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jaylaxies · 6 months

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TIDES AND TEMPTATION

PAIRING: siren!sunghoon x fem!reader

GENRE/CW: smut, fluff, angst, mentions of kidnapping, pirates, war, blood, sirens and mer-people, mentions of nicknames, cunnilingus, breeding, unprotected sex, underwater kingdom.

WC: 5.2k words

WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni

A/N: happiest birthday to my love @celeste-hoon this one’s for youu <3 also hihi, angels! we’ve finally reached the last fic for this year’s kinktober! i hope you guys will like it :3 all likes, comments, reblogs and feedbacks are highly appreciated! iloveyou all <33

✎ kinktober masterlist

The sound of waves crashing against one another, the sudden buzz of urgent chatter and running, and the burn of ropes digging into the flesh of your wrists woke you up from your uncomfortable slumber of unconsciousness.

It was bright, albeit the lack of sunlight as the clouds covered the sky. You blinked once, and twice before realizing exactly where you were, your mind reeling back to what had happened over the past one day—or more. You weren’t aware of how long you had been knocked out for.

You remember going out with your friends at the sea shore, your peace interrupted by the sudden screams, the pain following soon after you saw the group of pirates trying to capture everyone in the vicinity, you weren’t an exception.

Your cries were ignored. Fighting back was of no use as they easily took control, using the rope to tie you up as they carried you into the massive blue coloured ship, your body too tired to keep up, falling limp till you reached here.

You were on the deck, tied up with a lot more people who were just as panicked if not more, yet you couldn’t spot any of your friends. The pirates were in a rush, their swords out and a sweet melody lingering in the air despite the bloodshed filled atmosphere.

You cried out, not sure as to who the pirates were fighting, but it seemed as if everyone was suddenly in a trance, which kept on breaking and emerging again as they attacked the other force.

Suddenly, a guy rushed to where you were tied up, cutting your ropes and pulling you up as you struggled against his grip, tears flowing down your cheeks with the chaos around you, no energy left in you.

The ship wasn’t in control anymore, the waves overpowered the balance, the sweet melody in the background loud enough to put you in a trance, your eyes shifting from the blue of the water to the sea cave which shone bright, embedded with the prettiest set of stones you had ever seen, along with the creatures you didn’t know existed till date.

You weren’t sure what you felt as the ship flipped completely, the screams muffled as you came in contact with the water, your eyes closing as you failed to try to swim, the coldness of water making it harder.

However, you were pulled to the side by someone, your eyes barely open to take in the sight of what looked like a tail, its scales mixed with a palette of blues, dark greens, slightest shades of purple and pink merging together to form a luminescent look.

Your eyes closed shut yet again, and the creature took you deep inside the siren caverns, helping you up on the flat surface of the emerald rock, looking at you with dark, curious eyes.

You were far from the water where the bloodshed had taken place, the pirate crew along with the prisoners long gone, devoured by the mer-people, who once looked like the prettiest entities on earth, now seemed to be no less than demons with their claws out, sharp canines on display as they munched on their new food source.

But not the siren who was with you.

He looked ethereal with the white glow around which illuminated his figure, one strand of his dark hair braided intricately, tiny flowers adorning them as he looked down at your unconscious figure with a slight tilt of his head, holding himself up on the rock, letting his tail rest in the water.

Your wet dress was now clinging to your body, beads of sand on your skin and your breathing uneven, eyes threatening to open again with distress.

He didn’t move when you opened your eyes, which were full of hurt and exhaustion, you couldn’t scream in fear. Instead, you found yourself staring back at him just as curiously, taking in the pretty moles scattered all over his body, his soft glistening pink lips with fangs peeking out and resting on them. You took notice of the dainty jewelry he had adorned, from his necklace to his ear cuffs, from his arm cuff which barely contained his muscles to the gold chain he had around his slender waist, you observed it all.

He was the prettiest creature you had ever come across.

He wondered why he was so fascinated when he was supposed to hate your kind, the kind which destroyed his kingdom.

But not you. You looked lost, scared, as if the humans didn’t show mercy to their own kinds too, he was intrigued, his heart beating faster taking in the soft glow the carven stones reflected upon you.

“Let me go,” your voice came out breathless, body shaking with the cool air around you, caressing your soaked body.

His expression didn’t change, however you could see a glimpse of amusement in his eyes at your plea.

He took a hold of your chin, sensing your fear heightening with his move, “what’s your name?” He asked, voice smooth as if his siren tone was trying to comply you to answer him.

Your voice came out in a whisper as you told him your name, which he repeated after you to get the pronunciation right and you suddenly felt as if your name was the prettiest thing you’d ever heard.

The small moment was ruined the second other sirens came swimming into the cavern, hissing as they saw you but they stopped the second they noticed another siren with you.

“Fuck! Let go of me,” you exasperated, not wanting to become food for the bloodthirsty creatures.

His gaze was stoic all of a sudden as he addressed them, paying your words zero attention, no traces of kindness as his loud voice boomed in the area, “touch her and you die,” he warned everyone, the fear evident in their eyes as they bowed down, swimming back into the depths of the ocean.

“How?” You breathed out, and he turned to look your way again, cupping your cheek, sudden warmth blooming in your body and you were torn, trying to decide if you wanted to hate him or not.

“Open your mouth,” he orders, and you gulp, shaking your head despite knowing that you had nowhere to escape, but also slightly aware of the fact that you felt a pull towards this siren, and it scared you even further. “Don’t be difficult,” he warned.

Slowly, you parted your mouth, observing his next move. He was quick to snap open his heart shaped pendant, taking a white pearl out and placing it on your tongue, the taste buds already delighted at the sweetness the pearl harboured.

“Eat it, it’ll help you breathe in the water,” he said, eyes so dark yet shiny.

“No! What? No, I can’t go in there—” you looked horrified at the idea.

He simply looked at you, “you have nowhere else to go. So, it’s either you follow me, or you become food for the others,” he said, referring to the sirens which you had encountered a few minutes back.

He left you no choice, his gaze sharp as he waited for your answer. With a gulp, you nodded, choosing to follow him as he saved your life, finally intaking the pearl, watching him nod with the slightest upliftment of his lip.

“Come,” he extended his hand for you to take.

“Wait,” you stopped him, “what’s your name?”

“Sunghoon,” he spoke, voice rich as he finally held on to your hand, intertwining your fingers, “and you belong to me now.”

He didn’t give you a chance to react pulling you with him. Panic seeped through you, which was soon replaced by shock as you could easily breathe under the water, as said by Sunghoon, who held on to you tighter, taking you deep inside the water.

You were mesmerized by the schools of fishes around you, coral reefs of all colours decorating the sea. Nothing felt real to you anymore. It was too surreal to be real, especially the siren next to you, who had his eyes set on you.

You didn’t know what was to come.

If someone told you you’d be visiting a royal palace deep inside the sea then you would have laughed in their face.

However, now that you had actually reached such a place, trying to hold in your panic, you weren’t sure how to react, granted that you had pinched yourself a few times to wake up in case it was a dream.

Which wasn’t the case sadly.

The shock was clear on your face when the tailed guards with tridents bowed down looking at Sunghoon. The place was epitome of beauty, decorated with underwater planktons and shells, the merfolks eyed you with curiosity, to which you held on to Sunghoon’s arm tighter.

“Why are we here? Don’t tell me you’re a prince,” you said, still wondering how you got to breathe under the water, also staring at the big shell covered with foam, a few mermaids sitting there, whispering amongst themselves but it was clear that you were the topic of their gossip.

Sunghoon didn’t answer your question, taking you into a big chamber which seemed to be his room, and you stilled, thinking that maybe he did belong to the royal family.

“Jake, come here,” Sunghoon called out, revealing a siren with an elegant, green coloured tail.

He bowed down the second he was summoned in front of Sunghoon, “yes, your majesty?”

“Set up a chamber with no water. It should have the atmosphere similar to that of the land. Also arrange human clothing as per the size of my princess,” he ordered, eyes flickering towards you when he spoke the last part and Jake bowed down, leaving you both alone.

“Y—you’re actually a prince? Oh god, I can’t be staying here—and what do you mean princess?” You rambled, losing your mind, your eyes comically wide at this statement.

It must be a joke, it has to be a joke.

“Shh,” he came closer, trapping you against the wall, “I told you, you belong to me now, princess,” he spoke up in his ever so silky voice, his eyes glowing.

“But—”

“Oh, princess,” he cupped your cheek, thumb tracing the curve of your cheek, “you’re cute if you think you have a choice, there’s no way to go back now, the ship is destroyed.” His voice came out deeper than you had expected, lips brushing against your ear, causing goosebumps to arise on your skin.

“You know this is kidnapping, right?” You tried to argue.

“Not when you want to be here,” he retorted, looking back at you, his pointy nose caressing yours, “you can fight all you want, princess. It won’t change the fact that your heart beats fast whenever I come close to you,” he says, pulling back with a smirk and swimming away, leaving you all alone in his chamber.

You couldn’t move, as if he saw right through you when he mentioned your heartbeat, because no matter how hard you tried, even you couldn’t convince yourself that you weren’t a flustered mess around him.

You didn’t know how they managed to set up a chamber without the water but somehow it happened, and in record time too, which had you sighing with pleasure when your feet finally landed on the floor.

Meanwhile, you were conflicted again, not sure if you’d be okay alone in a room, but at the same time you didn’t wish to sleep with Sunghoon (read: you feared you’d lose control around him) but the thought didn’t bother you for long as you sat down on the big foamy bed they had arranged for you, along with myriads of clothes in all colours and patterns, majority of them consisting of silky dresses, the fabric more watery than water itself.

You half expected Sunghoon to visit you before sleeping, which didn’t happen and you couldn’t deny that it disappointed you, granted you knew no one but him.

Your feelings were all over the place, nothing felt real but you weren’t sure if the reality of being on land would be any better than the comfort you’re seeking being under the water, away from the danger as you remembered that you indeed have someone who’s willing to save you.

Yet you can’t help but want to fight him for being so unnecessarily cocky, then again, he was a prince, and a siren prince at that, you couldn’t blame him for the way he was.

Sleep came easily, especially when you were in the comfort of the foamy bed they had arranged for you while you were clad in the silkiest night slip you found in the grand closet, which again was arranged for you in record time.

You weren’t sure how long you slept, but your body needed the rest, and by the time you woke up, all your little wounds and bruises were gone from the fight yesterday, not to mention how you were surrounded by a bunch of curious mermaids who were sent to take care of you, their tails had turned into legs as they entered your room.

“Hey, nice to meet you guys,” you spoke awkwardly, glad that they weren’t being rude to you, but they were curious about you.

“Does his highness talk to you?”

“How did you guys meet?”

“Prince Sunghoon never brings anyone back to the palace, you must be really special to him.”

All three spoke up, making your eyes go wide, “he doesn’t?” You ask and they shake their heads to confirm the statement.

You feel your cheeks beating up, trying to look elsewhere to calm down. The mermaids were nice, taking you to the royal bath first, also fetching you some human food, surprisingly the most scrumptious one you had ever consumed.

However, they were quick to leave the second Sunghoon arrived at your chamber, his tail too getting converted into long legs, his torso on display but his legs covered with a blue-green silky cloth wrapped around his waist, being the same colour as his tail.

“Slept well, princess?” He asked, approaching where you sat down on your bed.

“Don’t call me that, I won’t ever be your princess,” you breathed out.

“Feisty one, aren’t you?” He clicked his tongue, face indifferent as if he was expecting this exact reaction.

He came closer, observing your face where the scratch wound had been previously, he smelled like fresh ocean breeze, the kind that makes you feel alive even on the dullest of your days, and you couldn’t help but clear your throat and look away.

“How do you have legs now?” You asked, deviating your attention, but he continued staring at your face, “don’t you have princely duties to take care of?” You asked, trying to get him to talk, but again, he continued to stare at you, his head tilting slightly as you gulped, not looking into his eyes.

“Taking care of my princess is a part of my duty,” he said as smooth as ever, leaving you speechless yet again.

You didn’t notice the necklace he had in his slender fingers, made up of prettiest shades of little shells. It was delicate, almost magical with how sparkling it looked to the eyes, “got them made from the rarest shells of the kingdom,” he spoke up, inching closer to help you wear it.

His touch was cold, juxtaposing the trail of warmth he left he left behind as he clasped it behind your neck, your eyelids fluttering close at the proximity, a shiver running down your spine as he whispered into your ear, “I found the necklace pretty, but you made it look prettier.”

It was impossible for you to stop thinking about Sunghoon it seemed, even more so when you had the prettiest necklace resting on your clavicle. It was as if the water around you had some sort of magic which made your mind drift back to the certain dark haired prince over and over again.

Maybe it was because you were in his kingdom, or maybe because he was a siren, the creature famous for its manipulative skills. Yet you knew he wasn’t using his siren voice or anything related to that when he talked to you.

Shaking your head, you focused on exploring the palace with your three new friends, the mermaids you had met earlier in the morning. The word pretty would not be enough to describe your surroundings as you observed the tiny pink seahorses moving around in a line at the back gardens of the palace.

“I see how envious everyone is, their stares could actually kill,” one of the mermaids spoke up.

“Why don’t you guys hate me?” You grimaced while asking.

“Because the prince has his eyes set on you and you only—also, we are his cousins so we don’t really like the whole idea of incest,” they explained with soft smiles.

“Oh—” you said out loud before they nudged you to look at the person who was already present in your chamber, none other than your prince.

A sudden wave of giddiness travelled down your body, leaving just as quick when you mentally reminded yourself to not fall for his antics. He was a siren chasing a human girl after all.

“Prince Sunghoon. What do I owe this pleasure for?” You ask, standing in front of his taller frame as your friends leave you in privacy, closing the door behind them as they leave.

He stood with his back facing you, and that was a dangerous sight already with his muscles flexing at every little movement of his.

To prevent this from happening (read: your mind going mush at the sight of him), you moved swiftly and situated yourself in the comfort of your big bed, his eyes observing you carefully, just like always and the action was enough for the corner of his lips to lift up ever so slightly.

“Prince and Princess should sleep together, don’t you think so, pretty?” He asked in his velvety tone.

Each time you try to step back to calm yourself, Sunghoon comes up saying something bizarre, leaving you more disoriented than before.

“W—what are you talking about? We’re not even married yet—”

“Yet. Well, I’m glad to see you being enthusiastic about it,” he mused, harbouring a lopsided grin as he neared you.

Your mouth was open as you tried to display just how against you were of the idea, “I’m not marrying you,” you confirmed.

He rolled his eyes, wrapping his fingers around your ankle, pulling you closer effortlessly, enough for your face to be inches away from him, your legs dangling on either side of him as he stood in between your legs.

“Cute,” he chuckled, taking the authority with less to no effort, his sharp fangs on display as he grabs your neck in a swift moment, the action has you seeing stars even with the lack of pressure on his hold, other hand caressing your bottom lip with his thumb, brushing the same spot over and over again.

“Sunghoon—”

“Y’know what, princess? You remind me of this little creature I came across when I visited your land. She was just like you—hissing and scratching till I got down on my knees and gave her gentle caresses on her back,” he told the story, making you freeze on spot, his voice captivating, “such a sweet kitten she was. You’re the same, so violent despite being a cute little kitten, all you need is a gentle caress—” he caressed your cheek to make a point, “to have you mewling like a kitten.”

You couldn’t stop the little whimper escaping your lips the second he said so, proving his point even further as your cheeks burned with embarrassment? Proximity? His fingers around your neck? Or the way he made you mewl exactly like a cat? You couldn’t decide.

“Sweet dreams, princess.” He smirked, leaving you alone for the night, speechless as ever.

You couldn’t, for the life of you, face Sunghoon after the little stunt he pulled last night and you did everything in your power to avoid him the following day, which he found amusing as he watched you swimming away from a distance, using your pretty legs in the middle of other sirens, the necklace still wrapped around your pretty neck.

Others complained how he didn’t smile much to none, which changed when he found himself smiling with his dimples on display at the sight of his cousin mermaids giving you various sea flowers, tucking them behind your ear, which made them glow. The bioluminescence felt like magic to you as they glowed when you smiled, moving around and discovering the secrets these deep waters held, your eyes meeting Sunghoon’s for a brief second when you realized he’s watching from the balcony of his chambers. Your breath hitched, the sight of his torso never failing to get you flustered as you averted your eyes to focus on something else—anything else.

You couldn’t help but admit that you enjoyed this new life, and that you were grateful to be alive, to be saved by a certain siren who was in your mind twenty four seven, the circadian clock adjusting to your new ways of living.

You watched yourself in the big reflecting surface which served to be the mirror in your room, your skin had a newfound glow and your body looked pretty clad in the blue dress which was lighter than the air, the fabric almost felt like silky fluid.

The noise of shuffling behind you caught your attention, and you simply assumed that it would be Sunghoon who had come to visit you again, which wasn’t the case as you turned around to see an ugly siren with its claws out, reaching out to you with the most gut wrenching scream it could muster.

Your eyes widened, hands covering your ear to save your precious eardrums, crouching down to save yourself.

Maybe you said it too early, maybe this life was just a little something god had given to you before trying to snatch everything away from you, including your life. You waited for the attack, you waited for the trident to pierce your body.

Yet the attack never came.

With your body shaking, you dared to open your eyes, only to find Sunghoon with his eyes pitch black as he held on to the other siren by its neck. His grip was strong, the sound of bone crushing only made you look away in fear, “how dare you—” he spoke up, voice loud and shaking with anger, “—try to hurt my princess?” He didn’t hold back anymore, slamming his head on the floor, blood splattering everywhere, a few drops landing on his face.

Sunghoon didn’t wish to drag it long, especially when he knew that you were terrified, “clean it up,” he ordered Jake, who was quick to oblige his command.

“Princess,” Sunghoon spoke up once you were alone in the chamber, his voice gentle as you looked up at him through tears, noticing that the siren was nowhere to be found, “he’s gone, he won’t be back,” Sunghoon told you.

You stood up shaking, rushing into his arms. Sunghoon was quick to wrap his arms around your waist, the other hand resting on the back of your head, patting you gently to calm you down.

“Hoon,” you whispered, “why did he come after me?” You asked, resting your head on his shoulder.

“He wanted the crown, so—so he went after the person I cherished the most,” Sunghoon told you earnestly, trying not to kiss you the second you used the nickname.

“Please don’t lie to me,” your voice came out as a whisper, lower lip jutting out in a pout. You couldn’t resist him anymore.

He cradled your face, his fingertips soft against your skin, providing you with the warmth you had gotten so familiar with over the past few days, maybe it was the way he had protected you since the day he first laid his eyes on you, maybe it was how he never failed to express his emotions when it came to you, speaking whatever came to his mind, maybe it was how his eyes were full of love and a promise of something more.

That’s what made you want to kiss the prettiest creature you had ever met.

His touch was light as the feather, which allowed you to move swiftly as you got on your tippy toes, placing your soft lips against his rosy ones in a quick kiss.

Your heart was beating out of your chest, the tenderness lingering behind on your lips, but that wasn’t enough for him. He bit his lower lip, pulling you closer by the waist, his body pressing against yours as he pulled you into a feverish kiss, the kind that leaves you breathless, his lips slotting against yours in a perfect manner, as if puzzle pieces put together.

“Tell me to stop,” he breathed out the second he separated from the kiss.

“Why? Don’t you want your princess now—” you couldn’t even finish your sentence before he was picking you up with ease, lips on your again, his muscles flexing as he carried you to the bed, getting on top of you, giving you a second to breathe.

It was the way he stared so deeply into your eyes, it had you melting in his arms, “want you,” you admitted, “so much.”

His smile was wide, mesmerizing you to the point you had to lean on your elbow, kissing his dimpled cheek before trailing kisses down his jaw. The peck on his Adam's apple however, was enough to drive him over the edge.

You looked so pretty like this, lips glossy and eyes begging to have more of him, all of him. It was like a tune playing in the background when he dipped down to trail kisses all over your clavicle, sucking love marks all over your previously untouched skin, his fangs digging into your flesh slightly, providing you with the perfect mixture of pain and pleasure, your back arching as he got rougher with his approach.

His touch was electrifying as he grabbed the curve of your waist, “you’re my human, all mine,” he mumbled against your skin. If his voice was alluring for you then every inch of you was alluring for him.

Your dress was easy to remove, soon thrown on the ground, exposing your body to Sunghoon, who swears he’d worship you each day. You squeeze his bicep, holding on to him tight, his finesse showing as he takes your tits in his mouth, squeezing the other one when you moaned, no room in between you for any air to pass through.

He continued kissing lower and lower, covering the expanse of your body in a silent prayer. He was claiming you his.

Lifting your legs on his shoulder, he continued peppering kisses all over your lower abdomen, your fingers tugging on his silky roots to get a grip, pretty whines leaving your lips, telling him to stop teasing.

He couldn’t ever deny you, now sucking on your clit, tongue tasting every drop of your arousal, prodding your entrance. The brush of his nose on your clit had you shivering with need, “Hoonie,” you whispered, eyes closing at the unadulterated bliss he provided you with.

He fucked his tongue into your hole, desperate to have your taste all over him, the rings on his fingers juxtaposing the warmth of your body as he held your thighs open, his shoulders providing to be sturdy and strong for your legs.

It was too much, your hands were sweaty, now gripping on the silky sheets as you stared at the watery ceiling, which reflected the lewd image back at you—Prince Sunghoon buried in your cunt, immersed in eating you out, wanting to have every inch of his princess.

Your back arched into him, craving more of him as you felt your high approaching with the spasming of your pussy, your body not being able to handle more of his ministrations, his thumb rubbing your clit in circles, lewd noises all around the room as you finally orgasmed, telling him taste all of you.

“Fuck, you’re my sweet nectar and I’m obsessed,” he muttered, coming up to push his tongue inside your mouth, the kiss deeper than ever as you tasted yourself on his tongue.

You didn’t even notice when he unpinned his cloth from his waist, the delicate chain and ornaments decorating his perfectly sculpted body as you finally saw him—long, thick, and hard for you. Your mind blanked out, it wasn’t gonna fit, but you couldn’t help but whine for more.

“Make me yours,” you whispered, and he pulled you impossibly closer, as if trying to meld his body with yours, your arousal had his lips glistening, his eyes turning dark again.

“You’re so fucking mine,” he spoke in a deep breath, pumping his cock a few times, “all mine,” he pecked the corner of your mouth, chuckling as you chased for more.

And he gave you exactly that, your eager holes taking him in slowly as he pushed himself inside your warm cunt, the walls clenching around, trying to adjust to his length and for a second you forgot that you were being fucked by a siren, his cock too perfect, too big for you.

“Oh god,” you cried out as he pumped himself into you slowly, trying to fit himself into you by each thrust. You were so fucked out already, wanting to kiss Sunghoon every chance you got and you were afraid of how fast you developed feelings for your pretty siren.

“That’s it, baby. That’s my good girl,” he praised as you took him in fully, his cock snugly fit inside you, your toes curling with the overwhelming sensation. He grabbed your hips, pistoning into you harder, faster, panting near your ear before keeping his forehead against yours in hopes of mapping out, learning and remembering every expression of yours.

Oh you looked beautiful.

The moonlight coming down from the mirror-like ceiling only casted a glow on you, making you seem even more magical than Sunghoon thought you are and you wanted this moment to last forever, his cock twitching and hitting the deepest spots in you, the spots that had your mind shutting off.

“So—so close,” you whimpered, and he held on to you tighter.

“Let go, princess. Come for me,” he said, kissing your tears of pleasure away as he too rushed to fuck you harder, making sure you felt every inch of him in your core, filling you up as you heard sweet melodies, as if you had reached heaven, you both coming undone together, holding each other with need.

He kissed your temple, caressing your cheek before placing sweet kisses all over, telling you how well you did, before saying something that made you cry out of what you’d call love.

“I used to sit on the rock staring at the moon, my mother told me I’d get my soulmate soon,” he said, looking at you softly, the look in his eyes was enough to confirm that you wanted to stay with him for life.

“And now that I’ve found you, I’m never letting you go, princess.”

THANK YOU FOR READING!

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astraystayyh · 11 months

Text

Invisible thread- one

pairing : minho x reader

genre : university au, academic rivals to lovers (rivals not enemies because they respect each other), slow burn, fluff, angst.

warnings : reader has a very bad relationship with her mother, insecurities, talk about murder but as a joke, mention of alcohol, reader has she/her pronouns.

summary : Your studies were your lifeline for as long as you can remember. What happens when Minho comes into your life and rips it away from you?

word count : 20k

Author's note : I've been working on this fic on and off for the past two months, so if you do enjoy reading, please let me know. asks, comments, reblogs i read them all and they truly make me the happiest <3 (also i based this off my own college experience, where we study two terms and there is one person on top of the class every semester)

part two

You have always been first in your class.

Not because you particularly enjoyed studying. You simply felt that your worth was solely tied to the marks on your papers.

You never wanted to crumble under the pressure of studies, to hole yourself up in your room for an assignment you won’t remember in a month. But achieving good grades was the only way for you to feel seen; to make someone stop in their tracks and acknowledge you.

A simple “good job” that you preserved inside your mind, as a reminder that you did exist to other people. Considering that the majority of your life was spent in silence.

Your mom put a roof above your head and food on your table, but she never asked about your day, nor did she seem to care. You felt as though you were no more important to her than the tapestry hanging on your wall.

At times, you imagined that if you stood close enough to that tapestry, you could merge with it as one. The intricate embroidery would wrap around you and draw you in. And your mother wouldn’t notice. She would regard you with the same indifference she showed towards that textile- a mere decoration, at times a nuisance when she had to dust it.

You always ate your dinner alone. When you scraped your knee, you tended to the wound by yourself. No one attended your childhood musicals, and you patted your back when you cracked an egg without dropping a shell into the bowl.

You’ve come to learn since your young age that all your milestones, both small and significant, would be celebrated alone.

On the rare times your mother would acknowledge your presence, she’d unleash a flurry of criticism your way as if she was eagerly awaiting the opportunity to strike you down. She'd toss crude comments over her shoulder as easily as a casual hello, leaving you feeling battered and bruised in her wake.

You felt as if you were shoreline rocks, and your mother was the ocean. You never knew if she would be like a gentle tide, barely brushing against you, or an enraged storm, mercilessly crashing down on your being. And you weren't sure which one was worse: to be invisible or to be seen and despised.

That’s why you grew up plagued with self-doubt. You made friends throughout your school years but you never allowed them to get close enough to really see you -you feared that they might glimpse the very thing your mother seemed to despise in you.

Throughout your childhood, you were like soft clay in your mother's hands- pliable, and easy to mold. And she indented you, everywhere, carved in edges and dips where they should not have been ones. Handled you roughly when you should have been treated with care. And as the years went by, you hardened- much like clay, but her touch remained imprinted upon you. It was difficult at times to discern who you were and who she made you to be.

You tried to start anew when you went away to university; to rewire your brain into believing that you were enough- you exist and you shouldn't prove to anyone that you deserved to be alive. But her words haunted you, they were like skeletons in your closet- but the closet was you. You could never part from them.

So, you fell back into the same pattern of seeking good grades and congratulatory words from your professors. Every A+ you got infused you with a momentary sense of worthiness.

But unlike in high school, you weren't always the best. Your competition came in the form of a single man named Minho, who seemed to excel in every class you shared.

Minho was mostly quiet, but whenever he spoke, you found that his words carried weight. Your professors consistently agreed with his points, and you envied the confidence he exuded. You wondered what it must feel like to be so sure of oneself.

It wasn't until a month into the year that you had your first interaction with Minho. You were in your Constitutional Law class when your professor Kim brought up the notion of ‘Separation of Powers’. You were arguing that judges shouldn’t be included in the writings of law when you heard a scoff from the row behind you. You turned around, raising a brow at the culprit, "Is there something you’d like to say?" you asked.

And in response, Minho smiled lazily, an air of smugness surrounding him, "I just don’t agree." The professor urged him to explain himself, so he leaned back into his chair, eyeing you. "Judges are the ones who practice the law every day, and sometimes they find that none of the written texts fit their case. If they get involved in lawmaking, they can help address those gaps or uncertainties."

"Who's to say that those judges aren’t biased or politically motivated? They’ll end up writing laws to fit their own preferences," you pointed out, raising an eyebrow at him. "We elect judges to interpret and apply laws, not make them. If they start writing laws too, we'll be violating the separation of powers between the legislative and judicial branches. That's what keeps our entire system from crumbling."

Minho rested his chin on his hand, tapping his cheek thoughtfully with his index finger. "Aren’t legislators prone to biases too? Your point doesn’t stand then," he challenged, tilting his head to the side, "and judges can participate without going overboard. They can provide input on proposed laws without actually drafting them. That way, we ensure that the laws are crafted with a clear understanding of how they'll be put into practice."

"If your main concern is to ensure that the laws are impartial, we have people who work as consulting experts whose job is exactly that," you flashed him an innocent smile, firing back. "Also, wouldn’t these overstepping branches put the judges in a position to be perceived in a bad light? Is that what you want?"

Before Minho could respond, Mr. Kim intervened, putting an end to your debate, "Let's save this energy for your essays and see who can convince me more."

You gave a quick nod, swiveling in your seat without a backward glance. However, you could sense Minho’s gaze penetrating through your back- as if he was trying to read your most intimate thoughts.

That was the first thing you noticed about Minho when he walked over to you. His eyes were brown, not a special color by any means. But they held a certain depth to them that seemed to draw you in like a black hole. You weren't sure what you would find on the other side, nor did you have any desire to find out.

He outstretched his hands towards you, stopping you in your tracks. "Minho," he introduced and your hand met his in a firm grip. The second thing you noticed about him was the coldness of his hand, as it wrapped tightly around your palm.

Suddenly you were taken back to when you built a snowman for the first and last time. You were just seven and the ice was freezing, numbing your fingers as you worked. Your mother never told you that you should’ve worn mittens, or a thick jacket to fight off the cold when she saw you walking out of the house. The memory of your cold hands and the horrible illness that followed still left a bitter taste in your mouth, like an unripe fruit. With a jolt you dropped his hand, forcefully pulling yourself away from that memory.

"Yn," you said back, and he smiled to himself, repeating your name slowly, each syllable dripping from his tongue.

"We'll see who'll write the best essay, right?" he asked, clearly challenging you. There was a gleam of excitement in his eyes that reminded you of a child gazing up at cotton candy.

That was the third thing you noticed about Minho; how expressive his eyes were. They moved with his every word, punctuating them.

He was infuriating but also amusing. You've never had a clear competitor in your life. Or maybe you had, but you didn't notice them. You were always so reclined on yourself, trying to survive the day, you didn't pay enough attention to your surroundings.

"You want to compete with me?" You asked, and he smirked, leaning against the door, arms crossed in front of his chest. "What? Scared you’d lose?"

"Please." You rolled your eyes at his taunting, "Don’t come crying when I win."

"We’ll see about that!" He shouted after you as you walked ahead, leaving him behind.

This essay was insignificant. A simple way for your professor to assess your knowledge and work approach. And yet, you found yourself staying up all night to complete it. There was no way you were going to let Minho take this one thing from you.

Who were you if not the best in your studies? You were deathly afraid to find out.

Later on that week, the professor handed you your grade back, 98%. You turned around to show Minho your mark, and so did he. You surpassed him, only by mere percents. "I told you so," you smiled cheekily and he pouted, holding a hand to his heart as if your grade wounded him.

"I'll beat you next time", he mouthed and you chuckled, "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

✹✹✹

The first time you studied with Minho was in a cat café near campus, called Limbo, about two weeks after your initial interaction. You stumbled upon it serendipitously while strolling through your university town. You couldn’t study at home, since you were easily distracted in there, and the eerie silence of libraries often left you unsettled.

Limbo, however, offered the perfect middle-ground: it was calm, not overly crowded, and the buzzing of the coffee machine blended harmoniously with the occasional mewls of cats, which helped you concentrate better.

You were sitting in a secluded corner table at the café's back, a sleeping black cat comfortably nestled in your lap when you sensed a shadow loom over you. You glanced up quickly to find Minho. He was clad in a grey hoodie sporting a bunny holding up its middle finger. You had to bite your cheek to suppress a grin at his clothing attire.

"What are you doing here?" He asked.

"You know for someone smart you sure ask stupid questions," you remarked, already looking down at the papers scattered in front of you.

He huffed, taking a seat at the table right next to yours, "I can’t believe that of all places you’ve found this café to study in."

"My apologies, am I disturbing you, your highness?" You asked sarcastically, and in retort, Minho mimicked your words in a high-pitched tone. You threw the pillow right next to you at his head, and Minho swiftly ducked, easily avoiding it. He chuckled loudly while you glared at his laughing figure. That was the end of your conversation that day.

From that moment forward, it became a routine for the two of you to study at Limbo, every Saturday, without fault. You didn’t explicitly plan on it, but it seemed that both of you found it comforting to work there. And you could also tell that, unlike you, it wasn’t Minho’s first time coming to Limbo. He was friends with the owner, a sweet middle-aged man who offered you pastries whenever you stayed there until closing. The cats seemed to know him too, they mewled at his feet whenever he entered and he always greeted them with a soft smile on his face.

You didn’t talk much in those unofficial study sessions, the both of you were consumed by your own work. But you’d steal quick glances at him every now and then, the sight of him so concentrated only fueled you to work harder.

Admittedly, your competition left you feeling anxious for days on end at first. Each time Minho came out on top, you’d found yourself losing your grip. Your studies have been the one anchor keeping you afloat your entire life, and now, Minho was ripping it carelessly away from you. So, you resented him- you were human after all.

But then, you realized that Minho’s taunting wasn’t malicious. He wasn’t competing with you to hurt you, he was doing it for amusement only.

You've slowly started to learn that despite his relentless teasing, Minho had a gentle aura surrounding him. Glimpses of which occasionally emerged like rays of sunshine piercing through a thick cloud cover.

True, he chuckled when you accidentally bumped your head on the table while retrieving a fallen pen. Yet, you also noticed how he began to cover the table's corners with his hand whenever you bent down. He swiftly retracted his hand, seemingly believing you didn't notice, but you did.

During class presentations, he deliberately prepared challenging questions for you, urging you to study twice as hard to ensure no stone was left unturned. Yet, whenever the professor praised your performance, Minho offered a subtle thumbs-up as a gesture of support. He winked at you each time he got the right answer and you didn’t. However, when he noticed you struggling with a particular subject, he scooted closer and patiently explained it to you. He got up before you could thank him, swatting his arm in the air as if he didn’t do anything of significance.

To show your appreciation, you bought him a drink that day he helped you—a simple gesture that sparked an ongoing game of "win a bet, get free food". You bet on who would receive the first mark on an assignment or who would finish an essay first- anything to further deepen the competition between you.

That's how you came to know that he loved puddings, among other things.

Curiously, as the months went by, your mind began to retain these little details about him. How his eyelashes fluttered like butterfly wings when he blinked repeatedly during your conversations. How he glanced at the ceiling when lost in deep thought as if he was waiting for the answers to descend from the sky. Or how his lips take on the shape of an "o" while thinking of his response during one of your many debates. But you supposed that it was natural to take notice of such things when you spend countless Saturday afternoons with the same person.

You were still studying for someone else, in the sense that each time you stayed up working, it was solely to prove your worth to Minho. But at least unlike your mother, Minho's words never haunted you at night.

✹✹✹

Just like that, four months have gone by since you joined your university as a law major. It was nearing finals week and you were preparing it at Limbo. Minho was naturally present too, at his usual table right next to yours.

On the last weekend before the beginning of your finals, you were head-deep into your Criminal Law documents when Minho abruptly got up from his seat and settled in the chair in front of you.

"Yn," he whispers and you glance at him, "What?"

"I have an idea."

"Keep it to yourself," you grin sarcastically, only for him to pick up your spoon and move it around in a threatening manner.

"Are you trying to scare me with a spoon?" you chuckle in disbelief.

"Anything can be a weapon if you use enough force."

"Okay… that was creepy. What do you want?"

"The end of the first term is coming up. So, to celebrate our little rivalry-"

"It's not a rivalry if I’m always winning," you cut him off.

"Yeah, that’s why I have a fridge full of pudding."

"But-"

"Anyways, how about the top of the class takes the other out for dinner? A fancy one." He suggests, his gaze fixed on you.

"No, thank you. I already see you enough in classes."

"Didn’t think you wouldn’t up for a bet. Guess I was wrong," he remarks, a cheeky smile drawn on his lips. He knows you couldn’t possibly say no now.

"Fine," you roll your eyes at his proud expression. "Prepare your wallet."

"Mm, sure," he responds, before rising from his seat once more.

That day, you both lost track of time as you studied in Limbo until it closed down. When you finally stepped outside, stretching your tired limbs, you were met with the sight of falling snowflakes.

"Nooo, go away. I don't want to watch the first snow with you," Minho whines, referring to the superstition that watching the first snowfall with someone could spark love between the two of you.

"As if I could ever love you," you laugh at the ridiculous idea, "that’d just be signing a death warrant."

You resume walking towards your apartment when suddenly something freezing and hard hits your back with enough force to make you stagger. Turning around slowly, you find Minho erupting in laughter, his body filled with uncontainable joy. He’s jumping and clapping excitedly, and for a fleeting moment, you can’t decide if your shock was from the impact or from how beautiful happiness looks on him.

Snapping out of your daze, you swiftly retaliate by scooping up a handful of snow and hurling it at him. "Now you are cold too!" you shout, while he’s still laughing uncontrollably.

Thus begins an impromptu snowball fight between the two of you. Unsurprisingly, you’re being competitive in this too, trying your best to strike each other before the other could recover. But Minho draws nearer to you, and in your desperation to win, you fall to the ground when he throws a snowball at your chest, gasping as if you’re in pain.

"Shit, did I hurt you?" Minho quickly kneels in front of you, concern evident in his voice. It surprises you for a moment- how worried he seems at the prospect of causing you pain.

But you shake that thought off and push him down to the ground, a proud smile on your face. In his fall, Minho instinctively reaches for you to steady himself, which ends up with you landing on top of him. Your faces are mere inches apart, and a soft gasp escapes your mouth at your sudden proximity.

Minho has a mole on his nose. You’ve never noticed that before.

You quickly push yourself off of him, not enjoying being this close to somebody. "Why did you drag me down with you?" you grumble, shaking off the snow from your hair.

"Play stupid games, win stupid prizes," he cheekily stuck out his tongue, and you respond with the same childlike gesture before the both of you burst into loud laughter. The sound reverberates through your entire being, and it echoes in your mind long after the two of you go your separate ways.

As you lay in bed that night, ready to drift off to sleep, a quiet realization dawns on you. This was the first time you've touched snow in since your childhood incident.

That unpleasant memory didn't cross your mind once. Instead, all you thought about was Minho’s infectious laughter, and the surprising warmth it stirred within you.

✹✹✹

You came first in your grade this semester.

True to his words, Minho texted you the name of the restaurant where you’d both meet to celebrate your win. As you got ready for your outing, you couldn’t help the nerves creeping up on you. Studying in silence next to Minho was something, going to a friendly dinner with him was another. You feared it would be too awkward and Minho would regret ever proposing such a thing.

So, as you sit in the refined BBQ restaurant waiting for him, you fidget with your hands, counting down to three in your head in an attempt to steady your breathing.

You were clearly not accustomed to existing with Minho outside of the confines of your studies.

"Did you wait long?" Minho asks as he finally pulls the chair in front of you and you shake your head no.

"Are you nervous?" he chuckles at your lack of words, and you frown, suddenly feeling defensive. "Why would I be nervous? This isn't a date."

"Who said anything about a date?" he smirks and you grab your fork threateningly, pointing it at him, "Don't say anything stupid or I will walk out."

"And stand me up on our first date? That's too mean.” He pouts, a hand on his heart and you can’t help but giggle at his antics. You were ridiculous for being nervous. This was Minho, the one person you’ve talked to the most since the start of this year.

"What will you have?" he asks and you smile mischievously.

"Most expensive thing on the menu."

"So you are only here for the food."

"Well, it's certainly not for your company," you wink and he chuckles, his bunny teeth on full display.

"And here I thought we were going to be civil with each other."

"When are we ever not?" you gasp dramatically and Minho swats your hand with the menu. "Just order whatever," you finally answer," I trust your food judgment."

"I could poison you, you know?" He smiles proudly and you roll your eyes at him, "Can’t you be normal, for once?"

Minho calls over the waiter and places your orders. The food is quick to arrive and Minho starts to grill up the meat, while you cut the Kimchi into smaller pieces.

"Here," he puts the perfectly cooked rib onto your plate first and you smile at him, "Thank you."

"Eat up, don’t wait for me," he tells you and you nod, tasting the flavorful meat.

"Wow this is really good," you compliment and he smirks proudly at your words, "I know."

Minho places four other ribs for you, without eating one himself. You start to feel bad, so you grab his chopsticks, pick up the meat, and move it toward his mouth, "Open up."

"What?" He asks confused and you wave the food in front of his face, "Come on, you haven’t eaten anything."

Minho parts his lips slowly, and you feed the tender meat to him, before eating one yourself. You notice how his cheeks are slightly tinted pink now, and you account it to the intense heat of the grill.

"Oh, let's not talk about studies, my brain can't take another debate with you," you tell Minho in between bites and he grins at you, a gleam of excitement in his eyes. "If you were to dispose of a body, how would you do it?"

"I think our next celebration will be in an asylum." you smile too sweetly at him and he stares at you pointedly, "Please, I know you've already thought about it."

"Fine. Probably in a deserted land. What about you?"

"I'd cut their bodies and then bury each part in a different forest. In a different city."

His answer came too quickly, and you pause in your tracks, "Should I be worried?"

"You are too cute to kill." His tone is sarcastic and you make a show of gushing at his compliment, clasping both of your hands in front of your heart, "Growing soft on me, Minho?"

"Yeah, I’m basically sooo in love with you," he replies with a smirk and you roll your eyes at him, an amused smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

"What's your favorite color?" you finally ask, changing the subject.

"Purple."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"You'll buy me purple flowers?" He coos at you and you shake your head as you grab the utensil from his hand, to grill the meat your turn.

"No. I'll paint your tombstone purple," you grin and he laughs loudly, eyes squinted close, and you can't find it in you to care that the people next to you are staring.

"What's yours?" he asks when he calms down and you shrug, "Navy blue, I think."

"You do remind me of navy blue."

"And why is that?"

"When you look at it, at first glance, it looks like black. But the more you stare at it, the more layers you uncover. Just like you. There’s more to you than what meets the eye."

You grab your glass of water, gulping it down to hide the way your eyes just glossed over. You suddenly felt bare in front of Minho. How did he know?

You clear your throat, racking your brain for a way to move on from that question. "If you were to describe colors to a blind person, how would you do it?"

"Mm," he looks up at the ceiling as he mulls over your question, "I’d say that yellow is the feeling of eating ice cream on a sunny day, in an amusement park. Your fingers are sticky but your cheeks ache from how much you smiled that day."

"Yellow is carefree and happy."

"Exact. Now your turn, red."

"I’d say that... Red is the thrill that rushes through your veins when you do something you are passionate about, you know? It’s what makes our blood boil and our heart race. The very essence of our humanity."

Minho smiles softly at your words, seemingly agreeing with your description. "Don’t you think it would be easier if we simply asked, what color are you feeling today, instead of a 'How are you'?" He questions and you tilt your head to the side, "What do you mean?"

"Well, you could say, I feel like that moss green that no one seems to pay attention to. Or, I feel bright yellow as if the world's energy is stored inside me."

"And right now, how do you feel?"

"I feel orange, not the ugly orange." He precises and you chuckle, "the orange that paints the sky when the sun is about to dip into the ocean."

"A bittersweet orange, an ending that instantly strings along a new beginning. And you don't have time to rest."

Minho places his chin on his palm, eyeing you curiously, "Is that what you want? To rest?"

"Yeah." You admit quietly, "Don't you sometimes wish that the world would just stop, for a few seconds? Just like in a song, right before the beat drops. That silence, I wish I could live inside of it."

"I do too."

You both hold each other’s gaze for a while after that. You felt as if he was keeping you captive with his brown eyes, and he was slowly peeling each of your layers, in silence, as you were peeling his. For the first time, you think that you and he are similar, more than on a studies level. There was a part of his soul that understood yours perfectly. And it felt good, to be understood, for once.

"If you lived in this silence, what would you be doing?" he asks, breaking the serene quiet that surrounded you.

"I’d open a café that had books. And there'd be a little space, where people could paint. Or do pottery. And I’d have cats in there too." You reply excitedly, hands moving around in the air, you end up missing the way Minho gazes fondly at you before his smile morphs into a smirk.

"Please tell me you won't be cooking."

"Shut up. What about you?"

"I’d be a dancer."

"You dance?!" you whisper-shout and he frowns at the surprised look on your face.

"Yeah. Why are you looking at me like this?"

"I just never expected it. Can I-"

"No." he cuts you off immediately and you pout.

"I didn't even finish."

"I knew what you were going to say."

"Please, I won't make a sound I’d just watch. Pinky promise.” He grabs your now outstretched pinky with the tip of his index and thumb, lowering it down.

"I’d only grant you this wish when you’re on your deathbed."

"Bold of you to assume you'd still be around."

"Death might be around the corner."

"Stop it."

"Close your door tonight."

"You are deranged."

Minho chuckles at the crestfallen look on your face, "I’ll think about it."

Just like that, three hours of talking have gone by, the conversation flowing easily between the two of you. And when you finally leave the restaurant, Minho grabs you a cab and you wave him off with a smile. You couldn't lie to yourself, you had a really good time with him. You liked to think that Minho was no longer just a rival, but a possible friend.

But now that you were laying in your bed, you couldn’t help but curse Minho in your brain. His repetitive talk about murder made you paranoid, and now every creak in your apartment made you feel as if death was really right around the corner.

You decide to text him, figuring that if you couldn’t sleep because of him, you could at least disturb him for a bit.

Yn : I hate you I'm paranoid from your murder talk

Minho : Poor baby

Yn : Is that you at my door?

Suddenly your phone rings, the shrill sound echoing around your apartment. It was a Facetime call from Minho. You panic for a few seconds, before remembering that you just spent your entire night with him. A call can’t be more daunting than a real-life meeting.

"See, I’m in my home," he tells you as soon as you pick up and you laugh.

"It's pitch black, I can't see."

"Just say you miss my face." You can’t see him but you can clearly hear the proud grin in his voice.

"What's there to miss?"

"Are you actually scared?" Minho asks gently and you clear your throat, feeling ridiculous all of the sudden.

"There is a tree right outside my window and it keeps rustling from the wind," you grumble and Minho laughs at you.

"Trees can't hurt you."

"No shit Sherlock."

"Close your eyes.” He instructs and you frown at his words.

"Why?"

"I’ll tell you a story."

"Fine.” You close your eyes tentatively. It’s quiet for a few seconds and you feel yourself relax slightly.

"So, I bought a sous-vide machine and-"

"Is your bedtime story going to be about meat?"

"Yes?” He replies as if it’s an evidence, “Now be quiet." You pretend to zip your mouth and Minho faintly giggles, before resuming his story. "So, I was saying. I bought one and I wanted to experience different kinds of meats. So, I bought a 30-day aged one and a 58-day aged one and I cooked them both."

"What did you use?" you ask quietly.

"Just garlic, and thyme, I didn't want to overpower the taste of meat. Anyways I cooked them, but I didn't have plastic bags so I had to go out and buy them."

"Mm," you hum in acknowledgment. You could feel your nerves slowly dissipate with Minho's every word. His story might be ridiculous but his honey-coated voice compensated for it, wrapping around you like a protective cocoon.

"And I found pudding there so I had to buy it."

"Obviously," you whisper. Sleep was knocking on your door, but paradoxically you tried to fight it off. You wanted to hear the rest of Minho’s story.

"And I went back home and I cooked it, then I plated it nicely with vegetables that I sauteed with butter and garlic. Just mushrooms and potatoes, nothing too fancy. Again, my main focus was the meat. But there wasn't a difference between the two. They tasted the same for me, for some reason. And I didn't like this because the aged one was very expensive. Maybe I was scammed. Honestly, that butcher looked kind of suspicio..."

Your quiet snores make Minho pause in his tracks, and he laughs quietly. You did end up falling asleep. He can't see your face clearly, but he can see its outline and he stares at you for a while. You look peaceful.

He goes to hang up but his finger hovers over the 'end call' button. You aren't talking, but your hums are quiet enough that they fill up the space around him. It calms him down, and he lets his head fall on the pillow, his phone lying beside him.

He closes his eyes, thinking that maybe he just found the silence you talked about earlier on.

You just made his world stop.

✹✹✹

The second semester had just started and with it the return of frat parties. You were excited at the prospect of going to one with your new friend Mina. You met her in the library when you both went to grab the same book. You quickly apologized but she waved you off, handing you the book with a huge smile on her face. She was bubbly, like a human serotonin boost, and she started gushing about how much she loved the author. You saw her again in the campus cafeteria, and she skipped towards you as if you've both known each other your entire life. That was the start of your friendship.

You walk into the frat house, both your arms encircling each other. The flashing lights of the party blind you for a moment, and it takes you a while to adjust to the loud music bouncing off of the walls. But you like it, it was like a shield from the outside world and its problems.

You feel yourself letting loose in the crowd, swaying your hips to the music. Mina spins you around and you laugh, dancing with no care in the world. It was just the both of you in that instant.

Mina spots Jeongin in the crowd, a friend of hers that she had an immense crush on. You couldn’t blame her- he was very attractive; his easy smirk and his blonde tousled hair earned him lots of appreciative looks from the people around him. But when his eyes locked with Mina’s, you found that his face morphed into a beautiful smile, that made his dimples look on full display, as if it was only reserved for her.

“Go get your man!” You shout in her ears, so she’d be able to hear you.

“What are you talking about?” She yells back, but you could see the nervous smile on her face.

“He likes you! Go talk to him!”

“I don’t want to leave you alone. We came together!” She clasps your hand in hers and you smile touched by her kind spirit.

“I’ll be fine. I’ll go to the kitchen to get some drinks. Go have fun!”

“You are sure?” She asks, her eyes darting between you and Jeongin, who was still looking at her, and her only.

“Yes! Go!” You say, gently pushing her away. Mina jogs up to Jeongin who greets her with a side hug. He quickly glances at you and you shoot him a thumbs-up, to which he grins. You loved playing Cupid.

With that, you decide to head to the kitchen to grab a drink. You pick a beer from the fridge, double-checking if the can is closed before opening it.

You lean on the countertop, sipping on your drink while you watch the crowd, humming along each time a song you knew played. You enjoyed watching people dance freely from afar, with no apparent care in the world.

You feel someone stand next to you and you brace yourself, getting ready to tell the person off if they decide to bother you. You didn’t have the energy for mindless flirting. But then, you smell the cologne that has lingered around you for the past term- Minho. You haven't seen him since your dinner. That was a month ago.

"Fancy seeing you here," he greets as he leans on the counter right next to you, his eyes fixated on the mingling bodies.

You turn around to face him, faking an outraged gasp, "Are you following me?"

"Mmm. You look nice", he compliments and you smile cheekily, "I know."

"Won't tell me I look nice too?" he smirks, leaning closer to your face. "Someone didn’t get enough compliments tonight?" You pout, placing a hand on your heart in mock concern.

"I did, but I want to hear it from you. You’re the only sensible person in this room."

"You look nice. Now leave me alone."

"Come on, I know you can do better than that", he jokes and you roll your eyes, muttering “You’re annoying”, under your breath.

Still, you comply, placing your arms on top of the counter and leaning your head on them to get a better look at him. He does the same, smiling, and you both stare at each other for a while after that.

The strobing lights dance on Minho’s face, casting enticing shadows on him. You've always known he was a beautiful man; you've looked into his eyes far too many times in your heated conversations. But this time was different, there was no cheeky smirk on his face nor a furrow in his eyebrows. He was simply looking at you, and it made a pool of warmth huddle in your belly. You feel yourself relax under his gaze, everything around you seemingly melts away.

You weren’t wrong when you thought that his eyes were like a black hole, pulling you in. But this time, you realize that you didn’t mind knowing what was on the other side. On the contrary, you longed for it.

"I like your eyes right now. They remind me of the night sky. Black, with tiny little stars littered in them," you finally say.

Minho is taken aback by your words, he wasn't expecting you to compliment him, let alone to tell him something so special. He can feel his cheeks burn red at your words, feel his heart hammering in his chest. He's afraid you can hear it too.

He doesn't know what to say, so instead he clears his throat, plastering a smirk on his face, "I heard better." He hasn't. This is the first genuine compliment he's ever gotten.

"Oh, fuck off," you laugh and he joins you. The music was loud and yet the only sound his ear seemed to pick up was your laugh.

"Are you here alone?" He asks, and you shake your head no, "Came with my friend Mina."

"Did she leave you by yourself?" He frowns and you feel yourself warm up at his worried tone. "I told her to go talk to Jeongin."

"Next time, don’t stay alone."

“Fine, Dad.” You chastise and he stares pointedly at you, "I’m serious, yn."

You take another swing of the beer before turning your body fully towards Minho. After a few beats of silence, you finally ask a question that has been on your mind for a while. "Why do you say my name this way?"

"What way?" He questions and you shrug, "Slowly. People used to always rush it but you don’t."

"Well, it’s a pretty name. It deserves to be pronounced as a whole."

You beam at his words; you smile so brightly it makes his heart skip a beat. This is the first time you’ve grinned this widely at him, no hand in front of your mouth as if to hide it. He did notice how you were a reserved person outside of class, as if you were afraid of taking up too much place. But he could tell you were slowly unraveling, growing bolder with each passing month. He wanted to tell you that if people like you spoke more, the world would be a far better place.

But he couldn't bring himself to say all of this, so he forced those bubbling words down his throat. "I’m hungry," he whines instead and you laugh at his pout. "I'm kind of craving a greasy pizza."

"Should we go buy it? You can tell Mina to come so we can walk her back."

"I’ll ask her."

You shoot Mina a text, asking her where she was and telling her about your plan. She replies that she’s with Jeongin who just offered to take her home, so you could leave without her.

"We can go." You tell him and he nods. Minho shrugs his leather jacket off, gently placing it on your shoulders. His warmth engulfs you and you sink further into it. His arm hovers around your shoulder not touching you as he leads you out of the party. He has never touched your body, you note, it's like he was everywhere and nowhere at once.

You both walk to an open parlor near the frat house, and you order a Margarita pizza to share. You sit down on a nearby bench to eat it- the night breeze too liberating to pass up on.

As you both finish eating, a cat with white and orange stripes all over her body approaches the both of you cautiously, and you pat her head softly. "Aren't you the cutest thing ever?" you coo and Minho chuckles as he scratches the cat’s chin. She purrs at his touch appreciatively, and you smile at the soft look on his face.

"Never knew you to be this gentle", you giggle and Minho shushes you, "Let's not do this in front of the cat."

"Why are you acting as if we are a divorced couple and she’s our child."

"Easy, yn. You make it sound as if you want me to marry you."

"Now you're just projecting," you chastise and he laughs, eliciting giggles from you. He had a melodic laugh, you noticed, and you always felt a surge of pride whenever you made him close his eyes and tip his head from laughter. You felt as if it's a sight only you can see.

"I have three cats", he says softly and you gasp, "Really? We spent all of our Sundays in a cat café and this is when you tell me?"

"I only tell my friends."

"So we're friends now?" You gush and he rolls his eyes at you, "I take it back."

"What’s their names?" You ask curiously and his eyes soften at your question- you could easily tell he loved them dearly.

"Soongie, Doongie, and Dori. They are rescues."

"That’s very sweet of you Minho."

"Most of my scars come from them though," he chuckles but you sober up at his words, quietly scratching the cat's ears.

"What’s on your mind?" He asks and you glance at him. It was scary how well he’s starting to know you. But it was also nice; to be known is to exist, after all.

"I just... Sometimes I wish that memories would leave physical scars on you. Because at least then, you could treat them, put a band-aid on, and watch them fade away day by day. Because when the scars are emotional, you can’t treat them, you know? And someday someone brings up a name or a place, or you smell a certain scent, and suddenly they reopen as if no time has gone by at all.”

Minho stays silent for a while, mulling over your words. You don't mind, you weren't expecting him to comfort you. You just needed to free those words from the mental prison you've held them in for so long.

"Do you know Kintsugi?" he finally asks and you shake your head no.

"It's a Japanese art. They put back together broken vases with molten gold. It represents strength despite our flaws."

"That sounds nice," you sigh wistfully and he nods.

"It is. When you look at that vase, you know that it was once broken, but it doesn't take away from its beauty, on the contrary, it adds to it. Scars, whether they are emotional or physical are there for a reason. They remind us of how we pushed through whatever life threw at us."

"Am I supposed to be grateful I survived this?" You chuckle lowly, as your hand scratches the cat’s ear. Your fingers brush against Minho’s and you hesitate for a few seconds before moving them away.

"I wouldn't say grateful for what you went through," he speaks once again, "but grateful to yourself. At the end of the day, the reason why you're still here is you. You put yourself back together," he then bumps his elbow into your side softly, "and hey, even if your scars reopen there will come a time when they wouldn’t anymore. Sometimes, it takes a while to be okay again."

This was Minho’s way of telling you that someday it wouldn’t hurt anymore. That someday you’d be okay. And you needed to hear that. You needed to hear someone else other than yourself tell you that.

"Thank you, Minho, I needed that", you smile at him and he grins back at you before his smile turns to a smirk. "I charge 15 dollars for the hour by the way."

"Oh, come on! You didn't even say something revolutionary." You are lying. Minho's words will echo in your mind long after this night- a beacon of light to hold onto.

"Oh, so now it’s no longer ‘I needed that’. Tsk," he jokes a smirk still plastered on his face.

"Okay, Mr. Therapist. I’ll pay for your coffee tomorrow, sounds good?"

"I should have you as my client more often," he winks and you laugh, head tipped back. You were grateful more than ever for his teasing, loving how it wasn’t awkward between you after your discussion.

"You are a good listener." You tell him as you stand up, dusting your pants.

"I’m good at everything," he grins cheekily at you and you roll your eyes playfully, "And here I thought we were having a moment."

You both start walking side by side toward your home when Minho speaks again. His tone is quiet as if he wasn’t sure he wanted you to hear him. "About earlier, your compliment, I mean. I suppose I didn't thank you. So, thank you," he scratches the tip of his ears and you shrug nonchalantly. "It's the truth. You might get on my ass but that doesn't change the fact you are a pretty man."

He doesn’t respond and you tug at the sleeve of his shirt playfully, "You won't tell me I’m pretty too?"

"But then I’d be lying."

"Asshole."

"Pretty," he replies without missing a beat.

You laugh loudly, hand tightly clutching your stomach and he joins you. There is a newfound lightness in your steps now. Unbeknownst to him, Minho just managed to lift a small weight off your shoulders, allowing you a brief moment of respite.

"This is me," you say when you arrive in front of your apartment block, "Thank you for walking me home."

"Of course. Don't dream of me."

"Idiot," you laugh waving him off and he does the same. "Oh, and text me when you get home safely!" you shout before heading inside.

For the second time this night, Minho is blushing profusely at your words. He sighs to himself, waiting patiently until a light turns on in your place to leave.

✹✹✹

It’s been two months since the start of the new term. You still went to Limbo, every Saturday with Minho- even when you didn’t need to study.

Sometimes you’d just grab a book and you’d both read, a cat lazily lounging at your feet. You started sitting at the same table too; you figured it was easier since one of you always pays for the other. When you have a bet, but also randomly, when you notice that the other person is feeling down and you want to cheer them up without saying anything.

That's why you bought three bubble teas for Minho in a row. He was quieter these days, you noticed. He didn’t talk to you nor did he retort back in class. It was the first time you’ve seen him this way. As if he was a simple shell of the person he usually is.

You were walking out of your Communications Strategies class, which Minho weirdly didn’t come to when you realized that it was pouring rain. You smile lightly to yourself, grateful since you thought about picking up an umbrella this morning.

As you walk through campus, everyone around you running to take shelter, you spot someone sitting on a bench, completely drenched from the rain. Their head is hung low and you frown to yourself. They would surely get a cold if they stay there.

But then the person raises their head and you quickly realize it's Minho. You jog up to him instinctively, standing in front of him and shielding him from the rain with your umbrella.

He looks up at you and you feel your heart clench. His eyes are void of emotion and he stares blankly at you. "Are you okay?" you ask and he blinks at your words, as if his brain hadn't yet registered that you were there.

"Yeah."

"You don't look like it", you tilt your head to the side and he looks down again. You have to strain to hear his next words, muffled by the rain and his mumbling, "I don't want to talk, yn."

You decide to put away your umbrella and sit down next to him on the bench. The rain falls rapidly on both of you, and you feel yourself grow cold from it.

"What are you doing?" He questions, turning to the side to look at you.

"Enjoying the rain. It is kind of stupid that we have umbrellas, right?"

"You'll catch a cold."

"I mean we always complain about the drought and then when it rains, we hide from it. But it's really beautiful."

"Stop, I don't want you to get sick."

"Well, neither do I. Let's go eat some soup. My treat."

"Yn, I don’t-"

"I thought you were smart enough to know I won't take no for an answer."

"But I-" you cut him off again. "Also, I’m doing this for me because when you order for two, they give you a lot of side dishes. Now come on."

You stand up and he looks doubtfully at you, before following suit. You open up the umbrella again and hold it over both of your heads. He has to huddle close to you, and your shoulders brush against each other. Once, twice. Not that you're keeping count. But your body is always hyper-aware of Minho’s proximity. You also notice how he silently moves from your right to your left, this way he's the one walking right next to the speeding cars. Your hold on the umbrella tightens. You were still not used to those small attentions of his.

You arrive in front of your apartment block and he hesitates. "Come up, I won't murder you I promise." You joke and he smiles lightly back at your words. Progress.

He enters your dorm and you can see him eying his surroundings. You know that if it was another time, he would have teased you about something- anything. But he stays quiet, and you find yourself missing the sound of his voice.

"Would you like to shower?" You offer and he nods, "Please."

You lead him to your bathroom and show him where the washing machine is. "Put your clothes in there for a quick wash and dry. You can shower meanwhile."

He nods again as you hand him a towel. "I'll be outside."

You quickly leave the bathroom to place the soup orders, and Minho discards his wet clothes, walking into your shower. The water is piping hot, and he leans his forehead on the cold tiles. He doesn’t move for the first ten minutes, too tired at the prospect of lifting his limbs.

Nothing particular happened. But he’d go through days when he’d quiet down because everything around him was too much. The feel of his clothes against his skin, and the sun streaming through his curtains. But it always passes. Minho was a realistic man and he knew that his emotions would regulate themselves. That’s why he didn’t like appearing vulnerable in front of other people.

But for some reason, he didn’t mind lowering his guard with you. He knew you wouldn’t judge.

He sighs, grabbing your cherry-scented shampoo and pouring it into his hands. He can clearly smell you now. The scent of your hair that always tickles his nose, whenever you are sitting close to him. Your body wash is next and he wonders if this is how your skin smells, like vanilla and jasmine, and something entirely you.

Forty minutes later, Minho finally steps out of the shower. His clothes are clean and he quickly puts them on. He dries his hair with the towel as he walks out of your bathroom towards the living room.

He finds you sitting on the ground, in front of a heater that looks close to giving up. He makes a mental note of giving you the one he has since he doesn't really use it. You changed out of your clothes too, and you are now wearing a pair of pajamas with little bunnies sewn into it. The sight almost manages to make him smile.

"Still cold?" you question when you notice him standing behind you, unmoving, and he shakes his head no.

"Good, the soup is here." You say cheerfully, pointing at the steaming bowls sitting on your table. Minho hums in reply and you stand up, grabbing the towel from his hands to place it on the drying rack.

You come back, a soft green blanket in your hands. You sit on the couch and pat the spot beside you. Minho sits next to you, and you lay the blanket on both of your laps, before handing him his soup.

You start the show you’ve been last watching, as you both eat in silence, your legs crisscrossed. You make some comments throughout the episodes. You figured that it was a safe territory, to talk about something as mundane as this. He didn't reply but you didn't mind. You weren't here to have a conversation with him. You just wanted to distract him.

You realize at that moment that Minho always looked so put together to you. But he had problems of his own too. That much was obvious. It made you feel closer to him, in a sense. You were both just trying to make it through the day.

Two hours later, you get up to grab a book, handing Minho the remote to put on a show of his own. You curl in a ball in the corner, reading where you left off last night.

"Can you... Can you read out loud?" Minho speaks for the first time in a while and you look at him. His eyes are closed, his head resting against your couch.

"Sure."

You start to read, and Minho further sinks into the couch. He feels at home here. Because the blanket is soft and the light is dim enough to not hurt his eyes. Or it could be that he smells like you, a scent so comforting he wants to bury himself in it. Or maybe it's your voice that floats through the air, slowly clouding Minho’s every sense. He feels as if he could see the words you were pronouncing dancing in front of his eyes. You enunciated each syllable clearly, making sure that no sound was forgotten.

As Minho gently drifted to sleep, he felt as if he was part of the words you read out loud. He felt as if you were treating him with the same care, making sure that he knew he wasn't invisible. At least not to you.

When you wake up the next morning, Minho is gone. And his place beside you on the couch is empty. He made you breakfast, scrambled eggs, and freshly pressed orange juice. And right next to it you find a note, "Thank you for reading to me."

✹✹✹

Minho didn't believe in having a lot of friends. He was content with the two people he had, Chan and Changbin. The latter was his high school friend, he skipped a year and ended up being in the same class as Minho. They didn't talk at first until the day Changbin dropped a book on Minho's foot. The brooding man started apologizing profusely, and that was the start of their friendship. They've kept in touch since.

Chan was his roommate at university. It's not that he particularly wanted to befriend him, but Chan was a social butterfly and he quickly managed to pull Minho into his friendly trap. He annoys Minho the most, but in an endearing way. And although Chan is older, Minho still strangely developed a soft spot for him.

And he supposes he has you too now. At first, you weren’t friends, rivals at most. He enjoyed reeling you up and having you frown at his words in your heated debates. He also liked talking to you, because your ideas were interesting and you always gave him a new fresh perceptive to see things.

That’s how he strictly saw you as, an intelligent human who he liked to debate with.

But then he started to look forward to meeting up with you at Limbo. He no longer minded the fact that you took his self-assigned table, from his high school days. And he laughed more freely with you, enjoying how you always had a witty retort sitting at the tip of your tongue.

That’s how he started to notice things that friends most definitely notice. How you have a charm bracelet you always fidget with whenever you are nervous. How you stray away from physical touch. How you scratch your eyebrow when you are deep in thought.

But also, how you seem to have an obsession with cherries. Your cherry pendant, your cherry-scented shampoo, and your cherry-tainted lips. A friend would most certainly think that your lips are like red wine-stained glass.

He remembers one of the many times when you were at Limbo, and he saw you reapply your lip tint, or so you called it. You caught him looking and he swiftly averted his gaze, but it wasn't quick enough. Suddenly you were in front of him, a tiny red bottle in hand.

"Let me apply it to you," you smiled and he pushed your head away with his pointer finger. "No."

"Please," you pouted and he couldn't help but find you adorable. You sometimes reminded him of a small kitten. But he didn’t dare to call you by that nickname.

"Never."

"If I score more than you in our environmental assignment then I will do it."

"Fine." he huffed so that you'd leave him alone.

Minho didn't study for that assignment. He blamed it on a headache, not that it's ever stopped him before. And two weeks later you were in front of him, eyebrows scrunched in concentration. You applied the lip tint gently on his plump lips, carefully tracing over his cupid bow.

Your face was mere inches away from his and he noticed how you were wearing a gloss today, for change. It was shimmering under the lights and he usually didn't like glittery things, but he couldn't take his eyes off your lips.

"All done!" you clapped excitedly, snapping him out of his haze. You then shove your phone camera into his face so he'd look at the results.

"You should be a model. Your face is perfectly sculpted," you comment nonchalantly, before sitting back in your seat.

“I know.” He replies confidently, but his hand kept fiddling with the tip of his now pink ears. He couldn't concentrate for the rest of the night.

You were his friend because he always worried if you were eating enough. That’s why he urged you to grab a bite in the convenience store near Limbo, whenever you finished up your studying late.

This was one of the many times you sat on the minuscule table outside, hot ramen bowls in front of the both of you. Minho huffed in annoyance between each bite, his bangs were getting longer, disturbing him when he leaned down to slurp his noodles.

“Here,” you stand up from your place, a hair tie in your hands.

“What are you doing?” He questions as you stand behind him. You don’t reply, silently grabbing his hair and putting it up in a tiny ponytail, this way it wouldn’t get in his eyes anymore.

“Voila,” you sit back down, resuming your eating. Minho was grateful for the dimly lit street because his entire face was burning up. Your fingers in his hair were gentle and he wondered how it would feel if you ran your fingers through it.

This was something friends think about, right?

"I’ll cut my hair tomorrow," he clears his throat. He didn't know why he told you. You certainly weren't interested in his hair endeavors.

"What?!" you yell, "Don't. Your hair is beautiful why would you cut it?"

"Because it's getting longer."

"But it suits you."

Minho also noticed how you always threw compliments his way. Not in a flirtatious way, but in a genuine one. He couldn't help but wonder what made you this way. Did you so freely give love to others because you knew how it felt to not receive it?

"I’ll still cut it."

Minho returned home; his hair still clipped back in a ponytail. Chan eyed him weirdly but he shut him off with a glare. The elastic remained at his bedside since.

He didn't cut his hair.

The moment Minho started to consider you a close friend, was when you invited him over to watch your show. You didn’t force him to open up that night, and he appreciated it, more than he let on.

That's how a week later, he finds himself walking towards your dorm again. The thoughts in his head got too much, and Chan was immersed in his makeshift studio, which meant he won't be free for the next four hours, minimum.

He didn't plan on going to you. It was late at night and you were probably asleep, but his feet naturally led him to the direction of your place.

He knocks softly on your door. He wasn't even sure if he wanted you to open. What would you think of him showing up at eleven pm? He should have thought this thro-

"Minho?" you call out, and he startles a bit, his feet already inching away from the door.

"This was a bad idea, I'm sorry," he starts to retract back but you grab the hem of his jacket to stop him. "Do you... Do you want to watch my show with me?" you ask, a soft smile on your face and he nods tentatively.

"Okay, come in," you open the door wider and Minho follows you inside. The look in his eyes reminds you of the day you found him sitting under the rain. You didn't like it, you wanted him to find his spark back, his usual demeanor. He wasn't deserving of anything but happiness.

"I’ve started a new show, this one's a bit more romantic, so don't go around imagining me as the main character," you tease and he scoffs at your words, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

He doesn't reply, but you don't mind. There was this secret agreement between the two of you, you would talk and he would listen. He needed the distraction, and you needed the company. Sometimes the line between alone and lonely blurs, and on days like these, Minho’s presence fills the void inside.

You comment on the scenes and Minho hums in reply, you watch three episodes in a row, and your eyes are getting drowsy, so you close them.

"Minho," you call out gently and he turns his head towards you.

"Yeah?"

"What color are you feeling tonight?" You ask, referencing to what he told you on your dinner celebration. That felt like an eternity ago.

"Black." You stay silent and Minho fidgets with his hands before speaking once again. "I feel a lot at the same time, too much of every color. That's why- that's why I said black."

"How can I help you feel yellow?"

"You already do." His admission came softly and it made your breath hitch in your throat. You wanted to open your eyes and look at him, but you figured it will only make him close off even more.

“Okay. Will you stay for breakfast?”, you whisper. You were very sleepy, the soft chatter of the TV and your hushed conversation were like a lullaby to you.

"You want me to?" he asks, and he sounds so vulnerable you can't find it in you to say anything but the truth.

"I do," you admit, and that's the last thing you remember before sleeping.

Your head falls near Minho’s lap on the couch, your hair tickling his exposed thigh. Minho shouldn’t feel this way, he thinks. He’s sitting on the leather couch and his feet are touching the cold floor and yet all he can feel is three strands of your hair tickling him.

He glances at you, at your now parted lips and your relaxed eyebrows. His hand hovers over your hair, but then he curls it into a tight fist. What is he doing? He thinks to himself as he drags an angry hand through his face. He sighs, before standing up and grabbing the blanket you had on the opposing chair. He gently lays it on your body before sitting next to you once again.

You told him to stay for breakfast. He’ll stay.

✹✹✹

2 months later

"Yn!" Minho shouts in your ear as he plops down next to you. You startle, dropping the book you were reading.

"I hate you," you grumble, picking up your book and he smiles cheekily at you, "No you don't."

You were laying on the grass of your campus garden, in between two classes, trying to kill the time. It was April so the weather was perfect for lying under the warm sunrays. You loved spring, it always held within it the promise of a better time.

"What are you doing?"

"I was reading before you got here and started to annoy me."

"Don't mind me. Do your thing."

"And what are you doing?"

"Enjoying the sun."

"You couldn't find any other place to do so?"

"Nope."

"You're annoying" You try to sound mad but the smile on your face betrays you. You started looking forward to any moment Minho randomly shows up throughout your day. Sometimes it's late at night when he's suddenly craving sushi and he drags you with him because if he's not studying then you shouldn't be too.

Sometimes it's during the day, when he takes you to a new garden where he found the quote "cutest cats in existence". Not as cute as his cats, of course.

Sometimes it's late afternoon when he just knocks on your door, and he's there with Chan-his roommate who sometimes joins your study sessions- snacks in their hands. You've learned that what Minho doesn't say in words, he compensates by spending time with you. And you didn't tell him but waiting for these moments has been the joy of your life for the past few weeks.

It made you feel excited- like a child waiting up for Christmas morning to discover what gifts they are receiving.

So, you resume reading, as Minho is lying next to you. You could smell his pinewood cologne and you wished you could pour his essence into a bottle and carry it with you everywhere.

You notice how the sun is hitting Minho’s eyes directly, and how his eyebrows are scrunched up at the aggression. So, you grab your book with your left hand, and hover your right one over his eyes, shielding him from the sun. Minho's breath tickles your hand and you can feel goosebumps rising through your skin.

It's as if every physical proximity with Minho made you feel hyperaware of every part of your body, and how he can lighten it with a simple breath from his part. It made you wonder what it would feel to have his hands on your skin.

As if Minho heard your thoughts, he gently wraps his thumb and index finger around your wrist, steadying your hand in place so it wouldn't strain your arm. You suddenly don't know what page you are in, too overwhelmed by the feeling of his hands on you.

His touch is very featherlight and you are afraid to move, to break the bubble you are suddenly pulled into.

"Read to me," he tells you and you gulp. You never understood why Minho enjoyed it when you read to him.

"Like my voice that much?" you tease, in an attempt to hide how affected you are. You were so close to him; it would be easy to slide down and lay your head on his chest. You wondered how his heartbeat would sound. Was it steady, or racing just like your own?

"Yeah, it's calming," he replies sincerely, catching you off guard. You didn't expect him to compliment you, and now you are racking your brain for a retort, anything to make you breathe again.

"Growing soft on me Minho?" you say, the same question you asked on your first dinner out. The first time you truly saw him, the first time you felt as if you were two pieces of the same puzzle, just waiting for someone to connect the both of you.

He doesn't reply. And you sit there, patiently waiting. His first answer came so easily, so naturally, because he was being sarcastic, "I’m basically in love with you", he told you back then. So why can't he say it again?

"Yes, I am." He finally replies and you feel your breath catch in your throat. You try to account it for your brain misguiding you. It wasn't Minho speaking, it was the rustling of the leaves and the singing of the birds that you just heard. But it was him, and now his eyes are open and he's looking at you. Your hand is still shielding his eyes and his fingers are still wrapped around your wrist. And you are suddenly feeling. You are feeling too much. You don't know what to do with those feelings cursing through your veins and you can't face them. Because they are scaring you.

"I'll just... Yeah, I’ll just read," you say quietly, too flustered by his intense gaze. You were already on the other side, you realize. His eyes pulled you in and you were stuck in there, swimming in a pool of honey.

"Out loud," he says and you chuckle, "Fine, Min." The nickname slips out of your tongue naturally and you quickly snap your head towards Minho to see if he noticed.

His eyes are closed, and there is a slight smile on his face, and you can swear that he just repeated the nickname to himself softly.

✹✹✹

You've been so sick these past days, you barely managed to go to class. Your head throbbed with pain and your entire body felt as if someone thoroughly boxed it.

You were grateful that Minho reeled down his teasing because you had no energy to retort back. He may have noticed how sick you felt and truthfully it would be hard not to. You stayed silent throughout the day, and you looked so pale, you avoided looking at the mirror altogether.

Though Minho didn't talk to you, he still silently placed water bottles and some of your favorite snacks on your desk. You'd down the water, grateful for the relief it brought your sore throat. And when you didn't touch the food, he'd immediately text you 'Eat up', followed by a simple 'Please'. Having someone else care for your well-being felt weird, but it warmed your heart beyond what words could describe.

You only came today to pass your Criminal Law mid-term, but your head hurt so badly that you weren't even sure what you wrote on your paper. The words blurred in front of your eyes and you almost slept in the middle of your exam, exhaustion threatening to take over your body.

You fucked up, badly. You haven't screwed up this much in years.

You thought that you were slowly getting better since Minho surpassing you no longer sparked an unworthy feeling within you. But apparently, you were wrong to believe so. Self-doubt crept up within you once again, and the ugly feelings it stirred slowly clawed at your throat, making it hard for you to breathe.

It was one test, and yet it reeled you back ages ago.

Tears threaten to spill out of your eyes as you hurriedly walk out of your class. You make a beeline for the library, figuring that it will be mostly empty by now.

You pull out a chair and sit on it, lowering your head down so no one will see you. Your tears are falling rapidly and you hit your thigh repeatedly. You hated how weak you felt in that instant.

"Yn?", someone calls out and you curse internally. You don't have to look up to see who it is, Minho's voice has become a part of you- you could easily recognize it between a thousand mingling sounds.

You don't want him to see you, especially not like this, weak and vulnerable and on the verge of breaking down. So you quickly slip a pair of sunglasses on your eyes, before raising your head to look at him. "Hm?"

"Are you okay?" he asks, his tone so soft it makes you want to cry ten times fold. You hated it, hated how attentive he was to you. You didn't deserve it.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm just here to pick a book," you lie, abruptly standing up and heading toward the rows behind you. You desperately needed to get away from him.

You pause in front of a random shelf and then you feel Minho standing behind you. You grab a random book and he peeks above your shoulder to see it, "Economics? You hate this subject."

"Why are you following me?" you turn around attempting your best to sound mad. When in reality, your heart was brimming with hurt. You wished you could get away from your body and seep into someone's soul to feel what it's like to love yourself.

"You aren't okay," he asserts and you hate it. You hate that he sounds so sure of himself. Was it that noticeable? Were you not fooling anyone?

"I am," your voice is shaking but you are adamant about contradicting him. You couldn't let him see you. What if he runs?

"Then..." he steps forward and you take a step back until your back is against the shelf. His left arm cages your body, but his right one stays by his side. He is leaving you an opening, you realize, an outing in case you feel uncomfortable. Against all odds, you don't.

"Why are you hiding from me?" he asks, gently taking your sunglasses off your face, and placing them on the top of your head.

You don't look up at him, and he hooks his finger underneath your chin, gently raising your head. When your tear-stained eyes meet his, he frowns deeply, "Why are you crying?"

"it's nothing."

"Yn..."

"I fucked up, okay?! That was the worst test I’ve ever given in years." The tears start to flow at your words and you wipe them away aggressively. You despised crying in front of people.

Minho raises his hand to wipe the tears away for you but he quickly retracts it- you probably wouldn't want him to touch your face. It was enough that he had grabbed your wrist a couple of weeks before this. He quickly racks his brain for something to do, because the sight of your tears is making his heart ache in a way he hasn't felt before. It's as if he's feeling your emotions deep within him.

In desperation, Minho pinches your arm and you yelp, startled. "What was that for?" you whisper-shout and he raises his hands in defense, "I didn't know what else to do."

"So, you thought about pinching me?" you chuckle in bewilderment and he scratches the top of his hair sheepishly.

"I mean, it worked. Look, you stopped crying," he points out raising his brows at you proudly and you shake your head at him.

"Remind me to never cry in front of you again."

Minho grins at you before his face turns serious once again. "Look, you are the smartest person I know," he pauses, adding with a cheeky smirk, "After me of course." Which makes you giggle against your will.

"Shut up", you lightly punch his chest and he smiles. "One test doesn't define you. You always work very hard. I wouldn't lie to you."

"Mm," you hum and he frowns at your lack of enthusiasm, but still, he doesn't comment.

"No more crying," he wiggles his finger in front of your face and you roll your eyes, wiping the rest of your tears away. "Fine. Pretend as if this never happened."

"What are you talking about?" he asks as if confused, and you can't help the smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. It's as if Minho knows exactly what to say to cheer you up.

"Come with me," he tells you, gently pulling you by the sleeve of your hoodie.

"Where to?"

"I’m craving ice cream."

"And why do you need me?"

"You're craving ice cream too," he says in a matter-of-a-fact tone.

"Only if you're paying," you add with a giggle and he whines loudly, "I feel so so used around you."

True to his words, Minho takes you to the nearest ice cream parlor. It's a 20 minutes walk away and you are grateful for the distance because it helps you clear your head a bit.

Minho lets you pick whatever flavors you want, and when you hesitate between two of them, he tells the cashier to put them both into your cup. This is how you end up with a container of 5 scoops of ice cream. You insisted you'd share, and Minho begrudgingly agreed when you threatened to walk out and leave him.

You then walk to a deserted alley and sit on the sidewalk. You didn't want to be around people right now, and thankfully, Minho understood without you having to say a word.

You munch silently on your ice cream and Minho does the same, the both of you lost in your thoughts. You naturally take turns holding the freezing container, so it wouldn't numb the fingers of one of you.

When you're done, Minho stands up to throw it away in a nearby trashcan before sitting back again next to you.

Suddenly you feel him gently tapping your hand. You look down to find that you've curled your fingers into a tight fist, so much that there are crescent indents visible on your palm now.

"Let's play thumb war," he tells you and you giggle at his words. You never knew what to expect from him.

Still, as your fingers hold each other, and your thumb circles one another, you feel yourself calm down slightly. You play a couple of rounds, and you know he's going easy on you, allowing you to quickly trap his thumb down.

No one has gone to such lengths to cheer you up, and you suddenly feel so grateful for Minho’s presence in your life. You didn't care in what shape he was in, you just needed him to be in it. Which in turn makes you think how bad it'd hurt if he ever leaves.

You don't want Minho to leave. You've gotten so attached to him that the thought of not talking to him again makes your heart race in panic.

Minho notices the change in your expression, suddenly melancholic once again. Your hand has gone limp in his, the thumb war long forgotten by you.

He curses under his breath, before looking at you. "If I dance for you, will you quit being so sad?"

"Dance for me?" you repeat incredulously and he nods, "Yes. I’ll show you an upcoming choreography just... Please smile?"

"Okay," you giggle, plastering a wide grin on your face.

"Not like that you look scary."

"Get to dancing!" you clap excitedly and he rolls his eyes, standing up and looking through his phone for a particular music.

"Oh and no comment!" he looks pointedly at you, and you nod, pretending to zip your mouth and throwing away the key.

'Finesse' by Bruno Mars starts playing and you are left mesmerized by the way Minho dances. It's short but it leaves you yearning to see more. His body moves smoothly, hitting each beat effortlessly. He made it look as if dancing was second nature to him, that it came as easily to him as breathing.

You were speechless, rightfully so. You wished you could build a world where all Minho did was dance.

"That was-" you start when he stops the music but he cuts you off instantly, "I said no comment."

"But--" Minho places his finger on your mouth to silence you, seemingly not thinking too much of it. But the feel of his finger on your lips makes you dizzy. Minho quickly takes off his hand, a blush evidently creeping up his neck.

"Let's just go home," he sighs in defeat and you laugh despite the intense feelings cursing through you.

You don't know if you are imagining it but you swear that your pinkies brush against each other on your walk back. As if there was this magnetic force pulling them together. You wondered what would happen if you just linked your pinky with his. Would he grab you by the hand or will he let go of you entirely?

You were too much of a coward to find out. You were scared of messing up anything with him. So, you'd settle for this. Stolen glances and random outings. You just need him in your life.

"Thank you for today," you tell Minho once you arrive and he shrugs, as what he did wasn't a big deal.

"No, I mean it. Thank you," you repeat, trying your best to convey how sincere you were being. You take in a deep breath, before grabbing his hand and squeezing it, for a fleeting second, before dropping it again.

Minho is sure that your hand will now be imprinted into his, that the lines tracing over your palm will merge with his as one. Your touch was barely there but it had electrocuted him. He wondered to himself if his body would be able to handle more from you. But he'd gladly burn in your fires for the sake of holding you. And he'd wait, unwaveringly, as time stretches alongside the two of you. He'd wait as long as it takes for you.

"Yn, I..." he stammers, taking a step closer to you. His scent engulfs you and you shamefully close your eyes, inhaling it. When you open them again, you find Minho glancing down at your lips. You gulp, dazzled by his proximity.

"You have a mole on your nose," you suddenly speak up and his eyes snap back to yours, an adorable confusion drawn on his features.

"I like that mole," you continue and you wish you could dig yourself a hole and bury yourself in it.

"Thank you," he chuckles and you nod vigorously, "You're welcome."

"Can I ask you something?" he says and your breath hitches in your throat. "Sure."

"You don't like it when people touch you, right?"

"Yeah."

"Can I ask why?"

You want to confide in him, to tell him that it’s because you long for it, you crave it so badly. That this need has woven itself into the very fabric of your being. An ache so raw that it scares you at times. You’ve never known what it feels like to be held- it was uncharted territory to you.

"Isn't everyone scared of the unknown?" you settle on saying, and he nods in understanding. Of course, he understood. No one knows you as well as him.

"It's okay. I just wanted to know if I ever overstepped my boundaries."

"You didn't," you reply instantly.

"Good. You'll tell me if I ever do, right?"

"I will."

"Okay."

"Um. I'll get going," you point behind you and Minho smiles at you, waving you off.

You walk for a few steps before coming back again quickly. You then grab Minho’s hand, gently squeezing it like before, "You are an amazing dancer."

And then you drop it, running back towards your apartment block without waiting for a reply.

Minho stays frozen in his place. You think he's an amazing dancer. And you held his hand for five seconds.

That's four seconds more than the first time.

Progress.

✹✹✹

You haven't gotten out of your house for the past three days.

Everything crashed around you rapidly, it made you realize that the ground you once stood on was only an illusion, elusive and fleeting.

You were doing well; you were getting better. But then Monday came and you went out for a walk in the park near you. As you sat there, you saw a little girl playing on the swings, delightful joy dancing across her features. But then she fell to the ground and you instinctively stood up to help her, only to notice her mother running to her.

The world stilled around you as you clearly saw it- how the little girl clung to her mother's embrace, her embodiment of hope and love. You never had that. You don’t even know what perfume your mother used because she never allowed you to get that close to her.

You stood up abruptly, quickly heading back to your apartment block. As you ran up the stairs, you ended up bumping into one of your neighbors. You were quick to apologize but they ignored you, and the feeling of being invisible came back to haunt you ten times fold.

You knew you shouldn’t have done it, you knew you should have deleted your mother’s number when she sent you away to university without a backward glance, relieved at the thought of you getting a full-ride scholarship and not needing her anymore. But you didn’t, you kept her number in the hopes that she’d call. On your birthday, on holidays, on a random Thursday to tell you that she did remember who you are.

With trembling hands, tears welling in your eyes, you dialed your mother’s number for the first time in a year. You didn’t know what you were expecting. Maybe she regrets it. Maybe she misses you. Maybe she didn’t find the courage to mend her wrongdoings and that's why she never called.

"Hello?" her voice rang through your apartment. Goosebumps erupted on your arms and your hold on the phone tightened. Her voice took you back to memories you thought you had buried. How you spent countless nights yearning to hear the sound of her voice, how you regretted it once she spoke to attack you.

You hate her. You miss her. You want to hang up. You need to ask if she's doing okay.

“Who is this?” Her voice was devoid of recognition, freezing you in your tracks. You felt as if a bucket of ice was thrown over your head, dousing the flame of hope that flickered in your heart.

She deleted your number.

You quickly hung up, placing your phone down on the table. The tears refused to fall. It was as if your body had long anticipated this outcome, leaving only your wounded soul to bear the pain.

Healing isn't linear, you've read about it in books and heard it in shows and movies. One step back doesn't mean that your entire progress is gone. You know this, you've memorized those sentences. So why do you not believe them? Why does it feel as if you can never be free from the past? Why does it feel as if you’ll always seek something out of her?

Those questions roamed your mind for the past three days, making you too tired at the prospect of lifting your limbs, let alone leaving your apartment. You sent your two friends a text, telling them that you're sick so they wouldn't worry. Not that you believed they would. Nothing made sense to you anymore.

You laid on your bed in utter silence- a tense quiet that was disrupted on the third day by someone knocking on your door. You didn't know who was there; you just hoped that they'd leave you alone.

To your surprise, you open the door to find Minho, some notes in his right hand and a coffee in his left. He sends an easy smile your way. You don't smile back.

"What do you want?" your voice is cold, but Minho doesn't bristle. A cheeky smile settles on his lips as he leans on your doorway.

"You didn't come to class for the past three days, so I brought you the notes. So, you wouldn't think our competition is unfair."

"Competition," you chuckle coldly, heading inside your apartment, and he follows suit. You start to pace around furiously, and Minho looks at you worriedly. "Competition?" you repeat, the word dripping off your tongue like venom. You turn around, marching towards Minho and standing a few inches from him. "You know what? Fuck you and your competition!"

"Yn-"

"Did it ever occur to you that I never wanted a part in this competition? That all I wanted was to be left alone?" you say, growing louder as you jab your finger into his chest repeatedly. "I never wanted any of this! Do you understand? I never wanted to be this way," you shout angrily in his face.

The worried look in Minho’s eyes snaps you out of your haze. You realize that you are being utterly ridiculous lashing out at Minho, when the one person you are mad at is yourself.

Your anger quickly deflates, leaving in its trail an agonizing sadness. It's so sudden that it knocks the breath out of you, and you clutch your chest as if it could soothe the burn in your heart. Suddenly you are twelve years old again, crying in your room because you feel like no one has ever loved you.

But this time you aren't alone. Minho is in front of you, and his eyebrows are so furrowed you want to lean forward to ease the tension between them. His eyebrows, you liked his eyebrows, they were arched, and they framed his eyes nicely, and his eyes are brown and so big, and they always look at you softly and why is it getting so hard to breathe-

"Did I do something to you? Whatever it is I’m sorry," Minho panics, cutting off your frantic train of thought. But now, the weight of guilt adds to your overwhelming emotions. You shouldn't have lashed out at him, he brought you coffee and you yelled at him. Maybe your mom was right after all.

You shake your head left and right furiously, your words coming out in hiccups. Since when did you start crying? "It isn't- it isn't you."

"Then let me help you-", he steps forward, hand outstretched, but you take three hurried steps back and wrap your hands around yourself protectively. "Don’t. Please, don't."

"Why are you pushing me away?" his tone isn't accusatory. You've learned time and time again that Minho wouldn't do anything that made you feel uncomfortable.

"You won't understand."

"Then make me."

"Because I’m afraid!" the words slip out of your mouth before you can stop them. "I’m afraid if you ever hug me, I wouldn't be able to go back to hugging myself. I'd need you and I can't afford to need someone else."

You regret the words as soon as they fleet away from your mouth. He would look at you differently, he would find you pathetic and then he’d leave. And you wanted him to leave. But you also wanted him to stay. It was all so confusing.

You felt as if your being was torn between two great forces, each one of them trying to win the war raging inside you. You wished someone else would make the decisions in your place, for once.

Minho places the coffee and notes on the ground before approaching you, his palms facing up in a gesture of surrender. "I won't leave you," he says softly. "I’ll be by your side for as long as you'll have me."

"Minho..." your voice catches in your throat as you utter his name- like a broken prayer. He stands before you, his eyes shimmering like the reflection of a river on a sunny day.

"Please, let me make it better."

You nod tentatively and Minho comes even closer to you. He was treating you like one would with a wounded animal, giving you a chance to ultimately back out. But for once, you listen to what your heart has been yearning for. Your bones are aching to be held, to feel the warmth of a body against your own, to feel safe and secure.

Minho embraces you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and bringing you to him. You slowly bring your arms up and lace them around his waist. You are afraid, deathly afraid. His grip is loose, and you almost can't feel him around you, but when you lay your head on his chest, he tightens his hold on you and you instinctively let out a sob.

He's hugging adult you, the woman whose heart was once again broken by her mom. But he's also hugging little you, the girl who was craving affection from everyone around her. In that instant, Minho is hugging every single version of you that ever needed a hug.

You were right to be scared because you don't want to let go, you want to stay in his arms because they feel safe, like a shield protecting you. You can't go back to not hugging Minho.

The sensation is overwhelming and your knees buckle underneath you. But instead of holding you up, Minho falls to the ground with you, as if you are two inseparable pieces of one puzzle. He isn’t here to fix you, he’s here to break down with you and help you pick up the scattered pieces.

You think back to that night in the park when Minho told you about Japanese vases. At this moment, it dawns on you that Minho has found a way to become a part of you. He was the molten gold binding your broken parts together. He was the invisible thread stitching your wounds back together.

Who were you fooling? It was him; it was him all along.

Minho rocks you gently as you cry and cry and cry. His hand finds your hair and he plays with it as you sob. He tells you you'll be okay, you'll feel better and you try to believe him, his words wrap around your bruises like a healing balm.

"There, there, love. You are okay", he murmurs, tenderly patting your head. A fresh set of tears wells up in your eyes. Love.

"I’m sorry. I'm so sorry," you apologize as you pull away from his embrace.

"Why are you apologizing? Is it because you wet my shirt? I don't mind," he reassures you with a smile and you shake your head.

"I was mean to you and you didn’t deserve it," you explain through hiccups.

"It's okay, you weren't mad at me, were you?" he asks, wiping your tears away so gently with his thumbs, careful not to irritate the sensitive skin.

"No. Still, it isn't okay and I’m sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Shh, don't apologize. It's okay." you look at him doubtfully and he rolls his eyes playfully, "Here I’ll even do your silly pinky promise, okay?" he laces his pinky with yours, but then he suddenly leans forward and places a chaste kiss on your thumb pad. "There, sealed forever."

You giggle faintly as a blush dusts your cheeks, "That's not how it works."

"I know."

Your giggle was far different from the ones Minho was accustomed to. It was small, and it didn't brighten up your face like usual. But he was grateful for it nonetheless. He realized how much he missed your laugh, and how all the other sounds in the world pale in comparison to it.

In that moment Minho thinks to himself that he'd do anything to make you smile again. He'd make a fool out of himself if it meant making you happy. He'd settle for a simple tug at the corners of your mouth, anything but the sadness that seemed etched in your face, as if it was blended into the colors that drew you.

You tentatively move around, before laying your head on his lap. Minho's hand instinctively finds your hair and he starts to gently play with it. It feels as if you've done this a million times before, when in fact it was the first.

There was something wildly intimate about laying on the floor with the man who just comforted you. It made you want to spill all your secrets to him, one by one, and have him hug you through them.

"Did you mean it? When you said you'll stay?" you felt so vulnerable in his hold, as if he could twist you whoever he liked. But you trusted him. You trusted yourself with Minho.

"I did. Your walls are always up. It's hard to peek behind them. But I don't want to tear them down. I want you to slowly unbuild them. I want you to do it for yourself."

To do it for yourself, it's hard to even know who you are anymore.

"I want to tell you."

"You don't need to."

"I know, but I want to."

"Okay. Take your time, kitten." he pats your head gently, and you try to sync your breathing to the rhythm of his touch. You were grateful that you were lying on his lap since you couldn't see his face. It made talking feel a little less daunting.

"On my 9th birthday... I was very excited. I'd been on my best behavior that month, trying to please my mom in the hope that, for once, we'd celebrate my birthday. Like a normal little family," you smile sadly, you were so hopeful back then.

"My birthday came, I woke up, excited. My mom was still asleep, nothing out of the ordinary. So, I made my breakfast and walked to my school. I wore my prettiest dress and put on pigtails with hair clips. It was my birthday after all," Minho smiles softly at your words, his hand now resting on your own.

"I got back home and waited for my mom to come back. She remembered my birthday, I thought. And then, she came but she didn't talk to me. So, I thought, oh a surprise party!" you chuckle, but this time the smile on Minho’s face is gone.

"It was then 11 pm, and the hope had slowly died in me. So, in my stupid innocent self, I went to my mom, and asked her "Did you forget my birthday?". And I remember... I remember the way she laughed. Cruelly. Like I had told her the funniest joke in the world. And then. Then she looked me dead in the eye and said 'I hate the fact that you are born. Why would I celebrate that?'"

Minho sucks in a deep breath at your words, and you exhale one right out. It felt comforting, to have someone else stomach the hurt for you. To take the weight off your shoulders, allowing you a few moments to breathe.

"I confronted her about it one day, but she said she doesn't remember saying that. It's funny how it was a random Thursday for her, but for me, it shaped my life." you smile bitterly, "I remember how jealous I was of the way the other kids talked about their mothers. They said the word so lightly. It must have reminded them of sunshine and ice cream and rainbows. But for me, it held an uncharacteristic heaviness to it. I grew to hate the word."

"I drove myself crazy, Min", you whisper and he brings you closer to his body, "was it me or was it her? When did it start? Was it because I was too loud as a child or maybe too quiet? Did I not cater to her fantasies of a kid? I wanted to remember every single thing that happened throughout my childhood, thread through every single memory. I tried to pinpoint the exact moment my mom stopped loving me."

Minho squeezes your hand tightly in his, and you feel as if he was pulling you away from the memory that had long trapped you. You were now watching it unfold from outside of the window, your hand in his, safe from the hurt it had inflicted on you.

"It's not you. It could never be you. Some people are simply not fit to be parents. It's never their kid's fault."

Minho tries his best to keep his touch soothing, to make his voice sound as soft as possible. But he was angry, he was so angry at the world for not taking care of you when you were younger. His heart broke, thinking of 9-year-old you being told such cruel words.

He wanted to turn back time and tell you that you were enough. He wanted to make the pain that seemed so anchored in you float back to the surface, and dissipate like sea foam meeting the shore.

But he couldn't do that. All he could do is comfort present you.

Minho gently pulls you up from his lap, making you sit upright. He crisscrosses his legs and you do the same. Your knees brush against each other and you feel a shiver run down your spine. You didn't know that even knees could emanate such warmth.

"Yn, look at me. The world wouldn't be the same without you in it," he cradles your face between his hands, "You hear me yn? I’m so thankful you exist."

His doe brown eyes are sincere, and it made you want to believe him badly. That's a good start, right?

"I’ll be back," he tells you, letting go of your face and standing up.

You hear Minho rummaging through the kitchen and you take the time to calm yourself down. Sharing those parts of you with Minho felt therapeutic. As if you were healing parts of your inner child. You have never talked about this with anyone before, maybe this is why it still hurt as badly.

Minho comes back five minutes later, his hands behind his back. You raise a brow at him inquisitively and he just smiles secretly at you. "Close your eyes," he tells you and you giggle, doing as he says. He crouches in front of you, and you hear him shuffle in his place for a bit.

Then, "Open your eyes yn," and you find him, in front of you, a cupcake you had stored in your fridge in his hands, and a makeshift candle lit up. "Happy 9th birthday, love. You did well."

You stare at him in utter bewilderment. You couldn't believe your eyes. How could this man be so thoughtful? He was wishing you a belated birthday, to compensate for the 9th birthday you didn't celebrate.

You panic, at the look in his eyes. You've never seen it, never dared to dream of it, of someone caring for you unconditionally. So, you try to scare him, to push him away. You didn't want him to regret knowing you.

"There are things I need you to know um", you chuckle nervously, "When I... When I throw up, I hold my hair, and when I’m sick I nurse myself back to health, and when I have a nightmare I- I hold my hand in the dark. It will be hard for me to hold yours instead."

"We'll start a finger at a time, yeah?"

"It will take time."

"I have time," he speaks easily, as if loving you was effortless and not a strenuous task. You couldn't fathom it.

"You are too busy-", he cuts you off instantly, "Not for you."

"The world doesn't stop because we need it to." Your voice is quiet; this is your very last try. You are tired of fighting. You are putting down your armor and waving a white flag.

"We'll make it stop. Here, the two of us. On this floor. We'll take as long as we need to."

"I never deemed you as an optimist", you smile a little, a hint of teasing in your tone.

"I’m not," he pauses, gazing down at the cupcake between his hands and then at you. "But I feel that we deserve a bit of happiness together, don't we?"

"We do."

"Then make a wish."

You close your eyes for a few seconds, before blowing on the candle.

"What did you wish for?" he asks a fond smile on his face.

The answer came naturally to you, you didn't even need to think about it. "I wished for you."

Minho's lips come crashing down on yours, and you imagine that this is what it feels like to see colors for the first time. To discover a new world beyond the one you've always known.

The kiss isn't urgent nor feverish, it is one of comfort. Your lips spilling the words you have not yet said to each other. "I love you," he kisses you, "I love you too," you kiss him back. "I need you to stay," you swipe your tongue across his bottom lip, "I’m never leaving you," he opens his mouth allowing you entrance.

As you kiss him, you remember a fact you once learned in high school. The human body possesses seven trillion nerves. And for the first time in your life, you feel as if each of these nerves is alive. You feel that even the smallest atom is electrocuted with Minho’s love and it’s all you know within you.

You feel as if the pain, the hurt, and the ache you've been through are slowly unraveled, and in their place, a timid happiness is starting to bloom. You imagine that when Minho’s lips met your own, the seven trillion nerves inside you exhaled in relief 'We've made it', they said, 'we'll finally be okay.'

Epilogue

You've always thought that epilogues were useless. How can you resume the rest of your life in one sentence, boil down the rest of your existence in mere pages? Because life doesn't stop at the epilogue, and a new book can start once again, right where you left it off.

But with Minho, you didn't mind an epilogue. On the contrary, you longed for a soft one. You wanted to rest on this last page, you wanted to lay your worries on the words and tuck them into the syllables. And you wanted to wake up anew.

And this wasn't the end of your story with Minho. A lot happened after it. But it didn't worry you, because epilogues are about the one thing that doesn't change throughout the long march of time. And luckily for you, that constant was Minho’s love for you. From that day he held you, he has never let go.

It took time, for his warmth to seep through your bones. It took time, for your heart to forget the cold. But you wanted to do it. With him. You wanted to love and be loved.

The sound of cats mewling fills your apartment, pudding can always be found in your fridge and you haven't felt invisible in years.

6K notes · View notes

trashogram · 1 month

Text

He Chose You (Pt. 9)

Lucifer/Reader: Lucifer chooses you to be the mother of his child. Rated Explicit.

Warning: Character Death, and minor details of childbirth.

“You’re glowing!”

You’d scoffed while watching as your body literally began to illuminate from the inside out.

“Well of course.” You’d snickered, looking from your hands to Lucifer. “Every mother does.”

Your hand came up to clasp your mouth shut, but the Freudian slip was already out there. Lucifer stared at you and you stared back.

Your lips wobbled and torso trembled until you could no longer hold it in and burst into laughter. Elation ran its course, and Lucifer joined you — laughing so hard that he slapped his knee.

When you fell into his arms and let yourself be held, you imagined it would only be for a little while. This bizarro pregnancy had you on some kind of high, and all the worries and doubts that had been building up disappeared.

—

You can’t remember for how long you’ve been walking but there’s discomfort in the soles of your feet. The landscape changes as soon as you truly behold it.

The endless field of tall grass and the trees so tall they could touch the sky had been replaced by golden sand. You could feel its gentle heat on the ends of your toes. Beyond the sand is a gently rolling ocean, lilac beneath a honey gold sky as the sun has only just set. The sound of rhythmic, rushing water is so real and so close that you’re immediately calm.

Memories flood your mind like a sneaker wave. You’re a child again, running away from the water as it laps at you. The shock of the cold water goes away quickly and you want to follow the pebbles and seashells that drift back out with the retreating tide.

You look back, away from the sea, and see the blonde woman behind you. You grin.

She’s wistful.

It stamps down on your joy. The air is salty and wet blowing through your hair and inhaled through your nostrils. You want to speak, but you can’t think of a thing to say.

“I wish this was goodbye.” Her voice carries above the waves, muffling them until they’re nothing but a dull roar.

—

You awoke to the sensation of falling and seized in your bed. Lucifer startled beside you. He’d been sleeping wrapped around your belly; a compromise to laying perpendicular to you so that he could continue talking to the soccer-player in your stomach.

He or she had not stopped moving since they decided to make it known that they were, in fact, not dead.

(You’d chided the baby for that, and for doubling in size in less than two week’s time, much to Lou’s amazement:

“Hell isn’t ready to be ruled by two speed demons.” You’d deadpanned.)

“Huh?” He grabbed you without thought. “What—”

Movement erupted from deep down in your core, muscles clenching and unclenching quickly, forcing you to seize again.

“I think I’m — ugh!” You gritted your teeth. “—I’m going into labor.”

Lucifer doesn’t do anything for a long moment.

Then he flew into a panic before you could say ‘Jesus Christ!’.

—

The hallway outside illuminated with the sheer brilliance of your body, literally glowing. It hadn’t stopped since it started, only a few weeks ago. Fortunately, the glow was tied to an almost paralyzing euphoria. It was the kind of delight that turned your blood into gold while racing through your body. The kind that kept you from complaining that you’d become Tinkerbell.

“Steady. I’ve got you!” Lucifer assured whilst trudging over the carpet with you in his arms.

An influx of pain rippled through you for the first time, providing distraction from the mortification you might’ve felt in that position. It hasn’t escaped your notice that the Prince of Darkness was a shortstack. Your brain had a hard time accepting that for as small as he appeared, Lucifer was capable of unimaginable feats of strength and endurance.

So, you didn’t think about it. Instead you focused on breathing in and out deeply as your partner kicked at the front door of your neighbors’ apartment with the toe of his boot.

As if waiting at the door, Warren Farrow appeared from behind the polished wood. His expression was of minute surprise, but within seconds he was turning back and calling for his wife.

Lucifer managed to pivot the two of you into the Farrow home. Warren guided you with an unusual vigor in his step, as though he were a man decades younger.

“We’ve had it set up for weeks now, Sir.” Warren said gravely.

Through the convulsions, you observed the inlet that Lucifer had taken you into. It was like a roomy closet, covered in tapestries and littered with candles of all shapes and colors.

Warren’s wife was flitting about, quickly lighting the pitch-black surroundings until you could see the mere outline of things.

You were drawn to the center of the crowded room, where a humble white cot covered in white towels contrasted everything else.

It occurred to you then that this entire pregnancy had been a shit show, not the least bit because you’d never gone to any OB. You hadn’t checked in with any hospital, or stepped foot in one — how could you?

Therefore, any and all “check-ups” you’d had had come from your creepy neighbors with their tea and their scrutinizing questions and their buzzard-like stares.

You’d consoled yourself throughout with the brief, semi-serious talk with Mrs. Farrow three months into gestation.

“What? Were you a midwife or something?” You asked incredulously.

“Yes, honey.” Cass had patted your hand like you were a simpleton. “I helped deliver babies for over 15 years. I was younger than you were when I first started!”

You had stared. ‘Oh god, how many crazy cultists are actually nurses in disguise?’

“Here we go, all set. You can lay her down here.” Cassie came over brusquely, smoothing over the wrinkles in the cot before Lucifer put you down.

He laid you on the sheets, light as a feather, jarring as you felt your belly weigh you down. The King didn’t go far, reluctant to let go of your hand. You held on like a vice as well, gripping and squeezing with each contraction.

You felt pinches in and around your abdomen, but the pain was… off. It came not from true agony, but the overworking of your internal organs in contrast to the pleasantness that you embodied post-glow stick phase.

Hearing childbirth horror stories all your life, and just the horrors of raising children in general, you expected to be screaming and thrashing.

This wasn’t as bad as some of your past periods had been. What’s worse than that, however, is the unnecessary guilt you feel for how troublesome it isn’t.

—

Lucifer struggled to remain in one spot as the urge to pace up and down the cramped little birthing room ate at him.

He didn’t want to leave you — not that his two hosts would dare make him, regardless of tradition — but old habits die hard. He was fidgeting, putting all his weight on one foot then the other.

You were his exact opposite, laying placid and relaxed on the birthing bed, eyeing the little room. Microexpressions flitted across your face, some of confusion and some of hurt, but aside from your firm grasp on his hand, and the occasional grunt, you may as well have been dozing off.

Eventually you glanced at him.

“Do you wanna sit down?” You asked calmly.

Lucifer tried to laugh but it came out like a strangled wheeze. “Nahhh, this is fine. I’m fine. Are you fine? I mean I know you’re not fine, but can I do something? Whatever you need, I can get it for you!”

His rambling ends with you bopping him between the eyes teasingly. “You’re silly.”

It’s inexplicable, but Lucifer’s mood lightened at your mellow admonishment. He meets your warm, drowsy expression with an adoring smile of his own.

“I am.” He kissed your forehead. “You’re an angel to put up with it.”

A too-loud rasp interrupted the soft moment of nothing but affection and kisses. Cass was standing at the foot of your cot, hands on each of your knees as she kept your legs apart.

“Get ready, honey. You’re on your way.” She hailed.

–

A cry split through the air and it went straight to your heart.

You gulp down air (Lucifer mimicking you without meaning to) with sweat pouring from your hairline. The lack of pain hadn’t meant a lack of effort, and you still felt like you’d run a marathon just to pass the little being currently wailing in Mrs. Farrow’s arms.

“It’s a girl.” Mrs. Farrow declared.

There was no attempt to hide the sidelong glance she gave Mr. Farrow. The lines and grooves on the elderly man’s face deepened until he resembled a gnarled tree trunk.

“Hmm.” Was his reply, deep baritone rolling like thunder in the tiny room.

Vehement indignance blazed to life inside your mind when the old man looked at you, critical and disappointed. You felt like tearing him and the rest of this old, tacky room to shreds. Yet, exhaustion had planted its roots deep inside of you, and all you could do was glare at the old couple from your makeshift bed.

‘Why does it fucking matter?’

“Gimme my kid.” You growled.

As if to piss you off further, Cass ignored you in favor of wiping the baby clean before passing her off to Lucifer. The old bat presented her to the King like she was a fallen bannerman’s sword, even curtsying while doing it.

It was so weird that it brought you out of your anger for a second.

Lucifer was clearly apprehensive, and his insecurity made the grand gesture stranger. He swallowed visibly, making eye contact with you when he couldn’t break away from the internal turmoil he was struggling with.

“Bring her to me.” You demanded. Lucifer nodded vigorously, cocking a head toward you.

It was fucking nonsensical, but at last Cass obeyed and brought you a bundle wrapped in silky black.

The baby’s wailing tapered off as soon as she’d made contact with you. And like a child on Christmas morning, you shifted to sit up as much as you could and pry open the swaddling cloth.

You sniffled.

All at once, the breath caught in your throat and your eyes welled up with tears.

The newborn was as flagrant as her father in terms of skin tone and hair. She hadn’t yet opened her eyes but already you could see none other than a spitting image of Lucifer himself. Right down to the rosy apple cheeks that made up her pudgy little face.

You were a little surprised to see that she had a nose. A little black smudge, puppy-like - anomalous like the little growths on her forehead and the itty bitty spade on the tip of her wagging tail.

She was perfect.

“I think she’s a Charlotte.” You manage to tear your eyes away from the miraculous hellspawn in your arms just long enough to search Lucifer’s golden gaze. “What do you think?”

His Majesty is a whimpering mess beside you. “Y-yeah. That’s perfect.”

Peeling the blanket back just that much more, you lean toward him. It takes a little coaxing, but sure enough Lucifer traces a delicate claw over the child’s tiny brow.

“Hello Charlotte.” He whispered. “We’re so happy you’re here.”

Adoration overwhelmed you, nigh on visible like the air was tinged with its color, its scent, its warmth cocooning the three of you.

Daddy, Mommy and baby. A strange but happy little family.

Lou embraced the two of you, hiding his face, and subsequent weeping, in the side of your neck while your baby cooed.

The background chants of ‘Hail Princess Charlotte’ and ‘Hail King Lucifer’ were, thankfully, not enough to ruin the moment.

Nothing could. Until.

It doesn’t dawn on you that anything is wrong when the glow has faded. It’s only the incidental look at your fingers, with Charlotte’s tail curled around them, that freezes you. Numbness then began to crawl up your body, as if waiting for the moment that you’re brain would connect the dots. The copper scent of blood made your nostrils flare and heart hammer.

Fear clutched at you in an instant. “Take her. Take the baby.”

Your desperate hiss and barely-there shuffle to push Charlotte into Lucifer’s arms fully had his face falling.

“W-wai-wh-What’s happening?” He asked, panic rising.

Mrs. Farrow is prompt, crone’s face scrunched and nose prominent as if she could sniff out the issue. She’s stood at the end of the bed, already lifting the sheets off your body before you can seek her out.

A stiff hand appears over the covers, covered in shiny dark claret. “She’s bleedin’ too much.”

Lucifer’s eyes blazed from where he hovered. “Why?”

The elderly woman was ready to shrug, but she stalled. Perhaps out of fear. “It happens, your Grace. Birthing a baby takes a toll on the mother, sometimes it’s too much.”

“Then why are you just standing there?”Lucifer bared his fangs, ivory in the lowlight. His eyes were a haze of vermillion, so opaque that you couldn’t find his pupils or the soul inside. “Help her!”

The truly demonic scrape of his vocal chords frightened you, as did the sudden appearance of tusk-like horns protruding from his skull and the fire coming to life between them. His beautiful skin marred and stretched and cracked as if his form were a prison barely containing the true beast within.

Energy crackled in the air, heat rising to blow back your hair and dry the air from your lungs like a flung-open kiln. The breath was stolen from your lungs as ivory wings shot out and overtook what little space was left in the alcove.

Reality was literally distorting around Lucifer’s warped rage.

Mr. Farrow, for all his reticence, reached for his wife’s shoulder from within your line of sight.

“Lucifer.” You hissed, bearing the brunt of his inhuman stare when he turned to you. It took real energy to speak. “I need you… the baby…”

It didn’t take anymore prodding for the blond to intercept your daughter once your desperation got through to him. The Devil slowly shifted back, revealing the depth of his fear in the cloudless turn of his gaze. He met you halfway - finally - and pulled Charlotte close to his chest.

A pang of thankfulness made laughter bubble up from your diaphragm. It hurt. Everything hurt again.

“Stop. Wait.” Lucifer begged, voice turned to ice. Fragile, cracking. His natural white glow had dimmed significantly like a cooling star. “This isn’t— I promised you this wouldn’t happen! This can’t happen!”

A shudder ran through you.

“Hey.” You lifted a hand and placed it on his pale cheek, thumb brushing over where white met red. “Nothing… for it now.”

“No, don’t, that’s… No.” His agony was so palpable, as his fury had been.

“You’re gonna be a great dad.” You murmured.

Lucifer bowed over the side of the bed with Charlotte snug against him. You could feel the warmth of his breath, and then the splash of his tears against your cheek as he broke down. You felt it deep in your bones, and the lump in your throat that choked you.

“Not without you.” He said. “I can’t do this without you.”

A pained smile was your response. Vision a-blur. Cotton tongue.

“You… will.”

Lucifer shook his head fiercely. “I promised you. I swore I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. I can’t… I can’t...”

“Please. Please don’t — ” Anguish turned Lucifer’s once melodic voice into broken notes. “Don’t leave us. Please, please, please.”

His sobs intermingled with Charlotte’s whimpering. She fussed as she was woken from her doze by the growing, tangible urgency. You wished you could calm both of them. Take them in your arms and make it all go away, promise that you weren’t going anywhere.

“Please. Please. Please.” The word fell from the Devil’s mouth like a prayer.

You wondered if he really was praying. Praying to his Father.

It broke your heart.

The candlelight around you was getting brighter as the rest of your surroundings grew dark. Lucifer, as brilliant as he was, lingered somewhere in between. You squinted when his features began to fuse together in your mind. It did little to help, as large, dark shadows blotted out the corners of your sight.

Charlotte was bawling and you fought to open your eyes again. You hadn’t realized they’d closed.

You were so tired. The will to rise up and comfort your baby was dwindling. Everything had succumbed to a thin stream of light in a sea of darkness.

With a breath, and another Herculean effort, you opened your eyes again.

White blinded you.

And then you were nothing.

***

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#lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer morningstar #hazbin lucifer

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albuuqer · 7 months

Text

Home, at last.

manga spoilers! chapter 237 included.

Megumi Fushiguro reunites with his family, finally.

The water that surrounded him stilled to a stop, making him float between the tides. His eyes were squeezed shut until an arm shook him whole, awaking him from a dream that felt way too long.

“Megumi,” The voice kept on calling, still shaking him, “Megumi, wake up!”

He knew who it was. That voice was Tsumiki’s. But that was impossible. He remembers. She was dead. He was the one who did it.

“Megumi,” She beamed, forcing him to open his eyes, “Megumi!”

Megumi couldn’t move. It wasn’t like before, when Sukuna trapped him inside his own body, and he couldn’t move. This time, he just didn’t want to move in fear of making it all disappear. This had to be a dream, right? If he lifted a finger, it could all dissolve into his mind. And he’d have to face reality. Wait, what reality? Where was he before? In Shinjuku, where he…

“Come on, Dad’s making pancakes!” Tsumiki slapped his arm one more time before bolting out of the room, a bounce in her steps.

Dad? Who, Toji Fushiguro? That is impossible. What kind of nightmare was this?

Megumi carefully lifted the blanket from his body, only to freeze once again. He was tiny. Incredibly, absurdly tiny. Avoiding his suspicions, he stood up and opened the door. The corridor was familiar, everything was.

And it was all confirmed to him when a voice exclaimed, “Satoru!”

Megumi froze again, dread creeping up his spine like a disease. It couldn’t be, it couldn’t possibly be.

“I got this!” Gojo assured dismissively, very much not getting it albeit his words.

He was there. Alive. Smiling and joking as always. Like nothing had changed. Megumi never felt so relieved in seeing Gojo, the same Gojo that used to annoy him endlessly, but that brought so much comfort as of now.

Beside the man, stood you. You from his memories, the one that he kept safe in his heart. Not the you from the real world. The you that he killed a few days ago.

You rolled your eyes like you always did. In a way that shows love.

“You got a burning pancake, that’s what. Even our neighbors can tell,” You smacked his hands away from the pan, handling it with caution before smoothing the surface with butter, “Set the table instead, will you?”

“You can’t kick the chef out of the kitchen! It’s like,” He bit his lip in contemplation, searching for an analogy that would leave you tongue-tied, “Kicking the musician from the stage!”

“Alright, Michael Jackson, my bad,” You laughed wholeheartedly when Gojo sticks out his tongue to you, “Go and wake up the–”

“Good morning!” Tsumiki interjected, waving her hand to you.

“Tsumiki,” You smiled immediately, you always did when you saw him or Tsumiki. For some reason, that made Megumi feel worse, “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes!” His sister sat in a stool that used to be too high for him to reach, “Megumi must’ve slept even better, I couldn’t wake him up!”

“Is that so?” You chuckled lightly, but then frowned at the silhouette standing in the corridor. Tilting your head, Megumi tensed up when your eyes focused on him, a smile adorning the corners of your lips, “Good morning, sleepyhead.”

“Megumi!” Tsumiki turned to face him, smiling too.

He walked up slowly to the counter, climbing into the stool on Tsumiki's left. Your eyes were no longer on him, which gave him time to regain his composure.

What was going on? Is this a dream, an illusion? Or is this the “life” that flashes before your eyes just before you die?

“Show off,” Someone scoffed beside him and Megumi almost forgot that Gojo was there. The man was leaning on the counter, admiring–no, scratch that, worshiping you flip the pancakes in the air.

“You’re just jealous,” You humored him, flexing your arm that held the pan as if being able to flip pancakes was a medal, “Now, which shape should I make?”

Tsumiki’s face lit up when you looked at her, awaiting her reply, “A heart!”

Megumi’s mouth moved on its own, “A dog!”

“A dog is too hard,” Tsumiki countered matter-of-factly, “A heart is simple!”

“A heart is too corny!” He argued childishly. Well, he was a child, technically.

“You’re too corny!”

A gasp ripped out of his throat, eyes bulging out of his tiny head to glare at his sister as if she had uttered the most heinous profanity at him.

Gojo laughed, his hand trying to muffle the sound, while you let out a breath that resembled a chuckle. He and Tsumiki only stopped bickering when you pushed two plates across the counter.

A heart-shaped pancake with strawberries and rose syrup drawn into a smiley face, banana slices framing the heart with raspberries in between the circles, on the rightmost plate. That one was Tsumiki’s, for sure.

And an oddly shaped pancake that, if you squint hard enough, could bear a resemblance to a canine creature–but Megumi knew what it was; three blueberries connected by thin lines of chocolate syrup, forming a triangle that was identical to the one on his Divine Dogs’ foreheads. That was his.

“Ta-dah!” And you smiled like you hadn’t made the sweetest thing for them just now.

Tsumiki’s eyes started to sparkle, “Thank you!” And she dug into her plate, munching the soft batter with an unwavering smile.

Megumi, on the other hand, wouldn’t budge.

“What’s wrong, Megs?” Gojo asked him curiously when he did nothing but stare at his plate, his lanky figure leaning on his shoulder. Fingers wiggling towards his plate, a mocking grin on his lips, “If you don’t eat, I’m sure someone–”

A spatula smacked his hand away, “Don’t pick on someone half your age, Satoru,” You chastised, but couldn't hide the endearment in your voice when you said his name, “What are you, a bully?”

Gojo held onto his hand as if a curse had just bit it off, “When did you get so violent? To get physically attacked under my own roof,” He deflated into a stool, throwing his head back while he lamented his situation, “What a cruel world!”

“Shut up and eat your pancakes,” You nagged, handing him a plate full of your failed attempts of doing Megumi’s dog-shaped ones.

“Do you even love me?” Gojo asked, utterly offended by the food that was given to him.

Megumi usually muted the squabble between the two of you in his head, unless you were insulting Gojo and needed backup (he’d gang up on him with no hesitation). But this time, he could but stare at the couple of idiots that picked up a pair of strays and raised them. Before Megumi could stop it, his eyes were pricked up with tears.

You took notice of it first, ignoring Gojo’s whining and turning to him, “What’s wrong, Gumi?”

The pure softness of your voice made him want to cry harder. He didn’t know. He didn’t know what was happening, or where he was and what it meant.

But he knew that he missed it.

The light-hearted quarrels between you and Gojo, the tranquility that mornings brought along with them, the easy-going atmosphere that always engulfed the Fushiguro-Gojo household when the four of you were together.

When did all that go away? Was it when Tsumiki got cursed? Or maybe when Gojo was sealed and everything in Shibuya turned the world upside down? Was it all gone the moment you left this world?

“Gumi,” The nickname snapped him out of it, reminding him of where he was, “Are you okay?” He was with you, with his family.

You, Tsumiki, and Gojo were staring at him worriedly. You had circled around the counter, facing and cupping his face onto your hands, holding him with so much care that he could do nothing but lean into your touch.

“I–I’m,” His mouth felt suddenly dry, no matter how much he licked his lips, “Can I hug you?”

Your eyes melted into a puddle of love and adoration, your arms wrapping around his tiny frame that trembled and quivered like a leaf in a thunderstorm.

“Shh, you’re okay,” Your quiet, sweet voice only made him sob louder, “We’re here, Gumi, you’re here.”

Megumi felt another pair of arms pressing up against him, Gojo hid his face in the crook of your neck but he somehow knew the kind of expression that the sorcerer was wearing. The kind of face that made curses and humans alike to tremble in fear. The sort of emotion that always appeared when someone dared to hurt his family.

Tsumiki nestled into your arms too, shielding her little brother from the world with her tiny arms. And you held them both in your own, with Gojo.

Megumi grabbed a chunk of your shirt, clenching his fist around the cloth. Gripping into you as if you were going to fade and slip through his fingers.

“You’re here,” You caressed his back, making little patterns with your finger. Megumi sniffled harshly, trying to just stop crying but he couldn’t. You pressed a kiss on the crown of his head, “We’re all here, sweetheart.”

Gojo ruffled his hair like he used to do when they met, and Tsumiki held his hand in the same way she did back when he was scared.

And, for a moment, Megumi forgot.

He forgot that this wasn’t real. And that Tsumiki was gone, that you were killed and Gojo defeated. He forgot that he was in Shinjuku, staring in the backseat of his own body at Hajime Kashimo, who challenged him–no, not him, Sukuna. He forgot that he had died.

But, for once in his life, he got what he wanted.

He was home. With his family.

my son :(

#megumi fushiguro #fushiguro tsumiki #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #jjk 237 #jjk spoilers #gojou satoru x reader #gege when i catch you gege #megumi x reader #fushiguro x reader #family love

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reareaotaku · 9 months

Note

I read your last Yandere!Ken headcanons...so I wanted to ask you if you would ever write smut for Yandere!Ken?

I Love You Like a Doll

[God, I hope this is good... Warning, I haven't had much experience with Smut]

Yandere! Ryan! Ken x Fem! Reader Word Count: 1,674 Tw: Smut/Nsfw, Strap-on/Sex Toy, Human! Reader, Kidnapped! Reader, Slight Panic Attack, Loss of Virginity, Porn W/ Plot, Foreplay, Restraints, Dub-Con, Crying 🔞18+ Content due to dark and adult themes. Read at your own risk

He wanted it so bad. He didn't really have the parts to do it, but he learned that this 'love-making' thing is what people do when they love each other. He loves you and he wants to show it to you.

He looked at the toy, confused. It was supposedly a plastic version of human male genitals. There was a belt-like rope attached to it, that he could wrap around his waist and then there was fabric that would cover where his dick would have been. The dildo was attached to it.

It was strange to Ken. He had never seen anything like it. Was this what you liked? He thought it was strange, but he was in no place to judge you.

Speaking of you, he needed to get you food. That was also something he didn't understand about your kind. You needed this substance to survive and he didn't understand it. But because of this, he made it where food was more accessible in Kendom, but it only benifited you. No one else needed the food.

He placed the strap down, before grabbing a plate filled with small snack foods. He leaned on the door of the room you were being held in. He smiled himself when seeing you still tied up to the bed.

You saw the male and struggle against the restraints, before groaning and giving up. He closes the door and goes to your side while setting down the food. He caresses your face, moving some lose strands out of your face.

There were tears streaming down your face and your eyes were swollen and red. If there wasn't a gag in your mouth, you would have been screaming at him.

"If you promise not to scream, I'll remove the gag." He tells you, tilting his head.

You quickly nod, wanting to get the thick ball out of your mouth. When he takes it out, you take a deep breath, greedy for oxygen, since you were deprived of it. He picks up a cracker, examining it, before putting it near your mouth.

"Open."

You did as he said, hoping that maybe he'll let you go if he thinks you're accepting him.

"I was thinking of trying something..."

Your eyes widened, confused. Your mind was racing with thoughts and concerns on what he could possibly be talking about. His mind was corrupt and destroyed, so you didn't know where he was going with this.

"I was hoping you'd let me. I mean," He straightens up, almost as if he realized he was coming off more submissive, "Of course you'll let me. Why would you deny me? I deserve it."

You looked at him like he was crazy, which he was, annoyed by his statement. You almost wondered what he was like before, if this was him at his worse. How could he have fallen so far off?

"And if it goes well, I might consider letting you out of this room."

Your eyes widen in hope and excitement. You should have been more cautious... You should have known better.

He smiles down at you, "Well, I'm glad you're so open."

"What is it that you want me to do?"

He taps his chin, almost as if he was debating telling you. You frowned, tugging harder on the restraints.

"Wouldn't it be more fun if I showed you?"

Your eyebrows furrowed together, your heartbeat picking up. Your amygdala was sending glutamate into other parts of your brain, causing your body to freeze up. It felt like you were being ambushed by enormous tides of water that was quickly drowning you.

You hear the door click as he leaves, causing you to come back down to Earth- Wait, where you even still on Earth? Honestly, you didn't really know. Though, it didn't take long before Ken came back and he was holding something behind his back.

He stands at the end of the bed, before kneeling on it. The divot of his weight feels strange, when your body goes down with it. You watch him carefully, still unsure of his intents.

He finally pulls the thing out from his back. You gasp when seeing the long, thick, dildo strapped to a wrap. You wondered where he even got ahold of such a thing. As far as you knew, Ken wasn't even really human like you were. He had the body of a doll.

"Is it too big?" He asked, genuinely concerned when seeing the fear on your face. "I heard 7 inches was average."

You shook your head. You had never taken anything that big inside you. Granted, you had never taken anything inside, but it was so much bigger than anything you'd ever seen. It was thick and veiny and made you wonder why someone would put that much detail into a toy.

You can hear him unbuckle his belt and take off his pants. You avoided eye contact as he attached the strap to his waist.

"Honestly, Y/n... I don't know what I'm doing."

You looked up at him, as he struggled with your pants.

"I want to do this right," He says it as if he's trying not to cry. He wants to please you. He wants to make you happy. He wants you to love him.

You pull on your arms and he looks up at you when hearing the headboard shake.

"Right, you're still tied up." He hums, "If you promise not to fight me, I'll untie you."

You weren't stupid. If you had the ability to fight off Ken, you wouldn't be here. "Okay. Please untie me, Ken."

He blushes at your begging, before going up to untie you while avoiding eye contact. You rub your wrists, red marks imprinted on them. You groan, before looking up at Ken. He was towering over you, seemingly loss and confused on what he was supposed to do.

"None of you have genitals right?"

He looks at you, "No."

"So you've never done this?"

"No."

"Me either."

He smiles, happy that you had never been this vulnerable with anyone. Granted, he had kidnapped you and he didn't deserve you, but he didn't care. He had you now, and that's all that mattered. He's willing to learn whatever he has to, so he can please you.

He pushed his hands through your folds, playing with it. He had never seen it before, so he was curious. You bit your lip, trying to contain yourself. He wasn't doing anything special, so you felt you shouldn't give him your moans. He pushed his fingers towards your clit, rubbing the hood, before pulling it back and flicking your clit, causing you to lightly squeal.

It was cute. He had never heard a sound like that before. How could he live without it now having had heard it? He kept 2 fingers on your clit, lightly rubbing it, while his other hand lightly pushed through your pussy. He pulled back your labia minora, lightly licking where his fingers had once been.

A loud moan erupted from your throat when feeling his wet tongue. He smirked against you, before squeezing his tongue inside of your wet hole. His fingers play with the outside of your pussy, which makes you wonder if he lied to you.

He pulls away, causing you to frown, before you shook your head. This man had kidnapped you, you shouldn't be liking it! But it was so good. And he was so cute. And he really liked you, more than any man or woman has ever liked you.

He kneels over you, positioning the strap head over your pussy. This was really happening and you were letting it. You grabbed his shoulders, your nails digging into his perfect skin as he slowly pushed inside of you. He groaned, the strange sensation of pain foreign to him. He bottoms out and you sigh in relief.

You look up at him, but his eyes were closed, as if he couldn't look at you. He didn't want you to look into his eyes and see all of his emotions. So many feelings were rushing through him and they were all very new to him. What was this blooming feeling in his stomach? It felt... well, it felt nice.

You smacked his shoulder, causing him to open his eyes. "Move, please."

He chuckled at your submission. If he knew this is what he needed for you to love him, he would of dont it a long time ago. He pulled out, leaving only the tip, before shoving himself back in. You nearly scream at the intrusion, not expecting it. You pull yourself towards him, chest to chest.

He slowly began to thrust, finding a rhythm as you move along with him. He admired the way your eyes rolled back and drool rolled down your cheek. You were out of it. Almost like a doll.

The second the thought came into his head, he picked up his pace. You did remind him of a doll, even though you were anything but. Your moans became louder as your walls tightened around the rubber dildo. You could feel the tight squeeze and every vein imprinted on the toy.

It was slushing inside of you and the wet sounds of the balls smacking against your ass echoed in the small room. Your words became incomprehensible as your body tightened and you could feel a tight knot in your stomach.

And then, Ken hit you with one last thrust and that tight knot bursted, causing you to loudly moan Ken's name, catching him by surprise, as your cum flushed out like a waterfall. You had never came like that on your own and it was hot.

Though, you did not feel hot. You were sticky and sweaty and your hair was sticking to your face. You must have looked terrible and smelled like sex and body odor. Though, Ken seemed to think otherwise, because he grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him.

"You are the most beautiful woman in the world and I love you."

#yandere ken x reader #ken #ryan ken #ryan gosling #yandere ken #ken x reader #ken barbie #yandere barbie ken #yandere barbie ken x reader #yandere barbie #yandere ryan ken x reader #the barbie movie

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st4rd0lly · 29 days

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𝐖𝐎𝐍’𝐓 𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐄 !

𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘢 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 @/𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘬𝘰𝘭𝘺𝘢 ’𝘴 𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘰𝘳 𝘈𝘜 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘕𝘪𝘬𝘰𝘭𝘢𝘪 !! 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺’𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘮𝘢𝘻𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘳 <3

@doukeshi-kun

cw : no smut just yet , MDNI still , slight implications of future dark content , reader is an adult in early 20s while nikolai is older , fem reader

A young rising star actress, gaining more and more popularity within each film you star in.

That was you.

And unfortunately for you, you had a very big director with his eyes glued to every move you make. Nikolai Gogol was a very prominent actor and director, he’s been in the business for a long time and he’s good at it. Almost too good.

There’s a lot of mysteries, rumors, more surrounding the man in general despite him being there for so long. Not much is known about his personal life or how he started to rise up. Most of the public just knew that he started off as a child actor.

There’s almost an aura of weariness that people get around him, but his charismatic and mischievous nature keeps pulling them back in for more despite their gut. When he walks, the people shifts and the mood becomes a tide dependent on him due to the air he brings. He knows how to perform and then perform, even when he’s not on the job.

It was only natural that he gained interest in a new star, he was a director after all. That was what most people told you. But there was just something off about him to you, though you never had an actual full conversation with the man besides…

“Haha, isn’t it my lucky day! An amazing actress with more amazing work, lovely meeting you.” The man stood before you, giving a small grin before shaking your hand. You’d smile back at him, shaking his hand too.

“Pleasure to meet you Gogol.” You said, your voice firm but sounding polite and friendly. He was a very attractive man, that you couldn’t deny. He was tall, he had pale skin, and pretty white, fluffy hair that was tied in its usual braid. His eyes were something that were easy to get lost into, a green that’s rich like emerald and a shade of a blue that paints the sky.

Not to mention, the scar that sits on top with a nicely put together outfit. The red tint of his lips made a nice contrast and you couldn’t help but feel a slight dread to hear him speak again for some reason.

“Oh please dear, do call me Nikolai. No need for last names.” He reassures, the smile on his face grew wider, letting out a small chuckle. You felt your chest tighten. Did everyone feel so off when talking to him?

“Director!”

“Ah, I have to get going. I’ll see you around yeah darl?”

“Of course.”

And that was the last you’ve talked to him. It was a while ago, back at an event for god knows what. You’d been to too many for your liking. You still remember the moments where he was glancing at you ever so subtly.

But now your team came to you with an opportunity, an opportunity to act with him.

“It’s a really good chance for you to really get out there. Gogol is one of the best, he’s directing and acting and! He’ll be a great guidance.” Your manager told you, you nodded your head but pursed your lips into a thin line in thought.

“I don’t know…” You sighed, bouncing your knee while you sat.

“You’re already gaining a lot of popularity, a boost wouldn’t hurt. You’ve got great skills and a good mindset. You mind if I ask why you’re hesitating?”

‘Because he’s off! There’s something off about him!’

“Guess I’m just… a little intimidated is all. Don’t get me wrong, I know this is pretty rare for newbies to get invited into such a huge project by someone like him. But I just—”

“He’s been one of your supporters since the start, it’s a good thing he’s interested in you. I get it, it might be overwhelming but that’s just how the industry is. —With that being said, it’s still ultimately your choice.”

You bit your inner cheek. It would be rude to decline an offer from a big shot like him, especially when he’s been supporting your work you figured. And it doesn’t hurt to be curious about him too, only way to figure out more about him is…

“Let him know I accept then.”

‘We’ll see how this goes.’

The past few days working with Nikolai, your co-stars, and staff have all went well so far. Your manager was right, so far at least. You were still somewhat skeptical. He was great at guiding people in the right direction. Not only was he easy to talk to but he was friendly, very friendly.

Almost a little too friendly to you, but you shrugged it off. It must because you’re still somewhat new to the acting scene. You still weren’t sure how to feel.

“Hey darl, how’s my favorite star holding up?” Nikolai’s cheery voice snapped you out of your thoughts, his hand placed on the low of your back. You didn’t think much of it and you smiled at him politely.

“A bit tired but nothing I can’t handle. I’m excited to run upcoming scenes.” You told him, eating a strawberry that they had out on the food table for lunch. You managed to grab a few before they ran out. Your manager always told you it wasn’t good to act with completely empty stomach. He let out a small chuckled, nodding his head.

“Yes, yes! I’m glad you’re having fun dear.” He grinned, but then his eyes trailed to your lips. “Are the strawberries sweet?” He asked, keeping the cheerful expression on his face.

“Yeah, they’re sweeter than I expected. I really like these.” You responded genuinely, grabbing another one.

“Let me have a taste.” He said, leaning down and eating the strawberry from your hand to his mouth. You were surprised, not expecting him to do something like that so casually.

‘He smells sweet.’

‘….And his hands are really nice.’

You looked at him still with a surprised expression, letting out a small laugh when you saw his focused face on tasting the the strawberry. You were aware he was probably doing this to make you feel more comfortable and light hearted. At least that’s what you thought to make of his actions.

‘Wait, did I just say he smells sweet? In my head?’

“Yes—”

“Huh?” You cut him off, snapping out of your head. Worried that you had said your thoughts out loud, you turn your face to his more directly. He raises a brow at you, an amused look on his face.

“I was about to say, yes you are right. They are pretty sweet but it looks like you have something on your mind honey.” He tells you, nothing ever goes unnoticed by him.

“O-Oh! It’s nothing, sorry I was just thinking about something random.” You try to explain, there’s no way you’re going to explain what you thought about him to him. That was weird. He’s weird… okay but maybe you’re weird too for thinking that of him-

“You always look so tense around me darling, you always have something on your mind don’t you?” He chuckles. “Dim your worried thoughts pretty thing. I’m not gonna bite you.”

…Okay yeah he is weird.

But for some reason, your cheeks feel like they were growing warmer.

“Unless you want me too.”

You didn’t quite catch what he said that moment, so now it was your turn to look at him a little amused snd confused.

“What was that?”

“Oh nothing nothing dear!” He rubs the inner of your wrist quickly with his thumb, standing back up straight and patting you on the back. He let out a small light hearted laugh. “Oh you’re so cute. Relax okay? This is your first time working with a huge director isn’t it? —Ah maybe that sounds too arrogant of me. I’m just rather familiar with the position is all.”

“Y-Yeah it is, you know just wanna do my best.” You stammer a bit, nodding your head in agreement.

“You’re already doing so good for me sweetheart, you’re gonna be just fine.” He reassures you, he was a little too good at eye contact. “Actually, you know what? Say, are you free after the shoot?”

You blink.

Where did this come from? What did he plan to do? Why was he asking? You had to come up with an answer. Quick. There wasn’t any time to think-

“Uh, you know I think I am? I don’t usually have anything planned after shoots.”

‘Fuck. What was that?’

You internally started cursing at yourself. You initially planned to deny, a thing your gut was screaming at you to do. But you couldn’t think right when he looked at you. It almost seemed sly in the way he smirked.

“How about this? After this shoot is done, go home and get dressed. Come over to my place for dinner yeah darl? I’ll give you some advice, I would just tell you now but we have to run the next scene in about 30? And I don’t wanna stay at the studio much longer after. What do you say?” He asks, tilting his head ever so slightly.

‘There’s no backing out now..’

“Sure, that sounds good to me.” You gave him a sheepish smile. A grin was too swift to grow on his face before relaxing into a casual smile. He reached for his phone, it was different from the usual phone he uses. It must’ve been a personal phone. You figured you should grab your own too.

“Here you go.” He says, handing you his phone and swapping with you. You both take a few moments to put in your numbers and for some reason, you feel as if you’ve greatly messed up. You both swapped the phones back. “There’s my number, give me a call before you’re on your way dear.”

“Okay, I will. Thank you.” You told him, now somewhat nervous to look up at him again.

“Gogol! Makeup touch ups!” A staff called out for him, your makeup artist was also probably looking for you.

“I’ll be seeing you later.” He winks at you, walking away. You let out a small laugh, nervous. You finished the strawberry off quickly, tossing it into the trash before walking off to find your makeup artist.

This is too weird.

dividers : @/cafekitsune

#. . . words of the crimson moon —✫・゜・。.#bsd smut #bsd x reader #nikolai smut #nikolai x reader #nikolai gogol smut #nikolai gogol x reader #fem reader

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mrsbuckybarnes1917 · 2 months

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← Smutlet Masterlist

18+ Cockwarming

You shifted uncomfortably in the Captain's lap. There was no reason why you shouldn't be used to this by now. It was your favorite, had been since the two of you first got together. Today was different. He'd been on the run for months. But you were able to rendezvous at a safe house. Finally! He had missed you. Afraid that they would use you to get to him, Steve had almost decided against leaving you a message. Almost.

The thought of your touch, the melody of your voice, the kindness of your eyes, the curve of your breasts, they tipped the tide of the war that waged inside him. It was lust that eventually overcame. So here you were, peppering kisses along his jaw, trying your best to distract his mind from the events of the last few months. The two of you were nestled in an oversized armchair at a secure location. You marveled at the thick growth of hair that had taken place during his absence. His calloused hands held you in place.

It hadn’t taken long for you to be pressed against his chest, panties pulled aside with his hard cock nestled deep inside your aching cunt. The position hadn’t been Steve’s intent. He had planned an evening of romance. Until he laid eyes on you. You had arrived in the village dressed in the most inappropriate attire. At least in Steve’s opinion. He was surprised that swarms of SWAT teams hadn’t descended upon them with the number of heads you turned in your bright sundress that barely kissed the tops of your knees. How dare you sashay around with your exposed shoulders and bare thighs? Your dress flowing with every swish of your hips made you an irresistible sight.

Steve knew you weren't seeking attention, you knew the risks. No one here would recognize you with your hair tied into a silk scarf, your sparkling eyes hidden behind the darkest shades. But there was no doubt your beauty turned heads. And he hated that. He wanted you all to himself. Which is how you ended up in this position. He knew he needed to remind you who you belonged to. When you had set out for this expedition, you had underestimated his need for you.

The second the door was locked, you were pressed against his chest, hot lips burning into the skin of your neck. A gasp escaped your lips as the tent in his pants brushed against your belly. How was he so hard already? Before the thought had fully formed, his hands were under the hem of your dress, massaging your slick folds. It was shocking how you were instantly soaked. It had been too long. He hadn’t even asked how you were. His lips were moving but there was no sound other than the moans deep inside your throats. This is how you found yourself straddling his thighs as he was balls deep inside you, cock pulsing against your walls.

“You’re such a little tease, you know that? So eager for my cock, doing whatever you can to get me riled up.”

You whimpered softly as your cunt clenched desperately around his length. There was a primal urge that burned deep inside you, begging you to move. It was too hard to bear. And even though there was no doubt that you loved having him fill you, you wanted more. You longed for it… needed it… craved him. Just some movement, a little friction, a twitch, maybe even a shudder. Anything more than his girth resting inside you. But the darkness in his eyes told you that you had to behave.

“Look at you, getting all worked up already. What’s wrong, darling?”

His fingers were wrapped so tightly around your hips, you wondered if it would leave a mark. Steve sure was being patient for someone who had greeted you so passionately. His lips trailed the contours of your cheek, nose leading the way across to your ear where he nuzzled it gently. It was the softest action he had demonstrated so far. But you knew it wouldn't last long as his cock twitched inside you in the most depraved way. You whined longingly, your walls throbbing painfully around his cock as he spoke to you in his special voice. The one he saved for the bedroom. Your Captain was usually such a traditional man. But not today.

“So needy, baby? I know what you want, you want me to move. But I’m not going to give it to you until you understand what you did wrong. Do you know what you did, darling?”

He crooned into your ear and you shook your head. You couldn’t speak. Simply sitting in his lap with your jaw hung slack and your eyes fluttering shut. Your mind tried to form a coherent thought. Should you ask him what he meant? But you were too drunk on the feeling of his cock inside you, that the words never left your lips.

“Too bad. Only good girls get what they want. And you haven’t been good for me, have you? Prancing around in this little dress. So careless. Drawing far too much attention. Did you want everyone to see you?”

You shook your head vehemently. Eyes wide. Steve chuckled, he knew you would never betray him, but he couldn’t deny how thrilling it was to see you so flustered. Normally he was the one blushing at your words.

“Are you sure, baby? Because you’re mine. Got that? Mine.”

He growled, bucking up into you. You cried out with surprise, digging your nails into his back. You leaned into his chest, nodding as he rolled his hips again, hands kneading your ass. The soft pleas that left your mouth were hoarse, so pathetically needy. His thrusts became more regular, a slow but rewarding pace. You moaned as he pushed himself deeper into your body.

“Yeah, you like this, baby? You like when I fuck you? I like it, too. I always love watching you lose it when I fill that pretty pussy of yours.”

His hand was between your thighs, fingers rubbing against your neglected clit. You whined, tossing your head back.

“Good girl! Come on my cock for me, baby. Come on, I want to feel you squeezing me. That’s it.”

You scrunched your eyes closed as his name tumbled from your lips, your cunt closing in around him. Steve groaned as his seed trickled out over your thighs and into his lap. You made a move to lift yourself off him, but his fingers closed around your waist.

“I’m not done with you just yet, darling.”

#steve rogers smut #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x f!reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fan fiction

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suashii · 5 months

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꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ 𝒟𝐼𝒩𝒩𝐸𝑅 𝒯𝐼𝑀𝐸

info ⭑ haitani ran x f!reader. 1.7k wc. nsfw (minors do not interact) ﾉ established relationship ﾉ teasing ﾉ fingering ﾉ oral (f!receiving) ﾉ mentions of creampie

if you were in your old apartment, one of your neighbors would have been banging on your door with a noise complaint by now. it’s one of the many perks of living with bonten’s haitani ran; his penthouse allows you to live without the concern of angry neighbors berating you for attempting to find joy in your daily tasks. you would make a list of all the other benefits if you weren’t too busy sliding around the kitchen in your socks and using the spatula as a makeshift microphone.

the bluetooth speaker sitting on the edge of the counter farthest from the food you’re cooking blares a song from the random playlist you had put on some time ago when you began to prepare dinner. as much as you love your new home, you have to admit; the silence that blankets the apartment while ran is away can be suffocating. you’d much rather have him home with you but your musical performances can tide you over until he finishes things up at work.

a lyric you can never resist singing approaches, gluing your feet to the spot in front of the stove as you ready to belt it out. you’re in the middle of hitting a note when a pair of arms wrap around your waist and pull you back so that you’re flush with his chest. you don’t have to turn your head to tell it’s ran. “you, my dear, have the voice of an angel.”

“someone’s out for brownie points,” you joke through a giggle. even though you haven’t faced any complaints regarding your loud music, maybe you should consider lowering the volume just a bit. you didn’t hear the automated ring of the lock signaling ran’s arrival. hell, you couldn’t even hear him coming towards you.

“me? never.” he shakes his head but a knowing smirk pulls at the corner of his lips. his chin comes to rest on your shoulder and you can see the two tones of his short, styled hair. it was neatly gelled this morning but now, a few strands stray from the coiffed majority. he must have been running his hands through it all day.

a deep, thoughtful hum vibrates the junction between your neck and shoulder, effectively gaining your attention. “what’s with all the clothes under this apron?”

you snort. what he’s getting at is clear but you feel the need to kid with him first. “that’s kind of the point of an apron—to protect the clothes you’re wearing beneath it.”

“i suppose,” he sighs, the breath of air wafting past your ear and sending a chill down your spine. “although, i do think you’d look a lot better without these.” he tugs on the hem of your cropped top and waistband of your thin lounge shorts. they slap against your skin with a resounding snap, pulling a surprised squeak up from your throat.

you’d be lying if you said ran’s ministrations and sugared words didn’t turn you on, but he could wait until after dinner was ready if his plan was to get you all hot and bothered. “you’re so shameless.”

“don’t worry, though,” he continues, ignoring your statement. you feel the neat bow tied behind your back significantly loosen. the strings of your apron brush against the bare skin of your legs as heavy hands find a home on your hips to spin you around. ran smiles and the corners of his violet eyes crinkle. “we can fix that easily.”

he pulls the apron over your head, discarding it on the island behind him. in one fluid movement, his hands grip your thighs to lift you onto the counter. the surface is cool beneath your skin and you fail to hold back a gasp at the contact. your parted lips give him the perfect opportunity to lean forward and capture them in a kiss. it’s a hungry clash of teeth and mingling of tongues that sends heat directly down to your core. even when ran pulls away, a string of saliva keeps the two of you connected. “mm, i’ve been thinking about kissing those pretty lips all day.”

you grin at the thought of being on his mind when you’re apart from each other. a sense of pride swells in your heart knowing that you mean so much to him. you’re not able to appreciate it for long before his mouth is on yours again. wandering hands make their way up to grope at your breasts. nimble fingers sneak their way under the hem of your top, pinching and tugging at your hardened peaks. the rough sensation draws a whimper up from your throat. ran’s chuckle rumbles against your lips.

“alright, alright, i’ll stop teasing.” his voice is breathy as he pulls away from you. heavy hands fall from your tits but he makes no move to pull your shirt back into place—he’d rather leave them out on display. instead, his hands bunch up the smooth fabric of your shorts. ran’s thumb taps at your thigh. “lift your hips up for me, yeah?”

you follow his command, steadying yourself on the counter before raising your pelvis. he smiles at your quick obedience, dragging both your satin shorts and panties down the length of your legs and casting them away to a pile on the floor. he, too, lowers to the floor, propping himself up on his knees.

from this position, he’s got the perfect view of your pussy. he licks his lips and whispers, “gorgeous.” his lips curl up in a smirk, eyes still trained on your cunt. “and so wet. you must have been thinking about me, too, huh?”

you nod, exhaling a heavy breath as deft fingers run up and down the slit of your puffy folds. his movements are deliberate, slow and calculated. it’s only when he’s ready that you feel one finger prodding at your entrance, ever so slowly sinking deeper and deeper into you until you can feel the cold metal of his ring against your heat. he doesn’t give you time to adjust to the chill before he’s dragging his finger out of your gummy walls just as leisurely as it entered. the lazy pumping continues and you’re sure he’s enjoying himself; if the smile tugging at his lips is any evidence. you, however, are frustrated. you try your best not to squirm as you speak. “more.”

“hm? more what?” he finally looks up to meet your eyes. there’s a teasing sparkle in his lilac irises, one that urges you to elaborate. and you know you should, otherwise, you’ll never get what you want.

“another finger,” you whine. “‘n faster, please.”

he huffs out a laugh through his nose. “as you wish.”

ran’s a man of his word, plunging another lithe finger into the warmth of your cunt. you suck in a shaky gasp at the uncharacteristically fast intrusion—although it satisfies you, fills you up like you had hoped it would. and, just as he promised, ran picks up the pace. the relaxed speed becomes one that’s more erratic, desperate even. with the curl of his fingers, he reaches the spot he was just short of hitting earlier, the one he knows works you up.

“f-fuck!” you choke out. your exclamation brings a grin to ran’s face. you never fail to give him the exact reaction he’s looking for. but—and he’s not afraid to admit this—he’s greedy. he wants, no, needs more. he’s sure you’re willing to give and he’s more than happy to take.

still knuckles-deep in your cunt, ran dips his head down to leave a soft kiss on the bud of nerves settled at your apex. you twitch beneath his lips and the man takes it as a sign to continue. his tongue pokes out, wet and pointed, to circle the sensitive pearl. your thighs tense tighter and tighter with each swirl and the knot in your tummy grows taut, threatening to snap at any moment.

ran easily takes notice of your impending orgasm. one final push is all it will take to send you over the edge and he knows exactly what will do the trick. you’ve done so well for him, of course he’ll reward you for being good. he bites back a laugh before wrapping his lips around your swollen clit to suck at it—once, twice, thrice, until your back is arching and your eyes are rolling into your skull.

a wave of pure bliss washes over you but your cries of pleasure are overpowered by the jolting blare of the fire alarm. you don’t have a single second to wind down from your orgasm before ran pulls away from you, drags his fingers out of you, to deal with the situation on the stove. you’re left a shaking, sweaty mess perched atop the granite counters.

with his clean hand, ran easily turns off the burner and removes the pan of ruined food from the heat. the fingers covered in your essence make their way up to his mouth while he examines what was meant to be tonight’s meal. you watch as he casually cleans the indication of your arousal off of his hand. “well,” he pulls his fingers out with an exaggerated pop, “that’s beyond help.”

his show sends yet another wave of excitement straight to your core. the bulge pressing against the front of his tailored pants is no help either, creating an outline that’s practically screaming ’look at me!’. all you can think about is ran between your legs, his cock buried in you, and the warmth of his release painting your walls. you tilt your head back and let out a breathy sigh. “shit.”

“no need to fret,” ran assures you with a knowing smile. “i’m sure that restaurant you like can fit me in for a last-minute reservation.”

the veiled innuendo is cause for a pout. you and him both know that dinner is the last thing on your mind.

heyoooo, it's sua :3 thank you for giving this a read! if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging and/or leaving a comment! much love from me to you ❤︎

#₊˚ପ⊹ signed: tokyo revengers #haitani ran x reader #ran x reader #tokrev x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #ran x you #tokrev x you #ran smut #tokrev smut #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers drabbles #tokyo revengers scenarios #tokyo revengers imagines

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ammonitetheseaserpent · 1 year

Text

*breaks down my own door* I’m BAAAACK-

New chapter time - also Operation: 3 TOTM Wednesdays In A Row is GO! Who’s ready to reach the finish line? I sure am!

Tide of Tied Minds

Chapter 4: If you see us in the daylight

Summary: The Collector is shown something they haven’t experienced in many millennia.

Chapter Word Count: 743

Trigger Warnings: out-of-body experience (you know the drill)

Back when he was visiting the Collector in their prison, they’d been nebulous, but had seemed fairly approachable. King had enjoyed their conversations, and a part of him had felt for them, cared about them - and while he still very much did, now there was something a bit different there, too.

It had been there since he’d seen the star child flick the moon aside with a finger, as if he were halfheartedly swatting a bug. It was a sense of wariness.

A sense of “I’d better not make this kid mad in any way.”

After a moment, King blinks his eyes open - at which point his train of thought careens into pure confusion.

A familiar, teal-marbled space makes up his surroundings, one he’d never expected to see again - and yet, here it is.

Wait, but… this place was-

A cry of despair rings though the void, jolting King into awareness with a startled “weh?”

He whirls around, overshooting the source of the noise, then tips his snout back around to see-

A massive, faceless figure, towering over a familiar being in space-speckled pajamas.

The Collector shouting, his confusion and pain felt as a physical force in King’s chest.

As the young Titan watches, there’s a flash of light, punctuated by the Collector’s panicked wail. The figure disappears like smoke, and when everything clears, King is able to see his friend - a shadow curled up in a nebula-like orb. The void seems to darken and distort a little, like someone putting a painting underwater, as if reflecting the Collector’s mood.

King debates what to do. The Collector can be unpredictable, and has the power to make that a dangerous thing - possibly even more so now that they’re in a vulnerable state.

Ultimately, though, he doesn’t hesitate for long before he finds himself ducking his head and floating toward the orb.

The Collector grazes their fingers against their prison, leaving bright white marks across its surface inside. It feels good. It’s the only thing they can touch, after all.

They float there, unable to grasp onto anything, a helpless ball of pain and bitterness and empty loneliness and other emotions in a knot that has nowhere to go, so it sucks out everything inside him like an endless black hole. A ball trapped inside another ball, colors inside it shifting lazily, slowly, mocking him, taunting him.

Their whole body feels weighted with his surroundings, all the wrongness in there. This is all wrong. They shouldn’t be here.

A flash of white and gray distracts the Collector from their overwhelming thoughts and feelings.

Floating there, slowly approaching the orb, is King. “Hey, there,” the small Titan says softly. “I, uh- I think I landed in a dream of yours,” he adds, turning his snout around slowly, taking everything in.

A feeling of relief fills the Collector’s chest and sits there with a grip, both at the appearance of his best friend and at the news that this is a dream.

“You… wanna get out of here?” King ventures. “Could- could I bring us to your mindscape?”

The star child winces. They could go there, theoretically, and then at least he wouldn’t have to be tortured with reliving one of his worst memories. Then again, his mindscape undoubtedly housed a bunch of other not-so-fun memories, and they’re not sure they want to see all those - or have King see all those. They trust the small Titan, but don’t know what might come from letting him see right into their mind, and they don’t want to find out. “I… I ‘unno,” the Collector murmurs finally.

King accepts this answer with a patient nod. He taps a claw to his chin, clearly thinking. “I’ve got a better idea - can you feel things through that bubble?”

“…probably? Not sure.”

“All right.”

As the Collector presses curiously up against the bubble, King floats closer with his furry arms outstretched. He presses into the bubble himself, his arms wrapped around it, around the Collector.

Something sweeps away the remaining knots of darkness weighing the child of the stars down. A warm feeling, one that brings peace and comfort. It’s… nice. For the first time in eons, they feel almost totally safe.

“King?” They whisper.

“Hm?” King tilts his snout a bit, not moving otherwise.

“…I’m really glad you found me.”

Their friend considers this, hesitating, then seems to smile under his skull. “Same here.”

#the owl house #the owl house au #toh au #tide of tied minds #the owl house fic #toh fic #toh the collector #the collector toh #the collector #toh king #king clawthorne #my jottins

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verstappensrealwife · 2 months

Note

would you be able to write about lance stroll? possibly a story where she is his childhood best friend and they end up together. Smut if possible!!

Beyond Friendship's Boundaries - Lance Stroll x Reader

smut.

approx. 1960 words.

warnings: oral (fem!recieving), awkwardness in the start, sex (p in v). --- Also my horrid smut writing (I am yet to write a smut fic that i think i wrote well!) Hope you enjoy anyways <3

lance stroll masterlist - here. f1 masterlist - here.

You and Lance had been inseparable since childhood, ever since that fateful day in kindergarten when his boundless energy collided with your unsuspecting form. As he barreled into you with the force of a tiny tornado, you found yourself sprawled on the ground, tears welling in your eyes. But even in that moment of chaos, Lance's instinctive kindness shone through as he scrambled to lift you up with all the might his pint-sized arms could muster.

"Sorry," he blurted out, his voice tinged with genuine concern.

With a sniffle and a shaky nod, you forgave him, wiping away the tears with the back of your hand. His infectious grin, inherited from his mother's insistence that it could brighten anyone's day, worked its magic once again as you found yourself mirroring his smile. From that day forward, a bond was forged between you two that would withstand the tests of time and tide.

In the present moment, he found himself thousands of miles away in Australia, while you remained in Canada. Alone in the confines of his hotel room, he sat on the edge of the bed, consumed by thoughts of you that strayed far from the innocent memories of childhood. With a conflicted mind and a restless urge, he grasped his cock in his hand, indulging in fantasies that danced on the edge of forbidden desire.

If only you knew the depths of his depraved thoughts, he reasoned, you might recoil in horror or sever ties altogether. But in that solitary moment, consumed by the need for release before the impending race, such considerations faded into insignificance. He whispered your name like a forbidden prayer, his imagination weaving a tapestry of carnal delights where your bodies entwined in passion, where your desires ignited a flame that threatened to consume them both.

As he surrendered to the waves of pleasure crashing over him, he couldn't help but yearn for your presence, for the touch of your skin against his, for the possibility that you might reciprocate the intensity of his longing. In the darkness of his solitude, he dared to dream of a world where your desires aligned, where the boundaries between friendship and something more blurred into obscurity. But for now, all he could do was chase the fleeting ecstasy of release, his fantasies a bittersweet reminder of the distance between them and the unspoken truths that lingered in the silence.

Unbeknownst to him, the object of his affection stood mere inches from his hotel door, her heart thrumming with anticipation as she prepared to surprise her closest friend.

"Lance~" Your cheerful voice called through the door, sending Lance into a whirlwind of panic. Why were you here? When had you arrived? And most importantly, where on earth were his pants!? With a frantic scramble, he attempted to cover himself, his heart racing with a mixture of excitement and trepidation.

As you swiped the card and entered the room, Lance's eyes widened in disbelief. He couldn't believe you were here, standing before him in the flesh. But before he could gather his wits or even properly greet you, your exclamation filled the room, cutting through the air like a knife.

You couldn't help but yelp in surprise as you laid eyes on him. There he stood, with his messy hair tousled in disarray, a rosy flush painting his cheeks, and no shirt to conceal the sculpted contours of his chest. Beneath the sheets that draped over his lower half, there was an air of tantalising mystery, hinting at the forbidden pleasures that lay hidden from view. Thankfully he had found his boxers before you had walked in.

Caught off guard by the unexpected sight, you felt a rush of heat flood your cheeks as your heart raced with a mixture of shock and embarrassment. It was a moment frozen in time, etched into your memory with vivid clarity, leaving you breathless and at a loss for words.

You stuttered out a few words, your voice wavering with uncertainty as you struggled to make sense of the unexpected scene before you. "Is this a bad time... I can leave," you managed to murmur, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

"No!" His response was swift, almost desperate, as if the mere thought of you leaving sent a jolt of panic coursing through him. He hesitated for a moment, the realisation of his own desperation dawning on him, before quickly composing himself. But deep down, he couldn't deny the truth: he was desperate for you, in more ways than one.

You stared at him, your eyes wide with surprise and uncertainty, unsure of how to proceed in this newfound tension. "N- Not a bad time... uhm..." he stammered, his words trailing off into an awkward silence as he searched for the right thing to say.

As the tension hung heavy in the air, a palpable electricity crackling between you, Lance's heart pounded with a mixture of desire and uncertainty. In that charged moment, he couldn't deny the raw attraction that pulsed between them, igniting a fire that threatened to consume them both.

With a hesitant step forward, he closed the distance between you, his gaze locking with yours in a silent plea for understanding. "I... I want you here," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper, laden with desire and longing.

Your breath caught in your throat at his admission, your own desires laid bare in the vulnerable space between you. In a bold move, you closed the remaining gap between you, your fingers trembling as they reached out to touch his bare chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips.

With a shared moment of unspoken consent, the floodgates of desire burst open, consuming them both in a whirlwind of passion and need. Lips met in a searing kiss, hungry and desperate, as years of unspoken longing erupted into a frenzy of desire.

Lost in the heat of the moment, Lance's hands roamed eagerly over your body, tracing every curve and contour as if committing them to memory. With each touch, each caress, the world fell away until there was only the two of you, lost in the throes of passion.

As the intensity of their desire reached its peak, they surrendered to the undeniable pull of their bodies, consumed by a hunger that could only be sated by each other. In that moment of blissful surrender, they knew that they had found something truly special, something worth fighting for amidst the chaos of their tangled emotions.

His movements were urgent, fueled by a hunger that threatened to consume them both as he pushed you gently onto the bed, his lips trailing a path of fire down your trembling body. Each kiss left a trail of tingling heat in its wake, igniting a blaze of desire that pulsed between you.

Reaching your legs, he knelt between your thighs, his breath catching in his throat at the sight beneath the dress you had worn just for him. His eyes drank in the sight of your exposed skin, the tantalising curve of your hips, and the promise of what lay hidden beneath.

"Fuck..." he mumbled, his voice husky with desire as he took in the sight before him. The realisation that you wore no underwear beneath the dress sent a surge of heat coursing through him, his heart pounding with anticipation.

His fingers trembled with longing as he reached for the hem of your dress, his touch gentle yet urgent as he pulled the fabric slowly upwards, revealing more of your intoxicating form with each passing moment. As the dress pooled around your waist, leaving you bare and vulnerable beneath him, he felt a primal need stir within him, urging him onward.

You could only moan in response, lost in a haze of pleasure and desire as his lips continued their journey, leaving a trail of kisses along your inner thighs. Your words dissolved into incoherent babbling, your mind consumed by the overwhelming sensations that pulsed through your body with each touch, each caress.

Never in your wildest dreams did you imagine this moment would come to fruition, yet it consumed your every waking thought, an unrelenting desire that pulsed through your veins with a fierce intensity.

As he pushed his fingers into you, the sensation sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body, igniting a fire that burned with an intensity you had never known. With each skilled movement, he found the perfect spot, sending sparks of ecstasy dancing along your nerve endings.

His mouth followed, hot and hungry against your skin, eliciting a guttural moan of pleasure from deep within your throat. The sound echoed off the walls of the room, mingling with curses and cries of ecstasy as you surrendered yourself to the overwhelming tide of sensation.

He pulled two earth-shattering orgasms from you with his skilled touch before finally entering you, the culmination of desire and passion reaching its peak. Position after position, they explored the depths of pleasure together, lost in a whirlwind of sensation and ecstasy that seemed to stretch into eternity.

For almost an hour, they moved as one, bodies entwined in a dance of primal desire. With each thrust, his dick found its mark, sending waves of pleasure crashing over you with every movement. It was a symphony of sensation, a crescendo of pleasure that built with each passing moment.

Despite his best efforts to prolong the inevitable, he could only resist for so long before the overwhelming tide of pleasure threatened to consume him. With a primal groan of ecstasy, he pulled out at the last moment, spilling his release over you in a cascade of pure bliss.

In the aftermath of their passionate encounter, they lay entwined in a tangle of limbs, their bodies still humming with the echoes of pleasure. With gentle caresses and soft whispers, they reassured each other of their mutual affection, basking in the warmth of their shared intimacy.

As they lay together in the quiet aftermath of their lovemaking, a sense of anticipation hung in the air, unspoken words lingering on the tip of their tongues. Lance shifted slightly, his fingers tracing absentminded patterns along your arm as he mustered the courage to broach the subject that had been weighing on his mind.

"Hey," he began softly, his voice tinged with a hint of uncertainty, "can we talk about... us?"

You turned to him, meeting his gaze with a mixture of curiosity and warmth. "Of course," you replied, your heart fluttering with anticipation.

"I... I know we've always been friends," Lance started, his words hesitant as he struggled to articulate his feelings. "But after tonight, I can't help but wonder if there's something more between us."

Your breath caught in your throat at his confession, the air crackling with tension as you searched for the right words to respond. "I've thought about it too," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "What we have... it feels different now, doesn't it?"

Lance nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Yeah, it does," he agreed, his gaze softening as he looked at you. "And I don't want to risk losing what we have, but... I can't shake the feeling that there's something special between us."

You reached out, intertwining your fingers with his in a silent gesture of solidarity. "I feel it too," you confessed, your heart swelling with emotion. "And maybe... maybe we owe it to ourselves to see where this could go."

Lance's smile widened, a flicker of hope dancing in his eyes. "I'd like that," he replied, his voice filled with conviction. "To us, whatever that may be."

"To us," you echoed, a surge of excitement coursing through you as you leaned in to press a tender kiss to his lips. In that moment, you both knew that whatever the future held, you were in it together, bound by the unbreakable bond of friendship and the tantalising promise of something more.

el fin.

Hope the smut was good. I tried not to use cringe words, key word tried. anyway. probably gonna have 2-3 fics out today :)

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sophswritingthings · 5 months

Note

I Just binged your apothecary wife series (SO GOOD BTW) and hear me out

Mizu x reader, but reader is kinda similar in the sense that they pretend to be a man in public , OR fem presenting woman who knows how to fight. And basically them being a power couple

(Imagine reader has something like dual swords instead of a katana, or like something fun and cool) 👀👀

Also i want mizus gender so Bad

pairing: mizu x fem!warrior!reader

warning(s): swearing, blood, injury, uhhhh a little nsfw? I made it as sfw as I could with what my mind wanted to do

a/n: dude. you guys are so SMART. and yes, I want mizu's gender as well. i already am having thoughts about fuckin next halloween

summary: you had been mizu's dueling partner for years; and only recently had the two of you gotten together. you joined her on her quest to kill the three white men in japan. and you two are absolutely a power couple, ready to kick ass at all time—and your passion for one another grows day by day.

word count: 874 words / 4,710 characters

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

mizu came back up from her fight, covered in blood; severed limbs scattered around her. and there you were, her lovely partner, on the other side of the fight.

you were also drenched in blood, your hair tied back and a flower (which she had given you) tucked in your hair splotched with blood. you were wielding two swords in either of your hands, smiling at her.

she walked over to you, each step concise and filled with purpose. she gave you a quick kiss on the lips, making you drop your weapons at your sides. she always found it cute how you let your guard down so much with her.

“you still manage to look so beautiful, even like this,” she murmurs against your lips, brushing a hand through your dark hair.

“as are you,” you whisper, titling your head back to give her access to your neck. she takes the gesture happily, pressing soft kisses on your neck. it drew soft sighs and smiles from you.

“we need to get cleaned up.” she murmurs, dragging you down the cliff. you still wore a kimono, to which you tucked you swords under.

you still needed to be seen as a lady, to pass by. underneath that little facade was the ass kicking badass that mizu loved so much.

you stopped at the ocean, a small tide pool closed off by rocks. she was stood behind you, slowly removing your blood soaked kimono and dropping it to the sand.

you shivered as the cold wind brushed your skin. your partner was behind you, breathing in your presence, kissing and biting the skin of your neck.

it felt so damn good, little soft moans and sighs escaping your lips as she did so.

mizu chuckled against your neck, standing up straight. she pulled your hair down from its updo, doing the same with hers. she tugged off her own blood soaked clothes, taking your hand and leading you into the warm tide pool.

you hummed, sitting in your partners lap, your forehead pressed against hers. her fingertips gently caressed your waist.

you were so beautiful, like this. so kind and gentle on the outside of the that fighting persona; so sweet, so beautiful.

you had gone from being so serene and sweet to pissing her off.

you splashed water into her face, giggling as you did so.

she wiped the water from her eyes, opening those gorgeous blue eyes with an unimpressed expression. she raised an eyebrow, only slightly.

“I will kill you.” she hissed the words, but there was no truth behind those words. you knew what she said was bullshit, an empty threat.

she’d never lay a finger on you, well, not in that way, at least.

“ah, uh-huh, sure you will, my darling,” you giggle, wading backwards through the pool. “I would like to see your attempt.”

her expression changed with a smirk across her face now, her hair dripping wet as it felt on her face. the sight was one to behold.

mizu waded under the shallow water, grabbing your ankles and dragging you under with her.

you let out a little squeak of surprise, laughing as the bubbles floated to the surface.

the two of you popped up from the water again, your body now pinned against the rough rocks. her soaking wet body kept you pinned there; your wrists firmly in her hands.

you giggle, “how the tables turn, I see,” you murmur, gazing up at mizu with hungry eyes.

mizu didn’t say a word, brushing your hair behind your ear.

“uh.. mizu..?” you were getting worried from your partners silence, gazing back at her. she typically had some stupid thing to say in these kinds of situations.. but here she was, silent as the wind. “I-is everything okay?”

“I love you.”

those three little words left her mouth.

your eyes went wide, gazing back at her. she had never said anything like this, not to you, not to anyone. you weren’t sure she even said it to herself.

“I love you more than I think you could even phantom,” she whispered, leaning into the crook of your neck, kissing tenderly. her body pressed yours, drawing a soft moan right from your chest.

“I..” your voice trailed off, trying to return the passion in which your lover showed you. “I.. I love you too..”

you whispered the words. you were too wrapped up in the moment, with the ‘I love you’ and the way she were pressed up against you.

you could hear her whispering tiny little I love you’s in between passionate kisses. It was clear she meant it; and she was going to make that clear. wether it was with words or actions, it didn’t matter.

you loved her so much.

you would most likely follow her to the ends of the earth, if she asked. and you knew she would do the same for you.

you were devoted to one another. as partners, as lovers.

devoted to your love, to your passion. It wasn’t an obsession, a worship, one sided. you were equally devoted to one another; and that was clear from miles away.

she would tell you she loved you to her very last breath.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

a/n: mizu is the person to get so devoted to her lover that she dies protecting them and I need that. I need it now

#mizu x reader #mizu #mizu blue eye samurai #blue eyed samurai #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #fic request #new fic #request #ask #asked and answered

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uglypastels · 9 months

Text

Not Wholly Evil |IX| pirate!Eddie au [NSFW]

a/n we are getting so close to the endddd oh my god i am so excited and sad at the same time because i don't want this story to end as much as some of you, but I also cannot wait to share my next lil projects with you 🥰 thank you for all the support on the last chapter!

this chapter will include explicit scenes. Minors DO NOT Interact. 18+. if you have read the previous chapters but do/should not wish to consume this content, please read:

Chapter 9 (safe for work version)

Series Masterlist

word count: 13k

"semi dark fic" - READ the warnings:. (gun/sword)violence. blood. mention of severe wounds. minor character death. allusions to suicide. kidnapping. imprisonment. alcohol. open and deep sea. near-death experiences in water. men are pigs: mentions of non-con, but it does not actually occur. [in-dream] non-consensual behaviour. malnourishment and weight loss. paranoia. mention of poisoning. abuse. manhandling. lying. small wounds inflicted by fire. blackmail. binds and knifes. SMUT 18+ ONLY, MDNI - p in v sex. oral (f receiving). no condom (this isn't the 18th century. wrap it before you tap it). choking. thigh riding. jealous!eddie.

Chapter 9: Paragon

“Perhaps the wolf wasn't quite so dangerous as he pretended. Unfortunately, there was only one way to find out for sure——give him a little rope and see if he hung himself… And pray that he didn't tie her up with it instead.”

― Sabrina Jeffries, Dance of Seduction

He looked like he saw a ghost. And maybe he had. You didn’t feel like yourself, so who was to say if you were still alive? You had comprehended how you carried yourself back to the Hellfire. Standing in his room felt like you were looking down at yourself. Aware of everything around you but understanding none of it.

‘I thought you had left.’ He stepped into the room, leaving the door wide open. As he walked, you noticed he was clearing the way for you, allowing you to leave if you wanted to. His eyes were intently focused on yours and threaded lightly. Like any wrong move would cause you to disappear.

‘I wanted to,’ you admitted. You still wanted to. Your thoughts had screamed through the night for an escape. Yet, something tied you down to this ship and made you return.

‘Then why didn’t you?’ He came closer, and so did you. That string pulled at your ribs again, pulling you two closer. You had tried long enough to fight it to no avail. Whatever you thought you wanted did not compare to your subconscious need to be next to him.

‘I don’t know.’ Deep down, you knew the reason, but the time was not there yet to admit it. In your mind, you still despised everything about him, this ship, the crew, and, therefore, yourself for needing his touch as much as you did at this moment. It was weak to give in to him like you did.

The candle’s light fell upon him at angles that brought something new out in him or maybe revealed what had always been there. The signs of the wear and tear of a life at sea. He wasn’t hiding it any more, letting all that pain be visible, and he looked beautiful. You held back from reaching out and tracing the thin scar against his brow or the flawed line of his nose that must have been broken once. The longer you looked at him, the more you realised that you could look at him in this way forever.

And that scared you.

Munson walked past you to his desk, occupying himself with whatever he could reach. It would have been good for you to have something to focus on instead of him, but you stood in the middle of the room with nothing but him to clutch onto. Neither of you spoke, stuck in an awkward limbo, tiptoeing around one another to see who would be the first to step over that line. The line that had kept you, your heart, safe until now. You could impossibly predict what was to happen if it was crossed.

The ship creaked as the tide softly bounced off it. For the rest, it was uncharacteristically quiet on board.

‘Is the rest coming as well? Will we be departing soon?’ It was ridiculous to change the topic in this manner, but you simply did not know what else to say, and this barrier between you and him was dreadful. You could sense it in the middle, waiting for that catalyst to burst. And you wanted it to. Just how?

‘No, I doubt they realised I’ve gone.’ He finally turned back to face you, leaning against the desk, arms crossed, eyes on the ground. If he could just look at you—would that make things easier or that much harder?

‘Why did you? Leave the tavern, I mean.’ With your heart pounding in your throat, tightening your breath, you stepped toward him.

‘I noticed you were gone. Then I heard you had gone to the harbour with some man and I thought…. I grew worried.’

‘Why?’ You could not imagine him caring for you to go out, away from his crew and his festivities, to look for you.

‘I know what you’re thinking, and at first, yes, I was thinking about the money,’ he admitted, which took you aback. You took a step closer. ‘But then I—when I realised, or thought, that I had actually lost you, I thought about how I would never see you again, and I realised—’ his words faded as you took your final step towards, letting your chest press against his. He finally let his eyes meet yours.

‘Realised what?’ Considering your proximity and seclusion, you hadn’t meant to whisper, but it felt right.

‘That I was scared’ His breath was shaky as his eyes took all of you in. ‘Of loosing you.’

‘I was scared too.’ And maybe that is what kept you from leaving. The idea that if you would go, there was a possibility that you would never see him again, and it was enough to hollow out your entire being with dread. It felt wrong. But that gnawing in your chest stayed there the whole night, even when you had returned to the Hellfire, and it only left once you felt his fingers intertwine with yours. A flutter of a touch at the fingertips.

‘And? Are you still scared?’ He matched your hushed tone with his response. The question was simple on its surface, but only the facade for an obliterating iceberg was the truth.

‘No.’ Standing in front of him, feeling his breath on you, the warmth that radiated off him, his gentle touch on your skin, seeing the smile hiding in his features, you saw nothing to be scared of anymore. There was nothing to fear anymore. The voice in you that had screamed for help all those days was silenced for a final time when you leaned in to kiss him.

His lips were chapped, cheeks rough with scars and the light shadowy scruff of a beard. His touch was featherlight, as if he was scared to pursue it as if you were to break underneath him. It starkly contrasted the force he had pulled you in with hours before. The intensity had been dizzying, and yet this was what genuinely shut your mind down entirely. But you could tell that he was not there yet wholly. Something kept him guarded.

You pulled away, but your lips still shared the same breath. When you opened your eyes, you were met with his and how they were shaking with uncertainty as he took all of you in.

‘Is there something you’re still afraid of?’ you asked.

‘Many things,’ his hand found its place on your waist, ‘but mostly of myself,’ and gently pushed you away. ‘And what I will do to you. I have made so many mistakes, mistakes that hurt you, already in that I will have to live it for my eternity, but I do not know what I will do if I make one again.’

There was silence as you took in his words. You understood them, possibly more than anyone could, for they were yours. As your lips met, you thought if what you were doing would lead to your doom, if it would all end in a disaster, but could something that felt so right be so devastating?

He had let his eyes fall to the ground. You reclaimed the one step he had made you take, closing the gap between you once more and letting your hand guide him to look up at you.

‘Do you think that kiss was a mistake?’ Your heart beat faster than it ever had as you waited for an answer, but his lips remained shut, so you continued. ‘If so, do not play with my heartstrings, but tell me, and I will leave. I will return to my cell, and you can lock me up and never see me again until you bring me back home.’ It would only be a couple of days, and it would hurt to mend this extremely fragile piece of you that you had just opened, but like all wounds do, it would heal eventually.

‘Answer me, captain.’ You kept your voice as steady as possible, regaining the confidence you had built up since you got onto the ship. ‘Was that a mistake?’

‘No.’ And with that one final word, you both leaned in for a kiss. Your hand was still on his cheek, his holding you tightly, but you still felt that urge to pull yourself closer to him. As you felt the press of his chest fully against yours, he actually pulled his lips away from yours. He hesitated but finally spoke against the corner of your mouth. ‘But… call me Eddie. Please.’

You couldn’t help but smile into your next kiss. Just like that, all that weight of the world fell off both your shoulders, down into the depths of the ocean, never to be seen again. You didn’t hold back with this newfound freedom when you pushed him up against the desk. The furniture shuffled with a creak over the floor, and you could hear some things topple over at the impact. Still, neither of you cared, too occupied with one another. He could just about manage to extend his hand and begin to push all the loose items off the desk to make space for himself. The papers flew around you, and all the measurement equipment clattered onto the crowd.

As the kiss intensified, Eddie shrugged and smoothly sat up on the desk, pulling you in with him. As he slowly let himself fall back, you followed, attached by the lips, hands, and hearts, until you practically lay on top, arms keeping you up from falling entirely onto him. Well, one hand, as the other found him and laced your fingers together once more. He had tried to make more space around you, pushing objects aside, when he cursed loudly.

You startled away and saw the clench in his jaw as he took a deep breath. He must have read your panic-stricken face as he showed you his hand. ‘It’s alright,’ his voice was calm, humour peaking through it. ‘I might have just put my hand right into the flame.’ And indeed, the side of his hand was glowing red.

Hearing this did not put your mind at rest as you tried to grab his hand and inspect the damage more deeply, but he pulled it away from you, instead taking your fingers in his and kissing your knuckles.

‘Don’t worry, my darling,’ he smiled while kissing your hand, ‘Can barely feel it.’

He had just made direct contact with fire; you doubted it would be alright, but then again, you had seen all the scars on his body. This would just be another small blister among the list of many. But you blinked the thought away. Tried your best to not think about the pain he had endured. You doubted he wanted you to feel pity for him and what had once happened to him.

The look in his eyes was adamant. He needed you to let it go, so all you could do was sigh.

‘You’ve gone mad.’

Eddie chuckled at your comment as he let his lips travel over your wrist, over the length of your arm. ‘As mad as any other sane man.’ His kisses moved over the material of your shirt. The lack of contact that was so clearly there shot sparks of anticipation through you, but he took his time taking you all in until his lips reached your collar. He had practically strained his neck to reach you from his position. Some of you wanted to back away to see how far he would follow you, but your weaker portion gave into his touch and melted over it.

He had just kissed your neck, sparking a fire through you on the spot, when a noise boomed over the silent ship, bursting you out of the solitary moment of bliss. In an instant, Eddie held you by the hips as he gently pushed you off him and got himself back on the ground. There was an alarm in his features, and so, when he looked at you and told you to “Stay here”, for once, you listened.

He closed the door behind him as he left to see what the noise was, and when minutes later, he had not returned, but there had also not been any more ruckus or signs of danger; you calmed down. Unsure of what to do now, you lay down on the bed. In the past few days, the bed had gotten more comfortable as you got used to it, but it still felt strange. You lay down on your side, facing the wall. The patterns in the wooden planks almost seemed to move in the shadowy light and, unfortunately for you, brought you into a trance of clarity and thoughts.

What were you doing? How could you have let all this happen? Kissing the man that had caused the death of so many people that you had deemed friends. How could you betray their souls by… by falling for him? You had lost control of all your feelings and emotions.

It was a trick of the sea. You had simply been captured on this ship for so long that you did not know what was wrong or right. How else could you explain the yearning feeling that still circulated through you? Why else did you wish he was still here with you, touching you?

With all these thoughts occupying your mind, you must have missed Eddie walking back into the room, mumbling something about how it had been a few of his crew that stumbled back up to the ship. Too busy with your own mind, you did not hear him calling your name softly, assuming you had fallen asleep and telling you good night. You did not hear how deflated the last words came from his mouth. You only caught the sound of the door closing behind him.

And soon you managed to turn all these thoughts off and fall asleep. Except then, they came back even stronger and in the form of dreams. You found yourself back on the Red Tail. The hawk flapped its wings on the flag in the wind and every man’s uniform. The sun shone brightly in its last few minutes before hiding behind the horizon. It was a strange illusion as you stared down at the ship and the two figures that stood out looking at the sparkling sea. You watched yourself talking to Admiral Carver.

‘I would have imagined you to have grown tired of the water by now,’ he laughed.

‘I won’t say I will be happy to return home, but I can’t ever see myself becoming tired of this view. It is beautiful.’ You leaned forward onto the balustrade and breathed in the salty air. ‘Besides, you have done this for much longer than I have, and you’re here too, so it can’t be that bad.’ It seemed it was only your first expedition while he had crossed the world several times. If anyone was to grow tired of it, you thought it would be him.

‘Perhaps you’re right,’ he had his arms behind his back, ‘but everything is more bearable when there is something back home to look forward to.’

‘I suppose so.’ You would not exactly know what he meant. Of course, you could not wait to see your father again, and your friends, but nothing at home gave you the sense that it genuinely anchored you there or drew your heart in for your return. ‘I am sure you miss your family very much.’

‘Yes, of course,’ He took a step closer to you, ‘but I will miss these moments.’

‘Oh,’ you were startled by his proximity, unsure how to respond. Politely, you smiled and tried to keep the conversation going, ‘I’ve enjoyed them too, uhmm-’, but you were suddenly thrown off-guard when you felt his hands on you. Before he had the chance to do anything, you were quick to push him off. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Taking our last chance before it’s too late.’ He leaned in again, and you stepped back.

‘What about your–’

‘She does not need to know.’ The sea was a free playing field for most men, so what happened out there was not up to the women at home to know. You had seen adultery but never thought the admiral would participate in such activities. He had been drinking; maybe he wasn’t thinking straight. Before he would make any more mistakes, you attempted to walk away, but he caught you by the arm, putting all his strength into the hold.

‘Admiral, you’re hurting me.’ You tried to pull your arm back, and this is where things began to change. Where the dream made itself apparent. Carver’s handsome features turned into vicious angles as he spoke.

‘So you’ll kiss Munson, but not me?’

‘What- what are you–’ you tried to get away, but it was as if he grew in size. And there were flashes. These flashes of light. Like lightning, there was no thunder, rain, or light. It blinded you, and you tried to regain your sight by blinking, but each time you did so, he seemed to change right in front of you.

There was him like you knew him, but the next second he turned into this nightmarish version of himself, but there were moments when he wasn’t himself at all. You’d blink, and suddenly you saw Captain Munson. Still in that uniform, however, you would try to make sense of it all. Still, before you could, he would disappear again, and you would be looking into Carver’s blank eyes, and you’d see the blood dripping from his mouth as he spat out his words.

‘Don’t trust him.’

‘What?’ You had tears in your eyes, and your wrist burned from his touch. There was another flash of light. Eddie stood before you again, just as you knew him.

‘Do not trust him.’

Don’t trust who? Who were you meant to trust, then? The questions rang through you as you woke up, head throbbing with pain, limbs sore and dehydrated. If you did not know any better, you would have blamed the rum you consumed the night before on everything, making you imagine all that had happened. Still, the sensation that Eddie had left on your whole body felt too real to be just a drunken dream or nightmare.

He was not in the cabin when you awoke, but you could hear him outside, yelling commands out. When you looked outside the window, you could tell by how the waves moved that you had departed the Saint Claire harbour and were on your way again.

You sat up in bed but remained still afterwards, uncertain what to do next. Some part of you wanted to go outside and see Eddie, talk to him about whatever it was that had happened that night. Still, a bigger side of you doubted you could ever look him in the eye again. Seeing your reflection from the glass doors of a cabinet in the room, of yourself in his bed, made you feel bad enough. So, staying in the room for the rest of the day was not an option either. You were already at the door, hand on the handle, when it opened, nearly crashing into you.

‘Sorry,’ his apology was muffled.

‘I was just on my way out,’ you muttered in the same awkward tone and walked past him.

‘Wait,’ Eddie reached for you, and the memory of your dream of Carver made you retract away from him, regretting it as soon as you did. Eddie wasn’t him, but you treated him the same because of something your exhausted mind had decided to conjure up. Eddie kept his distance. ‘Can we talk?’

‘Later,’ you pleaded. This was not the right time. You could tell that it would not end well if you stayed there.

But when would it be right? When would the stars align correctly for you to speak? It certainly wasn’t the next two days, as you kept walking in circles around eachother. You avoided him like the plague, and it was unlikely that he had not noticed yet.

You kept yourself occupied with anyone else but him, really. Talking to Robin, Steve, and anyone else who seemed to require company as much as you. Almost as much, at least. It shocked you as well as them how smoothly the conversations went. While only a little was exchanged, neither side being too keen on sharing too much of their past, somehow, you still managed to fill hours with polite pleasantries. Some even showed you how to work around the ship, probably more than happy to give you some of their workload now. You didn’t mind. It was alright if it stopped you from overthinking everything that had happened in the past weeks. But it was still hard to do when you felt Eddie’s eyes on you. He’d watch you work the sails or anything else from afar, but when you’d try and catch him, he’d be suddenly occupied with something and walk away.

The biggest surprise, however, came one evening when everyone had gathered for their final meal of the day. You had gotten your portion and were ready to return to the cabin when Robin pointed to the seat between her and Steve. You wanted to politely decline, feeling like you did not strictly belong in this dynamic—the crew’s meals felt more sacred, a moment for them to spend together, but they all saw your argument coming and shut it down.

‘Never thought I’d say this,’ Wheeler, one of the lankier crewmates, said at some point, ‘but I might actually miss you.’ There was a cloud of agreeable laughter to which you belonged. It was funny, but what scared you was that you would miss them too when that eventual day of your return home would come.

And it was coming.

Something about the air around you began to feel more familiar each day. And when you talked to Robin, you could sense that she knew how much time there was left. But each time you asked, she avoided answering straightforwardly.

‘Not sure. But you know how seatravels are, you can never be sure… I mean, we should have been there days ago and yet,’ she laughed nervously, tying knots in a piece of old rope that someone had cut off once.

‘I suppose you’re right.’ You had your own piece of rope and were toying with the frayed ends, pulling them apart mindlessly. You could hear Eddie talking to someone somewhere around, and you did your best not to look up. It had been days, but your tension still felt raw and strange. You wanted to simultaneously run into his arms and run away from him as far as possible, and you could not figure out which urge was the right one to follow.

‘It probably won’t take much longer, don’t worry.’ Robin said, her shoulder slumping as she untied another knot to remake it.

‘I’m not worried,’ you admitted.

‘No, and you don’t need to be,’ Robin panicked, not wanting to give you the wrong impression of what she had intended to say, ‘but I’m sure you’ll be glad to be home.’ To this, you had no response because, very much like in your last days on your old ship, you had been eagerly awaiting your return home but did not feel like you were actually happy to go back. On top of that, you actually had the sense that you would miss this crew. By leaving, you would be leaving something behind, and you had never felt that before.

But it still did not feel right. Like a kink in your neck that you were trying to stretch out until it disappeared.

‘Can I ask you something?’ you said cautiously.

Robin glanced up from her rope. ‘You always scare me when you say that.’

‘I hadn’t noticed I did it often.’

‘You’re quite inquisitive. It’s commendable, but dangerous.’

‘Should I be scared?’ You blinked.

‘Not here, but in other parts of the world they’re not too keen on it, so just beware.’ She had tied a knot she couldn’t loosen anymore. ‘But what was your question?’

You took a deep breath. ‘Why did you target the Red Tail? And I know it was targeted, since the captain was aware what ship you were attacking.’ There was that other puzzle piece that was missing in your brain. How would he know if you were supposed to be on that ship or not?

Robin froze and dropped her rope. You watched it fall to the ground and her reaching to pick it up clumsily. Once she did, she fumbled around even more with it. ‘I’m probably not the best person to ask this; I joined the crew late, I don’t know everything that’s going on around—’ she was getting distracted, losing the point of your question, or so you thought, ‘I had only heard things, but you have to know that people around here, we trust each other and that trust is earned. We might cheat once in a while in a game of cards or dice, but some things you just can’t lie about.

‘So, I didn’t need much convincing from the captain when he said that those— that those were bad men.’

‘He told you that my crew were bad men?’

‘They needed to be punished.’ Robin shrugged, but not in the way that made you think she thought indifferent. More so that, there was nothing she could do about it. It was a brief apology to you, not for what they had done, but as if she was sorry for being the bearer of the news.

‘Punished for what?’ you asked, but Robin shook her head. Right, she wouldn’t be able to know, and you didn’t blame her. Was there anyone around willing to share more of the specifics of this situation? You felt like you had the right to explain what had brought you to their ship, but it would go past some lines of comfort for the men. Could you dare ask Eddie?

But to ignore him for days just to come up with these questions could not be appreciated; then again, he owed you at least this after being the sole reason for your presence on this ship in the first place. He had caused all this mess. He could at least help you clean it up.

You finished your conversation with Robin slowly, without any urgency to actually put it to an end. It must have been confusing to Robin, who saw how you tried to tie your sentences up to walk away, just to disentangle them just as she had been doing with her rope and keep pulling it back. Ultimately, she stopped it all and excused herself from the argument she needed back on her lookout post. She walked away, giving you this look that made it clear to you that she knew what you were planning to do and how apprehensive you were to do it. And whatever for? You had fought, punched, slapped and kissed Eddie in the past days without hesitation; why could you not just talk to him now?

Because that would actually mean something to you. It would unblur all the lines that connected you into a clear pattern, and you would have to live with those results, and you just were not ready for that yet.

You took deep breaths as you walked up to the captain’s quarters. The door creaked as it slid open but was met with a resistant force as you collided with Eddie. He grunted lightly at the impact, and you began to apologise.

‘Sorry,’ you mumbled, not expecting him to be so close suddenly. You had hoped to catch him at his desk, where the furniture could keep some kind of barrier between you. Still, now he stood mere inches away, towering over you and the heat of his body radiating onto yours.

‘I was just on my way out.’ He scratched his beard casually, but his eyes said enough about how similarly he felt about your sudden appearance.

‘I hoped we could talk,’ you blurted out, and Eddie blinked.

‘Talk? Now?’ To this, you only nodded shyly. It had been too long. You had made him wait for days, which was simply too long. Why would he want to listen to what you had to say now? Eddie was ready to brush past you, but you were quicker, catching his arm and pulling eachother closer until your lips met in a chaste kiss. The suddenness stunned him, but for a blink of an eye before his muscles melted into position around you. It only confirmed your worst thoughts, how perfectly the two of you fit together, how your bodies simply locked into place with one another. The heat that grew between you could not only be felt by you. It was too strong for that. As much as you did not want to admit it, there was something there that you did not want to lose.

‘I’m sorry, ‘you said breathlessly, ‘for everything I’ve done in the past few days.’

‘You have done nothing to apologise for.’ He sighed.

‘Exactly,’ you jumped back at how loud you sounded. Still, his pull on your waist kept you close, ‘I have done nothing, while I should have stayed here with you, and we should have talked of, of whatever it is that stands between us, but—but I was scared. I thought I hadn’t been, but I was, and that, in turn, scared me even more, so I thought I needed time to think—’

‘And did you?’ He looked down at you inquisitively like he was observing a strange, yet highly fascinating, phenomenon in front of him. Something that he should not be enjoying as much as he was. The unwanted smirk appeared on his lips no matter how hard he tried to hide it. It made you aware of just how much you had tried to say in what short of an amount of time.

‘Yes,’ you said with a slow breath to help you calm down. At this, Eddie simply reacted with a gesture telling you to go on, to tell him what kind of discovery you had made. Would it be anything that could help your conundrum? Clear things up in your heads and maybe even hearts? You could not be sure, but it was a start if you just let those parts of you speak freely.

You took one more deep breath. ‘That night you asked me if I was scared, and I said “no”, but…’ you pushed past the shake of your voice. ‘But I realise now that that wasn’t the truth.’ As you announced this, the hand on your waist tightened its grip before leaving your body entirely. The immediate lack of contact made you regret your choice of words. Maybe you should have prepared what to say, but letting it come out unrehearsed and unplanned felt like the right thing to do. It would not cut out any of the emotions you felt. What you wanted him to know that you thought, so you stammered out your following words.

‘There is so much that I am scared of. It scares me how and how much I have changed in the past few days, and I am scared that I do not mind it. It scares me how much I enjoy being here and how much I want to be… with you.’ Your last words faded as you had not expected to hear yourself say them out loud. Eddie, who you had watched as he walked around the room in slow paces as he listened, must not have expected them, too, for he stopped to stare at you, dumbfounded.

‘Why?’ was the only thing he said in response.

‘Because…’ you let out an exasperated sigh, walking up to him. You had somehow managed to find yourselves at his throne, ‘because this is not who I am supposed to be. I shouldn’t be. You are you; I am me, and nothing here is right.’ Yet the puzzle had never fit tighter together than it did now. But at the same time… ‘As much as I want to spend my days with you, I cannot stop thinking about all the chaos you have caused in my life. Whether on purpose or not…There is blood on your hands, Eddie.’ there were tears in your eyes. Eddie looked down at his hands as if you had meant it literally. They were pale and had a shake to them, but he quickly put them down to his sides.

‘And yet you’re still here.’ He said it with a distance, more to himself than anyone else, narrating the events as if putting it all into words could make it make more sense somehow, and maybe to him, it did. However, you were still utterly clueless and running in the dark.

‘I am.’ You nodded your head lightly. ‘And I wish I could explain why. To you and to myself, but I simply do not know.’

‘Let me pose you these two questions then,’ he spoke sternly, and you got the unexpected feeling that this would be a test you had to ace. ‘Are you still scared of me? Do you regret anything that happened between us?

‘Answer yes to either of my questions,’ he held two fingers up, ‘and I will make all of this very easy for you and disappear. You will never have to see me again but be honest.’ Looking into his eyes the way you were, it was difficult to lie, or it would have been if you had any intention of doing so. The word came easier to you than anything else had in your life, but you still needed to know some things before sealing your fate.

‘Before I answer, I need to know your business with the admiral.’

Eddie scoffed, looking out the window, ‘I could not care less about the admiral.’ Something in him tensed up despite his attempt to make his reply come out casually. Everything besides his eyes, which flickered with so many emotions simultaneously, you could not distinguish between them soon enough.

‘But the attack on my ship was deliberate, was it not?’ You did not need this to become another one of your rows and spoke as carefully as you could manage. If one of you began to raise your voice or fill your words with anger, it would take over the other, exploding fatally in the middle, and that is not what you wanted.

‘What do you remember from that day?’ He looked at you, head cocked to the side as he studied your face. He saw you blink slowly, trying to understand what he was implying.

‘I remember everything.’ How could you not? It was one of the most terrifying days of your life. ‘I remember being on the deck and seeing your dark sails and how I hid under that desk as the canons went off–’

‘Whose canons?’ He stared at you blankly, and you mirrored him perfectly.

‘What?’

‘What canons did you hear go off? Who shot first?’ He did not say anything else, just stood still as you tried to reply with confidence that you lost as soon as you gave your answer some thought.

Everything had happened so quickly, and it was so loud. All you had tried was to block it out. But you heard the bangs. They came from all sides, but the first one... the first one was the closest.

Eddie must have seen the recognition on your face. ‘I know that those people were your friends. And I am sorry that that is how things-’

‘But you said I was not meant to be on board. You knew what ship it was.’ You cut him off at the memory. ‘You would have attacked either way, wouldn’t you?’

‘It is not that simple.’ He shook his head.

‘Isn’t it?’

‘No, and I wish I could explain, but I fear that whatever I tell you will only make you see the worst in me and them.’

‘You could at least try.’ You reached for his hand, and a bit of you leapt in relief when you saw he did not pull away. ‘I want to understand, Eddie. You do not know how horrible it is to live in this realm of uncertainty and oblivion.’

‘Would you rather live with the horrors of the truth?’ He asked genuinely, with the pain that exactly this truth had caused him in his eyes.

‘Is that not a choice I deserve to make by myself?’ You once again found yourself up against him. Funny how it always came back to this and how you would not have wanted it any other way.

‘You’ve said it yourself; I’ve hurt you enough times. I can not risk doing it again. I will not let myself do that.’ He brushed a strand of hair from your face, brushing his fingers over your cheek. ‘Now, will you please answer my questions?’

‘No,’ and with that, you answered both. Whatever tugged at you from the inside to feel such anxiety had nothing to do with Eddie.

On the contrary, you felt a sense of calm whenever you saw him. And you had wanted, really wanted, to regret those kisses, but you still dreamt of them at night, and it was all with a magical wonder that you wished to experience once more. Despite everything in your life that had led to this that would have told you to turn around and run away, you stayed firmly in your place in front of him with no intention of ever running away again.

Eddie leaned in, and you anticipated a kiss that never came as he spoke against the corner of your mouth, sending shivers down your spine. ‘I need you to say it, darling.’

‘I’m not scared of you, Eddie.’ The tremble in your voice had nothing to do with fear but all with the way he held you. His hand had moved down your cheek onto your neck, fingers wrapped around your throat, thumb caressing your jaw. His eyes pierced through you. ‘And I do not regret anything.’

You knew Eddie had seen all the far corners of the world. You must have come across the grandest of riches. Yet standing in front of him, you could not help but think how seeing Captain Eddie Munson beam his most genuine smile was the rarest and most beautiful treasure of them all. It was infectious; you could not help but smile at it.

He let himself come close again, but just as your lips were about to touch, he spoke instead. Right against you, the hot air of his breath pricked at your skin with his light laugh. ‘Before all of this, had you ever imagined yourself here with me?’

As much as you had wished it was not true, ‘I did, actually.’ Your mind flashed to your dreams, the ones you had once thought were conjured up to plague you, but now you realised it was just your heart screaming out your deepest desires.

Like a reward, Eddie kissed your cheek for your reply. ‘Really? The princess had thought of me, a filthy pirate?’

‘I’m not a princess.’ You rolled your eyes playfully.

‘Out of all the things to dispute, you argue my words of affection?’ He chuckled, and you could feel the vibrations deep within his chest.

‘There was nothing else to correct.’ You wanted to laugh but instead froze at the sensation of Eddie lightly putting pressure on your throat as he was still kissing pieces of your face. Just like that, everything in the past minutes disappeared from your mind. When he pulled away, you saw the mischievous glint in his eyes that once used to bring out fear of the worst in you.

‘Glad to know you haven’t changed too much, darling.’ With his hand around you, he gave you little choice but to look up at him. There was a moment in which both of you took everything of the other in. You tried to soak in all his features from this small distance, for some reason feeling the need to remember them all. Meanwhile, he read your face for any signs of reluctance, which he found none of. ‘You enjoyed that, didn’t you, princess?’

A question which brought a lot of enjoyment out of him.

Still taken aback by his actions, you stood there with your lips slightly parted, bewildered, so all you did was nod. And again, your response was rewarded with another kiss, finally letting you meet his lips while tightening his hold on you. The weak sound that came out of your mouth at the feeling was an instinct. You had never heard yourself make such a sound, and he must have known it somehow as his grin grew wider against you.

The kiss grew in strength by the fleeting second as you both lost control over your bodies, just letting them speak for themselves. It was messy and heated. The pent-up tension that had been sitting between you was finally finding its release. Eddie’s hands roamed over your body, almost in a hunger-like manner, devouring you with his touch alone. Maybe this hunger felt too real when Eddie’s teeth grazed over your neck, sending an unknown spark through your body at the sensation.

You held onto him tightly, one hand on his shoulder as the other rooted itself in his dark locks—which made you soon realise that the tiniest of motions of you caused a reaction in him as well, in the form of a low hiss as you pulled the hairs on the back of his neck. It had been an accident, as you tried to keep yourself up when the pleasure he brought you made you feel light as a feather.

Eddie hummed at your response as his hands continued their wandering path across your body. The pressure of his palms, combined with the slow and tantalising pace at which he moved, drove you to press your body eagerly against him, which, in turn, only spurred him on to continue down this track of your curves. His movements got rougher as he kept going.

With your urge to keep your bodies close, you quickly caught on Eddie walking backwards. You followed him mindlessly until he found his throne seat and pulled you along with him, right on top of his lap. At this proximity, you could feel all of him underneath you.

‘Tell me,’ he kissed you briefly between words, ‘have you ever been with a man before?’

‘Yes,’ you dared to reply with the truth. Anywhere else, it would have been considered a great shame, a sin of the highest degree, but with Eddie, somehow, you felt like he had wanted that to be your answer. You tried to focus on his face, that smile he shot up at you and the short answer you gave him, instead of how his hands roamed over your thighs. Even with the fabric of your trousers in between, his effect on you was immense. He must have felt how you tensed up when he reached your core.

‘Did anyone ever touch you like this?’

‘Uhm, no, not in this way.’ You struggled with the words as he let his fingers press over your most sensitive parts, everywhere all at once. You could barely keep track of it. Another moan escaped you as his hand moved over your breast. Even with the fabric keeping your modesty intact, he had still found a way for his fingers to move smoothly across your nipples. The feeling lulled you into comfort, brewing the heat inside your chest. And so, you gasped as, with one aggressive pull, Eddie ripped the material of your shirt in two, revealing you to him entirely. Your eyes were wide in shock as his darkened with want.

‘Not scared of me yet, are you, princess?’ His hand was on your ribs, waiting for permission to touch your bare skin.

‘No,’ your voice sounded like a hushed, airy whisper. Eddie smiled but still hesitated with his subsequent actions. As the shirt sleeve fell off your shoulder, he kissed you again. Except this time, his lips met your breast. The arch in your back, the tug of your hips towards him, was an almost mechanised reaction to it. And with it came the friction of his thigh against you.

‘Eddie.’ His name sounded shaky coming from you as you could barely inhale a steady breath, too occupied with him.

‘That’s right, princess.’ He groaned as his lips remained on your skin, kissing the valley of your chest. With each kiss, your want for him grew, but your movements over his thigh barely covered the needed friction. You dug your nails into his shoulders, making him groan out in pained pleasure. He cursed before taking you by the hips. ‘Stand up.’

You did as he asked, something that did not go unnoticed by either of you. Eddie chuckled as he looked up at you, chin on your stomach, lips nearly pressing against it, so close you could feel the vibrations of his voice.

‘So you can be good for me.’

A snide remark was already forming on the tip of your tongue, but Eddie was quicker. Smoothly, he pulled down your trousers and let them pool at your ankles. You stood in front of him in only your torn-up shirt. His large eyes were on you up until the moment his face made contact with your core, and at that moment, everything went black. You could just about make out that you held him close to you, pulling at his hair; as for the rest, the world was turning upside down and around at a speed that made everything seem like a sea full of stars. Your moans filled the room as his tongue licked through your slit.

You assumed that with how he held you with one hand, his fingers would leave marks for days, but the other was much lower. You could hear the sound of a belt unbuckling. He was clearly struggling to work around his clothes with only one hand, especially with most of him already preoccupied with you and your pleasure. Never before had you seen such kind of ferocity in a man. Not when he pulled himself closer to you and practically fell to his knees from the throne. You surely would have fallen back if it had not been for him and the desk that hit your legs and now acted as an extra grip. It was especially needed when Eddie pulled your leg over his shoulder, gaining even more access to you.

The desk kept sliding back with the force at which he held you in your place, grazing the floor, but it was all blocked out by your moans. They were filled with curses and the repetition of his name as your vision blurred with ecstasy and your body tightened with need. There was no possible way that the rest could not hear you through the thin walls of the cabin, but you could not care less about them. At this moment, they simply did not exist.

‘You taste absolutely divine.’ Eddie spoke while kissing your inner thigh, making your legs even weaker. You noticed his lips glistening, never looking more kissable than ever before.

He had run your mind through a mill; words were hard to come by. All you could muster out was a weak hum as you let your hand brush through his hair. At that, he nuzzled himself between your legs again, this time much gentler, and took his time kissing every inch of skin he had access to, giving you the time to catch your breath while still keeping you on that high edge.

‘I—I never…’ you still struggled to form a sentence.

‘Hmm,’ he kissed your stomach, ‘I know.’ And he slowly rose to his feet, catching your face in one more passionate kiss. You had gotten so used to how he tasted—rum, tobacco, sea air— that your flavour threw you off for a moment, but soon enough, you were sinking into him just as before. And again, you could hear the struggling twinkle of a locked belt buckle.

‘Would you be a doll,’ he said with his amusement running down your cheek, ‘and help a poor man out.’

You reached for his trousers, undoing the belt and unbuttoning them so they could drop down his thighs. You had felt it before, how aroused he had grown, but seeing it made you take a step back.

‘Nothing to be afraid of, darling.’ He grinned, placing a hand on your cheek. The other made itself comfortable between your legs, toying with your wetness.

‘I know.’ You looked into his eyes. The warmth of them had burned up into a dark and hungry desire. Putting a light pressure onto his shoulders, you pushed him back down into the chair. Eddie practically bounced in the seat, taking you all in as much as you took the moment to look at him. Your flicker of confidence in the moment when you thought you knew what you were doing fizzled, but he must have read that off of you, as the next second he was the one pulling you down.

‘Was this how you expected it to be,’ he murmured against your ear, ‘when you thought about us.’

‘No,’ you admitted. It was nothing like you had imagined. All your dreams had been of what you had thought he was; careless, dangerous, feeding off your fear. There had been none of this passion that you felt now. None of the heat, the tenderness or the feeling.

‘Anything you’d still like to change,’ he kissed the soft spot of skin behind your ear that made you shiver.

‘No,’ you gasped. You could feel him against you, just waiting for the moment to enter you. The two of you were dancing around it, letting other make that next move, the plunge off the cliff, with no return. You shuffled over his thighs. One more kiss would seal the final deal when you moved your hips up and he adjusted himself infront of you.

The moan you let out at the feeling of him inside you, of him stretching your walls and filling you whole, was impossible to miss. Ships from miles away could probably tell what was going on, but again, they were not a part of your universe in this moment. Just you. You concentrated at the pace he was making you keep up with. The roll of your hips against the grind of his. Each thrust went deeper and harder making Eddie more aggressive in the most blissful of ways. There was nothing else to think about, because why would you when this felt so good? Reality went lost on you, until you felt his fingers dig into your side, a pain rushing through you.

Both of you froze.

‘What’s wrong?’ Eddie immediately looked to where he had held you, pulling the remaining pieces of your shirt up to reveal the scar. The rough skin was a stark contrast to the rest of you. He met your eyes again. ‘Does it still hurt?’

‘It’s just sensitive.’ You wanted to push his hand away, cover the mark up again so neither of you had to be reminded of it. It had been a stupid mistake, that much you knew, and it was not as if you could change the past, so why let it pester you? But Eddie was not the kind to give up easily. He pushed the shirt material back up, keeping your hand away from him, to inspect the damage he had caused.

‘I’ve done a lot in my life that I will forever regret,’ he kissed your shoulder as his thumb traced over the scarred line, ‘but this will probably haunt me the longest.’ His words and touch, combined with how you sat in his lap, still full of him, got you lost for words. Because, of course, you had hoped that this was his sentiment, you understood and appreciated his words, but what else was there to say? The only thing you could think of replying, which felt silly to do seeing your current position, was ask for some clarification.

‘What happened? I would have thought you had more control over your sword than that.’ You aired the conversation with a bit of laughter, but it only spurred him on to thrust deeper into you.

‘I had thought so too,’ he kept moving his hips forcefully, ‘I had hoped so,’ he kissed you sloppily, ‘but I lost it all when I saw you with him.’

‘Who?’ you asked. Maybe under different circumstances, you could have thought more clearly to realise what he was speaking of, but that did not seem possible.

‘Harrington,’ the name came out of him with a bitter taste. Apparently, the feelings from that day had not disappeared as far as he had thought, but now he could let these frustrations out in a less hazardous manner. It still took a toll on you, but there was no pain to speak of. Just pure pleasure.

Still, the mention of the crew member had surprised you. ‘Why– why would you—’

‘The way he held you, smiled at you, don’t you think I had wanted to do that? From the moment I saw you—but all I did was drive you away. It was just another reminder of my failure and before I knew it I—’ he stopped himself, still unable to properly speak of what happened. You kissed the bridge of his nose.

‘For what it’s worth,’ you tugged at the words to come out cohesively, ‘I never thought of him as—’

‘It does not even matter what you think of him,’ he laughed, more so at himself, ‘You could fall for and by happy with any man on this earth and I could make my peace with it. I just don’t want to be the reason for your suffering.’

‘I think—’ a moan burst through your thought with another deep thrust, ‘I think you have managed to pay back any of your wrongdoings.’

‘Oh, darling, I haven’t even started to repay my debts.’ And so, Eddie kissed your neck, over and over, and with those kisses moved down to your brest. Your head rolled back with a soft whine at the attention he gave you, if not with his mouth, than the hand that kneaded your flesh and played with your nipples.

As he kept going, and as your hips met his and the pleasure burst through you, you could feel everything coming to a close. The tightness in your body swelled while your control over it strayed. There was no possible way you could hold on for much longer and from the looks of it, Eddie had no plans on making you wait. He bucked his hips into you harder and harder, almost impossibly for you to keep it all in. You could explode with this pleasure and that is exactly what he wanted.

‘Mmm c’mon, princess. Feel so good around me,’ he hummed, ‘could anyone make you feel this good?’

‘Just you,’ you moaned out, holding tightly on to him as you felt the tension build up in you.

‘That’s right,’ he had a smug smile across his face that you wished you could wipe off, and you would if you did not need him to keep doing whatever it was he did. Were his fingers back between your legs? Rubbing tight circles, sparking up your sensitivity. ‘Just me.’

‘Just you, Eddie,’ his named squeaked out from between your teeth when he reached the deepest part of you.

‘I’ll never get enough of you saying my name.’

‘Eddie,’ you repeated it in in a haze with his final thrusts that finally brought you over the edge. Stars fell over you in pleasure as Eddie slowed down his movements, letting you come down from the high. He held you tightly in his arms as you let your head fall on his shoulder until you fell into a comfortable silence. There was only the rush of the waves and your tired breaths that filled your ears.

Once your heart settled back to a steady pace, you knew it wasn’t safe. As good as this moment felt, it wouldn’t last. Whatever this was, there was no possibility in which it would outlive this voyage. Then, once it was over, it would hurt. That much you knew. Possibly more than anything had hurt before, and you would just have to be on the lookout for that end until then to let yourself become at peace with it. There wasn’t another choice, as this idea always stayed with you in the back of your head from that moment on. When you fell asleep in Eddie’s arms that night, you thought how many more days you got to wake to in such bliss as you did the next morning.

You could not tell if Eddie had these troubles, you could not tell, for he went through his following days much like before. The only difference was that his free minutes were now occupied with you.

It had not been your intention to make it so obvious to the crew, but there was also so little you could hide from them. Nothing could escape the dozens of interested eyes, so why hide your affection towards their captain? He certainly was not making any attempts. Any chance he got, he found himself at your side, holding you, kissing you, then behind closed doors, do all the other unspeakable things to you that made the others turn green of envy.

Your mornings and afternoons were much the same as they had been before the night of the storm and the Hellfire’s arrival at Saint Claire, as you still spent it in each other's company. The difference was now that instead of being separated by the large oak desk, Eddie would often pull you into his lap to sit in the throne, if not making himself comfortable with you on the bed. The nights began with kisses and limbs tangled with eachother and merged into a joined slumber. Unfortunately, as happy as your days felt, it would not stop the nightmares from coming, but each time you would awake in a cold sweat or with shaking hands, he would be right there to coax you back to peace. What surprised you, however, was that you would do the same to him.

Somehow, the thought of the notorious captain waking up screaming in the middle of the night, chest heaving, eyes wide with fear, had never occurred to you. You had never imagined him reaching for your thigh to ground himself as his reality spiralled in the dark.

‘Shh,’ you held him tightly, ‘it’s okay.’

Neither of you asked what the dreams were about, knowing you could do nothing about them. You could just help the other through it. And then, each time, the dreams that followed were much sweeter.

Then you’d wake up in each other’s arms long before the rest of the world seemed to. Those few blissful moments where nothing could disturb you and the time you could spend in that bed was endless.

Except it very much was not. And you realised it exactly through what you thought would be your escape.

It was a sunny morning. The golden sunrays illuminated the cabin as you reached for Eddie, just to find the side of the bed to be empty. Only his impression in the covers, the faint temperature his body had radiated onto them, was still there. It could not have been long since he had gotten up, and indeed, you caught him standing at the window—leaning against it, more like. His trousers were loose on his hips, and his shirt was still on the ground around you.

Grabbing that shirt and throwing it over your naked body, you walked over to him, and he looked in your direction as soon as he heard your footsteps. The smile in his eyes was genuine but weak. As soon as you were close enough, he pulled you into an embrace, twirling you around so your back would hit his chest and you could look out at the sea. With how the sunrays sparkled across the waves, it all felt like a dream, too good to be true, but you did not know yet that the dream was at the end of its tether.

‘I really am sorry,’ he mumbled, having his face already nuzzled in the crook of your neck, kissing the spot where it met your shoulder.

‘What for?’ Apologies had become a frequent appearance in his vocabulary, showing up in almost every conversation, if not sentence.

‘You know.’ Yes, you did know. For everything. He held a moment of silence, enjoying your presence in his arms for a little longer, before speaking again. ‘I just keep thinking about how everything between us happened, and if it had not been for me, we could have had more.’

‘I’m just as guilty.’ You had been stubborn, aggressive, and just as blind to your feelings.

‘Highly doubtful statement.’ He laughed, and his breath tickled the hairs on your neck.

‘I don’t think so.’ You shrugged in his hold.

‘Still just as stubborn, aren’t you, princess.’ He squeezed you tighter.

‘Is that not one of my most desirable attributes?’ You spun yourself around in his hold and quickly wrapped your arms around him. Doing so, hearing his tone and joy in his voice, you had expected to see him smiling, but he looked just as sombre as when you had walked up to him. ‘What’s wrong?’ Your hand mindlessly began to trace over the scars on his chest, knowing it brought comfort to both you and him by now.

Eddie shook his head, holding back a laugh. ‘You know…’ he kissed your forehead, ‘when I woke up, I saw you lying there, with the sun shining on your face, and you looked so peaceful, I had honesty considered just locking you away and keeping you forever, but I am a man of my word, am I not?’

‘I…don’t understand.’ You tried to see the meaning behind his words in his eyes, but there was nothing, and it only got harder to figure out when he held his forehead against yours, keeping you close. You still tried to make sense of what he said when you saw it. There, in the far back corner of your eye. So far, it could have been a play of light, and yet it was more real than anything. So undeniably real it crushed everything around you without question.

From the angle the ship stood at, that was as much as you could envision through the windows, and thus you ran out of the room. As much as you did not want to leave Eddie behind, knowing it could be one of the last moments the two of you had, you ran out onto the deck to meet the silhouette of mountains against the rising sun. The longer you looked at it, the clearer the details became. The ridges of the mountains, the forests, the watch towers and houses. The uniformed ships that stood in the harbour.

You knew this day was coming, you had been waiting for it, and yet, now that it was right there in front of you, you wished to be as far from it as possible. In what must have been shock, you took a couple of steps back just to collide with something—someone. You turned around to see Eddie and his soft but sad smile.

‘Welcome home,’ he announced.

Home, sweet home.

Your head turned between him and the land in the too-near distance, waiting for one of them to disappear, maybe even both. Why was this so difficult for your mind to comprehend? Why were the first words to come from your mouth, ‘Can we turn back?’

‘As much as I would want to,’ he sighed, ‘I’m sure they’ve noticed us by now.’ They must have. The watchers in those towers had the eyes of hawks, one of the reasons why your town was named after the bird.

‘So, what do we do?’ This is not how someone who is to be returning to their family after months spent with criminals was meant to respond. Everything about this was so wrong.

‘Go put your dress on.’ Eddie cocked his head back to the cabin. ‘I doubt they will appreciate you wearing this, as much as I adore it on you.’ That is when you realised you stood out on the main deck wearing only his shirt. ‘I’ll meet you in a few minutes.’ And with that, he gave you that look he had given you all those times before when you had been too headstrong in your own actions. Please, listen to me. It will be alright.

You walked back, feeling like you were floating, but not anywhere near the same way that you had the previous few days. It did not feel like you were weightless, on a cloud, free of worry or from the world. You were drifting. Far out into the abyss with nothing to hold on to. In this same state, you walked over to the wardrobe, where you had hung your dress, removed the item of clothing you had on and put on the old and tethered garment. It had once fit you like a glove, but you were far from the person it was measured for.

Just as you finished putting it on, the door opened, and Eddie walked in.

You didn’t want to look at him. Not because of anger, you had, after all, no reason to be angry at him at that moment, but because you were sure that if you looked into those brown irises again, you would break down. He must have had the same idea as you as he walked past you, only grabbing the nearest shirt off the rack, and making a headway to the desk.

‘What are you going to do now?’ After all, that had been what pulled you two together, the money your father would offer for your return. That is what kept you on this ship safe for as long as it did… although, in retrospect, you doubted that Eddie would have ever done anything to you. Maybe he had always intended to bring you home before even speaking to you. Perhaps the money made no difference. But funnily enough, you wanted him to get it. Something in you, a deep instinct, told you that it was what he deserved.

‘Write a random note,’ he said, and you could see he was doing his best not to laugh. ‘Then we’ll send the note out, hope it reaches your dearest, and we’ll make the exchange.’ His words were quick and emotionless, but you noted the hint of novice apprehension in his plan.

‘You’ve never done this before, have you?’ you asked as you made your way up to the chair across from him.

‘Try not to sound too disappointed over my lack of experience in selling beautiful maidens back to their prosperous fathers.’

‘Not at all,’ you shook your head, grabbing the piece of parchment and quill from him. ‘But let me. It will be proof of life, and besides, your handwriting is unrecognisable. He won’t be able to read any of it.’

Eddie stared at you blankly as you began writing.

Dear father,

But what were you to write? The ink dripped off the quill as you pondered on the words. For a message that was quite clear, it was hard to actually phrase it and write it out. By the time you had signed your name at the bottom of the page, the Hellfire had almost reached the coast. You read it through once more:

Dear Father,

I know it has been a long time since you last heard from me. The Red Tail is no more; I was the only survivor, to my knowledge, saved by a crew of rogue sailors. They have kept me locked away but are willing to free me for the price of 5.000 pounds. Please meet me at noon at the Star Port for the exchange.

Love,

Your daughter,

—

You had decided against the mention of piracy or anything specific about the ship’s sinking, knowing that it would only drive your father away from pain the ransom. Eddie had been unable to keep still while you wrote your drafts but now stood behind you, hands on the backrest of your chair, reading the note along with you, over your shoulder.

‘Who would have thought, my darling extorting her own father.’

‘I am doing no such thing!’ You looked up at him, ‘I am simply… aiding you in extorting my father.’ when it came to this, you had little sympathy for your father. He had plenty of money to spare and often spent it on ridiculous causes. A faux rescue of his only daughter could surely fit in between those other purchases.

There was a knock on the door, which Eddie welcomed, and Harrington walked in.

‘Got any mail for me to deliver, cap?’ it had been unanimously agreed that Harrington was the most inconspicuous of the whole crew and would be able to walk through the city unbothered to deliver the message.

You had just been in the middle of folding the parchment. The last thing left was to let the wax melt to keep the corners together. With the seal done, you handed Steve the letter. He smiled at you with thanks, but his face hid an expression of loss, almost. A farewell. But before he left, you clutched him in an embrace, almost knocking Steve over.

When the door closed behind him, it was only a matter of waiting. After your fifth round of pacing through the room, Eddie walked up in front of you, blocking your already quite well-outlined route. He had met you right in the middle.

‘I would prefer if you did not spend our last moments together walking holes into my carpet.’

‘You do not have a carpet,’ you quipped.

‘Must you be so difficult now?’ He laughed that laugh you cherished so much before he placed his hands on your cheeks and kissed you the way you adored even more. The sun was almost at its peak, and so was your heart, and you had no idea what to do when it would finally fall. Either way, you would find out in a few minutes.

‘Do you think—’

‘Highly doubtful,’ Eddie said somberly before you could even finish your thought. ‘You had said it yourself, darling; you are you, I am me. This is not meant to work.’ But what if it could, you wanted to shout, shocking yourself for the millionth time on board this ship.

‘Well, then it had been an honour being your captive, captain.’ You said with a deep breath to keep your composure up.

‘Oh, don’t look so sad just yet, princess, the real fun is only about to begin.’ At this statement, you blinked slowly. ‘Or did you think you were done aiding me?’

‘What else do you need me to do?’

‘Since you mentioned it, I think we need to make you look the part of my sweet captive. Make your father believe we really had kept you all good and locked up, hmm?’ He grinned. ‘I really did not do a good job at this, did I? Got you all spoiled up here.’

‘It was much appreciated.’ You giggled, incapable of keeping a straight face when Eddie got like this. Looking back, you could barely imagine the cold and dark exterior that he had once posed in front of you since he had been an entirely different person underneath that. Then again, so were you. ‘So, what did you have in mind?’

‘A lot,’ he licked his lips, ‘but I don’t think we have the time for that. We’ll probably have to do with tying you up like a pretty gift—just your hands, of course,’ he quickly added as he saw your eyes widen. ‘And I’ll be sure to not make it too tight.

‘Alright,’ you nodded. After all, you trusted him. You watched him look through the room for something to wrap around your hands. In the end, he found a piece of rope hanging among the many items on his wall. It was a bit too long for even the intricate, but relatively weak, knot he tied over your wrists—enough to give the impression of captivity, but in reality, barely grazed your wrists. He made sure to check.

And then it was time. You walked out of the cabin for the final time. The room in which you had spent so many tumultuous days and nights. A silly part of you wanted to actually run down the ladder into the lower deck to see the holding cell one last time. For what reason, you could not fathom.

Eddie guided you with a hand on your back, down the gangplank, which wobbled with every step you took. You tried to keep your breathing under control, but then again, if this had been a real threat to your life, you would probably feel similarly. The walk down the harbour was the longest of your life. There just came no end to it, and you could not, frustratingly enough, make your mind up if you wanted that or not. After all, each step closer to the port was one step further away from him… and when had you become so dependent on him? Weeks ago, you had thought up visions of killing him in his sleep; now, you could not think of life without him.

Your thoughts were still fighting for some kind of cohesion when you saw him walk down the street. Accompanied by his usual entourage of guards. Two of them carried a large trunk between them, which must have been filled with gold or other treasures to meet the demand.

‘Papa!’ You screamed out; an incautious urge to run towards him propelled you forward, just to be pulled back by Eddie. You glanced his way, and your breath hitched at what you saw. In the short amount of time that might have felt like an eternity that it took you to walk down the harbour, he had turned into what you could only describe as his old self. The same version of him that you had seen when you were “welcomed’ aboard the Hellfire. The Eddie that terrorised your nightmares. His eyes were pointed like daggers at your father.

He, in turn, stood aback at the sight of who had been holding you. Most of the men around him did, in fact. It caused a bit of a stir, the murmur of his name travelled in disbelief, but Eddie was the first to speak up in full volume.

‘Governor. I see we meet again.’

‘Munson.’ Your father always had the skill to look unimpressed at the sight of any man, always seeming to be above them, and even now, he did a good job hiding any other emotion, but you could see the crack of fear breaking him on the edges. It was, however, quickly replaced as he spoke in his usual tone of business.

‘Munson. What are you doing here?’

‘Why, returning your precious jewel, of course.’ He grinned, pulling you closer to him. Some of the guards leapt forward but were stopped by your father and Eddie, who reached for the knife at his side. All eyes were on you and him as he let the blade slowly track over your arm. ‘Don’t wanna do that, gents. It will only cost us more trouble.’

‘You got the gold, Munson, now let her go!’ There were still several feet between the two sides of the deal. Eddie looked around theatrically.

‘Do I?’ He cocked his head in his own direction. The two men in charge of the trunk hauled it over to you. You had no idea how Eddie was meant to carry it back to the ship. As they brought the gold over, your father spoke again.

‘Is she well? Unharmed?’

You nodded, but Eddie nudged you with the hilt of his knife, his lips against your ear, ‘C’mon, darling, the man’s asked you a question.’

‘I am fine, father.’ You spoke. By that point, the men reached you and, with a final kiss to your temple, Eddie let you go. You were immediately pulled out of his reach by the guards. They must have thought they were holding you up as your legs objected to moving. You were unable to look away from him. All up until you felt your face pressed against your father’s jacket.

‘There, there, it is alright,’ he hushed, and it took you a moment to realise why. You were crying. And if only he, or anyone else, understood that it was for all the opposite reasons. No fear or relief was escaping you through those tears. It was a loss as you saw Eddie standing there, bowing down at the end of his performance, blowing you a kiss goodbye.

It was the panic when you saw the rest of the people in the harbour. All of their eyes on you. On him. None of them were simple bystanders or civilians.

Your dream had been crumbling into ruin all these days, but this was the final blow. All of it came down, all at once, and it started with your father’s call.

‘Guards!’, and suddenly the tenfold of guards appeared out of all possible directions. They had him surrounded, weapons at the ready. Eddie had nowhere to run. Your father spoke clearly, cutting the silence with the blade of his words. ‘Munson, I arrest you on charges of murder and high treason!’

Chapter 10

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orbital-inclination · 1 year

Note

I requested more of the scenario Molt meeting og nightmare

I'm sorry for the wait anon! For a change of pace, you get a one-shot this time! word count: 3411 general content warning for canon typical violence and angst.

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

Something grainy, like gravel and sand, crunched under the soles of his boots as he shuffled back a step. One looping tendril made contact with a roughly cut boulder behind him. The height of the stone reached his hip. Clumsily, he ran his phalanges along its surface. He stepped around it and stopped once he stood on the south side, uncertain of how to proceed from there.

It was rare that he found himself in a space so wide open without someone nearby. He’d like to think he was better at navigating now than he had been when he was younger. Yet, regardless of how much time passed, he could never seem to quite outgrow the sudden spike of anxiety he felt whenever he entered a space that seemed... empty.

He didn’t know what he was walking towards or away from. He could be approaching a canyon for all he knew.

A steady, lonely wind howled above him. It caught the tail of his tunic and the fabric slapped against his side. Something rustled in the distance.

The wind turned cold.

Ley lines of magic, negative and positive, wrapped around this world in a vast net of ever-shifting ripe tides. Instinct had directed him to follow the nearest positive swell but now he felt it move again. Bending as though to make way. Just as suddenly as the air had turned cold, a well opened up, and negativity cascaded down the pit and condensed into a single point of black frost.

A shiver ran down his spine. “Nightmare…?”

Something about Rem’s magic didn’t feel right—

“How unlike you to make the first move. Was it not enough for you to…” his brother’s voice trailed off. “You are not my brother.”

No... no he was not. Rem’s magic felt cold, but not this cold. Though, the undercurrent of bitterness was painfully familiar.

“… the sentiment is mutual,” Molt murmured. He steadied himself on the boulder behind him. Silently, he tried to gauge the other’s intent.

An air of suspicion and curiosity rolled underneath the cold. He had the sense he was also being appraised.

“And yet, you are Dream.”

He did not sound—did not feel happy about that.

“If it were not impossible, I would wager you were from a divergent timeline.”

“Our world had only one timeline,” Molt confirmed cautiously. His voice remained low. “… it’s tied to the multiverse itself. No resets. Just the one.”

“Ah, so you are informed,” his brother's voice mocked. “Your presence here suggests a paradox, then. For all my searching, I have never met another iteration of us who could breach the confines of their AU on their own. It seemed there was some law restricting the role of Guardian to Two.”

He nodded because that more or less described the situation back home. With a renewed sense of scrutiny, Nightmare said, “Can I assume then, that instead of your brother, you were the one who bit the apple?”

And Molt stalled. The question was so direct. It felt a bit like a verbal slap to the face.

Nightmare hummed. “I see. That expression you’re making... It makes sense for my alternative self to have other motives if you are like this yourself.” He heard the grin in his tone, even if he could not see it. “Tell me, Dream. What do you say to adding to that collection of yours?” He— he couldn’t be serious.

“In this multiverse, you have the opportunity to increase your power. If you collect the last apple from my brother, perhaps we can reach an agreement.”

His mouth felt suddenly dry. He had to consciously still his tentacles to keep them from lashing defensively.

“You… you want me to kill my counterpart.”

He struggled to wrap his mind around that. Less so the threat itself and more so that it was Nightmare who was asking him to do it. He felt sick.

His brother’s alternate rumbled a low laugh. “It would not be difficult for you. You dwarf him in raw power. I’m confident you could easily subdue him... Ah, but I see I cannot convince you. The thought distresses you. A pity.”

Gravel and sand crunched underfoot. The sound came quietly. “ … hmm just as I thought, you are blind.”

“...what are you doing?”

Nightmare was amused by the question. Dread washed over him. Nightmare had been speaking to him civilly until that point, and while this mirror of his brother gave off an ambient feeling of danger, he had not taken the feeling as seriously as he should have.

“I am considering what to do with you. Since it seems you are reluctant to cooperate. But you would be of a dull mind not to suspect that already. If you are anything like the thorn I have in my side now, I’m sure you will quickly surmise why I simply cannot let your existence go unchecked.”

Molt slowly shuffled a step back.

“… where do you think you will escape to? Are you even aware of what is behind you?”

Molt froze.

He sensed no one behind him but— the subtle rustle of fabric. A step was taken closer and it dawned on him that Nightmare had been trying to distract him.

Molt’s hearing was keen. It had to be. He learned to rely on it when sensing nearby emotions, and the flow of positive and negative wasn’t enough. But his haptic memory was better, and with one tentacle brushing against the boulder behind him, he knew which side he stood on and which direction he originally came from.

He darted around the boulder, squarely placing it between himself and Nightmare. His brother’s alternate self stood still, contemplative and mildly surprised.

“Hm. You cannot see, and yet you are able to pinpoint my position. Interesting.”

Molt didn’t feel like providing a reply.

Nightmare didn’t move for a width of time that felt like years. And then, he vanished. The cold sucked out of the air in a blip of distorted space-time.

Alarm seized him. Given no time to think, he picked direction and distance at random and took a shortcut through. As he felt his bones materialize in reality again, a dense frame of cold magic solidified where he had stood seconds prior.

Displeasure radiated off of Nightmare in waves. “Come now. Don’t run. It’s unbecoming. We can discuss the terms of your departure from this world with maturity.”

Molt shivered. “Don’t. I would return to my reality if I knew how.”

“Then allow me to assist you,” Nightmare said, and the malice in his words sent needles crawling up his spine. He vanished again in a wash of cold. Molt leaped back, grasping at the nearest tide of positivity to carry him away.

He found his feet again on the sand. The sudden incline made him stumble. The seconds it took to catch his balance nearly cost him. A frustrated growl and the sensation of ice to his right was the only warning he had before a sharp object whistled past his skull. He teleported again and Nightmare followed.

“Enough! Cease this childishness.” The burning cold struck his side. Molt tumbled to the ground. He rolled, gasping in pain, and launched himself to the side. “Stop! I don’t want to fight you.” A loud crack sounded where he’d just been. Gravel pelted his arm.

“Then what happens next is your own fault,” His brother’s voice snarled.

He took another shortcut. Aiming north of the dense vortex of cold desperately trying to put some distance between himself and his brother’s counterpart. He needed that distance to escape this AU. If he attempted the jump too close to Nightmare he might unintentionally drag him along, or Nightmare would be able to sense where he went and this fight would never end. The temperature plummeted. In a split second, a cold tendril snapped around his middle. And then he was flung. His body hit the ground once, twice, and his skull was knocked against something hard.

A hiss shuddered through his ribcage. Molt clenched his teeth as the world spun, attempting to swallow back the sound.

“You brought this on yourself, Dream.”

Gravel and sand crunched at a steady pace. Malice approached slowly.

He struggled to push himself upright. The ground beneath him swayed dangerously. His tendrils lashed, writhing in defense of their host. But the ground beneath him lurched, his arms buckled, and the ground swung up to meet the side of his skull again.

His soul pulsed so fast and hard in his chest, he thought he was going to be sick.

“Poetic, isn’t it? I wonder... did the same desperation drive you?”

Cold wrapped around him and slammed his back into a hard, stone wall.

Claws dug into his jaw, roughly pinning his skull to the stone slab behind him. A strained hiss tore from his bared teeth. He found the strength to wrestle one arm free and dug his claws into the wrist pinning his head down. Nightmare’s strength didn’t waver, but an involuntary noise rattled through him, a jolt that was close enough to a flinch to be nothing else.

Faintly, Molt felt the phantom echo of a hot brand race up Nightmare’s arm, starting from where his claws dug into his wrist.

“W-why are you doing this? I am not from your timeline, so why?”

“The distinction is irrelevant,” the grip on his jaw tightened. “This fate, it’s the least you deserve. For everything you put me through. For every day I was left to defend myself while you selfishly basked in undeserved praise.”

Exhaustion crept into his limbs. He felt weaker and heavier by the second.

“Would you have always resented me?” Molt gasped out. “If things had been different... If our lives had been better—”

Nightmare barked out a bitter laugh. “Even as you are now, you are naive. No. I cannot imagine a world where I did not hate you. For us, no other outcome was possible.” Molt flinched. “... you doubt me? Do you actually believe my alternate self doesn’t resent you?”

The knife in his heart gave a sharp lurch. It would make sense... wouldn’t it. For all he hadn’t done, who wouldn’t resent him?

“N-Night...”

“You neglected your responsibilities, Dream. You were selfish. I’ve always wondered if you had known what I stood to lose that day. If you had known what they had planned to do—” “Nightmare!” Molt snapped. He was terrified, his soul shook, and he was painfully cold. “That was my home too!” Something snapped. He felt the abrupt, quaking shift in Nightmare’s demeanor. Rage colored all rational thought. Molt didn’t know what he intended to do and he didn’t have time to think about it. That rage solidified into a single, sharp tool. Malice soaked the thing so vividly, he could almost see it. A serrated bone dagger.

Molt jerked his head to the side, the claws on his jaw slipped, and something sharp and blisteringly cold scraped the side of his skull.

He might have blacked out for a few seconds. He couldn’t be sure. One moment, his vision was black. Then it was white. He’d yanked a tentacle free in the next. A resounding crack thundered through the stone lab behind him. Nightmare’s grip on his head slipped, caught off guard. Molt kicked his shin, and as Nightmare staggered, snarling, he flash-stepped out of immediate reach.

A safe distance away he sank to the ground.

Head swimming, he lifted a shaky hand to the side of his skull. He felt bone. The dry, clean surface of a malar bone. The muddy, blurred shape of his palm swam in and out of focus.

Nightmare stood very still for a long moment. His emotions felt stunted and Molt could not identify the feeling that had rendered him so still. Moments ago, Nightmare had been content to hurt him in every possible way.

“Get up,” Nightmare said. And he couldn’t identify the emotion behind that command either. It felt like anger but brittle. “I said get up!”

A tremble racked through his body. He felt a forbidden spark of anger ignite in his throat and shakily rose to his feet.

As he slowly lifted his gaze, palm still pressed to the side of his skull, he saw black tar and went still.

It was one thing to guess the shape of the magic that had tossed him around the field like a rag doll, but it was another thing entirely, to see it.

The ground felt like it was tilting. Nightmare was taking too long to respond. And though he hid it well, he was clearly in pain. Head swimming. Pounding. Red-hot needles. Nausea pricked through his brother’s bones.

Nightmare took one step closer. Molt flinched back, and a bitter smile crawled over his brother’s teeth—

“NOT SO FAST!”

A sharp ping. His vision was eclipsed in hazy blue. Before Molt could blink, he found himself yanked to the side, several feet away.

He was released, gently at that, and stumbled once as gravity resumed its normal weight. The world erupted in a cacophony of noise. With color and light sloshing together, it was difficult to make out shape and form, but the stirring magic immediately in front of him was familiar.

“Blue?” Molt whispered, but like Nightmare his magic felt just slightly off. The hope in his soul withered. He was surrounded by strangers.

“MWEH HEH HEH FEAR NOT STRANGE INTERDIMENSIONAL CITIZEN! WE ARE HERE TO SAVE THE DAY. NIGHTMARE! YOU WILL NOT GET AWAY WITH THIS!”

Whatever his brother’s mirror said in reply it was drowned out by noise.

“Wait.”

But his voice was too low. Too quiet. And his plea went ignored.

Too much happened at once after that. The Swap Sans launched himself into the fight. Light. Movement. A flash of white. Bones summoned then shattered by the furious sweep of a black arm. Nightmare’s strength was weakening. The balance had tipped. And battling three by himself? Nightmare couldn’t keep this up for much longer.

Most of the fight happened too fast for his barely stable eyelight to track.

So he did what he always did when the world around him became too chaotic to follow. He reached for the cold pitch of his brother’s magic.

He followed the current of cold as it funneled into a singular point. Pushed back, and back again by a burning white star. Hope. Concentration. Concern for the other, yet the courage to see his actions through to the end. The familiarity of the magic here was disconcerting. But his head already ached something awful and he didn't think his nausea could get much worse. The phantom lashes he’d endured at Nightmare’s hand still burned. But... Nightmare. He felt his twin’s exhaustion, felt the unsteady slip to his heel, and his alternate was closing in now and—

The shortcut was rough. Poorly executed. And finding his balance on the balls of his feet was not fun. He raised his arm defensively, anticipating the attack seconds before, and found his hand closing around the pole of a golden staff. It smacked into his palm with a solid clank. It hurt only a little bit. His own magic absorbed the brunt of the blow to feed itself. To lessen some of his own pain. And staring into the wide eyes of his own face was...

Dizzying.

Everything was dizzying.

That startled look melted into one of fear, and it didn’t make sense. His own rib cage hitched, sharing that fear second hand and then it dawned on him how this might look. Oh. He thought. …oh.

He released his counterpart's weapon and yanked his hand back. The other skeleton flash stepped out of reach, his soul pulsing with the rhythm of a terrified rabbit.

Within the pool of frigid cold at his back, he felt a spark of something that felt suspiciously like gratitude. Nightmare struggled to stand for a moment, winded, then laughed. The sound was not pleasant. “Recklessness must be a universal trait.”

“That’s enough,” Molt rasped. “Please. Just stop…”

“You should have taken my offer when you had the chance,” Nightmare sneered, words bitting. But more than anything, they felt defensive. The darkness pinched into a small, black star, and then he was gone.

“I SEE. WAS I MISTAKEN THEN? ARE YOU AND NIGHTMARE ALLIES?” Blue had taken a defensive stance beside his teammate. His weapon was drawn, but he didn’t move yet. His soul hummed with grim focus. The suspicion hurt.

Molt struggled to speak for several precious seconds. Unsettled. He was reeling from the fight, from everything he had learned about this reality and the cruelty of his brother's words and actions and he was trying ever so hard not to let a tremble snake its way into his voice. It was very hard... to hear someone say those awful things in Rem’s voice.

He shook his head and said softly. “We aren’t.”

Blue’s brow furrowed. “THEN, WHY DID YOU DEFEND HIM?

The words ‘because he is my brother?’ were on the edge of his teeth but the hostile edge to Blue’s magic and tone made him pause. It was less a question and more of an accusation. And that answer wouldn’t have been exactly true besides.

The tendril on his back coiled defensively.

He hadn’t stopped to think before he leapt in front of Nightmare. It hadn’t been a “should I or shouldn’t I” situation in his mind. In that moment he was unable to look past the pain and hurt his brother’s mirror was experiencing. In that moment, the distinction didn’t matter. He had to put a stop to it, that’s all. He couldn’t fight his brother. In any form he took. He just couldn’t do it. It reminded him of too much. And he couldn’t stand to watch that either.

But how could he possibly explain that?

A step behind his teammate, Dream was trying to calm down. Blue’s presence helped but he was struggling. Molt took a step back. He was causing someone pain and distress. He didn’t want that. Blue’s stance shifted. Bracing.

That felt like betrayal too. Molt swallowed something bitter behind his teeth and tried not to think of it that way. Ignored that small part of him that hissed and felt a little bit angry. It didn’t make sense. He knew the person in front of him wasn’t his friend.

“FRIEND, I WANT TO GIVE YOU THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT BUT... YOU ARE ACTING SUSPICIOUSLY.”

“I’ll leave,” Molt said. His head was pounding, and the last thing he wanted was to be dragged into another fight. “Wait...” Dream took a breath. “You’re hurt. Stay for a minute, let’s talk.” “DREAM IS RIGHT, POTENTIAL ENEMY OR NOT, IT WOULDN’T BE RIGHT TO LEAVE YOU THIS WAY. NOT TO FEAR HOWEVER, I AM ALWAYS PREPARED!” “It’s okay. I don’t need candy,” Molt said and felt vaguely like he was reading the lines of a script. If Rem or any of the others were here, they’d be calling his bluff. “Then, what do you need?”

“Somewhere calm, with hope. That’s all.”

The two exchanged a look. Surprise, suspicion, resignation, dread. “I SEE. SO YOU ARE LIKE DREAM THEN. BUT SURELY THAT'S NOT ENOUGH. I... I CANNOT SEEM TO CHECK YOU FOR SOME REASON, BUT YOU DO NOT LOOK WELL.”

Blue seemed to ask to Dream something silently. Concern. Suspicion. Acceptance. Dream sighed. “I know somewhere. It’ll be okay. We’ll be keeping an eye on him together, right? The place I’m thinking of is isolated so...”

“IT’S SETTLED THEN.” he finally dismissed his weapon, and Molt felt the tendrils on his back slowly lower. “SO THEN, NEW FRIEND, WHAT DO YOU SAY TO A TRUCE? WILL YOU COME WITH US?”

He gauged their intent for a moment. Rem had sometimes remarked that his empathy made him gullible. But Molt was tired, and sore, and aching. The others weren’t here. And he let them make decisions for him too much anyway. He hated to admit it but Nightmare was right. Dream wasn’t a physical threat to him. He was scared and trying so hard to be brave, and Molt was trying equally hard not to feel rattled.

“Okay,” he said.

Blue made a noise, something between acknowledgment and mild confusion. Dream offered a strained smile. He supposed they had a lot of questions.

#orbital chatter #moltendreams!au #molten!dream #nightmare!sans #nightmare sans #OG Nightmare meeting Molten!Dream situation but its longer #it doesnt go well #ink arriving late w/ starbucks: so what did i miss?#everyone is gone #ink: wow so alot #one shot

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