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#1 & 2 - Very bright pretty looking sky !

coeurify · 1 year

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THE PERFECT PAIR;

ELLIE WILLIAMS

·˚ ༘ * “if I told you, you'd know how to go break my heart in two."

pairing: bff!ellie williams x fem!reader . college au. summary: you and your childhood best friend ellie have always done everything together, but things & feelings are starting to change. part 1 of _. slightly based on. and the song the perfect pair by beabadoobee. part 2 here warnings: whole series: lotsss of pining, angst, fluff etc. references to drinking, smoking etc. smut in future. just lots of exposition & fluff in this one. wc 4.3k

There was something you missed about childhood. A bottomless pit of nostalgia rises in your throat whenever the air smelt a little fresh, whenever you hear the songs of the morning birds. Nothing was quite the same as that anymore, the sky was never as blue as it had been through your twelve-year-old eyes, and the flowers never smelt as sweet as they did outside your childhood home during the summer. You often were told you cling too tightly to it, onto the feeling that everyone loses when they grow past the age of sleepovers and elementary homework. But how couldn’t you?

You were sure no year could compete with those ones, especially sixth grade, and you claimed this every chance you got. Even now, head hung out the passenger seat window of your best friend’s car, wind pressing against your face gently as you pulled into the parking lot of your university dormitories.

“It smells like sixth grade,” you hum, eyes pressing closed as you try to picture the colors you swore only were bright in childhood. “What does that even fucking mean? B.O. and bath and body works perfume?” a voice came beside you, a chuckle following the statement. Your eyes shoot open, following the messy bun that shook as your friend laughed gently.

“Ellie,” you frown, “It smells sweet, you know? Reminds me of the air when we were kids.”

“Everything reminds you of middle school. Swear to god you're the only one who misses that place,” Ellie muttered, doing a pretty shit job of backing into a parking space near the dorm building. You would comment on it later, maybe take a picture to tease her with. For now, you focused on her words, a pout brushing your lips. “It was a good year! I miss it!”

“Rose-colored glasses,” El makes a dismissive motion with her hand, taking in your frown.

“I think you just say that 'cause it's when you met me,” your friend continues, looking very smug at the observation she constantly taunted you with.

Was it a little true? Maybe.

It had been the year you met when Ellie was still a lanky and loud-mouthed kid, unsure of how to act or dress. You had been no better, sitting alone at lunch tables, hiding behind your much too big flannel that was not at all the style of the other girls. When Ellie sat by you, a year older and wearing something just as awkward as you, a Savage Starlight shirt, looking just as out of place, well, it was love at first sight.

Love in a friendship way, of course, but love nonetheless. Those freckles that her face hadn’t quite grown into yet had become your favorite sight in middle school, green eyes that you searched for every time you bounced into the building.

A string had been tied between your two pinkies, and it never had once frayed. Not through the rest of middle school, not when Ellie tried soccer that year she left for high school and forgot to talk to you for a whole week— 13-year-old you was simply devastated— and not even when Ellie got her very first girlfriend in the tenth grade. She left soccer after the first month, her girlfriend broke up with her over text right before homecoming, and that thread led her right back to your pinky.

Of course, you were two teenage girls.. so you fought. She fought when you started skipping your Friday night movies to talk to a new friend when you were in the ninth grade. You fought when Ellie took a girl to prom in junior year and didn’t even tell you. The worst fight had been when she left for college, leaving you alone to face senior year in the small town of Jackson. Everything she did seemed to frustrate you that year, though you can now begrudgingly admit it was just because you missed her.

But all friends fight about things like that, right? In the end it was still the two of you. The nervous smiles of your middle school selves always found their way back to your faces, and always made you feel just as excited as you had been to meet. It was what led you to follow her to college. Now in your sophomore year and Ellie’s junior, not much has changed. You still had your Friday night movies— only now tucked into the small beds of your dorms.

So maybe Ellie was a little right. Perhaps she knew your mind a bit too well. Maybe you did love those years so much because they had been so filled with her. But you, of course, wouldn’t give her that satisfaction. “You're so full of yourself, Williams.”

Ellie flung the keyring around her fingers, shrugging again as she stepped out of her car. “Not full of myself, just right.”

The passenger side of her door creaked lightly when you pressed it, stuttering before you could really get it to push open . It was something that had started when you got too high once while visiting her after she started college, and you slammed it into a concrete wall. You refuse to acknowledge that's why her door sucks, but you both knew.

“Shut up,” you flip her off over the hood of the car, reaching below the seat up front to grab the bag stuffed full of clothes for the weekend drive. It was only the second week into the fall semester, but you and Ellie both found yourself craving a little time in the comfort of Jackson, hence the trip.

Ellie smiles in response, winking and grabbing her backpack. You start walking the path before she even locks the doors, hearing her trampling footsteps follow behind. “I was just joking,” the girl whined, eyes catching the side of your face as you looked straight ahead. You weren’t really mad, but you liked when Ellie apologized for her taunting. “You know, I think it's cute how… sentimental you are about that shit,” she knocks her shoulder into your own.

You feel your body tense lightly at the word cute, shrugging it off as you pull your favorite sweatshirt off your body, the early September air too thick for it. “Whatever,” you shake your head, nudging her back in a sign of acceptance.

“Gotta stop getting so worked up, peach.”

“Gotta stop calling me that,” you retort, eyes rolling at the nickname like you always did.

“I will when it stops being funny,” Ellie’s hand came to ruffle your hair, making your lips press together. You hated the peach story, and you hated when she messed up your hair even more.

“Swear one of these days I'm gonna bite you for doing that,” you puff, ID card slipping into the reader that opened the dorm door.

“I'm sure you’d bite me for a lot less,” she scoffs, thinking back to all of the times you had not so nicely bit at her for something like taking your food or roughhousing with you. She holds open the glass door for you to step inside the lobby. It's relatively quiet. A mid-Sunday afternoon meant most college students were tucked away in their rooms, probably studying or fighting a hangover. The AC of the common room welcomes you, painting your skin with goosebumps as you clutch your sweatshirt.

“Don't tempt me,” you joke, looking her up and down dramatically— like she was some meal. Ellie seems to shy away from your face, making a noise. “Shut up, biter.”

You pout at your friend, “You just don't get it.”

“I don't want to, dude.”

The response earns Ellie a slap at her arm, which she reacts too loudly at, watching as you flush and shush her. Ellie smiles and leads you to the elevator.

When you reach it, you pause momentarily, rocking on your heels.

“Maybe I should like— go get some food from the cafe or something,” you shrug, looking to avoid what was waiting in your dorm room. This was obvious to Ellie, who looked over at you with a slight sense of humor. She expected this reaction, just not as early as your tiptoes found the metal of the elevator door.

“Get in the elevator,” she shoo’s you inside, a hand against your back. “I swear she won't hurt you.”

The she that Ellie was referencing was your new roommate, Dina. She moved in late, meaning you had only seen her a few times before you left for the weekend. Most of that time had been spent sleeping, as you found yourself spending most free time in Ellie’s dorm to avoid her. It wasn’t that she didn't seem nice, because she did. You just weren’t the best with new people. It had taken you nearly a whole semester to get comfortable with your previous roommate.

“You don’t get it!” You pout, leaning against the cool surface of the wall. “You and Rose have been roommates since freshman year. I don’t know a thing about Dina. I mean fuck, maybe I should’ve stayed with Jade.”

Ellie quickly cut in at the mention of your old roommate, “Jade was a dick.”

Ellie's distaste for your former roommate was no secret, though you didn’t quite understand why she harbored such feelings. Sure, Jade was a little messy, and teased you sometimes. But she was always mostly kind to you, doing your makeup for parties.. inviting you to hang out. She even would hold your hand when you got too tipsy at events, pull you home to your dorm and shoo away everyone else, even El, to take care of you. But when Ellie told you she was bad news, to look for a new roommate— you didn’t question it much. She had been in Jade's year, after all, and probably knew better.

You spare a glance at her, watching how she looks away at the mention of Jade. It forced a swallow down your throat, suddenly feeling like you had just gripped a touchy subject by the neck and shoved it in her face. You couldn’t understand why it was so difficult to talk about, and you didn’t really want to. So instead, you sigh loudly when the elevator dings.

“What if she’s crazy? Like an axe murderer?” you begin to ramble, eyeing all the decorated doors that line the white hallway. Your door was only seven down from Ellie’s, you had counted, so you took in the numbers on each entry as you inched closer to your own. “If she was an axe murderer, wouldn’t she have already killed you?”

You groan loudly, finding comfort in picking at the seams of your bag’s strap. “You never know! Maybe it's a long game..”

Ellie’s hands find your shoulders, steering you from behind to be directly in front of the door with your and Dina’s name decorations on it. “You're fine, peach. Stop being a pussy.”

Your head flips back dramatically, landing on your best friend's shoulder. “If I die, it’s on you, ok?”

Ellie stiffens slightly, enough for you to notice, and enough for her to shove you off, but not enough to mention it. It never was. She mumbles a few ‘yea yea’s’ before waving you off and starting down the hallway to her own door, which your eyes follow right up until her hand finds the doorknob. She sends you one last look, nodding at you as another sign of encouragement. The staring session is long enough for you to swallow the forming lump in your throat and unlock your door, gently popping your head in.

The room is quiet and a bit warm— though you guess that's from the open window. At first, you think your roommate may not be here, but you find her soon enough. Dina is settled on her bed, earbuds tucked in her ears as she writes in some book, which you assume to be homework. The door clicking closed is enough to sound through the music humming in her ears, causing brown eyes to look up. Your stomach twists at the eye contact, nerves biting at your shaky hands. But Dina smiled like she had every other time you two interacted. A totally normal, non axe murderer smile.

“Hey! How was your trip?” she tucks the earbuds under her, turning the attention to you. You try your best to seem totally nonchalant, kicking your shoes off near your bed. Sitting over the plush comforter, a loud huff leaves your lips as you shrug. “Was ok, just a lot of driving.”

Ok. Small talk, you could do this. You could so do this. Mentally you pat your own back, thanking the stars above you had been blessed with a roommate who could carry a conversation. “Oh shit, that’s gotta be a long time in the car, huh? I think I’d die,” Dina shivered, “My weekend was spent cooped up, so I applaud you.”

“What’d you do?” you push, trying your very best to be social with the girl you would be living with for the following year. It only became easier to do when you imagined the look of approval from Ellie it would likely receive—a friendly sort, of course.

“Hm, just watched movies with my boyfriend. Studied, but personally I think it’s criminal how much work I already have to do,” Dina moves into a sitting position, beginning to rattle on about her classes. You listen, nodding along.

“It's two weeks into the semester, for fuck sake,” she finishes a few minutes later. It pulls an honest chuckle from you as you move your head in agreement. “Yea, I kinda shot myself in the leg choosing English major, all the essays,” you frown. “But god, my friend Ellie,” you can't help how easy it was to bring her up, “she’s got it bad. Physics major.”

Dina makes a sound through her teeth, shaking her head. “Tough,” her lips pull into a slight pout as she quickly switches back to the two of you. “Hey, at least we can suffer together..” the brunette grins, shrugging, “maybe we could have like study nights, throw on a shitty show and work on classes together. Fridays?”

The offer is sweet, making you feel fuzzy all over at the hint of a blossoming friendship. But the day suggestion had you frowning, a cold bath over your form. Fridays were for Ellie and you. “Me and Ellie do movie night on Friday..” you begin, a slight worry rising in your body that you may have ruined this building idea. Dina didn't seem to sweat it, smiling just as softly as before. “That’s fine, Lemme see your class schedule. We can plan a weekday.”

Dina stands, making her way to your side of the room and taking a seat on your bed without a second thought. It almost made you jealous how simply Dina had been able to talk to you, come into your space, and build plans like the two of you were not strangers being forced to live with each other. If Ellie were here, she would probably say someone like Dina was good for you. Someone who could bite into the world more harshly than yourself, someone who didn’t have to force the confidence. Ellie would probably really like Dina. The thought makes you smile, and a little less stiff when Dina presses against you to watch you open your phone. You swear you hear a giggle at the sight of your lock screen, but you push that thought away.

The two of you spend the next ten minutes with your heads tucked over the tiny screen of your schedule, finally landing on a night that would work for both of you, Wednesday night after your final classes. The topic quickly switched to creating a list of tv shows you could watch during these nights.

Before long, Dina had ended up lying on your bed, your teddy bear tucked in her arms as she stared at the ceiling. “Could I invite Ellie to this a few times? I'm sure she could use the study time..” You ask absentmindedly, fingers scrolling through a list of 2000’s sitcoms. Dina nods, “Sure, maybe I’ll invite my boyfriend sometimes too..” She flips onto her stomach, looking up at where you sit.

“What about Friends?” Dina hums, chin finding her palms.

“I’ll put it down, Ellie hates friends, though,” your nail scrapes across the phone screen, adding the title to the notes you had formed. “What about New Girl?”

Dina seems to like this idea, nodding quickly. “New Girl for sure..” she watches you, head tilting. “Is Ellie the one you kept disappearing for last week? You talk about her a lot.”

The question made you a weird sort of uncomfortable; not sure why the observation from your roommate had you shifting over your blankets. “Yea, I.. she’s my best friend. I was really, um.. nervous about meeting you last week so she kinda let me hide in her dorm.”

Dina laughs gently, “Oh! I thought I had pissed you off or something, and you were hiding out with your girlfriend.”

“No!” you quickly say, fumbling to make a gesture with your hands. “First, definitely not girlfriend,” it felt important to say that before anything else, “and second, you didn't do anything. I'm just a pussy.”

The answer draws another laugh from Dina, which has you smiling along. Your phone is discarded as you find yourself settling back into a conversation about tv shows, “C’mon, let’s keep going with the list.”

A few moments later, a buzz pulls you out of the little world that had grown around you and Dina as you chattered. It was your phone, the picture of you and Ellie that acted as your lock screen covered by a text notification.

els

she axe murder u?

You grin a lot more than you should have, lip sucking between your teeth as you reply.

you

why? worried abt me? 🤨

els

just wanted to see u say i was right

you

k🖕🖕

The text is sent without much more thought, pressing down your phone to be face down as you hop back to the conversation at hand. Ellie, though you hate to admit it, was right. Dina wasn’t an axe murderer. She was actually really cool. She made it easy to talk, the words falling from your lips without the usual pause to make sure it sounded alright.

“Maybe we should start New Girl now,” Dina suggested, pulling the fuzzy blanket on your bed over herself. “Deal,” you grab your laptop from its place under your bed, making quick work of pulling up the show and setting the screen in between you two. You pull your knees to your chest, listening to the theme song as Dina makes herself comfortable on the other side.

When the following text came in, you were a few episodes in, cheeks sore from the jokes Dina had made along with the characters in the show. The sun was beginning to dim by then, and though it was early— you still rubbed your eyes from tiredness. The long drive to Jackson and back always did that to you.

els

come over and watch smthn?

els

i got ur fave snack from the caf

You didn’t see the text this time, phone screen still pressed softly into the corner of your bed. The buzz didn’t gain your attention either, too focused on watching Jess steal a TV from her ex onscreen. You were sure Ellie loved this episode, one you had played far too many times in high school. But the crinkled nose of Ellie’s reaction to jokes was replaced by the loud laughs of your roommate this time, and you didn’t mind. You didn’t mind how you let your eyes blink closed while still sitting up, and didn’t mind how Dina turned off the episode and hopped off your bed.

“You look tired,” she commented, “get some sleep. Jesse wants me to come over anyway.”

You yawn as she speeds around her side of the dorm to put on shoes and gather her phone, blinking your bleary eyes as some sort of embarrassment settles in you. You had almost fallen asleep watching TV when it was barely even six yet. What a great impression to leave.

“Oh shit, sorry..” you sit up further, rubbing your eyes again.

“Dude, you drove like all day. I’d be tired too,” Dina assures you, ”think someone texted you,” she adds as she reaches the door, eyeing your phone screen that had lit up again.

els

???

You nod, offering a smile as a thanks, “See you later.”

Dina grins, shooting you a thumbs up as the door shuts behind her. A small huff is released, your head falling back against your pillows.

None of today had been as bad as you thought it would, but the tension of meeting someone new was still pressing on your bones, and the alone time allowed you to let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Dina was sweet. She made you laugh and relatively comfortable.. but the attempt to make sure she liked you was still leaving a tired ache on you.

You should check your phone, Dina’s reminder ringing in your ears as you let your eyes flutter closed. But sleep seemed more important right now, so you tucked your face into the pillow under you and let yourself have that. Whoever texted could wait.

﹒ ♡₊˚﹕﹒₊﹕﹒₊˚

Ellie’s head was also pressed into a pillow. Only she was staring at the ceiling, picking at her nails. She tried to ease herself when the third text had gone unanswered, deeming that shoving her phone off the bed dramatically was the only correct answer. It would be too embarrassing to text you again.

Her own dorm room was empty, a movie pressed paused on the first few minutes— a bag of your favorite chips next to it.

Maybe it was a little selfish, texting you and asking you to come over when she had been the one to tell you to get to know Dina. But Ellie was always a little selfish with you.

Especially when you stopped answering her texts.

She wanted to know exactly how everything went, how Dina had acted to you, if she was friendly, and if you got along. She wanted to know what you thought of Dina, what you thought of anything that happened. Ellie wanted you to be sitting on her bed telling her all this like you always did. But you hadn’t answered.

Maybe you had really hit it off with Dina and were doing something. That was what Ellie wanted for you. So she knew there was no reason to feel a sharp twinge in her chest at the thought you had ignored her texts to instead hang out with your roommate.

Her reactions when it came to you never made much sense.

So she had instead ended up with her eyes glued to the white paint of her dorm, convincing herself you had most definitely forgotten about her. Part of her brain waited for a buzz of her phone, maybe a knock on her door. It didn’t come, and Ellie shoved the chips off her bed next in retaliation to this. Maybe she was a little dramatic, but you had ignored her! Or, Ellie assumed you had.

In retrospect, she knew it wasn’t a big deal. She had just spent the whole weekend with you, and it had only been a few hours of unanswered texts. She could survive. She didn’t need her best friend to watch every movie. Ellie could wait until tomorrow to hear about your roommate. She could tell herself all of this, but it still made her ribs hurt a little. A bit more than it should.

But Ellie didn’t like to think about those sorts of things, the things that stayed unspoken between you. That had stayed that way since you met. Honestly, Ellie wasn’t even sure you noticed it. She knows she tries not to. She tries to lock all the little things away in the little box in her brain labeled ‘DON'T GO THERE!’

But when Ellie was alone, when you did things like not answer her for a while, or you two get into a small banter— she knows her reactions weren’t exactly normal. She knows that the anger in her stomach that builds with each moment you don't text her back isn't exactly normal. But as always, Ellie pushes it down. Plays it off to herself as dramatic girl friendships, something Joel used to always say about you and her when another argument left her in a shitty mood.

Yea, that’s all it was.

So she tucked her chin into a pillow, pressing play on the movie by herself, pulling out her journal from its place under her pillow to begin doodling in.

Like always, the pencil begins to leave lines of you. Today it was your sweatshirt that you tugged all around today. Ellie knew it as her own, one you had stolen from her all the way back when she was a senior. She isn’t sure you remember it, but she surely does. She remembers it whenever you pull it over your arms or stuff it in your backpack. You took that thing everywhere when it was cold enough, and Ellie always noticed.

She huffs, scribbling over the sketch with hard pencil marks, ripping through the paper as she writes in bold, messy letters, ‘Don't go there with her.’ Ellie forced the journal closed, doing her best to focus on the screen.

Halfway through the movie, she fell asleep, head pressed halfway on the pillow, her phone still empty from notifications.

series taglist: @totheblood @elliewill @rxllingstones @elliesflower @hrtsellie @ellieluhme @darlingmisa @liabadoobee @muthafuckingstargirl @ribbonsouls @cretaceouss @bambiesfics @sl4t22 @callmekittenandyourmajesty @waywardpiratebird @starfaegirl @romantic-slaps-on-the-asss @haiixo @arcaneangstenjoyer @lllijeu

#the perfect pair ❀.#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x fem reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams #tlou part 2 #the last of us part two #tlou fic #ellie williams fic #ellie williams fanfic

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kingofbodyrolls · 4 months

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Learn to Love Again (m) | myg

Summary: People always leave. They become beautiful stars shining bright in the night sky. When life hands you lemons, you’ve been told to make lemonade, but that is hard when your soul and heart is breaking apart. When you rescue a tiny cat and meet a handsome stranger in the cafe, you finally feel yourself healing – but when they too leave, how are you going to learn to love again?

Pairing: Yoongi x reader (female, mainly called pet names so no ‘Y/N’).

AU + genres: Hybrid!au (shapeshifter!yoongi), strangers to lovers, slice of life, heavy angst, a lot of sadness and grief (I’m sorry!), dark vibes, smut and fluff and some humor sprinkled in there too.

Rating: Mature/explicit/R18 – this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.

Word count: 19,4K

Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸

Warnings (general) + triggers: Heavy angst, extreme heavy sadness and grief, death of minor characters, mention of previous character death (parents and siblings), mentions of su*cide, mention of m*rder, su*cidal thoughts. Mention of past car accident. Mention of past domestic abuse. Mirrors 👀👀

Warnings (explicit): unprotected sex (please stay safe!), choking, oral (female receiving), nipple and breasts play, one-time use of a degrading word (otherwise petname), hair pulling – I guess it’s pretty vanilla with a slight sprinkle of spice 🤭

Author’s note (1): I know it sounds hella sad (and it is), but it is also very sweet and heartwarming too 💜 I wanted to venture into the darker stuff again, and embrace all the feelings and sadness that I felt a few weeks ago (I’m fine, well I’m getting through it at least).

If you are triggered by any of the warnings, I suggest that you skip this. It’s not that explicit though, but the heavy subjects are still there and they feature in it a lot.

Also, the quote “people always leave” features a lot in this and I only now realize why I find it so familiar – it’s a famous quote from Peyton Sawyer from One Tree Hill.

Author's note (2): It’s only partly edited, so I’m so sorry about any mistakes or weird wordings (English is also not my mother language). When I read it again, I felt sad and like the whole thing is crap (why do I also feel like this adgadfjkhs), BUT, I still like it, it’s a piece of my heart in there… I can’t just let it sit in my docs to collect dust. So – I’ll just post it early and never look at the thing again (expect for the cover, because damn I’m so happy with how that turned out 🥹).

Taglist: @keshiadeija @viankiss @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad If you prefer to read on AO3 you can also find it there 🙂

The heavens are weeping again, unleashing a torrential downpour that drums heavy on the windows. Just like the heavy beating of your heart and the tears that just won’t stop falling down your cheeks.

For days now, the world has languished in this disquiet, a foreboding atmosphere that has draped itself over every moment, casting a shadow even before the haunting ring of the call that echoed through the silence.

A searing, heart-wrenching call that etched itself into the fabric of your existence, standing out as one of the most agonizing moments life has ever dared to deliver.

Caught off guard by the unexpected twist of fate, it blindsided you, sending shockwaves through your core and leaving you utterly rattled, as if the very ground beneath your feet had shifted without warning.

Your conviction in her well-being crumbled as swiftly as a sandcastle against the tide.

In your last encounter, she radiated joy—her infectious happiness casting a brilliant glow over her words as she spoke about her new job, her blossoming romance, and her boundless love for life.

A tear, heavy with the weight of the contrast between then and now, traces a lonely path down your cheek.

The echo of her laughter, the sparkle in her eyes, and the unbridled excitement that made her hands tremble with anticipation haunted your memories.

It's a heart-wrenching juxtaposition between the happiness she projected and the sorrow now etched into the fabric of your own emotions.

She wasn't just a friend; she was your confidante, a steadfast companion through the labyrinth of years and experiences. Your best friend.

In the tapestry of your friendship, she emerged as the resplendent thread, the one who consistently outshone the rest.

Even on her darkest days, she radiated a brilliance that surpassed the ordinary, a celestial glow that left an indelible mark on your heart. To you, she wasn't just a friend; she was a luminous star, a breathtaking celestial entity whose untimely descent felt like a cosmic supernova, casting a blinding light that left everyone in its wake awestruck and forever changed.

Like a thunderbolt from a clear sky, the day she chose to end her own life blindsided everyone.

The abruptness of her decision, the finality of calling it quits, left a haunting question echoing in the hollow chambers of your soul—why?

The puzzle remains unsolved, the enigma of her despair a perplexing maze you can't navigate. Outwardly, her life seemed like a canvas painted in hues of contentment, yet the invisible struggles eluded comprehension.

Despite the deep conversations that usually wove through the tapestry of your friendship, the darkness she harbored never surfaced in her words. Her choice to shroud her pain in silence remains an unfathomable mystery, a tragic paradox that still elicits a profound sense of bewilderment.

The haunting ‘what if’ lingers, an elusive specter of regret—what if she had shared her struggles with you?

The possibility that your words could have been a lifeline is an uncharted sea of sorrow. The uncertainty, the unfulfilled potential for intervention, claws at your conscience like a relentless tempest.

In the wake of this unanswered plea for connection, tears cascade down your cheeks, each drop bearing the weight of unspoken conversations. The dampness on your collarbone, where your shirt clings uncomfortably, is a tangible reminder of the storm within.

A mere few days have crawled by since that fateful call, the kind that alters the very fabric of reality.

The echo of your friend's voice reverberates through your memory—a seismic revelation that shattered your world. As the words unfolded, you crumpled to the floor, the phone nearly slipping from your trembling grasp.

A gasp caught in your throat, a palpable surge of emotion crashing over you like a tidal wave.

In that harrowing moment, your heartbeat quickened, each thud resonating with the weight of sorrow and anger. The air itself seemed to constrict, tainted with the bitter aftertaste of an impending storm. The onslaught of emotions clawed at your chest, a tumultuous dance between sadness and anger, each one vying for dominance in the chaotic symphony of your soul.

Powerlessness wraps around you like a suffocating shroud, the absence of your brightest star leaving a void that seems insurmountable.

In this moment of staggering loss, the future unfolds as a vast expanse of uncertainty. How do you navigate a world without the radiant glow she once brought to your existence?

Yet, as the weight of grief presses down, a resilient ember flickers within. Acknowledging the inexorable march of time, you realize that her memory, like a cherished constellation, will be a guiding light in the night sky of your life.

In the tapestry of your emotions, she, alongside your parents, becomes one of the celestial beacons you look up to during moments of sorrow or when life's burdens become too overwhelming.

You step out onto the balcony, enveloped by the velvety embrace of the dark blue sky.

The resplendent moon takes center stage, surrounded by a constellation of bright companions that twinkle in the vast expanse of the night. The beauty of the cosmos is a bittersweet solace, a celestial dance that captivates your gaze.

The night sky has always held a captivating allure for you, but in the wake of the profound loss of your parents, it transcends mere beauty.

It becomes a sanctuary, a cosmic tapestry where memories linger among the stars. Each celestial beacon now carries the weight of cherished moments, transforming the night into a sacred canvas where the brilliance of your loved ones continues to shine, casting a radiant glow that lingers in the quiet moments of contemplation.

The subtle hum of your phone reverberates in your hand, a clandestine messenger that disrupts the tranquility of your thoughts, setting loose a cascade of emotions.

The screen lights up with a message from a friend, its arrival like a seismic tremor in the landscape of your contemplations, shaking loose the delicate balance you've tried so desperately to maintain.

Yuna [20.31]: Iseul’s funeral is on Saturday. We’re all going. U coming?🌹

Dread settles in the pit of your stomach like a heavy anchor – the thought of attending the funeral feels like navigating a tempest of emotions you're not sure you're prepared to weather.

The prospect of confronting tears, raw emotion, and the grieving presence of her family looms before you, casting a shadow over the already somber occasion.

Yet, duty intertwines with reluctance; you were her best friend, after all.

The expectation to pay your respects becomes an unspoken mandate, tugging at the seams of your resolve despite the storm of discomfort that brews within.

Tears have become an unwelcome torrent on your phone, transforming the smooth surface into a slippery terrain that complicates every attempt to type.

The screen blurs beneath a watery veil, mirroring the tumultuous cascade in your own eyes. Distraction clings to each droplet, making it not only challenging to navigate the phone but also to see through the emotional downpour that clouds your vision.

But against the deluge of sorrow and the weight of grief, you summon the strength for a brief reply, a fragile lifeline tossed into the turbulent sea of emotions.

You [20.46]: Yes🌹

With a heavy sigh, you gently lay your phone face-down on the nightstand, as if shielding the illuminated screen from the weight of the world you've just momentarily set aside.

How do you navigate this desolate landscape that life has become?

The void feels more palpable now, a haunting echo of emptiness that had lingered even before.

It's as if the very essence of existence has been drained away, leaving you grappling with the profound question: What is the point when the world around you continues to crumble, and people around you just keep dying?

At Iseul's funeral, you navigated the somber scene alongside your friend group, bracing for the emotional maelstrom that awaited.

The atmosphere unfolded exactly as you had anticipated — a tableau of tears, grief-stricken family members, and the embrace of mournful hugs. Conversations echoed with memories of Iseul's radiant spirit, each word a bittersweet tribute to the bright and bubbly soul that once graced your lives.

Amidst the collective sorrow, the air hung heavy with the weight of loss, weaving a tapestry of emotions that spoke to the indelible impact Iseul had left behind.

It was agonizing, bidding farewell in the harsh reality of acceptance. The harsh truth of life unveiled itself – an unrelenting cycle of departures.

Yet, amidst the crushing finality, you find solace in the enduring promise that even though everyone leaves, the stars above will forever bear witness to her presence, a cosmic constellation of memories that will continue to illuminate the canvas of your nights.

Work persists in its mundane rhythm, the monotony punctuated only by the forced smiles you offer customers as you brew their coffee or recommend delectable treats in the cafe.

For you, work has forever remained a sterile landscape, devoid of passion or purpose. The unfulfilled yearning for a meaningful career tugs at the edges of your consciousness, a persistent ache exacerbated by life's unrelenting cruelty—your unfinished degree in astrophysics stands as a testament to dreams deferred. Maybe you’ll go back to school – you don’t know.

Your thoughts are abruptly shattered by a brash intrusion, a man’s voice slicing through the ambient noise with an unwarranted familiarity. “Hi, pretty,” he drawls, snapping your attention to the present, “can I get a black coffee, a muffin, and your number, please?”

The audacious request hangs in the air, leaving a charged pause that crackles with a blend of amusement and annoyance.

You stifle a silent scoff, a careful veil to conceal the simmering irritation within, though the indignation is palpable.

This flirtatious interlude is far from novel—far from the first time someone has attempted to weave charm into the fabric of your workday. Yet, a discomforting truth lingers beneath your composed exterior: you disdain these unwarranted advances, a sentiment you've carried with you each time such encounters stain the ordinary canvas of your work.

Forcing a smile that feels more like a fragile mask, you locate a muffin, navigating the familiar routine with practiced efficiency.

As you approach the coffee machine to craft the requested brew, you gather both items and, with a subtle sigh, slide them across the counter.

Your words, delivered with a polite cadence, carry a hint of firmness as you say, “Here you go. Apologies, but my number isn't on the menu.”

Turning men down has become a skill honed through the crucible of experience, a necessity etched into the fabric of your being, especially after the wreckage of your last relationship.

It wasn't just a breakup; it was a tempest that left you bruised, not only on the surface but also in the recesses of your soul.

To declare a dread of relationships, despite the quiet longing that flickers deep within, would be an understatement—the mere thought evokes the echoes of a tumultuous past, a cautionary tale etched in both physical and emotional hues of black and blue.

Despite the man's disapproving frown, he begrudgingly parts with his payment, snatching his coffee and muffin.

As he vacates the space, you extend a tight-lipped greeting to the next customer, the forced smile a delicate masquerade concealing the intricacies of emotion churning beneath the surface.

Day after day unfolds in this relentless routine, a relentless loop where, despite the suffocating weight of depression, you muster the strength to haul yourself into work.

The struggle is an unspoken battle, fought in the silent recesses of your soul, and each morning becomes a victory against the persistent darkness that threatens to engulf your spirit.

You maintain a lifeline to your friends, weaving a narrative of your somber mood and emotional tumult, acutely aware of the significance of vocalizing your feelings rather than succumbing to the perilous grip of silent suffering.

Recent conversations with your friends have taken an unexpected turn, steering into the realm of your dating life or, more accurately, its conspicuous absence.

Their fervent advocacy for you to reenter the world of romance echoes in your ears, their well-intentioned pleas urging you to cross paths with someone great and amazing.

However, you find yourself standing at the crossroads of uncertainty, unsure if you're ready to navigate the labyrinth of love once more.

Despite your reservations, you indulge them, allowing their words to wash over you like a waterfall of unsolicited advice, all the while steadfast in your understanding that a man is not a prerequisite for happiness or the completeness of your life—you've long recognized your ability to stand firm and flourish on your own terms.

An entire season has unfurled its tapestry, and while the vast void persists within the caverns of your heart, there's a subtle transformation underway. Amidst the lingering shadows, a sliver of the sun's warm rays threads its way through, gently illuminating the emptiness.

The caress of warm weather and sunlight manages to coax a faint lift in your mood, a subtle thawing of the emotional frost.

Yet, amidst the burgeoning warmth, there's a yearning for the crispness of cold, the kind that invites the comfort of wool sweaters and socks, beckoning a desire to cocoon on the couch and lose yourself in the embrace of solitude.

After withstanding the relentless onslaught of your friends' persistent prodding into the realm of your love life, you've yielded to the chorus of their well-meaning badgering. With a mixture of trepidation and curiosity, you've made the bold decision to reenter the intricate dance of the dating game.

The prospect of discovering 'the one' remains shrouded in uncertainty, a delicate balance between the promise of profound connection and the potential peril of heartache from those who might not treat you right.

However, the ambiguity of the journey doesn't deter your resolve. To remain passive is to forfeit the chance at something extraordinary.

The echoes of Iseul and the silent encouragement from your departed parents reverberate, urging you to embrace life with all its intricate hues. Their unwritten wish for your happiness becomes the compass guiding your path, compelling you to take the plunge and give it your all.

You yearn for a life where the pursuit of happiness isn't punctuated by the haunting inevitability of departures and loss. You grasp the harsh truth that people leaving or departing through death is an inescapable facet of existence, a relentless current in the river of life.

Yet, the recurring tide of sorrow that washes over you each time someone departs feels burdensome, a weight that anchors your spirit. It would be a cherished reprieve if the ebb and flow of life's transitions didn't carry with it a relentless undertow that threatens to drag you down each time.

Your dating escapades have unfolded like a series of misadventures, each rendezvous more perplexing than the last.

One suitor wielded an aggressive tone that eclipsed any potential connection, while another was so absorbed in self-interest that your voice seemed but an echo in the conversation. Then there was the one who sought solace in your company to mend a broken heart, an unwitting participant in their quest for emotional repair.

With every disappointing encounter, your hopes wane like the dying embers of a once-bright flame. Yet, undeterred, you persist in the pursuit of connection, a resilient soul navigating the unpredictable seas of dating with unwavering determination.

Amidst the tumultuous sea of advice from your friends, the suggestion of a night out clubbing emerges as a potential remedy to jumpstart your dating life—a one-night stand, a shortcut to reclaiming agency over your love life.

However, the proposition fails to align with the essence of who you are. The neon-lit allure of the club scene doesn't resonate with your soul, and the idea of a fleeting encounter doesn't hold the promise you seek.

Nonetheless, you find yourself engulfed in a pulsating sea of sound, the music in the club roaring, the bass reverberating through the floor and into your bones.

The atmosphere is a maelstrom of heat and sweat, a suffocating embrace that intensifies your regret for being there.

Yuna, exuding an air of confidence, takes charge and orders a round of drinks for the group. Meanwhile, Nari's eyes scan the lively chaos of the club, a vigilant matchmaker on a mission to uncover potential matches for you.

Her finger extends with a pointed certainty toward a mysterious figure—a dark-haired man sporting a sleeveless shirt, the canvas of his arm adorned with an intricate tattoo sleeve. His dark eyes, scanning the crowded expanse of the club, carry an enigmatic intensity, hinting at a captivating allure that goes beyond the surface.

Your laughter carries a blend of amusement and skepticism as you dismissively remark, “Nah, he's giving off major fuckboy vibes.”

Amidst the cacophony of pounding music in the club, Nari practically shouts in your face, her words punctuating the beat as she insists, “Maybe that's exactly what you need!”

The intensity of her proclamation, a fervent plea for spontaneity, reverberates in the air, a challenge thrown into the whirlwind of the night's possibilities.

You shake your head, a firm yet polite rejection lingering on your lips, “No, thank you.”

Just as the tension subsides, Yuna appears with a tray of drinks, a timely distraction. Gratefully, you accept your drink, savoring the sweet and sour concoction that dances across your palate, momentarily providing respite from the charged atmosphere of the club.

The night unfolds in a rhythm of measured indulgence—a few drinks to chase a gentle buzz, steering clear of the edge of intoxication. Your gaze scans the crowd in search of potential matches, but amidst the pulsating lights and swirling music, none captures the elusive spark that ignites a genuine interest.

As the night deepens and the rhythm of the club starts to fade, you bid farewell to your friends, the weight of the evening settling in your bones.

Stepping out into the nocturnal air, you're greeted by the relentless cascade of rain, a torrential downpour that catches you off guard. Damn it, you realize, a surge of annoyance coursing through you, you didn't bring an umbrella.

Embracing a sudden burst of defiance, you make a split-second decision, a resolute ‘fuck it’ echoing in your mind.

Stepping onto the sidewalk without the shelter of an umbrella, you surrender to the unrelenting rain. In mere moments, your hair clings to your skin, and your clothes succumb to the downpour.

As you navigate the labyrinth of alleys and pass by numerous apartments, a peculiar low noise infiltrates the ambient hum of the rain. What is that sound?

It's a subtle yet persistent calling that arrests your movements, compelling you to strain your senses in an attempt to decipher its origin.

It's not just your slightly tipsy mind, is it, playing tricks on you?

The cadence of the noise feels like a desperate plea, an ethereal call for help that beckons you into a mysterious dance between reality and the unknown.

Undeterred by the absence of street lamps, you navigate a shadowy alleyway nestled between looming apartment complexes. The darkness cloaks the path ahead, but you press on, an intrepid explorer drawn to the mystery that lies beyond the veil of obscurity.

As you draw nearer, the enigmatic noise crescendos in intensity, a haunting melody that pierces the quiet of the alley.

Your steps quicken, and with each stride, the source becomes clearer. Could it be emanating from the depths of the dumpster?

A sense of déjà vu wraps around you, as if this eerie scene has been lifted from a cinematic reel. The dilemma tugs at your curiosity, tempting you to peer into the abyss of the dumpster, a choice that hangs in the balance.

Yet, before you make a decision, a glimmer of relief washes over you.

Nestled snugly beside the dumpster, a small ball of fur captivates your attention, its presence a stark contrast to the ominous shadows.

A silhouette emerges from the darkness, and as you inch closer, the mystery unfolds into a shivering, meowing figure—a black cat.

The frailness of the tiny creature tugs at your heartstrings, and you find yourself hunching down, extending a tentative invitation with soft calls, coaxing the small, ebony bundle to bridge the gap between its vulnerability and your outstretched hand.

The black cat fixes its gaze upon you, eyes mirroring a blend of uncertainty and wariness, as if it's attempting to decipher the intentions behind your outstretched hand.

The black cat stirs from its initial hesitation, uttering plaintive meows that seem to echo its distress. As it rises, the stark reality becomes evident—malnourished and shrouded in fear, it moves tentatively towards you. Each step seems to echo a history of abandonment and struggle. With aching slowness, the feline inches closer, navigating the wet ground with trepidation.

Softly, you beckon the malnourished feline closer, the words “Come here, you poor thing” carrying an invitation laced with compassion.

As the tiny creature inches nearer, its pitch-black eyes become an intense focal point, a gaze that transcends the physical realm, peering into the depths of your soul. In that poignant exchange, a silent pact forms—an unspoken promise of comfort and understanding between two beings, each seeking solace in the other's company.

As the fragile black cat draws near, an echo from your past resurfaces—the cautionary words of your mother reverberating in your mind. ‘Black cats bring omen and death,’ her voice, etched in childhood memories, had warned.

Yet, confronted with the stark vulnerability of this shivering, lost creature in the cold summer rain, you find your resolve tested.

Against the weight of your mother's superstitions, compassion prevails, and you make a conscious decision to offer refuge. You haven’t got anything else to lose, but yourself.

The cat's purrs resonate in the quiet alley, a melodic response to the tentative connection forming between you. Meows become a symphony of trust as it finally caresses your hand, a delicate dance of vulnerability.

With a newfound intimacy, it leans into your touch, climbing up your arm to find refuge in your lap. Despite your jacket's damp embrace, you pull the shivering creature closer, enfolding it tightly against your chest.

“I’ll take you home and get you some food.”

Rising from the damp alley, you cradle the tiny black cat in your arms, an intimate embrace that transcends the physicality of the moment. As you navigate the journey home, each step becomes a testament to the newfound connection—its fragile heartbeat resonating against your chest.

As you finally reach the sanctuary of your home, both you and the shivering cat are thoroughly drenched from the relentless rain.

With a twist of the key, you unlock the door to your small apartment, ushering in a breath of warmth that contrasts sharply with the damp chill outside.

In a choreography of relief, you kick off your sodden shoes, the cat nestled at your feet. Unburdened by the weight of the rain-soaked coat, you hang it on the rack, a visual symbol of the transition from the stormy world outside to the comforting refuge within the four walls of your home.

“I'll find you a towel and dry you off,” you promise to the cat, your words a tender reassurance before your feet. With a sense of urgency, you hasten to the bathroom, a quest for a towel becoming a mission to provide comfort to your newfound companion.

As you return, traces of wet footprints mark the path from the entryway to your living room, leading to the sight of the cat perched regally on your couch.

The unexpected image elicits a sense of awe within you, a silent marvel at the fortuitous encounter that has unfolded. With the fluffy towel in hand, you join the tiny creature on the couch.

With gentle strokes, you tenderly dry the cat with the fluffy towel, the rhythmic purrs and meows resonating like a melody of gratitude.

In this intimate act of care, a bond forms between you and the feline, its response a testament to the shared understanding that has quietly blossomed.

The dampness of the storm may linger outside, but within the confines of your home, a warmth permeates, forged through the simple yet profound act of offering comfort to a fragile soul.

Persistently, the cat continues its chorus of meows, its nearly obsidian eyes fixed on you with an intensity that transcends mere feline curiosity. In the silent exchange, a profound question lingers in the air—what does it want?

The gaze carries an almost pleading quality, an unspoken plea that invites you to unravel the mysteries hidden within those enigmatic eyes, and in doing so, embark on a journey of connection and understanding with this small, mysterious soul.

A revelation flickers in your mind like a sudden burst of light—food!

The realization washes over you, and a spark of understanding illuminates the unspoken hunger behind those pleading eyes. “You're starving, ain't ya?” you murmur, the words a bridge between the two of you, an acknowledgment of shared needs and the beginning of a silent commitment to provide not just shelter but sustenance to this small, hungry soul.

In a hurried dance between care and necessity, you dart into the kitchen, swinging open the fridge door to unleash a blast of cold air.

The realization that your wet clothes might lead to an impending cold nudges at you, urging a brief pause for self-care. As you contemplate changing into dry attire, the cat, now a nimble companion, weaves around your feet, a symphony of meows echoing its anticipation of the impending feast.

As your gaze sweeps across the contents of the fridge, a flurry of questions dance in your mind—what do cats like?

In a moment of culinary improvisation, you spot the remnants of yesterday's fish. A hopeful assumption takes hold—cats like fish, right?

Without a second thought, you snatch the container, crack it open, and ceremoniously place it on the floor.

The cat descends upon the fish with a voracity that borders on desperation, consuming it in a whirlwind of seconds.

You observe in silent fascination as the cat devours the fish with an almost primal fervor, each bite a testament to the depth of its hunger.

As the cat lifts its gaze, those dark, fond eyes fixate on you, a silent expression of gratitude that transcends words, forging a connection that lingers in the air like the sweet aftertaste of an unexpected bond.

You retrieve a bowl, fill it with water, and place it on the floor. The cat, having satisfied its hunger, wastes no time. It immediately dips its tongue into the water, each lap a testament to the thirst that had accompanied its hunger.

In the quiet aftermath of the cat's meal, you find yourself engaged in a one-sided conversation. While it laps up the water, you speak to it with a hint of longing, as if expecting the feline to reveal its name with a mere glance. “I don't know what your name is…” you muse aloud, your words hanging in the air like a silent plea for connection.

In the exchange, a profound yearning takes root—a desire not just to care for this creature but to unravel the mystery that shrouds it, beginning with the revelation of a name.

Hmm... A whimsical idea takes shape in your mind, and with a voice full of hope, you share your musings with the feline companion. “I don't know, maybe I'll give you one!” you exclaim, the words tinged with the excitement of a newfound connection.

Testing the waters, you propose a couple of names with a hopeful lilt in your voice. “Shadow?” you venture, eyes fixated on the cat, seeking any flicker of recognition.

Yet, met with a stoic demeanor, you playfully offer another option, “Licorice?”

A soft chuckle escapes your lips, but the cat remains unfazed, engrossed in its culinary pursuits.

Embracing a sudden surge of inspiration, you think of a name that dances on the edges of whimsy and mischief. “You look like a 'Loki,' like a God of Mischief!” The words tumble out with a playful chuckle, a nod to the elusive charm that shrouds the feline.

To your surprise, the cat interrupts its feast, casting what seems like a dumbfounded expression your way.

A moment of shared acknowledgment hangs in the air before the cat resumes its meal, leaving you to wonder if, in that fleeting pause, you've glimpsed the spark of recognition in its enigmatic eyes.

An impromptu burst of enthusiasm seizes you, and with an abrupt yell, you christen the cat in a moment of whimsy. “Kitten!”

The exclamation is so sudden that it startles the cat, prompting a small leap in surprise. “That's your name. You're so small, like a little kitten,” you playfully jest, mimicking the affectionate cooing one might give to a baby.

In the imaginary realm where cats understand human whims, you half-expect a hypothetical eye-roll, as if the creature were a miniature human indulging in the theatrics of a quirky naming ceremony.

In the wake of your spontaneous naming ceremony, Kitten darts away, a streak of fur and energy leaving you in its playful wake. A fleeting attempt to follow its swift movements reveals the futility of keeping pace with this agile companion.

An earnest plea escapes your lips, “No, don't run away, Kitten!” A plea that halts not far from your bedroom, where a sudden idea takes root. “We're going to bed, and you can even sleep in my bed.” The promise hangs in the air, an invitation that sparks the cat's curiosity.

Without hesitation, Kitten races back to you, weaving through your legs and darting into the bedroom. It watches itself in the mirror in front of your bed, before it in a graceful leap, lands on the bed, transforming this impromptu offer into a shared moment of warmth and companionship.

A soft chuckle escapes you as Kitten, with a graceful twirl, transforms into a snug, fluffy black ball. It settles onto the bed, a picture of contentment and trust, the rhythmic rise and fall of its breathing echoing in the room.

In the sanctuary of your bathroom, the day's residue fades away as you delicately remove stained makeup and indulge in your nightly skincare rituals.

With a sense of quiet reverence, you return to the bedroom, mindful not to disrupt Kitten's serene repose. Nestled in bed, you prop yourself up, the rhythmic routine a prelude to the tranquility that envelops the room.

As you surrender to the embrace of sleep, the ethereal presence of the black cat becomes a silent companion in the journey between waking and dreams, a guardian of the night's secrets.

In the intimate company of Kitten, you find solace in the honesty of your own reflection. “He wasn't really for me, Kitten. I don't know why I keep going on these dates. They amount to nothing.” A sigh punctuates your admission, a subtle echo of the unspoken search for connection that seems elusive in the realm of human encounters.

As you delve into a shared meal with your newfound family member – Kitten, you stuff your face with delicious food in an attempt to keep your minds off your failing romantic life.

Kitten responds to your words with a series of gentle meows, a seemingly agreeable chorus that resonates in the room.

Over the past few days, he has transformed into an impeccable listener, absorbing the tapestry of your thoughts with silent grace.

In the quiet moments of your soliloquies, a yearning surfaces—a desire for more than a feline confidant, for words that echo back with advice and wisdom.

Yet, despite this unfulfilled wish, Kitten's silent companionship remains a source of profound comfort, his presence weaving seamlessly into the fabric of your daily life, a testament to the unexpected connections that emerge in the quiet interludes of solitude.

Consistent as the rhythm of a heartbeat, Kitten is there, a patient sentinel awaiting your return from the hustle of the day.

His presence becomes a cherished routine, an embodiment of comfort that transcends the mundanity of the everyday.

As you settle in front of the television, Kitten gracefully claims his place in your lap, his form snuggling into the contours of your warmth.

The scene unfolds like a silent ballet, a dance between two beings finding solace in the quietude of shared moments—a testament to the profound bond that has blossomed in the intimate spaces of your daily life.

On a day marked by what you'd deem a successful date, you decide to bring the guy home to your apartment.

Kitten welcomes you with joyous meows, but the moment his obsidian eyes lock onto the man, a palpable shift occurs.

The cat's once-hospitable demeanor morphs into a display of territorial assertion—he hisses, claws unsheathed, a guardian of the sacred space that has become both haven and sanctuary.

Unfazed by Kitten's display of discontent, the man follows you into the bedroom, a trail of unresolved tension lingering in the air. However, as you attempt to navigate the fragile balance between human relationships and the silent protests of your feline confidant, Kitten stalks in with palpable anger.

Kitten's claws assert their protest on the man's pants, a silent plea echoing through the room. “I'm so sorry about my cat. He's not usually like this,” you hastily apologize, attempting to navigate the tumultuous intersection of human connection and feline territoriality.

In the midst of the uneasy dance, the guy gently guides you down onto the bed, a kiss bridging the gap between words left unsaid and the uncharted landscapes of desire.

In an unforeseen twist, Kitten catapults onto the bed, launching a surprise attack on the poor man's back with unbridled ferocity.

The room erupts with a sudden commotion as the guy yells in pain, Kitten swiftly retreating to the shelter of your startled embrace.

Frustration and pain tinge the man's voice as he vehemently declares, “Fuck this. This isn't worth it! Your cat is a fucking psycho!”

The words hang in the air, a bitter testament to the unexpected turbulence that has unraveled in the wake of Kitten's feline intervention.

With an angry storm, the man storms out of your bedroom and through the front door, leaving behind a charged atmosphere and the unresolved echoes of a connection unraveling at the seams.

As the storm of emotions settles, Kitten finds solace in your lap, a contented purr resonating through the room—a feline sovereign basking in the aftermath of his territorial triumph.

Meanwhile, you remain seated, mouth agape, an image of stunned disbelief etched across your face.

You address Kitten with a scolding tone, attempting to impart a sense of reprimand into the air. “You can't do that, Kitten!” you assert, a firmness in your voice attempting to breach the language barrier between human and feline.

Amidst the aftermath, a hesitant chuckle escapes your lips, a soft attempt to diffuse the tension that lingers in the air. “Also, you're gonna leave me single forever if you do that,” you jest, the words bearing the weight of both humor and a subtle unease.

In the ambiguous space between laughter and contemplation, you grapple with the conflicting emotions stirred by Kitten's unexpected display of protectiveness—a complex blend of gratitude, amusement, and the uncharted territories of understanding the intricate dynamics of companionship with a creature whose language transcends the boundaries of words.

A solitary figure with raven-black hair occupies a corner table in the cafe, his presence shrouded in an air of quiet mystery that tugs at the edges of your memory.

Intrigued, you've stolen glances at him, an unspoken connection sparking curiosity within you.

The man, seemingly lost in a world of words and sketches within the pages of his journal, emanates a strange familiarity that dances on the fringes of your consciousness.

As he sips on his coffee, a poignant picture of solitude and anticipation, you can't help but wonder about the untold story woven into the fabric of his contemplative gaze. Perhaps he's a poet awaiting inspiration, or maybe, like you, he's caught in the delicate dance of anticipation, waiting for someone who may never arrive.

His long, pitch-black hair cascades in soft curls, framing a face adorned with dark, expressive eyes. The fair and creamy complexion of his skin, paired with lips tinged with the aftermath of fervent bites, adds an air of mystery to his features. His hands, adorned with prominent veins, move with purpose across the pages of his journal, translating the thoughts within his mind into tangible strokes. Clad in a black leather biker jacket and ripped jeans, he emanates a ‘bad boy’ allure that might not align with your usual preferences, yet there's an undeniable handsomeness that transcends the surface. As you observe, the truth unfolds—looks can be deceiving, you know.

As the hands of the clock inch towards the conclusion of your shift, you notice the enigmatic man with the pitch-black hair has vanished, leaving only the echo of his presence lingering in the now vacant corner.

The air is charged with the unspoken allure of an encounter that slipped through the fingers of time.

Packing up your belongings, you carry the weight of curiosity with you as you embark on the journey home, where the enigmatic enigma of Kitten awaits.

Kitten, sensing your return, greets you with a symphony of affectionate meows. Your hand instinctively reaches out, weaving a tapestry of gentle pats and strokes, an unspoken language shared between human and feline. With a contented sigh escaping your lips, you murmur, “Happy to be home.”

In the quiet sanctuary of your apartment, you find yourself recounting the day's enigmatic encounter to Kitten, the words lingering in the air like a shared secret between kindred spirits. “I saw the loneliest guy today, Kitten. It felt like he was waiting for someone, but destiny stood him up.”

As the words escape your lips, Kitten's attentive gaze reflects an unspoken understanding, a silent pact shared between you and your feline confidant.

Your fingers delicately dance behind Kitten's ears, a gesture that elicits a symphony of contented purrs, resonating within the confines of your quiet haven.

The next day unfolds like a familiar scene, the cafe's atmosphere steeped in the aroma of coffee and the rustle of pages turning.

Once again, the mysterious black-haired man graces the corner with his presence, accompanied by a steaming cup of coffee and the enigmatic dance of his pen across the pages of his journal.

Your curiosity, a flame flickering in the recesses of your thoughts, draws you to the edge of decision — to approach and unravel the mysteries that cloak him. Yet, an invisible barrier holds you back, a silent pact with yourself not to disturb the solitary poet whose verses remain unread.

The elusive man, shrouded in the mystery of unread words, remains a realm unexplored, as each coffee order becomes a bridge guarded by your coworker.

As the day unfolds, the mysterious man persists in his corner, a captivating enigma that draws your attention like a moth to a flame.

The rhythmic ballet of your daily routine continues, an intricate dance of serving customers while stealing glances in his direction.

In the quiet recesses of your mind, a burning question simmers – who could possibly stand up this captivating soul, adorned with the allure of dark hair and an air of mystery that commands the room?

After days of observing the silent saga of the man and his solitude, a week of unbroken routine, your empathy swells like a rising tide.

A magnetic force compels you to bridge the distance, and against the backdrop of the cafe's ambient hum, your feet, as if guided by an invisible hand, carry you to the table where he patiently awaits an absent companion.

With a mix of curiosity and compassion, you settle into the chair opposite him, breaking the invisible barrier that held you apart.

As your presence disrupts the solitude he had grown accustomed to, his intense gaze, reminiscent of a predatory feline, lifts from the pages of his journal to meet your own. The sharpness in his eyes feels like a calculated assessment, causing a subtle tremor to course through you. You gulp.

“Hi,” you start, the uncertainty palpable in your voice. Attempting to mask your nervousness, your fingers run through your hair, a feeble defense against the anxious tide.

“I’ve noticed you here alone for the past few days, and I just—” Your words stumble, caught in the rush, but before you can continue, he interjects with a voice sharp as a blade, his eyes piercing through you like he can unravel your deepest secrets.

“Are you stalking me?” The question hangs in the air, and his gaze feels like an X-ray, laying bare your darkest thoughts. Your body seizes, frozen in the penetrating gaze that seems to pry into the very recesses of your soul.

Why does his voice carry a hint of familiarity, resonating through the air like an echo from another time?

His very presence, too, feels like a distant memory, even though you're certain you hadn't laid eyes on him before he entered the cafe a week ago.

A subtle smirk plays on his lips, a realization dawning on you that he's asked a question. As you attempt to gather your thoughts, you find yourself choking on air, grappling to string together a coherent response.

“I'm kidding. I know you work here,” he chuckles, and you release a breath you hadn't realized you were holding. Your shoulders ease, and in an instant, you respond with a soft smile, a subtle connection forming in that shared moment of relief.

“Are you waiting for someone?” you inquire, and a smile graces his face, revealing gleaming white teeth and pink gums. He looks cute. Dangerously so.

“Nah. She just arrived.” Your eyes light up. Finally, his date has shown up! You start to rise from your chair, eager to make space for his companion. He looks up at you, a curious expression on his face, and asks, “What are you doing?”

“Making room for your date?” you quip, utterly dumbfounded.

“Date?” he asks with a raised brow. You nod, adding, “The one you’ve been waiting for.”

“But I’m already looking at her.” Your mouth hangs wide open; did you just hear him right? Is this a pickup line? And why on earth is it working?

You chuckle nervously, the sound a stark contrast to his calm and cool demeanor.

You ease back into your chair, and the conversation flows so naturally that you feel like you've known him for years.

Upon returning home, you excitedly share the details of your day with Kitten, recounting the encounter with the handsome man with his curly hair and piercing eyes. While you stroke Kitten and he purrs contentedly, you express your perplexity about the strange sense of familiarity the man emanated, despite being certain you've never met him before.

Kitten twirls and purrs in your lap, savoring the gentle strokes as you recline on your couch.

“I can't help but wonder if he'll be there again tomorrow,” you muse, your voice a soft melody to the room, accompanied by Kitten's content purrs.

He returned to the cafe the next day, and the next and the next turned into weeks.

He dedicates every moment to his secluded corner, and during your breaks you find solace in the cadence of your conversations. His name, Yoongi, resonates with the soulful poems that he breathes life into with his well-worn guitar. You’ve never heard him play or sing, but you look forward to the day you might.

His question pierces through the hum of the café, abruptly pulling you from your reverie as you delicately nibble on your muffin. “Are you heading home for the summer break?” he inquires, the unexpected interruption leaving a sweet and curious taste lingering on your lips.

As his question hangs in the air, you lock eyes with him, realizing he might not grasp the gravity of his inquiry.

There's a momentary sag in your shoulders, a silent acknowledgment of the pain that lies beneath. Gathering the strength to respond, you share a piece of your past, “No. My parents died when I was young.”

Regret casts a shadow over his striking features in an instant, and you witness a profound apology escaping from his lips.

“I'm holding up okay. It's a tale from a while back. A car accident took my parents, leaving just my little sister and me as survivors,” you share, a poignant sadness threading through your words, your eyes misting with the memories.

He tenderly offers words of comfort, a soothing balm for your weary soul, and you allow him to lift the heaviness that clings to your spirit.

You beam at him, grateful for the warmth that radiates from his kind soul, a presence you've grown to cherish over the past few months. “And you, any exciting plans for the summer?”

“I might have to go home to my parents for a bit, but I’m not sure yet,” he shares, absentmindedly running his fingers through his soft black locks, a gesture that makes you yearn for the touch of your own hand in that sea of darkness.

“I'm telling you, bitch!” Nari slaps Yuna's thigh, a bit too enthusiastically, causing her to flinch in pain, as Nari adds with a sly grin, “She's head over heels in loooove.”

You roll your eyes at both of them, their playful banter fading into background noise as you savor the drink that Yuna ordered for you.

You've navigated downtown, finding refuge in a cozy establishment where the ambient tunes, board games, and drinks create the perfect backdrop for reconnecting with your friends.

“I swear, I'm not head over heels or anything,” you insist, batting away their teasing with a playful smirk, all the while sipping on the drink that Yuna ordered for you.

“He’s just nice,” you add with a soft smile.

“You sure do talk about him a lot,” Yuna adds in a chuckle as she rubs her thigh.

“Well, he's an interesting person, and the conversations just flow,” you reply with a grin, downplaying the significance, but your friends exchange knowing glances that hint at their suspicions.

Nari takes a sip of her drink, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Speaking of crushes, your little companion, what's his name again? Kitten?”

You passionately defend Kitten, your eyes sparkling with affection. “Don't bring Kitten into this! I adore him,” you gush, wearing your love for the little furball as a badge of honor.

Nari shares her romantic wisdom, her words dripping with affection. “Cats are fine companions, but you should find a man who can bring you warmth and happiness,” she says, her eyes practically turning into hearts if this were a cartoon. You can't help but chuckle at her earnest advice.

Yuna playfully nudges your shoulder and suggests, “You should totally ask out this Yoongi guy. I mean, come on, you practically light up every time you talk about him.”

You pause, a moment of uncertainty hanging in the air. “Maybe,” you finally reply, your words carrying the weight of contemplation.

Nari's enthusiasm rings in your ears, a bit too loud in the cozy ambiance. “You don't have anything to lose, only more to gain!” she almost shouts, her excitement reaching its peak. Her words, fueled by a touch of intoxication, linger in the air, leaving you to ponder as you consider whether it's time to call it a night.

“Okay. I’ll ask him tomorrow.”

As you step into your apartment, Kitten greets you with an extra dose of affection, weaving himself between your legs and trailing you with heightened attention. Tonight, he appears more attuned to your every move, purring and twirling around your legs with an endearing neediness. Settling down, you can't resist his charms and find yourself seated, offering gentle strokes to his fur-covered frame.

As you wrap up your nightly routine and slip into your comfortable pajamas, you turn to Kitten with a question that has become a familiar part of your routine.

“I'm heading to bed, Kitten. You joining?” Kitten promptly leaps onto the bed, taking his customary place by your side.

However, tonight, there's a lingering sense of affection in his actions. He showers you with gentle licks, a gesture that brings a smile to your face. As sleep gradually claims you, your dreams are adorned with vivid images of obsidian eyes and a dark, star-studded sky.

As you awaken from a restful sleep, the absence of Kitten by your side strikes you like a sudden jolt.

Your initial response is to sit up, calling out for him, yet there's only silence in return.

The quietness, once comforting, now carries an eerie weight as you realize the profound impact Kitten has had on your daily life.

The room feels emptier, and a sense of unease settles in, disrupting the peace you've grown accustomed to.

A wave of melancholy washes over you, creating a heavy ache in your chest as you scan the familiar corners of your apartment, desperately searching for any sign of Kitten.

The unanswered questions pile up in your mind, a torrent of worries threatening to drown you. Did he, too, decide to leave, slipping away like others from your life?

The uncertainty gnaws at you, pushing you to venture into the quiet streets, hoping against hope to uncover the fate of your feline companion. Each step is a mix of trepidation and determination, a journey into the unknown to retrieve the missing piece of your daily existence.

A sense of desperation tightens its grip as you scour every nook and cranny, but Kitten remains elusive, leaving you with the bitter taste of vanishing hope.

The echoes of your unanswered calls hang in the air, blending with the growing unease that clings to you like a shadow. The once familiar spaces now feel like a maze, and you can't shake the sinking feeling that your luck is slipping away, slipping through your fingers like grains of sand. The haunting question persists: where could he be, and what could have taken him from your side?

With a mixture of determination and trepidation, your feet instinctively carry you back to the cafe.

The familiar chime announces your arrival, drawing the attention of your coworker, who casts a puzzled look your way. The early hour has caught them off guard, their raised eyebrow mirroring the questions that dance in your own mind.

As you scan the cozy confines of the cafe, a subtle panic begins to creep through your veins. The absence of Yoongi creates an uneasy knot in your stomach, but you reassure yourself, clinging to the hope that he might stroll in later, as he often does.

The hours drag on, each passing moment heightening the anticipation. As the door chimes with every newcomer, a flicker of hope dances in your chest, only to be extinguished when it's not Yoongi.

The day becomes a symphony of disappointment, and the subtle hope you clung to begins to dissipate, slipping through your fingers like elusive grains of sand. The cafe, once a haven of warmth and comfort, now feels eerily empty without the presence of his familiar silhouette.

As your shift draws to a close, a heavy sadness settles over you like a thick fog. The absence of Yoongi, who always brought a touch of warmth to the cafe, leaves an emptiness that echoes through the familiar surroundings. The unanswered questions linger in your mind, and a nagging worry creeps in — what could have kept him away?

The air is charged with uncertainty, and you can't shake the feeling that something might have happened to him.

A sudden realization hits you like a wave, as you recall Yoongi mentioning the possibility of traveling to his parents for the summer break.

The initial sting of disappointment transforms into a pang of concern. Questions swirl in your mind like a tempest – did he leave without saying goodbye? Why didn't he share his plans with you?

The uncertainty gnaws at your thoughts, and you grapple with the unknown, desperately seeking solace in the memories of your time together.

A disquieting sensation twists in your stomach, an ominous premonition casting a shadow over your thoughts. The unease tightens its grip, leaving you with an unsettling sense that something may have befallen Yoongi.

Your mind races through various scenarios, each more distressing than the last, as you grapple with the haunting uncertainty that looms over his absence.

Regret echoes through your thoughts like a haunting refrain. The absence of contact details with Yoongi leaves you grappling with the repercussions of a missed opportunity, a seemingly insignificant detail now carrying the weight of your uncertainty.

A sense of loss and yearning wraps around you, intensifying the void created by the absence of a farewell. The realization dawns that in the midst of budding connection, you failed to secure a bridge to traverse the distance that now separates you.

Each step on the journey home feels like a weighted march, the heaviness of unspoken goodbyes sinking into your bones.

Sorrow, like a relentless tide, floods your heart, consuming it with an ache that echoes through each footfall. Familiar pangs of longing claw at your chest, constricting breaths into fleeting gasps.

It's as if the very air you breathe carries the weight of an unfinished story, leaving you to navigate the foggy terrain of uncertainty, the poignant residue of an incomplete connection lingering in the spaces between each step.

A tempest of thoughts unleashes in your mind, a whirlwind of self-doubt and abandonment. The notion that he, too, might have slipped away like others before him wraps around your heart, squeezing it in an unforgiving grip. The ache is palpable, resonating through every fiber of your being. It's an anguish that cuts deep, a symphony of hurt orchestrated by the haunting possibility that echoes in the chambers of your wounded heart.

In the intricate tapestry of your time knowing him, he wasn't just a passing figure; he had etched himself into the mosaic of your life, becoming a fragment that held the essence of friendship.

You step into the sanctuary of your apartment, liberating your feet from the constraints of shoes, and collapse onto the couch, surrendering to its plush contours that cradle you in a cocoon of solace.

In the midst of trying to regain control of your racing breaths, a subtle vibration resonates from your pocket, drawing your attention like a lifeline. Retrieving your phone, you cast an intrigued glance at the illuminated screen, revealing an incoming call from Yuna.

With bated breath, you answer the call, the familiar cadence of Yuna's voice instantly arresting your senses.

An unexpected wave of emotions surges through you, freezing you in the moment as her words weave a narrative you weren't prepared for.

The weight of her words hangs heavy in the air, a heartbreaking tremor in her voice as she struggles to regain composure.

“Babe,” she utters, the tearful plea slicing through the silence like a dagger.

You can feel the gravity of the situation intensify as she reveals, “It's Nari,” the name echoing with a sense of foreboding that pierces through the air, leaving you breathless.

Dread hangs thick in the air as you muster the courage to ask, your voice trembling with fear and concern. “What about Nari?”

The words escape your lips, each syllable a hesitant step into the unknown, and as you sit up on your couch, a sense of urgency grips you, rendering you more alert than ever before.

The weight of Yuna's words crashes over you like an unrelenting wave, drowning your senses.

“She's gone,” Yuna sobs, her cries echoing in your ears.

A sudden chill grips your entire body, and the world around you blurs as your vision turns white.

Tears well up, threatening to spill over, and an indescribable ache settles in the core of your being. It feels as if the ground beneath you has shifted, leaving you suspended in a surreal and devastating moment.

Your voice quivers as you manage to break through the numbness, the question escaping your lips like a fragile whisper.

“How?” you repeat, the word catching in the tightness of your throat. Tears cascade down your cheeks, each drop carrying the weight of an ocean, a torrential release of the overwhelming emotions within you.

Your friend's voice wavers with sorrow as she delivers the painful revelation. “Apparently, she was sick and didn’t tell anybody…”

Each word, heavy with the burden of the unspoken, echoes in the emptiness of your apartment.

The truth, a bitter pill to swallow, lingers in the air, and you find it hard to comprehend the reality of the situation.

The walls of your sanctuary, once comforting, now press in on you, transforming your home into a claustrophobic cage of grief. The world outside seems to blur, and all that remains is the weight of disbelief settling on your shoulders.

The longing to share your grief with Yoongi intensifies, yet the barrier of not having his contact details becomes a painful obstacle. Your emotions, already tumultuous, now surge like a tempest within.

Frustration and sorrow intermingle, a chaotic dance that you try to contain.

As the weight of the news presses down on you, your nails unconsciously dig into your skin, seeking an outlet for the overwhelming emotions that threaten to consume you. The physical pain becomes a tangible manifestation of the emotional turmoil churning within.

The abruptness of Nari's illness and passing hits you like an unforeseen storm, leaving you grappling with disbelief.

Memories of her last moments flash vividly, and you question the cruel twist of fate that snatched away someone seemingly healthy. The sounds of inconsolable sobbing echo in your ears, and only then do you realize that the mournful cries tearing through the air belong to you.

“Are you alright?” Yuna asks you in sobs.

The weight of grief presses down on you, suffocating and relentless.

As the tears stream down your face, each one carries a piece of the pain that now resides within you.

“No,” you whisper, the word a feeble attempt to encapsulate the magnitude of your despair.

Your body curls inwards, seeking solace in the fetal position, as if you could fold away the anguish.

The phone lies beside you, a lifeline to Yuna's distant sobs, but it offers little comfort compared to the absent warmth of Kitten, whose presence could once bring solace to even the darkest moments.

The weight of Yuna's words hangs heavy in the air, a shroud of truth that you're forced to confront. “Babe, she had cancer and didn't want us to know… She wanted to live a happy life until the end,”

Yuna sobs again, and though her intent is to offer solace, the revelation feels like a cascade of heavy stones on your already burdened heart. The bitter sweetness of her desire for a joyful life juxtaposed with the pain of her silent struggle adds another layer to the grief, leaving you to grapple with the complexities of Nari's hidden battles.

“Yuna…,” you cry, the anguish in your voice echoing the profound pain that seems to squeeze the very life out of your heart.

“Why does everyone leave?”

The question hangs in the air, more rhetorical than expectant, as if you're not seeking an answer from Yuna but grappling with the cruel patterns of departure that life has woven into the fabric of your existence.

Each departure, like a thread pulled from the tapestry of your world, leaves an unraveled piece that never quite knits itself back together.

“I–, I don’t know,” she stammers through her tears, the weight of the unknown echoing in her voice, mirroring the uncertainty that now shrouds both of your lives.

“Promise we’ll be there for each other,” you declare, the weight of the words hanging in the air. It's a poignant plea, an acknowledgment of life's unpredictable twists. You understand that you can't ask for an eternity, but in this moment, you're determined to hold onto each other as tightly as time allows.

“Count on it,” she vows, her response flowing effortlessly, a testament to the unspoken bond between you two.

Despite the tightening in your throat, a glimmer of happiness sparks within you at the assurance she just gave.

Why must life be so fucking cruel, robbing you of everyone you hold dear?

An overwhelming urge to reconnect with your sister washes over you, a deep yearning fueled by the ache of prolonged silence between you.

“I want to call my sister,” you manage to say through your sobs, a desperate plea lacing your words. “Will you be alright, Yuna?” you ask, your concern breaking through the waves of grief that surround you both.

“Yeah. I mean, I'm fucking sad, but go ahead and call her. Can I come to your place tomorrow?” Yuna's voice carries a subtle plea, a shared understanding that neither of you wants to be alone in the midst of sorrow.

“Yeah, I'd love that,” you respond, your voice carrying the weight of grief and the faint glimmer of gratitude for the companionship that awaits tomorrow. As you attempt to dry your tears with a throw blanket on the couch, the room feels emptier than ever, and the ache in your heart persists.

“See you tomorrow,” she says before the call ends.

The hollowness in the room deepens, and you draw in a shaky breath, your gaze fixed on your phone. The background image captures a moment frozen in time, featuring you, Nari, and Yuna.

God, the ache of missing her intensifies, and you can't shake the heaviness in your chest.

You tighten your grip on the phone, each tear that escapes your eyes a silent testament to the pain in your heart. Determination wells up as you locate your sister's number, fingers tracing the familiar digits, ready to bridge the gap that time and distance have carved between you.

The rhythmic ringing echoes through the emptiness of your apartment, each tone a reminder of the solitude that now envelops you.

Anxiety gnaws at the edges of your thoughts as you anticipate the warmth of your sister's voice, a comfort you desperately need. Yet, the unanswered calls amplify the distance that separates you. With a heavy heart, you decide against leaving a message, the weight of unspoken words settling as you slump back onto the couch.

The sudden vibration of your phone startles you, and as you glance at the screen, the sight of your sister's name sparks a mixture of relief and anticipation. With a soft sniffle, you muster the strength to answer, “Hey, sis,” your voice laced with a blend of vulnerability and longing, reaching out across the digital expanse to bridge the emotional gap that separates you.

A chill courses through your body, rendering you motionless, as a deep, resonant voice resonates through the phone, catching you off guard.

“Hey,” his voice echoes through the phone, sending a shiver down your spine.

Your trembling hand clutches the device, and you find yourself holding your breath, caught in the sudden intensity of the moment.

“I'm Detective Kim,” he introduces himself, his voice echoing through the line. It carries a calm demeanor, yet beneath its surface, you detect a subtle undertone of sadness, adding a mysterious depth to his words.

This can't be good, you murmur to yourself, the words barely escaping your lips as a chill courses through your veins, turning your blood to ice once again.

“Are you Jiho's sister?” The detective's voice remains steady and calm, but beneath the surface, you sense an undercurrent of gravity and anticipation.

“Yes,” you reply, your voice catching in a sob as you struggle to contain your tears. The ominous feeling intensifies, and you can't shake the sinking realization that a detective is the one answering your sister's phone.

The air becomes heavy with uncertainty and fear.

“I'm deeply sorry to be the bearer of this news,” he begins with a sympathetic tone.

You inhale sharply, bracing yourself for the impact of the words that follow.

“Your sister has passed away.”

The world seems to shatter around you as the weight of his message settles in, leaving you breathless and heartbroken.

In that devastating moment, it feels as if the very foundation of your existence crumbles.

Your body and soul plummet through a void, each passing second an agonizing countdown to the inevitable impact that will shatter you into a million irreparable pieces.

The weight of grief bears down on you, and you're suspended in a free fall of despair.

You become acutely aware of your breath, or the lack thereof, as if the air itself has turned into a suffocating force, triggering a torrent of violent inhalations, each one a desperate attempt to grasp onto a reality that has just slipped through your fingers.

A heavy silence envelops the room as the detective imparts the devastating truth, each word landing with the weight of a sledgehammer on your fragile emotions. “She was killed,” he utters, the somber notes in his tone resonating like a funeral dirge, casting a pall over the already dim reality of your world.

A suffocating wave of panic crashes over you, rendering your extremities numb and your breath caught in the grip of invisible hands.

The room seems to close in as the detective's voice on the phone becomes a distant echo, his words lost in the disorienting whirlwind of your own mental tempest. It's a struggle to comprehend the standard condolences and procedures he details, as if reality itself is slipping through your trembling fingers.

Fucking hell. Is this hell?

In the wake of your parents' departure, you believed you had tasted the bitterest sorrow, yet today eclipses that agony without a shadow of a doubt.

You cast your phone aside on the couch, retreating to your bedroom, collapsing onto the bed. The anguish within erupts into violent sobs, an unrelenting torrent of tears flooding from your eyes, your entire frame convulsing with the weight of your grief.

You bury your face into the softness of the pillow, muffling the guttural scream that tears from your lungs.

The sound, a primal release of anguish, reverberates within the confines of your room. Screw the neighbors; right now, the universe needs to bear witness to the rawness of your pain.

What the fuck is up with this world? Everyone around you dies! Everyone leaves!

You can’t take it anymore.

As you surrender to the torrents of grief, you hope that tears might offer solace, a fleeting relief that could pave the way for much-needed sleep. Yet, despite your desperate attempts, the embrace of slumber eludes you, leaving you trapped in the clutches of your sorrow-soaked thoughts.

In an impulsive surge, you opt for a nocturnal stroll. Snatching your jacket, you step into the silent night, the residue of dried tears blending seamlessly with the ones that refuse to cease.

The moon above, a silent witness to the turmoil within, as your footsteps echo the rhythm of a heart weighed down by grief.

As you traverse the familiar streets of town, a magnetic pull guiding you to a cherished park, your sanctuary. Swiftly, you arrive and gingerly settle your weary frame onto a weathered bench, the cool night air offering a gentle caress to your battered soul.

As your gaze ascends to the enchanting tapestry of the night, a celestial dance of stars unfolds above. Tonight, the cosmic expanse seems to cradle the spirits of your sister and Nari, their luminous presence illuminating the vast darkness, a celestial reunion among the constellations.

As your tears persist, you fix your eyes upon the star-lit canvas above. Each gleaming star appears like a radiant jewel, casting an ethereal glow across the night. The beauty is undeniable, yet a poignant sadness lingers in your heart.

Compelled by an unspoken yearning, you embark on the solemn task of counting the stars, each one a celestial tribute to the cherished souls who now adorn the heavens.

The question echoes in your mind: Why?

Why do they blaze with such brilliance, akin to a dying star igniting in a final, magnificent burst before consuming everything in its cosmic embrace?

Your heart pounds violently against your ribcage, each beat echoing through your chest, and the air feels elusive, slipping away as if you're caught in a suffocating grip.

Life reveals its cruel nature, leaving you to grapple with the relentless question: Why does everyone leave? Why does the world around you crumble, stealing away those you hold dear?

An emptiness envelopes you, a void so profound it swallows every ounce of light. Darkness creeps in, and an irresistible urge emerges, coaxing you to surrender to its consuming embrace.

Perhaps it's time to release your grip on reality and join the celestial dance of those who have departed before you?

As the tears flow, perhaps this haunting void within will dissipate, bringing an end to the relentless ache that permeates every fiber of your being.

As the weight of loneliness bears down on you, an insidious desire to surrender, to slip into an eternal slumber, creeps through your shattered heart. The yearning for an endless sleep, where the fractured pieces of your soul find solace, consumes you. It's as if the very essence of your being is crumbling into irreparable fragments.

The fragments of your soul lie scattered, and the daunting question echoes in the hollow chambers of your despair—can you summon the strength to mend them once more, to piece together the shattered remnants of your being?

In the depths of your despair, a resolute realization surfaces — a quiet but unwavering knowing that, despite the relentless cruelty, you're not ready to surrender to the void. Life, as brutal as it may be, still holds threads of resilience within its intricate tapestry, and you find an ember of strength glowing amidst the shadows.

You divert your gaze downward, focusing on your hands nestled in your lap, choosing the tangible reality of your own existence over the distant allure of the star-studded night.

You harbor too many aspirations to surrender to despair. Your desires paint a vivid canvas of dreams: to find solace in the embrace of a kind-hearted partner, secure a fulfilling career, and relish the simple joys that life offers. Nari's silent battle with illness inspires you to embrace life with the same gusto, celebrating its moments without the need for validation.

In the midst of your fragmented existence, amidst the shattering pain, you crave it all. Yearning for the entirety of life's tapestry, even when it feels like it's unraveling.

Despite life's cruelty, there's an undeniable allure in its intricate beauty, compelling you to seek solace and embrace the stunning contradictions that define your life.

Amidst the tear-stained path, your resolve solidifies.

The decision made, you tread back to your apartment, the silent witness to your inner turmoil. Each step echoes with the weight of your emotions, a symphony of sorrow playing in the background.

The sanctuary of your home beckons, promising the respite that only sleep, albeit restless, can bring. Sleep, like a long-lost friend, embraces you swiftly this time. Grateful for the solace it brings, you sink into its comforting arms, the reprieve from the turmoil of the day unfolding like a gentle lullaby.

The chime of the doorbell resonates through your apartment, and you're roused from the depths of sleep. Yuna, true to her word, stands on the other side, a beacon of support in your time of need.

Embraced in a tight hug, tears stream down both your faces, the shared weight of grief transforming the silent embrace into a powerful testament of mutual understanding and shared sorrow.

Seated on the couch, you engage in a heartfelt conversation about the unpredictable journey of life—its highs and lows.

As a comforting silence settles between you, you reach for the remote and, with a flicker of distraction, decide on a mindless show. Wrapped in the embrace of shared grief, you find solace in the soft glow of the television, its images casting a gentle veil over your weary souls.

That night, Yuna stays over, a comforting presence that feels like a blessing in the midst of your overwhelming grief.

In the vulnerable hours of the night, you pour your heart out to Yuna.

Tears flow freely as you share the ache of losing your sister, the void left by Kitten's absence, and the fear that Yoongi might be gone forever. In the solace of shared sorrow, you find a glimmer of hope amidst the shadows.

In the tender embrace of Yuna, you find solace. Her comforting presence is a lifeline in the storm of grief, holding you close as tears cascade. Though she's often your pillar of strength, tonight you yearn to reciprocate, to be the support she's always been for you. It's a quiet understanding, an unspoken pact between friends navigating the unpredictable currents of life.

In the quiet depths of the night, as you share your pain with Yuna, a flicker of determination ignites within you. You yearn not just for solace but to become the architect of your own joy. The realization dawns that your happiness lies in the unwritten chapters of your own journey, waiting to be explored and embraced. It's a moment of self-discovery, a commitment to forge your path to happiness, independent and resilient.

With the dawn of a new day, you decide to embark on a journey of self-discovery.

Despite the weight of sorrow lingering in your chest, you resolve to savor life in all its transient splendor—embracing its beauty, acknowledging its ugliness, and reveling in every nuanced shade in between.

Each moment becomes a canvas, and you are determined to paint it with the vibrant strokes of resilience and newfound appreciation.

With unwavering determination, you approached your boss at the café, advocating for a shift in your work hours. The goal? To rekindle the pursuit of knowledge, to step back into the world of academia and reignite the spark of astrophysics that had once fueled your passion.

As the prospect of returning to school looms on the horizon, you recognize that the journey ahead is both a challenge and an opportunity—a chance to sculpt a future that you can genuinely be proud of, with each completed course marking a triumph over self-doubt and a step closer to the constellations of your dreams.

In the wake of that poignant night where two cherished souls departed, a few months have quietly slipped away.

In a tender gesture of support, Yuna encourages you to embrace the prospect of love once more. Unlike before, hesitation has no place in your heart this time.

With newfound courage, you step into the realm of dating, a journey tinged with both vulnerability and hope, as you navigate through the tapestry of emotions woven by the threads of the past and the promises of the future.

Life, a relentless journey, doesn't yield to simplicity, yet within its intricate folds, a subtle transformation occurs. It doesn't unravel swiftly, but with each passing day, it stitches together a mosaic of improvement, a gradual emergence from the shadows into the dappled light of a better tomorrow.

With each sunrise, a symphony of healing orchestrates within you, crescendoing into a melody that resonates louder, and you find solace in the fact that every dawn gifts you a version of yourself stronger and more resilient than the preceding day.

As winter unfurls its icy embrace, you find solace in the familiar touch of your cherished wool coat, the cozy sanctuary of fluffy sweaters enveloping you like a hug from a dear friend, and the softness of warm socks cradling your every step.

With a steaming cup of tea in hand, you dive into your studies, the brisk air outside contrasting with the warmth that courses through your veins.

Embarking on the journey to reclaim an unfinished chapter of your life, returning to the hallowed halls of academia, you revel in the triumphant echoes of resilience as you strive to complete the narrative you once set in motion.

As you tread homeward, the city draped in the melancholy hues of twilight, a fleeting silhouette dashes through the alleys, a phantom of darkness.

For the briefest moment, memories of Kitten's playful escapades dance in your mind, a bittersweet symphony of nostalgia.

A sigh, heavy with the weight of longing, escapes your lips, yet you trudge forward, navigating the shadows toward the warmth of your home.

In the intimate glow of your kitchen, you conjure a culinary masterpiece, a symphony of flavors orchestrated only for yourself. The sizzle of ingredients harmonizes with the rhythmic beat of your heart, a ritual of self-love that has become your refuge.

Many a time, you've crafted these delectable creations, some shared in the company of fleeting dates whose presence, like autumn leaves, brushed briefly against the canvas of your life, but leaving no lasting imprint on your heart.

Midway through the mundane task of stowing away dishes, a subtle and mysterious hum reverberates through your abode, originating from the vicinity of your door.

The air is suddenly filled with a familiar, distant melody—a soft and rhythmic meowing that sends a jolt of excitement through you.

Abandoning your chores, you rush to the door, fingers fumbling with the lock, and there, in all his glory, stands Kitten!

In a flurry of warmth and relief, you scoop up the cold, shivering Kitten into your embrace, quickly closing the door behind him. His meows echo gratitude, and a tender lick against your cheek seals the unspoken bond that time and distance failed to break.

In a million moments, you never fathomed seeing him again. Now, as he rests in your arms, elation courses through you like a celestial symphony, leaving you over the moon with sheer happiness.

His return is a testament to a bond beyond time, a friendship that defies the measure of days. It's not about the duration of his absence; it's about the joyous truth that he returned to you, stitching the fragments of your heart back together.

You rush to your cabinet, your heart pounding with both relief and excitement. Grabbing a can of cat food, you swiftly prepare a feast for Kitten, watching as he eagerly devours the meal, his hunger echoing the void his absence left in your life.

As you stroke Kitten's fur, you can't help but ponder on the mysteries that shroud his disappearance. His body, while not emaciated, carries the silent tales of his adventures.

You yearn to unravel the chapters of his feline escapades, wishing you could converse with him, share the unspoken hardships, and assure him that he's found a forever home in the warmth of your embrace.

In a breathless whisper, you confess, “I've missed you so much,” the weight of your longing carried in the tenderness of your voice.

A solitary tear, a testament to the emotions flooding your heart, escapes and dances down your cheek, mirroring the joy of a reunion long yearned for.

As the echoes of your affectionate words linger in the air, Kitten responds with a gentle purr, a harmonious melody that intertwines seamlessly with the sound of him relishing the meal.

Amidst the soft cadence of Kitten's purring, you find solace in the familiar presence of your feline companion. With a sigh, you decide to share the intricacies of the tumultuous journey you've undertaken since his absence. “So much has unfolded, Kitten,” you whisper, your voice a gentle reassurance, “a lot of shit, but also a lot of good.”

As Kitten finishes his meal, he responds with a symphony of content purrs, gracefully padding over to where you crouch. With a playful nudge against your legs, he seems to convey a silent acknowledgment, a shared moment of warmth and connection between old friends.

In the span of a few days, the void that Kitten's absence left has been filled with the comforting rhythm of his presence. You've poured out your heart to him, recounting the events and emotions that unfolded during his time away, as if catching him up on the chapters of your life.

Kitten, with his attentive eyes and soothing purrs, seems to understand more than most, providing a silent anchor in the storm of your experiences.

As you sink into the soft embrace of your couch, a contented smile plays on your lips. With Kitten nestled beside you, you share a profound realization that has taken root in your heart: ‘I live, so I love.’ The words hang in the air, a testament to the resilience you've found in the face of life's unpredictable twists. The TV hums with background noise, but in that moment, the simple joy of companionship fills the room.

In the quiet solitude of your apartment, you confide in Kitten, the loyal companion who has witnessed both your joys and sorrows. “I don't think he's coming back,” you murmur, a tinge of sadness lingering in your voice. As if attuned to your emotions, Kitten responds with a gentle meow, a feline reassurance that transcends words.

In the rhythmic cadence of your words, a sense of vulnerability emerges. “I know, I know. I don't need a man in my life. I get that,” you confess, your voice carrying the weight of self-awareness.

The clinking of utensils against pots and pans provides a subtle percussion to your thoughts as you continue, “But Yoongi was special, you know? Like he just got me... and I just wish for him to be happy doing whatever he's doing.” The aroma of dinner fills the air, mingling with the unspoken sentiments swirling in the room.

As you delicately feed Kitten some steamed broccoli, the notion of reuniting with Yoongi lingers in the air. “If he comes back, you should meet him – I'll introduce you!” The words spill from your lips, carrying a hopeful melody.

As you reminisce about Yoongi, a fond smile plays on your lips. “He's such a wonderful person. And handsome? Oh, his hands,” you begin, tracing the air with your fingers as if you can feel the texture of his presence. Memories flood back, each detail etched in your mind like a cherished photograph. “Long fingers, veiny hands,” you murmur, the words infused with a hint of admiration that even surprises you. The love for this man reverberates in your voice, a quiet confession to the depths of your feelings.

Kitten's melodic meow serenades the room as he gracefully weaves between your feet, his tail coiling affectionately around your calves like a comforting embrace.

“If you meet him, please don’t claw his back out like you did with that other guy. Yoongi is nice.”

With a heavy heart, you confide in Kitten, the weight of your worry evident in the rhythmic tapping of the spatula against the sizzling vegetables. “It's been nearly half a year, and I can't shake the feeling that something might have happened to him,” you murmur, the crackling sounds of the kitchen offering a somber backdrop to your uncertainty.

As the warmth of the meal envelops you and Kitten, you sit together, a silent companionship settling over the room. The simplicity of this moment strikes you, and a quiet realization unfolds – you love your life just as it is.

In the shared silence, you feel a sense of wholeness, a testimony to the goodness found in life's simplicity. Though your heart may still ache at times, you've come to accept that, too, as a part of the beautiful complexity that makes life what it is.

You're keenly aware that time is the remedy for healing, a gentle but persistent force that gradually eases the ache until one day, the pain will be a distant echo of what it once was.

Your weary limbs protest against the demands of a full-time class schedule and cafe shifts, revealing the hidden challenges of your daily grind. Fatigue clings to you like a shadow, and an involuntary yawn escapes.

With a wearied sigh, you address Kitten, your loyal companion in fatigue. “Ah, Kitten, today's been a battle. I'm going to bed early today,” you murmur, dragging your exhausted body to the bathroom in a nightly ritual.

Upon returning to your sanctuary, you find Kitten, already nestled in his customary spot, a comforting presence in the silent embrace of the night.

Sinking beneath the cozy duvet, you surrender to its tender embrace, the fabric cocooning you in a haven of softness. With a gentle pat, you acknowledge Kitten, “Thank you for being here,” you murmur before succumbing to the enchantment of dreamland.

As consciousness tiptoes back into your awareness, the remnants of dreams linger like elusive whispers in your mind. Gently awakening, you open your eyes to find the absence of Kitten.

Your eyes widen in astonishment, and your body tenses as you absorb the scene unfolding before you—a man, peacefully lost in the realm of dreams.

Your gaze follows the cascade of long, slightly curly, obsidian hair that drapes over his shoulders, tracing the contours of his creamy white skin. The play of morning light reveals a well-defined back, drawing your eyes down the elegant curve of his spine until they come to rest on a small, soft, plum-like ass. The realization hits you like a bolt— he's completely naked!

Why is your heart orchestrating a rapid symphony, each beat echoing in your ears like a thunderous drumroll? And what in the world is a naked stranger doing sprawled across your sheets as though he belongs there?

He slumbers in serene oblivion, emitting soft, melodic sighs that weave through the air, his chest gracefully ascending and descending in rhythmic dance with each tranquil breath.

Wait.

He seems familiar.

A gasp escapes your lips as you take a closer look, and the realization hits you like a bolt of lightning – it's Yoongi!

Shock and disbelief intertwine in your chest as you stare at his peaceful slumber.

Confusion and a hint of panic surge through you as your mind races with questions.

Why is Yoongi in your bed, and why on earth is he naked?

How did Yoongi end up here, and where is Kitten?

A myriad of questions spins through your mind, a turbulent storm of curiosity. As you ponder the mysteries, you belatedly notice Yoongi stirring, gracefully shifting to lie on his back.

Your face burns with embarrassment as the realization dawns that he's still completely naked. Heat rises to your cheeks when his half-erect dick brushes against his stomach, prompting you to instinctively shield your eyes, flustered by the unexpected sight.

You wrestle with the dilemma of whether to disturb his serene slumber or let him continue resting peacefully. The soft innocence in his sleeping form makes the decision more challenging, and you lean towards allowing him to bask in the tranquility of his dreams undisturbed.

Gently, you drape the comforting warmth of your duvet over him, a shield against the chill of the room. With nimble movements, you extract yourself from the bed, careful not to disturb the delicate balance of his slumber.

Confusion seizes your thoughts as you grapple with the surreal scenario—Yoongi peacefully nestled in your bed. You wrack your brain, questioning every sober memory, desperately trying to unearth the missing pieces that would explain his presence.

You step into the kitchen, a fleeting sense of unease prickling at your skin as you scan the room for Kitten, but he remains elusive, leaving a trace of uncertainty in the air.

A twinge of melancholy washes over you as Kitten remains elusive, but you console yourself with the hope that he might return, his absence merely a temporary void in your otherwise comforting routine.

You embark on the simple yet intimate act of preparing two steaming cups of coffee—one for yourself and one for the unexpected visitor who occupies your bed.

You seize a handful of aromatic coffee beans from a vintage jar, letting the rich fragrance envelop you as you crush them under the steady hum of your machine. With precision, you measure out the perfect amount, combining it with hot water, allowing the concoction to brew into a comforting elixir.

While the coffee brews, your mind races with bewildering thoughts about Yoongi's unexpected presence in your bed. Puzzlement clouds your senses as you contemplate every conceivable scenario.

Did he let himself in? Was there some mysterious way he could have gained access?

With a touch of anxiety, you even venture to your front door, checking for any signs of unauthorized entry, only to find it securely locked, shrouded in an eerie silence.

You're grappling with the perplexing mystery of Yoongi's appearance in your bed, as if he materialized out of thin air, defying all logic and reason, leaving you spellbound by the inexplicable magic that seems to have woven its way into your ordinary reality.

In the quiet chaos of your thoughts, Yoongi's presence offers more questions than answers, an enigmatic puzzle that seems to defy the ordinary. The absence of Kitten only adds another layer of mystery to the unfolding scene.

As the coffee machine dings, disrupting the contemplative silence, you're left grappling with the surreal conundrum before you, seeking clarity in the comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee.

With the warmth of freshly brewed coffee in your hands, you reenter the bedroom to discover Yoongi, now alert, draped in your duvet, a captivating silhouette in the soft morning light.

Your greeting falters as you nervously stammer, “H–, Hi,” setting the two mugs of coffee on your nightstand. Yoongi's gaze, sharp and feline-like, traces your every move, creating a palpable tension in the air.

An unfamiliar nervousness grips you in his presence, an unusual sensation considering your usual ease around him. Perhaps it's the fact that he's naked, his gaze akin to a predator eyeing down its prey, intensifying the air with an unspoken tension.

“Hey,” finally breaking the silence, he greets you with a low grumble, scratching his head and letting out a lazy yawn.

His body exudes a captivating blend of softness and defined muscles, a captivating sight that—

His voice, laced with a teasing smirk, breaks the tension. “Can't stop staring at my dick, huh?”

Your throat tightens as you realize you've been caught in the act, silently observing him. Panic sets in – does he think you're a freak now? Fantastic.

You let out a nervous chuckle, deliberately shifting your gaze away from the obvious bulge in the duvet around his lap. “What are you doing here, Yoongi? And why are you naked?” you inquire, genuinely puzzled.

He chuckles, a low sound that sends a shiver down your spine, and you can't help but feel a tinge of unease. “You haven't figured it out yet?” he teases, his words hanging in the air, leaving you in suspense.

You must resemble a walking question mark, because his chuckles only intensify. It's as if he finds your confusion amusing, and you're left standing there, desperate for answers in the midst of his enigmatic laughter.

In a soft tone laced with a smirk, he utters, “Kitten.”

Your gaze fixates on him, bewildered. Kitten? Is he referring to your cat?

Your jaw drops as he gracefully emerges from the bed, the duvet cascading off his frame. In his unabashed nudity, he strides toward you.

He inches closer, the proximity almost causing your lips to collide. A surge of warmth courses through you when he delicately tucks a stray strand of your hair behind your ear.

“I’m a shapeshifter,” his revelation hangs in the air, the weight of it palpable, and as he locks eyes with you, searching for any flicker of discomfort, the truth settles. Before you can process it fully, he leans in, capturing your lips with an irresistible surge of passion.

His lips, soft and inviting, embark on a slow yet passionate dance, as if reuniting with a long-lost lover. Responding eagerly, you part your lips, allowing the kiss to deepen, and in that electrifying moment, your entire body succumbs to a sensation akin to melting butter.

You yield to his touch, molding your body to his as you sense the undeniable hardness of his arousal intimately pressing against your core.

Fuck.

In the midst of the heated moment, you draw back slightly to meet his gaze, the question hanging in the air, “So... you're Kitten?”

He offers no verbal response, just a low, affirmative hum, before plunging back into another intoxicating kiss.

You surrender to the sensation, feeling the firm grip of his hands on your waist as they journey upward beneath the fabric of your well-worn shirt.

His touch ignites a trail of sensations, tracing a path across your body, sending electric shivers as he lifts your shirt, gently grazing against the contours of your breasts.

Under the intensity of his gaze, your body responds, a flush of heat spreading through you, your nipples hardening in response. He emits a low, satisfied hum, as if relishing the effect he has on you.

Effortlessly, he works to level the playing field, swiftly undressing you as if in a race against time. With a purposeful tug, he eases your shorts down, a silent declaration of his desire.

Bare before him, clad only in a simple black panty adorned with delicate pink hearts, you can't shake the vulnerability coursing through you. A sudden urge to conceal yourself washes over, a reaction to the raw exposure in this intimate moment.

“Don't shy away, you're stunning,” Yoongi murmurs, his firm grip on your hips drawing you closer to his naked body. The undeniable heat of his arousal presses against your core, a tangible reminder of the desire smoldering between you.

Gratitude escapes your lips in a hushed tone, your cheeks tinged with a warm blush.

“Now, let’s get these off you, yeah?” with a mischievous glint in his eyes, he hooks his fingers inside the fabric of your panties, teasingly tugging them down. He pauses, seeking your consent, before sensually sliding them all the way down your legs.

As he slides your panties down, a sudden awareness of your arousal hits you, intensified by the cool rush of air against your heated core.

As they fall to the floor, Yoongi swiftly snatches up your panties, bringing them to his face to inhale the intoxicating essence of your arousal, his eyes darkening with desire.

Why does that look so utterly sinful, setting off a delicious rush of arousal coursing through your veins, leaving you breathless in its wake?

As the intoxicating scent of you envelops him, he murmurs, “Damn, you smell good,” his eyes dilating with an unmistakable hunger.

“I wonder if you taste as good as you smell.”

In the raw vulnerability of your shared nakedness, he guides your body back to the bed, gently laying you down, his presence a magnetic force, hovering above you.

He immerses himself in the expanse of your neck, a symphony of sensations unfolding – a delicate ballet of tender kisses, followed by the electrifying nip of his teeth grazing the juncture between your neck and shoulder.

You moan in unabashed pleasure, your hands instinctively seeking refuge on his chiseled pectorals, anchoring yourself amidst the rising waves of bliss.

Yoongi's gaze shifts to the mirror positioned strategically in front of your bed. “I've been meaning to ask,” he smirks, locking eyes with you, “why do you have a mirror in front of your bed?”

You squirm beneath him, breath catching.”'It's part of my wardrobe panels,” you admit, your voice a fragile melody.

He chuckles, a low and enticing sound, his smirk dancing on his lips. “I don't think that's why the whole panel is mirrors,” he says, sitting up slightly. His finger traces a slow, teasing path from your collarbones to your breasts, sending shivers of anticipation racing through your body.

He leans in, his breath sending a shiver down your spine, and in a deep, low voice, he murmurs into your ear, “You're a dirty one, aren't you?”

His degrading words make your breath hitch instantly, and you involuntarily clench your thighs together. As you shake your head in disagreement, he just smirks, unconvinced.

His chuckle resonates in the room as he asks, “Do you enjoy watching yourself in the mirrors?” Sitting up, he moves to the foot of the bed, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous spark.

He gracefully steps out of the bed, casting a predatory gaze as he hovers over you, an aura of irresistible allure surrounding him.

With unwavering determination, he declares, “You're going to watch yourself in the mirror as I fuck your pussy with my tongue.” In a single, fluid motion, he seizes both of your thighs, pulling you to the foot of the bed, sending a thrilling jolt through your senses.

Despite the heat coursing through your entire being, a light chuckle escapes your lips. However, the mirth dissipates as you lock eyes with the intensity in Yoongi's dark gaze.

“Sit up,” his command echoes through the room, and as he gracefully lowers himself between your legs, a thrilling anticipation courses through the air.

From your elevated position, you admire the tousled chaos of his hair, a disheveled masterpiece that only enhances his captivating allure. His eyes gleam with a mischievous spark, a silent promise of the intensity that is about to unfold.

You seize his cheeks with urgency, your voice dripping with desire, a fervent plea escaping your lips, “Fuck. Yoongi, please eat me out.”

He moistens his lips with a teasing chuckle, descending eagerly towards your already soaked center.

He expertly widens the gap between your legs, creating a perfect haven for himself before delving into your pussy with fervent devotion.

With a tantalizing finesse, he starts with a subtle stroke of his tongue along your folds, gradually ascending to the apex of your clit, eliciting a fervent moan that echoes in the room.

As waves of pleasure cascade through you, your fingers instinctively entwine in his tousled locks, gently pulling as he skillfully devotes his attention to the exquisite dance of his tongue and lips on your pulsating core.

Gasping for breath, your anticipation mounts, every nerve tingling with pleasure, as Yoongi's rhythmic strokes across your intimate folds propel you toward a climax, your toes curling in ecstasy.

Pausing momentarily, he murmurs in appreciation, “You taste even better than you smell, Kitten,” his words sending a shiver down your spine.

You're on the verge of asking him about the nickname ‘Kitten,’ but his tongue explores your folds, leaving you breathless and unable to form words.

Your question dissolves in the heat of the moment, the building climax taking center stage as you lose yourself in the pursuit of pleasure.

Lost in the waves of ecstasy, you can't resist the urge to surrender, closing your eyes as Yoongi works his magic with undeniable expertise.

“No, no, no. Look at yourself in the mirror, Kitten.”

“Why do—” before you can finish your question, it fades away on your tongue as Yoongi plunges back into pleasuring your core with a renewed intensity, leaving your thoughts swallowed by the whirlwind of sensations.

As you glance at the mirror, you catch a glimpse of your own blissful expression, framed by Yoongi's tousled black hair nestled between your thighs. The sight is nothing short of breathtaking, a sight of pleasure that leaves you utterly captivated.

The provocative scene unfolding in the mirror intensifies your arousal, your breath hitching in tandem with the escalating desire pulsating through your veins.

“Yoongi, I’m—” your plea catches in your throat as Yoongi skillfully responds, his hand finding your pulsating clit, heightening the pleasure while he continues to ravish you with his insatiable tongue.

His fingers dance in rhythmic circles over your throbbing clit, coaxing the tension from your core. As the knot unravels, a wave of blissful release washes over you, leaving you breathless and trembling in its wake.

Ecstasy courses through your veins, your toes curling, muscles tightening, and in that moment, an unexpected surge of pleasure hits you like a sneeze that never comes. You release a symphony of moans, surrendering to the intense climax that Yoongi skillfully orchestrates with his talented tongue.

He continues to suck, savoring every drop of your essence, an insatiable thirst in his eyes matching the fervor of the intimate dance between your bodies.

As the intensity peaks, you gently tap his shoulder, signaling him to withdraw. He complies with a sensual slurp, leaving you breathless and tingling with the echoes of pleasure.

A mischievous grin stretches across his face as he licks his lips, “You're incredible, Kitten.”

You arch an eyebrow, curiosity coloring your tone, “Why do you keep calling me ‘Kitten’? You’re Kitten.”

He erupts in laughter, a symphony that resonates through the room, his chest rising and falling with the melody of mirth, and in that moment, he's a captivating masterpiece.

“Do I really look like a Kitten to you?” he inquires, a playful glint in his eyes as he gently nudges you back onto the bed.

Your words stumble as you search for a response, “Not really,” you admit, offering him a small yet tender smile.

“But you look cute and sweet, like a good Kitten,” he murmurs, his hands exploring the curves of your breasts.

A low moan escapes your lips as he teases your nipples with a playful twist, igniting a fresh surge of desire that pools in the growing heat between your thighs.

As you ache for the feel of his throbbing length, you attempt to grab hold of him, but like a fleeting mirage, he skillfully eludes your touch, leaving you yearning for the intimate connection that inches away with each evasive movement.

“Nah. I just want to fuck you silly,” he rasps, eyes tracing every bead of sweat on your flushed skin, reveling in the primal rhythm of your hurried breaths.

“If you want to, that is?” he teases, his voice a sultry whisper, as he takes control, guiding himself between your legs with a confident hand that promises a morning full of pleasure.

As you feel the weight of his gaze, you gulp, wondering how, in that heated moment, he could question what you crave. It's undeniable – you want him, and the intensity of your desire hangs in the air between you, palpable and unspoken.

Your breath catches as you respond, the words tumbling from your lips in a heated rush, “Fuck, yes, Yoongi. I want you inside me, now,” the urgency in your voice betraying the intensity of your desire.

A low, rumbling chuckle escapes him, the sound sending a shiver down your spine as he replies, “Please” with a teasing glint in his eyes.

“‘Please’ what?”

“Say ‘please’.”

You huff, incredulous at his audacity. The desire in his eyes is undeniable, and he seems to enjoy the game. Part of you rebels, tempted to be a brat just to irk him, but the need for his touch overrides any resistance. You crave his intimacy, aching for his dick despite the defiance lingering in the air.

“Fuck this,” you grumble, frustration evident in your voice. In that fleeting moment, you catch a glimpse of Yoongi pulling back, as if reconsidering his stance.

“Please! Don’t leave,” you plead desperately, your sincerity laid bare. The smirk on his face deepens, as if savoring the intensity of your plea.

“Please fuck me, Yoongi.”

His satisfaction evident, he rewards you with a swift kiss before aligning himself with your eager entrance, anticipation humming in the air.

Your arousal has reached a point where there's no discomfort, just a perfect fit as he slides into you, your wetness welcoming and enveloping him seamlessly.

He hisses as he eases into your warm, tight walls, and you can feel him doing his best to restrain himself.

You release a breathy huff as he fully penetrates, his balls gently meeting the warmth of your folds.

He lets out a guttural groan as he steadies himself, withdrawing only to plunge back in with an intensity that sends shivers through your body.

In this intimate position, with him above you, every nuance of his pleasure is on full display—the way his nose scrunches in delight, his soft lips occasionally nibbling the bottom one in sheer ecstasy.

Between each thrust, he can't help but express his amazement, his voice low and husky, “Damn. You're so tight.”

You know. It’s been awhile.

As he moves within you with an increased rhythm, his hands find your breasts, skillfully massaging them in sync with his fervent thrusts, creating a symphony of pleasure that courses through your entire body.

Ecstasy courses through you, and in the midst of your fervent pleasure, you can't help but release a breathless exclamation, “Fuck, Yoongi!”

Every skillful thrust seems to find its mark, synchronized with the enticing dance of his fingers on your hardened nipples. Pleasure envelops you, clouding your thoughts in a haze of ecstasy.

Your pleasure intensifies as Yoongi skillfully pinches your nipples, eliciting a symphony of moans that harmonize with the rhythmic dance of his passionate thrusts.

Sensations ripple through you, and the desire to reciprocate Yoongi's pleasure builds within you. You yearn to give him the same ecstasy he's generously bestowed upon you.

Amidst the rhythmic cadence of Yoongi's thrusts, a bold request escapes your lips. Your gaze, laced with desire, meets his, and with a subtle plea in your eyes, you softly murmur, “Yoongi—, I want to ride you. Please.”

With a devilish grin, Yoongi withdraws from your embrace, reclining on the bed, his eyes ablaze with anticipation.

His voice, laced with desire, sends shivers down your spine as he commands, “Then you're gonna watch in the mirrors as you fuck yourself on my dick,” reclining with his head angled towards the mirrors.

Mounting him, you position yourself strategically, both of you reflected in the mirror—a tantalizing image of entangled limbs, the intensity of the moment etched in your heaving, sweat-glistened bodies.

Grasping his throbbing dick, he hisses in anticipation as you deftly align your eager entrance with his cock.

With a fluid motion, you descend onto his rigid cock, your velvet walls enveloping him in a tight, intoxicating embrace.

From below, Yoongi savors the view, his gaze lingering on the contours of your face, as if committing every detail to memory.

You guide the rhythm, your hands finding stability on his sculpted chest, setting the pace as you ride him with a mix of determination and desire.

Your movements cascade, a slow dance that gradually builds momentum, each rise and fall carrying a symphony of pleasure and anticipation.

As you gaze upon your reflection, the flush of arousal paints your cheeks, your disheveled hair framing your face like an unruly halo, and your breasts dance in perfect harmony with the rhythm of your passionate movements.

The person in the mirror seems like a stranger, a sensual revelation you never knew existed within you. The mirrors, always present but never before utilized for sex, now reflect a version of yourself that’s both thrilling and new.

Heat courses through your veins, an intoxicating blend of arousal and empowerment, as you observe your own uninhibited reflection. With newfound vigor, you escalate the rhythm, riding Yoongi more vigorously. His appreciative groans and tender gaze mirror the intensity of the moment.

Unbridled desire takes over as your hands instinctively find their way to Yoongi's neck. Without a conscious thought, your fingers glide over the warmth of his skin, gently encircling his throat.

An electrifying jolt courses through you as you sense Yoongi's involuntary twitch within you, and you catch the ragged rhythm of his breath.

Panic courses through you, and you hastily retract your hands, realizing with a shock that you had unintentionally exerted pressure on Yoongi's throat. “Oh my God! I'm so sorry!” you blurt out, your apology a mix of concern and embarrassment.

“It's fine, Kitten. I like it,” he reassures you with a devilish grin, seizing your hands and guiding them back around his neck, his eyes sparking with a hint of mischief.

You shoot him a concerned glance, pausing your movements to ensure he's okay. Once he reassures you with a nod, signaling his approval, you dive back into the rhythm you had before.

With a newfound boldness, you tighten your grip around his throat, drawing out another satisfying twitch from him. His reaction sends a surge of pleasure through you as he hits that sweet spot, causing a kaleidoscope of sensations that make you see stars.

Your unrestrained moans fill the room, a symphony of desire that intertwines with the rhythmic sounds of your bodies colliding. The sight of Yoongi unraveling beneath your touch fuels a primal arousal, and you revel in the raw passion that courses through every fiber of your being.

“Fuck!” you pant.

“I’m gonna come,” you confess, the words escaping on a ragged breath, as you impale yourself on his dick. You’re body trembling as you hold the moment, savoring the anticipation before the inevitable plunge into ecstasy.

With a tender touch, you withdraw your hands from his throat, leaning down to kiss him. Your lips meet his in a dance of passion, tracing a path from his mouth to the very spots your fingers had claimed on his neck moments ago.

His low, guttural groan harmonizes with the rhythm as you ascend, reclaiming your perch on him. The dance begins anew, your body moving with purpose, riding the waves of pleasure set in motion by each calculated bounce on his throbbing length.

Yoongi's hands eagerly envelop your breasts, his fingers dancing with the rhythm of your fervent movements. With each descent onto him, you feel a surge of pleasure building, the shared pursuit of ecstasy driving you both towards the brink of blissful release.

His fingers deftly find your sensitive nipples, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. The sensation is so intense that a fractured, high-pitched man escapes your lips, your back arching involuntarily in the exquisite dance of pleasure and pain.

As your walls instinctively clench around his pulsating dick, you witness the pleasure etched across his face, a delightful scrunching of his features that mirrors the ecstasy coursing through both of you.

“Yoongi, I’m com—,” you gasp, a desperate plea laced in your voice. Your words are unnecessary; the vice-like grip of your walls and the erratic cadence of your breath already convey the impending release that hangs thick in the air.

“Come all over my dick,” he smirks through a groan, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “Watch yourself fall apart in the mirror.”

How can this man ignite such an intense flame within you? The knot in your stomach tightens once more, and as you surrender to it, a primal, drawn-out moan escapes your lips, echoing the depths of your desire.

With unyielding eyes, you lock onto your own reflection in the mirror as ecstasy courses through you, marking the moment you climax on his d*ck. Your rhythmic bouncing falters, but Yoongi, sensing your need, seizes your hips and propels the pace, driving you deeper into the intoxicating whirlwind of pleasure.

Your mouth hangs open, breaths rapid and erratic, akin to the aftermath of a sprint, while every inch of your body throbs with the residual heat of a fervent blaze.

“So beautiful—FUCK!” he moans, powering into you with an astonishing velocity, sending shivers down your spine.

His hold on your hips tightens, your hands finding refuge on his sculpted chest for support. Your body teeters on the edge of weightlessness and grounding, as if you'd unravel if Yoongi's firm grasp on your hips faltered.

Despite the fatigue washing over you, a surge of determination courses through your veins. Summoning the last reserves of your strength, you entwine your fingers around his neck once more. You sense the impending release in Yoongi's every movement, and you're determined to be the catalyst that propels him over the edge.

The moment your grip tightens around his throat, a powerful surge reverberates through his dick within you, sending intoxicating waves of pleasure coursing through your body. It's an electrifying sensation, making every touch between you more intense and satisfying.

With an intense squeeze, you lock eyes with Yoongi, a plea in your gaze. “Fill me up, Yoongi.”

In a primal release, he surrenders to the moment, thrusting into you with an erratic rhythm, coating your walls with the warmth of his climax.

“Ahh,” he pants, the rush of air filling his lungs as you release your grip on his neck, both of you engulfed in the aftermath of shared release.

You watch him in amazement as his fervent thrusts subside, and he eases into the embrace of your bed, a portrait of passion painted across his beautiful face.

As he gradually softens within you, you take the initiative to lift yourself off him, both of your essences clinging to your skin, a residue of your shared passion that you welcome without reservation.

As you recline beside him, a soft chuckle escapes your lips, a shared breathlessness enveloping both of you. The air in the room is charged with the echo of passion, leaving a tangible energy that binds your entangled forms together.

Breathless and sporting a satisfied grin, he turns to you, his eyes filled with a post-passion glow. “Fuck that was incredible,”' he murmurs, capturing the shared intensity of the moment in the curve of his smile.

An undeniable contentment colors your voice as you respond, “Yeah,” savoring the echoes of pleasure that linger in the air.

Suddenly, a spark of realization ignites within you, propelling you to move with swift purpose. You crawl back on top of him, a burst of energy that startles him, like a surprise in the midst of shared afterglow.

“Why did you leave me?” you inquire, a tinge of accusation laced with the bitter notes in your voice. “Without a word or a farewell. Why did you disappear without a trace?”

His eyes widen momentarily before giving way to an expression of anguish and sadness. A tug at your heart intensifies, as his face alone tells a story you fear can't be good.

He begins with a heavy admission, meeting your eyes with earnest sincerity, “My brother died.”

Your words stumble out in a rush, “Oh, God! I'm so sorry!” The unexpected revelation leaves you fumbling for the right response.

His words flow, carrying a weight of anger and grief, “It's alright. ButI felt so much anger and grief, you know?” he explains, “so much so that I couldn't shapeshift and was stuck in my cat form.”

You exhale a soft ‘aha’ at his words, and the realization washes over you— he was grappling with his own demons, just as you were.

“When I'm consumed by intense emotions, I lose control of my ability to shapeshift, and, and—” You witness a tearful welling in his eyes, prompting you to gently cup his cheeks, reassuring him that it's okay.

“I just wanted to be alone and I didn’t want to burden you…” A few tears spill from his eyes, and you tenderly catch them with your gentle fingers.

You lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, finding solace in the curve of his neck, where his soft minty scent envelops you like a comforting embrace.

“I am so fucking sorry you had to endure that. I understand, truly. But you would never be a burden to me,” you express, gazing into his eyes with a tenderness that echoes your sincerity.

“I want to be there for you,” you declare, your own tears mirroring the empathy in your eyes.

“Ah, shit. I didn’t mean to cry. But, you know, I understand,” you say, your words accompanied by a wry smile as tears trickle down your face and onto Yoongi’s cheeks.

“I’m sorry, Kitten. I know. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

He seizes your cheeks, tugging you into a tender and unhurried kiss. Time loses its grip, and you're oblivious to the remnants of his seed mingling with your essence, creating a slippery trail between your pussy and his still-slick pelvis.

Lost in the rhythm of your kisses with Yoongi, you surrender to the moment, where every touch feels like a missing puzzle piece seamlessly falling into place.

The two cups of coffee are long forgotten.

Authors note (3): Thank you so very much if you have made it this far 😭 I know this story is a lot – I’ve been dealing with a lot of different stuff for many years, and some of it just got to be too much a few weeks ago, and this story popped into my head. It was therapeutic to write. I don’t know if people will like it or not, but in the end, that’s not what it’s about. It will just exist here.

If you struggle with any of these subjects or emotions, you’re always welcome in my inbox – I’m not a trained psychologist or anything, though! But sometimes it is better to voice your feelings, than struggling in silence. Everybody’s welcome 🫂

I hope you’re doing well. Thank you for you 💜

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miss-hyoko · 1 year

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I just came back from prom night, it was a disaster. Can you make some happy prom hc with Riddle and Mallues please. Tysm in advance.

"I apologize for making you wait, dear customer. This is your order, a [Prom Night] gado-gado. Hopefully, the taste is to your liking. Enjoy."

Prom Night

Character(s): Riddle and Malleus

Summary: You're going to prom night with him

Tag(s) and warning(s): GN!Reader, fluff, platonic but can be read as romantic, one-sided crush from the boys to make it more cute

Note: Oh dear, I'm sorry to hear that your prom night didn't go so well. Albeit late, I hope this hc can cheer you up. Psst, my prom night is also a disaster, so this is quite self-indulgent of me. Thank you for the request, anon 💕💞💕

1. Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle spends almost an entire week trying to figure out how to ask you to be his prom date. But facing you directly, his mind suddenly goes blank, and he ALMOST can't remember anything he had practiced beforehand. He make a small talk at first to calm himself before finally asking you to be his partner for the prom with a flushed face. Even though Riddle attempted to act calm, the way his lips lifted into a small relieved smile when you agreed to his invitation easily revealed his real feelings.

After knowing that you will be Riddle's partner for the prom night, Cater becomes very enthusiastic and tries to persuade Riddle into wearing couple outfits with you, making Riddle's face instantly turn bright red upon hearing that. While the idea itself is pretty intriguing for him, he doesn't want to force you to dress according to his style. After all, everyone has different tastes in clothes and you also want to look your best on prom night, right?

Although a bit stiff, Riddle's actually one of the best partners you could ask for. He will pick you up on time and even bring you back safely. Totally the "Yes sir, I'll bring them home by 7pm" type of a guy. And being a gentleman he is, Riddle won't leave you alone without informing you first or if you tell him that you want to enjoy some time with your friends.

When the music for the slow dance starts, Riddle comes up to you with cheeks slightly red and offers his hand to you: silently asking your permission for a dance. Riddle might appear strict, but he knew how to slow dance. And his dance skills are more than superb. With one hand on your waist and the other holding your hand, Riddle slowly guides you around the dance floor while occasionally spinning to the slow, rhythmic music.

Being a prom night organizing committee member, Riddle knew that at the end of the prom, there would be a grand fireworks show. Therefore, before the prom ended, he took you out of the hall to sit on a bench in the courtyard where fireworks would be seen clearly. Because it was night, Riddle draped his suit jacket over you so you wouldn't catch a cold. Sitting side by side, the two of you watch the fireworks blooming beautifully in the night sky.

2. Malleus Draconia

He probably didn't know there was a prom night until you asked him to be your partner on your daily midnight strolling. In front of you, he accepted your invitation with a nod and a low chuckle. But internally, Malleus' heart was already leaping with joy. When he returns to his dorm later, he goes directly to Lilia to tell him about the good news and then starts making a preparation for himself.

As soon as he heard from Lilia that prom dates usually wear matching outfits, Malleus immediately contacted you to ask whether you wanted to do it. If you agree to wear matching outfits, he won't hesitate to order new clothes for you to match the suits he will wear to the prom. Not only clothes, but Malleus also gives you jewelry and other accessories from his own treasury that he feels would suit you.

When he comes to pick you up, Malleus brings you a corsage/boutonnières of green roses covered with preservation magic to ensure they don't wither. It pairs well with the boutonnières he wears on the lapel of his jacket; it lets people know you two are a prom date with just one glance. After making sure that you were ready to go, Malleus offered his arm for you to hold and teleported you both right into the center of the hall. Arriving surrounded by green light, you two make the grandest entrance ever.

Being your prom date, Malleus never leaves your side unless you ask him to do so. When it's time to dance, Malleus will hold his hand to you with a small smile, inviting you to dance with him. Raised as a prince of the Briar Valley, Malleus is exceptional at dancing. With ease, he moved his body in a smooth motion, sliding across the dance floor so gracefully while holding you close.

After dancing with Malleus, everyone's attention in the hall immediately fell on you two. If their stares make you uncomfortable, Malleus will immediately take you out to take a breather, maybe to the woods behind the school or Ramshackle's backyard. Using his magic, Malleus summons fireflies to light up the surroundings, making it look like a scene from a fairy tale. There, the two of you will start dancing again to the sound of the night insects before returning to the hall for the rest of the event.

#disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst wonderland #twst x reader #twst imagines #riddle rosehearts #malleus draconia #riddle rosehearts x reader #malleus draconia x reader #riddle x reader #malleus x reader #gado-gado #🍽️_ordered #👀_anonymous

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greeenchrysanthemums · 2 months

Text

Thus Always to Tyrants

Chapter 1: The Start of the Fall

Gem is the commander of the Wintertide royal army, Grian is the leader of a resistance hell bent on taking the crown down no matter the cost. It was only natural that they would become enemies.

Chapter 1 (you are here) -> Chapter 2

Read on ao3 ❀ here ❀

CW: past/mentioned war, non-graphic violence.

Words: 6,493

Pov: Gem

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

The tip of Gem’s sword punctured the dummy’s chest, right through the center of the worn out fabric X sewn into its burlap surface. She planted her foot right under where the blade was buried and kicked it away with enough force to send it crashing to the ground, freeing her sword in the process. The dummy rolled away from her, it’s sewn on face frowning up at her sadly in an almost comedic way as it went. She panted and stood up straight, rolling her shoulders to release some of the tension they had collected in the muscles.

Her ears were met with a round of clapping, and she turned to smile at the group of young knights and squires who had gathered at the edge of the training grounds to observe her sword play. She gave an elegant, somewhat exaggerated, bow before turning to look up at the sky. She shielded her eyes from the shining rays as she checked the sun’s position. It was just about noon by this point, if not nearing it. She should be on her way, lest she be late.

“That will be all from me, I’m afraid. I’m in danger of receiving a verbal lashing from sir Impulse.” She joked to the trainees with an apologetic smile.

“Do you really have to go?” One of the younger squires asked with big, pleading eyes. The others echoed the sentiment, all trying to convince her to stay and show them more.

“Unfortunately, yes, I do,” She said, “It’s a very important day today, as you all know, and my presence cannot be missed. Why don’t you lot work on what I just showed you until you are called to join us, and then you can show me your improvement another day. How does that sound?” There was a chorus of disappointed vocalisations, but they got back to their own work pretty quickly after a stern look was thrown their way.

She walked over to the fallen dummy and took a moment to stand it upright so that it was ready for the next person to use. She jogged over to where she had abandoned her water skin at the edge of the training ring, expertly tossing the practice sword she had borrowed into the designated barrel behind the dummies as she went. She took a few greedy gulps of sweet, crisp water before wiping away the sweat that had accumulated on her brow with the hem of her sleeve. Her clothes were damp with sweat and sticking to her skin, but where she was heading would be just as hot, if not more, so she was not worried about it.

She really should not have let herself be roped into showing off to the younger knights and squires, but how could she not? She simply could not resist their charms; she had no choice but to say yes when they came to her on her way out to beg that she show them a few basic forms. They reminded her far too much of her younger self, she supposed. Bright eyed, full of admiration, and ready and eager to learn. There had been someone once in her life that was willing to give in to her pleas and show her everything they knew, she only thought it fair that she be the same kind of role model in these kids' lives. She would just die if she didn’t live up to their expectations. If that meant she ended up a little late every now and then? So be it.

She hooked the skin to her belt and bid the young ones an enthusiastic farewell, which they returned with varying degrees of equal cheerfulness and disappointment, and with that, she was off. She darted through the servant's entrance and into the kitchen, where she quickly snagged a bread roll out of a basket on one of the counters, giggling at the indigent shout of “Commander!” from one of the cooks as she did so. She waved goodbye to them, and they rolled their eyes at her, crossing their arms as she rounded the corner into the hall.

She made her way through the corridors with the bread roll secured safely in her bite, the loud clanking of her armor bouncing off of the high walls. As she ran, she took the opportunity to fix her bun, which had gotten rather messy during her little showing off session. She tucked loose strands back where they belonged and tightened the binding holding the bun and the braid together. It probably still looked a right mess, but at least it was a little more presentable. With her hair out of her face, she took a large bite out of the roll, groaning at the sweet, buttery taste of it.

She haphazardly shoved the rest of the roll into her mouth and chewed as fast as she could without choking. She licked the flakey crumbs from her fingers and wiped the rest of the mess off on the skirt of her dress. Not the most polite or proper, and her mama would definitely scold her for doing it, but she had not the time to worry about manners. She was going to be late; later than she probably already was.

She waved to the on duty guard at the main door and he yelled for her to have a good time just as she exited earshot. She lifted up the hem of her dress as she ran down the front steps, trying to avoid tripping over the expanse of fabric. She stumbled a little on the final step, pinwheeling her arms in order to steady herself before carrying on her way.

She squinted against the sun in her eyes and slowed her pace to a light jog, a smile coming onto her face as she caught sight of her friends and the small group of guards waiting at the front gate for her. Impulse and Scott looked up as she skidded to a stop in front of them. She put her hands on her hips and bent slightly at the waist as she tried to catch her breath.

“Worry not, I am here!” She proudly declared as she straightened her stance.

“Here, and late.” Scott said from where he was leaned against the wall, arms crossed, and one foot propped against the stone. His long hair was pulled over his shoulder into a braid, a stray stand of the blue locks falling into his amused face. Impulse beside him stood more casually with his thumbs tucked into the belt around his waist. The eldest man stifled a laugh at her expense.

“I will have you know that I am barely late. It is hardly even noon yet!” Gem defended with her hands still on her hips, turning her nose up at him in a playful manner.

“Late is late, Commander,” Scott laughed, his heterochromatic eyes gleaming with delight at her defensiveness. Gem opened her mouth to continue the friendly argument, but was halted by Impulse’s hand’s clamping down on either of their shoulders.

“Alright, that’s enough out of you two. Let's be on our way before our absence is missed.” Impulse said. Despite being lower in rank than her, Impulse was the oldest out of them, and one of her best friends, so Gem took no offense when he gave her a light shove in the direction of the town.

Gem took the lead as they exited the front gates, bidding the guards up at the top of the tall wall a goodbye as she went. Truth be told, it really was not too much of an issue that they were heading out a little later than what they expected. She had long ago coordinated and dispatched another unit to go ahead of them early this morning. Not only that, but her presence was not something that was strictly required, it was a personal choice. Technically there was no way for them to be late to this event. Scott simply enjoyed pulling her leg, and she, his.

The journey to town didn’t take them very long - a journey that they could have made shorter had the capital not been too crowded to bring horses on a day like this - and in the blink of an eye they were entering the crowded city.

Stands and carts littered the usually empty streets, filled to the brim with rare goods and flooded by customers eager to get their hands on whatever was being offered. The decadent smell of cooking meats and spices filled her nose and caused her mouth to water, the faint hint of baked goods and perfumes lingering just under the surface. Lively music filled the air, as did laughter and conversation. Over the heads of many a passersby she could see a stage set up in the center of the city square, where a band was playing the jolly tune that could be heard.

If one was to look even further, they would also catch sight of even more booths and carts, designated entirely to games and things of the like. There were even places set up for the trading of livestock and furniture. Buildings were lined with decorations that were vibrant in colour.

The event wasn’t to officially begin for another quarter of an hour, but it appeared things were already in full swing.

The Festival of Good Tides; a yearly occurrence in Wintertide that was first established several years back after a truce had been called to end a three-year war between the kingdom and its neighbouring lands, Coral Crest. What was originally created as a way of boosting post war morale had become somewhat of a national holiday that the people looked forward to with great anticipation. Its popularity was also helped by the fact that the many activities and wares sold brought a large increase of income to the kingdom, something that many now relied on for the coming winter season, where food and warmth was a bit hard to come by without a bit of extra coin.

Though the festivities only lasted one day, the most was always made of it. Events and trading started at noon and extended into the evening until the sun had set and the stars had risen, from which point the king would make his appearance, give a speech and his blessing for the coming winter, and then the feast would begin. This grand dinner would go throughout the night and into the early morning, with more than enough food and alcohol to satisfy the masses provided by the castle.

Though it had only been a few years since the tradition had begun, its rise in popularity had been swift and widespread. People would come from all over the land just to partake in the joyous occasion, and get a piece of the financial opportunities that it offered.

During this time, Inns would become so crowded that people even took the opportunity to rent out rooms in their own homes to travelers. It was even common for those intending to sell to camp out with their traveling carts and stalls in the surrounding woods during the week leading up to the festival, so common that there were designated areas marked and prepped for them nearly a month in advance.

Gem never really got to enjoy the festival as the celebration that it was, preferring to act more as security so as to ensure that things didn’t get too out of hand, but it was still something that she looked forward to every year. It was one of many highlights that came from living in the capital. It reminded her of who she was here for, who she spent every day of her life training and fighting to protect.

It wasn’t too long ago that this land would have been rife with paranoia and poverty, the war having taken its toll on the people and the land itself. Gem basked in every second of the happiness that she could, while also remaining vigilant that nothing disturbed it. She would do anything to ensure that this time of peace lasted.

“I’m going to split off here,” Scott said, interrupting her thoughts. He jabbed his thumb over to the left of the path they were walking to indicate where he was going, “I think Jimmy’s stall is somewhere over there. I’m going to go see if I can haggle him out of some of the high-quality leather he sells before it is all snatched up. Assuming it hasn’t been already”

“Alright, we will see you at the feast.” Impulse said, giving him a rough pat on the shoulder as a farewell.

“Don’t forget to actually do your job while you’re at it.” Gem teased, punching him in the shoulder. She then motioned for two of the other knights to break off from the group to accompany Scott, and motioned for two others to go in the opposite direction, where she knew more knights were already patrolling. She didn’t want them too split up lest something happen and they need numbers, but it is never a bad idea to have eyes in more places.

“You know me, I’ve always got an eye out,” Scott replied.

“Give Jimmy and Tango my greetings” Gem cheerfully told him as he began to walk away, only to be met with a grimace thrown over his shoulder at her. She laughed at the expression. She knew that Scott’s relationship with his friend's partner was strained and awkward at best, and it was too much fun to tease him about it.

“I think I’m going to head over to my parents' cart. Would you like to come with me?” Impulse asked, looking around the crowded area to try and spot them over the masses.

“I think I am going to hang around the stage. A vast majority of fights always seem to break out in or around this area, so it is best I stay here for now.” Gem said, crossing her arms and scanning the crowd for anything, or anyone, that might be out of place.

“I know we’re here to keep an eye on things, but do try to have a little bit of fun, alright? This is, after all, a celebration!” Impulse insisted, gesturing towards the festivities with a broad sweep of his arms.

“I will do as I please. Give your mothers' my greetings, yes?” Gem asked, shooing him away and sending an extra knight after him with a gesture of her hand.

“Will do!” He gave her a two fingered salute before jogging away.

Gem would not lie and say she had not been tempted to go see Impulse’s parents with him. They were lovely people who adored her and always “snuck” handfuls of candy into the pockets of her dress when she wasn’t looking, but she had meant it when she said the city square and the stage were where 90% of the festival's problems broke out before the feast began, second only to the alcohol booths. Regardless of how rare issues actually were, though, she really would prefer to stay close so she can break up any altercations before they had a chance to escalate

She did, however, make a pit stop over to one of the meat carts to buy her and the remaining knights with her a rabbit and potato skew from one of the stands a little ways away from the center of the festival. It was a divine bit of food, and she would be a fool to not get some before it was all sold out. The bread roll she had snagged from the kitchen had done little to satiate her hunger and it would be foolish to work on an empty stomach, she reasoned as she thumbed coins over to the vendor and was handed a couple of skewers in return for her payment.

She distributed them among her remaining knights and then took a big bite out of the hearty meat as she led the way back towards the stage, just in time to catch the start of the next performance.

A stout young woman in a short sleeved, rose pink dress made her way up onto the stage with a bright smile on her face. A man followed behind her with a staff in his hand, and Gem grew giddy with excitement as she realized where this performance may be going. The man went down onto one knee and offered the woman the staff , which she accepted with a deep bow before he rushed off the stage.

She raised the staff, made of wood old and brittle with a glittering jewel entrapped in its spiraled tip, up towards the sky, and the crowd waited with bated breath. She whispered something under her breath, so quiet that it was sure not a soul in the crowd had heard her, but Gem watched her lips form the words, and she knew what was coming next.

For a moment nothing happened, and then light burst forth from the tip of the staff up into the sky in a coil of glittering gold. The strings of light rippled through the air before coming together to form the image of a bird big and grand, which spread its magneficent wings and flew over the crowd with a brilliant wooshing sound. The crowd screamed with delight and laughter as the bird let out a tremendous caw. It rose high into the sky before turning abruptly and diving straight for the stage floor. It exploded as it made contact with the ground, sending glittering shimmers of light, almost like millions of miniature stars, all across the wooden planks.

The crowd erupted into raucous cheers, which Gem joined in on, holding the now bare wooden skew in between her teeth in order to do so. The woman, her smiling face now red and shiny with sweat, bowed once more, holding her staff out to the side of her and placing a hand over her heart as she did so. She took a moment to wave to the crowd before rushing off stage to make way for the next performer.

What a brilliant performance, Gem thought. Magic in this day and age was a rare sight to see, so even simple spells like that were enough to leave most in awe.

Gem couldn’t even imagine what it had been like back in the day, when magic was rampant and widespread across the lands, when things like this were commonplace and about as impressive as someone tying their boots. Gem was well versed in what little there was to be known about magic, and it wasn’t a lot. There were very little records of that time long past, only a few books here, the odd fairytale there. There was barely even enough to tell the people of today that there was once a period of time where magic ruled the lands, and no one exactly knows what happened to it.

Now there were barely any folks left with any sort of magical inclination about them at all, and those who did had so little of it that they were barely able to do simple illusion spells like the one Gem just saw without being left utterly exhausted by their efforts.

She watched several more performances after this, ranging from a man who juggled an armful of colourful balls, a woman who balanced herself on the tip of a tall, slim poll, a woman who sang a beautiful song accompanied by her husband’s lute, a man who did a magic trick involving balls of fire, and many more.

Hours had passed and the next performer was just about to come up onto the stage when Gem caught something out of the corner of her eye. A swish of red fabric that was all too familiar to her; one of the reasons she always preferred to stay on her toes.

She inhaled sharply through her nose, sparks of anger already kindling in her chest as she whipped around to ensure it was who she thought it was, and without a doubt, it was him. There he was, standing there so close to the stage it would be no problem at all for him to climb upon it should he so wish to. He was eyeing the performer with an almost bored expression. Even with what little anonymity that stupid hood of his offered him, she would recognize him anywhere.

She marched towards the person, her hand moving towards her sword despite knowing she could not, and would not, use it in such a crowded space. Not when so many innocent lives were at risk of getting caught in the crossfire.

His head turned in her direction, his inky black eyes lighting up with amusement as he spotted her, a smirk spread across his bird-like face. He turned away and took off into the crowd, and Gem gave chase without a second thought.

He weaved through the crowd faster and faster, seamlessly avoiding bumping into people as he moved in a way not too dissimilar to a snake in the grass. She shouldered past people, yelling quick apologies to those who shouted in protest as she tried to keep up with the smaller man, his distinctive red cloak being the only thing that allowed her to keep sight of him through the tightly packed crowd.

He led her all the way towards the bustling merchant’s area. This part of the festival was full of richly coloured fabrics that were folded neatly along the surface of the carts that sold them, and there was a large variety of rare clothing article, which hung from racks in tidy rows on either side of her, easy to knock down and cause a fuss should she not move carefully. The air was thick with perfumes and the smell of dye, the scent thick and almost overpowering to her hard-working lungs as she ran through the area with delicate movements. He threw her a devious smile over his shoulder as he ducked under a rack of brightly coloured scarves, which she darted around, knowing she would not make it under.

She wasn’t a fool, she knew this was a game to him, and she wasn’t going to let him keep playing it.

The crowd was beginning to thin the further they got away from bustling city square, giving her the opportunity to increase her speed at last. Her armor rattled as she pushed herself to catch up to the nimble man, her blood rushing through her ears and her heart racing loudly. He attempted to duck into an alleyway, but she followed after before he could escape, turning sharply on her heels. She grabbed the back of his cloak, pulling him backwards and his hood down.

She ducked as a set of razor sharp talons ripped towards her face, messy pieces of her hair whipping past her field of vision as she grabbed the man’s wrist, bringing her palm up swiftly into his gut. He gasped as the air was knocked out of his small body. She took the opportunity to swing around into a kick, and her boot would have connected with his neck had he not raised his arms into a protective position in order to block the blow in the last moment. It was still enough to send him to the ground, however, and he hit the cobble with a bounce that sent him rolling.

He used the momentum to flip himself up into a crouching position, blood running down his chin from where he had presumably bit his tongue. His expression was still somewhat playful, but now had a much more serious glint to it. He kept his talons at the ready to counter Gem’s next attack, his body tense with anticipation. His sharp eyes were taunting her, waiting for her to make the next move as he always did.

“Grian.” She said, her hand on the hilt of her sword, ready to draw it at any moment.

“Commander” He said in turn, tilting his head unnaturally to the side, much like the owl he shared his attributes with.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, looking down her nose at him, her thumb inching her sword out of the sheath.

“Is it a crime to enjoy a national holiday like every other citizen in the kingdom?” He questioned in an almost teasing manner.

“Enough of your games! It is no mere coincidence that you would show up today of all days after months of silence.” Gem snapped, her shoulders rising in turn with the bubbling anger in her heart.

Grian, a slippery, troublemaking avian that she had been butting heads with on a near regular basis ever since she was a bright eyed squire fresh off of the snowy mountain she called home, eager to prove herself in her search for glory.

He had made his entrance into her life in a flashy and grand fashion that was bound to leave an impression on just about anyone; an explosion in the castle's courtyard. It had been small, only enough to take out a tiny portion of the wall. It had been so clearly a distraction, but after years of war, it had been enough to cause a panic that only Gem had been levelheaded enough to power her way through. It was her quick wit that allowed her to act swiftly in the face of potential danger, and her friendly and outgoing personality that let her realize she’d never seen his face around the castle before and clock that he was an intruder. She’d taken him down before he was able to do whatever it was that he was planning to do inside of the castle, but he’d still managed to escape in the end.

Along with an increase in security and guards stationed on the outer walls, the royal army gained another knight that day. Ironic that it would be the man who would come to torment her any chance he could in the near future that would see to it that she was promoted early in her career.

They met many times after that first initial encounter, and with each one it only became obvious that his goal from the very beginning was to tear down the Wintertide royal bloodline at any cost and destroy the peace she tried so hard to protect.

He sought to create chaos and disorder within the kingdom, and he would stop at nothing to see these goals met. It was only natural that they would become rivals, enemies that would be at constant odds with each other until the end of all things. Time and time again he would make his move against the royal family, and she was always there to put an end to it. It was an endless dance that they seemed to be trapped in indefinitely, for better or for worse.

As the years passed, he shifted his focus from the castle and the king to something else, something more attainable. He would commonly be found in the streets, yelling about injustices to anyone who would give him an ear.

At first, no one would pay him any mind, and he would always make a break for it the second Gem showed up to put a stop to his public disturbances. Over time, however, as taxes were raised to cover the costs of damages done to the land and economy by the war, and tensions between their neighbouring kingdom rose yet again, his ideals slowly but surely gained more and more popularity. People were moved by his cause, rallied by a hatred for a monarchy they felt provided them very little protection or surety in their time of unrest.

Suddenly he wasn’t a single person acting alone anymore; he was the leader of a group they had no way of knowing the scope of.

They had tried to take him and his mysterious resistance down for years now, but by some feat of the gods they had managed to avoid detection, as well as capture, the entire time. Even now, it is unknown just how large his resistance is, or the names of those who operate within it, making it difficult to do anything in opposition to the group. They had only a few names for certain they could connect to him, but they have all been as untraceable as he. Every tip and clue that came Gem's way only led to empty houses and cellars with nothing but clearly fake plans and documents within them that led her and her men right back to where they had started; with nothing at all.

All of this to say that he and his group are dangerous, effective people who should not be taken lightly, and his presence at The Festival of Good Tides bore nothing but ill tidings.

The avian sighed in an overly dramatic, fake manner, no doubt playing it up to get a rise out of her. She was ashamed to admit that it worked.

“Fine, I suppose there is no point in hiding it from you,” He said, his face once again breaking into a wide smile, “I was looking for you, actually. I knew if I showed up to the festival you would find me within seconds and pursue me until you had me in your grasp.”

“And, why, in god's name, were you seeking to put yourself right into my hands? A bit of a foolish thing to do, if you ask me. You know as well as I do that you are no match for me, birdy.” She taunted.

She swiftly pulled her sword from its sheath and put the tip of the blade to his unprotected neck. It was just long enough for her to close the distance between them without having to take so much as a step closer. His expression remained unbothered and playful, despite the obvious threats to his life.

“I wanted to give you a fair warning,” He replied cryptically.

“What in the hells does that mean?” She questioned, hackles once again rising.

“Something big is coming, Gem.” He answered. His eyes were wide and excited, almost manic even, as he said this. She had never seen him like this before in all her years knowing him.

“Something big? What in the blazes are you on about?” She asked, unease settling in her stomach like a heavy stone at the words

“You would do well to prepare yourself while you still can.” He said instead of giving her a real answer, “For all of our back and forth, I do not hate you. It would sure be a shame if something were to happen to you that could have been avoided.”

“Your mad rambles make little sense. Explain yourself before I have your head!” She threatened, pushing the tip of the sword against his throat further.

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you anymore than I already have, but you’ll find out in due time, believe in that. The end might be closer than you think.” He said, and her eyes widened, her mouth dropping open.

He took advantage of her brief shock to sweep his leg out faster than she could react. The hard, scaly part of his taloned foot grabbed a hold of her sword’s blade and wrenched the weapon out of her hands, sending it to the ground with a metallic clatter. She shouted in alarm and leaped towards the fallen sword in an attempt to regain control of the situation, but before she could even get close, Grian pulled a bottle out from somewhere within his cloak and smashed it against the ground at her feet.

There was a flash and a popping noise following the shattering of the glass, and thick smoke billowed out around them, obscuring her vision and filling her nose with the overbearing smell of sulfur. Her eyes burned, watering fiercely as she coughed, trying to clear her lungs of the smoke.

She waved the air in front of her, looking around frantically for the avian but seeing not a single sign of him. There wasn’t so much as a feather on the ground, nor where there any footprints in the grime showing where he’d taken off to. All there was in the now vacant cobble alley was her sword, flat against the ground where it had fallen.

“Gem!” She heard someone call out to her from behind.

She turned to find Impulse rushing towards her. He looked frantic, out of breath. A few other soldiers trailed behind him, visibly on edge as they looked around the smokey alley. Her old friend hurried to her side, grabbing her face and brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes as he turned her side to side to check for injuries.

She pulled away from him, wordlessly moving over to her abandoned sword and picking it up from the ground. She examined the blade before turning her eyes up to the sky, where the smoke was still spiraling up towards the clear blue expanse.

“The men that were stationed with you came to me in a frenzy and said you took off in a rush. They said may be in need of some help, and the thought of you of all people needing help against something on its own is a frightening, so I came as soon as I could.” Impulse said from behind her. “What happened?

“It was Grian.” She said, turning towards him. Then, as an afterthought, she tacked on, “And I didn’t need any help. You know me.”

“It hardly matters to me how strong you are, I will always worry for you regardless. It is in my nature.” He said with a smile, which dropped into a more serious look, “But, Grian, you say? Has he not been off the radar for months now? What’s he doing back in the capital on today of all day? Surely he is up to no good.”

She sheathed her sword, taking a moment to wonder if she should share the cryptid warning that the avian had given her. Her eyes flickered over to the nervous knights standing behind her friend. They were clearly new, fresh out of being squires if she had to take a guess. It was highly probable that they would panic upon hearing information such as this. Besides, anything pertaining to Grian and his resistance was more classified than what she was willing to share with just anyone. She would prefer to inform the king of the news, as well, and it was almost nightfall anyway so his arrival to the festival site was fast approaching. It was best she not have to repeat herself when handling such delicate information. You never know who may be listening.

“I think it would be wiser if I don’t share that with so many ears around. This is information better shared to a smaller group.” She informed him. He glanced back at the soldiers behind him and nodded in understanding.

“Let us return to the festival, this time with eyes and ears more focused.” She said, "If he shows his face again, he will not be getting away so easily a second time."

She turned on her heels and deftly made her way back towards the crowded square, the others following after all. She held her head high, posture straight and professional, but underneath the facade was a twisting feeling of unease that she couldn’t get rid of, and which threatened to force her lunch to make a second appearance.

Her mind was racing, her chest was tight. What could her longtime rival have meant with that threat? No, that had been more of a promise than it had been a threat. But a promise of what, she didn’t know, and that is what scared her. Whatever it was that he had in store for the kingdom of Wintertide, he was so incredibly certain of its success that he was willing to seek her out to personally tell her of its existence.

Either he was a fool, or there was something to truly worry about afoot, and something told her it was the latter since she had never known Grian to be a stupid man.

In fact he was quite the dangerous person.

A harmless person could not gain the following and influence that he had over people in such a short time as he had. Even when the people above her had thought of him as little more than a fly buzzing in their ear, she had always taken every move he made seriously. She would be a fool herself not to treat him as the treat he really was.

If anything, she was surprised it had taken so long for him to make his move. With the reach and numbers he seemed to have within the capital it was a wonder something “big” had yet to happen. Why now of all times? What was his game?

She looked over her shoulder at the abandoned alley one last time, her expression hardening into a determined glare. Even with her worry, she knew one thing for certain; whatever it may be that he was planning, she would put an end to it.

He would not succeed.

❀ ❀ ❀

“Was it necessary to toy with her like that?” His hooded companion asked from beside him, tone high and amused.

Grian stood upon the roof, the smoke bomb having given him just enough time to escape out of view. His cloak fluttered in the wind behind him and his hands clenched into fists, his sharp nails digging into his palms. His expression was blank, his black eyes watching as the commander of the royal army grew smaller the further she got from them. She’d almost seen him when she glanced back. Almost, but not quiet.

“Not that I am complaining,” His companion pushed further upon not receiving a response, “It is rather funny, I must admit.”

“I am not toying with her,” He stated, not daring to take his eyes off of the commander until she was well out of view, “It was a real warning.”

“Even worse,” Was the reply, which was then followed by a laugh, “Now she’ll be wary, more prepared than she would have had you said nothing at all. I have to agree with the Commander on this one, Grian, this seems an odd move to make so early into the plan. After all of the work we put into this, it seems entirely counterproductive. Are you not worried she could put an end to this all before it has even begun?”

“Let her try and interfere,” He said, a smile spreading across his face as the wind picked up speed, “There will be no stopping what is to come.”

#GG rivals au #GG main fic #geminitay #grian #scott smajor #impulsesv #hermitcraft #life series #Danny's fics #fic: Thus Always to Tyrants #Point of View: Gem #scar is there kinda but not enough for me to justify main tagging him so he gets a little tag #scar #i've finally got the first chapter out and an ao3 account made!!#I really am having fun writing again #I didn't realize I had missed it so much #I apologize if it is messy #i am open to constructive criticism

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pascalsbby · 9 months

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The Devil & His Brother

Prologue

Joel x Tommy x Reader

Summary: 3K / Joel x Tommy x f!reader

The day he killed you is the day you fell in love with him. You died in his arms, just grateful there was a God, wondering why he was on his knees for you, holding you, after you spent your entire existence denying his very own.

The one in where you fall in love, lust, with both of the Miller boys. But only one can have you. Right?

Series Warnings: 18+ mdni, eventual smut. Outbreak, Jackson, slow-burn, angst/comfort, age gap, power imbalance, possessive tendencies, drugs/pills/alcohol, threesome, major daddy issues (that’s why you need 2 daddies instead of 1). Talk of death, God, the Devil himself. Girlfriend sharing, cuckholding, begging Miller boys. Probably some shared brotherly words of encouragement, voyeurism, age gap, dominate & aggressive, pet names, praise kink, all holes filled <3, ‘he’ talks you through it, tells you what to do.

Unreliable reader for now- uhhh she’s dying.

“I choked / on such longing I couldn't spit out. Yes, desire is so different / when God bore you hungry.”

°:. *₊ ° . ° .• ♡ °:. *₊ ° *₊.• ♡ °:. *₊ ° . ° .• ♡ °:. *₊ ° *

Warm water soothing an aching throat, cold, sweet fingertips from cherry seeds staining white napkins. His fingerprints burned into your core. Deep red in the corners of your wet mouth, dripping down the side of the horse, painting the snow carmine. The baritone of his voice shaking through the pool of blood, “What’a shame. Hell, woulda made a pretty wife.”

The sweetest part of a cherry is its heart. Suckling, rolling, and removing the fine skin with your teeth. Your skull hitting the ground. Red. You’re scared you’ll choke on it, but you don’t spit it out. You can’t. The sweetness is gone and you’ve accidentally bit your tongue.

The splitting of cherry skin, from teeth to skull. Loud, thunderous around the sound of cicadas screa- no, singing you a lullaby. Hips, swaying.

God humming.

It’s darker now, you can hear the thud of hooves imprinting the cold, every single movement screaming through your being. You were sat atop stretched denim over thick thighs, rugged and hot against the freezing expanse of your exposed skin.

They leave most of themselves behind- stem, seed, head, heart- the cherries. Sacrilegious-ly religious-ish. Or something. Had you known religion? Starstuff sounded better than dirt. Would you die from the gunshot wound or the cold, first?

No. But anything stands in for a cross, especially when he’s sitting there above you vertically, heart opened horizontally. He was looking down upon you, holding you against his body. Floating.

You’re warm, you’re warm, finally you’re—

And your body slackens as your brain does too, from him. From the ground, the sky, the back of this horse. Blue, blue- black. The last rising of your chest, cold air running through the sharp pains in your throat. Mouth dry, silent, slack.

Was this the dust part? You don’t want to say good night to the moon, so you you look up at her and make eye contact with her comforting stare- and you don’t blink- because blinking is returning to the looming darkness. Blinking is allowing the night to take you. The warmth from his body upon yours, melting your body into the ground. The moon is so bright.

And she looks down upon you and whispers, “I’ve got you bunny - I’ll hold your hand and you just think about those stars. How pretty they look right now- jus’ for you.” Even the moon sounded like him.

“We’ll be home soon, baby.” He pleaded.

Home.

A scream. Not one of terror, one of defeat- desperation. Vilely testing through the back of his throat.

A release… comfort.

A death.

Your own.

He was supposed to save you. He was like water- quenching and soothing your aching throat before you drown in it.

Fire, warming you- before burning you alive.

Tears releasing, falling, leaving- before the pain in the back of your throat, slithering to your jaw.

°:. *₊ ° . ° .• ♡ °:. *₊ ° *₊.• ♡ °:. *₊ ° . ° .• ♡ °:. *₊ ° *

Three resounding gunshots bounced off the distant hills, the thick snow-covered ground. The sound carrying its ominous message far and wide while the silence that followed bore witness to the weight of their deadly intent. Feet, crushing the crystals against the Earth, running from your falling body, rather than to. More than just a pair, moving in the apposite direction. Smaller, smaller, gone.

One sound traveled further, still quivering in your ears, kissing the air around your body as the bullet made a home in you. Your own death tearing from your mouth into the now, quiet, night. Even the cicadas had stopped howling, feeling the force of yours as it tore through your stomach, out of the back of your throat. You rested your head upon the soil and suddenly the ocean was inside of your ears. The mumbling of hurried male voices, anger, present.

The ground was holding you, and it was so cold.

"Mierda,” another beings voice stuck in the thick air, furious at his God. "What the fuck are you doing?”

Their identical voices now filled with resentment, clashed, and you felt like an intruder in your own death. You hadn’t excepted it, but they had. And God was speaking again “- ‘till you return to the ground, for out of it you were taken; for you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” He was blessing you before fate found death and invited her in.

His boots reached your ears last. He was immense, expansive- held shoulders that could carry you to safety, if he so pleased. But he didn’t. You don’t know why God chose today as the day you were going to die… why he was lying about it to one of his most loyal servants. He had shot you. His eyes were the first thing you’d had seen as soon as the barrel of his gun lowered behind the bushes.

You had wished for death so many times, it was almost a relief that this, was it. There was nothing reaching around inside of you pulling your organs closer to the ground. Even though that’s where we mostly end up these days— in ash. Burned, split into stardust. Or thrown on top of each other in endless pits, burned to Earth once more. Entering the world is painful enough. Why can’t we exit it peacefully?

Maybe this was peaceful enough. You were lucky he was here to take you home. Even in his hesitancy. Even in your own confusion as to why he had to take you right now. You’d been alone for three years before this moment. Yes, you were grateful it was him.

It could have been his brother, instead.

But you’d been a good girl, you knew you wouldn’t be meeting the Devil anytime soon.

He wasn’t in a hurry walking towards you, no. The ground was moving under your ear as he disturbed the dirt with the fist of his boot. You had been looking at him the entire time, sideways, face pushed into the dirt where you landed. Your body felt the presence of his before he was back in your eyesight, and suddenly you knew you needed to move. Your mind had accepted death, but your body hadn’t. He could shoot you again, put you out of your misery. But you were too far away from where you wanted to perish. The graves of your family, too far away. It’s too soon to die, please let me get to my family first.

Even God does what he needs to survive his guilt.

There was no remorse in the way his arm slung over the gun, beading sweat running towards whatever it could caress, his other arm resting beside him. He was sturdy, infinite as he rose closer… he knew he was successful in his attempt. His entire figure blurred as tears rolled horizontally down your face. He wasn’t worried that he’d killed you- that was his goal. He was worried you weren’t dead. And that just wouldn’t do.

His overworked cowboy boots were standing before you, kicking up ground into the dusk. His heals clicking louder, shotgun returned to his hand and pointed towards you; he locked his eyes into yours with an unnervingly malevolent gaze. It hurt to move, so you didn’t. You could hear him breathing, wondering for how long you’d be doing the same. At least you were leaving at the hands of God- not from the mouth of a Clicker.

How do they feel dying? Someone had told you a long time ago about how they’re still conscious up there, through it all- taking over the functions and body but leaving the brain to feel. Relief then, probably. To finally return to the ground with their brothers and sisters, not caring if it takes fire and gasoline, and his hands around your neck. You were okay with death if it meant never ending up even further caged inside your own brain. Or the end up in the act of taking someone else’s.

You whimpered at him, unable to move anything but your eyes, so you bore into his. He must have somehow set you on fire, your body scorching and reaching for air as he looked over you. You saw God in just the creases of his eyes— they smile, adorning his warm skin. The wrinkles whispering love songs to the skin they get closer to. “I am moving with you (time)((love)).” Age. Speckled. Small spots turning into stars in a night sky.

His irises were warm, far away, like he’s looked death in face, shaken its hand and kissed it better- and failed, mercilessly. Big and brown, eating away at your flesh. They were so sad, but not for your fate. They were sad that your fate had to be the same as the people he’d lost before. The ones you had lost. How everyone goes these days. He was sad it all turned out this way.

You knew in that moment that he’d seen this before- death. Of course he had. At his age, brows furrowing and light speckled against the darkness of his beard. The creases in his face softened as he looked into you.

He’s seen this before- a young girl bleeding out into the red dirt, fading, whispering away from a dying world. You stare up at him, knowing he is waiting for a response that you didn’t have. Spare me, you thought. His thick fingers curled around the base of his weapon and his knuckles turned white beneath the dried blood and dryer skin. He was contemplating. He was trying to forget.

Your own blood pooling, his knees cracked as he bent down to get a closer look. You felt yourself slipping as his fingers brushed over your skin in an understanding nod.

“I know it hurts, baby.” You may not be able to feel another’s hands, soon. You were weeping. “But I ain’t gonna hurt you sweet thing. Stay still.” The last bit a demand, rather than a suggestion.

He took in your form as your own blood cooled beneath you. He was making a decision. Suddenly, his face pained, burrowing the depth of his pain between his eyebrows. Were you praying to him? Screaming his name in vain? Begging for forgiveness?

He held his hand over you, pausing before reaching you and sinking his fingertips to your flesh, feeling. In the same motion, he lifted your shirt, brushing his knuckles across your side. You felt it. Deep.

He moved on to the legs of your pants, searching for the exact entry point. You wailed when his fingers danced on top of your skin. Eventually losing patience, he flattens his massive hand flesh to you, and slides his hands up your body. There it was, right above your hip bone on your left side. You were going to die. You, now covering him, seeping warmth into the cracks of his skin. Your DNA fusing into his. Your throat hoarse.

He stared down at you for a moment before he let out a sigh and picked you up, grunting at the weight of another human in his arms. He laid you on his lap and you stayed, languidly, letting him do as he pleases. It’s not as if you were really feeling much besides the consistent fire kissing your veins. The very veins that are bleeding onto his lap, seeping into his own cuts- you found yourself contemplating, hoping, there was still more seats left in the Heaven at his feet.

“Shhh, relax baby, stay still. Gonna be j’us fine sweet thing. Patchin’ you up. Gonna find the rest of ‘em then we’ll get somewhere safe, okay? Sun’s settin’. Need you to be still.” He hurried through his words, looking around for who could be inviting themselves into the party after hearing you struggle. He reached for a knife in his pocket and you let out another wail. He winced at its power and tore his sleeve from his shirt, securing and adding pressure ever so slightly to your side.

Them?

“This wasn’t supposed to happen, fuck.” He yelled another man’s name and then he was chanting quickly under his breath, “fuck, fuck, fuck.” He was doing a sour attempt at controlling his bodily reaction to you as you lie over his lap, soaking his denim in your blood.

As the seconds ticked by, you felt a surreal detachment from the world around you, his cooing voice seemed to slip from your grasp, as if you were drifting away from reality. It was peaceful, until it wasn’t. He was attempting to move you. The sun was setting. For the last time.

“Look how fuckin’ young she is Tommy.” And then another Angel appeared. He was angry as he looked down upon you, but it wasn’t directed towards you. He must have seen it in your eyes, death. “We got you baby. Settle down.” The voice was solid and clear, unlike the other. This was the person he was yelling for.

“I didn’t fuckin’ do it Tommy. I didn’t.” There was pain in his voice. Anger. God spoke and you thought maybe another bullet had entered your skin. You screamed like it had and the warmth spread.

Suddenly God wasn’t as he appeared before. His blood-red appearance contrasted sharply with the angelic figure beside him, his heat poured over your being as the Angel standing next to him wept; both of whom seemed strangely familiar to each other, though not to you. Their faces were disappearing into themselves, blurring.

He sneered into you and you felt it vibrate your bones. Looking as if he was laughing. Or maybe he was screaming. Everything, you, are fading at this point. The caress of the sky, humming lullabies into your hair.

His drawl sounds oddly beautiful running from the tip of his teeth, touching tongue, to the hot mid-July dusk; the mosquitoes riding around on droplets of wet dampenings- the sound settling at the base of your eardrum and running like water towards your center. Than towards your hip bones. He looked different now as he sang you to sleep, brushing his thick, callused fingers down the side of your face, nook of your neck, clearing it from the dirt that has already made a home in your skin. Your matted hair sticking to drying lips, yours.

You needed to focus on something- the slick of his mouth, lips, opening. Tongue running outwards until his teeth bit down. He runs his flattened fingertips against your scalp, trying to calm the pain of fading from the world. He had a mustache, graying facial hair. He was haunting.

There was nowhere else to look, his form hovered above you in contemplation.

Gazing upon him was like glimpsing a celestial being. Maybe the sun, itself, coming down to Earth to scorch it anew. He was red. Fire. He was melancholy, sadness, and so goddamn pretty.

He wasn’t God. He was Lucifer himself- a morning star. Light-bringer. Life-taker. Eenie meanie mini mo. He was heralding the dawn.

The other one, who at first you thought was Angel, must be God. He was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. But there was something about the one that almost smiled like the Devil. The one cast in red. The one who killed you. Amidst the echoes of their argument, you couldn't help but wonder if there was more to their anger than just the fact that the pretty one had shot you.

Amidst the confusion and pain, you heard distant voices calling out to you. The words sounded far away, as if you were standing three rooms away, ear against the door.

“Hey-“ it sounded closer now, coming from the emitting light. “Gonna hold you tight now Bunny, don’t move.”

He’s gone, the warmth from his fingertips has set in on their initial touch, burning heat like vines across your arm, stomach. Each bite individually riding its way towards your ears, body, core. You’re put atop something hard. In. Out. Holding less air than the lowered clouds in front of you.

Fire kissing at your stomach, making you wonder if it was from where his hand was sprawled, lower, pushing, hoisting your legs upwards, carefully unto another warm being- a horse.

You were too tired to keep your eyes open. So you closed them and softly said goodbye to yourself. The only words you had spoken, and no one has heard them. They were just for you.

As you close your eyes and slide further into the darkness, you find it almost humorous, the entire story of your death.

Sure, no one told you God was a cowboy, but they never mentioned the Devil was, too. And it seemed a lot more people had met the Devil. Including you.

°:. *₊ ° . ° .• ♡ °:. *₊ ° *₊.• ♡ °:. *₊ ° . ° .• ♡ °:. *₊ ° *

A/N: Thank you to everyone who commented on the intro post. Please let me know what you think 🥹 smut happening… SOON! Y’all mean the world!!

Tag List: @worhols @mishasminion360 @justagalwhowrites @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @romanarose @milla-frenchy @bandluvr97 @alwaysdjarin @basicoccult @hellfyreroz @northernbluess @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @pr0ximamidnight @bambydxll @morgaussy @n7cje @theywhowriteandknowthings @gracie7209 @pedritoferg @twirl731 @med494 @k-ra @megangovier20 @rayslittlekitten @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @gintheginger @obscurexsorrows @cool-iguana @livingdeadmaria @ours-is-a-strange-fate @sarap-77

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boccher · 9 months

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widefield of the milky way core, 1hr total exposure time from a Bortle 2 dark site at 24mm focal length

The photo contains a bunch of my other photos within it. I think its neat to see the context of all the nebulae

A little ramble under the cut

The most common question astronomers get is "what does it look like to the naked eye?" Photos are usually much more detailed and colourful, since cameras can take long exposures while our eyes can't.

I was able to observe it from the Bortle 2 site with about 10 mins of dark adaptation (astronomers usually recommend at least 30 mins but I was busy at the time). I edited the photo to try to account for the level of details, colour, and stars that I was able to see with my eyes, here:

It was mostly colourless, but I think I was able to see a faint hint of golden brown colour right in the brightest part of the milky way core. The central bulge of the milky way extended just short of Antares (bright yellow star at the top), and I was just barely able to see the dark dust lanes extending to Antares. The Lagoon nebula was obviously visible as a small diffuse cloud, and the Omega nebula was also visible as a fuzzy looking "star" if you knew where to look.

Keep in mind though this is in the southern hemisphere, where the milky way core passes directly overhead. In the northern hemisphere, this region of the milky way is lower on the horizon, and is thus dimmed by the atmosphere. On the other hand, I didn't adapt my eyes to the darkness for very long, and I was in a Bortle 2 site (the darkest skies are rated Bortle 1), so even better views are definitely possible.

I think the biggest thing that photos can't capture is the sheer size of the milky way in the sky. It stretches across the entire sky from horizon to horizon, and at its thickest point it's wider than two outstretched hands at arms length. The sky is also dotted with stars covering your entire field of vision. As much as it's a cliché thing to say, you really do get a sense of yourself on earth floating through space. It's an insanely immersive experience

#astrophotography #space #astronomy #astrophotography oc #boccher photo tag

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i-literally-cant-with-this · 5 months

Text

C/W ::: Sorta sleepy oral M->F, cum // piss on face, piss play (??) heed the warning, please. And planning // prep for more piss play. Over use of italics as usual. What. I like them, ok?

F!reader married to Dilf!Bkg (in his early 40's), v. established marriage // 7 years, 1 kid at Mitsuki's house for the weekend,

Katsuki wakes up first. The sky is bright as he peeks out of his sleepy eyes. He lays there for a few minutes, just staring at the outline of your curves under the light pink sheet. It's already hot. Probably 85 outside by now despite it being only 8 or so in the morning. He hasn't looked at the clock yet. He can't seem to take his eyes off of you.

You shuffle in your half-asleep state and roll onto your back. He smiles at you when you open your eyes to see if he's still there. But in your heart, you knew he would be.

"Good morning," he whispers to you and moves over to kiss your shoulder up to your neck. It's slow and lazy. The kind of affection that didn't know the rush of everyday necessity.

"Hey, you. What are you still doing here? I thought you'd be long gone by now. You think you'd be getting breakfast after the dessert I gave you last night?" You tuck your chin and giggle as the 2 day growth on his face tickles your bare chest. His hair is wild against your face as you try to push him away.

"Oh my god, you perv! Are you trying to shove my head down to your cunt again? Jesus fuck. I go down on you last night and you think it's all I'm good for? You think you deserve it? You're somethin' else, ya brat." He grabs your hand and holds it above you, against your pillow and scoots over so he's between your legs.

He hooked his arms under your knees and raised them up to your chest, his hands rest on the mattress next to your hips. "Mm, I gotta pee real quick. Lemme up. I'll be right back."

"You weren't even that good at it, ya loser." You spit back. He stopped and looked you dead in the eye, "That's not what you were sayin' last night. You goddamn liar. You wouldn't shut the fuck up, 'Oh Kats, don't stop Kats, holy shit Kats. You're God's gift to women, Ka-'…"

You slapped his flexed bicep, laughing. "I would never say such lies. I would never wish you on anyone. Man or woman. You're terrible. You're a terrible, horrible, filthy person."

You tried, and failed.

"Yeah? Gotta piss, eh. Well, you should've thought about that before you sassed off to me, fuckin' brat. Now, lemme see if you can keep that smart ass mouth of yours shut while I give it to you again." He leaned down and started to lap at your clit. You inhaled sharply, unable to get anything out of your mouth but a desperate whine. "K-Kats, really. I - h- oh fuck, th- fuck that's good. You're stupid good at eatin' pussy. And I promise I'll come back to you after I use the little girls room. Ge-get up, p- pl- … Kats, you're gonna make me cum and it's not gonna stop at that. It's not gonna be pretty."

He wouldn't let up on your clit. And it was so fucking hard for you to make him. It felt so good, very first thing in the morning. His fingers found their way inside of your hot and dripping pussy, sliding in and out easily. He knew just where to hit you and when. He knew exactly what buttons to push. He knew your body almost as well as you did and it was so good.

Katsuki looked up at you, his eyes hooded and his mouth slick with your juices, "You're so fuckin' cute when you whine for me to stop. However … not gonna ... stop. Not until I can feel your cum dripping down my chin and your legs are shaking aroun' my ears."

You laughed and dropped your head back onto your pillow. "I'm warning you. You have been warned, you stubborn shit." Resting your forearm over your eyes and anchoring your other hand in the hair just above his undercut, you gave in to him. And relaxed, while trying not to relax everything too much.

And, so you did. You quit your bitching and relaxed into his mouth on your cunt. It was warm. His tongue running between your folds wasn't much in contrast to how the rest of you felt; it was wet and hot, too. But when he doubled down, sucking on your little bud of nerves and delving his fingers into you, it was nearly more than you could handle. His nose sliding over your clit when his mouth wasn't on it. You could feel yourself quickly approaching that crossroad.

He hummed approvingly when you melted under his touch and raised your hips to match the ebb and flow of his ministrations. He was sloppy, his slurps and soft moans only egged you on more. "What are you so - hohh shit - happy about? Nothing about this is going to end well, Katsuki." He let go of your clit with a pop and told you to quit yer bitchin', let him do what he enjoys doing and does best. "Fine. But you're changing the sheets, shit ass." You laughed at his response to that; He buried his face even further into your hot core and doubled his efforts.

"Hm-mahh, Kats, nuh-uh, nonono oh fu- holy shit! I'm g- I'm gonna fffuuuccckkk, Katsuki!"

Your cheeks turned rosy pink and you felt the sudden urge to have the fan on. "Kats - hot, I'm h-hot." He grumbled into your cunt, "Fuck, I know y'are. I know, baby. So fuckin' hot. Cum for me, c'mon."

Your body tensed up and your knees snapped shut as your orgasm hit you like a runaway semi. The hot liquid - not much of a surprise to you - caught your husband completely off guard. Despite your many, many warnings, he still didn't anticipate the release of such bodily fluids.

"Hol- … holy fucking shit, babe! Did you … did you just … piss?" He yelled. You had never been so grateful that your kid was at their grandma's house and not there to hear their dad yell at their mom about pissing the bed.

"I-I- YOU!!! I fucking told YOU!! And your dumbass just pushed and pushed and poked and sucked on me. And now? Well now, you have to change and wash the sheets." You looked at him with a smug look on your face that you had not earned but felt like he deserved to be at the receiving end of.

He laid there. Half stunned and fully hard. "Babe. I'm … you … fuck. That was so hot. I mean, I'm sorr-sorta sorry. But fuck. You just came so hard you pissed. I have never made you cum like that." He stood and walked over to where you were standing, dripping onto the hardwood floor. Cupping your pussy and rubbing it with the palm of his hand and fingertips, he leaned down to kiss you. "We're doing that again. I'll get the shit we need. You do whatever you need to do. I'll be back and serving up some drinks after a bit. Be ready for me. I love you, peeps."

"Peeps?" You tilted your head in confusion. "Oh, yeah. 'S my new nickname for ya. You like it?"

Laughing, you tiptoed the rest of the way to the bathroom to clean yourself off. "Whatever floats your boat, baby. Whatever floats your boat."

Taglist ::: @darkstarlight82 @millennialmagicalgirl // @bakubunny (Yes I know. But just in case you somehow missed it and because of the conversation we had about his little kinks the other day ; )) @thenamesmiz (if you only wanted kiri stuff lmk!) @callm3senpaii (are you still out there? Lol) @arlerts-angel

#katsuki bakugo smut #katsuki bakugo #katsuki bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki smut #katsuki smut #bakugou smut #bakugo smut #bakugo katsuki mha #my hero academia #mha smut #bnha smut #tw piss

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dorothy-rainbird · 1 year

Text

Part 3

“You know, y/n is a very special person in my life. They found me, raised me, patiently taught me so many things…”

Kuni stared at the blue sky above him as he relaxed more under the giant tree of Windrise.

“They taught me about ‘good’ and ‘bad’, how to take care of myself and others…” he gently pat Bu napping away on his lap.

“Taught me how to handle emotions, how to deal with grief, manage anger, to open up…”

He continued,

“Everything, everything but one.”

…..

“They never taught me how to deal with this tingling feeling in my chest. It feels so strange…”

……….

“It’s as if I feel small around them. Am I scared of them? If I am then why do I want to be around them so much? Why so I want them to…”

“To..?”

“To h-hold me and….-“

“PFFT HAHAHAHA-“

“W-WHAT??” He managed to yell despite the embarrassment, his face was so red it looked like sunburn. Unfortunately because of that, Bu woke up. Realising they were being noisy, they quieted down a little.

“Sorry Bu, I didn’t mean to scream. Go back to sleep, Kay?” And so he did. Bu snuggled closer to Kuni, letting out a quiet “sqee” before dozing off again.

……….

“So Kuni…”

“Hm?”

“What I think you are experiencing is…”

“???”

“Love”

He was about to scream again but Venti shushed him in time, pointing at the blob on his lap. He nodded as Venti removed his hand and let him speak.

“You mean…love?”

“Yes”

“You sure it’s not some uh…something else? L-like something um..”

“Nope.”

“So…it’s like those novels?”

“wat”

“….”

“I um- *cough* uh…”

“Forget I asked”

“Gladly”

A very awkward silence danced among them as none of them felt brave enough to break it. Still, Kunikuzushi wanted to know more, so with one sharp inhale,

“If I’m in love with Y/n, then what should I do? Considering you’re the love expert of Mondstadt, any advice?”

“Of course of course! But for my advice so fine, won’t you invite me to dine?” Venti elbowed his arm with a smirk.

“Haha sure, Y/n will be delighted by your visit.” Kunikuzushi replied with a smile.

____________________________

“Thanks for visiting us Venti, but are you sure you don’t wanna stay over? It’s a little chilly tonight.” You stood by the door as Venti was about to leave. Yes Venti joined for supper but decided to leave earlier than usual.

“Ehe sweet Y/n, Don’t worry about me, I’ll be just fine! Take care everyone and thanks for the delicious meal!” Venti waved you, Kunikuzushi and your slime child goodbye as he began to turn around and leave. You couldn’t help but feel as if he winked at Kuni…did those two have something going on? Nah.

“Bye Venti, goodnight!”

_____________________________

“Tip 1: Compliment them”

You stood by the sink, doing the dishes. Kunikuzushi saw this as a perfect opportunity. He shared a look look at Bu, who gave him a nod of confirmation. Then, with a deep breath made his way towards you. Leaning on the counter beside you, he went,

“Hey has anyone ever told you that y-your eyes are p-pretty?” bruh he stuttered. Without taking your eyes off the sink, you went,

“Aw thanks”

????

Expectation: *flushed y/n*

Reality: often disappointing

_____________________________

“Tip 2: Leave them small gifts”

“Okay Bu, the first plan didn’t go as expected. Time to step things up a little.” Kunikuzushi said as he picked the most perfect Cecelia of his garden. Bu wasn’t paying attention though, he was busy playing with another plant in the backyard. Kunikuzushi approached him with the flower and crouched down to his level.

“Bu, my son, my child.”

“Squeak?”

“Can I trust you to deliver this flower?”

“Squeak!”

“I knew I could count on you :)” Kunikuzushi pat him with a bright smile. He then balanced the flower on his head, hoping it won’t fall off.

“Okay Bu, I want you to deliver this flower to Y/n. Please don’t drop it…”

“Squeak!”

And with that Bu entered the house.

Expectation: “Did Kuni give me this flower?” *flushed y/n*

Reality: Kunikuzushi entered the house after a while, expecting to see a lovestruck y/n. His dreams were brutally shattered as he saw you hugging Bu and giggling while kissing the top of his “head”.

“Aww Bu did you get this for me? You’re so sweet!”

@angryhope @hana-chie @twst-123 @depressed-bitchy-demon @milza12 @inlovewithwaffles @shizunxie @koi-chairowo @someone-with-wild-imagination @melodibells @franini @xiaosimper @kithewanderingme @tinykokomi @rinaxst @shizunxie @thetwinkims @mouchie @einnunnie @myahandhurts @arima26 @we-wo-we-wo @themistcherry @miss-tea-cza @etherisy @bigcandlesmolbrain @n8mareee @peachytears11 @esthelily @imyme20 @teal-clouds-sword @general-kuri @apyrose @campanula-rotundifolia @shoujishu @thebeanofdoom @mentallyunpresent @scaramouches-girlfriend @alicehasdrowned @genderfluid-insomniac @claymitch @night-shadowblood-writes2 @justakiro @valeriele3 @peter-the-pan @erosdevil @blockswon @missb00bs @a-single-pizza @that-boi-sus @gullantys @ekrii @astr4ray @angelkazusstuff @multifandomvoyage @hikaru-exe @forgotten-blues @perpetually-simping @coquettemaiden @kisuneasahi @kunisbeloved @nebulaera

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greenhorn-art · 7 months

Text

Keep Your Head Up to the Sky (As Your Day Unfolds) by alphera [Twitter]

Illustrated by Shirou_UOHS @shirou-oh-sakura

Fandom: 全职高手 | The King's Avatar

Rating: General Audiences

Category: M/M

Words: 9 270

Time is rarely kind, and impossible to escape. At the ripe old age of 30, Han Wenqing retires from the Glory Professional Alliance and moves forward the only way he knows how: fearlessly and without hesitation.

About the Book

FONTS: Coelacanth, Segoe UI Emoji

IMAGES: Illustrations by Shirou; pastel sky ID: 7007221 from Rawpixel; dark blue sky ID: 7044483 from Rawpixel; Han Wenqing & Desert Dust image from The King's Avatar Wikia; Ye Xiu & Lord Grim image also from TKA Wikia; Glory card png also made by Shirou via Discord

MATERIALS: regular ol' printer paper (8.5"x11", 20lb, 96 bright); ~1.5mm chipboard; Neenah cardstock (8.5"x11", 65lb, bright white); Iris bookcloth (Madeira colour); paper from Gilded Ink paper pad by Recollections; waxed linen thread (30/3 size, white); wheat paste (1:4 flour:water)

PROGRAMS USED: typeset in Affinity Publisher 2; endpapers designed with Affinity Designer 2 and Affinity Photo 2; imposed with Renegade's Community Imposer (settings: Quarto, snug against binding edge, signatures of 2 sheets).

Text & QR codes printed with colour laser printer (duplex, flip long edge), images printed with inkjet printer (HP Envy 5055; one sheet at a time, single sided, place facedown in tray)

BINDING: quarto (quarter-letter) size, sewn board binding with french link stitch and breakaway spine.

Absolutely LOVED this story! I've reread this one a number of times, and keep going back for more. Alphera's writing is so good! Ye Xiu is the series protagonist so things usually follow him, which makes it refreshing to see a story through Han Wenqing's eyes. And the author does it SO WELL! AHHH!

It's been a while since my first read-through, but I'm pretty sure this was the first TKA fic that I actually downloaded and started typesetting. Absolutely chuffed to have it finished! (Love me some growth-- the typeset looks a LOT better than my earlier attempts!)

RAMBLES

Another sewn board binding and breakaway spine! Since this isn't my first go at it, the construction of the book was considerably faster and smoother than my last one. It's just as well, because I ran into a speed bump that stretched out how long it took to typeset and print.

The culprit: (very pretty) illustrations. My laser's colour printing capabilities are shot to hell, so I used my inkjet for the artwork. This involved creating 3 copies of my typeset: 1) the completed typeset; 2) just the text, images hidden; 3) just the images, text hidden/white. Then I ran them through the imposer and printed the text version. The real issue was figuring out how to feed the sheets through my inkjet printer to print the images where I want them. Had to go one page at a time, single-sided. (Just need to place sheet facedown in the tray. So flip along vertical axis.) It took a while, but I got there in the end. And the results were SO worth it! 😊

For the scene breaks I left them as written. I had tried inserting images of the Glory Logo and account card, or using crossed swords emojis ⚔️, but nothing I tried worked as well as what the author did. (It's really neat! Different characters were used to indicate the direction of the timeskip: >>>> for a jump forward in time; <<<< for a flash into the past; and ==== for regular scene breaks, a 'next' rather than 'before' or 'later/after'.)

The cover and endpapers were based off of Shirou's fantastic cover illustration of HQW and YX walking hand-in-hand down a beach at sunset. The art itself is phenomenal so I had it stand alone as a frontispiece and didn't do anything fancy with the title page. For the covers, I looked through my decorative paper stash for something red or black to represent HWQ or Team Tyranny. What I found was paper with pinks, oranges, and purples similar to that illustration -- and that was that. I liked how the colours matched the art, and the gold splashed across it. (Gold for victory, gold for wedding rings and a happy golden future together.)

(Sidenote: I love how the beginning of the end of HWQ's career as an e-sports player "starts with a tingle in his ring finger", leading him and YX to taking the next steps in their relationship and eventually getting married 💍🖐)

I went with a red bookcloth for the spine because it's a common team colour for Tyranny, Excellent Era, and Happy. It also represents good fortune, courage, passion, and love -- things that come to mind when I think about YX, HWQ, and HanYe. The particular shade of red I used is Madeira. It's darker than Ruby Red and leans a little cooler, which suits the decorative paper more.

The endpapers use two background images (overlayed, adjusted, using multiple blending modes) and some images of HWQ and YX from The King's Avatar Wikia.

The background images are from Rawpixel -- I was just minding my own business looking for images of clouds and maybe some mountains to represent overcoming challenges/glory/looking up to the sky, when I found some clouds with the same sunset colours of Shirou's art. Figured it was too perfect, and if I'm going to lean into that design-wise, I might as well go whole hog and full-ass it. Then I found a starry night sky to add some darker blues and stars to it to match. After that it was a matter of overlapping them and positioning them to fit. I also grabbed some images of HWQ and YX from the King's Avatar Wikia and added them to it because HanYe. (After removing the backgrounds).

#Keep Your Head Up to the Sky (As Your Day Unfolds)#alphera #fanfiction #bookbinding #the king's avatar #qzgs #tka #sewn board binding

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cosmerelists · 5 months

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Ranking Cosmere Planets By How Cool I Find Them

[Contains spoilers for all Cosmere! I'll list the books in the title so you can skip the ones relating to books you haven't read]

The Cosmere has some very cool planets: but which are the coolest? In this list, I will rank them by my own definition of cool, which I'm defining here as "Planets where my interest in past or future stories is chiefly driven by the nature of the world itself."

#13: UTol (From Yumi and the Nightmare Painter; this entry also contains a spoiler from The Sunlit Man)

UTol is the sky planet that Painter can see from the surface of his world, Komashi, and we get a glimpse of it just right at the end of Yumi. It's also possible we get a glimpse of the same world right at the end of The Sunlit Man, but I don't think that's confirmed. Anyway. It's an ocean world, and the inhabitants have four arms and may have originally been from Yolen. But we don't learn anything cool about the world itself, really. I guess the fact that it can always be seen even through the shroud that otherwise blankets Komashi--that's cool. But I don't know if that's UTol's doing. Maybe when we get more info, it will turn out this planet is super ultra cool and then I will look like a fool. But for now--eh. Oceans. With water? Yawn.

#12: First of Sun (From "Sixth of Dusk")

First of Sun is a hostile world with jungles and oceans and magic birds. It's cool--as all Cosmere worlds are in my opinion--but none of it had any special, extra coolness for me. I suppose I've never been much interested in parrots, and also its only feature story so far was quite short.

#11: Braize (From Stormlight Archives; this entry also contains a spoiler from The Sunlit Man)

I am legitimately curious about Braize, Roshar's "Hell" where the Fused were imprisoned by the Heralds. Like, what is Hell like in a material sense? I want someone to visit it (and I really want to know if Sigzil has been there himself, based on his mentioning a Hell visit during The Sunlit Man), and my curiosity makes it seem more cool. But not too cool, because for all we know, Braize is super boring. We just don't have enough info yet.

#10: Nalthis (From "Warbreaker")

Nalthis has some interesting things going on, planetarily. People don't always properly die, which anyone who cheated and already looked at my #1 planet already knows is something I enjoy. It has some unique cultures, which is also something I enjoy in a Sanderson world, although the differences are painted in pretty broad strokes. It's colorful. I don't know. I'm not super into Nalthis, but it definitely has some cool aspects.

#9: Taldain (From White Sand)

I have a shocking confession that I forgot to include in my authorial confessions list: I haven't actually read White Sand. At least, not more than a few pages before I got frustrated with how hard it was to read it on my phone, which is where I had access to it. Anyway. I do think the general set up of this planet is legitimately cool: tidal-locked, I think, with a Dayside and a Nightside which each have their own magic system. There's a lot of sand. Water matters. I think there are magic tattoos. So I can't rank this too highly myself simply because I don't actually know much about it, but it does seem "Top 10" cool.

#8: Scadrial (From Mistborn)

Scadrial has an advantage because it has Time Periods, and really is a pretty different world in Era 1 vs. Era 2. I have a dark fascination with Era 1 Scadrial: the ashfalls, the mist, the slow but inevitable apocalypse constantly creeping closer...would NOT want to visit, but it's cool to read about. Era 2 Scadrial is bright and shiny in comparison. I'm not much of a Wild West gal myself, but there are giraffes, and that ups any planet's coolness, even if it has lost its brooding volcanos. Oh! And I hope we hear more about the Southern Scadrians too.

#7: Sel (From Elantris and The Emperor's Soul)

I've been trying to judge these planets based on the planets themselves rather than on their magic systems...but on Sel, can you really separate those? The magic is based on geography, after all! Anyway, I like Sel because of the wild things going on with its pooled investiture. I don't understand computer programming and so I may or may not really get its magic, but I like the fact that it ranges from the stately, sometimes assholish Elantrians to Soul Stamping. It's all very cool.

#6: Lumar (From Tress of the Emerald Sea)

Lumar is very cool. Like, color-based aether seas that each react differently to water? Rain as a deadly but necessary thing? The color borders where one aether sea meets another? Sailing on something other than water?? I ate it all up. Tress's world is wild and creative and definitely lots of fun.

#5: Roshar (From Stormlight Archives)

It's hard to separate Roshar the planet from the people and stories there, as I think it's the Cosmere planet I've spent the most time on, metaphorically speaking. But I gotta say, the idea of a constant, world-spanning storm that spits out magic and death--that's cool. A whole world that's inhabited only by crab-versions of things? Well, I hesitate to call that cool exactly, but it is...something. Plus, so many different cultures and religions and ideas on Roshar, which I really enjoy.

#4: Canticle (From The Sunlit Man)

Listen, I love Threnodites. Wherever they pop up, they are doing wild things and refusing to properly die and having names that are...let's say unique. And Canticle is quite the interesting planet. Imagine--not being able to stay in one place because you're constantly fleeing from the deadly sun while trying not to get too far ahead lest to stray into the constant fire tornado. Imagine powering your ships with dead-people batteries and doing engineering with your captive ghost engineers. The place is tiny and super invested and also an incandescent lightbulb or something. Again, I would NOT want to visit but that world is damn cool.

#3: Komashi (From Yumi and the Nightmare Painter)

I think my love of Threnody really affects these top picks. Komashi doesn't have Threnodites, but it does have the weird creepy shadow monsters which I apparently...love? (Learning much about myself writing this.) But in all seriousness, I really like Komashi and I am so curious about it. The idea of Virtuosity and how she manifests as both magical paintings and magical rock stacking. I am so curious about the magenta and cyan coloring and how Sanderson says its based on printers somehow and that yes there is one color missing (what??). The way the inhabitants just lived in a thick shadow sludge with lights creating small habitable zones...like, again, horrifying but such a cool and creative world to explore.

#2: Yolen (No books so far)

Maybe Yolen is super boring. But it is SO mysterious that it can't help but be cool. I mean, this is where the Shattering happened! I think it's where Hoid is from. I think there are dragons. It's just gotta be cool, right?

#1: Threnody (From Shadows for Silence in the Forests of Hell)

But my favorite planet, for whatever reason, is Threnody. I am dying for another story set on that planet. I am so curious about what the Evil is, and I want to hear more about the people living in the literal Forests of Hell. The Shadows and the rules that you have to follow to survive them, the use of silver, the fact that Threnodites just can't catch a fucking break. I am fascinated by all of it, and I think that Threnody is the coolest planet in the Cosmere.

#cosmere #cosmerelists

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candycandy00 · 2 months

Text

Roses in the Sky - An Original Alien x Reader Story Part 3

In a future where humanity huddles in decaying domed cities controlled by alien invaders, you and your best friend Anna work as make-shift nurses in a tiny clinic run by the young doctor Terrian. The city is ruled by the aliens' violent, half-breed offspring who serve as brutal overseers. You and Anna have always tried to avoid these overseers at all cost, but your life is changed when one of those same terrifying offspring is brought into the clinic, injured and unconscious.

This is an original Alien (well half alien) x Fem Reader story! I hope everyone who enjoys my fanfiction will give this a shot! Any feedback whatsoever would be loved! I’ve already written this story so it’s not going to delay my fanfics. Just thought I might post chapters of this between fanfics if anyone is interested.

Slow burn, as this is a novel-length story, but there will be smut in later chapters! Also: violence, blood, rape attempts, death of side characters, etc.

You stood outside Anna's door the next morning, holding the little girl's hand. When the door opened, Anna looked curiously at her. "Who's this?"

"This is Miranda," you told her. "Her parents were attacked by half-breeds last night and she ended up with me. I thought you two should meet."

Anna stared down at the little girl, who was looking at her feet as she squeezed your hand. "Oh," Anna said, then dropped to her knees beside the girl and wrapped her arms around her.

Miranda's hand slipped free of yours and her little arms went around Anna, struggling to return the hug. Her body began shaking with sobs and she cried loudly into Anna's shoulder.

"It's okay, honey," Anna murmured, tears forming in her own eyes. "I'll take care of you now."

You stood back silently until Miranda stopped crying and Anna led her inside, then you followed the girl into the apartment.

Anna's place was cute and quaint, reminding you of the pictures you once saw in old home improvement magazines Terrian used to keep lying around the clinic. You didn’t know how she kept it so clean. The walls and furniture were faded, but had clearly been very bright and cheery at one time.

"So how did Miranda survive?" Anna asked, sitting down at the table beside you and handing you a cup of weak tea.

You took a sip. "Remember the half-breed Terrian brought in yesterday? He was the one who killed her parents."

"I told you he was dangerous!"

"Yeah, but he let Miranda go because he owed us for saving him."

Anna sat her cup of tea down. "You mean you interfered with a punishment? And a half-breed actually listened to you?"

"I was surprised myself," you answered, taking another sip. “I was so scared, I was crying like a baby. But I took a chance and it worked out.”

“You better not try anything like that again,”

Anna warned you. Then she glanced at the clock on her wall. “We’d better get to the clinic.”

After Anna showed Miranda around the kitchen and told her to help herself to anything in the refrigerator, she locked the door and instructed the girl to keep it that way until she came home.

"Sorry to dump her off on you," you said as you and Anna walked together toward the clinic.

"No problem. It'll be nice to have someone around. The nights are pretty lonely, you know."

You nodded. "I know." You turned your eyes toward the giant mechanical tower that stood in the direct center of Gallica. It was visible from every single spot in the city, as it loomed over everything as a symbol of the Pagoda. You frowned at the menacing construct. "It's too bad we can't just blow it up."

Anna followed your gaze to the tower and immediately held a finger to your lips. "Shhh! You know better than to say something like that in public!" she whispered furiously. "Do you wanna get ripped up by the half-breeds?"

You pulled Anna's hand away. "I know, I know. But it's like they're mocking us with that stupid tower."

"That stupid tower keeps the dome up. If we blow it up, we all freeze to death."

You looked down an alley toward the wall of the dome, where you could faintly see snow blowing wildly around on the other side. You sighed and kept walking. There was nothing you could do, nothing anyone could do.

Walking by the various alleyways and streets brought back painful memories. You could almost see yourself as a teenager, huddled under a streetlamp with Anna, eating whatever you could steal.

But you could also still see Terrian reaching out his hand to you both. You pushed the negative thoughts to the back of your mind and walked the rest of the way to the clinic with Anna.

It was a couple of days later when the front door of the clinic swung open and the half-breed you and Terrian had fixed up returned. He was back in his uniform, topped off by a dark beret that pressed his black hair down over the lone green eye. You stared at him as he walked toward Terrian. He was no longer the wounded young man in polka-dot pajamas, but an unfeeling monster in black.

There was a knot in your stomach, and you looked over at Anna, who was frozen stiff. "Anna, come on, let's tend the other patients," you told her, taking her hand.

"That bastard killed Miranda's parents," Anna whispered.

You nodded. "I know, but there's nothing we can do now. Let's go."

Terrian stepped out from the bedside of a nearby patient when the half-breed neared him. "Ah, Mr. Vartan! You came back for your check-up!"

The half-breed, who had apparently signed his patient form as Vartan, nodded.

Terrian led him through the swinging doors and into the back room. Some of the patients who were conscious drew in sharp breaths as Vartan walked by them, looking at him with terror written across their faces. You felt bad for them.

Just when you thought things had calmed down, a few minutes after Terrian and Vartan had left the room, Terrian poked his head through the swinging doors and asked you to bring some more bandages. You frowned to him, but gathered up the bandages and walked through the swinging doors.

Vartan was sitting on a cot, his jacket and shirt discarded and his torso again exposed. At least this time he was wearing pants.

He looked young as he sat there, a little younger than the twenty-three years of age he had written on the patient form. Shirtless and wearing the beret made him look strangely like some sort of male stripper. Dare you even think it, he almost looked cute.

Terrian removed the bandages and examined the wound. It had already mostly closed up, healing rapidly with the amazing Pagoda blood. He carefully cleaned the area, examined it for infection, then dressed it with fresh bandages.

"Take these off in a couple of days. If the wound looks fine, you don't need to put anymore on. If there's any bleeding or discoloration, come here immediately."

Vartan nodded, pulling on his jacket. He paused, looking at you. "Is there a problem?"

You blinked. "What?"

"You have been staring at my chest the whole time you have been here. Is there a problem I should be aware of?"

You went red. You hadn't even realized you were staring. "Oh, no, I'm sorry!"

Terrian looked at you in surprise, then looked back to Vartan. "You'll have to forgive my nurse. She's not used to seeing such finely crafted male bodies. The lot we get in here are very different from you."

"Doctor!" Your face was now burning with embarrassment.

Terrian laughed, and Vartan seemed just a little confused. You were deeply upset. How could Terrian be so casual with a half-breed?

Vartan buttoned his jacket, thanked Terrian again, nodded to you, and left out the back door. Terrian grinned. "Wow, he's so polite!"

"Polite?! I saw him tear a woman's head off the other night!"

"Well, he's still a half-breed after all. At least we're safe. He seems to like us, you in particular."

You were placing the left over roll of bandages in a cabinet. "Me?"

"You haven't noticed?” Terrian asked. “He keeps looking at you. Maybe he thinks you're cute!"

You went pale. "That's not exactly a good thing, Doctor. You know what the half-breeds are like."

"But you obviously think he's cute," Terrian said, still grinning.

"I do not!"

"Couldn't keep your eyes off him."

"I was looking at his wound!"

Terrian laughed. "Why deny it? It would certainly be novel, a half-breed with a willing human."

"I don't like him!" you suddenly screamed. "He killed Miranda's parents! If we hadn't saved his life, he would've killed me too!"

"That's all true, but haven't you ever wondered? How much their human side affects them? I don't think they've ever had relationships like we have. I don't think they understand the concept of family. Maybe if they could experience that, it would awaken the humanity in them."

"But Doctor, how can you make excuses for them? They killed your father, didn't they?"

Terrian looked down, his glasses slipping down his nose. "You're right. Sorry, it was just wishful thinking."

The day wore on, just like the other days before it. You, Anna, and Terrian tended patients, joked with each other, and allowed yourselves to forget about the outside world. And when the working day was over, you parted ways and returned home.

Anna's apartment was on the other side of town, where Miranda was at home waiting for her. Terrian lived in a large house a few blocks away, but spent the night at the clinic whenever a critical patient was brought in. He had often asked you girls to move into his home, but you both had the desire for a little independence, at least for as long as you could maintain it.

You entered your apartment that evening, flipping on the light in the small living room and locking the door up tight behind you. The room was dirty, no matter how many times you cleaned it. It seemed like a thin layer of filth covered the whole city, and no one could get rid of it.

There was no television, not for the past twelve years. Your memories of it had become vague over time. Sometimes you and Anna went to Terrian's house to watch old films. As interesting as they were, you found them depressing. People were usually happy in those movies, enjoying a world you didn’t remember, and you couldn't relate to them at all.

There was an unused stove in the corner of your kitchen and a small refrigerator stocked with items like fruit, vegetables, butter, cheese, and rarely some form of meat. You counted yourself extremely fortunate to have what little you had, as produce was quickly becoming a scarcity. The Pagoda managed resources in an extremely strict manner, and even private gardens had been taken over.

You unpacked your things from the duffel bag, then changed into pajamas. You fixed herself a glass of water, placed it on your bedside table, and went to bed. The sheets were cold without the warmth of another person, but you had gotten used to that.

Sleep came slowly to you, and then you were haunted by violent nightmares filled with screams and blood and the half-breed Vartan killing Miranda's father. And then suddenly Miranda morphed into Anna.

"Why didn't you save me too?" Anna demanded, looking up at you with blood all over her face, "Why didn't you save me like you did Miranda?!"

You backed away from her until your back hit a stone wall. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry, Anna! I didn't know you then!"

Anna shook her head. "That doesn't matter. I needed you. I needed to be saved!"

She came closer, until she was inches from you. Finally, she reached out and wrapped her hands around your throat, choking you.

You awoke with a jolt, sitting up in bed and clutching the sheets in your fists. Sweat dripped down your back. Nightmares like that were surprisingly rare for you. Generally, you dreamed of your parents or of the clinic.

You never got back to sleep that night, and so you were early to work the next morning, even before Terrian or Anna arrived. Terrian came first, unlocking the doors and letting you in, followed soon after by Anna. You and Anna changed into your uniforms while Terrian checked the patients. But just as you walked through the swinging doors, you heard the front door of the clinic bust open.

All of you looked up just as three half-breeds, two men and one woman, walked in. They scanned the main patient area with their two-color eyes, then looked at Terrian.

One of the men spoke with the same mechanical voice Vartan had. "We've received reports that you are harboring those who escaped punishment. Everyone in this building is now officially interfering with punishment.”

Terrian pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose again. "Girls, I want you to run far away from here. Right now."

Anna started toward him. "But Doctor..."

"RUN!" he screamed, and you grabbed Anna's arm, dragging her toward the back entrance. As the two of you made it through the swinging doors, you began to hear screams and cries, glass breaking, and the sound of Terrian's voice as he yelled for the half-breeds to stop.

#alien x reader #alien x human #x reader #x reader stories #original x reader #original fiction #alien x you

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puroresu-musings · 4 months

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NJPW WRESTLE KINGDOM 18 in Tokyo Dome Review (Jan 4th, 2024)

New Japan Rambo **

IWGP Jr. Tag Team Championship - Clark Connors & Drilla Moloney vs. TJP & Francesco Akira ***1/4

NJPW World TV Championship - Zack Sabre Jr. (c) vs. Hiroshi Tanahashi ****

Yota Tsuji vs. Yuya Uemura ***1/2

Shota Umino & Kaito Kiyomiya vs. EVIL & Ren Narita ***1/4

NEVER Openweight Championship - Shingo Takagi (c) vs. Tama Tonga ****1/2

IWGP Tag Team & STRONG Openweight Tag Championship Double Title Match - Hirooki Goto & YOSHI-HASHI vs. El Phantasmo & Hikuleo ***3/4+

IWGP Jr. Heavyweight Championship - Hiromu Takahashi (c) vs. El Desperado ****1/4

Inaugural IWGP Global Championship Match - Will Ospreay vs. Jon Moxley vs. David Finlay ****1/2

Kazuchika Okada vs. Bryan Danielson *****

IWGP World Heavyweight Championship - SANADA (c) vs. Tetsuya Naito ****1/4

Photos.

This show ruled. Full disclosure, I've fallen behind with NJPW in the last couple of years, and only really get to fully see the major shows, so going in this looked like a solid little card on paper, so my expectations weren't exactly sky high. However, the New Japan crew knocked it out of the park with an excellent, Show of the Year contender. Things started as they always do: The annual "cram everyone humanly possible onto the card" Rambo. We all know what to expect here, and this was better than a lot of previous offerings, but the surprise appearance of Fujita "Jr" Hayato in this years really raised it up for me, as I'm always super pleased to see him back in the ring after all he's been through. Takashi Iizuka turning up was also a nice surprise (absence makes the heart grow fonder, and all that), and it was a kick to be transported back to 2013 with him mercilessly going after poor Shimpei Nogami on commentary. The ending though was very deja vu, as I could have sworn some incredibly similar variant of this was the outcome last year. The final four of Great-O-Khan, Taiji Ishimori, YOH and Toru Yano advanced to face off for the KOPW Title tomorrow.

The main show started in style with the prerequisite Jr Tag Title Match, which featured TJP debuting his new demon gimmick, The Aswang, because he was locked in a casket when last we saw him, you see. My English feed froze at the opening bell on the Aswang mask for ages, and by the time I'd gotten back onto the Japanese feed, I'd missed like three minutes of this, there were brawls all over ringside, The Aswang was wearing a dog collar, and Moloney was bleeding. The final 5 or so minutes I did see were pretty damn good though, so that's what my rating is based on. TJP got this win for him and Akira after he blew the dreaded Dokukiri into Drilla's face, then Catch 22 hit the double knees to regain the titles at 9:38. Next up, President Tanahashi put an end to the 365 day TV Title reign of ZSJ in an excellent 8:53 sprint. These guys always have excellent matches together, and this was no exception. They worked a fast-paced thriller, which boiled down to them hitting a sequence of cradle reversals, before Tana counter a Zack Victory Roll into one of his own, and won the belt to a big pop. President Ace thanked everyone for coming in the post match, and wished us all a Happy New Year. Godly.

Career rivals Tsuji and Uemura had their first non-Young Lion outing on a major show next. This was a very good little match, I've always been high on both guys since they were rookies, and I firmly believe they have incredibly bright futures in New Japan, and are destined to be focal points in the years to come. Even though I do wish they'd do more with Yota. The guy came in super hot, with a ton of hype, and now he's kinda just floundering in the mid-card. And more mid-carders is most certainly not something this company needs! They always have really good matches, so add this one to that list, which ended at just under 11 minutes, when Uemura got the much needed win with his beautiful Deadbolt suplex. Fellow future superstar Shota Umino drove into Tokyo Dome on a motorbike to start his and partner, NOAH "Ace" Kiyomiya's tag match against HoT goons EVIL and Ren Narita next. This was going along really nicely, the three young guys all looked great, and the crowd were very much into, until the standard shenanigans started, which lead to a fairly abrupt finish, which saw Narita deck Umino with a steel plated push-up bar, then score the pin with his Double Cross finish at the 7 minute mark.

The fifth bout saw company MVP Shingo defend the NEVER Title against Tama Tonga in a hard-hitting war, which was by far the best match on the show up to this point. The near 30K in attendance were going crazy for this as they hit all their big spots, massive Lariats and Gun Stun counters. After Takagi scored a great near fall with Made in Japan, Tama went to the Bullet Club well, hitting a Gun Stun, Bloody Sunday AND a Styles Clash, before putting Shingo away with the DSD at 13:46 to claim his 4th NEVER Championship. Excellent stuff here, though seemingly Tama announced afterwards that he's finishing up with the company at the end of the month, so him winning is an... interesting decision. The double Tag Title match followed, which was a rematch of the Tag League Final between Bishamon and GoD. This was another great match, a fun sprint which saw the STRONG Champions win both sets of belts after ELP hit Goto with CRIII, and Hikuleo came off the top with a massive, but very unattractive, Big Splash to win the belts in 9:47. Just before this match, Nic Nemeth (the former Dolph Ziggler) and his brother Ryan turned up to sit at ringside. I think we all know there's some kind of angle coming here.

Speaking of career rivals, Hiromu and Despy faced off for the Jr. Heavy Title in the next bout. We've seen many versions of this match in recent history, and they're pretty much always excellent, so this fit that mould no doubt. Things started hot as Despy hit Hiromu with a Tope con Giro as he made his entrance, and they worked 100 mph from there. The challenger worked over the champions leg to set up the Numero Dos, but it wasn't to be. The finish saw Desperado escape the Hiromu Roll, then hit a Jay Driller, kept a hold and nailed Takahashi with a second Pinche Loco to win the strap at the 14:21 mark to end another great outing. We crowned an inaugural IWGP Global champion next, as Ospreay, Moxley and Finlay had a wild Triple Threat Match. This started with Mox and Ospreay agreeing to work together for the first 5 minutes in order to take out Finlay, then turn their attention on each other, before BC War Dogs Alex Coughlin and Gabe Kidd ran in. The babyfaces rallied a comeback though, which saw Ospreay put the invaders through tables with a Swanton Bomb to the outside, and Moxley took a post bump and gigged himself. Which I'm sure will shock many. The finishing stretch was insanely hot as Mox kicked at one from a Hidden Blade, but was put down with Stormbreaker, only for Finlay to hit Ospreay with his new Overkill finish, which is essentially a Brainbuster into a Go 2 Sleep, to become the inaugural Global champion in 22:17. In the post match, Finlay got into a shoving match and pull-apart with Nic Nemeth at ringside, which culminated in Nemeth chasing him to the back. So that looks to be Finlay's first title programme. Finlay going over was 100% the right call, with Ospreay leaving as a full-timer, they need to start making some top guys, and he's a good place to start.

Semi final time, and a true dream match next as Okada faced Danielson in a match I'd spent a good decade fantasy booking. After their slightly disappointing first encounter at Forbidden Door in June, due in no small part by Dragon legit breaking his arm during it, they came out with a lot to prove. And they certainly didn't disappoint this time as they had a superb wrestling encounter based around aggression and emotion. As anyone who's been watching Danielson since the ROH days can attest, when Bryan has a grudge with someone (Morishima, Nigel), he goes all out with the intensity, and it usually produces classics. The pacing, the limb-work, the storytelling, the drama... everything about this was essentially perfect. After Okada broke Danielson's arm in their previous match, Dragon obsessively set out to do the same here. And it lead to his downfall. The American Dragon was coming into this one with a fractured orbital bone, so Okada worked over that for a while too. Okada kicked out of a Busaiku Knee, Danielson locked on the same arm submission he tapped Okada out with at Forbidden Door, but The Rainmaker made the ropes. Dragon then stomped his f'n head in and locked in the LeBell Lock, only for Okada to hit a Rainmaker, but he was in too much pain from his devastated right arm, and couldn't make the cover. Danielson hit a big head kick and another Busaiku Knee, but rather than go for the cover, he elected to do the "Yes!" gimmick in the corner, and try another knee, but Okada hit an Emerald Flowsion, a Landslide, then another Rainmaker to fall on top of Dragon, and score the surprise win at the 23:24 (which it felt half of, by the way). This was a masterpiece, and I was legitimately shocked when the three count came. I could have watched this for an hour, it left me very much wanting a rubber match, and this is easily the best match of 2024 so far. They bowed to each other and shook hands in the post match.

The Keiji Muto fan club imploded in the main event as former LIJ stablemates Naito and SANADA (who was even dressed like Muto circa 1995), battled for the World Title. This was an excellent match, one that I didn't have a massive amount of interested in going into this show, but they had a really great clash. It's worth mentioning that something happened to SANADA here, I don't know if it was the biceps injury he's been dealing with since G1, or if he seperated his shoulder or something, but he was in noticeable discomfort through this, and it let to some wonky botches near the finish. They tried multiple times to do a Destino counter, but they couldn't pull it off. SANADA hit Dead Fall for the double down, then an Asai DDT, but Naito escaped a second Dead Fall attempt, and went for Valentia, but SANADA countered into an O'Connor Roll for a super close near fall. A Shining Wizard followed, but Naito turned another Dead Fall attempt into one of his own, finally hit Valentia, then finished the champion off with Destino to win his first World title at 25:42. It's worth pointing out that they clashed heads on the way down on the Destino, and Naito got busted open pretty bad over his eye. With Naito having finally won again in the main event of Tokyo Dome, he was about to Finish His Story, when EVIL and Dick Togo, of all people, ran-in in an attempt to ruin things like KENTA did in 2020. However, they hadn't bargained on SANADA, who nailed his former tag partner with a Shining Wizard, and Naito sent Dick packing with a low dropkick. SANADA then let Naito finish the story a decade in the making, and do his "De-Ja-Pon!!!" roll call to end the show and send everyone home happy. Whilst I applaud NJPW for giving SANADA a go, or just giving ANYONE NEW a shot at the top of the card (it's been very Groundhog Day for a long time up there, and this is something I've been encouraging since NAito at WK8!), I don't think it payed off liked they'd hoped. SANADA is a very good worker, and amazing athlete, but he's just missing something that would make him that major star. Which is obviously something Naito has in abundance, so I'm very pleased he got his big win here, as it was pretty much last chance saloon.

This was a tremendous card, not quite as good as last year's, I don't think, but still great, great stuff and well worth checking out. Especially the Okada/Danielson match!

NDT

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siremasterlawrence · 3 months

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Breathless Part 1

Part 1

“Oh Man! What luck!” I swear landing my leg on a strange looking orb as I pick it up lets my eyes slowly blow up in a bright white like glow. I close my eyes a bit sending my body in to a beautiful blue glow transporting him in to the ball as it hit the floor and it rolls to the edge of the cliff.

Next thing I know I am surrounded by a red gold, silver and slate black painted giant bar I own apparently and soon enough I am behind the bar. I laugh a bit think about what else I can get out of that damn orb now presently placed in the middle of the room causing a major chain of events.

The bar is now a magical place infusing the building to help me with my aims and plans I have had in the back of my mind and truly is everything. I jet on to the bar hopping over the bar on to the bar stool slipping off till I hit the ground running and heading to the main room pick it up and send it flying.

“I wish that could have super fucking pretty hot actors Andrew W Walker and bad ass Luke MacFarlane,”

“What the fuck? How the hell on earth?”

“Where am I? Where are we?”

“I am your Lord and Master”

“I am also your boss “

“You do not work as actors “

“This is my bar apart of my media “

“You work here and always have “

“You are my bartenders”

“You stay here all day “

“You make me millions “

“You are my employees”

“Yes boss”

“Put these aprons on“

“Yes boss”

“It’s time for your auditions”

“Strip for me”

“Get behind the bar “

“Hurry up “

“Hop off the bar”

“Make me a drink”

“Do it! Do it”

“Could have been faster”

“Sorry “

“You clean my shoes “

“You lick them”

“Good job! Your butts need to be in gear, your mind out of the gutter and get to work.”

Part 2

“I need sexy servers and dancers”

“Who Master?”

“Jaime Lomas”

“Ashley Taylor Dawson”

“Fuck? Who the hell?”

“Zip it! Your mind is blank”

“I am your God!”

“Yes boss”

“You belong to me”

“Dress in this”

“Stand on the table “

“Strip “

“Oh Master! Babe”

“Do you crave this body boss?”

“The groups are packing in”

“Hell Yes! Let’s party my king”

“Everyone! Who’s here?”

“My name is Jamie”

“Let me entertain you “

“Ashley join him”

“As you wish”

“My name is Ashley “

“I am fine”

“My body is hard “

“Watch my abs “

“Wash board abs”

“My tight ass”

“I love to do the pump”

“Hey don’t touch”

“This is my Master’s merchandise “

The end

Breathless Part 2

Tom Hardy and Andrew Garfield are the first celebrity and honored guest to my new club Breathless a magical island vacation spot for the elite. The two land on a private airline walking off of the planes staircase to the land they take off their sunshades and soon the sunlight is in their faces. The light rays shoots in to his eyes glowing so bright shaking him to his core very soon and enough freaking him one something stirs up in him.

————

The lights surrounding him shine over the majestic forest in the latter half of the island begin to shake with the leaves and branch are free flowing.Mindlessly Tom Hardy is the first to see it in the wind a chill cool air calls to him as his toe dug in propelling his feet ever forward in to the breach.

He steps in to the forest ever forward with any and all worries washing away in his cold and blank mind the deeper he goes the more he loses himself.The forest expands in to the jungle causing him to feel the power pour from underneath his feet yanking him in to the center as his shoes strip.

Ripping in to ribbons below his sole but the entirety of the ground floods flowing a cold embrace sending them shivering up his spine.The more he walks the socks come undone as well, as his face goes slack, his eyes turn dull gray and something in him drives him in to the brink

The jeans stripping like a reel shitting on to the ground, the area begins spinning as he looks upward to the sky and he falls back to the ground.Apparently! The grounds begins to melt in to the soil growing more covering up the island like quick sand or soon sinks in to the soil of the space.

The soul forms massive arms wrapping over his massive muscular body stretching in to the air and drops down descending till it is grasping his body pulling it down. I am in awe of this gigantic, tall and super titan of a man who will be under my absolute control for yeh rests of my his life no way out.

“Tsk tsk tsk”

“You fell for that so easily “

“Sorry Mr. Hardy!”

“I have loved you always”

“I’ve wanted you for so long “

“I can have you finally “

“This body “

“Yumm”

“I can lay on you all day “

“Muscles for days”

“Legs for days too”

“I could eat you up “

“I’ll leg you sink for now”

“Hear this”

“You belong to me for all existence”

“You are not human”

“A mere puppet for me”

“You are named slave”

“I am everything to you “

“I guide you “

“You have fallen”

“Yes Master”

“Make me your world “

“Accept me”

——-

“Andrew Garfield “

“Who? Who are you?”

“I am your inner voice “

“No! You can’t be…this”

“Can’t be? I know”

“My body is frozen “

“Exactly! I am in total control “

“I submerge your soul”

“Your consciousness is a blank state”

“You subconscious is a open world “

“I walk in to it “

“It is my own island “

“You love me”

“Live for me”

“I control you “

“You have no free will”

“No love”

“I am your God”

“Yes Master”

“You see the ocean “

“YES”

“Walk to the beach”

“Stand at the edge “

“Take a leap”

“Plunge in”

“Dive and dive “

“Swoosh you fell in to ocean”

The end

#andrew w walker #luke macfarlane #Jamie Lomas #Ashley Taylor Dawson #tom hardy #andrew garfield #tom holland #david beckham #bar #drink #hypnotic love #mind control #reprogramming #dancing #The Breathless Bar

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jamdoughnutmagician · 10 months

Text

Apartment Apparitions (Part 1)

Eddie Munson X Reader (Just Like Heaven AU)

Word Count:1, 671

Authour's Note: I'd had the idea bouncing around in my head for a few days and so I thought I'd get down to writing it. VERY heavily based on the 2005 film Just Like Heaven which also happens to be one of my most favourite films of all time

Next part/part 2

Apartment Apparitions Masterlist

Masterlist

Shit. You were already running late. The dark sky began to fall as you hot-footed it across the parking lot outside your office building. Your phone was pressed up against your ear as you muttered out your apologies to your best friend, Nancy. Your best friend who'd you promised to meet up with, after she'd told you she had met the most perfect man to set you up with. She meant well, she really did, but she was always trying to set you up on these dates.

“Sorry! Sorry! Sorry! I would’ve called ahead, but I got tied up at the office.” You babbled.

“Are you on your way now?” Nancy pressed.

“Yeah, I’m just making my way through the parking lot right now. Look I’m getting in my car right now, I’ll see you in a few minutes. Love you.” You reassured her.

“Alright. Love you too. See you soon.”

You hang up your phone and move to unlock the driver’s side door and get behind the wheel.

You start the car and begin to pull out of the parking lot and onto the main road, briefly flicking your eyes down to change the radio station blaring some very loud and obnoxious heavy-metal music. Suddenly the loud sound of tyres screeching causes you to whip your head up immediately.

There's a blinding bright white light and the feeling of your body being flung forwards and sharply pulled back, your seat belt clinging against your body. The last thing you remember is the loud shriek as your body made contact with the cold hard ground of the road.

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

With Nancy, and her husband Jonathan being the closest thing you had to family, they made the joint decision following your car accident, and then being placed in a coma, that in order to help pay your medical bills, that they would put your apartment up for rent.

Eddie followed in through the door behind the estate agent. He’d seen a few apartments at this point and nothing felt quite right. Hopefully this one would be right for him. His eyes scanned around the room, taking in his surroundings. The apartment wasn’t anything too grand, but it was nice enough. Nicely decorated, fully furnished and within close enough proximity to the city and close enough that his weekly visits to his uncle Wayne weren’t going to be out of his way. It was a good apartment, and in a place like Hawkins, that was rare.

“This place is great!” he said, pacing around the floor of the apartment. “It’s still on the market, I take it?” he asked hopefully.

“It is still available, although it’s just a month-to-month sublet.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah they were pretty tight-lipped about the whole thing, said it was a ‘family issue’. Didn’t feel like pushing them for an answer.”

Plopping himself to sit down on the sofa, Eddie stared around the apartment one more time before talking once more.

“I’ll take it!” he decides.

Eddie and his estate agent walked down to her office and he promptly signed his name on the papers. The following day Eddie moved his belongings into the apartment, and after changing into sweatpants and one of his old Metallica t-shirts, he slumped down in front of the tv with a bag of chips and a cold beer in his hand.

Hours later Eddie had more than his fair share of beers from his fridge and the tv was playing endlessly in front of his eyes, but his mind was miles away. He was already drunk as anything at this point, one more beer wasn’t going to hurt him. Getting up from his seat with a huff, he once again makes his way to the refrigerator to take out another bottle, and go back to his place on the couch.

“There’s nothing worth stealing here!!” you screech. “Please don’t hurt me! There’s no drugs or money or anything! Please don’t hurt me!” you cry.

“Woah, Woah hold on a moment. I’m not stealing anything!” Eddie defended. “I live here.”

“That’s impossible, you can’t live here because this is my apartment.” you said accusingly. Who even was this strange, long-haired man who was claiming to live in your apartment?

“I literally put the deposit down yesterday, signed the papers and everything.” Eddie explained.

You both stared each other down for a moment before Eddie spoke up again.

“Oh I see what’s happened.”

“What?”

“It’s a scam! They collect rent money from a bunch of people and then you never hear from them again. It's all a big scam.” Eddie scoffed, throwing his hands up in annoyance.

“What are you on about? This is all my stuff, this is my furniture!” you explain. “My couch, my coffee table…Is that a ring? Have you ever heard of a coaster?” You say snidely, wrinkling your nose in disgust.

“Look, I don’t know who you are, or why you’ve left my apartment in a frankly disgusting mess, but you need to leave, and you need to leave now. ”

Eddie watched as you stomped your way through the apartment to the kitchen. He shook his head at your demeanour. He was drunk, certainly, but he was not drunk enough for this. Following you into the kitchen he looks around, but strangely you were nowhere to be seen.

“Uhh..Hello? Crazy Lady…Where are you?” He called out as he made his way across the spread of the apartment.

Thank god you were gone.

Right. Perhaps a shower was the thing he needed. Yes. A nice hot shower to clear his mind.

Once he was freshly showered, he swiped his hand across the steam-frosted mirror to see you staring back at him, startling him with your clipped tone of voice.

“I thought I told you to get out?”

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

“Alright then? So what’s this all about, huh?” Steve said as he sat down opposite Eddie, setting his coffee on the table.

“What nothing? Can’t a guy just want to meet up with his friend?” Eddie said defensively.

“There’s always something with you, Munson, so spill.”

“Okay, so the thing is, I’ve sort of been seeing someone.”

“Yes! That’s great! Good for you, man.” Steve says, nodding his head at Eddie’s confession.

“What? You think that’s a good thing?”

“Absolutely, I mean, come on! The last time I tried to set you up on a date you totally bailed on me.” Steve continues. “..But the fact that you initiated this by yourself? Good for you man, I’m happy for you!”

“Not really what I mean, Steve. I mean I’m kind of seeing someone who’s not really there.” Eddie explains.

“Oh they’re not emotionally available, I’ve been down that route, it’s tough, dude”

Eddie rolls his eyes and glares at Steve with a look of annoyance.

“Again, not what I mean, Harrington. I think my apartment is, like, haunted or some shit?”

“So it’s a ghost you’re seeing?” Steve realises, his voice sounding slightly confused.

“I saw her twice whilst I was in my apartment. A woman.”

“Was she hot?” Steve snickers.

“You’re missing the point, Steve.” Eddie sighs at Steve’s attempt at a joke.

“Were you drunk when you saw this woman?” Steve asks pointedly.

“I’d had one or two drinks..” Eddie trails off.

“Don’t bullshit me, Munson.”

“Alright, fine! I was totally hammered! But still, I shouldn’t be seeing ghosts and shit in my house, right?”

“I think you should just go back to your apartment, and get a good night’s sleep. Maybe cut back on the drinking, then perhaps you might not see your little ghostly woman.” Steve laughs. “Alright man, I’ve gotta get going now. Get some sleep, I’m serious. It’ll do you good.” He tells Eddie before bringing him into a hug and walking away.

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

Back at his apartment Eddie reaches into the fridge for one last beer before he heads off to bed. As he shuts the fridge door he sees you behind the door, once again frightening him with a jump.

“Are you still here?”

There you were, once again. Your voice ringing out loud and clear.

“I don’t know how much more clearer I can make this to you. Get. Out. Of. My. Apartment!” you said sharply, your eyes narrowing at him.

“It’s my apartment, I live here. Not you.” Eddie said snappily, jabbing his finger in your direction.

“That’s it!” you cried, throwing your hands up “You leave me with no other choice. I’m gonna have to call the cops.” you said, as you began to reach your hand out towards your phone. You tried to pick up the phone but everytime you did, your hand went through it. You couldn’t hold it or touch it or anything.

“What the hell did you do to my phone?” you squawked.

Eddie’s eyes widened in shock as he watched you. Was this really happening right now? Was he actually having a conversation with a ghost?

“What are you on about? I didn’t do anything” held his hands up defensively.

“Then why can’t I grab my phone?” you shouted.

“Because you’re a ghost! You died and now you’ve come back to haunt me in my apartment” Eddie said as he walked towards you.

“I am not a ghost.” you said angrily, taking a step back as the taller man stalked closer to you.

“Yes you are! I’m just trying to help you come to terms with it. There should be a bright light, why don’t you try walking into it?”

“I am not dead. Stop saying that! I think I would know if I was dead.”

You watched as the expression of the man opposite you fell. His anger towards you was replaced by a look of complete and utter shock.

You stop for a moment to look around you, to see what he was shocked about, when you saw your body standing through your kitchen table.You’d completely walked through it without even realising it.

“What’s happening to me?” you gasped. How was that even possible?

“You’re a ghost!”

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

Tags: @sunflowerdaydreamer @itsfreakingbats @munsonology @mcbeanzontoast @penguinsandpotterheads @seatnights @harringtons-cupid @thefuseoftemptation

#Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x female reader fluff #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson stranger things

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muzzleroars · 1 year

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cake does it help if i told you that my brain failed to comprehend gabriel's true face? like. it scrambled itself upon setting sight on it

I’M GLAD...bc i still believe his true face is unknowable,,,,except here's a better view i doodled of it to get it right

his eyes are meant to mimic the colors of a dawn sky and his flames are inspired by the fire produced by potassium (bc i...think it’s pretty)!! contrary to what i drew too, he never removes his helmet as his face is meant to only be seen by god (plus the light from it really IS too bright lol) i definitely wanted it to be classical angel (despite archangels being almost entirely human-looking) and a little hard to parse upon first seeing it bc 1) divine monsters good and 2) VERY funny to imagine this throwing those tantrums. big baby!!!!!

#all of those eyes crying and sobbing #putting out his ghost of christmas past head #i will say in my idea of coming canon events #he does show v1 his face right before he croaks #his light is very dim by then and his head is basically. embers.#cake answers #gabriel #doodle tag

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