blazing fire but surprisingly, you didn't feel hot or in pain, it was warm, like your hand wrapped in mittens.

"Oh fuck!" You cursed under your breath, it shocked you but weirdly, you didn't try to take your hand away from him. Your eyes flicked to his face, his eyes turned into shades lighter than the usual dark eyes, gleaming like the eyes of a tiger in the dark.

"In a matter of 13 days, your soul will be mine," he said with eyes that looked right into you, so deep like he talked right into your soul that soon will be his.

You couldn't lie but felt a little frightened inside, you could feel beads of cold sweat form on your back and probably seep into your shirt.

"Congratulations, your life is officially cursed and you'll burn in hell forever!" He said with a smile that was the opposite of what he said to you. Then the fire went off, he let go of his hand to take out the locket again and opened it to reveal what looked like a clock but strangely, there was no number on it, just the needles.

"Places your thumb on it!" He ordered.

"Where?"

He gently led your thumb to the little needle in the center of the locket and pressed your thumb on it.

You yelped when your fingerpad made a contact with it, you pulled your hand away out of reflex to see that you had pricked your finger on the needle of the small clock inside the locket.

The drop of blood started filling the locket, crimson-colored liquid spread inside like a blooming flower then magically, the clock started ticking. The clock ran backward and that was when you realized that it was counting down the time to your death.

"13 days!" He said to you, opening your hand to place the locket on your palm.

You stared at the clock that counted down the time that led to your death.

Tick, tick, tick.

You had been wasting a full 60 seconds just staring at it in a mix of wonder and fear, you have a lot to say yet you were so speechless. You quickly shut the locket and put the chain around your neck, then you felt it, the weight of the pact you just made with the devil.

He helped you by fixing the hair caught in your necklace, "I brought just the right drink for the occasion!" He announced.

He poured wine into your mug in such elegance and didn't spill a drop by quickly spinning the bottle, then wiped it with a napkin.

You clank your mugs together since you don't have any wine glasses in the apartment.

"To cursed life!" He said as you both made a toast.

"To cursed life!" You repeated his words in a low, hesitated voice.

He sipped his wine and made it look like he sipped ambrosia in a goblet instead of wine in a mug.

"Having a second thought?" He asked, catching you holding the locket resting on your chest.

You quickly shook your head, "no."

"What are you going to do on your last few days in the mortal world?" He asked, tracing the rim of his mug with his index finger.

"Get my affairs in order," you replied, clasping your hands around your mug like you were seeking warmth from it.

"You need help?" He asked.

You awkwardly laughed, "what can you do?"

"I can do a little mischief here and there," he said, his finger flying to his lips, playing with the plump of his lower lip.

"That would be against my plan of 'going quietly'," you reminded him.

"What's with 'going quietly'? Why not 'go with a bang'?" He suggested, making a gesture of explosion above his head.

"I just..." you paused because you didn't know the answer. Why you should go quietly?

"I think it's easier that way," you replied with an answer that you weren't confident in.

He nodded and didn't ask further about it. He took another sip and let the silence hang in the air between you and him.

You looked at him, in his usual attire of black outfit and red hair slicked back, pale skin with eyes back to their intense black color.

And you wondered how he ended up here?

"What should I call you?" You suddenly asked him.

"You can call me baby, darling, love," he listed all the pet names he liked to be called with.

"I don't like to be called cutie, but for you, I'll allow it," he finished with a wide smile that made him look more human than he was supposed to be.

You rolled your eyes at him and inaudibly sighed.

"Hyunjin," he quickly said.

"You can call me Hyunjin," he said again while taking another sip of his wine.

You nodded, and that was enough information for the day. That he really is the devil, named Hyunjin and you just made a pact with him. Your eyes shot at the locket and at the reminder of it, you heard the sounds of the seconds being deducted from your life.

Tick, tick, tick.

D-13.

"That's a nice necklace!" Kim beamed the moment she noticed the necklace dangling around your neck.

"Oh, this?" You asked her.

"Is it vintage?"

"Uh..." you stalled to find an answer, "yes, I bought it online," you lied.

"That's so nice!" She praised.

"Text me the online shop cause I want one,"

You stifled a nod, "yes, I will," you lied again.

At this point, you didn't care about all the lies you tell people, you are going to burn in hell for eternity anyway.

You were coming back from lunch with Kim when you met Minho in the lobby, he looked like he was waiting for you from the way he got up from his seat the moment he saw you coming through the entrance.

"Hey, want to have coffee together?" He asked you.

Kim realized that he didn't ask for her to be present there and excused herself to go back to the office.

"Okay," you replied.

You had been sitting facing each other and the cups of iced coffee dripping wet from the condensation, you waited for him to say something with your hands clasped under the table.

"What is it, Minho?" You asked him because he kept quiet the whole time you sat there.

"You have something to say to me?"

It seemed like he was unable to decide what he wants to talk about first, you guessed he wanted to talk about yesterday.

"I wasn't planning on proposing to her," he blurted out.

You looked at him rather wide-eyed, didn't expect him to say it like that.

"I was planning on gift her a ring. Not proposing to her," he explained.

"But her parents were present and she got ecstatic the moment she saw it," he paused to catch a breath, "I couldn't just say that I didn't mean to propose to her, she looked so happy. I-"

"Minho, I'm not asking," you reminded him.

His face gradually turned sour, "I just thought that maybe I need to explain-"

"Whatever you do or did or done with your girlfriend is none of my business," you quickly told him, settling the matter before he pried more than you allowed him to.

Your words seemed to surprise him and he was quiet for a while, "I don't want things to change between us," he said.

You badly wanted to ask him what exactly you two have. What you are to him? And what he takes you for?

"What are you talking about? We'll always be good friends," you remarked with a sweet smile.

A smile bloomed on his face, "yeah, of course, we'll always be good friends, right?"

You nodded even though he clearly drew the invisible line that you shouldn't cross.

He took a long sip of his coffee and gasped in satisfaction, "I'm writing a special article," he said.

"Yeah?"

He nodded, "yes, it's for the spring special-themed article," he replied.

You stirred your iced coffee with the straw, making the ice cubes clink against the glass.

"That's great, Minho!" You complimented him without looking at him.

"Can you help me with it?" He asked.

"I like it when we work together," he added.

You stirred and stirred, watched as the coffee made a swirl inside your glass.

"Please?"

You stopped stirring when the coffee was about to slosh out of the glass, "sure, I'd love to," you said.

There you go, making the same mistake over and over again, despite knowing that you would only get pain in return.

You were brushing your teeth when you saw his reflection in the bathroom mirror.

You got startled that you spat onto the sink, "coming back from whispering evil deeds into people?" You sneered at him then washed your mouth with running water.

He folded his hands and leaned against the door of your bathroom, "yes, and I should've told you to throw your iced coffee at him," he sneered back.

You got quiet, he wasn't only spying on your life but also knew what happened between you and the people around you.

You got on your bed and covered your body up to your chest with the duvet.

"That's it for the day?" He asked you.

"I'm going quietly," you reminded him with your back facing him.

He softly chuckled, "Goodnight!"

You didn't reply but the lingering silence got you curious if he was still there watching you sleep. You turned on your bed but he was already gone.

D-12

You haven't gotten to your desk yet when you got called to the editor's office, papers flying in your direction the moment you got in.

"You called this a piece of writing?" He asked you, the veins on his neck popped and strained in rage.

You opened your mouth to speak but he cut off you again with his shout, "do it all over again!"

You picked up the paper from the floor and took it with you back to the desk, you saw that this wasn't even your writing, it was someone else's but he had done it a handful of times, which means he wanted you to fix the writing and rewrite it again.

"Why does he always blame you for the mistakes others did?" Kim nagged with her head snapped at the editor's office.

You shrugged.

"Why didn't you say something?" She said with exasperation.

"You know it's useless," you responded while stacking the paper by its order.

She heavily sighed but didn't say anything back because she also knew that the editor is a really stubborn piece of work.

You spaced out while clutching your locket on your chest, feeling the ticking with every breath you took.

You could feel every second without needing to open the locket.

Tick, tick, tick.

"I knew that you'll be here," Minho said as he found you waiting for the coffee machine done making the coffee.

You turned on your heels, "yes, hi," you nervously answered.

"Have you got your coffee yet? I want to show you something," he said.

You nodded and collected your mug filled with freshly made coffee, "yes."

He took you to his desk and showed you the article he was writing for the spring-themed article, you scanned the words but the lines kept slipping off your mind, unable to focus.

"Yes, it's good," you said to him.

"Are you sure?"

"Uhm..." you hummed in confusion, your hand flew to your temple but nothing came to mind.

"I'm sorry, I can't seem to focus," you gave up trying and apologized.

He smiled at you, "it's okay, we can work on it some other time," he assured you.

You smiled back at him and took your mug with you, "sorry," you muttered.

"Let's have lunch together!" He suggested again, stopping you on your track.

"I can't. I have a doctor's appointment," you told him and it felt good on rejecting him without having to lie.

"Oh? Okay," he replied.

You didn't have a doctor's appointment but the doctor kept on calling you to come to the hospital, probably his last endeavor to convince you to get treatment.

And you were right, "I have thought it over like you asked and my decision is final, I will not get treatments," you sternly told him.

He sighed in defeat, pulled his drawer open, and placed a brochure right in front of you.

"Will you at least consider coming to this?" He asked.

You could tell that the brochure was a support group for cancer patients and survivors. It was a hard pass but to put an ease on the doctor's mind, you smiled and said, "maybe I will," you answered.

You were reading a children's book for you to review when he came, reading the title of the book out loud, "Chase the end of the rainbow," he recited, then chuckled.

"There is literally nothing at the end of the rainbow," he sneered then plopped down on the single sofa.

"It's just rain and puddles," he added then put his long legs on the coffee table.

You lowered the book enough to look at him, "did you make anyone cry today?" You playfully asked.

"I broke the ice cream machine again," he bragged, "I think yes, a few people cried."

"How fun!" You exclaimed with fake enthusiasm then flipped the page of the book.

He watched you reading the book, then got curious about it, he sat next to you and leaned so close to you so he could read it too.

You could smell the faint of his natural scent, of something strong, a bit musk and smokey. You turned your head just enough to see him, the side profile of his perfectly sculpted face and its facial features that complement each other.

He is so beautiful, it didn't make sense to you.

You shut the book and gave it to him, "you can read it," you said to him then went to your bedroom.

"Goodnight!" He shouted to you before you shut your bedroom door.

D-11

"Hey, you haven't sent me the name of the shop for that beautiful necklace," Kim said as she placed a cup of iced coffee on your desk.

You faked an apologetic look, "I'm sorry, I forgot," you muttered.

"Thanks for the coffee!" You added and took a sip.

Kim leaned at your computer screen to read the article you were writing and read it loud enough for both of you, she sighed when she came to the end of the paragraph.

"Sometimes I wonder why you're stuck here with me," she mumbled with a hand on her waist.

"You're literally wasting your talent here," she said with a hand on your shoulder.

You could only smile at her but you were sure that a new job wouldn't make a difference anyway. The tumor would still be there in your brain and you still be as miserable as you were here so what's the point?

You were waiting for the elevator to arrive when Minho took your hand and grinned when you looked at him.

"Have lunch with me!" He said while shaking your hand.

You turned your head at Kim, "I'm going with Kim," you said.

Minho looked at her, "mind if I borrow her for today?" He sweetly asked.

Kim uneasily glanced at you and caught the signals you threw at her with your eyes, but she said the opposite thing, "sure."

Minho always looked more relaxed when her girlfriend isn't around, she was having a meeting outside of the office and that was also why he bravely took you out for a lunch.

"You don't like it?" He asked.

"I'm not that hungry," you replied. You've been eating your food little by little. It comes as no surprise that losing your appetite is also a side effect of dying.

He looked at you with his head slightly tipped to the side, "you look a little pale," he said.

You took a sip of water, "I've been having trouble sleeping," you said but didn't tell him it was because of the migraine that kept you awake.

He reached for your face and pressed the back of his hand, checking your temperature, "you're a bit warm," he said.

You put his hand away from your face and gently put it down on the table, "I'm okay. I'm alright," you assured him.

He doubted you but nodded, continued eating his food, and shifted the conversation elsewhere.

"Remember the second year of college? That time we got on the back of the pick-up truck with the stage props, it was raining and we were both sick with flu the next day," he was talking with a smile on his face like the memory was so vivid to him.

Yes, those days were the happiest because it was so much simpler back then. It was just you and him stressing over college and nothing else. There was little responsibility, no articles to write, there was no girlfriend who keeps him on a leash and you didn't know that there was a tumor growing in your brain.

"You were sick but you insisted on taking care of me," he suddenly got all serious.

You gripped the fork in your hand tighter because why did he take you on an unwanted trip down memory lane? Shouldn't he know that those memories would only be nothing more than just memories? Soon he'd be forgetting all about it as he makes new ones with his dear fiancé.

"I'm finished," you said, putting down your cutlery and sliding the plate aside.

"I'll take care of the bill!" You announced because you needed to be as far away as possible from him.

He grabbed you by the elbow, "I'll do it!"

"No, you finish your meal! I have to go to the restroom anyway," you said with a thin smile and put his hand away.

On the way back to the office, Minho talked about the article he was writing but your mind was elsewhere, drifting here and there.

"So, what do you think?" Minho asked.

"Mmh?"

He cracked a laugh, "you weren't listening," he meekly said.

You shoved your hands into your coat pockets, "I'm sorry."

"Have a lot in your head?"

Aside from the tumor? You asked in your head.

"Not really," you answered.

He pushed the door open and held it open for you.

"Shouldn't you have a lot in your head?" You asked back.

He scanned his ID card before entering the building, "what do you mean?"

"You know with the engagement and everything," you casually said.

You didn't mean to but he was the one who started talking about those days when in reality, those days are over and he should be worrying about the accidental engagement.

Minho got quiet but strangely, you didn't feel bad at all. The sound of the elevator dinging open saved Minho from the question and you both got into the elevator.

Right before the doors slid shut, you caught a red-haired man smiling at you from afar, so sinister like a Chesire cat.

Out of reflex, you clutched the locket on your necklace and felt the needles counting down the seconds of your life.

Tick, tick, tick.

"You have 11... uh no wait, 10 days more to live and your plan is to finish your favorite TV series," Hyunjin said as he plopped down on the sofa next to you and took a handful of popcorn from the bowl.

"Did you happen to whisper any evil things into my ear?"

His eyebrows knitted together, "where?"

"At the office."

"When?"

"A little after lunch."

He shook his head, "not sure," he vaguely answered and filled his mouth full of popcorn.

You looked at him and observed him, trying to figure him out.

He grabbed your chin, then turned your head to face the TV.

"If you're the devil that means you've been to hell?" You asked out of the blue.

"You make it sound like going to hell is a hospital visit," he said and slumped on the sofa.

"So?"

"I came from hell."

"You were born there?"

He shrugged and took another handful of popcorn.

"Is it really that hot?" You asked out of pure curiosity and did everyone a favor for asking it.

"You'll find out soon," he shortly replied.

You pouted but despite the disappointing answers, your curiosity remained the same.

"Do you mingle with humans?"

He leered at you, "mingle?"

"You know, have a relationship with human..." your words trailed off, again, this was out of pure curiosity.

"Like us?" he pointed to both you and him.

You snorted, "what we have is a business deal."

"Like you and Minho then?" He teased.

You grimaced, "pfft... I hope not."

He chuckled and tugged a popcorn between his teeth, "why are you so curious?"

You put the bowl of popcorn onto his lap so hard sending some of it falling onto the floor, "You know everything about my life but I don't know anything about you and I'm going to die in 10 days, so please, entertain this dying lady," you complained.

He gently placed a hand on your elbow and it felt hot but bearable, "no need to be that hopeless," he playfully said.

You glared at him.

"The answer is yes," he finally admitted.

That intrigued you, so he did mingle with humans and your focus next was to figure out what kind of relationship he's into.

"How?"

You nodded.

"I don't think there are that many differences in how I have sex with how humans have sex," he casually said.

"Oh?" His answer took you aback.

"Oh!" You said again when it finally registered to you. So, it was all just physical to him. You didn't know why you expect more in the first place?

"What? You think I want to be romantically involved with the mortals?" He asked with a condescending smirk.

The way he said 'mortals' made it sound like humans are pathetic creatures just like how humans think of worms.

"Who knows?" You said with a shrug but deep down, you wished that he got karma for saying that.

He sighed and took the remote, replaying the episode from the beginning.

"Hey, I was watching that!" You said and tried to snatch the remote back from him.

"Be honest, you didn't watch any of it because you kept asking me questions," he said and hid the remote behind his back.

"How mature of you!" You sneered.

He stuck his tongue out at you in response.

You shook your head in disbelief that this entity sitting next to you is the devil and he came from hell.

D-10

You've been busy trying to finish an article since this afternoon and it seemed like you have to work overtime.

As soon as you finished and submitted it, your editor gave you another one to rewrite.

When you came back to your desk, Minho was there sitting on your desk and playing with your stress ball.

"Why are you here?" You asked and you didn't mean to be brash. It was just that everyone in the office already left and you were stuck there to pick up after someone's mess

If Minho wanted to remember the good old days with you, he should know that this wasn't the right time for it.

"I saw that your bag and coat are still here," he answered and got off your desk.

"I'm busy. I have to finish another article today," you simply said and hoping that he'd just leave you alone.

"Do you need help?"

"I'll handle it myself," you refused with a thin smile.

"Sure. I'm sure you can handle it well," he said but he seemed rather disappointed by the answer.

He smacked his lips together then he put a small paper bag on your desk, "this is for you!"

He slid the paper bag until it was right in front of you, "you said you have trouble sleeping so I bought you some chamomile tea and I think there are other kinds of tea too inside—"

He always does this, putting you on a pedestal, raising your hope and when you thought you stacked your hope high enough to reach him, he knocked it all down.

Over and over and over again and the end is always the same, he left you alone to pick up the pieces.

"You don't like it?" He asked since you got really quiet.

"I like it, thanks. But just stop," you replied and pushed the paper bag back to him.

"I bought it for you," he said and pushed it back to you.

You looked at him right in the eyes, "no. I want you to stop doing anything nice!" You enunciated every word so he heard you loud and clear.

He looked rather confused by what you said and cracked a laugh, "Why?"

"I just need you to stop being nice to me unless you're going to be with me," you dared to hold eye contact with him.

He cracked another laugh, probably thinking you were playing with him.

"You think I'm being funny?"

His laugh died down and his face turned serious.

"See? You can't keep being nice to me and I can't keep pretending that this is something that it's not!" You told him.

Since half of it already spilled out of your mouth, the rest would have to come out as well.

"We've been friends for years. You know me, you know who I am," your voice quivering because it hurts letting these words out of your chest, "you either want to be with me or not."

Minho opened his mouth to speak but close it again, when he managed to say something, he was stammering, "we're friends and I don't want to make it complicated—"

How dare he said all that when he's the one who had been playing with your feelings and made things complicated!

"Bullshit!" You cut him off midsentence, "it's just bullshit!"

It seemed like you just spat acid at him that he stood there with his feet nailed to the floor.

"Where is this coming from?" He probably couldn't believe that his friend who's always said yes to everything he said holding this much anger inside of her.

"From the place I've been hiding from you for about three years," it was painful to admit how miserable you were pining for him for the last three years.

"Three years because I haven't wanted to seem demanding and I haven't wanted to seem needy or pathetic or… whatever!"

The tears rolled down your cheeks and you wiped them with your knuckle, "so, I haven't asked you."

You stared into his eyes again, wide and surprised at your confession.

"But I..." the tears caught in your throat the more you tried to fight them, "I have to. I mean..."

Despite having an inkling of what his answer would be, you gave him another chance by asking him the only question he needed to answer once and for all.

"Do you want to be with me?"

From the silence that Minho let it went on too long, you knew what the answer is. It was exactly like you had predicted and he didn't need to say it out loud, you knew.

Tears streamed down your face and you looked down at your lap, hiding your sadness from him.

You quickly recovered, wiping your wet cheeks with the back of your hand, and looked at him again.

At that moment, you decided that it was time to put an end to this.

"I can't do this anymore, Minho."

You left him and went someplace to cry by yourself, consoled yourself with the fact that you can start letting him go. Years of loving him only brought you tears and pain.

Minho left the paper bag on your desk and you shoved it inside your drawer and started working on the second article before it got really late.

"Before you go home, can you do another one?" Your editor asked as you've just submitted the article.

"I'm afraid I can't do that, sir!"

His forehead creased, unamused by your answer, "what are you talking about?"

As you worked by yourself at your desk while crying from breaking up with someone who's not even your boyfriend, Kim's words replayed in the back of your head. She spoke the truth that day, that you've been wasting your talent here and no one even had an ounce of respect for you in there.

And you came to a decision to, "I quit," you said and handed him the freshly printed resignation letter.

"Thank you for these past..." you paused to think of a word to describe your experience of working in this office and none came to mind except negative words.

"...wonderful years, sir!" You decided to end it with a nice note because you weren't the same with them but you didn't wait for his approval.

You let out a big sigh when you got out of his office, packed your things, and left.

You used to think that losing a job is a frightening thing but after you did it, it wasn't that bad at all. The world is still spinning and the sky isn't falling down on you. If anything, you have fewer things to worry about.

You sat on the balcony with a blanket wrapped around you, looking out at the view and the night sky.

Funny that you missed having Hyunjin around when all he does is annoy you.

This empty space only made you think of what happened that day, with you and Minho, and how things ended.

Maybe you were selfish for wanting him but he has no right to toy with your feelings, maybe you did ruin years of friendship but it felt so right.

Yet you were crying as you curled up on the bed and the tears seeped into your pillow.

A part of you was glad that Hyunjin wasn't there. You could imagine him making fun of you for looking so miserable on your last days on earth.

D-9

You forgot that you're unemployed, you woke up, showered, and cooked breakfast then when it hits you that you didn't have to go to work, you have no idea what to do next.

You might be dying but how could you forget being a normal person?

You ended up watching TV and ate the endless supply of tangerines your mom secretly put in your fridge. You napped and ordered lunch, watched some more TV, read some news on the internet, ate some more tangerines, and tried to cook yourself dinner.

You gave up when you couldn't find anything in your fridge. Your mom is right, it was an alarming thing to see an empty fridge.

"How do you like your unemployment?" Hyunjin appeared when you closed the fridge.

You sighed and took your phone, scrolling down the list of restaurants to order your dinner. "Fantastic!" You replied but with a deadpan.

He leaned on the kitchen island and looked at your phone screen, "Let's have some meat for dinner!"

You tipped your phone and got it out of his sight, continued scrolling.

When the food came, you spread them on the table in the living room and sat on the floor. You treated yourself to a big dinner since it was your first day of unemployment. From the amount of food you ordered, they put in three pairs of chopsticks and Hyunjin successfully secured a pair.

"You can't finish all this food by yourself," he said with squinted eyes then tore open the paper wrapper with his teeth.

You ignored him and started opening the lids, sending the mouth-watering smell wafting around the room. You slapped Hyunjin's hand as he went straight for the sliced meat.

You hissed, reminding him who had the right to eat it first since you bought it and doing so with a smirk on your face while he waited for you to finish, tugging the end of the chopsticks between his teeth.

"Can I have it now?" He asked.

Something about him reminded you of that naughty kid you knew in kindergarten, who liked to scare you by holding a caterpillar close to your face with a stick. He's annoying but in the most childish way and that was strange when you remembered that he came from hell.

"You were so cool yesterday," he said with a mouth full of rice but managed to put on a proud grin at you.

You continued eating but listened intently to what he said with stuffed cheeks.

"Breaking up with Minho," he continued.

"Oh wait, is it called breaking up even though you're not dating?"

You stabbed a piece of omelet with your chopsticks and ate it in one bite.

"I think you're the coolest when you..." he put down his chopstick and demonstrated how you slammed the resignation letter on your boss's desk.

"That's so badass!" He added in awe.

You couldn't remember the last time someone complimented you and how nice it feels, you didn't want to show him that so you suppressed your laugh by stuffing your mouth with more food.

"But winter isn't really a good time to quit your job you know," he continued, "I heard you spend more money during the winter because of gas, electricity..."

You blocked his chopsticks from taking more food and put them away, glaring at him.

He grinned at you with apologetic eyes, "I mean... why don't you get another job?"

"Why should I?" You simply asked.

He shrugged, "you have that thing called what... ambition or something like that."

"I'm not that ambitious," you said and it was true, you have enough from living day to day.

"If a painter dreams of having their paintings hung in the Louvre then a writer like you must have dreamed of seeing your writing somewhere, right?" He asked again.

It took you back to when you were in college and thinking of getting a job as a writer. You did the internship intending to fill in your resume and what happened years after that, let's say you were foolish enough for following a man and not your dream. You do have one and it is to write for the Daily K newspaper.

"I do," you answered.

He pointed his chopsticks at you, "Why don't you try to apply for a job there?"

You took a sip of water and thought why do you bother trying, it's a shot in the dark.

"I only have to live for a few more days anyway," you answered with a shrug.

"That's the point! You only have a few more days to live so you have nothing to lose, right?" He was talking but his eyes were looking at the last piece of meat and he knew that you noticed.

When you thought about it again then yes, you have nothing to lose. You can apply for a job and whether you got accepted or not, it wouldn't hurt since you'll be leaving the world forever.

You pushed the plate with the last piece of meat at him.

A smile rose on his face with his eyes formed two crescent moons.

How long was it since the last time you updated your resume? It was a long time ago that you couldn't remember it and you've been staring at your laptop screen, didn't know what to do with it.

"Shouldn't you be like... write something about yourself?" Hyunjin said, lying on the sofa and flicking the channels on the TV while you sat on the carpeted floor.

"Yeah sure, my bleak life story would make them hire me," you sneered and propped a hand under your chin, still trying to come up with something to write.

"Maybe all you need is a shot of courage!" Hyunjin said.

You looked over your shoulder but he was no longer on the sofa, he was there in the kitchen holding a bottle of tequila at you.

"No thanks!" You turned down his idea straight away and looked back at your laptop, still having no idea what to write. "Where did you find it though?"

He uncapped the bottle, "it was hidden under the sink," he said and poured himself a shot of tequila.

Ah, you remembered that's where you hide your alcohol just in case your mom is coming unannounced and doing an inspection around your place.

He hissed after taking a shot and looked at you, "you sure you don't want it?"

"Nah."

"To relax the nerves?" He persuaded you once more and shook the bottle at you, his red hair looking like a swaying flame under the fluorescent light.

It was really tempting and you really did need a shot of courage, "I can't do this sober anyway," you finally caved in.

Hyunjin brought the bottle and two shot glasses to the living room with a grin on his face. He initiated a toast, raising his shot glass in the air, and said, "To cursed life!"

You clank your drink with his and meekly repeated his words, "To cursed life!"

You were too confident in yourself and could handle the alcohol well since you had a big dinner earlier. Somehow, your brain worked after a few shots and your fingers started typing nonstop. When you were done, you read it out loud to Hyunjin and asked for his opinions.

"Booooooring!" He booed, stacking his hands together and putting his chin on top.

"You should write it how you would write an article for them," he said, his plush lips red and puckered.

"Can you even get drunk?"

He closed his eyes, then grinned, "No."

You scoffed and started writing again while Hyunjin refilled both of your glasses with more alcohol. He really is the goddamn devil that you couldn't keep track of how many shots you have taken. It was blurry from there, your fingers didn't feel like they were typing but you saw how the page slowly filled with words.

You remembered reading it to him after and he laughed. You didn't know what was so funny about all this but you laughed to the point that you almost spit your drink. You both huddled in front of your laptop together and drank more tequila straight from the bottle in turns.

"This is it!" He said.

"I don't know. This sounds... so..."

"Out of this world?"

You laughed.

"Send it!"

You moved the cursor to the send button.

Hyunjin brought his mouth close to your ear, "hit the send button!"

You shivered, "oh, the devil's whisper!"

"Hit it!" He said right into your ear, a little louder.

You pushed him away while giggling and covered your ears, "okay, okay!"

You squinted your eyes with your finger only an inch away from clicking, sending in your resume through an email.

When you opened your eyes, there was a pop-up notification that the email has been sent.

"Oh fuck!" You sighed and lay yourself down on the carpeted floor.

Hyunjin lay there next to you, "see? It's not that hard!"

You stared at the ceiling with your eyes started drooping, "I'm so tired."

"You should go to bed it's cold in here," Hyunjin nudged your shoulder with his.

But it felt comfortable and you could barely keep your eyes open anymore.

"I'm sleepy," you whined.

"It's cold!" He grumbled.

Without opening your eyes, you grabbed his arm and held it close. His body heat was enough to keep you warm.

"It's warm now," you slurred and started to slowly drift into sleep.

D-8

You woke up with a cold sweat and fumble to get off the bed, then reality hits you like a bucket of cold water.

"Fuck, I keep forgetting that I'm unemployed," you groaned and went back to sleep.

You woke up after a few more hours of sleep and ordered lunch right away. Ignoring the mess from last night, an empty bottle of tequila, the dirty dishes on the table, and your laptop died from running out of battery.

Your head was pounding but you knew that it was not the usual migraine, it was the hangover.

You took a shower next, trying to get rid of the alcohol stinks, and washed the hangover away.

You felt a little better in the afternoon but your stomach still felt a little sick. You opened the fridge to only groan at how empty it was except for the bottles of water and a half box of tangerines.

You rummaged through the box of your office stuff and found the paper bag Minho gave to you that day. There were boxes of different kinds of teas inside with the name of the tea and what it's good for written on each box.

Putting your pride aside and making yourself a cup of chamomile tea, the smell of it instantly relaxed you.

"Make a cup for me too!" Hyunjin said, lying on the sofa with his hands under his head.

"Make one yourself!" You said and took a small sip of your tea.

"I feel like dying here!" He whined while lying sideways on the sofa like he was posing for a photoshoot.

"No offense," he quickly added at the end of the sentence.

You took another sip and felt better already, or you suggested to your brain that it was working on you.

"None taken!" You plainly answered.

He got up from the sofa and stretched out his long arms, his red hair messy on the back, "what's for dinner?"

That reminded you to start looking at restaurant menus, went to your bedroom to get your phone, and saw two missed calls from Kim.

You were about to hit a call back when the doorbell rang.

"Is that the food?" Hyunjin asked from the living room.

You got out of the bedroom while holding your phone, "I haven't ordered yet," you answered.

You came to the door and opened it, got stunned at the person behind it.

He was the last person you wanted to see but there he was, standing in front of you, Minho.

"Can I come in?" He asked with a smile.

You let him in because it's basic etiquette, you wanted to be polite, nothing more than that.

Hyunjin was already gone when you got back inside but Minho saw the paper bag he gave you on the kitchen island.

"You were having tea?" He asked.

You didn't want to give him the satisfaction that you cherished the things he gifted for you but it was too late to hide it. You decided to play coy, "you want one?"

"Yes, please!"

You went behind the kitchen island and made him a cup of tea, doing it to ignore looking him in the eyes because you knew what those eyes can do to you.

You kept doing it when you served the steaming hot cup of tea to him.

"Thank you," he muttered but didn't take a seat on the chair.

You stood there next to the dining table, suddenly feeling like you were the one visiting his house and not the other way around.

"You are eventually going to look at me, aren't you?" He asked.

So he noticed that you've been trying to avoid them, you took a deep breath to finally look him in the eyes. There was a part of you that was glad of seeing him again and you hated yourself for it.

"I came here because I had to see you," he began, taking out the hands that has been deep inside his jeans pockets.

"Had to," he emphasized.

And that part has taken a bigger part of you the longer you stared into his eyes.

"I just don't understand this," you said.

You put your hand on the table for support as you felt like you were about to crumble down all over again.

"I mean... I was right there for years, remember?"

Even the soothing smell of the tea didn't work on relaxing you anymore.

"'This was a mistake' that's what you said to me once, that we weren't right for each other."

He looked a bit perplexed, lost in your words. "Well, I don't remember that," he innocently said.

Unlike you, he wouldn't remember saying that but you remembered how and when he said it, how those three words stuck with you ever since.

He took a step closer and placed a hand on yours, "I just know that I hated when you're gone."

He held your gaze before continuing to talk, "I kept looking at your desk at work and it was driving me crazy that I wasn't hearing from you."

He puts his forehead on yours and sighed in relief as he has just found a haven, "I don't want to lose you."

You were on the verge of plunging into another heartbreak but at the same time, couldn't say no to the thrill, "Oh... Minho," you said so hopelessly. And you hated yourself for letting him get to you, holding you by your neck, and winning your heart all over again.

"Come here," he held your face in your hands and leaned in, putting his lips on you, tearing down your guard like it was nothing but a mere warning sign.

Here you were, letting him take you to your bed and kiss all of your doubts away.

The shape of his body fits you perfectly as he lay there next to you and held you close, if this was a mistake then why it feels so right?

You pulled away to catch a breath and looked at him again to confirm that you weren't imagining it.

"I'm taking a long break at the end of the year," he said.

His hand splayed on your back with his thumb teasing the hem of your t-shirt, "I was thinking we can go on a trip together," he came up with the plan out of the blue.

"Somewhere warm with good food. Somewhere where I can see you wearing that red swimsuit I gave you," he added and pecked your lips. He once gave you a pair of swimsuits on your birthday since you planned on taking a summer vacation but the trip was canceled because your father got sick.

"What do you think?" He asked.

The invite came too suddenly and the end of the year was a month away, you only have a week in your life but sure, a trip with him, anywhere it is would be nice.

"It sounds great," you replied.

He puts a strand of hair away from your face before placing a gentle kiss.

"Do you mean that? I mean, are you free to do that?" You asked because you still couldn't process this, him coming and he made out with you on your bed, then asking you to come on a trip with him.

"Well, I came here to see you. I'm here now," he said and pecked your lips again.

You got a little uneasy from his vague answer and jerked your head back, "that didn't exactly answer my question."

You propped your elbow against the mattress and put a space between you and him, "does this mean you're not engaged anymore? I mean, you come here to tell me that, right?"

Minho sighed with his eyes closed and placed a hand on your shoulder, "I wish you could just accept knowing how confused I am about all this."

You shrugged his hand off your shoulder, "so you are still engaged?"

He took a second, "yes, but—"

"Oh my God!" You groaned and couldn't be faster to get off the bed, you stumbled to stand on your feet.

Minho fumbled to get up as well and sat on the edge of the bed.

"You were right about us... this was a mistake," you meekly said.

"You didn't mean that," he refused to believe you said that.

You raked your hair and tried to gather your thoughts, "I'm about three years late in telling you this but Minho, you broke my heart so many times."

You held yourself back from snapping at him by taking a deep breath, "and you acted like somehow it was my fault, my misunderstanding, and I was too in love with you to ever be mad at you. So I just punished myself for years!"

"No, I didn't—"

You didn't want to give him a chance to interrupt you so you kept going, "then you came here and told me that you don't want to lose me whilst you're still engaged to someone," you spat the fact right at his face.

It had been like that for years but that was the first time that everything became clear to you.

"It's over, Minho," you said.

He grabbed your hands and opened his mouth to speak.

You shook your head and let go of his hands, "I'm done being in love with you."

You went out of the bedroom and took his coat from the sofa, then walked to the threshold knowing that he'll follow you there.

"What's going into you?" Minho asked and it was his usual card trick that is playing the victim again.

"A realization that I've got a life to start living and you're not going to be in it, that's what got into me," you answered, handed him his coat, and opened the door for him.

He took a long, hard look at you with eyes that always work to soften your edges but it seemed like the magic has worn off.

You showed his way out with your hand and stared at him with hatred in your eyes.

There was an intense staring contest happening for a while until he reluctantly took his coat and stepped out of the door, turning around to see you for one last time.

Before he could say anything, you got ahead of him and said, "Goodbye!"

You shut the door right in his face, walked back to the living room, and lay down on the sofa. You planted your face into a cushion then screamed at the top of your lungs. You kept doing it until you ran out of breath and your throat burned dry.

"Fucking asshole," you cursed when you got up from the sofa, then started pacing around the house trying to burn the rage inside you.

"Shit! Fucking asshole! What a fucking jerk! Fuck! Argh!!!" You took the cushion and started squeezing it until it turned misshapen.

"Maybe you should make a new cup of tea!" Hyunjin said from the kitchen, leaning against the counter and sipping his tea.

"That goddamn tea!" You grumbled through your gritted teeth and shoved the tea back into the paper bag, throwing the whole thing into the trash bin.

"You can have mine then!" He offered.

You couldn't stay still, you kept pacing around with your hands balled into fists and ready to throw a punch if you have to, "argh... I have to—"

You have so much rage inside you but didn't know how to let it out, "I want to break things and scream and punch something without worrying my neighbors."

"Or maybe sit down and have a glass of water," Hyunjin suggested but doing it so calmly because he enjoyed the sight.

"I swear if I don't get it out, I'm going to fucking explode," you angrily told him with clenched jaws.

You got your coat and headed out of the door, walking aimlessly while carrying your rage inside your chest.

You ended up in a batting cage, you just wanted to tire yourself out with physical stuff and hope the rage would die down eventually.

You don't know how to play baseball but you kept batting the ball so hard and loud that it made a ringing sound and when the pitching machine stopped.

You turned at Hyunjin, "again!" You said, signaling him to put the coin into the machine.

You kept playing until there was no energy left in you and your palms were blistering from gripping the bat so hard and shaking since you didn't have dinner yet.

"Here!" Hyunjin said, handing you cold cans of beer.

You took them and held them in your hands to soothe the blisters, sighing at how good they felt.

Hyunjin opened a can for himself and started drinking, "feel better now?"

The exhaustion did work to make you forget that you were mad but it was still there, you could feel it in the pit of your stomach.

You opened a can in your hands and took a long gulp, gasping when you swallowed it all down.

"You know, he's the first and the only person I have had sex with," you blurted out.

You stared at the night sky and there was no stars or moon, only the vast darkness.

"And that's when he said it..."

You turned at Hyunjin and his red hair looking like cotton candy under the bright neon lights.

"This was a mistake," you enunciated the words one by one with a feeling like someone squeezed your heart dry when you said it.

"Since then I kept asking myself. Was it the sex? Was I not attractive enough? Was it my body? Was it me?" you rubbed your temple and sniffled, either from the cold or you were about to cry.

"A girl like me just couldn't forget such words," you said and took a small sip of your beer, you wiped the drop that escaped the corner of your mouth.

"I told him about it earlier and he said he couldn't remember saying that to me," you said in disbelief with creases on your forehead.

Tears just rolled down your cheeks like a bursting dam and you couldn't fight them but let them flood.

"How could I love such a man for three goddamn years?" You croaked and rested your forehead on Hyunjin's shoulder, closing your eyes and crying.

“I’m so fucking stupid,” you cursed yourself with a lot of regrets woven in your words.

Hyunjin put his arm around you and pulled you closer, letting you bury your head in his chest, helping you hide your sadness from the world. He kept quiet and calmly drank his beer, listening to your crying while sitting together on a bench outside a convenience store.

Your tears seeped into his clothes but in return, you felt the warmth of his embrace.

He let out a long sigh and said, "Amare et sapere vix deo conceditur."

He spoke Latin like he was a native and it sounded so beautiful coming out of his mouth, not to mention his gorgeous lips that are as red as his hair.

"Even God finds it hard to love and be wise at the same time," he translated it.

It was surprising that it was coming from him, the last person you ever wanted to hear words of comfort from yet here he was, resting his head against yours and kept shielding you from the cold, the heartbreak, and the world.

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onestepbackwards · 23 days

Text

Love That Bites Pt. 12

Hiii! It’s been a while! Sorry for such a long wait, my life has been chaos non-stop with one bad thing after another, but I was determined to finish this chapter! φ(・ω・｀ ) Forgive me if the pacing and formatting is a little off, but I finally got it done, even if I didn’t get to stuff everything I wanted into this chapter. But that just leaves more for the next one. I do hope you all Enjoy!

Summary: You begin to seriously dwell on your situation, but it seems even as much as you would like to stay, home comes calling. With home on the other line, it seems your fantasy must eventually come to an end. Though it seems Dracula may want a few words…

CW: Anxiety, budding feelings, dark thoughts, brief thoughts of murder, mentions of toxic family

Word Count: 5367 Words!

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Tag List: @tilldeathripsusapart @thedeadlynights, @pumpkinvampie @bethleeham @mshope16 @sixsixtwenty @haleypearce @rvautomatic @tinystarfishgalaxy @marshmelloe @maorizon @ursamajor17 @sapphicsfordracula @dame-sunflowers @sleepyendymion @starrlo0ver @onewiththebeanbag (i’m sorry, sometimes the @ doesn’t work?? ;~; )

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Last: Here

Next: ?

—

If you were being honest, you were beginning to wonder if staying in Dracula’s castle was driving you mad.

It had only been about three days, give or take, and yet…

How else would one rationally explain why you were actually enjoying your stay here at his castle? Or enjoying his visits with how tenderly the Dracula treated you?

Answer was, you didn’t.

At the moment, you were pressing your face into one of the soft pillows on the bed of your room. Outside of the castle, you could faintly hear the sounds of rolling thunder, and raindrops hitting the window.

Somehow, what normally would have been an eerie atmosphere had also become a comfort for you.

You weren’t as tense here. Despite being in Dracula’s castle, and that someone had already tried to kill you, you didn’t feel like you were in survival mode 24/7.

Not like how you were at your old home.

Clutching the pillow closer, you inhaled the pillow’s scent, before letting out a muffled groan.

There was also something you didn’t want to admit. The fact you were beginning to feel really weird about Dracula himself.

And it wasn’t even a bad weird.

It’s something you had been wanting to just shove into the back of your mind and never think of again, but it was beginning to be really hard to do that with how gentle and careful the Vampire Lord was with you.

Especially with the way he oh so gently held parts of your body when overseeing your healing injuries.

Your mind wandered to when he first picked you up, how he held you so effortlessly, holding you against his large frame as he carried you across the castle to this guest room.

Or how his large hands carefully cradled your midsection as he looked over your stitches that you had accidentally messed up. How his cool hands sent electric tingles across your skin-

Heat rushed to your face.

His voice had been so low, and those gorgeous ruby eyes looking at you with genuine concern.

And then his smirk.

How he smirked at you as he teased you, no malice to be seen on his face.

“I’m such a fucking goner, holy shit.” you mumbled into your pillow as heat flushed through your body.

You didn’t dare admit it out loud, but deep down, you knew what this meant.

Heart thudding in your chest, you gripped the pillow tighter.

You had a crush on Dracula.

It wasn’t something you could keep denying, not when your heart fluttered when he gave you such tender looks, or when his lips curled into an amused smirk when he teased you.

The urge to yell was strong.

“I must have really hit my head.”

Of course, that was an excuse you could only use so much until it was just a convenient lie. With the potion Dracula had made for you, the injury to your head had mostly healed.

With the injury to your skull no longer an issue, you knew deep down these feelings you had were unfortunately very natural.

Lifting your head from the pillow, you looked over to the window, idly watching a few flashes of lightning followed by thunder.

Swallowing thickly, you thought back to how he was just so… kind to you.

Even when he was being truthful, it was kind. Dracula didn’t have to tell you that the first batch of potions had been tampered with, but he wanted to be honest with you. It was clear he was putting his cards on the table so you could make your own decisions.

When had someone last been so… open with you? Willingly?

Just the thought had your heart pounding.

Was it really that simple? Someone just had to show you basic kindness for your heart to grow fond of them?

Another flash of lightning struck outside the castle, and you rolled onto your side.

Your mind idly wandered to something Dracula had told you while trying to make conversation. Something about how even the weather was connected to him, to a degree.

Despite the lightning and thunder, it wasn’t angry, like a beast lashing out. Not like it had been earlier.

Another part of you wondered if that heavy storm had been when Dracula found out the potions meant for you had been poisoned.

An even smaller part almost wanted to believe it, imagining how angry he could have possibly been on your behalf. Just like he had been when he broke free, how he wanted to know who had hurt you.

In truth, it was the storm earlier that had caused you to trip and tear some of your stitches.

A loud crack of lightning had shaken the castle earlier, all while you were getting up to use the restroom connected to the room you stayed in. It startled you enough to make you trip over your own feet, and collapse on the floor.

If it had been Dracula’s doing, you didn’t blame him. You doubted he was aware you had been up walking when he had been so angry.

…And because of it, you got to feel his hands on your body, even if it was brief.

A moment passed.

“Am I really that down bad?” you asked yourself, eyes drifting to the ceiling.

You wanted to scream.

This was not fair. Not fair at all.

Why Dracula of all people? The very man you were ‘destined’ to fight?

Deep down, it wasn’t hard to figure out the answer.

You were lonely.

Lonely, and a bit broken.

To have someone, even your biggest ‘enemy’ treat you with respect and kindness… Looking at it from an outside perspective? It wasn’t particularly surprising your heart was trying to latch onto him.

It didn’t make things any easier, though.

Especially when he gave you such fond looks. Looks you could almost imagine a good friend or lover giving you.

“Yup, I’m losing it.” You spoke, your eyes narrowing.

If anything, this made things way more complicated.

What on earth were you going to do now?

You’ve toyed with the idea of maybe politely asking Dracula to, you know, not destroy all of humanity in a attempt of mass genocide.

But would it be that easy?

Just because he seemed to respect you, did not mean he would give the same pardon to the rest of your kind. Especially how he didn’t seem too pleased when you mentioned you got your injuries from personal business.

It wasn’t a lot of info, but you had a feeling Dracula suspected it was humans that had done this to you. No doubt that wouldn’t help you with pleading your case.

Still… You also found your mind wandering over possibly trying to talk Dracula out of killing all humans, despite the odds.

It was something you had wanted the moment you found his statue, though you never really thought you’d get this far.

Could you really do it? Convince the Lord of the Night to leave humanity be?

Perhaps you could make a compromise? You knew he had to drink blood to live, perhaps he’d be interested in the few supernatural blood drives that existed?

…Or even your own blood?

You quickly shook your head, trying to get the image of Dracula intimately biting into your neck out of your mind.

That image pleased you a lot more than you’d like to admit…

With a huff, you brought a hand to your face, and rubbed your eyes.

“What was I thinking about again? Right! Compromise…”

It wasn’t like you could just stop hunting, either. Even if Dracula agreed not to kill humans, that didn’t mean other people who lived independently of him would follow such a lifestyle. If a beast or something of paranormal nature was out causing harm to innocent people, you’d have to put a stop to it.

But, perhaps… Perhaps you could convince Dracula at least to leave humanity be, unless someone personally spites him?

In that case, you could hardly feel the desire to stop him. Fuck around and find out and all that.

You would no doubt though have to give something up in return, no?

Not hunting Dracula wouldn’t be enough, you were sure. The King of the Night had sworn to destroy humanity for killing his wife. You doubted he would simply just stop in his crusade because you asked nicely and swore not to kill him for it.

“Perhaps if I added his castle and the covens that follow him…”

So long as his underlings weren’t out hunting innocent people, you generally had no reason to hunt them. The life of someone from the paranormal was tough, that you knew from the few supernatural acquaintances you had.

Not every dark being wanted to kill, they simply had to for survival. More often than not, it was humans that didn’t give them any options, hunting them down for being a dark being, or not helping them control their hunger.

On one hand, you understood the human perspective, to a degree. Why help something that needs to feed on your lifeblood to survive?

But on the other hand… If humanity helped them instead of scorned them, they would have no reason to hunt humans in the first place. Such as the blood banks to help feed vampires, so they were fed and didn’t have to give into their instincts.

Unfortunately, those weren’t incredibly popular as you’d like them to be. At least some of humanity was giving it a shot though…

Blowing a tuft of hair out of your face, you scowled. It really was an unending battle.

Didn’t help humans and many of the supernatural thought themselves above the other. No doubt if Dracula miraculously agreed not to kill humans, others would just find that stupid and do it anyway.

And you also figured others would come to hunt Dracula themselves. Even if the man agreed to leave humans alone, you doubted humans, let alone the church would take kindly to him just existing.

Hell, was his son even still alive? Alucard, you think his name was?

You had read about him from different journals of different Belmonts. It was clear the man was immortal, despite the human blood running through his veins

How the man was Dracula’s son, who had sworn to kill his father any time he should rise.

Swallowing thickly, you suddenly felt a bit sick.

Would you… Would you have to fight Alucard? The same man your ancestors thought so fondly of?

Somehow, that thought made your stomach churn.

You didn’t even know if the man was still alive. Could he be? Could Alucard really have hidden himself, even in modern times?

Or perhaps he had put himself to eternal rest until Dracula had awakened once more? You read something about him doing that in one of Richter’s journals. Something about how Alucard awoke to the call of Castlevania after Richter had risen the castle.

You felt your heart tick up a beat. Did that mean Alucard might come here and fight Dracula himself?

Turning onto your other side, you reached out and gently gripped your whip. Its old presence brought you a small comfort.

Chances were, you don’t think you’d have it in you to fight Alucard yourself.

Just like how you didn’t want to fight Dracula, just a little different in reasoning.

Would Alucard even listen if you tried to tell him Dracula didn’t want to kill humans? That is, if you even got Dracula to agree?

No, you doubted it would be that simple or easy.

Perhaps you could just stay out of it? Or at least try talking to him?

“Hah, am I really debating this?” You whispered to yourself, thumb running over some of the grooves of the whip.

You hadn’t even talked to Dracula yet about him leaving humanity alone, and here you were, thinking ahead as if you already accomplished such a feat.

Heaving a sigh, you slid the pillow out from under your head, and placed it on your face with a groan.

The weight of the world was still very much on your shoulders. Even if you didn’t have to fight Dracula now, you still had a job to do.

Protect humanity.

But…

Was it really that bad you were hoping you didn’t have to fight Dracula to do that?

Not just because of your complicated feelings, but would it not be better just to have him be neutral again?

If you did end up fighting and killing him, he would simply come back within a hundred years! It didn’t matter what you would do, fate would no doubt put your family through the ringer once more to defeat him.

Or at least have someone step up to the challenge if not your own family. Perhaps someone from the Morris clan?

Though, if you could make him no longer a threat because he wants to stay out of it, would that not be better for everyone involved?

Of course, you could only hope it would be that easy. Your life had never been simple, and it loved to screw you over time and time again.

However, you found some of your mother’s words echoing in your head.

‘Expect the worst, but hope for the best.’

Moving the pillow on your face to the side, you sighed.

“I can do that. I guess.”

You sat in silence for a few moments, idly listening to the thunder rolling overhead. You still couldn’t get over how this castle seemed to have a peaceful ambience your own home seemed to lack.

A buzz brought you out of your thoughts, and your eyes narrowed.

Hand flinging to the side of the bed, you patted the sheets until you felt the familiar shape of your phone. Picking it up, you felt your heart drop into your stomach.

‘When are u coming home? Dad’s not happy.’

Your mouth went dry, and you felt your body beginning to shake.

That’s right. You have been gone for several days now. It was only a matter of time before someone at home contacted you, asking where you were.

“Figures I couldn’t even have a week…” you mumbled, staring at your screen with badly veiled disdain.

Putting your phone down, you ignored the urge to puke your guts up. Just thinking of heading back to your family home made you nauseous.

Especially if Jason was growing upset you were gone.

“Upset if I’m there. Pissed if I’m away. Bah.”

It wasn’t incredibly surprising. Anytime you had injuries or were sick, you were always expected to ‘pick up the slack’, as they’d say.

Maybe they’d leave you be for a day or two at best if it was noticeably bad. However, you never got your hopes up, especially when it came to injuries.

In their eyes, if you could walk, you could work. If not doing the dirty jobs, then you could at least clean the house while they did the ‘real’ work.

A flare of irritation and anger rose in you.

Sure, you were always annoyed with them, but especially now after everything you have been through over the past few days.

Nearly dying because of your step family, having a manic episode and accidentally reviving your nemesis, said nemesis then caring for you better than anyone has before since your mother passed…

And… you had admittedly enjoyed the past few days, even if you were in enemy territory.

Dracula kept a slight distance with you, that much was obvious. It was clear, however, he was doing so for your comfort.

Even then, he still regularly checked up on you every few hours. You could technically even leave if you wanted, he said he would not stop you or hurt you for doing so.

Just yesterday, he had offered to bring you some books if you needed them, which you had declined.

It had shocked you more than anything that he was willing to offer entertainment, though you suppose you shouldn’t have been too surprised either. Declining had been a gut reaction from surprise, but you made sure to let him know you appreciated the offer.

You weren’t sure you could really even read anything he gave you, given you didn’t know what books he had. You would have had to see for yourself, and you didn’t want to bother him about it.

Though… It wasn’t like you could have gotten too much reading done with how much you had been sleeping and thinking. The few times you did need a distraction, you still had your phone too, which miraculously still somehow had a data connection.

Given how you were healing though… You wouldn’t mind a book now. A bit too late to ask for it though, you supposed.

Letting out a shaky breath, you looked at your phone once more.

The text almost seemed to taunt you.

They wanted you back, after hurting you, nearly killing you. All over ‘training’. As if nothing had happened.

Granted, you did tell them as you left to pretend it never happened. You think. Your memory of that fight was a bit hazier than you would like to admit.

Probably bloodloss.

Still…

Did they think they could just make demands? Just like that?

A part of you wanted to call Seth, the one who had texted you, and chew him out. Tell him about the hell you endured because of them, and how you almost died because they didn’t give a single shit about you.

How you wanted to rip into them, unload every single thing they have done to piss you off and ruin your life.

How a part of you wanted to go home and cut them to pieces slowly and-

You froze.

The grip on your phone was tight, and you felt your breathing grow heavy.

Carefully, you put your phone down on the bed, and took a deep breath.

You were angry, but you hated when those thoughts began to show. It never led to a good place mentally when you thought about killing them.

It wouldn’t be worth it.

Even if you did feel a sick satisfaction from it, which you know you would have, you would still suffer.

Being a Belmont only protected you from the law so much. The city you lived in didn’t know what went on behind closed doors. To the city, your little step family did everyone a favor by keeping the ‘beasts’ away.

If you killed them, you would be arrested. You would lose everything you worked hard for.

Your home, your heirlooms, your whip.

Sure, you could survive on the run for a while… But it wouldn’t be worth it.

The whole reason you put up with those jackasses was because you wanted to keep your home safe. You couldn’t exactly do that if you couldn’t go home.

Life really sucked right now.

But at least… you found temporary peace.

Idly, you clutched your phone again, wondering if you should answer Seth, or ignore him like you wanted to.

Given just looking at your screen and seeing the message made pricks of anxiety and frustration bloom in your chest, you decided to ignore it for now.

You couldn’t ignore it forever. Things would get worse if you did, and you already dreaded what the house must look like since you’ve been gone.

No doubt Jason’s attitude has been foul, you wouldn’t be surprised if he took it out on your home, just for you to clean up.

Scowling, you let out a small noise of annoyance.

After another moment, you decided to sit up. The soft sheets slid to your hips, and you winced as some weight shifted to a wound.

Hand twitching, you resisted the urge to open your bandages to look at your injuries.

Most were beginning to heal rather nicely since Dracula had brought you a potion. However, you still had a long way to go before you were fully recovered.

At the very least, maybe it wouldn’t be that long if Dracula truly intended to keep having potions made for you.

Yet another concept that floated around in your head that still managed to surprise you.

It’s almost funny. If you had been any other Belmont, you were certain you probably would have been mocked and tortured for having injuries. You doubted he would have extended the same kindness as he had you.

This didn’t help the fuzzy feeling in your chest when you thought about him, in an odd way.

You were special to Dracula, at least right now you were.

He wanted you alive for now. Alive and well.

Wringing your hands close to your chest, you tried not to sigh again.

What were you going to do?

As you tried once again to think over your options, your eyes caught your figure in one of the mirrors in the room. One near a dresser meant to look over outfits, you presumed.

Though you couldn’t help but scrunch up your face when you noticed your reflection.

You looked awful. Felt it too, even if your injuries were doing better.

Despite this, Dracula still treated you so gently, and with respect.

As you were deep in your musings, you ended up jumping a bit when you heard the familiar brisk knock at your door.

You knew right away who it was, having memorized just how particular Dracula had been knocking on your door.

Perhaps it was on purpose? A knock you would grow to recognize in case someone else knocked on your door?

Regardless, you didn’t keep him waiting, telling him to come in.

You would admit though, you never got over the slight surprise you had as he entered your room each time.

His presence alone was intimidating, even as he made a point to try and not be as such. How he seemingly called for attention as he entered a room, even if he didn’t utter a word.

It was both impressive, and you weren’t entirely sure how to feel about it.

Nervous? Sure. Into it? You had to mentally smack your brain a little to avoid your thoughts going in that direction as he was in the same room as you-

“Good afternoon.” He spoke as he closed the door behind him, his voice deep and quiet. You know for a fact he had a voice that could lead an entire army, or gently put you to sleep.

A dangerous voice, one you liked a bit too much.

-Nodding to him, you gave him a small smile. It was strange, how relaxed you were becoming around him with each visit.

A part of you still yearned for it to never end.

But your phone weighed heavy in your hand, a solid reminder you couldn’t stay. Unspoken consequences idly rolled around in your head, which was beginning to make you grow queasy.

Dracula’s eyes seemed to see through you, and you wondered if he could read your mind with how his gaze seemed to look at your very soul.

You certainly hoped he couldn’t read your mind, otherwise things would be pretty awkward with all the suggestive thoughts you have been mentally fighting off with a bat that floated through your head.

Thankfully, Dracula didn’t say a thing about that, simply sitting down in the chair you decided to keep next to your bed.

“Are you feeling well? Has the potion helped?”

He asked, bringing you out of your thoughts.

Heart pounding slightly, you smiled a bit wider.

“Yes! It has helped tremendously. My head no longer feels as if someone hit it with a hammer, and I’m mostly just sore at this point.”

Granted, that didn’t mean you were out of the woods yet. Your pain tolerance was higher than most. Just because you felt better, didn’t mean you were greenlit to go do any serious activities or hunting.

Despite your inner musings, Dracula seemed pleased.

“Good, good…”

He then reached into his cloak, and pulled out what you assumed to be another bottle filled with potion.

It had been a little while since he gave you that first dose, so it should be safe to consume more..

Potions could be taken in large quantities, but it wasn’t exactly recommended.

The concoctions filled a person’s stomach, but didn’t offer any nutritional value other than healing wounds. It could even make a person sick if consumed too much without a break or food in between major doses.

Not that it stopped you before. You didn’t exactly have the luxury of being picky at home when constantly fighting illness and injury. Growing sick from too much potion was a risk you often had to take.

You decided to keep that thought to yourself as you took the bottle from Dracula’s hands.

“If your healing continues to progress, you should be completely healed in less than a week. Maybe even sooner once those other potions are finished.” Dracula spoke, drawing your attention back to him.

A week? You didn’t think you had that kind of time. You’d probably need to be home at most, three days from now.

Dracula gave you an odd look.

“Is that not satisfactory?”

You blinked, eyes widening slightly.

“Oh, no! That… that isn’t the issue at all. It’s… It’s just…” you stumbled over your words, running a hand through your hair as you tried to figure out how to explain without seeming unthankful.

Dracula remained patient, letting you figure out what to say. His gaze was cool, yet curious.

A part of you also swore you saw amusement as you fumbled your sentences together.

Nervously, you began to wring your hands together, and fiddle with your shirt.

“…I just… I’m uh, I’m expected to be home soon…”

Dracula raised a brow at your small explanation.

Immediately, you also felt the temperature of the room drop. Enough to make the hair on your neck stand on end, and send a shudder down your spine.

You hoped you hadn’t pissed him off by saying that…

The gaze on Dracula’s face shifted, going from barely concealed amusement, to something… darker.

Old instincts began to wake, and you seriously hoped this wouldn’t be the end of the small little bit of peace you have had up until now.

The last thing you wanted was a fight.

An intimidating silence took hold of the room, and you forced yourself not to reach for your whip out of nerves. After a few moments, Dracula then broke said silence.

“This home of yours…”

He leaned close to you, his eyes bearing into your own.

“…Is it the same place where you received these injuries?”

For a moment, it felt as if the wind had been taken out of your sails.

“…Huh?”

You were confused. Was he… not upset with you?

Dracula tilted his head, those same ruby eyes flickering over where you were still injured.

“Forgive me for being presumptuous, but is that not where you were attacked? Was it within your own home?”

The question had your eyes wide.

“I uh-“

Dracula leaned back, though the odd feeling in the room didn’t settle.

“Of course, you don’t have to answer. But if I am right, is it that pressing to return before you are fully healed to handle whoever, or whatever dealt such blows?”

His questions had you pausing, and you felt your mouth run dry.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say Dracula seemed apprehensive about you returning home where you were hurt.

Almost as if he cared.

The very thought had your mind whirring in overdrive. If someone had told you months ago that Dracula himself seemed to care about you, you would have laughed in their face.

But with everything he has done for you… was it really that far fetched?

If anything, you could at least argue he’d hate to see all the hard work done in healing you go to waste, but you were certain it was more than that.

Again, not good for your conflicted feelings on Mr. Lord of the Night himself.

Rubbing the back of your head with a sigh, you felt yourself droop a little.

“It’s… complicated, but yes. I have to return home soon, or things might get messy.”

The very thought of what might happen if you disappeared too long left a sour feeling in your stomach.

Your eyes flickered up to meet his, and he held your gaze for a few moments.

“…I assume you can’t put this off then? That it must be urgent?” He asked, his voice low.

Nodding, you tried to keep holding his gaze, not wanting to seem weak about it.

“Unfortunately. I… I risk a lot if I wait too long.”

Dracula’s eyes narrowed on you, before he closed them with a sigh.

“Like I have mentioned before, you are my guest here. You are free to leave at any point you wish, nor are you to be attacked as you do so. However…”

Your head tilted slightly, heart picking up at the end of his sentence. However…?

“Are you… certain this is wise? That there is nothing else that can be done?”

Shaking your head, you finally looked away.

“…Will you be hurt again?”

You stayed silent, telling Dracula all he needed to know, even if you refused to elaborate.

Why bother making an empty promise? Even if you don’t get hurt this time when you head home, what about the next? You knew all too well it was practically a waiting game until you were sick or injured again.

With your silence, the room somehow became increasingly colder.

Daring to look up, you were surprised to see the red of his eyes glowing slightly, much like how he had found you.

He really didn’t seem to like the implications you left him with.

But what could you say?

‘Yeah, my step family might try to beat the shit out of me or leave me the rotten leftovers to eat, or even make me do the yucky missions. No doubt I’ll be injured or sick again by the end of the month!’

Yeah… that probably sounded a bit pathetic. Some Belmont you were, allowing your own ‘family’ to use you as a punching bag.

Dracula eventually let out a sigh, and reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He looked frustrated. Or worried? You couldn’t be too sure.

A moment passed. Then another. You weren’t entirely sure what to say.

Another sigh left his lips, and when he moved his hand to look at you, his eyes briefly glowed once again, before returning to their same ruby red they were before.

The room remained cold, though the look in his face wasn’t quite as scathing or irritated.

“Very well then. It seems this is personal and important to you. Whenever you wish to leave, I will personally escort you out of the castle.”

A part of you grew warm and fuzzy at that. And they say chivalry is dead.

However, before you could bask in that warm, fuzzy feeling, his voice rang out once more.

“Before you leave however, we have much to discuss.”

You blinked.

“Huh?”

As if a switch had been flipped, his entire posture seemed to shift.

His back was up straighter, and he crossed his legs. He then rested his elbow on the arm of the chair, resting his head on his fist.

His eyes seemed to sharpen as his gaze then zeroed in on you.

Your mouth went dry.

It was as if his entire demeanor changed.

Hair on your neck stood on end, and out of nowhere, it was as if a stone settled uncomfortably in your stomach.

“You had mentioned wishing to talk back when I was… imprisoned. If you are going to leave, I imagine you would wish to discuss this before you do so.”

You felt your blood run cold.

Ah. That.

Now you understood why his demeanor had changed so much in a matter of seconds.

No longer were you just talking to Dracula, your polite host.

You were now discussing terms with Dracula, King of the Night.

#castlevania #vlad dracula tepes #dracula #dracula x reader #castlevania x reader #x reader #reader insert #vlad dracula țepeș #reader x dracula #zed.writes #love that bites #belmont!reader #long post

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sugarlywhispers · 6 months

Text

g.satoru + reader that traveled dimensions

☆–ANGST, dimension traveler!reader, mentions of injuries and monsters/curses that eat people (lol i don't know how else to explain it), maybe a bit of fluff (? honestly, it's mostly angst).

☆–a.n; i was not able to finish the next chapter of KOI NO YOKAN cuz i'm a bit stuck, so it'll take a bit longer for that. as an apology, here is my first Gojo Satoru angst </3 lol take into consideration that i haven't read the manga, i only watched the anime, so sorry if it's not as accurate.✌🏼🤍

It's a Spring night, almost 11pm. You stand on the balcony, admiring the amazing view before your eyes. A beautiful forest that adorns around Jujutsu Tech, like a protection barrier that alienates the old school from the rest of the world, and beyond that, the city lights that illuminates the night. The soft breeze makes your hair float a bit and the fresh air makes you take a deep breath, enjoying the slight smell of damp grass and flowers. You couldn't sleep. And neither could him. How could you, after a day as stressful as it had been.

You look up at the night sky. For some reason, the city lights do not interfere in the amazing clear and full of stars sky above you. You wonder if it is some kind of energy that allows that.

It's so beautiful, you have never seen a sky as gorgeous as this one. The smile that spreads throughout your face is impossible to hold back.

"It's a beautiful night, right?" It's a rhetorical question you just ask to create a kind environment between you two.

Gojo Satoru accompanies you on the balcony, but different from you, he's not looking in the direction of the city. He's looking your way, his back towards the rest of the outside world, just leaning on the wall at the edge of the balcony right next to you. He's almost sitting on it, one of his long legs crossed over the other; one of his hands supports a bit of his weight over the space of the wall that functions as a railing, his other hand is stretched on his side, dangling the sunglasses he always wear when he does not have his blindfold over his eyes. You can feel them over you, following your every move.

It's been like that since what happened the day before.

Yesterday started quite normally. Even though you lived at the school –mostly for protection, there were still questions as to how you traveled through dimensions and landed on a world that to you it just existed in a manga and an anime. Gojo thought that the question should be directed as to who made you travel dimensions– you worked in the city of Tokyo, a very mundane job at a coffee shop compared to what the rest of the people you lived with did for a living.

Talking about it, you are able to see them–the curses. Why? You don't know. You don't have an ounce of cursed energy to fight them, but you can see them. And they are the ugliest and terrifying creatures you have ever seen. You remember the first time you saw one, the shock made you almost climb Gojo's tall body for protection, because he was right next to you when it happened. He had laughed so hard at you, you tried to punch him on the ribs. Unable to, thanks to his infinity cursed energy. It's a weird sensation, the space between him and his energy made tingles ran through your body. Pleasantly, because he wasn't in a fighting and protective mood against you.

Back to yesterday, it had been a normal day. Until the midday sun was almost completely covered by something so big in the sky it darkened the whole city. You knew it then. Something bad was going to happen.

And it did. Curses ran freely around the city center, very close to where your work place was. It was chaos. People getting killed and devoured by this creatures in the most grotesque ways. You have never seen anything like this, not even in your worst nightmare. Yet there you were, a baseball bat on your hands trying to land a hit on the medium to big, disgustingly ugly curse that had followed you, trapped in an alley with your coworker–a young girl, barely over her teenage phase, who was in her first year of college, screaming in fear and hiding behind you. You knew it was futile, a waste of time and strength. You could do nothing against this creature. So you yelled at her to run far and fast as you would try to distract it. You succeeded, but you didn't count on losing your bat as the curse ate it. Now you were screwed.

It's mouth stank of blood and dirt and something smoky you could not –nor wanted to– decipher what it was, but it was nauseating. When it swallowed you whole, you thought this was it; this was how you would die. Disintegrated inside a curse's stomach to nothing but mere liquid and…nothing. What a bitch of a luck.

So many things you regretted at that moment. Especially the things you didn't do or didn't say. Towards a certain someone.

Gojo Satoru.

You wondered where was he. Probably battling some other strong curse, the biggest and most dangerous from them all. He'll also probably–no, you were sure he would win.

And where were you? Inside of the stupidest curses of them all, judging by all the meaningless things this fucking creature ate apart from you. How pathetic.

You didn't know how many hours passed but you started feeling dizzy, weak and the stomach liquid of this curse was starting to burn your skin as it began to fill more and more the space. You were about to pass out when suddenly, the smocky, repulsive odor was replace by lightness… and the distinctive eyes of Gojo Satoru. A crazed expression on his face, like a madman possessed and ready for revenge.

You said his name, a faint murmur filled with content and relief, before letting yourself go to that darkness that was pulling your mind.

When you woke up at the next day, he was there. Gojo sat on a chair right next to your bed, his big and warm hand covering your bandaged one resting at the side of your body. He was wide awake, his beautiful and profound eyes looking at you. His other hand caressed the top of your head, as softly as he was able to, trying, afraid to touch any part of you that might hurt.

You smiled, "Hi."

"Hi," Gojo smiled back.

There was no need to say anything else. You both knew.

And since that moment, he hasn't left your side. You go to the kitchen, he's right behind you. You go to the living room area, he makes a few more steps passing you to open the big, old wooden door for you. You wanted to take some air out on the balcony, he's right there too.

Like now, like he's been all day.

When you talk about how beautiful the night is, Gojo Satoru doesn't look up at the sky. You can feel his eyes on you, so when you look back down, you're not surprise to collide with his. They look like they always do. Light blue mixed with tones of blue and purple and white and sparkles of the musky universe in them. It's so unique, you feel enraptured, completely spellbound by its shades. It's like watching the whole beauty of the universe in them. Beautiful doesn't even make them justice.

And those same eyes, that belong to this man right next to you, are the one who say, "You are beautiful."

The blush on your cheeks is inevitable, but it mixes with some of the reddish in your skin thanks to the burns. You break the spell looking down on your hands, which are bandaged and a reminder.

"I– "

"NO," you interrupt him, voice firm and looking back at him, who now has an expression of surprise and concern. You shake your head, "Just… Don't say it…" Your eyes close as your words end in a whisper.

You know what he's about to say. You can feel it. You have been able to feel it since a while ago. Because you feel it too.

You like each other.

Damn, you have liked him since he was only a manga character to you. How or why does he like you? You don't know. But there is something you do know…

You are not for him.

You aren't suppose to be here in the first place. You somehow believe that this world is real, that you traveled dimensions, simply because the pain you felt landing here was too great to fake it. Too real for your mind to just imagine it. But that's it.

You don't have any special talent to actually help or deserve being here. You don't have any reason to be here. You are as commonly mortal as you had always been, in exception to seeing curses. But here, there are normal humans who can see them too. You're not special.

And what happened yesterday only proves how weak you are.

You can't be with someone as strong as Gojo Satoru. He doesn't deserve it.

You suddenly feel something press against your forehead, and you know it's his when his breath collides with yours, his nose caressing yours delicately.

"Why?" He simply asks in a whisper.

You can't tell him what you actually think, it won't work. Gojo Satoru is known for being the kind of man who doesn't take a no for an answer if he doesn't have all the details. So you use logic. Cruel and horrible logic.

"I'm not supposed to be here," you begin, and he takes a deep breath in, ready to start to contradict you and protest. But you pull back a bit so you can talk looking at him in the eyes. "Satoru," his whole face shows how his name on your voice makes him melt a bit, falling more towards you. As if a magnet is pulling him towards you and he's not putting any force against it.

You want to melt in his embrace too, but you can't.

"We don't know how much time I'll be here. It could be years, or months, or weeks… Even days, hours…"

He shakes his head, his eyes clear in denial as his arms surround your waist, pulling you to him. But you're already so close to each other, you just take a step closer to be standing in between his now opened legs as he sits on the railing. Your hands lay on his biceps and your fingers pull the cloth of his jacket, in a desperate attempt you ground yourself and not give into him. He's making it so difficult as his hands caress your back.

You gulp when the intention is clear as water in his eyes. He wants to kiss you.

"I can't promise you anything…"

"I don't want promises. I want you."

Tingles ran through your body at his confession. And you want to cry. You want to drown in your tears and die so you don't have to say what you're about to.

"You know that if I have the chance, a minuscule opportunity to go back, I will take it. I have to," he cuts with the intense stare between your eyes and looks down, clearly hurt by your words. But you need him to understand. You grab his face between your hands, thumbs caressing the smooth skin of his cheeks and he leans into them, furrowing and arms tightening around your waist. Not wanting to let go.

Gojo opens his eyes again, and the pain in them is enough to break your heart in thousands of pieces inside your chest.

"Wouldn't you want to go back to your loved ones? Your friends? The ones you consider family?" He sighs, because even though he doesn't answer, it's a clear yes.

Tears slide down your cheeks, and Gojo hates them. Hates seeing you cry, in pain.

You don't say anything else. Simply connect your foreheads once more, indulging yourselves one more moment of closeness, of caresses that spoke volumes of how much you both wanted to be together.

After minutes like that, you finally move apart, and he closes his eyes. He doesn't want to watch you walk away from him, slide away from in between his finger like dropplets of water. He doesn't want to see your heart broken through your eyes.

And Gojo Satoru feels like crying when he feels your lips press against his forehead before you finally walk away.

He doesn't open his eyes, but he hears you. He hears you stroll as fast as you could towards your room, where you finally let your sobs free out of your chest.

Satoru finally looks up to the night sky, filled with shining stars that decorate the view beautifully and as he has never seen before. Maybe it's because there's been a massive clean of curses yesterday.

But it's not as pretty as you are. There will never be anything more gorgeous than you to him.

But Gojo Satoru coincides, "It is a beautiful night," a traitorous tear slides down his cheek. "As beautiful as you are."

#jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk gojo satoru #jjk fanfiction #jjk fanfic #jjk angst #jjk gojo #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #jjk x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru angst #gojo satoru x you #gojo fanfic #gojo angst #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x you

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eureka-its-zico · 6 months

Note

when the next chapter for chaos in their bones ??I’m sorry but I just finished the last chapter !! i need more 😫😫🙏🙏

Osiyo, Nonnie,

I’m currently finishing up Uni work and writing in between. I’ve been asked a few for a sneak peek into Ch. 8 so I’ll add that one here. Hope it helps :)

Chapter 8 Preview:

“You do that again to her Mosshead, and I’ll be the one there to pick up the pieces.”

Zoro’s eyes narrowed in on him, but Sanji wouldn’t flinch. Not when it came to Doc.

“You won’t be picking up shit-“

“Hey Zoro, not to but in-“

“You’re butting in.”

Usopp swallowed around his need to flee and stood his ground. Zoro had to give him props for that. He was sure he looked ready to slice them both in half at any minute.

“But maybe this could all be avoided if you just told Doc how you felt.”

Zoro looked away from them both. His eyes scanning every inch of the galley as he tried to imagine telling the woman who joined up with Arlong he had feelings for her. That all he wanted to do that night in the galley when she stood in front of him blanketed in moonlight and stars was to kiss her. To lace his hand into that stupid corset shirt Nami let her wear and keep her locked in place to where she couldn’t run away. Not anymore. Not ever again. What he settled on was, “I’m not good at talking. I hit things.”

“We know,” Usopp and Sanji both blurted out together, equally sounding like different pitches of annoyance.

“You’re a waiter. You don’t know anything about me, and you sure as shit don’t know anything about Doc.”

“I know a big green-haired idiot who would allow a beautiful and talented woman to get away from him when I see one.”

Yeah, Zoro was going to have to do something about this waiter. Every time he mentioned anything about you, it made him want to hit something and that something looked a lot like a certain blonde-haired waiter. He’d been wanting to do that since they left Baratie, but he’d been holding back the urge because he’d already knew what Luffy would do. Now though, Zoro felt like he could take whatever scolding Luffy might give him just to have the satisfaction of throwing Sanji overboard.

“I’m willing to bet I also know more about her than you do, at this point. Since, you know, talking is hard and all.”

Sanji sent a shit eating grin in his direction and Zoro hadn’t realized he’d started moving around the island until Usopp appeared next to him. A heavy, “Whoa, okay guys,” practically squeezed out of him with his arms lightly raised as if he was too scared to actually spread them out any farther to keep the two of them apart.

#anon #answered #Chaos in Their Bones preview #opla #roronoa zoro #vinsmoke sanji #usopp

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daydreamgoddess14 · 10 months

Text

Support System pt. 3

MASTERLIST

CH1 | CH 2

Roy Kent x Reader

Guys, I can't stop writing this. I cannot stop! Let's just whoooosh get it all out like a Roy Kent exorcism then I can move on... or something 😂 Thank you thank you thank you for reading/liking/reblogging/commenting - you're all aces 😘

Chapter 3

You’re not entirely sure how it happened, but Roy Kent was in your kitchen with a piping bag icing cupcakes. The table and just about every surface is covered in flour, batter and icing, the girls are on a sugar high and you’re fairly certain there’s purple frosting in your hair somewhere. At the park, Lexie had explained in great detail all of the baking you both intended on doing that afternoon, so the invitation for them to join you came naturally.

“Bit more there uncle Roy.” Phoebe instructs patiently.

“And there.” Lexie points. You pour from the kettle into two large cups and stir the coffee. While it rests for a minute, you get the next set of bakes out of the oven - chocolate chip cookies, and look for somewhere to set them down. While you’re surveying the chaos, you notice Roy has stopped icing cakes and is watching you. He points with the piping bag over your right shoulder.

“Space over there.” You put the pan down quickly, feeling the heat coming through the towel you used to get the hot tray out. You finish the coffees and put one in front of him as he finishes the last cake and you all sit back to observe your hard work. There’s a lemon drizzle cake for Phoebe to take to her nan’s house, a tray of scones for Lexie to take to her nan’s, vanilla cupcakes for Sara and chocolate for you and cookies to take to school. You reach forward to take a cupcake from the freshly frosted batch but Roy taps your hand away.

“Ouch!”

“Not that one, here.” He hands you one from further along the tray with extra icing. “Lexie said you’re obsessed with icing.” You smile and open up the paper case. Seeing you with a cake, the girls each take one.

“Can we eat it in the living room mum? I want to put Disney on.”

“P-?”

“Pleeeease?!”

“Go on then. You’re useless at cleaning up anyway.” The girls jump up and you soon hear the opening credits to Moana. Once you’ve finished your cake, you start at one end of the kitchen wiping surfaces and putting spoons and bowls into the sink. You’re a little surprised when Roy starts at the other end doing the same thing. At your third meeting at the sink, you notice the frosting on his cheek. “Oh, you’ve got a bit of-” without giving it a second thought, you reach up and swipe at his cheek with your thumb. He hums a little and you realise just how close you’re standing to one another. He takes a tiny step, placing one of his feet in between yours, a hand going to your hair,

“Yeah you’ve got a bit here.” The length of his body is not quite flush against yours, but there’s only millimetres to spare. His other hand goes to your hip, squeezing just a little and he leans down, his nose brushing against yours.

“Aagghhh mum!” A squeal from the living room interrupts you and you both spring apart. You’ve never been not kissed like that before in your life. Hell you’ve never been about to be kissed like that before. His lips hadn’t even touched yours but your skin was on fire, your heart racing. It takes a second for you to register Lexie calling you, but once you do you slip past him into the living room.

“What’s up?” You ask, breathless. How are you so breathless when nothing happened?!

“I dropped it.” Phoebe looked guiltily at the purple cupcake face down on the rug.

“Oh honey, don’t worry about it.” You drop to your knees to give her a hug. “Lexie drops food in here all the time, trust me, it’s no big deal.” You smile kindly and retrieve the cake. “Do you still want the cakey bit?” She nods so you get up to wipe off the excess frosting and take the cupcake back to her, then you clean up the little purple patch on the floor.

“Sorry about that, I’ll get you a new rug.” Roy says from the kitchen doorway.

“Oh don’t, honestly. I’m waiting for Lexie to move out before I get anything nice for this house.” You joke, ruffling Lexie’s hair on your way back to the kitchen. The moment has passed so you carry on with the big clean up while the girls watch their film. Once it’s over, you say goodbye to Roy and Phoebe at the door, wishing them a happy weekend and watching Roy for slightly longer than is generally acceptable. The rest of the weekend is gone in a flash with a visit to your parents for Sunday dinner and the usual routine of preparing for the week ahead. Sara had replied to you late in the evening to thank you for the cakes, I’m on early again tomorrow but will probably see you after school on Tuesday if you guys want to come for dinner? You agree and take the opportunity to message Roy for the first time, offering to take Phoebe to school the following day, as you had the previous Monday. She’d like that. If you’re going to work on the train again, I’ll drop you at the station. You can’t help the butterflies that flutter knowing that you’ll see him again the next day. The key to a successful Monday morning appeared to be Lexie knowing that she’d be going to school with Phoebe. Again, she got washed and dressed without arguing with you and you were out the door in record time. This time, when he passed a cup across the counter, you passed a plastic box with two cupcakes inside.

“You forgot these.”

“I brought Sara’s?”

“Yeah but these are for you.” You smile. He nods and takes the box with a little grin.

“Thanks. How’s your week looking?”

“Not too bad. I’ve got Lex til Thursday and then she’s with her dad for the weekend. How about you?”

“We’re off to Amsterdam.”

“Oh, wow! That sounds… fun?”

“It’s not like that. We’ve got a match.” You raise an eyebrow. Admittedly, your brain went straight to the very little you know about Amsterdam - women and drugs, rather than football and art.

“Yeah well, when in Rome and all that. Or Amsterdam.”

“No, not when in Rome. You wouldn’t catch me doing… anything like that.”

“Hmm. If you say so. I hear the women are all exhausted though.” You tease.

“I don’t intend to find out.” He says pointedly. The girls pile into the car and you drop them off at school. At the train station, you turn to say goodbye.

“Have a safe trip.”

“Thanks. See you next week probably.”

“... Probably.” Your phone pings in the middle of the night a couple of days later with a selfie of Roy and Jamie in front of a huge windmill. Nice view x You reply sleepily and put your phone away.

With no Lexie at the end of the week and into the weekend, you think more and more about what you and Sara had talked about in the weeks previously. As if she knew, a message arrived from Sara Phoebe is with her nan tonight. Fancy dinner out with wine and NO CHILDREN? You jump at the chance, confirming immediately and rushing to get showered and changed. You decide to stay in town and go to the new Italian in Paved Court, walking distance for the early evening, and just a short taxi ride home. You take out a dress you hadn’t worn before - when you’d tried it on, Andy had sneered at the deep, wrap front which hugged your breasts and the asymmetrical length which started at just above your knee but got longer in the back and grazed the back of your calves. The colour was a deep plum which brought out the auburn hints of your hair, the traces of red from your childhood were long gone. When you brought it, the dress had made you feel sexy - enhancing your curves and gently flowing over the imperfections. Andy’s comments had a lasting effect though and you were only wearing it now because everything else nice you owned was practically workwear. You really did have to stop wearing your nicer stuff to work. You met at the restaurant, going in, getting a table and ordering wine before Sara arrived.

“Started without me, love it!”

“Only half a glass, here.” You filled her glass and put the bottle back in the cooler.

“To a hot meal with no children.” You clink glasses happily. She tells you about her week, how Phoebe missed uncle Roy while he was away and the first bottle disappears quickly. You order another bottle and once you’ve finished your meals, you decide to get drinks around the corner at the Rose and Crown. The pub is bustling, but not too busy and you order drinks while Sara looks around for somewhere to sit. “Oh look! Roy’s here, let’s go annoy him.” She takes her drink from you and pulls you by the hand to the booth he’s sitting in with the other Richmond coaches. He watches you from the bar all the way to the booth but you can’t read his look at all, it’s not a familiar one. He introduces you to Coaches Beard and Lasso and they shuffle around to make space for you and Sara, one at either side of the booth. Sara is already standing next to the seat next to Coach Lasso which becomes spare, so you take the seat next to Roy. The seating is meant to be comfortable for four people so it’s a little snug with an extra person, you have to sit close to Roy to avoid falling off the seat but you don’t want to be presumptuous and sit too close either. He takes the decision away from you and slips an arm around your back, pulling your opposite hip further into the seat and closer to him. Your thigh presses against his and his hand doesn’t move from your hip where it’s just hidden by the knot of your wrap dress. You’ve had to turn your body slightly towards him so you can see and talk to the others, as you look down to get your drink, you realise that you’ve given him a front row seat to your cleavage. Your eyes shoot to the ceiling and you try firstly not to blush and secondly to act very nonchalantly about it. Sara however is the same two bottles of wine into the evening that you are and as she catches your eye, a giggle bursts from her and she’s suddenly laughing until there are tears in her eyes. Roy doesn’t say a word, just laughs at her and traces little circles into your hip with his thumb. You have a really great night - enjoying grown up company and conversation and not worrying about upsetting Andy when you get home, or waking Lexie. By the time last orders is called, you are probably the drunkest you’ve been in a long, long time. Roy says goodbye to coaches Beard and Lasso and takes both you and Sara by the arm to his car.

“Ha! Roy, you look like a right ladies man taking two women home!”

“Doesn’t count when you’re my sister.” He tells her affectionately.

“She’s not your sister.”

“Fucking good job, too.”

“What?” She asks loudly,

“Nevermind.” He tells her, she slides into the back seats and lies down, already half asleep. “Don’t go to sleep in my car, put your belt on.” He opens the passenger door for you and helps you up. The route he takes goes past Sara’s house first. He helps her out of the car and unlocks her front door. He’s gone for a few minutes while you fight the need for sleep in the car. “Sorry, just getting her water and painkillers.” The short drive to your house doesn't take long at all and he comes around to open your door for you and help you out.

“‘m fine, you don’t need to see me to the door.”

“Course I do, come on.” He lets you attempt to unlock the door but then takes your key gently from you and slots it into the lock. You turn to thank him, your heels bring you closer to his height but still a way off. You make an entirely alcohol based decision and lean up onto your tiptoes, your lips brush softly against his, your eyes fluttering shut. His hand goes around your waist to steady you and you can’t help the little sigh you make when you’re pulled closer to him. But it doesn’t last. He steps back away from you, his hand moving to your elbow. You open your eyes again and all you see in return is pity. Horror rises inside you and you move out of his grip, ashamed and embarrassed.

“Oh god, fuck. I’m sorry, shit, I’m so fucking sorry, I shouldn’t have-, fucking fuck. I’m so fucking stupid, why on earth would I think-” You grab for the door handle and back up away from him.

“No wait, it’s not-”

“Please forget that ever happened. God, I’m so fucking stupid. I’m sorry, I’m really sorry.” You plead a final time, desperate not to cry in front of him. You slam the door shut and flick the lock, pressing your forehead against the cool wood. With the door safely shut, your tears fall and you choke back a sob. On the other side of the door, Roy hears and goes to knock, but the sound fades as you move further into the house.

“Fuuuuck.” He growls, going back to his car.

#ted lasso #ted lasso fic #ted lasso fanfiction #roy kent fic #roy kent fluff #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent x reader #roy kent

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makeitmingi · 9 months

Text

Cause Baby You’re My Muse [Chapter 8]

Genre: Romance, Idol!AU, Music, Slight angst

Pairing: Mingi x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Producer!Reader, IdolLyricist!Mingi, IdolProducer!Hongjoong, Idol!Seonghwa, Idol!Yunho, Idol!Wooyoung, Idol!San, Idol!Yeosang, Idol!Jongho, cameo(s) by other celebrities

Summary: You always preferred producing underground, having an unknown face and governed by your own rules. But when you start freelancing for idol groups, you say goodbye to your lone wolf lifestyle as you learn to work with idol producers and lyricists.

Word count: 3.1K

“Before anything, I just want to apologise.” Eden said to you the moment you stepped out of the lift. You blinked in confusion, frowning slightly. You had just entered the office and was unsure of what was going on. The other members of Edenary stood there.

“What’s going on?” You tilted your head.

“Uhhh... Well, you see-” Maddox rubbed the back of his neck. Suddenly, the lift doors opened again and out came the 8 members of Ateez. They all had grins on their faces.

“Wait, I’m confused. What’s going on?” You looked between the producers and the idols.

“We’re going on a song camp! And Edenary has volunteered you as their representative to go.” Hongjoong explained. Your eyes widened.

“Going where? Their what?!” You turned to look at the producers for an explaination but they had seemingly disappeared into thin air. Wooyoung giggled, hooking arms with you.

“We have been wanting to do like a song camp of sorts for the group. And we thought it would be good for at least one person of the producing team to come with us. And you are that producer that’s going with us.” Yunho said.

“That’s nice and all but I’m busy. I have to work.” You slowly unhooked yourelf from Wooyoung’s arm and tried to walk to your studio.

“It’s okay! Eden hyung says you can go. He told us your calendar was open!” He grinned.

“Plus, he said you’ve never worked with us as a group before so this would be a good opportunity to do so! Learn each other’s habits and stuff. You know, for the future when we record together.” Yeosang added and everyone nodded in agreement. You pursed your lips, marching to Eden’s studio and banging on the door with your fist.

“Eden! How could you do this to me?” You yelled through the door. It took a while for Eden to actually come to the door, planning how to console you. You glared at him while he visibly gulped.

“Indigo, all of us had to work with the chaos before and soon, you will have to deal with it too.” He laughed nervously.

“But sending me on a song camp with them? I’ve never even done a song camp before, never had to!” You pointed out with a frown.

“You’ll be fine. Learn things about each other’s working styles so that recording and producing in the future will go that much smoother. Don’t worry.” Eden patted your head.

“Have fun too. You’ve been working too hard.” He added.

“I work enough.” You scoffed with your arms crossed. Eden slowly just closed the door, leaving you there.

“Wait, let me go pack up.” You sighed in defeat. The 8 boys cheered excitedly, following you as you shuffled to your studio. You stood in front of your set up, scratching your head in confusion.

“What do you pack for song camp?” You asked.

“Basically everything that can be packed for producing.” Hongjoong stood next to you to direct you. You pointed out what essentials you would need. Jongho, Yeosang and San did the heavy lifting, packing your equipment into boxes for you and bringing them out to the lobby.

“We’ll make sure all the equipment go with us safely. Luckily we rented a bus to be able to carry all our things. Someone will follow you to pack your stuff at home.” Jongho informed as he put the box down.

“Sure.” You nodded and went downstairs.

“The others went to the dorm to finish packing. I’m done so I’ll accompany you.” Wooyoung said as he opened the van door for you to get in.

“Thank you. Sorry for the trouble.” You apologised to the manager as you stepped in and took your seat.

“No trouble at all, Indigo. I’m sure you’re having it worst than me since this was sprung onto you out of nowhere.” The manager chuckled as he began to drive. You hummed in agreement.

“We’re going to have so much fun.” Wooyoung turned around to face you from his passenger seat.

“You’re supposed to go there for song camp, Wooyoung ah. It’s not just playing, you’ll be a part of the song writing and forming process. There’s a lot of useful things you can learn from this. Don’t make things difficult for Indigo.” The manager lectured, making Wooyoung pout and whine like a child. You snickered at his childlike behaviour.

When you arrived at your apartment building, you contemplated whether you should invite Wooyoung upstairs. In the end, you decided to. There were no secrets to hide. His manager left since the bus would come directly.

“Sorry for the intrusion... Wow, your house is so neat.” Wooyoung said as he removed his shoes at the doorway.

“More like empty. Hang on, let me get my clothes. Help yourself to the fridge and make yourself comfortable.” You spoke as you disappeared down the hall.

“Take your time!” He yelled back.

“What to pack?” You stood in front of your closet. You took out your duffel bag and just threw random clothes in. Then you went to the bathroom to pack some toiletries like soap, skin care, toothbrush and towels.

“Wait, Wooyoung?” You poked your head out. Wooyoung lifted his head from the yoghurt cup he was eating.

“I was going to ask where we are going so I know how to pack.” You chuckled, grabbing a napkin to wipe the side of his mouth for him.

“Oh, wood lands type. Hongjoong hyung found a really nice cabin in the woods. Think, Twilight Cullen’s house in the woods.” Wooyoung described. You laughed at his comparison but nodded.

“Done.” You brought your two bags out. Before leaving, you decided to make some snacks for everyone to have on the way to your destination. With what was in your fridge, you made sandwiches, rice balls and kimbap. Of course, Wooyoung was eager to help you.

“What can I do, chef?” He asked. You didn’t want him to dirty his clothes so you tied an apron around his waist. At most, you could change your clothes.

“I have kimbap ingredients in my fridge so it’s just cutting and assembly. You can do that while I do the sandwiches.” You told him. He saluted and waited for you to take everything out.

“We should hurry up since we don’t have much time.” Wooyoung said. You nodded and fried up some ham slices, as well as some simple vegetable omelettes. Luckily you had more than enough bread.

“More ketchup on mine, please.” He requested.

“Sure.” You laughed and assembled the sandwiches, wrapping them up and slicing them down the middle before bagging them.

“Wooyoung, Hongjoong, San, Mingi, Jongho, Yunho, Seonghwa, Yeosang.” You put labels on all of them. Since Hongjoong, San and Mingi didn’t like vegetables, you made plain omelettes for them.

“Sandwiches done.” You put them aside and made the rice balls. It was just seasoned rice with kimchi in the middle and the other type was salmon in the middle.

Once you and Wooyoung were done, you packed everything up. You put some yoghurt cups (mostly Haneul’s from when she stayed with you) and fruit into a cooler bag then packed the sandwiches, rice balls and kimbap into a separate bag. Wooyoung helped you carry them down. The bus was waiting when you came out of the lift.

“Sorry for making everyone wait. I made some snacks for everyone.” You bowed as the bus driver helped you load your things. Mingi grasped your hand as you stepped onto the bus.

“I helped!” Wooyoung smiled proudly. Yeosang helped you carry the bags of food as you settled down in your seat.

“Food?” Seonghwa poked his head out.

“Here you go. If it’s not enough, there’s kimbap and rice balls. There’s yoghurt cups and fruit too in the cooler bag.” You said, calling out their names and giving out the sandwiches to them.

“San, Hongjoong and Mingi have no vegetables in their omelettes. I know you don’t like vegetables.” You said.

“Thank you, Indigo.” They all chimed like a bunch of kindergarten children.

“I want a yoghurt first!” Hongjoong raised his hand. You handed the bag to him so he could choose the flavour that he preferred. Some of the boys sat together and others took two seats each to stretch their legs, you did the same. The boys were all eating their sandwiches first.

“Where’s your sandwich?” Yunho asked from behind you.

“Oh, I must have forgotten to pack one for myself. It’s okay, I can just eat the kimbap or a rice ball.” You said in realisation. Yunho carefully broke his sandwich in half and held it out to you.

“Food tastes better when you share.” He smiled. You received the sandwich half and lifted your mask to eat from the bottom.

Giving the boys food only seemed the energise them as they started a full blown karaoke session, with more yelling than actual singing. You laughed at their chaotic selves.

“Have you all been to a song camp before?” You asked. San sat in front of you while Mingi sat across the aisle.

“Only Mingi and Hongjoong hyung.” San said. You figured as much since the two rappers were rather involved in the whole song writing process.

“We take the opportunity to when we’re overseas. The others go for dance classes or vocal training while we are at song camp.” Mingi explained. You nodded, typing on your laptop to reply to emails.

“That eager to work already, Indigo?” Jongho asked.

“No, I’m replying to emails. I’m not going to look at my mailbox over the next couple of days. Only going to be focusing on Ateez and Ateez music.” You replied. There was a loud round of ‘aww’s at your statement, making your cheeks heat up. These boys were so reactive to anything. You just focused on finishing your current task.

“Indigo, do you have more food?” Seonghwa came and sat in the seat beside you. You nodded, putting your computer in his lap momentarily.

“Me too! Salmon rice ball, please.” Yunho peered over the seats. You handed Seonghwa a roll of kimbap and Yunho a salmon rice ball. Seonghwa grabbed another yoghurt for Hongjoong too.

“He likes yoghurt.” Seonghwa said.

“He’s like a child.” You giggled and Seonghwa nodded with a chuckle. With a pat on your head, Seonghwa returned to his seat.

As you finished your work, you popped pieces of kimbap into your mouth. It was easier to eat with a mask on since the pieces were smaller. When you were finished, you put your laptop aside and closed your eyes to sleep.

“Does anyone have a spare blanket?” Yunho asked when he noticed you sleeping without one.

“It’s okay.” Mingi got up from his seat, taking his own jacket and draping it over your legs. His eyes briefly scanned your face to make sure that your mask wasn’t out of place. With a small smile of satisfaction, he moved back to his own seat across the small aisle.

“We’re here! We’re here! We’re here!” Wooyoung’s excited yelling woke you up. You blinked and looked around, rubbing your eyes. Hongjoong was scolding Wooyoung for being too loud.

“Good morning.” Mingi stood in front of you. You lifted your hand to wave, noticing the blanket over your legs.

“Was worried you would get cold.” He explained.

“Thanks.” You croaked out. Mingi held his hand out to you to help you stand up, catching his blanket in the process. He folded it while you shook your legs to get the feeling back in them after sitting for so long.

“Hurry up, slowpokes!” San yelled from outside. The rest of you emerged from the bus with your bags.

“See? I told you! Cullen house.” Wooyoung jumped on you.

“You’re right.” You chuckled, looking up at the two storey modern cabin. The 9 of you unloaded everything from the bus and entered the cabin. Of course, the boys raced around the house to see how big it was.

“Everyone! Meeting in the living room first!” Hongjoong clapped. Seonghwa went around the get everyone out.

“Okay. So the basement will be used as the studio. We’ll help Indigo set up downstairs. Indigo will have her own room. The rest of us will split ourselves up to the remaining rooms. No one is to sleep in the studio downstairs while we are here. Yes, we are here to work but I still want everyone to sleep in a proper bed.” Hongjoong said. Everyone turned to you.

“What?” You blinked. The others knew Hongjoong’s last statement was aimed at you and your habit of working through the night or sleeping in your studio. While the boys chose their rooms, you unpacked your own bags.

“You have your own bathroom so you don’t have to share with us.” Yeosang smiled as he put your second bag down.

“Thanks.” You laughed. After hanging your clothes up, you unpacking your toiletries.

“Do you need help to unpack the studio?” Mingi poked his head in.

“Yeah, I’m just about to head down.” You stood up. Mingi walked down with you. Hongjoong was already setting up the small recording booth, adjusting the wiring and microphone.

“How did you find a house that has a room exactly like a recording booth?” You were amazed.

“Actually the owners built this place with a recording studio for their kid. But didn’t work out so they just rent it as it. That’s why the glass separation is there but no other equipment or sound proofing reinforcement.” Hongjoong said.

“Interesting...” You hummed. Whoever was done unpacking their personal stuff came down to help you, Mingi and Hongjoong set up. Since you didn’t need all 8 of them, 4 of them decided to go to the supermarket to pick up food and drinks for the house.

“Is here okay?” Jongho asked. You gave him a thumbs up. While you were setting up, Mingi helped you figure out the wiring and connections.

“Sorry, let me take this.” You looked at your phone and saw that it was the number from the phone you gave Haneul. It only had your number in it and she knew it was only used to contact you.

“Yeah, baby?” You answered as you stood on the outside deck.

“Unnie, ahjumma said you’re not gonna come to see me? I wanna to show you what I did in school.”

“Yeah... Just this time, baby. I’m sorry, unnie has work. I’ll see you next week. Then you can show me what you did in school.” You rubbed your forehead. Haneul speaks well for her age but she also comprehends words well.

“Okay...”

“Don’t pout, baby. I’m sorry.” You didn’t really know how to make her feel better from where you were. The fact was that she’s disappointed and rightfully so.

“Why don’t you tell me what you have been doing? Hmm? I miss you and want to hear your voice.” You cooed, trying to convince her to talk about something else. Luckily, she gave in.

Seonghwa had called to ask if there were any special requests for dinner. Mingi came out of the studio to ask if there was anything you wanted. He scratched his head, looking around for you. That was when he caught a glimpse of your figure standing out on the deck. He could tell you were smiling under your mask, a longing look in your eyes as you looked at the ground.

“Indig-”

“Yes, I promise... I’ll see you next weekend... I love you too.” He heard a glimpse of your call. Mingi froze, your voice was filled with so much adoration and love, he had never heard you speak like that before.

“You can always call me.” You chuckled. Finally regaining strength in his legs, Mingi turned around and headed into the house.

“What took you so long, Mingi ah? Did you find Indigo?” Hongjoong asked.

“Umm... She’s still on the phone. And it seemed important so I didn’t want to bother her.” Mingi tried not to stutter as he spoke. He ignored the slight, foreign tightness in his chest.

“Are you okay?” Yeosang tilted his head. Mingi nodded, clearing his throat and went back to sorting the wiring.

“Sorry about that. Where were we?” You came back a few moments later.

“What else do you have to sort?” Jongho asked. Looking around, everything was more or less done. Hongjoong also seemed done with the recording booth. You connected your laptop to the secondary monitor and turned the entire system on to make sure it worked.

“Ah, ah. Can you hear me?” Hongjoong tapped on the mic from inside the recording booth.

“Loud and clear. Can you hear me?” You asked back through the mic. Hongjoong gave a thumbs up and came out. Mingi tested the built in ceiling speakers, connecting his phone to the bluetooth.

“Not the best but it will work.”

“Agree. Thanks for doing the wiring, Mingi.” You thanked. Mingi waved you off, it wasn’t a big deal. You all went upstairs and just in time, the grocery team was back.

“All done setting up?” San asked. You nodded, falling onto the couch with a yawn, already feeling tired. Giggling, Wooyoung came over and laid himself over you, pulling you in to cuddle with him.

“Are you sleepy?” Wooyoung stroked your head.

“A little. I feel like I’ve been sleeping or resting the whole day though. And setting up the studio wasn’t too hard so I’m surprised I feel tired.” You confessed. Wooyoung laughed, you were adorable to him. You wanted to help the others put the groceries away since Wooyoung had clearly abandoned them but the boy weighed you down.

“No! Don’t go!” He shook his head like a child. You sighed, not wanting to fight him on this. If someone had told you in the past that you would be in this current situation, you would have laughed in their face.

And yet, here you were. Laying on the couch in a cabin with a kpop idol wrapping his limbs around you.

“Let’s divide the cooking and cleaning duties.” Yunho said.

“I’ll help with cooking.” You raised your arm from your position on the couch. Wooyoung did the same. Looks like you, Seonghwa, Wooyoung and Mingi were in charge of the cooking.

“I can help too.”

“No. You’re on clean up.” Seonghwa denied Hongjoong.

“Ah, why?” Hongjoong whined, outraged.

“Cause your cooking sucks, hyung.” Jongho stated plainly. You and Wooyoung snickered at his straightforwardness while Hongjoong yelled at the youngest for being insulting.

“Puppy pile!”

“Noooooo!” You and Wooyoung yelled as multiple bodies fell and stacked themselves on top of you.

Series Masterlist

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j0kers-light · 5 months

Note

Friendly reminder that you’re amazing💕💕 I know things have been stressful and a downer for you lately, but just know that you’re loved and cared about🫂 You’re doing great bb!!! 💜💚 I’m cheering you on!!!!

Omg pls don’t stab me! I know I’m in the trenches this month and I’m trying to pull myself out!

You all deserve a beautiful story! Right now my brain is mush and nothing worth reading is coming out. I acknowledge each and every kind word sent my way as I fight through this rut to update the story! Who knew trying to write smut while getting over a crush could be so difficult?

#thanks for the check in #thanks for being patient #chaos is not a happy camper rn #chaos is hard at work getting the next chapter finished

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theywhowriteandknowthings · 5 months

Text

The Princess and the Duke Chapter 5: Ready to Fall.

Co-authored by @angelofsmalldeath-codeine ILU Hemmy <3

This blog is a 18+ space, Minors, do not engage. If you are under the age of 18 you are not welcome here. Your reading and consumption of my work is your responsibility but I will endeavour to mitigate any discomfort for you, the reader, as possible. Once again, this is a 18+ space and minors should not interact.

Specific Warnings: Allusions to smut, angst, heartbreak, stepcest(in bold, this is heavy on the issues around this), traumatic childhood, looking after parents as a child, sutures, mentions of past abuse, sad face Dave, crying? Lots of crying.

Let me know if I missed anything!

Graphic made by me, no use of Y/N. Wordcount: 4.5k

[Read on Ao3]

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You throw a bag of popcorn in the microwave and lean back against the counter as you try and make sense of the chaos of the last twenty-four hours. Dave is downstairs, having grumbled something about smelling like a hospital before heading to his bedroom.

~*~

Dave finishes up in the shower just as he hears his phone ring from the other room. He curses under his breath as he pulls on a pair of sweatpants before seeing the caller ID. His heart rate picks up as he answers immediately.

“Resnik,” he says curtly as he walks back into the shower, turning the faucet back on to cover why he’s not back with you on the sofa already. He turns on the extractor fan for added effect.

“You’re not going to believe who just turned up to my PI firm.”

“My wife?” Dave smiles to himself as he hears Resnik bark out a short laugh.

“How’d you know?”

“I’d be pretty shit at my job, Resnik, if I couldn’t keep tabs on my own fucking wife.”

“Fair enough, well, do you know what she wants me to do?”

“Catch me fucking her daughter?” Dave hears you on the phone in the other room. He doesn’t want to spend any more time talking about this than he has to.

“Bingo! So, what do you want me to do, boss?”

“Do what the woman asks, you won’t find anything of course, but don’t be sloppy. Surveil the shit out of me and make it look good.”

“And if I do catch anything?” Resnik asks and Dave can hear the smile on his face.

“You won’t.”

Dave hangs up before Resnik can get another word in, he turns off the shower and checks himself out in the mirror, opting to keep the shirt off. He knows what the grey sweatpants do to you. He smirks at himself as he ruffles his hair a little. Once satisfied he heads back out into the basement.

~*~

Even though Dave is playing it cool you know he’s anything but ok. Your phone vibrates on the counter as your mom calls for the third time this afternoon. You consider ignoring it like all the others, but you relent, you probably shouldn't keep ignoring her. You pop the microwave open and retrieve the bag of popcorn, upending it into a bowl as you answer.

“Hey mom, what’s up?”

“Hey, sweetie, just letting you know I’ll be away for the weekend. Something came up with Danielle and I need to be there for her.”

Your jaw ticks to the side as you try and keep calm. You’re already heading back downstairs, phone tucked under your ear as you balance the bottles of water and the bowl of popcorn while trying not to fall down the steps.

“Oh no, is she ok?” You feign concern as you lay back against the sofa, pinching the bridge of your nose as you listen to the lies pouring so easily from your mother’s mouth. You set down the popcorn and Dave’s water bottle as you take a swig from your own.

“She and her husband are having a hard time, you remember that prenup you drew up for them. Well, it’s proving necessary.”

“That so? Sorry to hear it, but happy I could help.”

“Anyway, I should be home sometime on Wednesday. If you need anything let me know, ok?” You can hear the urgency in her voice now, she wants to get you off the line. She’s done the bare minimum and checked in, parental responsibility fulfilled. Box ticked.

“Ok, what about Dave?” You say as neutrally as you can muster.

“What about him, sweetie? Is he bothering you?” You can hear the panic in your mom’s voice, followed by a man’s voice in the background. You roll your eyes, it’s too cliché to even be funny. She shushes the other person as you try not to explode at her.

“He just got back from the hospital, pretty banged up. You know anything about that?”

“Oh, sweetie, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Probably went out and got into a bar fight, he’s always coming home with split lips and concussions. I’ll check on him in a bit.”

“Right, sure. Well, have fun with Danielle,” you don’t even try to hide the venom in your voice, but your mom doesn’t seem to notice.

“I will, thanks, sweetie. Don’t let Dave bother you. He’s a grown man, he can look after himself.”

“Uh-huh, bye mom.”

“Bye, sweetie, see you Wednesday!”

The line goes dead, and you close your eyes. You almost want to laugh at the ridiculous nature of the call. It’s all so surreal.

“She spending the weekend with Danielle?”

You yelp as you look up to see Dave giving you a sad smile, his hair still wet from the shower as he leans against the doorframe. You frown as you notice that he’s only wearing a pair of grey sweatpants.

“How’d you know it was her?” You challenge as he saunters over before settling in the middle of the sofa next to you.

“Danielle has been going through a lot recently, seems like your mom is there more often than she’s here.” Dave says with a humourless smile, his eyes flashing with thinly veiled anger.

“Seems like it,” you grumble as you grab the throw blanket from the back of the sofa, “You should be wearing more clothes.”

“Don’t like what you see?” Dave challenges as he gives you a sideways look, the smile on his face genuine this time. It makes your heart flutter, the way he’s looking at you with a challenge in his dark eyes.

“Of course I do,” you roll your eyes as you wrap the blanket around his shoulders, “But you’re no good to me if you freeze to death.”

“Point taken,” he concedes as he wraps an arm around you, pulling you in close as he makes sure you’re covered too. You breathe in as you press against his side, your one hand splayed across Dave’s abs as you nuzzle against his chest.

“So, she pretended that she didn’t even know about your head injury. Is she just going to act as if it didn’t happen?”

You ask, unsure if you’re crossing a line as you pick up the remote to start a new episode of ‘Parks and Rec’ but you’re not really paying attention. You lean back against Dave, wrapping the fleece throw blanket around you both as you try to make sure he’s covered and warm. You look down to the coffee table at the bowl of popcorn you’d made while Dave was in the shower and your stomach growls.

“Seems that way,” Dave says as he lets out a noncommittal grunt, clearly not wanting to talk about it.

“She’s such a bitch,” you grumble as you lean forward to grab the bowl of popcorn from the coffee table. Dave doesn’t respond to that, but the moment the bowl is within reach he grabs a piece and lifts it to your mouth. His dark eyes scanning your face for rejection, but he finds none.

You feel heat rise to your cheeks as you let him feed you the small morsel, his fingertips ghost along your lips. It’s somewhat a habit of his, whenever you share food, he makes sure you take the first bite. It makes your stomach flutter every time.

Dave’s phone buzzes on the coffee table and you feel him tense up under you. Your eyes flick to the offending object and you lean forward to set it to Do Not Disturb as a message from Nancy comes through.

“Not going to let me answer that?” Dave asks, his voice low, almost disapproving.

“Nope, I want to spend some real time with you, Dave, just you.”

“She’s just going to be covering her ass anyway, it won’t be important.”

Dave grunts in assent at this as you settle back against him, occasionally feeding popcorn to one another as the episodes play out on the screen. You’re barely watching though, focusing on making sure Dave is covered at all times and making sure he’s eating.

“I’m concussed, not dying,” Dave says eventually as he presses his lips to the crown of your head.

“I know, sorry, I’m just not used to looking after someone not in immediate danger.”

“What do you mean?” Dave asks as he leans back, dark eyes searching your face as the episode is forgotten.

“Just,” you pause, trying to determine how much you want to share, “Mom was drunk, a lot, when I was a kid.”

“And it fell to you to look after her?”

“Pretty much, she sometimes had boyfriends and husbands but most of the time it was left to me.”

“That’s,” Dave pauses as he sighs heavily, “a lot.”

“I learned a lot of basic first aid, so it’s not all bad,” you chuckle, an automatic smile ghosting your lips as you recall some of the more morbid memories, “I sewed my first suture when I was twelve.”

Dave almost chokes on his water as he hears this, eyes wide. Even with all his training to remain neutral, this catches him off guard. You feel a wash of shame and fear course through you, and you flinch. Dave sees your reaction and his face softens immediately, a hand coming up to cup your jaw, but he stops himself.

“Hey, I’m not judging you,” his voice is soothing, low and non-threatening, like he’s talking to a frightened animal, “I just didn’t know.”

“It’s ok, we’ve all got our own fucked up baggage, right?”

You take his hand in your own and press your cheek into his palm. You hum softly as the warm press of skin-on-skin grounds you.

“It’s not ok,” he says, bringing his other hand up so he’s cupping your face with both, “You didn’t deserve to go through that.”

“I know, but it is what it is, y’know? She’s my mom, I did what I had to do.”

But your words sound hollow – even to you – as you remember the countless times you’d been forced to parent your own mother, let alone yourself. Dave rubs his thumbs over your cheekbones, his brow is creased like he wants to say something but can’t.

“Hey,” you say as you circle your fingers around his wrists, “Let me go grab a take-out menu so we can order in some proper food?”

Dave nods, welcoming the change of topic as his stomach growls loudly. You both chuckle at the sound.

“Sure, sounds like a plan.”

~*~

“We bought too much food, didn’t we?”

You look at the take-out containers littered across the coffee table and laugh as Dave shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly. You’d convinced him to put on a shirt when he went to get the take-out from the driver, grumbling about him catching his death. He’d relented, even putting on a hoodie just to make you happy.

“I don’t know, I’m pretty fucking hungry,” he grins at you with bright eyes, his cheek dimpling as he pops open one of the cartons.

“Same,” you admit as you start opening the rest of the cartons. There is definitely too much food.

You pile up your plate and soon you’re both eating your fill, a pleasant, peaceful silence filling the room. Your knees bump occasionally as you lean forward to refill your plates. Heat floods your cheeks when you catch Dave stealing glances at you.

“So, mom said you have kids, mind if I ask about them?”

“Go for it, what do you want to know?”

“Boys or girls?” You ask before taking a bite and chewing slowly as you wait for the answer.

“Two girls, Molly and Alice.”

“How old?”

“Molly’s ten, Alice is eight.”

“Do you miss them?”

Dave’s smile falters as you watch him mull over his response before answering.

“All the time,” he says as he cocks his head at you, as if trying to figure you out but he says nothing more.

“How old are you, Dave?” You almost regret asking but Dave’s lips twitch up.

“Thirty-seven, why?”

“No reason, just would have thought you were older with two kids and two marriages under your belt,” you pause and scoff at the irony, “but it makes sense, she always liked her men younger.”

Dave’s brow arches at the comment but doesn’t press the issue, clearly not willing to dig that deep tonight.

“It would have been one marriage, but Carol realised she isn’t as much into men as she once thought.”

“Oh,” you wince at your misstep and try to back pedal, “I’m sorry, Dave, I didn’t mean to bring it up like that.”

Dave waves his fork at you, his face a picture of amusement as he watches you fumble over your own words.

“It’s fine, Carol and I are best friends. It’s not a sore spot, not anymore.”

You lapse back into silence as you continue eating way too much food. You steal glances at Dave from time to time, smiling giddily when you catch him doing the same. You know so little about Dave, but the simple act of eating with him makes your chest flutter. It’s domestic and sweet and all too comfortable.

“Why’d you stop practicing law?” Dave asks as he shovels another portion of food onto his plate.

“I guess I just got a bit sick of the corporate grind,” you shrug, pushing your food around the plate as you try to give him a proper answer. The truth is, you were never happy but it’s what your mom wanted of you.

“And I bet Nancy just loved being able to flaunt your success to everyone that would listen?”

“It’s like you’re reading my mind there, Dave,” you say, shaking your head as you meet his sympathetic gaze, “But yeah, it was yet another thing I did for my mom.”

“Have you ever done something just for you? Something that makes you happy? Or just because you wanted to do it?”

His question catches you off guard and you’re almost angry at the insinuation, but you sigh as you shake your head.

“Cam Dolls. This was the first thing I chose for myself ever. I love the work. It’s freeing.”

You cringe as you realise how stereotypical your answer is but it’s the truth.

“I’m glad, because you’re damn good at it.”

“Thanks,” you smile at him, your cheeks burning at the praise, “That means a lot.”

There’s another pause as you feel jealousy rear its head, twisting itself around your stomach as you think about the fact Dave might watch other streamers.

“So, you follow many other Cam Dolls accounts?” You ask, eyes downturned as you try to brace for the sting of reality.

“Nope. Just you. Only time I came close was the day I picked you up, you don’t stream on Fridays and that car ride was intense.”

You look up, eyes wide as you search Dave’s face for any signs of deception. He smiles softly at you, shoulders relaxed as he holds your gaze. You’re caught off guard, you don’t know how to feel about that. Pleased? Guilty for casting aspersions on Dave as a form of self-sabotage? Do you want him to watch other people to make it easier for you to distance yourself?

“What do you get out of it? I mean is it the watching someone get off?”

You pivot in your line of questioning, not wanting to linger on the way it makes you feel special to be his only subscription.

“I hope this isn’t too much information,” he starts, looking down at his food, exhaling softly as he considers whether or not to continue, “But your mom and I don’t exactly fuck, at all.”

His tone comes across bitter, angry. The harsh language only confirming the resentment as you fumble for something to say.

“How long?”

The question leaves your lips before you can stop it, a traitorous spark of hope spurring you on.

“Since she and Danielle, got so close. Pretty much straight after our honeymoon.”

There it is, the unspoken admission that he knows about Bryce, he knows about the cheating. He’s all but said it now and your stomach twists while you try and process the confirmation. But it tracks, your mom never did stick to just one guy for long.

“Then you know she’s violated your prenup, right? She can’t hang it over you?”

Your brain switches into full lawyer mode. You’ve not had a chance to consider any of the ways to exploit it, you’ve been far too busy looking after Dave. But immediately you can poke fist sized holes in the agreement, even without the cheating clause.

“How’d you know about the prenup?”

Dave’s eyes are stone cold as you return your gaze to him, his jaw is set to the side, nostrils flared. You feel the anger rolling off him in waves as he silently demands an answer. You don’t know why he’s suddenly so tense, but that you know about it clearly has him on edge.

“I was the one who drafted it. But I thought it was for Danielle.”

“For Danielle? But she’s not even married-?” Dave cuts himself off as his anger quickly melts into incredulity. His eyes crease at the corners as he lets out a short laugh before slumping back against the couch. It’s like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders as he considers the ammunition to void it. You being the presiding council for the prenup was the missing piece for him, the sure-fire way he could get it thrown out in court.

“Makes it even easier to break now huh?”

“Wow, I’d have been utterly fucked if it weren’t void for the fact that you’re not licensed to practice in Texas. I’m impressed.”

And all the other reasons.

You think to yourself as you consider how many other ways it’s void now you take the time to think about it. Unconscionability for one, you didn’t know who it was being drawn up for, you can’t be considered independent council. Conflict of interests since one of the parties is your own mother. There’s more but you can’t think of it off the top of your head.

You look down at your plate, bashful at the way Dave looks at you. He’s impressed and it makes you feel weak at the knees the way he looks at you, like you’re competent. Worthy.

“It was nothing, ‘thought I was doing mom’s friend a favour,” you shrug, deflecting praise as always. You’d just written it up as a favour to your mom, it was no big deal.

“You don’t have to do that with me,” he says softly as he looks you up and down, a warmth in his eyes that makes you want more than you’re allowed to want from him.

“Do what?”

“Put yourself down, minimise your achievements.”

You don’t know what to say, it feels like your heart could break as he sees through your carefully curated mask. The confident, but not brash daughter. The smart but not too smart overachiever. The muted version of yourself that you cling to like a life raft.

“I just- I’m just not used to people actually giving enough of a damn to want to see me succeed. I guess.”

“That’s their loss.”

You can hear the anger in his voice. He’s clever enough to piece together what you’re saying, he knows his wife well enough to catch your meaning.

“You didn’t answer my question,” you say as you set your plate down, turning to look at him, “You know about the cheating, you knew the prenup was invalid, regardless of my involvement making it void.”

Dave’s jaw ticks to the side as he puts his plate down, a wince twisting his face into a snarl as he clutches his head. You want to lean over and touch his arm, comfort him, but you don’t.

“Yes, I do.”

“Then why do you stay?”

Do you still love her?

You think to yourself, but you can’t say it aloud, too afraid of the answer.

“It’s complicated.”

“Complicated, sure. Like fucking your stepdaughter isn’t complicated.”

You snap, tears flowing down your cheeks as you feel jealousy and self-loathing weighing you down. You feel pathetic, your premature and downright inappropriate feelings making you act like a spurned teenager. You shouldn’t have brought it up, you should have just left it alone. Left Dave alone.

Dave opens and closes his mouth a few times before falling silent, shutting down like you’ve seen him do around your mother when he has to hold his tongue. He turns away from you, a blush creeping up his face as he sees your tears. That hurts the most, seeing him close himself off the way he does with your mom.

You’re just like her.

Your inner voice mocks you as you suddenly feel a hollow dread form in the pit of your stomach.

“I’m going to box up these leftovers,” you wipe your eyes harshly with a napkin, “Don’t get up, I don’t need your help, and you should be resting.”

You snap as you watch him shift on the sofa, trying to stand and help. He pauses, eyes flashing with defiance before conceding. You smile to yourself at how petulant he looks, jaw ticked to the side as he watches your every move.

You box up anything worth keeping before stowing it back in the plastic bag it came in, grateful to have a distraction as your mind races. You feel something for Dave, and it hurts. It hurts that you know there can never be anything between you, that this arrangement can’t last.

But you try and bury it as you head up the stairs, focusing on the task at hand. You store everything neatly at the back of the fridge, hiding it behind bottles of sauces and some Greek yoghurt so your mom is less likely to find it and throw it in the trash.

You turn and yelp as you almost crash into Dave’s chest, you hadn’t heard him follow you back upstairs. He’s looking down at you with a hunger that makes your breath hitch in your chest.

“Thank you,” his voice is low, husky, as he eyes you up and down. You swallow heavily as you look up through your lashes at him.

“Don’t have to thank me, you’re hurt,” you shrug as you try not to fawn up at him, you’re feeling more than lust as he lingers over you. Your hands are balled at your sides as you have to fight the urge to pull him down and kiss him. You can smell his spiced shampoo and his deodorant, he’s so close it’s intoxicating.

“Still, I’m grateful.”

He seems to hesitate, licking his lips as he holds your gaze for a little too long. Dave waited until you’d finished at the fridge, knowing that it’s the only blind spot in the kitchen. Resnik is good, but he can’t see through walls. It’s risky but he doesn’t care, he needs you right now.

“Can I kiss you?”

He asks, the breathy rasp of his voice makes you shiver as you clench your thighs together. You ache for him, but you’re already far too emotional right now.

“Dave, we can’t,” you protest meekly as you press your palms feebly against his chest, “Your head.”

“Don’t care.”

“I said, no.”

Your voice is stronger than you’d expected, and it seems to sober him. His expression hardens and he nods curtly. You kind of want him to push, to be an asshole just like every other man that came before. It would make what you’re about to do so much easier. You step past him, trying to ignore the way his shoulders droop in defeat as you go.

“Well, I’m going to head to bed, rest up and all that.”

You’d give anything to go back downstairs, to cuddle and forget the pain, forget the feelings burning in your chest. But you can’t, you have to stop this.

“Sounds like a good plan,” you nod, avoiding his gaze as you side-step him, “I’m going to call Ash and stay there for a while.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Dave’s voice breaks as he speaks, and you can’t help but turn and face him. Your heart breaks as you see the lost look in his eyes. Gone are the stone-cold looks, perfectly constructed barriers. All you see is Dave, broken, vulnerable, afraid.

“I do, and you know it.”

“You shouldn’t feel uncomfortable in your own home,” he says, almost without thinking and your mouth falls open. You don’t know what to say.

“It’s not my home though, is it? That’s kind of the problem.”

You don’t wait for Dave to respond, practically sprinting upstairs as you pull out your phone. You can barely see the screen as you dial Ashleigh’s number, setting it to speaker before throwing it on the bed.

“Hey babe,” Ash answers on the second ring, “What’s up?”

“I need to stay with you for a while. Getting an Uber, I’ll explain when I get there,” you choke out through heavy sobs, your chest heaving as you pull up the Uber app. You hear the jingle of keys on the other end of the line, and you smile despite yourself.

“Fuck that, I’m on my way, hold tight,” Ash orders down the line, “You at your mom’s?”

“Yeah.”

“Be there in twenty.”

“Thanks, Ash, I love you.”

“Love you too, I’ll be there soon.”

She hangs up and you sit down, letting yourself sob for a little while before packing everything you need, including your laptop just in case you need to stream.

You storm back downstairs with your laptop bag and suitcase in tow. You feel your heart clench in your chest as you see Dave hasn’t moved an inch, ghostly pale as he stares into the mid-distance. He doesn’t even register your presence until you’re marching through the door.

“Wait,” he calls after you as he follows you, but he stops at the threshold, hesitant to head out onto the porch.

“I’ve got nothing to say to you Dave, don’t call me, don’t text me.”

“Please, don’t go,” his voice is desperate as he calls after you.

“Do you still love her?”

You turn on your heel as you see Ash parking up at the end of the drive. You stare him down as he hesitates. You know what he’s going to say before he even opens his mouth.

“It’s-,”

“Complicated? Yeah, I figured,” you spit as you charge down the steps, fresh tears springing forth as you yell over your shoulder as you load your bags into the trunk of Ash’s car. You pause, hating the way his face lights up as turn to look at him from the car, “You and my mom are fucking perfect for each other.”

You hold Dave’s gaze as you slam the door behind you. You fasten your seatbelt and tell Ash to drive before you curl up into a ball letting yourself grieve for a loss you have no claim to.

<- Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter ->

Join my Taglist hereTag list: @pr0ximamidnight @ktheunready @harriedandharassed @survivingandenduring @wannab-urs @neverwheremoonchild @noisynightmarepoetry @casa-boiardi @xoxabs88xox @guelyury @its-nebuleuse @deadly-femme-bimbo @covetyou @christinamadsen @mirandablue1 @clawdee @youandmeand5bucks-blog @hiddenbabynyc @stevie75 @star017 @darkheartgatita @patti7dc @pastelnap @beskarandblasters @jksprincess10 @beefrobeefcal @anoverwhelmingdin @pedroshotwifey @bitchwitch1981 @ @dameron-grant-spector @livingdeadmaria @cantbenameds-blog @nashja @casa-boiardi

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dystopicjumpsuit · 10 months

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Turn It Up When You're Gone (1/2)

Starting my fic migration off with a bang! This is by far my most popular work on AO3, because people be horny. Delta Squad/Republic Commando girlies, come get y'all juice!

Rating: Mature/18+/Minors DNI

Pairing: Sev x Fem!Reader

Wordcount: 2.9k

Summary: You are a GAR analyst, and your job is to process clone trooper helmet feeds. Being surrounded by incredibly handsome, competent troopers makes it hard to keep a professional distance, but you've managed. Until now.

Warnings: SMUT; voice kink, praise kink, body worship

Next chapter | Masterlist

You love your job. As a GAR tactical analyst assigned to the Venator-class Star Destroyer Guarlara, you spend your days immersed in clone trooper helmet feeds. It might seem boring or tedious to some, but with your keen eye for detail and extensive knowledge of tactics, it is as close to a perfect occupation as you can imagine.

Besides, the clones are pretty entertaining. You always love the snippets of banter that pop up in their comm feeds, from gallows humor, to good-natured mockery, to genuine awe or delight at a new planet. Seeing the galaxy from the perspectives of these men, who have seen too little of beauty and too much of the chaos and horror of war in their short lives, gives you a new appreciation for its wonders.

At first, you try to maintain some professional distance from the troopers, if only to preserve your sanity when so many of them are lost in each engagement, and you have the responsibility of watching as their helmet feeds fade to black. But it isn’t easy. The battlefield camaraderie you witness in their feeds continues onboard the Guarlara, and you can’t help being pulled into it. You make friends with a few clones, and every time they go on a mission, you hold your breath until they come back safely.

It doesn’t help your resolve to keep them at arm’s length that you are surrounded by incredibly handsome, competent soldiers in peak physical condition. Several of your fellow nat-born analysts have already had flings with clones, and by all accounts, the experience is worth the risk of official reprimands or even demotions. You haven’t done it yourself—yet—but you’ve been tempted.

And the temptation just got one thousand times stronger.

A new clone commando unit has been temporarily assigned to the Guarlara: Delta squad. Regular clone banter is entertaining, but the Deltas are on a whole different level. Boss is all business, and Fixer is quiet and by-the-book, but Scorch and Sev are hilarious. You often have to bite your lip to keep from bursting into unprofessional laughter at their antics, even as you are blown away by their tactical prowess.

You find yourself saving the Delta feeds for the end of your work cycle, just so you can finish your day on a high note. Sometimes, you wish you could get your hands on some Mantell Mix while you’re watching the feeds. They’re better than any holoflick you’ve ever seen. If only they could be released to the public; they would make a blockbuster action comedy.

But there’s another reason you are quickly becoming obsessed with the Delta feeds.

The first time you hear Sev’s voice, you gasp, and prickles run down your neck. He sounds different from the other clones: deep, gravelly, menacing. Incredibly sexy. You often find yourself replaying snippets of his comm feed, just so you can hear him speak. Whether he is making a dark joke, tallying his kills, or snarling at an enemy, his voice never fails to make you breathe a little faster.

You have never met the squad, never seen their faces, though you’ve seen them in their distinctive armor around the ship. The commandos mostly keep to themselves. You aren’t even sure which armor belongs to which commando, though you would bet every credit of your cycle’s pay that Sev is the one with the helmet painted to look like a bloody handprint.

You know that the commandos were the same height as all the rest of the clones, but somehow, they seem larger. More solid. Far more intimidating. Maybe it is the armor, but you doubt it. And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about what Sev looks like under all that bulky commando armor. Lying in your bunk during your sleep cycle, you picture him. Copper skin, curly black hair, eyes the color of amber. Hard, sculpted muscles. Broad shoulders, narrow hips that flex against yours, driving his thick cock deep inside you until you whimper his name. And of course, you imagine his voice: deep and dark, murmuring the filthiest words in your ear as he pounds into you with that incredible clone commando stamina.

When you meet up with your fellow analysts for lunch in the mess hall, you confess that a clone has finally caught your eye—or more correctly, your ear.

“He has the sexiest voice I’ve ever heard,” you say, keeping your volume low so as not to attract attention from the troopers eating at nearby tables or milling around in small groups.

“They all do,” laughs Drinna. “They’re clones!”

“This one is different,” you insist. “It’s so deep and growly. He sounds so… dangerous.”

Jeelee shivers next to you, and you don’t blame him. None of your friends can deny that the rush of adrenaline is at least a small part of their attraction to the clone troopers. There’s just something about a soldier who has been trained from birth to be a killing machine that activates your fight, flight, or fuck response.

“Stars, I never thought I’d get turned on listening to someone yelling, ‘Trando scum,’” you say with an uncertain laugh. “If it weren’t a massive security breach, I’d try to smuggle some of his feeds into my bunk for a little private viewing session.”

Drinna snorts with laughter, and the group hurries to finish the meal before you all have to get back to your stations to close out your work cycle.

---

Sev can’t believe his ears. He’s sitting in the mess staring at the empty table where you and your friends were just sitting. He’s off duty and wearing only his black body glove, which is why you don’t notice him sitting alone when your group takes the table next to his. But he notices you. How could he not? He’d spotted you the very first day he and the Deltas came aboard.

He isn’t completely sheltered. He’s met nat-born GAR personnel before, including a few female officers. And he has made the rounds at 79’s during Delta squad’s all-too-rare shore leaves. But something about you grabs his attention. He first notices your laugh. You laugh a lot, and you do it with your whole body. Your eyes light up, your mouth opens in a delighted smile, your head tilts back, your shoulders shake, your tits bounce. One time, he saw you laugh so hard you had to lean against a wall for support when your knees gave out. It makes him want to be the one who makes you laugh.

His keen sniper’s eyes have also spotted you stealing glances at him and the rest of his squad when you pass in the hallways of the Venator. He’s seen you chatting amiably with other clones, and he wonders why you never try to talk to the Deltas. Maybe she’s intimidated, he thinks. He doesn’t blame you.

When he overhears you talking to your friends, he doesn’t think much about it. He just enjoys getting a little glimpse into your life. And then he hears it: “... turned on listening to someone yelling, ‘Trando scum.’ If it weren’t a massive security breach, I’d try to smuggle some of his feeds into my bunk for a little private viewing session.”

Sev nearly chokes on his nutrient paste, and for once, it’s not because of the flavor.

It’s me, he realizes. She’s talking about me.

All this time he’s been watching you, and now he knows you’ve been thinking about him. Getting off to his voice. Imagining him during your “private viewing sessions.” The thought of it has him semi-erect in the middle of the mess hall, with no armor to disguise his state. He spends a long time eating his nutrient paste.

---

The next time the Delta feeds update, you notice that Sev’s is a little longer than the other three. As usual, you save his feed for the last of your day. You take a quick look around to make sure nobody is watching, which is ridiculous, because this is literally your job. But you can’t help feeling a wicked little thrill as you queue up his feed, as though you are about to do something forbidden. You settle the headphones over your head and turn up the volume as you press play.

The holofeed isn’t what you expect. Instead of a battlefield or the inside of a gunship, you see a barracks filled with empty bunks. It looks spare and sterile. The bunks don’t even have pillows; just thin blankets and rough sheets. Your own quarters are austere, but at least you have the luxury of a door and a small refresher. You’ve never seen the inside of the clone barracks before, and you feel as though you are intruding on something private. You reach to scrub forward through the feed, but you halt when Sev’s voice crackles in your headphones.

“I heard a sexy little analyst say she likes my voice,” he says. “I have a present for her ‘private viewing sessions.’ If she comms me the code to her quarters, I’ll know she wants it.”

Oh, stars. He heard. He knows. And he knows who you are. If ever there were a time for the Guarlara to have a small hull breach and launch you into space, now would be the ideal moment! Your heart beats so hard you are sure everyone around you can hear it. You steal a glance out of the corner of your eye, but none of your fellow analysts have noticed anything out of the ordinary.

You send him a quick message. “RC-1207, this is the tactical analysis center. Your helmet feed flashed an error code during your most recent upload. The code is one-one-three-eight-four-echo-bravo. Please run a diagnostic and purge your helmet’s memory bank to prevent corrupted feeds.”

The reply comes almost instantly. “Copy that, tactical. Thanks for the code. That’ll help me track down what I’m looking for.”

You take a deep, shuddering breath, and turn your attention back to the feed. It cuts to the hallway of the Venator as Delta squad heads out for a mission, and the comm feed is just more of their usual banter, followed by their day’s activities in the battlefield.

You scrub back to the beginning of the feed and listen to it one more time before you trim the recording and upload it to the GAR server. You often have to cut out sections of feeds, so the missing section won’t raise any eyebrows, but Sev could get in huge trouble if anyone higher up the command chain saw the original recording.

With shaky hands, you tidy up your workstation as you do at the end of every work cycle. You straighten your uniform, joke with your friends, and head out of the analysis center. You meet up with a few clones in the corridor, and you make your way as a group to the mess hall, where you complain about the bland rations and make plans for your next shore leave. When you’re confident that you haven’t aroused suspicion, you stretch and tell your friends that you’re going to turn in early.

You barely restrain yourself from running through the halls to your quarters. You key in your door code with fumbling hands, and once inside, you spot it immediately: a datachip lying innocently on your pillow. You plug it into your personal player. There’s no holo, but Sev’s voice rumbles through your headphones.

“Get comfortable, beautiful. I want this to be good for you.”

You gasp. You pause the recording and strip out of your uniform in record time, flinging it across your cramped quarters to lie rumpled on the floor. Crawling into bed, you slide naked under your blanket and pull the headphones back over your ears.

“That’s my good girl. Are you naked? Kriff, I hope so. You look hot as hell in your uniform. You must be the prettiest karking thing in the galaxy out of it. All that soft, smooth skin. I want you to feel yourself for me, little one. Run your fingers through your hair. Is it as soft as it looks? Does it smell as good as I imagine?”

Oh, sweet gods, he’s been imagining you, too. You wonder if he has been picturing you when he touched himself. Arousal licks up your spine, tinged with a tiny bit of disappointment that you hadn’t made a move sooner. You push the thought aside, determined to enjoy this moment.

“Now I want you to touch your skin. Slide your hands up and down your body, your arms, your thighs. Cup your tits. Give your nipples a little squeeze. Do you like that?”

You nod, biting your lip and breathing hard. You imagine Sev’s hands, rough and strong and big, and your hand drifts down your belly.

“Don’t touch your cunt, sweetheart. Not yet. I don’t want you to rush this.”

Force, it’s like he’s there with you, watching you, instead of away on some Maker-forsaken planet blasting droids. You obey his pre-recorded commands, wanting to get the full experience.

“Brush your fingers over your neck. Do it gently, like you can feel me whispering in your ear instead of a recording. Touch your mouth, baby. Gods, I wish it was me. Would you lick my fingers? I wonder what you taste like. I bet you taste amazing. Sweet, soft lips, wet little tongue. Fierfek, you make me so hard I could nut right fucking now. How kriffed up is it that I’m jealous of your hands?”

Your breath stutters as you hear another sound in the recording: the rhythmic slide of skin against skin. Oh stars, he is getting off on this, too. Or he already got off. Whatever. You roll your hips instinctively, looking for stimulation.

“Damn it, Sev, let me touch myself,” you whisper.

But you don’t. Not yet. You wait for his permission. Instead, you writhe in the bed, sliding your hands all over your body, pinning your hips to the mattress, touching yourself everywhere except the place you so desperately need.

“If I were with you, I’d take my time. Explore your whole body inch by inch. I would kiss you, and taste you, and suck on your tits until you beg for more. I’d bite your sexy ass and then kiss it better. I’d eat that pretty little pussy until you scream for me. Oh, fuck—” He panted for a moment. “Sorry, honey, I needed a minute to cool down or I was gonna blow early. I don’t want you to think I’m not up to the mission. Because right now, you are my mission. And you know that the mission always comes first.”

You can’t help it: you giggle. It’s endearingly cheesy, but you suspect it’s also true. Once Sev has you to himself—because you have no doubt that he will, and soon—he is going to give you the ride of your life.

“Have you been a good girl for me? Did you touch your pussy before I said you could?”

You shake your head. “Please, please, Sev, I need it.”

“I think you have been a good girl, and now you deserve your reward. I want you to touch your cunt, angel. Just brush your fingertips over it, nice and easy. Are you wet? Kark, I hope so, otherwise I’m doing this wrong. Slip your fingers inside, just a little. Get them nice and slick. Now I want you to play with your clit. Do what you like best, baby. Go hard, or go soft. Rub it in circles, or give it a little tap, or press on it nice and slow. I can’t wait to find out what makes you scream. Do you like it when I suck on your clit? Or maybe you like it a little rougher. Do you want me to slap you, pretty thing? Slap that beautiful little pussy and then lick it better? Or would you rather I go slow and gentle, just barely touching you, taking hours to build you up before I ruin you?”

You moan as you work yourself frantically. You are close, so close, and his voice is doing unholy things to you. You can hear him fucking his fist again, and it turns you on even more to know he is into this just as much as you are.

Sev’s breath grows ragged. “It’s gonna be so good when I fuck you. I know your cunt feels amazing. So tight and wet and warm—fuck—gonna be incredible. I can’t wait, I can’t kriffing wait—gods baby, gonna make me come—FUCK!”

He grunts, and it is loud. You can hear the wet spatter of his orgasm, and the sound of it pushes you over the edge. You feel the entire universe contract into your body, so tight, so hot, and then Fuck! The tension snaps, and you cry out as your body jerks and spasms. You gasp for air, twitching away from your own fingers as your hypersensitive body shudders. Your body is drained, your head is empty, every drop of energy in your being is utterly spent. Your eyes close, and you slip into oblivion.

---

Chapter 2

Tagging: @blueink-bluesoul

This compilation of lines from the Republic Commando game will never not be funny to me: https://youtu.be/WHXy-_mztg0

#sev could crush me like a droideka #and i would say thank you sir #dystopicjumpsuit writes #sev #rc 1207 #republic commando #repcomm fanfic #repcomm #clone simp #clone thirst #tcw fanfic #star wars tcw #sw tcw fanfic #sw fanfic

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steamberrystudio · 2 months

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25/02/2024

Hallo! Time for the bi-weekly tumblr update! It's been a little chaotic...

(which, I have to say that at some point I think I'm going to have to acknowledge that my life is just in a permanent chaos state or something because I say "it's been chaotic" every time, but it's always true!)

I've been editing and editing and editing...and also coding stuffs!

Updates:

Writing is up first as always. I have been editing like crazy. I've decided to through the game chapter by chapter instead of route by route. This is going to make it a bit easier for me to keep thing straight from a continuity perspective.

I am currently working on Chapter 5 - which is probably going to be the case for a while because it's a really long chapter (like...65,000 words).

Art-wise, I have been off and on working on Kav's introductory CG. It's not a high priority thing since it's not needed yet but I'd still like to get it done. I just have to render out the background and then it'll be ready.

In other art news, I continue to get BGs and BG sketches.

And for other stuff...

Feniks has been continuing to work on and refine the flowchart code. Of course, a lot of what they're doing in that regard entails "below the fold" stuff that won't mean much to the player but that I'm personally excited about. Ha ha.

Another big one is that I've reworked the choice menus to maybe make choice selection a little more intuitive for players without adding any overt choice labels. This is going to require me to go through and update all the existing menus in the game but it's a relatively small update in terms of code.

Gilded Shadows stuff...

Finished proofreading and editing the lore book but I haven't had time to wrap everything up with that just yet.

Once I finish getting these out to backers and patrons, those will be up on Itch.io for purchase.

Screenshots:

In the upcoming weeks, I intend to.........

Continue in Editing Purgatory. It will be this way for a while. I'm hoping to get finished with chapter 5 by my next update here.

I always work on other things too but it's kind of hard to list those because there's a lot that needs to be done in general.

So yeah, that's it.

Remember if you want more detailed and weekly updates, you can support on Patreon, where I update every week!

#gilded shadows #whenstarscollide #indie otome game #amare game #updates

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pascaloverx · 5 months

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Rewrite The Stars

Summary: One photo changes your whole life, when you accidentally bump into a celebrity and the world starts to believe that you are a couple.

AO3 LINK next chapter

PREVIEW

Work to achieve your dreams, they say. But what they don't tell you is that even if you work hard, some dreams won't come true. But for tonight, you will believe that your dreams will come true.

"Table six has been ordering the dish for half an hour. You know how these rich people are. If you don't want to lose your job, learn to walk faster." Your supervisor speaks almost shouting at you. It even seems like you're the only one who is a waitress in this restaurant. Five stars, my ass. Obviously at the moment, you can't respond back saying that the service is terrible because half the staff is busy waiting for the big celebrity who is coming to dinner here tonight.

"Yes, chef. I'll walk faster." You rush back with the last two orders you were in charge of taking. You were supposed to be dismissed almost two hours ago but we can't leave until the big star of the night comes. Pedro Pascal.

The man of the moment. Probably the face you've seen the most all year. They're coming to dinner at the restaurant where you work that night, they made a reservation for four. Everyone is speculating that he will bring some romantic interest.

Your manager has simply spent the last three hours warning you that any mistakes today will be resolved with a dismissal. You just can't imagine a worse time.

You almost trip when you're finishing serving the couple who ordered duck in white sauce. The restaurant is in chaos and thanks to that, your manager didn't fire you. You then decide to go outside to get some air, which might help you stay on your feet for the next few hours.

You're breathing chaotically, without any rhythm. You want to escape from this almost claustrophobic restaurant. In your haste, you don't see anything in front of you. You just feel that you bumped into another person's body. Your body was almost thrown to the ground with the impact. And when you looked up, you saw him.

"Mr. Pascal, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you." You say it as soon as you realize what you did. An interesting fact is that Mr. Pascal held you tight with his arms so that you don't fall to the ground. If anyone saw from a distance they would think you were hugging each other. You immediately walk away, thinking that if your boss sees this, you're fucked up.

"Are you well? Your forehead is bleeding." He asks, touching his forehead lightly as if he were more worried about that than hiding. I bet he came through the back to avoid commotion.

"That was nothing, Mr. Pascal. You can follow me and I'll take you to your table calmly." You say, ignoring the burning in your head. What's a hurt next to losing this opportunity.

"Are you sure?" Pedro Pascal himself talks to you almost as if you were an alien because you don't allow your pain to show.

"Yes, sir. You don't need to worry about that, worse things have happened to me." You try to improve your expression so that Mr. Pascal can finally enter the restaurant. That's when you notice that you are being watched, by noises from what you imagine are paparazzi. You then take an unprofessional action. You push Mr. Pascal into the restaurant using his body as a shield so that the paparazzi cannot identify him.

"Is this how you treat your customers?" Pascal speaks as you lock the back door. Embarrassed, you turn to face Mr. Pascal after pushing him.

"Mr. Pascal, I'm terribly sorry. But I suspect there are photographers out there. I'm really sorry for the inconvenience." You say almost as if asking for mercy.

"Alright, miss. If you'll take me to my table, I promise to forget about this pushing." Mr. Pascal speaks as he watches you. You feel awkward, but you nod your head positively and lead him to his table.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #unrequited love #fan meets celebrity #Spotify

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iicheeze · 1 year

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3 MONTHS, 3 DAYS, AND 33 MINUTES

3 MONTHS, 3 DAYS, AND 33 MINUTES MASTERLIST

SUMMARY || you've always had feelings for your gray haired senior. To the point that you'd confess to the man in front of the whole Akademiya. Pitying you, he gives you 3 months, 3 days and 33 minutes to make him fall for you. Let the roller coaster of chaos begin!

PAIRINGS || Alhaitham x Gender Neutral Reader, slight Kaveh x reader

TAGLIST || @star-star-fall-inlove @nachotrash @baelloraa @itonashi @tanspostsblog @kalpie @makimakimi @nishayuro @hugs4dottore @sassy-cat-in-town @aloveablechaos @ceylestia @severedvigility @i9tto @6-022-10-23 @duhsies @suwnshine @xiaos-wife1 @kysrion @kunikuzushisbeloved (BOLD MEANS I CAN'T TAG YOU, TAGLIST OPEN!!)

TW || gendered terms like girl or buddy, READER IS GENDER NEUTRAL!!!!!! other than that idk unfunny-ness ig idk 😭 just read to find out

CHAPTER II — [Name], The Reckoning

“ HAHAH!!! HAHAHAHAHA!! ”

The haunting laughter echoed throughout the hallway of Teyvat Akademiya Dorms. Obviously, coming from none other than you, yourself.

“ SHUT THE HELL UP, DAMMIT!! I'M TRYING TO FINISH MY FUCKING ASSIGNMENT, YOU DAMN LUMMOX. ” Tighnari screamed, his head peeking out of his dorm room. “ Sorry, man. ” And with that, the door slammed shut.

“ Give me my five dollars, Mona. ” You demanded, with Mona slowly reaching out to her almost empty wallet.

Long ago, you and Mona made a bet. If Alhaitham accepts your confession, Mona will give you ten dollars. But if he rejects you, you give her ten dollars.

But since this one is a special case, Mona will only give you five dollars.

“ Congratulations for getting accepted! Now.. What next? ” Bennett gave you a pat on the shoulder, while also giving you a question. Silence filled the air with awkward tension.

“ To be honest, I didn't plan this far. ” “ GIRL, HOW DID YOU EVEN GRADUATE HIGH SCHOOL???!?! ” “ I don't know too. ” “ Lord, save us. ”

“ OKAY, OKAY!!! I'll search up on how to woo a stubborn guy. After that, I'll list it off. Then, I'll physically do it to him and bada bing bada boom, we're a couple. ” You winked, as your friends dead pan.

“ I'll wish you the best, [Name]. You'll need it. ” Kokomi smiled innocently at you, as the rest nods along with her statement. “ THANKS??? BUT WHY ARE YOU SAYING IT WITH THAT TONE?? ”

It was the weekend, so you decided to use your time lazing around searching up on how to woo a man with a personality like Alhaitham's. Sadly, they all sound very hard.

Like... What do you mean ‘ Make sure they have all the facts. ’ ?????

The only stuff you wrote down are;

Let him come to you. Obviously not gonna work 💔

Open up to him.

Be his friend.

Stay flirty.

Focus on your common interests. What interests 😭

Make him laugh.

Be silly in front of him.

Go on adventures together. Wtf we aint dora and boots hell no

IF ALL FAILS, THEN GIVE UP GIRL!!! HE AIN'T WORTH YOUR TIME!!!

You wrote the sentence in bold with massive letters at the end of the list. Who knows, maybe this chance is just pure luck or he just wants to toy around with you.

BUT!

You still have a chance, albeit small, it's still a chance!

And you're obviously taking it.

I mean, what the hell. He has a hot body.

“ I wonder if he's a virgin. ”

Kaveh was just taking his break at the local Sunbucks near Teyvat Akademiya, trying to get away from the annoying roommate of his.

But his moment of peace was disrupted by a single ding from his phone.

Message Notification from [Name]

What the hell are they up to now

He clicked the notification bar, and it quickly showed up to his chat history with the person.

[Name]

PLSE HELP ME IM STUCK 😭

You

wtf wdym stuck

[Name] is typing. . .

[Name]

so i confessed to ur roommate ye

and he actually gave me a chance

except theres a time limit for it and if i dont make him fall for me within 3 months 3 days and 33 minutes i cant talk to him or even acknowledge he existed in this timeline 😭

Kaveh couldn't help but think.

How the hell did you even got him to give you a chance what kind of fuckery did you use [Name]

You

and wat do you want me to do abt it im not him tf 🤨

[Name] is typing. . .

[Name]

d-d-d-d

do u know anything abt him

if u do

can u

pls tell me 🥺

You

WTF stop talking like that you sound like an e-kitten 🤢🤮

[Name]

STOP HWAT NOOO 😭

You

idk abt that gray haired bitch hes friendless and a virgin wtf u want me to do

[Name]

AYO WHAT HE A VIRGIN??????

boutta peg him fr fr 😈

You

💀

plus all i know is that he aint prioritize no one but himself

he doesn't deserve u 😒

[Name]

but I deserve him 😍

does he like uhhh

my jokes

You

dont u dare

we all know ur humor is as bad as cyno's

[Name]

but

i have rizz 🔥

You

the only thing ur gonna get is a rizzstraining order from him wtf

no one likes ur jokes [name]

just accept the truth

[Name]

😭

this is why u get no bitches

“ Jesus Christ, [Name]. . . ” The blonde man mumbled to himself, face palming. He was about to leave the cafe, before he saw another text.

[Name]

i seriously want him to like me tho

It was just a simple text, and he knows of your crush for his roommate for quite a while.

So why did it strung his heartstrings?

AUTHOR'S NOTE || SORRY ITS SHORT AGAIN THE NEXT ONE WILL PROBABLY BE LONGER 😭😭 if there's any mistakes be it readers gender or more please tell me 🙏🙇

also taglist is still open feel free to ask to be in it 😍

#3 months 3 days and 33 minutes series #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x gender neutral reader #genshin impact x male reader #genshin impact x female reader #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin x male reader #genshin x female reader #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin alhaitham x reader #genshin alhaitham #alhaitham x reader #genshin kaveh x reader #kaveh x reader #genshin kaveh

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shu-box-puns · 1 year

Text

You wanna be one of them (Tsu’tey x Reader) Act 3

Previous chapter <- Act 3 -> Next Chapter

If you prefer to read on Ao3, you can find the fic here!

Word count: 7677

Summary: Tsu’tey dropping hints, and everything going over Reader’s head.

Reader uses they/them pronouns.

The long helicopter ride back to Hell’s Gate was painfully awkward.

Quaritch had been quick and efficient in getting everyone evacuated out of the compound and moved to the waiting Sampson.

You refused to speak when addressed. Seething that you’d been pulled out at such a crucial time, and before dinner of all things. The hunters had brought in fresh yerik this morning, which you’d been greatly looking forward to until Neytiri and Jake rocked up freshly mated and turned everything to shit.

At least Trudy had been spared. Upon landing, Quaritch had sent her on her way with little more than a slap on the wrist and a promise of getting her grounded if she stepped out of line. She went easily enough, looking hesitant until Grace shot her a firm look.

That was half an hour ago. Now you were in headquarters, lined up with the other three whilst Quaritch and Selfridge attempted to negotiate the chaos. The colonel had wisely left you cuffed, even after removing everyone else’s. He’d taken one look at the burning fury in your eye and decided he’d be safer if he left you restrained.

You stood stony faced as Grace attempted to negotiate with Quaritch and Selfridge who clearly were not understanding a word of what she was saying. You could already tell from Selfridge’s expression and the firm set of Quaritch’s crossed arms that they’d already made up their minds.

You busied yourself with looking around the room while they talked. The other workers in the large office blatantly ignored the conversation whilst Wainfleet guarded the door.

There was a na’vi bow mounted on the wall in Selfridge’s office. It hung above his head like a bad omen. You recognised the finely carved wood from HomeTree. Took into account the decorative swirls at the tips. Whoever had calved it was definitely dead. Their hard work reduced to a trophy in a dusty office.

Grace finished her small monologue and Selfridge laughed. Any lingering hope that this could be resolved without bloodshed abruptly evaporated.

Quaritch spoke up, ushering the small group to gather around a nearby monitor. The guards followed suit, intrigued by Jake’s exhausted face popping up on screen in the form of a video log. Even Wainfleet was drawn away from his position so he could look at the monitor.

You didn’t bother drawing closer. A glance at the date confirmed that you’d been present during that late night rant, tucked out of frame but staring bug eyed at the tired marine as he ranted.

Taking the distraction for what it was, you glanced at the open door and saw your chance.

Knowing the sound of your boots would draw attention, you slipped out of them. One careful footstep after another. The guards hadn’t given you time to lace them up back at the compound, so they came off easily. Then you simply walked out, head held high and your strides confident. No one called you back.

Your footsteps made no sound against the freezing metal floors as you calmly walked out of the main office and took the stairs two at a time down three flights. If you encountered someone in the hallway, you offered a friendly smile and they mostly waved back. It was easy. Unnervingly easy.

By chance, you encountered Trudy outside of the main avatar link room. Her eyes bugged out of her head when she noticed you, head snapping from your triumphant grin to your still cuffed wrists.

She shifted her stance, hands on her hips with an easy grin. “I didn’t know you were so slippery.”

“It was all the training.” You assured her, to which she nodded, looking you up and down with newfound respect.

“Glad to see you’re okay. Are the others?”

“Still trying to talk Quaritch out of hitting HomeTree.”

“So, they just let you go?” Trudy pressed, still looking confused by the cuffs and your lack of shoes.

“About that. Got any good hiding spots around here.”

She rolled her eyes with a taxing sigh before nodding, face splitting into a mischievous grin. You abruptly recalled why the two of you had always gotten on so well. With your crazy ideas and her willingness to follow along despite the dangers, you made a formidable team. You’d only wished you’d spent more time here to remind yourself of that.

Trudy took great pride in comically looking left, then looking right before grabbing your forearm and hauling you down the nearest corridor towards the hangar.

“I like your attitude Dr.”

>_<

<”Tsu’tey.”> Mo’at voice was kind, her hand grounding on his shoulder, but the warrior barely spared her a glance.

His heart was pounding, hands shaking as he cradled the face of his limp friend. Y/n did not stir at the feeling of hands on their face. They looked dead. He almost believed they were, but there was breath against his skin. The steady rise and fall of their chest. A strong pulse beneath his fingertips.

<”We must move them to the healing cove.”> Mo’at continued, soothing in her tone. Numbly, Tsu’tey nodded, but he did not move away. Not at first. <”I will do everything I can.”> The Tsahik assured him, whistling for a couple of her apprentices to rush forward and scoop up the still body.

With that, Y/n’s body was whisked away, following Jake and Grace’s that had already been taken to the medical chamber to be tended to and prayed over.

Tsu’tey did not follow. His limbs were heavy. Mind still jared from the sight of the life leaving Y/n’s face. He’d never witnessed such a sudden unlinking. It was unnatural. It had almost looked painful, his arm still stinging from the indents of their nails raking down his skin as their knees gave out.

At his side, Neytiri was in a similar state. Her expression hollow, eyes unseeing as if a piece of her had followed Jake to wherever he had gone.

Tsu’tey stilled. The compound. Y/n had said something about the compound.

A half-baked plan formed in the back of his mind as he grabbed Neytiri’s wrist. <”Come.”> He urged, taking off at a sprint for the spiral staircase. Dazed, Neytiri obediently followed, keeping pace with Tsu’tey as the pair ascended through the levels of HomeTree and emerged into the roost.

<”What are we doing up here?”> Neytiri asked, her voice lacking any real emotion.

<”You wish to save Jake, do you not?”> Tsu’tey asked, already knowing the answer. The woman visibly collected herself, expression reanimating as Tsu’tey whistled for his ikran. <”There is a base within the mountains.”>

<”Then we must hurry.”> Neytiri agreed, hollering for Seze who was quick to break through the canopy.

As soon as his mount touched down, Tsu’tey connected his kuru. His ikran immediately responded to the adrenaline coursing through his blood and was swift in manoeuvring himself to the lip of the branch. Seze followed suit, shadowing the larger ikran as Tsu’tey urged him into flight. With twin whoops, the pair launched themselves from the branches of HomeTree and sped towards the direction of the mountains.

They made good time. The compound coming into view as a shining speck on the horizon. The metal ikran that had been nesting in front of the shack the last time Tsu’tey had visited was gone, leaving a clear landing strip for the ikran.

Touching down, Tsu’tey threw himself down from his mount, running a hand soothingly along his neck before disconnecting his kuru. He was careful in approaching the eerily still building. Ears pricked for unexpected Sky People or for familiar movement inside.

Elegantly, Neytiri slid down from Seze. <”This place is too still.”>

He could only nod, stooping before the small metal door and knocking. His fist left an indent in the weak metal, but he was too stressed to care. Nothing moved within the building. The scent of many Sky People plagued the wind of the mountain, their smells poisoning the door and the grass all around. If he focused, Tsu’tey could tell that they were stale. Hours old.

His expression morphed into a scowl. Neytiri appeared at his side, peering into one of the windows, whilst Tsu’tey dropped into a crouch and gingerly reached the door handle. His large fingers mimicked how Grace had opened it before, the weak metal barrier opening easily under his touch. It had not been locked.

<”Check the surroundings.”> Tsu’tey ordered his companion, only waiting long enough for her to nod before he tucked himself in small and shuffled into the airlock. With the door closed behind him, he listened to the wheeze of pandora air being sucked out of the tight space before the light overhead flashed green and the second door unlocked.

The scents here were more intense. Hinting towards a lived in space. There was food on the table, a tap still running against the far wall, the sink almost overflowing with dirty dishes.

Discarding all that useless information, Tsu’tey moved further into the space, his tall body contorted to fit. The deeper he ventured, the more signs of struggle he found. Furniture had been overturned and doors left open, a couple barely hanging on by their hinges. Scattered papers carpeted the floor underfoot, books opened wide, their pages disfigured.

It distantly reminded Tsu’tey of the school. How it had looked after the Sky People had ransacked it. The scents were the same, the fear and rage poisoning the air.

The only comfort was that there was no blood. Bullet wounds did not scar the walls of the tight space, nor did smoke poison the air.

But that did not set his heart at ease. There was no one here.

He had been too late.

He felt the loss like a blow to the chest, his teeth grinding as he desperately rechecked the small space. Looking in cupboards and under the table in search of hiding places or survivors. He came up empty handed each time.

With nowhere else to look, he emerged back out into the sunlight to find Neytiri pacing beside Seze. She caught his gaze across the clearing, all movements stills as she looked at him with such heart shattering hope. He shook his head. She crumbled before his eyes.

<”They took him.”> Neytiri whispered, voice on the verge of breaking. Tsu’tey was quick to go to her, to drag her into his chest and hold her firmly as her shoulders shook. <”They took my mate!”> She yelled, pain twisting her words as she clawed at him. Desperately seeking comfort.

Tsu’tey held her through it, shoving down his own grief in the face of her panic. He needed to be strong for her. A rock. Just as he had always been.

<”Come. We must return to the clan.”> He said, giving her something to do in hopes it would help her recollect herself. <”There is nothing more we can do here.”>

>_<

HomeTree was burning.

And you could do nothing but listen to the victory announcement over the comms echoing throughout the deserted hangar.

Tears streamed down your face as you bit into your fist in a feeble attempt to quieten your sobs. Tears dripped onto the floor of the footwell of Trudy’s helicopter; heart aching for those lost and those left behind. There was no way of knowing who had survived, and who had already died. How many? How many of your friends had been crushed by the falling tree? And how many had passed afterwards in the aftermath?

You should’ve known. Should have spent more time around Hell’s Gate. Should have figured out Quaritch’s plan and foiled it. Instead of frolicing in the forest, greedily spending as much time with Tsu’tey as your days would allow. You should have-

You cut off your train of thought.

You had to get back. Somehow, you needed to relink and warn the People. You needed to be useful by either providing another pair of hands or bringing back valuable information.

Trudy had to come back soon, it had been two hours since she’d shoved you in here and locked you inside with a swift promise to return with the others. You’d managed to snap the link of the handcuffs ages ago.

You were pulled from your internal spiral by people climbing up onto the side of the helicopter and reaching for the engine covers. You tensed, making yourself smaller in the cockpit as the doors at the rear of the helicopter opened and someone boarded.

“I got them.” Trudy called by way of greeting as she fell into the pilot’s seat and began flipping buttons and pulling levers. She was grinning from ear to ear as she thrust an exo pack into your lap, which you busied yourself with putting it on. “You doing okay?”

“They got HomeTree.” You replied brokenly. Trudy winced.

“I know. But we’re gonna get you back in there.” She replied stubbornly, “we’re gonna steal the mountain compound and drop it somewhere near the Tree of Souls. That’s where the clan has gone.” You nodded along to her hurried explanation, eyes catching on Grace and Jake tearing across the tarmac towards the helicopter.

In the rear, Norm was yelling at them to hurry up as a door on the second level banged open. You inhaled sharply as an armed figure stormed across the upper landing, shoulders hunched as they typically did when carrying a rifle.

Norm was hauling Jake up into the helicopter, dragging him in as Grace threw his chair in.

The figure opened fire. Bullets bounced off of the windshield as Trudy kicked the engine into gear, screaming at the others to hurry the fuck up.

Grace lifted herself into the rear, and Trudy gripped the cyclic stick.

With the rapid pump of pedals, the overhead propellers roared to life and the machine took flight. Bullets chased the aircraft out of the hangar as Trudy aimed for the open doors.

Then you were free. Soaring over the tarmac before Trudy pulled up hard and the helicopter went racing towards the stars. You whooped as Hell’s Gate disappeared far below, nothing but its lights marking its position on the ground below.

“You all alright back there?” Trudy called, as the joyous whoops in the back died down.

“Grace got hit!” Jake yelled from the rear, and your previous joy evaporated.

>_<

You tried to make Grace comfortable in the spare link unit. After tightly wrapping her stomach, Jake had tossed a blanket over her shivering form before wheeling away to Norm’s active pod in search of a shot of tranexamic acid. Propping her head up on a pillow, you tried not to let your eyes stray to the strip of red peeking out from beneath the blanket, instead choosing to adjust the material so it was out of sight.

High above, you heard the heavy footfalls of Norm walking along the roof, securing the supports which would lift the compound from the floor. Above the distant hum of the samson engine, you could hear Norm yelling to Trudy that the lines were secured. There was no audible reply, but you could tell from the groan of cables and the slight lurch that the compound had been lifted clear.

“Are you going to keep scowling all evening?” Jake asked from across the room with no humour. Your expression hardened as you made a conscious effort not to give him the satisfaction of getting a response. Instead you refocused your attention on Grace, your touch soothing as you pushed her sweaty hair away from her damp forehead, your stomach twisting at her ashy complexion and the laboured puffs of her breath.

You begrudgingly moved aside as the marine wheeled up to the lip of the unit, leaning over Grace to inject the tranexamic acid into her bloodstream. With luck, it would offer a larger window of time in which you could get her help.

Grace barely flinched at the sharp pain, her eyes slipping open but unseeing. You remained close, clutching her hand tightly between your own. It was limp and cold in your grip.

She didn’t snap at you to let go. That she was fine and that you were overreacting. And it made your heart crumble like it was a piece of paper that someone had clutched harshly in their fist.

Jake momentarily forgotten, you felt your knees go weak as you lowered yourself into a kneel beside the unit, head bowed to hide your face. This couldn’t be happening.

At your side, Jake sighed taxingly. He sounded exhausted. Drained. “Look, I know you’re pissed-”

You hissed at him, hating the sound of his voice in such a delicate situation. Grace was dying and he was still talking about himself, still trying to defend himself. Deep in your chest, amongst the festering wounds of grief and fear, a white hot slice of anger made itself known.

You didn’t let go of Grace’s hand. Couldn’t bring yourself to sever this precious connection, despite the rage in your tone.

“Will you just shut up!” You snapped back bitterly. Grace’s fingers twitched against you, a weak squeeze. It helped ground you, to reign in your anger somewhat.

Beside you, Jake didn’t look like he was breathing. He was frozen in time. Eyes carefully tracking your every movement as if you were a thanator and he was back in his avatar body trying to decide the best way to survive.

Distantly, you wished you hadn’t jumped in on that day. That you had allowed Eywa’s creature to tear this man to shreds as the Great Mother had intended. At the time, you would have felt guilty, but perhaps, if Jake had not had access to his avatar, none of this would have happened.

A thought struck you, as jarring and shocking as a frying pan over the back of the head. “It was YOU that gave Quaritch that information, wasn’t it?” Jake’s mouth closed with an audible click, eyes bugging wide. Your stomach clenched as you realised that that reaction told you everything you needed to know. Silently, you thanked Eywa that you didn’t have your hunting knife on you and that your gun was well out of reach. Grace’s poor heart would not be able to survive the sound of you murdering this stupid man just feet from her wounded body.

The marine held your gaze, even as he refused to speak up. It made you want to smack him. “I know it was.” You continued on, voice venomous with every word. Grace’s hand had gone completely limp in your own, the pain having finally knocked her out. With great effort, you pulled yourself away from her grasp, filtered air sawing in and out of your lungs with each desperate inhale.

You heard Jake swallow audibly as you hauled yourself to your feet, glaring down at him. “How else would Quaritch know how to hit HomeTree? To go for the supporting outer structures? That the helix staircase acted as a skeleton for the entire thing?” The image of HomeTree burning flashed across your mind. That ancient, ancestral monument brought to its knees, toppled like a fence in a strong wind.

“It was me.” Jake admitted, in a way that foretold a ‘but’ was on the horizon. “But that was before, when it was only about the mission.”

You laughed, the sound strained and painful. “You did this.”

It felt like you were cursing him. An underlying threat despite the simplicity of the phrase. Jerkily, you skirted around him, hands clutching the bolted shelves as the compound swayed and lurched as it got batted around by the wind.

Jake struggled to find the right words to defend himself. He spoke in a rush, as if terrified you’d cut him off before he could fully explain himself. Still defending his image. Still trying to play the hero. “I did. But I’m gonna do everything in my power to make it right-” Another barked laugh left your tightening throat. You had reached your end of the room now where your belongings sat. Buried deep in the bottom of your satchel sat a RDA issued handgun. “What power Jake? There is nothing we can fucking do.”

“This isn’t over.” He said it so simply. Like that was all there was to it. Just emotion, and a drive to stick together.

“Jake.” You turned in place, fighting every instinct and burning desire to whip out your weapon and finally get him to shut up. “Wake up already.”

Jake’s passive expression finally turned hostile, his brow furrowing into a scowl as the words hit home. You’d heard it spoken countless times over the past few months in regard to his extensive time spent in the link. Had heard it yourself during your early weeks on Pandora before you’d groan a backbone and forced everyone to back off.

His tone was furious as he finally raised his voice. “Will you stop being negative for two seconds?!”

The shout had your own rage rearing its head in challenge. It was refreshing to have him fighting back instead of pleading for forgiveness. It would demonstrate his true colours as lips always grew loose during times of high emotion.

“Will you use your head for two seconds? You know, the one up here instead of your fucking dick.” You retorted, tapping your temple twice. Jake levelled you with an acidic glare. You turned the fowl look in kind. “HomeTree is gone. They know you knew what Quaritch was planning. There is no way they’re gonna let us back in.” You yelled out a rush. Before adding, “you’ve fucked this up for both of us.”

Jake’s expression immediately melted into one of pity.

“No.” He insisted, “no I didn’t.”

He sounded so certain. As if he hadn’t destroyed everything. As if he hadn’t fucked up everything he touched.

You laughed again, the sound pained and twisted. Jake kept talking, kept trying to fill your head with fantasies and hope as if Grace wasn’t dying, and the clan you called home hadn’t abandoned you. “They still have your avatar.” Jake reassured you, “it was upstairs with mine and Grace’s when we relinked-”

“Then it’s definitely destroyed by now.”

“They probably took you with them.”

“Why the hell would they do that?” The words hurt to voice but they were true. “We’re Sky People. They see us as Demons. They wouldn’t risk it.”

“Like that ever stopped Tsu’tey.” Jake reasoned.

“Do NOT speak his name!”

Jake ignored you, sprouting more and more words of encouragement. “I’ve got a plan. We’re gonna get back in there, and we’re gonna help the people.”

“They will never allow us back. Neytiri would kill you on sight.”

He visibly deflated. “She’s never going to look at me the same again.”

“To be betrayed by your mate,” you narrated, “it simply doesn’t happen in their world. Your mate is the one person you can rely on to always have your back, to love and cherish you indefinitely. If anything, she’ll feel obligated to welcome you back because of those deeply ingrained values.”

Jake kept nodding, his eyes shining. You knew at that moment that he was going back with or without you. That he would stop at nothing to give Grace the best chance of survival he could find. And that was something you could respect.

It took considerable strength to shove down your pride, but the bewildered look on his face was worth it. “Make sure you earn it.” You ordered him. “I don’t care what you do, but make sure when you are forgiven, it is because you deserve it.” He nodded along.

“Do you really think Tsu’tey would’ve abandoned you over this?”

“Yes.” You replied honestly. “He’s driven by his duty to the people. If he deems me a threat, he would’ve left my avatar to burn alongside HomeTree. When I link up, I’ll know where I stand.”

“Good to know.”

>_<

As Trudy lowered the compound into the forests deep into the Hallelujah Mountains closer to the Tree of Souls, you relinked. The others had agreed to take care of Grace whilst you checked on the clan, anxious to find out what had happened to your avatar.

You woke to a cloudy sky and the soothing commotion of cooking food and people talking in hushed, tearful whispers. The mood within the clearing was sombre, the voices of those around you sad or sobbing. Overhead, you saw the swaying vines of the Tree of Souls, and felt your throat tighten with emotion as you realised where you were.

With great effort, you managed to haul yourself up into a sitting position, to the gasps of the healers attending to your body. You smiled reassuringly as you realised you’d been laid out on a mat, still armed and your bow within arms reach.

One of the men tending to the other wounded rushed over to check you, his voice too low for you to catch what he was asking you. Rapidly, he checked your pulse and temple, pulled back your eyelids to assess your pupils before listening to your breathing. He relaxed when he found nothing amiss.

You uttered your thanks before asking where the Olo’eyktan and Tsahik were. He motioned to the Tree of Souls where various figures were crouched, conversing on the raised platform of packed earth surrounding the roots.

You bowed in appreciation before taking up your bow and weaving through the crowd towards the tree. The People parted easily for you, many smiling at your appearance and uttering soft thanks to Eywa for your safe return. You grinned back, momentarily soothed by the positive reaction despite how rocky things had ended only hours before.

As you approached, you recognised the red, beaded shawl of the clan Tsahik. <“Mo’at. What happened?”> You asked as you approached. The person she was conversing with bowed as he departed, slipping back into the crowd as she turned to you. Her eyes were red and puffy, hair in disarray as she turned on you with a clack of beads.

<“You’re alive.”> She whispered, soft as a prayer.

<“I escaped.”> You assured her. She nodded before sweeping forward and wrapping you in a tight hug, softly thanking the Great Mother for her guidance. You hugged back, not sure who was comforting who.

She was crying again. <“Mo’at?”>

<“It’s all gone.”> She whispered. <“HomeTree. Eytukan. Most of the tribe.”> Your breath caught.

<“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”> You whispered, although you knew words alone would never heal this wound. No amount of regret would bring those people back. <“I’m sorry.”> Mo’at continued to cry, her sobs quiet as she hid her face in your shoulder. Hiding herself and her vulnerability from the fractured remains of the clan. Your arm wrapped around her back, whilst the other rested against the back of her head, keeping her close to you, allowing her this moment of weakness that she so desperately needed.

In turn, she held on tightly. Her arms wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling her to you with a grip strong enough to bruise.

Throughout your time amongst the clan, you had never seen her like this. So lost and emotional. She’d always been a strong pillar of strength. The level-headed leader in every situation.

You were glad you could give back to her in some small way.

<”Y/n?”>

Your aching heart pounded at the soft utterance of your name. Back straightening, your head whipped round to find Tsu’tey picking his way across the roots of the Tree of Souls. His expression was pinched, his bow clutched tightly in his dominant hand.

Your throat tightened at the ceremonial necklace at his neck, the mark of his elevated status in the clan. The final confirmation that what Mo’at had said was true, her mate was dead and Tsu’tey had risen in the ranks to take his place.

He moved gracefully towards you, shoulder set and his tail raised. You weren’t sure if his scowl was of confusion or rage. Nor did you wish to find out, although it did loosen something in you that he was here, alive and whole.

Throughout the adrenaline rush of escaping, you hadn’t dared contemplate what you would do if he had died whilst you were gone.

And yet, your tail swayed in relief, your eyes drinking in the sight of him. Checking for injuries or pain in his face. As was expected, he was fine.

His footsteps were even but silent, a predator stalking prey. <“You’re alive.”> He breathed, but you couldn’t tell if he perceived that as a good thing after the morning they’d experienced.

With a deep, steadying breath, Mo’at pulled herself away from your neck and straightened. She took a moment to recollect her breathing, visibly pulling herself together as she scrubbed at the teartracks glistening across the apples of her cheeks. <”I am relieved that you are well.”> She praised, her trembling hands rising to your shoulders and squeezing with a mother’s reassurance. <”May Eywa smile upon your return.”>

With that, she turned sharply on her heels and picked her way back across the roots, leaving you alone with the new Olo’eyktan. Absently, you mourned the loss of her comforting touch, realising with a pang that your physical shield had left you vulnerable to Tsu’tey’s reaction.

The man in question had hardly moved throughout the short interaction, his eyes glued to your face. You swallowed again before returning your attention to him. He looked regal in the neckpiece, the textbook image of a leader. Power oozed off of him.

You tried to sound confident as you raised your hand to your forehead and greeted him. <”I see you, Olo’eyktan.”> <”Cut that out.”> Tsu’tey immediately hissed, his neutral expression morphing into a look that spoke of deep rooted fear and anger.

Unexpectedly, he grabbed at you, making your body stiffen. Powerful hands grabbed at your shoulders as his eyes roamed across your body. Fingers prodded at your skin, checking for injuries or pains. You gasped as one colossal fist gripped you by the cheeks, turning your head this way and that. <”Did they hurt you?”>

You floundered for a response. Face ablaze as your mind struggled to keep up with what was happening.

He bared his teeth at your lack of response, ears lying flat. <”Where?”> He continued, brow furrowing at the lack of blood on your skin.

Somehow you composed yourself. <”I’m fine.”> You reassured him, breath stuttering off into a wheeze as he slammed his hand against your chest, pressing down as he felt for your heartbeat. He stilled, fingers pressing into your flesh as he waited. <”I escaped before they could do anything to me.”>

He visibly relaxed, ears rising back up. He began nodding, comforted by your pulse and your response.

And with a quiet prayer to the Great Mother, his hand slid around to your back and pulled you into him. There was no space left between you with how tightly he clung to your body, hands spread wide across your back as if he needed to hold as much of you as he could.

You refused to cry as you returned the gesture. Shoving your face into his neck as his chin rested on the crown of your braids. There was an unmistakable rumble emitting from the centre of his chest, but you didn’t dare draw attention to it, for fear he would try to smother his purr. It comforted you on a level you could not describe, your body losing all its previous tension, mind going pleasantly blank despite the shitty situation that had brought about this reunion.

The din of the clan fell away whilst you embraced him. And for a moment, it was only the two of you. His hands holding you secure. His purr soothing your fears. His scent turning you to mush.

Fuck, it had only been a few hours, but it felt like you’d been gone for years.

Tsu’tey pulled back, his hands finding purchase on your cheeks as he urged you to look at him, genuine fear and sorrow echoing in his eyes as he spoke. <”I went to the compound in the mountains. I came for you, I promise, but you were already gone.”>

<”You came for me?”> You whispered, feeling choked up by the simple and soft spoken admittance. The raw vulnerability in his voice and the sincere way he held you made you want to burst into tears. All the stress of the past few hours felt almost worth it.

Relief was a balm to your nerves as you threw your arms tighter around him, clutching him to you tightly as he buried his face into your braids.<”Of course I did.”> He promised, and you believed him.

You could tell you were gripping tighter than was probably appropriate, but he did not tell you off. He held you firmly. Allowing you to reassure yourself that he was here, and he was alive. Despite everything, he had come back to you in one piece.

It was as if a colossal weight had been lifted from your shoulders by a kind god.

The beat of mighty wings had you freezing.

No ikran could sound that heavy in the air.

Tsu’tey’s head shot up, his arms tightening around your back. The sound of screaming had you tearing yourself out of his hold, spinning in place with your hand flying to your knife.

Toruk landed at the edge of the clearing, scaring half the clan into defensive positions whilst those who could not fight ran for cover. You instinctively backed up, clinging tightly to the beautiful knife your grasp. You knew in your heart that such a measly weapon would do little against such a majestic beast, but it helped ground you.

Tsu’tey stepped up to your side in moments. He did not pull you away or shove you behind him, so you could be protected. He stood beside you. Shoulder to shoulder, despite the fear clearly adorning his face. Fear for his people.

Mo’at appeared at your other elbow, Neytiri in tow.

And then a figure slid down Toruk’s side, disconnecting their queue as they smoothly stepped around its massive head, hands gliding over its eye ridge. The clan collectively held its breath.

<“Toruk Makto?”> Mo’at whispered from beside you. You glanced from the Tsahik to the mysterious rider who was making their way through the parting crowd. You recognised that stiff swagger, the cheap attempt at confidence and the tense set of their shoulders.

“Well I’ll be damned.” You laughed quietly to yourself as Jake approached the Tree of Souls, Neytiri already walking forward to greet him. Then you scoffed. “He’s such a show off.”

That earned you a sharp swat upside the head from a frowning Mo’at.

>_<

When you had relinked, Grace had been merely dying. There was still hope.

But now, several hours later after a failed consciousness transfer, she was gone. You felt numb as the People sung their hymns, laying her to rest within the trees beyond the clearing with the rest of the fallen. Norm took her avatar away shortly after, his cheeks shining with tears. And then it was as if she was never there.

Somehow, that thought was worse than watching her die.

You slipped away from the clan, your footsteps clumsy as you tried to navigate your way through the trees with blurry vision. Grief was an arrow to the heart, twisting itself deeper with every choked off memory of Grace’s body. Of how happy she’d been to see the Tree of Souls despite her worsening condition. Of the pure wonder in her shaking voice as she grasped Jake’s hand, whispering a soft, “I’m with her Jake. She’s real.”

Your world had slowed as she faded. Her head slipped to the side as she went still.

Mo’at had crouched over her body, searching for life. A soul. The Tsahik had shaken her head and backed away. <”There wasn’t enough time.”> She’d whispered.

Panic had you scrambling up from your crouch. You stumbled over the extended roots of the tree, dropping to your knees near Grace’s head. Neytiri had already removed her exo pack and laid it beside her. She had looked peaceful, still smiling even in death.

Your quivering hand had cupped her face as you desperately called her name. Growing more frantic when she didn’t respond.

Vaguely, you had heard the clan grow restless, Mo’at turning her back to calm them. Jake and Norm had settled in front of you, shielding you from their sights.

“Y/n, she’s gone.” Norm said softly, trying to pull you away from Grace’s body.

You fought him off. <”No.”> Tears made your throat tight. <”Grace! Please.”>

Norm sighed wetly, his hands grabbing at your bicep, trying to pull you to him so he could comfort you. You struggled anew, tearing yourself away from him with a ferocious hiss. He frowned. Jake hadn’t moved from the other side of the body, his eyes distant. A puppet with his strings cut.

You followed his gaze back to Grace, to her pale skin and relaxed body. It hit you like a truck how small she was. Her hands were barely the length of your palm.

It was cold to the touch. Lifeless.

They would never ruffle through your hair again. And Grace would no longer berate you for spending too much time in the link. Nor would she remind you to eat or to take care of yourself in and out of your avatar.

Eywa had taken her home. Had welcomed her into her realm and eternal peace.

Tears slid down your cheeks as you paused to steady yourself against the trunk of a tree, the clan at your back and your fingers digging deep into the soft bark, as you struggled to control yourself. The moss was grounding beneath your fingernails, soft as a mother’s embrace.

She was gone.

Your other hand was quick to also press into the side of the tree, gripping at a low branch for dear life. Strength failed you as your knees shook, head bowed as if in prayer.

You should’ve been a better friend. Should have been there more. Should have told her how much she meant to you.

You slid to the ground, legs finally giving out as you knelt in the dirt and leaf litter, eyes squeezed shut and your breath sawing in and out. Faster and faster. Your vision blurred as spots danced before your eyes. You kept panting, picking up speed and not taking in as much air.

Gone.

The thought was so final. So commanding. A fact. The cruel truth.

You were almost too scared to accept it.

>_<

When you finally pulled yourself together enough to make it back to camp, the clan was alive with activity. The ikran riders were long gone on their various missions to rally the clans, whilst those who remained behind were readying the camp for an influx of warriors.

Mo’at was setting up a healing wing at the rear of the Tree of Souls. Whilst the People were busying themselves with cooking and tending to the wounded. Others mending weapons, tacked up pa’li and painted on each other’s war paint.

The clan moved seamlessly with a single goal despite the hundreds of bodies completing different tasks. An effortless system, well oiled by repetition and familiarity.

Tsu’tey saved you from standing idly by for too long. He materialised out of nowhere with a firm hand on your wrist. His gaze caught on your puffy eyes, before flickering all over your face as whatever he’d been meaning to say died on his tongue. You wanted to curl up and cry again, feeling pathetic as you were powerless in offering a decent explanation.

<“Come, we must prepare for war.”> Was what he finally came up with as he pulled you away from the treeline to a spare mat where various shades of war paint had already been laid out in shallow, wooden bowls. Judging by the paint smears caught in the mat fibres and the pigment staining the sides of the bowls, the station had been set up for someone else.

<“Help me.”> Tsu’tey commanded short and simple. Easy to follow.

He knelt in front of you, dragging you down to sit directly opposite him, before offering the nearest bowl of dark blue pigment. <“Just like I showed you, remember?”> He instructed, and you nodded, wordlessly taking the bowl from him and dipping two fingers in.

With a generous amount in hand, you knelt up onto your knees so you were hovering above him, he tilted his face up to follow you, giving you a perfect view and a neutral canvas. Your stomach twisted at the first touch of skin, absently remembering that this was often a task reserved for mates or family members. The act of painting on war paint was supposed to be a sign of good luck.

Your touch was feather light as you dabbed the first pair of markings high on either side of his temples, marking out the area you would later fill in with the blue. Fingers shaking, you gritted your teeth at the poor linework, wishing you had a ruler or something to make the markings sharper.

<“Properly.”> Tsu’tey growled and you scowled at him, mentally relieved when you found his eyes closed instead of boring into you. <“I am.”>

<“You’re hesitating.”> He corrected with no heat.

<“You were glaring at me like you wanted to bite me.”> You defended, to which his eyes slid open and his face contorted into a venomous frown, which had you grinning despite yourself with how fucking adorable it looked paired with the sloppy markings at his temple.

<“I was not glaring.”> He protested whilst continuing to glare. You hummed but felt soothed by the childish reaction as you went back to painting. <"And I don’t bite.”>

<“No?”> You asked suggestively to which he gave you a playful shove. You squeaked, lifting the bowl high in an attempt to steady it or not get any pigment on yourself. <“Be careful.”>

Tsu’tey rolled his eyes. <“You’re slow.”>

<“Because you’re distracting me.”>

He only snapped his teeth, to which you returned the gesture in kind, tail flicking challengingly.

Tsu’tey let the conversation taper off again, his expression smoothing out so you could continue your work easier. This time, your strokes were more confident, the earlier grief that had shaken your hands, had been momentarily chased away by the familiar banter. Finishing up the navy layer with a self-satisfied nod, you set down the bowl and reached for the bright yellow paste.

Tsu’tey watched you with a nod, satisfied by your choice before letting his eyes slip closed.

These markings came easier to you with the large swooping ‘v’ across his forehead directly below the earlier navy lines, to the twin streaks of yellow that would frame his cheeks. You dipped your thumb into the yellow to capture the precise motion of the painted line that would slice from his lower lip to his chin.

<“Good.”> Tsu’tey praised as you lent back out of his space to set down the yellow. He sat regally on the mat, shoulders back and his chin tilted up in a show of pride. You hoped you’d done the war markings justice.

<“Now sit, I will do yours.”> He ordered, picking up a bowl of muted yellow before motioning to the space in front of him. You arched a brow before sitting cross legged in your previous spot and closing your eyes at his motioning.

The cool touch of paste covered fingers to your brow made you jump, but at his hiss, you stilled yourself. His movements were bold, smooth as he mapped out the expanse of your forehead in a curved ‘u’. His hand retracted, gathering more paint, before returning to the space between your eyes and dragging down your nose.

<“So,”> his hand jumped away from your face as you started talking. <“What do you want to talk about?”>

<“No talking.”> He gritted out, his other hand coming up to grip your jaw between his fingers so he could continue painting the mute yellow stripe down your nose. <“Stay still.”>

You complied, ears swivelling to try and gauge where he was when his hands left your face for a new colour. You peaked open an eyelid, watching him pick out a vibrant white before quickly shutting it again when he turned back to you. He took his time lathering up his finger this time.

<“So you and Neytiri are good then?”> You blurted, wincing at the lack of decorum and the randomness of the statement.

Tsu’tey huffed softly, amused by your lack of tact. <“Yes.”>

<“How long ago did you end your courtship?”>

<“Nosy.”>

<“I just want to know how badly I need to beat Jake’s ass, when round 2 inevitably comes around.”> You defended, jumping when his cold finger landed above your eyebrow near the bottom of the yellow strip and began to outline the mark.

<”You talked with him?”>

<”Shouted would be more accurate.”> You admitted.

He chuckled, eyes on his lap before returning to his work. <“She was not mine.”> Tsu’tey replied simply, as if that was all there was to it. There was no sadness in his tone, but rather a sense of relief and peace. <“We were more like siblings than lovers. It was my duty to the clan to be mated to her, and now it is not.”>

<“And now you’re free.”> You finished, eyes slipping open to catch the lopsided smile on his face.

<“To mate whoever I wish.”> He agreed with a tilt of his head, finger tracing your cheek a little firmer than before as he smeared the white accents into the muted yellow base layer. <“If they choose me in return.”>

Your heart pinched as you smiled. <“I wish you happiness.”>

Previous chapter <- Act 3 -> Next Chapter

#Tsu'tey #tsu'tey x reader #gender neutral reader #multi-chapter fic

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