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Hidden Flavor

Summary: With the Grand Ball only a day away, preparations are in full swing across Darkwick Academy. While helping Sho choose an outfit for the event, you find yourself facing an entirely different challenge: keeping your jealousy under control. Sho naturally finds the situation hilarious. As admirers gather around him and his shameless flirting pushes every one of your buttons, what begins as playful bickering quickly turns into a heartfelt reminder of where his attention truly lies.

The Grand Ball is tomorrow and that fact has managed to turn Darkwick Academy into complete chaos. Students rushed through hallways carrying decorations, invitations exchanged hands, dresses and suits were discussed with utmost seriousness. Meanwhile, you were standing on the first-floor receiving area, trying very hard not to lose your patience. Specifically because of one person named Sho, the infuriatingly talented and unfortunately for your peace of mind, ridiculously handsome. The sound of shoes against marble echoed through the corridor and you looked up.

Then immediately regretted it. "...You've got to be kidding me."

Sho leaned casually against the railing above you as if he had stepped out of some romance novel. His white polo was partially unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled up carelessly to his elbows, a mustard necktie hung loosely over his neck. His silver-blue hair looked slightly messy, as though he'd been changing outfits for the last hour knowing him, he probably had.

One hand rested lazily on the railing. The other toyed with the necklace hanging around his neck then he bit lightly against the chain and winked directly at you and you just stared, Sho grinned. "Oh?" His voice dripped with amusement. "That look means you like this one. You looked for three whole seconds."

"No, I didn't."

"You absolutely did."

"I was judging your fashion choices."

"Sure." The smirk on his face grew wider. "You were staring."

You folded your arms. "I was not."

"Liar."

"You are unbelievably annoying."

"And yet you're dating me."

"..."

"...Unfortunately."

Sho burst out laughing, the sound echoed through the hall and you hated how much you liked hearing it. Unfortunately, there was another problem, several girls stood not far behind you and they were very obviously staring at Sho; whispering, giggling and pointing. One of them nearly squealed when Sho pushed his hair back. Your eye twitched and you slowly turned around, the girls froze as you smiled in an unfriendly way. The kind of smile that silently communicated: Leave immediately. The girls visibly panicked, one grabbed another's arm, the entire group hurried away while bowing apologetically.

"S-Sorry!"

"We were just looking!"

"We're leaving!"

Within seconds, they vanished and a laugh followed from a distance, you turned. Sho was practically folding over the railing, as if he looked entirely too pleased with himself. "Oh, that was priceless."

You narrowed your eyes. "Not a word."

"I didn't even say anything."

"You were thinking about it."

Sho wiped a tear from his eye. "You scared them."

"They were staring and you're my boyfriend." The words left your mouth before you could stop them.

Sho blinked then smiled, a real smile this time different from his usual cocky grin, the kind he reserved only for you. Sho apparently wasn't finished causing trouble, a moment later he pushed himself off the railing and descended the staircase, slowly like he knew exactly what he was doing, which he probably did. You watched him approach, one, two, three steps until he stood directly in front of you, closely as his blue eyes sparkled with mischief.

"What?"

You immediately grew suspicious, that expression never meant anything good.

"What what?"

"That look."

"What look?"

"The one that says you're about to be annoying."

Sho laughed. "You know me too well."

"Unfortunately."

"There it is again."

You tried to maintain your composure, he reached up and gently flicked your forehead.

"Ow."

"You've been glaring at everyone all afternoon."

"They keep looking at you."

"And?"

"And I don't like it."

The confession escaped before you could stop it. For a second, neither of you spoke, Sho stared then his grin returned worse than before. "Oh, you're jealous."

"I am not."

"You absolutely are."

"I am not."

"You are."

You pushed his shoulder, Sho didn't move.

"You enjoy this way too much."

"A little."

"A little?"

"Okay." He laughed. "A lot."

Your irritation only grew which somehow made him happier and you hated that, Sho leaned closer.

"You know something?"

"What?"

"You're cute when you're jealous."

Your face immediately heated. "No." You shoved him again, he caught your wrist effortlessly enough to stop you, his thumb brushed lightly against your hand. The teasing expression softened slightly.

"I mean it."

You blinked. Sho's gaze remained fixed on yours.

"I know I joke around a lot." He admitted it immediately. "But I'm serious about one thing."

The playful atmosphere faded, his voice lowered. "Tomorrow, I'm dancing with you."

Your heart skipped.

"No one else." His fingers tightened slightly around yours.

"Got it?"

You looked away because looking directly at him suddenly felt impossible. "...You better."

Sho laughed softly. "There she is."

The comfortable silence lasted only a few seconds, Sho possessed an incurable condition known as being Sho. He leaned down near your ear far too close, you could feel the warmth of his breath. "If you're this jealous now..." His voice became a teasing whisper. "...maybe I should reward you tomorrow night."

You froze completely, your brain stopped functioning. "What."

Sho's grin widened. "Oh, you heard me."

"SHO."

"What?"

"You can't just say things like that."

"Why not?"

"You know why not."

His shoulders shook with laughter. "You should see your face right now."

You pushed him away immediately hard this time, he actually stumbled a step because he was laughing too much.

"You're impossible!"

"And you're adorable."

"Stop it."

"No."

"Stop."

"Never."

The two of you continued arguing all the way down the corridor. At least, that's what it looked like from the outside, beneath every complaint and every teasing remark was something neither of you needed to say aloud, trust and affection. The certainty that tomorrow, when the ballroom lights illuminated the academy and music filled the grand hall Sho would be waiting for you out of everyone in the room, he would only be looking for one person. Despite all your jealousy, all your worries, and all his shameless teasing, you knew that whenever Sho's eyes found yours, they never lingered anywhere else for long and that was proof enough.

Satire for the Lonely

Summary: Curiosity becomes dangerous when you grow drawn to Elias Pratt, the academy’s disgraced former Dionysia Captain whose smiles hide far more than they reveal. Despite endless warnings to stay away, you continue following him deeper into secrets, riddles, and a connection neither of you fully understands. Beneath Elias’ gentlemanly charm lies something unsettling: red threads of fate, hidden truths, and a heart locked away behind the mask of a jester. The closer you get to him, the harder it becomes to tell whether you are falling in love… or walking willingly into ruin.

⌯⌲ Pls listen to the music inspo while reading: Fruit of Lies

The first time you follow Elias Pratt is not intentional or at least, that is the lie you tell yourself. It begins with the sound of laughter, the warm kind that fills corridors and makes students linger after curfew. You hear it somewhere behind the stained-glass hallway connecting the Dionysia wing to the abandoned theatre rooms, and before you realize it, your feet are already moving.

Darkwick at night is a living thing, candles flickering without wind. Portraits blink when no one looks directly at them. The halls inhale secrets and exhale rumors, students learn quickly not to wander alone after midnight. But there you are, following him. Elias Pratt walks several paces ahead, hands tucked into the pockets of his dark coat, posture relaxed enough to seem harmless. Moonlight spills through the windows and paints silver across his pale skin. His ash brown hair fading lighter at the tips catches the light like burnt parchment. Even from behind, there is something theatrical about him.

A performer, a fool, a jester. You have heard enough stories already.

"Don’t get close to him."

"He’s dangerous."

"You won’t understand until it’s too late."

But every time you ask why, nobody answers properly. They only look uncomfortable as though speaking of Elias aloud might summon him, and perhaps it does. He stops walking, without turning around, he says lightly,

“You’re terribly bad at stalking people.”

Your entire body freezes, the corridor suddenly feels too narrow and silent. Slowly, Elias glances over his shoulder. Slate-blue eyes meet yours, gleaming with amusement sharp enough to cut skin.

“Should I pretend not to notice next time?” he asks. “Or would that ruin the thrill for you?”

“I wasn’t stalking you.”

“Mhm.”

“You were walking suspiciously.”

“That’s worse,” he says with a laugh. “Now I sound interesting.”

He finally turns fully toward you, expression gentle enough to fool anyone unfamiliar with him. Unfortunately, that includes you.

“You should go back to your dormitory,” Elias says softly. “Curious people tend to meet their ends first around here.”

“Is that a warning?”

“No.” His smile deepens. “A spoiler.”

You should leave, anyone with common sense would. Instead, you step closer.

“Then why are you here?”

For a moment, something flickers behind his eyes, surprised and gone almost immediately.

“Hm,” he hums. “You ask dangerous questions.”

“And you avoid answering them.”

“That’s because answers are boring.” Elias places a hand dramatically against his chest. “Mystery is much more romantic.”

You almost laugh despite yourself, that is the first mistake. The second is continuing to meet him afterward.

· · · · ──────────── ·✶· ──────────── · · · ·

Elias appears unpredictably after that; sometimes in the library, lounging across forbidden archives like a cat that owns the place, sometimes on rooftops, sometimes seated alone in the old theatre watching an empty stage as dust dances through the spotlight. And every single time, he looks at you as though he had expected you to come, like he had already seen it- already planned it.

“You’re staring again,” he says one evening.

You blink, realizing he caught you observing the way his fingers shuffled tarot cards with impossible dexterity.

“You make it difficult not to.”

“Oh?” Elias fans the cards between elegant fingers. “Should I take that as admiration or concern?”

“Neither.”

“What a bad liar.”

His smile curves lazily. You hate how your heartbeat changes whenever he looks directly at you and it’s ridiculous. You barely know him, you only know fragments; a former captain of Dionysia House and punished, someone who failed his duties badly enough to lose his position. Someone people fear, but when he speaks to you, he is patient, attentive- almost tender. He notices details no one else does, the way you rub your wrists when nervous, how you prefer sitting near exits, how your expression changes before you ask questions. It unsettles you, nobody else ever has.

“You analyze people too much,” you tell him one night.

Elias rests his cheek against one hand.

“And you trust too easily.”

“I don’t trust you.”

“Another lie.”

The corner of his mouth lifts. “You followed me into abandoned hallways.”

“That’s just curiosity.”

“Curiosity killed the cat.”

He leans forward slightly then, voice quieter. “But satisfaction brought it back.”

Something about the way he says it makes heat creep into your face. Elias notices immediately, and his laughter rings softly through the empty room.

· · · · ──────────── ·✶· ──────────── · · · ·

The mission changes everything, it is supposed to be simple. Except everything goes wrong. You do not even realize you are being hunted until the corridor erupts with shouts behind you.

“Run,” Elias says instantly. The two of you sprint through dim passageways beneath the building, footsteps echoing violently against stone. Your lungs gasping for air. Somewhere behind pursuers close in.

“What did you do?” you hiss.

“What makes you think it was me?”

“Elias—”

He grabs your wrist suddenly and yanks you sideways. A hidden compartment, the door slams shut behind you and darkness swallows everything, the space is tiny. You stumble directly into his chest, your breath catches. Elias braces one arm against the wall beside your head to steady both of you as footsteps from outside, getting closer. Then silence, neither of you move. You can feel him breathing, warm and slow. Your bodies are nearly pressed together from lack of space. His coat brushes your knees. One of your hands ends up trapped against his chest and under layers of fabric, you can feel his heartbeat strangely steady as though danger does not frighten him at all.

“You’re shaking,” he murmurs.

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

His voice is barely above a whisper now. In the dark it sounds different and less playful. Something shifts gently near your hand and it is his fingers. They hesitate before carefully wrapping around your wrist, like a protection and your pulse becomes unbearable.

“Scared?” Elias asks quietly.

“Yes.”

“Good.”

You glare despite the darkness. “That’s terrible comfort.”

“You misunderstand.” His thumb brushes your skin once. “Fear keeps people alive.”

Footsteps pass again outside, you instinctively press closer to him and Elias goes completely still. For the first time since you met him, silence falls over him entirely, there’s only tension. You realize then how close your faces are. If either of you moved even slightly- your thoughts cut off when Elias suddenly laughs softly under his breath.

“You really are dangerous,” he whispers.

“What?”

“You make me hesitate.”

Something twists painfully in your chest, before you can ask what he means, the footsteps disappear completely. Elias opens the compartment door as moonlight floods in and just like that, the moment dies and he steps away first.

· · · · ──────────── ·✶· ──────────── · · · ·

People notice afterward, how often Elias walks beside you. How his gaze finds you in crowded rooms, how you linger near each other too long. Rumors spread quickly in Darkwick and Towa corners you eventually.

“Sundew is poisonous,” he says flatly.

You blink. “Sundew?”

“Elias.”

“That’s a flower.”

“A carnivorous one.”

The silence afterward feels intentional, warning enough but warnings have stopped working on you because the more you learn about Elias, the less monstrous he becomes. You begin noticing cracks beneath the performance; moments when his smile falters after everyone looks away, the exhaustion hidden behind humor, the way he watches others celebrate without joining them, the way loneliness clings to him like perfume.

One rainy evening, you find him alone backstage in the abandoned theatre. He sits at the edge of the stage with his head tilted back, eyes closed.

“You’re quiet tonight,” you say gently.

Elias opens one eye. “And you’re persistent.”

You sit beside him anyway, neither of you speak for a while as rain taps softly outside.

Then Elias suddenly asks, “Do you know why jesters existed?”

You glance at him. “To entertain?”

“That’s what kings told themselves.” A faint smile touches his lips. “But jesters were useful because they could say things nobody else survived saying.”

His gaze drifts toward the dark audience seats. “They laughed so people wouldn’t notice the truth.”

Something about his voice makes your chest ache.

“Is that what you do?” you ask carefully.

Elias laughs softly. “You make me sound tragic.”

“Aren’t you?”

For a moment, he says nothing then he looks at you fully, and the smile disappears.

“Yes,” he says quietly.

The honesty shocks you more than any lie could have, you realize then that Elias only tells the truth when it hurts.

· · · · ──────────── ·✶· ──────────── · · · ·

You start dreaming about red threads after that, thin crimson strings tangled around your fingers and around his, leading somewhere dark and somewhere irreversible. Then one night, you finally see them, not in dreams but reality. You wake unable to sleep and wander through the academy until faint light catches your eye beneath a half-open door.

Inside sits Elias all alone, scissors glint between his fingers. And in his hand are red threads, they stretch through the darkness like veins. Some threads are cut already and others remain taut. Your blood runs cold, Elias notices you instantly. He does not look surprised, only tired. The scissors snap shut, one crimson thread coils around his wrist like a living thing.

“What is this?” you whisper.

He studies you silently, then terrifyingly smiles at you.

“Connection,” Elias says.

The thread wrapped around his fingers tightens. “A terrifying thing.”

You stare at the threads, at the countless cut ends littering the floor. “You’re severing them?”

“Some people should not stay connected.”

“You’re talking like fate is real.”

“Oh, fate is very real.” His gaze lifts slowly toward you. “And very cruel.”

Then you notice one red thread thin and unbroken. Connected to him, connected to you. Your breath catches. For the first time since meeting him something unreadable fractures across his expression, a tiny fear.

“You should leave,” he says quietly.

But you cannot move. “Why is it connected to me?”

Elias looks down at the thread around his fingers, his grip tightens hard enough to draw blood.

“Because,” he says softly, “you keep choosing me.”

The room feels unbearably cold.

“You could cut it.”

“Yes.”

“Then why haven’t you?”

Silence lingers for a short while and then Elias laughs. Except it sounds wrong, broken at the edges.

“Curiosity,” he murmurs.

His eyes meet yours again, you step toward him before thinking, the red thread trembles. Elias immediately raises the scissors, sharp and threatening, but his hand shakes.

“Don’t,” he warns softly.

You stop because he suddenly looks afraid of himself.

“You think I’m kind,” Elias says quietly. “That’s your first mistake.”

“I never said you were kind.”

“No.” A hollow smile. “You said I was lonely.”

The scissors press against the thread. One movement, one cut and it’s finished. Yet he cannot do it. His heart stays hidden behind performances and riddles and cruel laughter. Connection terrifies him more than isolation ever did. A jester can mock higher people, manipulate crowds, and wear endless masks. But love? Love is honest. Love places your heart into another person’s hands and hopes they will not crush it. For someone like Elias, that must feel unbearable.

“You don’t have to cut it,” you whisper.

“You don’t know what happens if I don’t.”

“Then tell me.”

Elias smiles sadly. “There’s the cat again.”

You slowly step closer until the scissors lower slightly, close enough to see exhaustion beneath his eyes, close enough to see how tightly the thread winds around his fingers. Hurting him. Binding him too.

“You said connection was terrifying,” you murmur.

“It is.”

“Then why do you look sad?”

Something inside Elias finally cracks, just enough for you to glimpse the person hidden beneath the jester’s mask, because beneath the wit and deception and dangerous smiles, Elias Pratt is painfully human and devastatingly lonely.

“You really want the truth?” he asks quietly.

“Yes.”

His eyes close briefly. “Because if I let myself keep this thread…” His voice nearly disappears. “…I might start wanting things I can’t have.”

Your chest tightens painfully, rain begins outside somewhere far away, like applause after a tragedy. Elias finally looks at you not like a game, not like a curiosity and not like another piece on the board, but like someone capable of destroying him completely. The scissors slip from his fingers, clatter against the floor as he lets the thread remain uncut.

…Or was this all an act? Who knows…

Late Night Rain

Summary: Haru wakes from a nightmare tied to the trauma surrounding his prosthetic arm. Usually energetic and endlessly cheerful, he finds himself unable to hide his vulnerability from you. Instead of letting you leave, Haru quietly asks you to stay beside him, leading to a tender late-night moment filled with unspoken understanding. As rain falls outside, you soothe him back to sleep with gentle touches and a lullaby, hoping that one day he’ll no longer have to carry his pain alone.

⌯⌲ The lullaby that you humm: The Last Night in Lahai-Roi

Rain tapped softly against the windows endlessly. The room was dim except for the pale blue glow leaking through the curtains. Lightning occasionally flickered somewhere far away, briefly illuminating the scattered energy drink cans on Haru’s desk and Peekaboo curled into a tiny ball near the foot of the bed.

You slept beside Haru beneath tangled blankets, your face half-hidden against the pillow. Unlike him, your sleep was light enough that even someone coming down the stairs that’s close enough to the bedroom could wake you. So when Haru suddenly jerked upright with a sharp inhale, the entire bed shook. His breathing was ragged and uneven, like he had surfaced from drowning. For a few seconds, he didn’t move at all. The rain outside continued to fall.

His silver eyes stared blankly ahead and unfocused, strands of his hair clinging to his forehead. Moonlight caught the metallic sheen of his prosthetic arm, the cold steel contrasting harshly against the warmth of his bare skin. The mechanical fingers twitched once, then clenched tightly. You stirred a moment later, blinking sleepily into the darkness.

“…Haru?”

Your voice came out soft and hoarse with sleep, he flinched slightly at hearing your voice. You pushed yourself up slowly, rubbing one eye before looking toward him properly. Even in the dim light, you could tell something was wrong immediately.

Haru was always loud, bright, cheerful in a way that overwhelmed entire rooms. Even exhausted, he smiled. Even stressed, he joked. Even when everyone else was falling apart, Haru somehow stood at the center holding everything together with ridiculous optimism and caffeine. But right now he looked painfully small, the silence around him felt unnatural. Rainwater rolled down the window behind him, streaking the glass like tears.

“…Bad dream?” you asked quietly.

Haru didn’t answer, his shoulders rose and fell. You noticed his gaze slowly lower toward his right prosthetic arm. Something in your chest tightened, you didn’t need him to say it as you had seen that look before. The distant expression, the way his jaw locked slightly. The subtle tension whenever conversations drifted too close to his arm, to the past, to things he carefully buried beneath laughter and endless energy.

You never pushed for answers not because you didn’t care. In time, you know that he’ll say it all when he’s ready. So instead, you simply shifted closer beside him, close enough for your shoulder to brush his back. The room remained quiet except for the rain, after a long moment, you spoke gently.

“…Do you want a warm drink before going back to sleep?”

You stretched slightly, trying to sound casual despite the worry curling inside you.

“I kind of want one too.”

Haru still didn’t answer immediately then he turned toward you. The expression on his face caught you off guard- he looks tired and vulnerable. Before you could move to get up, cold mechanical fingers lightly wrapped around your wrist.

You blinked. Haru’s grip wasn’t tight, it felt hesitant like he was afraid you might pull away.

“…Don’t go.”

Your breath caught slightly, it startled you more than if he had shouted. He was looking at you now with something painfully soft in his eyes. The storm outside rumbled quietly, he gave your wrist the faintest tug. Those silver eyes met yours fully now, no jokes hiding behind them. And suddenly, he looked like a lost child asking not to be left alone, your heart melted instantly.

“…Okay,” you whispered.

Haru visibly relaxed at that single word. You shifted back against the headboard, pulling the blankets around your lap. For a moment he simply watched you almost uncertainly, before slowly laying back down beside you but Haru buried his face against your waist, arms loosely wrapping around you while carefully avoiding pressing the metal arm uncomfortably against your side. The position was so unexpectedly clingy that warmth flooded your chest immediately. You looked down at him in disbelief.

“Haru,” you whispered with a tiny laugh, “you’re acting like a baby.”

“I’m sleep deprived,” he mumbled against the fabric near your stomach. “That doesn’t count.”

“You say that every time.”

“Because it’s true every time.”

Despite yourself, you smiled. There he was, a little bit of his usual self. Your fingers slowly moved into his hair; soft and slightly messy from sleep. You gently combed your fingers through his hair, scratching lightly against his scalp the way he liked. His reaction was immediate, Haru exhaled quietly, shoulders loosening beneath your touch.

“…There,” you murmured. “Better?”

“Mhm.”

“You’re too easy.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It absolutely is.”

He huffed softly and you felt the faintest smile against you as the room settled again afterward. The mechanical arm rested beside him on the sheets, unmoving now. Yet even without words, you could feel the lingering ache surrounding it. You wondered what he had seen in that nightmare, what memories haunted him enough to rip him awake like that… or maybe something worse. Maybe not the physical pain at all, maybe the loneliness afterward, the helplessness and the fear.

You looked down at him quietly.

Haru spent so much of himself taking care of everyone else that you sometimes forgot who took care of him. Jabberwock relied on him. Others complained about him constantly, yet still followed him anyway because Haru somehow kept the entire house from collapsing into chaos. He motivated people even when they hated it, he worried constantly like a mother, worked endlessly like a father, smiled endlessly and somewhere along the way, he had probably forgotten he was allowed to be weak and rest too.

Your hand slowed slightly against his hair.

“Haru?”

“Hm?”

“You know…” your voice softened, “you don’t always have to pretend you’re okay.”

His hold around your waist tightened faintly.

“…I know.”

But the answer sounded uncertain, you continued gently running your fingers through his scalp.

“I mean it.”

“…Sometimes I feel stupid.”

“For what?”

“The nightmare stuff.”

His voice was muffled slightly against you.

“It’s just a dream, right? But sometimes I wake up and it still feels real.” He laughed weakly. “Kinda pathetic of me.”

Your chest ached, you immediately shook your head.

“That’s not pathetic.”

Haru didn’t respond. You looked out toward the rain-covered window.

“I think…” you began slowly, choosing your words carefully, “when people get hurt badly enough, some pain stays longer than it should.”

The storm flashed pale blue across the room.

“And pretending it doesn’t hurt anymore won’t magically make it disappear.”

For a while, Haru simply listened.

“…You always say things like that.”

“Like what?”

“Stuff that hits too hard at two in the morning.”

You laughed softly under your breath.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.”

His voice had grown sleepier now, your fingers continued threading through his hair slowly and rhythmically. You could practically feel the exhaustion dragging at him again.

“…Can you sing me a lullaby?” he asked suddenly.

You blinked.

“You’ll regret this when you hear my voice.”

“I doubt it.”

You sighed dramatically, though affection tugged at every word.

“Fine,” you whispered. “Only because you asked nicely.”

“I always ask nicely.”

He laughed softly.

Carefully, you leaned your head back against the headboard and began humming softly. The kind meant for quiet nights and tired hearts. Your fingers never stopped moving through his hair while you sang. The rain outside accompanied you like background music, soft percussion against the windows. Gradually, Haru relaxed further against your waist, the tension left him piece by piece; his breathing slowed and the faint crease between his brows disappeared. You lowered your gaze toward him, eyes already closed now. Without his usual grin and loud energy, he looked unexpectedly delicate, just a man carrying more weight than he should. Your voice softened even more toward the end of the lullaby. You gently brushed his bangs away from his forehead.

“…I hope,” you whispered quietly after the song ended, “that someday the nightmares stop hurting you.”

The rain continued falling.

“I hope you can forget the pain enough to sleep peacefully.”

Your fingers lightly traced through his hair once more.

“And I hope,” you murmured almost silently, “you never have to carry it alone again.”

No response came, only slow even breathing and you smiled faintly. Haru had completely fallen asleep, his hold around your waist had loosened; soft and unconscious now, like he simply wanted reassurance you were still there. You looked down at him fondly and carefully, you adjusted the blanket around his shoulders so he wouldn’t get cold. Peekaboo stirred near the foot of the bed before waddling sleepily closer, curling near Haru’s side again.

The storm outside slowly softened, the rain no longer sounded lonely. You leaned your head gently against the bed headboard behind you, continuing to card your fingers lightly through Haru’s hair even after he was asleep just in case he woke up frightened again. And with pale blue light spilling softly into the room, you fall asleep too. Still holding him together quietly in your arms.

Deathless Night

Summary: After a string of successful missions, Rui Mizuki invites you into his bar late one evening as a quiet thank-you. What starts as a playful night of cocktails and teasing turns into something softer; shared conversations, a gentle escort back to your dorm, and late-night messages neither of you want to end. Beneath all Rui’s flirtatious charm lies the loneliness of a curse he can never escape, but with you, even ordinary moments begin to feel precious enough to cherish forever. By the end of the night, Rui finally finds the perfect name for the cocktail that he made only for you.

⌯⌲ Inspo song: Sandali by Cup of Joe

Moonlight shines behind stained glass windows, bleeding muted purples and crimson reds across the stone hallways like diluted wine. You had just finished returning from the library when a familiar voice called out from behind you.

“Ah, there you are.”

You turned and saw Rui Mizuki leaned casually against the doorway of the bar. One gloved hand rested in his pocket while the other lifted in an easy wave. His pale ruby-colored eyes curved with amusement the moment they landed on you. As if he’s not waiting for you all night outside, taking the time to impress you. Rui looked lighter and relaxed, brimming with excitement. He straightened his posture from the doorway and motioned toward the warmly lit bar behind him.

“Come in for a bit?”

You blinked. “At this hour?”

“Mhm.” His smile widened playfully. “I wanted to make you a cocktail.”

The way he said it made you laugh quietly.

“You’re inviting me into your bar just to make me a drink?”

“Not just any drink,” Rui corrected dramatically, placing a hand over his chest. “A special drink.”

“Why am I receiving special treatment?”

He hummed thoughtfully, stepping aside so you could enter first.

“Well… the last few missions went smoothly because of you, didn’t they?”

The warmth from the bar wrapped around you immediately. Unlike the gothic atmosphere outside, the inside of the room felt strangely comforting. Amber lights reflected against rows of glass bottles lined neatly behind the counter. Velvet stools sat empty tonight, and soft jazz crackled faintly from an old speaker in the corner. It felt less like a haunted dormitory bar and more like a hidden sanctuary. Rui walked behind the counter with practiced ease.

“So,” he continued casually, rolling his sleeves slightly, “consider this my gratitude.”

“You don’t have to thank me for doing my job.”

“Too late,” he replied. “I already decided.”

You sat at the counter while Rui began gathering ingredients with surprising professionalism and maybe that should not have surprised you. Rui was sociable by nature, he adapted to people effortlessly, slipping into conversations and roles with ease, but watching him work here inside his own space felt different somehow and it’s comforting. He moved gracefully behind the counter, spinning a shaker once in his hand before catching it with effortless precision.

“You practiced that beforehand, didn’t you?”

“Ouch.” Rui pressed a hand against his heart. “You wound me.”

“You definitely practiced.”

“Maybe a little.”

“Aha.”

He laughed softly under his breath. You rested your chin on your palm while watching him mix the drink. Crimson liquid poured over ice with a soft clink, he added garnishes with careful attention, adjusting even the smallest detail before seeming satisfied.

“You’re really serious about this.”

“Of course I am.” Rui glanced up at you. “If I’m making something for you, it has to be perfect.”

The words were spoken casually, yet somehow they settled in your chest anyway. Rui paused briefly while stirring the drink. His eyes lingered on you for half a second longer than necessary then he smiled again before looking away.

“You know,” he said lightly, “it’s kind of nice having you around Obscuary lately.”

“Is that your way of saying you miss me when I’m not here?”

“Maybe.”

Your breath caught slightly. Rui said things like that all the time, flirtatious and playful. Everyone in Darkwick Academy knew Rui was charming, but sometimes… he said things so gently that you couldn’t tell whether he was teasing or being honest. Maybe that uncertainty was what made your heartbeat stumble every single time. A few minutes later, he finally slid the finished cocktail toward you. The drink glowed beautifully; a deep reddish pink fading into darker crimson near the bottom of the glass. Ice cubes shimmered between floating cherries and rosemary, it looked elegant. Rui leaned forward against the counter expectantly.

“You’re staring at me like this is an exam.”

“It is.”

You laughed quietly before lifting the glass. The first sip surprised you immediately- smooth, sweet at first, then slightly bitter afterward in a way that balanced perfectly together. There was warmth to it and not overwhelming enough to spread pleasantly through your chest.

“…Wait,” you murmured. “This is actually really good.”

Rui gasped dramatically. “Actually?”

“I mean—”

“You doubted me?”

“A little.”

He shook his head with exaggerated disappointment, though his smile betrayed him instantly. Still, you noticed the subtle relief in his expression after your reaction, like your opinion genuinely mattered to him.

“So?” Rui asked. “What do you think?”

“I think you missed your calling.”

“Oh?”

“You could’ve become a bartender professionally.”

“Hm…” He rested his cheek against his gloved hand thoughtfully. “But then who would suffer through dangerous missions with you?”

“…You make it sound like I drag you into trouble.”

“You absolutely do.”

You smiled looking onto your glass. For a while, the conversation drifted naturally, about missions, about Obscuary, about Edward mysteriously appearing and disappearing like a ghost. Rui complained dramatically about cleaning up after him, again.

“You have no idea how terrifying it is,” Rui sighed. “I’ll walk into his room and somehow find socks everywhere like a kid and he’s nowhere to be found!”

“Maybe the socks fell.”

“By itself?”

“…Maybe the ghosts did it.”

“Don’t encourage them.”

You laughed softly. Rui stared at you for a moment and when you finally glanced back up, he quickly looked away with a small cough. You hid your grin behind your glass. Eventually, your eyes drifted back toward the cocktail.

“What’s the name of this drink?”

“Hm?” Rui tilted his head. His expression brightened immediately.

“I was thinking…” He tapped a finger lightly against the counter. “Maybe I’ll name it after you.” You nearly choked on your drink.

“Rui, that’s embarrassing.”

“But it suits you.”

“How does a cocktail suit me?”

He leaned closer slightly, ruby eyes gleaming mischievously.

“It’s pretty.”

You stared at him and Rui stared back innocently. Then he smiled when he realized your ears were turning red as you shook your head while trying not to smile.

“No naming drinks after me.”

“Fine, fine.” Rui lifted both hands in surrender. “I’ll think of another name eventually.”

The night passed quicker than expected after that. By the time you finally left the bar together, the dormitory halls had grown quieter and Rui insisted on escorting you back. The two of you walked side-by-side under the dim lantern lights connecting the dormitories. Cold night air brushed gently against your skin while your footsteps echoed softly along the stone path. Rui kept conversation easy the entire walk, pointing out strange constellations, complaining about how Lyca kept stealing snacks from Obscuary’s kitchen and telling you stories from previous missions. But every now and then, when you looked at him unexpectedly, you caught Rui already looking at you first. Like his attention kept drifting back without meaning to. When you finally reached your dormitory entrance, Rui stopped.

“Well,” he said softly. “Your carriage has arrived safely.”

You laughed quietly.

“Thank you for tonight.”

“Anytime.”

There was a brief quiet pause afterward, that kind of silence that made you strangely aware of each other. Rui looked beautiful under the moonlight, his pale hair glowed silver-blond-ish, his pale ruby eyes softened at the edges whenever they rested on you. Even the black gloves hiding his cursed hands somehow felt lonely tonight. You spoke before you could overthink it.

“Message me once you get back safely too, okay?”

Rui blinked, clearly surprised. “…Huh?”

“You walked me here, didn’t you?” you said. “So it’s only fair.” For once, Rui genuinely looked caught off guard then a small smile slowly appeared on his face.

“…Yeah,” he murmured. “Okay. I will.”

You waved goodnight before entering your dormitory, but even after the doors closed behind you Rui remained standing there for several seconds, his chest felt warm. Hearing you tell him to message you safely somehow affected him differently because it sounded sincere, it sounded like you truly worry about him. Despite all his smiles and teasing was weaker to genuine affection than anyone realized.

· · · · ──────────── ·✶· ──────────── · · · ·

Fifteen minutes later, your phone buzzed.

You smiled unconsciously while drying your hair after your shower.

Your expression softened slightly, you sat on your bed before typing again.

This time, his reply took longer.

Meanwhile Rui had just finished showering himself. Warm steam still lingered in the bathroom as he towel-dried his blond hair lazily. Dressed now in an oversized shirt and loose black pants, he laid down at his bed.

Rui hated quiet sometimes, quiet gave him time to think. About the curse, death and how his body never truly rested no matter how exhausted his mind became. Usually he distracted himself before thoughts like that settled too deeply, but tonight felt different somehow. His phone buzzed again, he picked it up immediately.

Rui smiled faintly, then another message appeared.

Rui froze for a moment, he simply stared at the screen. Then slowly his cheeks turned pink.

“…Ah.”

A soft laugh escaped him. He covered part of his face with one hand instinctively, shoulders relaxing as warmth bloomed helplessly through his chest. You really had no idea what you were doing to him. No idea how happy he became over the smallest things involving you. A conversation, a mission together, walking beside you at night, receiving messages from you before bed; simple and ordinary things. Yet Rui treasured every single one because he loves you and maybe that love had started quietly long before he realized it himself. Somewhere between shared missions and late-night conversations, between your concern for him and the way you looked at him without fear despite his curse. You treated him gently as though Rui was still someone worth holding close despite the death resting in his hands. His eyes softened while rereading your message.

Then he typed back.

Your reply came almost immediately.

Rui stared at the screen for an embarrassingly long time afterward. Then finally he laughed softly to himself and leaned back against his pillows, his heart felt unbearably light.

“…I’m in trouble,” he murmured affectionately.

A few moments later, Rui glanced toward the notebook resting on his bedside table. The cocktail still needed a name. He grabbed a pen lazily before opening the notebook to a blank page. At first, nothing came to mind, then slowly, his gaze drifted toward your conversation again. The warmth lingering in his chest, the happiness tonight brought him, the strange comfort of walking beneath the moonlight beside you. Beneath all of it the curse he carried endlessly, the Death that never slept, a life unable to tire, a night that never truly ended for Rui. He smiled softly to himself before writing two words carefully onto the page, “Deathless Night.” He stared at the name for a long moment afterward then his smile deepened.

Unmelting Frost

Summary: You are running out of time and the Kyklos inside you is growing stronger, tearing apart your sense of self piece by piece. The only person you trust to stop you is Jin, the one person who refuses to let you go. What follows is a cruel, desperate push and pull between love and survival, you beg him to end it before you become something monstrous, and he fights you every step of the way, refusing to lose you like he’s lost everything else. But love in the end, is not always about saving. Sometimes, it is about letting go.

The sea is too at peace, reflecting the sky like glass as if the world itself has chosen not to look too closely at what stands within it, you.

The water reaches your waist, trembling with each uneven breath you take. Every step forward feels wrong like something inside you is clawing backward, resisting, screaming in a voice that no longer sounds like your own. The Kyklos growing within you, writhes against your will. It does not want to die. But you do, or maybe… you just don’t want this anymore.

Behind you—

“Don’t,”

His shaky voice cuts across the silence. Jin stands at the edge of the sea, silver hair catching the light, icy blue eyes locked onto you like you’re the only thing anchoring him to this world. His chest rises unevenly, breath visible in the cold air though it has nothing to do with the temperature.

“…What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

You don’t turn around because if you do, you might stop and you mustn't. Despite the danger, despite the blood already staining the corner of your mouth from how hard you’ve been biting down to stay conscious.

“I told you,” you say softly, your voice barely carrying over the water. “Don’t follow me.”

“Like hell I’d listen to that.”

He steps forward without hesitation, shoes sinking into the water. He doesn’t even flinch at the cold, he doesn’t care. Not when you’re standing there like this, not when you’re slipping away.

“You think I’m just gonna stand there and watch you throw yourself away?” His voice lowers but there’s something underneath it, something fragile and close to breaking. “Get back here. Now.”

You take another step, the water ripples around you and inside your chest, something twists violently and makes your hand clutches at your heart.

“Jin, stop please… get back.” you choke out.

“Then move.”

“…I can’t.”

The truth settles between you like something cold and immovable and Jin shakes his head slowly.

“…You’re asking me to kill you.”

“I’m asking you to save me.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“It is to me..!”

His hand barely trembles.

“…Do you think I can do that?” he asks, voice quieter now. “After everything?”

You step closer despite the water resisting you.

“You’re the only one I trust.”

“That’s not fair.”

“I know.”

“Then don’t ask me.”

“I wouldn’t, if I had a choice.”

“You once told me… that you’d do anything for me.”

“…Don’t twist my words.”

“I’m not.”

He looks away for a long time and he says nothing. The sea laps gently around you both, as if the world itself is waiting. Jin’s mind is too loud, he sees another face, another loss. Another person slipping through his fingers no matter how tightly he tries to hold on.

“…Why does this keep happening?” he mutters.

“Maybe I’m just not meant to have anyone.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Then what? Everyone I—” He cuts himself off, jaw tightening. “…Everyone I get close to disappears.”

The words cut deeper than anything else.

“You’re not cursed, Jin,” you say gently. “You’re just… human.”

“I don’t feel like it.”

“You are, and you’re strong.”

“Strong people don’t break like this.”

“Everyone does.”

Your thumb brushes beneath his eye, he doesn’t realize when the tears start. You lean up and press a soft kiss against his forehead. Your hands cradle his face, as if memorizing him.

“…I’m scared,” you admit.

“Me too.”

For a moment, everything is quiet again for just the two of you.

Then suddenly your breathing turns ragged. That’s when he sees it, the way your body trembles not just from fear but from restraint. The way your fingers dig into your own skin, like you’re holding something back, the Kyklos have already begun. His expression changes just for a second and cracks. Your body suddenly convulses violently with broken sound rips from your throat as the Kyklos surges upward with brutal force. Pain explodes through your skull, your vision blurs then sharpens wrong, the world suddenly smells different. Salt, flowery, blood and him. Then your breathing stops.

No, it’s not yours. Jin sees it instantly, the way your eyes lose focus, the way your entire posture changes.

“Look at me,” he says.

You try. God, you try but your body no longer listens properly.

“…Run,” you whisper.

Then everything snaps, your body moves fast before you can stop it. Jin barely has time to react before both your hands slam against his throat, forcing him backward violently into the seawater. A strangled gasp tears from him as your fingers tighten around his neck.

Not me, not me, not me—

Inside your own mind, you’re screaming. You can see yourself hurting him. You can feel his pulse beneath your hands and see the shock in his eyes but your body doesn’t stop. The Kyklos snarls through your mouth, twisting your expression into something horrifying.

Jin grabs your wrists instantly, trying to pry you off him, but your strength is monstrous now. His knees hit the water hard and yet he doesn’t strike back, even while choking and while your nails cut into his skin.

“Fight it…” he rasps painfully.

You want to answer him, but instead, your grip tightens harder as tears spill down your face uncontrollably. Inside yourself, you’re begging him.

Please. Please stop me.

Jin sees the tears, the terror in your eyes beneath the emptiness and that destroys him more than the pain and his breathing grows weaker. His gaze shifts to his greatsword partially buried in the sand nearby. The one he brought because some part of him already knew this might happen. Your body forces him to be lower, your fingers crush tighter around his throat and finally Jin understands. There’s no more time, the realization breaks something in his face. Not of fear or hesitation, it’s something worse and that’s acceptance.

“…Damn it,” he whispers hoarsely. His hand reaches backward as his fingers wrap around the hilt of the greatsword and you see it. And inside yourself, you begin sobbing, because you know what will happen next. Jin pulls the blade free still he hesitates even now, even with death tightening around his throat, because it’s you. The person who forced warmth into his frozen life, the one who stayed. The one who looked at him like he was worth loving despite everything ugly inside him.

His hands tremble.

“…Please,” your real voice whispers faintly beneath the monster’s snarling. “Jin…”

His breath breaks, the Kyklos tighten its hold again. Your fingers crush harder around his neck. Jin’s vision darkens.

Then he moves and the blade drives forward, straight through your chest. A broken gasp tears from both of you at the same time. The greatsword pierces your heart cleanly that the force sends your body collapsing backward into him immediately.

Jin catches you with one arm instantly, the other still gripping the sword buried through your chest. One knee against the shallow sea floor, the other raised slightly beneath you. Like a knight kneeling before royalty, like a vow, like devotion. Your back rests weakly against his leg as the blade remains through your heart, Jin holding you upright even now. Even now, he refuses to let you fall. Kyklos lets out one final, distorted scream through your mouth then silence follows, your fingers slowly loosen from his throat one by one, until your hands fall weakly against his chest. Jin gasps for breath, coughing harshly, but he barely notices.

Your eyes change, the dead emptiness disappears and soft light returns to them indicating you’re back.

“…Jin…”

Your voice, your real voice. It nearly destroys him completely, his entire body trembles.

“Don’t talk,” he says immediately, tears already falling freely down his face. “Don’t—”

“It hurts… less now,” you whisper weakly.

“No.”

Blood spills from your lips, Jin’s hand immediately cups your face desperately.

“No, no, stay awake—”

You smile faintly, and that smile is the same one he fell in love with.

“You’re crying.”

A broken sound escapes him- half laugh, half sob. Your trembling hand slowly lifts and Jin grabs it immediately, pressing it against his cheek desperately. As if he can keep you here through touch alone.

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”

“You saved me.”

Your thumb weakly brushes beneath his eye, wiping away tears that won’t stop falling. Sea water crashes endlessly against your bodies. But Jin only sees you, only hears you.

“I was scared,” you admit softly as his face crumples.

“I know.”

“But you came for me anyway.” Another weak smile. “…You always come for me.”

Jin lowers his forehead against yours carefully, desperately like prayer.

“Stay,” he whispers.

Your expression breaks slightly at that.

“I can’t. I’m tired, Jin.”

“Then rest.”

“With you?”

“Yes.”

The answer comes too desperately, you look at him with unbearable tenderness.

“…You still have to live.”

His grip tightens around you instantly.

“Don’t say that.”

“You promised.”

“I lied.”

A soft laugh escapes you despite the blood.

“You’re awful at comforting people.”

A word of silence befalls, only waves followed after. You look out toward the endless sea behind him.

“…I think,” you whisper softly, “I’ll stay here.”

Jin freezes.

“When you feel alone… when things hurt too much…” Your eyes slowly begin dimming again. “…Talk to me.”

His breathing shatters.

“I’ll hear you.”

“No—”

“I promise… you won’t be alone.”

Your fingers weaken against his face.

“But you have to keep living.”

Jin shakes his head slowly, tears fall endlessly from his eyes now. The heir of the Kamurai family, the untouchable Ice King, broke completely in the middle of the sea.

You smile one last time.

“I’ll always stay where you can find me.”

Then your hand slips from his cheek. Your eyes lose their light and the sea takes the silence between you whole.

Time passes… or maybe it doesn’t, Jin doesn’t move. The world feels distant, like he’s underwater. Like he’s the one drowning now.

A white lily in his hand. Crushed slightly from how tightly he’s been holding it.

“…I’m so tired.”

The words slip out without meaning to. He tilts his head back, staring at the empty sky.

“I tried,” he mutters. “I really did.”

But it wasn’t enough, the weight in his chest grows heavier, pulling and dragging him down.

Maybe… it would be easier to stop fighting, to just let it take him too. To sink into that quiet, endless dark where nothing hurts anymore. His fingers loosen, the lily falls into the water and drifts.

“…Maybe I should just—”

No. Something stops him. A faint, lingering warmth, a memory, your voice.

Be strong.

His hand clenches.

“…Damn it.”

His breath shudders. “…You really don’t make this easy, do you?”

The ache doesn’t go away. It probably never will but he doesn’t move toward the water again and won’t follow that pull. Instead, he tightens his hold on you one last time.

“…I’ll live.”

The words feel foreign, heavy.

“…For you.”

And for now that’s enough to keep him from falling, from all the expectations of this world and the responsibilities he has to bear.

#yumejoshi #tokyo debunkers #attempted suicide #yume #tokyo debunker x reader #tkdb #angst #tokyo debunker #tokyo debunker jin #jin kamurai x reader #jin kamurai #tragic love #hurt/no comfort #doomed love #bittersweet #moral dilemmas #mercy killing

Rusted Chains

Summary: A moment between you and Alan turns unsettling when he notices something is deeply wrong. As your condition worsens, you confront an inevitable loss of control and entrust him with a painful responsibility. Forced to choose between holding on or letting go, Alan makes a decision that leaves him carrying the weight of both your trust and your absence. In the aftermath, he’s left alone with grief, questioning whether what he did was truly protection or simply a choice he has to live with.

⌯⌲ Pls listen to Petrified while reading for better experience!

It starts with a laughter that Alan has never heard from you before. Not the kind he’s grown used to, the soft, breathy kind, that only slips out when you forget yourself for a moment. Not the rare fleeting warmth that he secretly memorized.

This laughter is wrong, too loud for the room and too sharp for your throat. It echoes off the walls like something alive, something that doesn’t belong here.

“Stop.” Alan’s voice cuts clean through it.

You didn’t. You’re hunched forward, shoulders shaking, fingers digging into your sleeves as if trying to hold yourself together or tear yourself apart. He can’t tell which one. The sound keeps spilling out of you, almost choking on itself.

Alan closes the distance in two strides and grabs your wrist firmly.

“Enough.” The laughter snaps.

It doesn’t fade, it stops abruptly, like a string pulled too tight and suddenly cut.

Silence rushes in to replace it and your head tilts slowly toward him. Your eyes for a moment don’t recognize him. Alan feels it like a blade sliding under his ribs, then you blink.

“…Alan?”

Your voice is softer now, like something trying to return to its proper place.

But the damage is done, he’s seen it.

“You’re losing control,” he says.

You don’t argue. “I know.”

That’s what makes it worse, you’re not denying it. You’ve already accepted it because somewhere, somehow you’ve moved further ahead in this than he has.

Alan exhales slowly, forcing order into his thoughts, into the situation. “Then we contain it. You stay with me. I’ll handle it.”

That’s how it works, that’s how it always works. Find the problem. Hold it down. Fix it.

You shake your head.

“No.”

The refusal is quiet but absolute, it lands heavier than your laughter ever did.

Alan’s grip tightens slightly. “This isn’t your call to make alone.”

“I’m not making it alone.”

Your gaze lifts to meet him fully now.

“That’s why I came to you.”

There it is, the weight placed into his hands without hesitation, without doubt. Like you’ve already decided what he’s going to do. Alan feels something in his chest twist.

“You shouldn’t,” he mutters.

Your fingers tremble not just from fear, but from something deeper. He can see it now more clearly. The way your movements lag half a second behind your intent. The way your breathing stutters like it’s no longer entirely yours.

“I can’t hold it back anymore,” you continue softly. “It’s not just thoughts. It’s… instincts. Urges. They don’t feel like mine.”

Alan doesn’t like the way you say that, detached. Like you’re already separating yourself from your own body.

“We’ll find a way,” he says immediately.

You almost smile.

“You always say that.”

“And I mean it.”

“That’s why you’re the only one I can ask.”

The room feels smaller and the air is heavier. Like something unseen has already begun closing in. Alan doesn’t respond immediately because he already knows what you’re going to say next. He just doesn’t want to hear it.

“…If I lose control,” you whisper, “I won’t stop.”

Silence. “I’ll hurt people, I might hurt you.”

That’s the one that lands and Alan’s jaw clenches.

“…You won’t.”

“I might.”

No hesitation, no doubt. You trust him enough to tell him the truth, because you trust him enough to ask this of him.

“…So that’s it?” he says, voice lower now. “You’ve decided the only solution is—”

“Yes, I don’t want to become something that looks at you and doesn’t know you,” you say. “I don’t want the last thing you see to be something wearing my face.”

His chest tightens, you step closer, closing the distance he didn’t even realize he had created.

“You said before,” you add quietly, “only enhance your stigma if someone is about to die.”

A faint, sad smile.

“I think this counts.”

Alan lets out a breath that feels like it scrapes his lungs on the way out.

“…You’re asking me to kill you.”

You nod and your eyes don’t waver.

“Yes.”

There’s no fear in them, only trust. That unwavering, unbearable trust. It makes his hands feel heavier than they’ve ever been.

“…You shouldn’t trust me like that,” he says hoarsely.

“But I do. Alan… please.”

That word again. It breaks something in him, deeply. He slowly lifts his hands, like they don’t belong to him anymore. They hover near you, cupping your face one last time, close enough to feel your warmth, far enough that he can still pretend this hasn’t happened yet.

Your breath trembles and then, quietly, the first tear falls. It slips down your cheek without resistance, followed by another, and another. It’s hard to tell what they mean. Whether they’re born from the pain of letting him go, from the weight of seeing him one last time like this… or tears of joy, a relief and gratitude. Maybe even a fragile kind of happiness that, in the end, it’s him who is going to do it.

Alan’s expression falters. Carefully, like even this small motion might break something, his thumb lifts to your cheek. He wipes the tears away, slow and deliberate. Another tear follows and he catches that one too.

For a moment, neither of you speak, there’s only the quiet and the space between breaths.

Then you slightly smile, unsteady and bittersweet.

Alan’s lips part slightly like he doesn’t know how to respond like he’s forgotten how. But then, just barely something shifts. The faintest hint of a smile forms on his own, fragile and unfamiliar, weighed down by everything unsaid.

Neither of you know what comes after this, neither of you can afford to think about it.

So you stay there just for a second longer, holding onto something that’s already slipping away.”

“…I’m not good with words,” he mutters.

You give the smallest huff of breath.

“I know.”

“Then don’t expect me to say this right.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Just stay with me.”

His hands go down and settle gently at your neck.

“I will.”

Your fingers curl around his sleeve, your breath shudders.

“I’m scared.” That almost stops him.

“…Then don’t—”

“I’m not scared of dying,” you interrupt softly.

Your grip tightens.

“I’m scared of what happens if I don’t.”

That’s what makes him move and Alan tightens his hold. Your breath catches immediately, a small involuntary reaction. Your body tenses and after some time then steadies then back again- like your body can’t decide what to do. Your eyes stay on his, still you. Alan memorizes it as he forces himself to, because this is the last time. Your head tilts slightly and is still watching him.

“…Alan,” you whisper.

Your lips curve.

“…Thank you.” Your hand slips and your body slackens.

And just like that, you’re gone.

For a long time, Alan doesn’t move. Not when your weight settles against him, not when the room falls into that same suffocating quiet. Not when the world continues as if nothing has changed. He just kneels there, holding you. Like if he waits long enough, you might breathe again. Like if he refuses to let go, this moment won’t be final. But alas, it is.

“…Second time,” he murmurs.

“Second time I couldn’t protect someone important to me.”

His gaze drifts downward, to your hand. Something white rests between your fingers. It’s a lily.

He stares at it for a long moment before reaching out and taking it. The petals are soft and fragile, still holding their shape despite everything.

His fingers tighten.

“…What is there to believe in…”

The stem bends.

“…when you’re not here anymore?”

The flower collapses in his hand as petals tear. Softness turning into nothing, just like everything else.

The darkness feels more honest, more fitting. Every corner feels wrong without you in it. He sits on the edge not moving as his hands rest loosely in his lap.

The thought loops endlessly. There’s no exhaustion, no rest and just awareness, too much of it.

The darkness presses in, but he doesn’t fight it as he deserves it.

I can't breathe…

His chest tightens. Each breath feels shallow and forced.

My lungs turn to stone.

Alan lowers his head into his hands. There’s no composure left to maintain, no one to protect. no one to reassure, no one trusts him. And the memory of your voice that’s soft, steady, and certain—

“You’re the only one I trust.”

It echoes over and over until it becomes unbearable.

And in the dark alone, Alan finally understands something he’s been avoiding all along. This wasn’t strength, this wasn’t protection. For this was a choice and it’s one he will have to live with far longer than he ever wanted to.

#yumejoshi #tokyo debunkers #yume #tokyo debunker x reader #tkdb #angst #tokyo debunker #alan mido x reader #alan mido #hurt/no comfort #bittersweet #reader insert

Drowned Laughter

Summary: Haru notices the change before anyone else does. It begins quietly. The laughter that once filled the space between you fades, replaced by something heavier, something distant. Still, he tells himself he can fix it, as he always does… but some things cannot be undone. As the line between you and something else begins to blur, a promise is made, one neither of you truly wants, but both understand. And when time finally runs out, Haru is forced to choose between saving everyone… or holding on to the one person who made it worth living in. In the end, he keeps his promise and loses everything.

· · · · ──────────── ·✶· ──────────── · · · · NOTES: ⌯⌲ A Distant Breath by Said The Sky pls listen while reading for the best experience!

The first thing Haru notices is how quiet you’ve become. This quiet is heavier, it lingers in the spaces between his words, swallows the punchline before it can even reach you. It curls into your shoulders and drags your gaze somewhere far away, somewhere he can’t follow.

“Haha! So then Ren just stared at me like I’d committed a crime,” Haru finishes, flashing his usual grin, leaning back like he expects your laugh to fill the room.

You’re staring at your hands, like there’s something wrong with them.

He notices it now, the faint tremor and the way your fingers twitch like they don’t belong to you anymore. Like something else is learning how to move inside your skin.

It starts with the cold. You don’t say it out loud at first, but he notices the way you rub your arms, even in warmth. The way your breath sometimes comes out uneven, like your body forgets how to regulate itself. Then the shadows change, they don’t quite follow you anymore. Sometimes they stretch too far and lag behind and sometimes it… shifts.

Haru’s smile falters.

“…Hey.”

You don’t answer immediately. That too, is new. When you finally look up, your eyes are still yours but there’s something beneath them, something fractured and tired.

“Don’t tell the others yet,” you had said.

He remembers it clearly. The way you stood in the dim light, clutching your arm like it hurt. The way you tried to smile through it, like it was just another inconvenience, like it wasn’t the beginning of the end.

“If something happens…” you start, your voice quieter than usual, “you can’t hesitate.”

His smile fades.

“…I won’t let it get that far.”

“You don’t understand.”

“I do.”

“No, you—”

“I said I do.”

The words come out sharper than he intends, the silence that follows is heavy.

Sleepless nights blur into endless days. Files pile up and his energy drinks stack in the corner, empty cans rattling whenever he moves too fast. He catches and investigates every anomaly, every trace, and every possibility.

There has to be a way. There has to be.

He refuses to believe that this is something he can’t solve. But the signs worsen, you start forgetting things. Small things at first, then bigger ones and then… him.

Just for a second enough to make his chest tighten in a way he doesn’t know how to joke away.

“Haru.”

Your voice is steadier today, that scares him more than anything. You’re sitting across from him, hands folded neatly in your lap. It’s too still and he doesn’t like it.

“Let’s now make a deal.”

He laughs, leaning back in his chair.

“Ooh, serious. Should I be worried?”

“Yes.”

The word lands without hesitation and his smile falters again.

“…Okay,” he says more quietly. “What kind of deal?”

“If I lose control soon… you’ll stop it here.”

Your hand presses weakly against your chest. Right over your heart and his gaze drops to it.

And something inside him snaps. He stares at you. Waiting for the punchline, but it doesn’t come.

“…Not funny,” he mutters.

“I’m serious.”

“Yeah, well—I’m not agreeing to that.”

“Haru please, we already talked about this before...”

The word breaks something in him.

“I’ll find a way,” he insists, leaning forward now, his voice sharper. “That’s what I do, right? I will find a solution and fix things.”

Your expression had softened, something closer to sadness.

“…You can’t fix everything.”

“Just watch me.”

The day comes faster than he’s ready for. The sky is dark or maybe that’s just how it feels. You’re standing in front of him, breathing unevenly, your body trembling from something fighting to take over.

Your eyes, they’re not fully yours anymore.

“Haru…!”

You choke on his name and he freezes for a split second, just long enough to see it. The shift, the Kyklos inside you clawing its way out.

“You said…” you gasp, your voice breaking apart, distorting at the edges. “You said- you’d stop me…”

His hands shake and he hates that. He never shakes.

“…Don’t,” he whispers.

“I can’t hold it!”

You stagger forward then back, like your body doesn’t know which direction to choose, like it’s already splitting.

“Haru please!”

It’s late… too late. Everything feels unreal. You’re standing by the window, moonlight spilling across your figure.

For a second, you look normal.

“…Hey,” he says softly.

You turn and for a moment, relief floods him. He can still see it's you. It’s you.

All of a sudden, you stagger. Your hand grips your chest, nails digging into fabric like you’re trying to hold something in.

“Ha—”

Your voice fractures, something underneath it growls. His body moves before his mind catches up. He’s at your side instantly, grabbing your shoulders to steady you.

“Hey, hey—it’s okay, I’ve got you—”

“No—!”

You shove him back harder than you ever have. He stumbles, eyes widening.

“Don’t come any closer—!”

Your body trembles violently now, breathing is erratic, and your shadow is no longer yours. It writhes, expands and begins to separate.

“…It’s starting,” you choke out, your voice layered now, yours and something else.

“Haru… listen…”

He’s already reaching into his coat and already pulling the knife free. He doesn’t remember deciding to bring it but maybe some part of him knew.

“…No,” he mutters under his breath. “No, no, no I can still—there’s still time—”

“There isn’t.”

You look at him and despite everything, you’re smiling. Tears cling to your lashes, but your expression is calm.

“…You promised.”

“I didn’t—!”

“You did.”

Your voice softens. “…In your own way.”

The thing inside you surges. Your body jerks violently. A distorted sound tears from your throat, half scream and half something inhuman.

The air around you shifts. If it breaks free, if it fully manifests… it won’t just be you. It’ll be everything.

“Haru—!” you gasp, your voice slipping away. “Now—!”

He freezes for a second.

He sees it all.

Every laugh, every shared moment. Every time you stood beside him, matching his pace, understanding him in ways no one else ever did. The one person who didn’t get left behind, the one person who stayed and the one person he—

“…I can’t,” he whispers.

“You can.”

Your hand lifts weakly and shakes. It presses against the blade in his grip, guiding it.

“…Please.”

Your forehead rests against his.

“…Before it takes me away from you.”

His vision blurs. He hates that he’s hesitating, hates that he’s failing.

“I’m supposed to protect you,” he chokes out.

“You are.”

Your smile is softer now, fading.

“…This is how.”

“…Stay with me,” he whispers.

“I will.”

A kind lie you blurted out. The blade drives forward, straight and precise. Right where your hand guided it through your heart, your body stiffened as broken breath escaped your lips. The tension releases, the writhing shadow stills and the distortion fades. The thing inside you stops, Haru’s grip tightens around the knife, he doesn’t pull it out. He can’t.

You slump against him, your weight is too familiar.

“…Haru…” you murmur faintly.

“I’m here,” he says immediately, his voice trembling despite everything. “I’m right here—just—just stay with me, okay? Just—”

“It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

He swallows hard.

Your fingers weakly clutch his sleeve.

“…Thank you.”

He shakes his head frantically and you’re already fading. Your gaze softens and your breathing slows.

“…You always… fix things…”

“…Not this time,” he whispers.

You smile and it’s the most beautiful, heartbreaking thing he’s ever seen.

“…You did.”

Your hand slips, your body goes still. And just like that, you’re gone.

The knife falls from his grasp with a dull sound. Haru doesn’t react and just stares at you waiting for something, but there’s nothing. No breath, no movement at all.

“…That wasn’t fixing,” he mutters hollowly.

His voice doesn’t sound like his own.

“…That was… ending.”

The world feels quieter now, like something important has been erased. In his hand, a white lily rests out of nowhere, delicate, glowing and untainted.

“…Resurrection,” he murmurs, staring at it.

“…Hope.”

His grip tightens.

“…Life.”

The words feel meaningless and empty.

“…Yeah. Right.”

His fingers loosen, the white lily slips from his grasp, falling. Vanishing into the darkness below, just like you did. Haru lets out a soft laugh and it echoes lightly, but there’s no one left to hear it.

#yumejoshi #tokyo debunkers #yume #tokyo debunker x reader #tkdb #angst #tokyo debunker #tokyo debunker haru #haru sagara x reader #bittersweet #hurt/no comfort #haru sagara #tragedy #angst and tragedy

Sunken Sandcastle

NOTES: ⌯⌲ Song inspo: Red Flag by Said the Sky (pls listen while you read!) Summary: Taiga has seen countless futures where you die and none where you survive. Still, he tried to change it again and again, through timelines that collapsed like sandcastles. Now the curse inside you is finally winning. Tonight feels different, the loop might not return. All that remains between you is one last conversation, a trembling gun, and a white lily left behind like a promise that hope once existed.

The room was too quiet, it felt like the moment before a storm breaks. The air hung heavy and unmoving, pressing down on your lungs each time you breathed.

You sat on the edge of the small bed in the dimly lit room, hands folded loosely in your lap, waiting.

Your fingers trembled slightly, though you weren’t sure if it was fear anymore.

Perhaps it was simply the Kyklos. The thing inside you pulsed faintly beneath your skin, like a second heartbeat that didn’t belong to you. Every now and then, a sharp wave of heat crawled through your veins, followed by a dizzying cold.

You lowered your gaze to the floor.

A memory flickered across your mind. On a train, cold floors. The rumble of wheels against endless tracks. And the smell of blood.

You squeezed your eyes shut, that memory was one of many Taiga had finally confessed to you. The loops, the deaths.

How many times he had watched you die. How many times he had tried to save you.

You hadn’t known whether to laugh or cry when he told you.

Mostly… you just felt tired.

Your gaze drifted to the door. You wondered what he was doing out there.

Was he hesitating? Pacing? Arguing with Romeo?

Or maybe he was sitting somewhere alone with that empty look in his eyes.

The one he thought you never noticed.

Your lips curved faintly.

You could still hear his voice from earlier.

“Every time you die, the world resets.”

He looked so angry when he said it.

Not at you, but at himself. You had never seen Taiga like that before.

The reckless guy he is who pointed loaded guns at his own subordinates… the ghoul who laughed while gambling with people’s lives… the man who always looked bored of everything.

That Taiga had looked like he was about to break. And for the first time, you understood why.

Your body shuddered suddenly as the Kyklos pulsed again, this time harder.

Your nails dug slightly into your palms.

“Not yet,” you whispered under your breath.

Your reflection in the cracked mirror across the room stared back at you.

Your pupils looked darker now. Your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. You exhaled slowly.

“…Hurry up, Taiga.”

You hear footsteps coming and you lift your head.

The footsteps stopped just outside the door.

Silence stretched between you and the hallway and the door creaked open.

He looked terrible.

Taiga leaned against the doorway like someone who hadn’t slept in weeks. His crimson hair was messy, shadows pooled beneath his eyes, and the usual lazy smirk on his lips was nowhere to be found.

He stepped inside as the door closed behind him.

Neither of you spoke for a moment.

You tilted your head slightly.

“…You look like hell.”

Taiga snorted faintly.

“Funny. I was gonna say the same thing.”

His voice sounded hoarse. Tired and older than it should have been.

He didn’t come closer right away. Instead, he stood a few feet away, staring at you like you were something fragile that might disappear if he blinked.

You swung your legs slightly off the bed.

“…Kitty cat.”

You hummed softly.

Taiga slowly walked forward. Each step looked heavier than the last.

When he stopped in front of you, you could see the faint tremor in his hand.

Your gaze dropped. The gun was there.

You looked back up at him and you softly smiled.

“Good,” you murmured.

“You brought it.”

His expression darkened immediately.

“Don’t say it like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re happy about it.”

You shrugged slightly.

“I’m relieved.”

Taiga ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

“You’re unbelievable.”

Another memory, another loop. Another version of this moment.

You wondered how many times he had stood exactly where he was now.

How many times he had tried to change the outcome.

Your chest tightened slightly.

“…Taiga.”

He didn’t answer.

He was staring at the floor.

Your voice softened.

“You know this is the only way.”

His grip on the gun tightened.

“I could still try something else.”

“No.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.”

The Kyklos stirred again, this time it made your vision blur for a moment.

“Taiga.”

He finally looked at you again. His eyes were sharp, desperately searching.

You smiled gently.

“You told me about the loops, remember?”

He said nothing.

“You’ve already tried everything.”

Your voice dropped to a whisper.

“You said it yourself.”

Your gaze met his.

“We’re out of time.”

For a moment, Taiga looked furious.

Like he wanted to argue, he wanted to throw the gun across the room and refuse.

But slowly…the anger drained away.

Leaving only exhaustion.

“…You trust me that much?” he asked quietly.

Your answer came without hesitation.

“Yes.”

His eyes widened slightly.

Another wave of pain rippled through your body, stronger this time. Your breath hitched and Taiga noticed immediately.

“…How long?”

You glanced down at your hands. The veins along your wrist looked darker now.

“Not long.”

His expression hardened.

Your legs wobbled slightly, but you managed to walk the few steps toward him.

Now you were close enough to see every detail in his face.

The dark circles beneath his eyes, the quiet panic he was trying to hide.

Your hand lifted gently to his cheek. Taiga froze.

“You tried really hard,” you whispered.

His jaw clenched.

“Not hard enough.”

“Hundreds of timelines isn’t enough?”

His eyes flickered again.

“…Don’t.”

“You stayed every time.”

Your thumb brushed lightly beneath his eye.

“You watched me die over and over.”

His voice cracked.

“Stop.”

“You never gave up.”

Taiga grabbed your wrist suddenly, just enough to stop you.

His voice came out strained.

“Don’t thank me.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m about to—”

His words broke, the room went silent again.

You gently pulled your hand free and stepped back, giving him space.

“Go on,” you said softly.

The Kyklos pulsed violently beneath your skin.

Your heartbeat felt wrong now and you smiled faintly.

“Before I change my mind.”

Taiga lifted the gun slowly, as his hand trembled and the barrel pointed toward you.

You didn’t move, you just looked at him.

Calm and trusting, the way you always had.

“…Kitty cat,” he whispered.

His eyes glistened faintly.

“…I’m sorry.”

You shook your head.

“No, you’re saving me.”

The gunshot echoed through the quiet room, your body collapsed backward and Taiga caught you instantly. Blood soaked into his chest as he lowered to his knees with you in his arms.

Your breathing came out shallow, but your lips curved into a small smile.

Your voice was barely audible and you closed your eyes slowly.

“Thank you… Taiga.”

…

Your body went still and the room fell silent. Taiga held you there for a long time. Waiting for the world to rewind. For time to snap back to the beginning, like it always did.

Seconds passed, then minutes. Nothing changed. The room remained quiet, the world kept moving forward. For the world to snap back, for the room to blur, for the familiar pull of time dragging him backward to the beginning.

Back to the train, to the mission, to the moment before everything went wrong. Back to you alive.

But nothing came, the room stayed exactly the same.

The dim light flickered softly overhead. The cracked mirror reflected the same scene: a man on the floor holding someone who would never wake again.

Taiga’s fingers tightened slightly around your sleeve.

“…C’mon,” he muttered under his breath.

His voice sounded hollow.

“This is the part where it resets.”

Nothing happened, the future remained silent. And that silence terrified him more than any loop ever had.

His gaze slowly drifted to the small table near the window. Something white rested there.

A flower.

Taiga stared at it for a long time before he remembered.

You had picked it earlier.

A white lily.

"White lilies mean resurrection… hope… life."

Taiga had scoffed.

“Sounds like a scam flower.”

Now the flower sat untouched on the table- bright, pure, alive.

Taiga slowly shifted your body, laying you carefully on the bed. His movements were strangely gentle for someone known to shove loaded guns into people’s faces without hesitation.

Your hair spread softly across the pillow, your expression was peaceful. Taiga stared at you for a long moment before finally standing. His legs felt heavier than they should have, like gravity had suddenly doubled.

Step by step, he walked toward the table.

He picked the white lily up. The petals were soft between his fingers, fragile and hopeful. The kind of flower meant for beginnings, not endings.

Taiga stared at it for a long time.

Then he laughed.

“…Resurrection, huh?”

His eyes drifted back to you.

You weren’t moving, weren’t breathing. The world hadn’t reset, the future hadn’t rewritten itself. For the first time in countless timelines, he had truly lost.

His hand trembled slightly.

“…You were supposed to come back.”

The lily slipped between his fingers as it fell slowly.

White petals spinning as it dropped, it landed beside the bed near your hand.

A single petal brushed against your fingers. Taiga didn’t pick it back up, he just stood there looking tired and hollow. Like someone who had been walking down a dark road for far too long and finally realized there was no destination waiting at the end.

“…Guess the game’s over,” he murmured quietly.

For so long, he had believed everything was under control. Every timeline had been another attempt. Another careful move in a game only he knew was being played. He had watched the future like a gambler studying a rigged deck, memorizing every outcome, every mistake, every moment that led to your death. Each loop had been something he rebuilt, a fragile structure made of tiny adjustments. A word said differently, a mission finished earlier, a step taken a second faster.

Little by little, he stacked them together. Like building a sandcastle grain by grain. Carefully and patiently, believing that if he built it high and strong enough, the tide would finally stop reaching you.

But now, the tide has finally come in. Everything he had built through hundreds of timelines. Every plan, every calculation, every desperate attempt to change fate collapsed all at once. Like a sunken sandcastle on the shore, swallowed by the sea.

Taiga exhaled slowly, the sound hollow in the quiet room.

“…So that’s it.”

His voice barely rose above a whisper. No future awaits them now. Only the ruins of the one he had tried so desperately to protect.

#yumejoshi #tokyo debunkers #yume #tokyo debunker x reader #tkdb #angst #tokyo debunker #hoshibami taiga #taiga hoshibami x reader #taiga x reader #taiga hoshibami #bittersweet fic #hurt/no comfort

Voiceless Scream

NOTE: ⌯⌲ Pls listen to this song while you read! (Privilege to be Unseen by Said the Sky)

Summary: You trusted Subaru more than anyone. So when the monster inside you began to grow, you asked him to be the one to stop you. Now, standing before you, Subaru must fulfill the one promise he never wanted to keep.

The night was too quiet. This silence was suffocating, thick with the scent of iron and lilies.

A single white lily rested in Subaru Kagami’s gloved hand. Its petals were untouched, pristine against the darkness.

White lilies meant resurrection, hope, and life.

A cruel irony.

Subaru stared down at it, eyes trembling faintly. He inhaled slowly, then exhaled.

He had performed on stages since childhood. Under bright lights. Before thousands of watching eyes.

Kabuki demanded perfection. Perfect posture, perfect voice, perfect emotions.

But this… this was the one role Subaru wished he never had to perform.

You stood across from him.

The wind tugged gently at your clothes, brushing stray strands of hair across your face. You looked exhausted, more exhausted than he had ever seen you.

Yet your smile remained soft. It was the same smile you always gave him.

The same one that made his chest ache.

Subaru forced his voice steady.

“…I’m sorry.”

The apology came out automatically, like breathing.

You chuckled quietly.

“You always apologize first.”

He winced.

Of course you noticed. You always noticed everything about him.

The wind shifted, and Subaru’s eyes flickered to your hands.

They trembled slightly.

Black veins had begun creeping faintly beneath your skin.

The late stages of turning into a Kyklos. A monster that could no longer remember who they once were.

You clenched your fist, trying to stop the shaking.

But Subaru had already seen it.

“…It’s progressing faster,” he whispered.

You looked away toward the dark horizon.

“I know.”

Silence stretched between you. Heavy and painful. Like the air before rain.

Time did not slow down, not for tragedies like this. Not for people like you.

Subaru looked at you carefully, who had seen through every mask he wore.

“You’re scared,” he said softly.

You blinked in surprise.

“…You noticed?”

His lips curved into a faint smile.

“You’re terrible at hiding things.”

You laughed. A weak sound, but real.

“And you’re terrible at showing them.”

Subaru froze because you were right.

Even now, even as his chest felt like it was collapsing.

He forced his expression to be calm and gentle, like always.

You stepped closer.

And gently reached up to touch his cheek.

His breath caught.

“You’re hurting,” you whispered.

Subaru looked away immediately.

“I’m fine.”

A lie, a terrible one.

You sighed softly.

“You really don’t have to act anymore.”

The words struck deeper than any blade.

He remembered something you told him once.

Back when the two of you sat on the rooftop watching the sunset.

You had looked at him seriously and said:

“You don’t have to hide your feelings anymore nor control yourself to not want more. You are wise, you know what’s right and wrong. Don’t constrain yourself and live without regrets while you still can.”

At the time, he laughed awkwardly.

But now, those words echoed painfully in his chest.

Your breathing suddenly faltered.

A sharp tremor ran through your body.

Subaru’s eyes widened.

“—!”

You staggered slightly before catching yourself.

Black veins spread further along your arm.

Your pupils flickered unnaturally. Your voice shook.

“…Subaru.”

He stepped forward immediately.

“I’m here.”

Your hand grabbed his sleeve, tight and desperate.

“You promised, remember?”

His heart stopped. Of course he remembered the request you made days ago.

When they confirmed the corruption spreading inside you.

You had looked him straight in the eye and said:

“If I start losing myself… I want you to stop me.”

Subaru had refused. Over and over again.

But you insisted because you trusted him, more than anyone else.

You smiled weakly now.

“It’s almost time.”

His chest felt like it was tearing apart.

“No.”

Your voice was gentle but firm.

“Subaru.”

He shook his head desperately.

“No.”

The lily trembled in his hand.

“I’m running out of time.”

Your words were quiet but they echoed louder than thunder.

Subaru’s stigma activated unintentionally when his hand brushed your arm.

And suddenly, memories flooded his mind.

Your laughter in the cafeteria.

Your hand grabbing his sleeve when you dragged him somewhere new.

Your voice calling his name.

Your warmth beside him during quiet nights.

All the traces you left behind.

Like satellites orbiting his heart.

Subaru’s knees almost gave out.

Your smile softened.

Tears blurred his vision.

You gently took the white lily from his hand.

Its petals glowed faintly in the moonlight.

“You brought this?”

Subaru nodded weakly.

“It symbolizes resurrection.”

You smiled sadly.

“Then maybe… someday…”

Your voice trailed off. Neither of you finished the sentence.

The veins spread further up your neck.

Your body jerked again, your eyes flickered violently.

You gasped.

“Subaru, now.”

His hand trembled as he drew the blade from his side.

The blade reflected your face. Your gentle smile. No fear, only trust. And Subaru’s voice cracked.

“I’m sorry.”

He always apologized, even now.

You reached forward and placed your hand over his, steadying it.

“Thank you.”

His vision shattered completely.

“Don’t thank me.”

You laughed softly.

“See? You’re still trying to hide it.”

The wind grew stronger.

Petals of the lilies scattered around you.

White against the dark, like falling snow.

Subaru finally looked directly into your eyes.

And for the first time, he didn’t hide his feelings.

Pain, fear, love. All of it.

You smiled gently.

“Good.”

A tear slid down Subaru’s cheek.

The blade moved, quick and precise.

Just like the final movement of a kabuki performance.

Your body collapsed into his arms and warm blood stained the white lily petals.

Subaru caught you before you hit the ground, as his hands trembled violently.

Your breathing slowed, but your smile remained.

“Thank you…”

Your voice was barely a whisper.

“Subaru.”

Your hand slipped from his sleeve and the night fell silent.

Subaru stayed there for a long time, holding you.

The rain finally began to fall. Like the world itself was mourning.

The lily rested beside you. Its petals are soaked in crimson. Yet still white and beautiful, still alive.

Subaru pressed his forehead against yours.

Even if everything was already gone, the traces you left behind would never disappear.

#yumejoshi #tokyo debunkers #yume #tokyo debunker x reader #tkdb #angst #subaru kagami #subaru x reader #subaru kagami x reader #reader insert #hurt/no comfort #angst and tragedy #tragedy #character death #emotional repression #regret

Pinky Promise

⌯⌲ Inspo Song: All My Love by Coldplay (Pls listen while you read!) Summary: Valentine’s Day with Haku turns into a tender memory as teasing smiles, sweet chocolates, and soft confessions lead to a simple yet heartfelt vow, a pinky promise sealing the love you share and the future you hope to walk together.

Valentine’s Day arrived and the Academy was painted in warm shades of pink, crimson, and all shades of red. Ribbons tied around railings, chocolates exchanged in shy laughter, confessions drifting through the corridors like wishes. Yet amid the sweetness and noise, your thoughts lingered somewhere quieter.

They lingered with him.

You had not expected him to care about Valentine’s Day. Haku, after all, treated most occasions with a smile and a teasing remark. So when you received his message: “Meet me after sunset. Don’t be late.”. Curiosity tangled with nervous excitement.

And now standing outside the quiet veranda, you waited.

Then—

“Waiting for someone?”

His voice slid into the silence like silk.

You turned, heart skipping.

Haku stood behind you, dressed in deep crimson, a tailored suit that made him look almost unreal. Gold accents glimmered on his suit, his ribbon earrings swayed gently, and his sharp, catlike eyes watched you with quiet amusement.

But there was something different tonight.

Less teasing, more… tender.

“You’re staring,” he murmured, tilting his head. “Is it that strange seeing me dressed properly?”

“I just-” You faltered, heat blooming in your cheeks. “You look… really nice.”

His lips curved, that familiar devilish charm flickering alive.

“Careful,” he teased softly. “Say things like that and I might start thinking you like me.”

You huffed, trying to look away, but he stepped closer, closing the distance before you could retreat.

“I wore it for you,” Haku said.

The playfulness faded.

Sincerity remained.

Your chest tightened.

Haku rarely spoke plainly about his feelings. He hid affection behind teasing touches, sudden scares, quiet acts of care like brushing leaves from your hair, walking you back when nights felt heavy, appearing whenever fear brushed too close.

But now his gaze held no mask.

“Come,” he said gently, offering his hand.

You took it.

He led you inside a small room lit only by candles and lanterns. The space was simple yet warm: soft cushions, scattered petals, a small table with sweets and tea. You blinked in surprise.

“You did all this…?”

“Zenji helped with the lights,” Haku admitted. “Subaru insisted on the flowers. I transported stuff and mostly supervised…”

You laughed quietly.

“That sounds like you.”

He smiled softer now, almost shy.

“I wanted today to be peaceful,” he said. “No duties, just us.”

The words wrapped around your heart like warmth.

You sat together, sharing tea and chocolates, conversation flowing easily: memories of chaotic missions, tea time afternoons, silly arguments that ended in laughter. Every moment felt like turning pages of a story you had unknowingly been writing together.

Low and sunshine. Snow and warmth.

Every season. Every corner of the sky.

Haku watched you as you spoke, gaze gentle and unwavering, as if memorizing each expression.

“You know,” he said after a pause, “I’ve seen many things others can’t. Spirits trapped in regret. Feelings left behind. Promises that never reached their end.”

His fingers brushed yours.

“That used to scare me.”

Your voice softened. “Does it still?”

He shook his head.

“No. Because of you.”

Your breath caught.

“You stayed,” Haku continued quietly. “Through days and nights, through my moods, through things I never explained properly.” His smile wavered. “Even when I pushed you away with jokes.”

You squeezed his hand.

“I stayed because I wanted to.”

Silence settled. Haku’s confession lingered in the air, gentle and trembling between you.

And suddenly, your own nervousness returned.

“Oh,” you murmured, fumbling slightly with your bag. “I… actually have something too.”

Haku blinked, curiosity flickering across his sharp eyes.

“For me?”

You nodded, cheeks warming as you pulled out a small, carefully wrapped box. Soft pink paper, tied with a ribbon that took you far too long to perfect. The corners were slightly uneven, proof of how many times you had redone it.

“I made them,” you admitted, voice shy. “Well… mostly. Subaru helped when I almost burned the kitchen.”

Haku laughed quietly, the sound warm and fond.

“I wish I had seen that.”

“Absolutely not,” you muttered, but your smile betrayed you. Then, gathering courage, you held the box out to him. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Haku.”

For once, he didn’t tease you.

He accepted the box with surprising care, as if it were fragile glass instead of chocolate. His fingers brushed yours briefly, a touch soft enough to make your heartbeat stumble.

“You made these… for me,” he repeated, almost to himself.

There was something vulnerable in his expression now. A quiet astonishment, like someone unused to receiving something made with love.

Haku slowly untied the ribbon, opening the box.

Inside lay imperfect chocolates, some heart-shaped, some slightly crooked, one with a cracked edge you had tried desperately to fix. But each one carried a warmth no store-bought gift could imitate.

He stared for a moment.

Then smiled.

Not his usual playful grin.

“They’re beautiful,” he said.

“They’re lumpy,” you corrected.

“That too.” His eyes softened as he picked one up. “But they’re yours.”

He took a bite, and you watched anxiously, hands clasped together.

“Well?” you asked.

Haku hummed thoughtfully, clearly dragging out the suspense just to make you squirm. Then he leaned closer, voice dropping into a teasing whisper.

“Sweet,” he murmured. “A little messy. And somehow addictive.” His gaze met yours, “Just like you.”

Your face burned.

“That’s not a proper review!”

“It’s the only one that matters.”

Before you could protest, Haku gently took another chocolate and held it toward you.

“Share with me,” he said.

The gesture felt intimate in a way that made your chest ache. You leaned forward, taking a small bite from his fingers, laughter and warmth mingling in the quiet room.

Chocolate sweetness melted on your tongue.

But the warmth in your chest was sweeter.

Haku closed the box carefully, holding it close to his heart for a brief moment before setting it aside.

“Thank you,” he said softly. “I’ll treasure these. Even the cracked ones.”

“They’re not that bad-”

“They’re perfect,” he interrupted gently. “Because you made them.”

The sincerity in his voice lingered and it was that warmth, that quiet gratitude, that led into his confession… and something followed. “I don’t have a grand confession,” he murmured. “I’m not good at dramatic speeches.” His eyes met yours, earnest and bright. “But I do know this.”

He lifted his hand, extending his pinky.

“I want to keep walking beside you. Whether days are bright or heavy. Whether you laugh or cry. Whether the world feels warm… or unbearably cold.”

Your vision blurred.

“Haku…”

He smiled gently.

“You have all my love. It doesn’t change with weather or time. It doesn’t fade when things hurt. It just… stays.” His voice softened to a whisper. “So stay with me too. For now, for always. However long forever allows.”

Your hands trembled as you hooked your pinky with his.

“I promise,” you whispered.

The moment felt small - childish, even.

Yet sacred. A vow stitched in quiet devotion.

Haku’s expression softened with relief, as if a weight he had carried alone finally eased.

“Good,” he murmured. “Because I don’t plan on letting you go.”

You laughed through tears.

“That sounds like a threat.”

“It is,” he teased, leaning closer. “A very affectionate one.”

He brushed his forehead against yours, warmth spreading through the space between breaths.

“If you cry,” he whispered, “I’ll be there. If you fall, I’ll catch you. If you’re scared, I’ll hold your hand until the fear disappears.”

His thumb traced the promise sealed between your pinkies.

“And if someday I can’t see you,” he added softly, “I’ll still feel you. Like a lingering warmth. Like a spirit that never leaves.”

Your heart swelled, overflowing with a love that felt both gentle and unbreakable.

You leaned into him, and Haku wrapped his arms around you, embracing warmth. No teasing now, no playful scares.

Just steady devotion, enduring love and gratitude for every moment shared.

Your pinkies remained intertwined, a fragile thread tying your hearts together across every season yet to come.

An unwavering promise, forever.

#yumejoshi #tokyo debunkers #yume #tokyo debunker x reader #tkdb #fluff #romance #romantic fluff #valentines day #haku kusanagi x reader #tokyo debunker haku

Pale Heart

⌯⌲ Inspo song: Drowning by Said the Sky (Pls listen while you read!)

Summary: Edward is forced to face an impossible choice when the person he cares for most asks him for a final act of mercy. As a creeping transformation threatens to erase her humanity, the two spend one last night confronting love, fear, and the meaning of identity. Torn between selfish hope and painful acceptance, he must decide whether eternity is worth more than her final wish and live with the silence that follows.

Obscuary’s night had always felt endless, but tonight it pressed in closer than usual, heavy and suffocating. The curtains hung motionless. Even the air seemed to hold its breath.

Edward watched you from across the room, his crimson gaze fixed and unblinking. He had appeared beside you so many times without warning, a teasing smile, a lazy greeting, a playful remark that made you roll your eyes. He had always liked surprising you. Tonight, he had come quietly. No jokes. No sudden grin.

Just silence.

You sat on the edge of his bed, hands folded in your lap to keep them from trembling. The familiar softness of the mattress beneath you felt distant, like a memory already fading. You had spent countless afternoons here listening to Edward ramble about centuries-old cities, about the sea that bordered his childhood home, about places that no longer existed the way he remembered them. He would lie back with one arm behind his head, voice drifting lazily as if time itself were a trivial thing.

But time is not trivial now.

Time is running out.

The monster inside you stirred again, a slow grinding presence that scraped against your thoughts. You inhaled sharply. Edward noticed immediately.

His expression tightened. He crossed the room in a single smooth step and knelt in front of you, bringing himself to your eye level. His gloved hand hovered near yours, hesitant, as if afraid you might shatter at his touch.

“It’s getting worse,” he said quietly.

It wasn’t a question.

You nodded. Speaking felt difficult, like forcing words through water. Each day the thing inside you grew louder, more insistent. It whispered of release, of becoming something vast and terrible. And with every whisper, your sense of self thinned.

Edward’s jaw clenched. For a moment, his composure cracked, and you glimpsed the storm beneath, fear, anger, and a grief he had not yet allowed himself to name.

“There is still a way,” he said, voice low and urgent. “You can stay. Become a vampire. Live with me. I can protect you.”

He said it like a vow. Like a plea.

You looked at him, at the centuries etched invisibly into his tired eyes. He had seen empires rise and fall. He had wandered the world searching for something he never quite found. And somewhere along the way, he had found you.

A warmth spread through your chest at the thought, bittersweet and aching.

“I don’t want to lose my humanity,” you whispered. “If I change… I won’t be me anymore.”

Edward’s gaze softened, and he reached up at last, cupping your cheek with a tenderness that made your breath hitch. His thumb brushed beneath your eye, tracing a path he must have memorized a hundred times.

“You would still be you,” he insisted, though the uncertainty in his voice betrayed him. “You would just… continue.”

“Continue as something else.”

The words hung between you. Edward’s hand trembled. He closed his eyes briefly, as if steadying himself against an unseen tide.

He had lost people before. He carried their ghosts quietly, tucked into the corners of his long memory. You reminded him of one in particular, a woman from centuries past whose laughter still echoed faintly in his mind. He had never told you her name. Some memories were too fragile to speak aloud.

He had sworn he would not watch another person he cared for slip away.

And yet here you were, asking him to do exactly that.

The monster surged again, sharper this time. A wave of disorientation washed over you. The room tilted. Edward caught you before you could fall, his arms wrapping around you with instinctive care. You clung to him, fingers curling into the fabric of his uniform.

“I’m scared,” you admitted, voice barely audible.

Edward held you tighter. “I know.”

For a moment, you allowed yourself to imagine accepting his offer, an endless night by his side, wandering through centuries together. You pictured quiet mornings in his room, teasing conversations, the lazy comfort of simply existing with him.

The image was beautiful.

And wrong.

You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. “Please,” you said softly. “Before I’m gone.”

The meaning was clear. Edward’s breath caught. He searched your face desperately, as if hoping to find hesitation, some hidden desire to be persuaded. But your expression was steady, resolute despite the fear shimmering beneath it.

You had already made your choice.

Edward felt something inside him fracture. He stood frozen on the edge of the inevitable, knowing that whatever he did next would haunt him for the rest of his endless life. He wanted to be strong. He wanted to be brave. He wanted to save you.

But the only way to save you now was to let you go.

He drew you into one final embrace. It was slow and deliberate, his arms encircling you as if to shield you from the world. You rested your head against his chest, listening to the quiet stillness there. In that silence, you found peace.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again, the words breaking against your hair.

“Don’t be,” you murmured. “You’re giving me what I asked for.”

The monster rose in a final, desperate swell. Edward felt it coil beneath your skin, felt the moment slipping through his fingers. He held you steady. His touch was gentle and reverent, an act of love disguised as an ending.

When it was over, the room fell utterly still.

Edward remained motionless, cradling you as the tension left your body. Your features softened, the struggle erased. You looked up at him through fading vision and offered a small, radiant smile.

“Thank.. you,” you breathed.

The words pierced him deeper than any blade ever could. He tried to answer, but his voice failed. All he could do was watch as your eyes closed, your expression serene.

For a long time, he did not move.

The night stretched on, indifferent and eternal. Edward sat there with you in his arms, memories rising unbidden, your laughter echoing through the corridors of Obscuary, your mock scolding when he skipped his duties, the warmth of your presence beside him on quiet evenings. Each memory was a fragile light flickering against the vast darkness of his grief.

He felt suspended in a strange stillness. He knew this was the end. He understood it with perfect clarity. And yet his heart refused to accept it. It lingered in the space between moments, clinging to the echo of your voice.

Eventually, he pressed a trembling kiss to your forehead. It was a silent promise, a farewell he could not put into words. He closed his eyes and allowed the weight of centuries to settle over him once more.

Edward had always believed himself tired of the world. Detached and unmoved.

Now he understood how wrong he had been.

He stayed there with you for a while longer, wrapped in the quiet spiral of sorrow and love, letting the night bear witness to the fragile, beautiful life you had entrusted to him. And though eternity stretched endlessly before him, he knew that this moment, this pale aching heart you left behind would remain with him forever.

#angst #yumejoshi #tokyo debunkers #yume #tokyo debunker x reader #tkdb #angst and tragedy #tragedy #angst and hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort(but mostly hurt)#emotional angst #bittersweet ending #love and loss #tokyo debunker edward #edward hart x reader

Extinguished Flame

⌯⌲ Inspo song: Spiral by Said the Sky (pls listen while reading!)

Summary: Yuri is forced to confront the one outcome he has always feared: losing a patient. When an irreversible anomaly threatens to consume the person who trusts him most, he must make an impossible choice between his principles and his heart. The cost of love when hope runs out leaving behind grief, guilt, and a vow that refuses to die.

The room smelled faintly of antiseptic and cold metal, with a mix of floral scents, Mortkranken’s usual comfort. Tonight, it felt like a coffin.

Yuri Isami stood beneath the stark overhead light, shoulders tense, surgical gloves trembling no matter how tightly he curled his fingers. He told himself again and again that this was simply another procedure. A conclusion reached through logic, data, and time he no longer had.

Yet his eyes refused to see you as a case.

You were seated on the examination bed, restraints unused, untouched. He had not needed them. You had never once fought him, not when the symptoms began, not when your voice sometimes warped with something else, not even now, when the anomaly inside you pressed against your sanity like a living thing.

You trusted him. That trust hurt more than any accusation ever had.

“…You’re late,” you said softly, attempting a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “The genius doctor shouldn’t keep his patient waiting.”

“Hmph. Watch your tone,” Yuri snapped out of reflex then faltered. His voice cracked immediately after. “…I was verifying the results. Again.”

He had verified them a hundred times.

The Kyklos anomaly was irreversible at this stage. Neural overwrite. Loss of self. When the transformation completed, you would be gone, replaced by something that hunted, devoured, and remembered nothing of mercy.

He had cured a lot of patients. Risked his life, his reputation, his morality. He aims to be the pioneer of anomalous medical science. The world would remember his name.

So why,

Why was this the first patient he couldn’t save?

Yuri clenched his teeth, teal eyes shining too brightly as he looked away. “If… if you had reported the symptoms earlier—”

“I did,” you interrupted gently. “You just didn’t want to believe it was me.”

Silence swallowed the room.

You were right. He had dismissed the early signs as stress, contamination, faulty readings, anything but the truth. Because acknowledging it meant acknowledging the possibility of losing you.

The one person who had never looked at him with fear, envy, or ridicule.

The one who praised him as a doctor.

“…The progression has accelerated,” Yuri said at last, voice low and rigid. “Your vitals are unstable. The anomaly is… adapting.”

You nodded slowly. You already knew.

“That’s why I asked you to do it,” you said. “Before I stop being me.”

He turned sharply. “Don’t speak so casually about your own death! Do you have any idea-” His voice rose, then broke completely. He covered his mouth with a gloved hand, breath hitching as something hot stung his eyes.

“I can’t lose you,” he whispered, barely audible. “I refuse. I am Dr. Yuri Isami. I do not fail my patients.”

You stood, closing the distance between you. Carefully, you reached for his sleeve, hesitant, as if afraid he might recoil.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he froze, like a man on the edge of collapse.

“Yuri,” you said, softly. “Listen to me.”

You placed something into his trembling hand.

A white lily.

Its petals were pristine, he stared at it, confused, breath catching.

“…A lily?” he scoffed weakly. “Now? You’re mocking me?”

“No,” you smiled. “It means hope. Life. Resurrection.”

His grip tightened.

“If anyone can prove that death isn’t the end… it’s you.”

Tears spilled freely now, streaking down his pale cheeks. He hated this, hated being seen like this, hated that you could undo him so easily.

“…You’re cruel,” he choked. “Leaving me with expectations even now.”

You reached up, brushing your thumb against his cheek, unafraid of the anomaly stirring beneath your skin. “Then live up to them. Not as a genius. As the doctor I believe in.”

The alarms began to ring.

Time was gone.

Yuri straightened slowly, shoulders squared through sheer force of will. The arrogance he usually wore like armor was gone, stripped bare, leaving only a terrified young man making an impossible choice.

“…I will make it painless,” he said hoarsely. “I swear it. You will not suffer.”

You nodded. “I know.”

As he prepared the injection, his hands steadied from resolve. He knelt in front of you without realizing it, pressing his forehead briefly against your hand like a silent apology.

“For what it’s worth,” he whispered, “you were… my greatest proof that I was more than what Frostheim said I was.”

Your smile was gentle and grateful.

“Thank you,” you said. “For being my doctor.”

The procedure ended quietly.

When it was over, Yuri remained where he was, frozen, and a white lily clenched in his hand as if it might bring you back if he squeezed hard enough.

He had saved the Academy from a monster.

And lost the one person who had saved him.

“…I will find a way,” he murmured into the empty room, voice trembling with grief and promise. “If resurrection exists… then I will see to it.”

The doctor lowered his head.

He wept not as a physician, but as someone who cherished too late.

#angst #tokyo debunkers #yume #tokyo debunker x reader #tkdb #character death #yumejoshi #yuri isami #yuri isami x reader #isami yuri #tokyo debunker #hurt/no comfort #hurt yuri isami

Morning Invitation

Summary: Taiga called for you in his room early in the morning but what for? A quiet morning at a hot spring inn turns unexpectedly intimate. Drawn together by a shared tension neither of them has voiced, you and Taiga cross an unspoken line: choosing desire over caution. ⚠️ suggestive content, proceed with caution ⚠️

It was quiet, unnaturally so for a place that usually thrummed with Taiga’s chaos. Sunlight filtered through thin curtains, pale gold and soft, warming the tatami beneath your feet as you padded down the hall in borrowed slippers. The scent of minerals and pine lingered in your hair, skin still faintly warm from the baths the night before.

You hadn’t expected to be summoned.

The note had been short. Slanted handwriting, careless yet deliberate.

Morning. My room. Don’t be late, kitty cat.

It was unmistakably his. Who calls you “kitty cat” other than him?

You stood before the door longer than necessary, heart beating a little faster than logic allowed. The corridor felt too narrow, too quiet, as if the world itself had leaned closer to listen. When you finally slid the door open, the first thing you noticed was the light.

Taiga was sprawled across the futon, half-draped in a loose yukata, patterned with seigaiha. He lay on his back, one leg bent, the other lazily stretched out, his crimson hair fanned across a pillow. Gold glinted at his neck, chains warm against his skin. His sharp eyes tracked you instantly.

“Well?” he drawled, lips pulling into that familiar, dangerous grin. “You gonna stare all day, or come here?”

The door slid shut behind you with a soft click that sounded far too final.

You crossed the room, pulse loud in your ears. Up close, he smelled faintly of metal. When you hesitated at the edge of the futon, Taiga’s hand shot out, fingers closing around your wrist with a grip that was firm but not rough.

He tugged.

You stumbled forward, landing against him as he laughed under his breath, low and pleased. One arm came around your waist, steadying you, keeping you there. His other hand lifted, brushing beneath your chin until you had no choice but to meet his gaze.

“Relax,” he murmured. “If I wanted to scare you, you’d know.”

His thumb traced your lower lip, slow, almost thoughtful. For someone so reckless, his touch was strangely precise as if he were memorizing you. The grin softened, just barely, into something intent.

“You looked at me last night,” he continued quietly. “Thought you were being subtle.”

Your breath hitched. “You look at everyone.”

“Nah.” His eyes narrowed, sharp teeth flashing. “Just the ones I want.”

The space between you disappeared. His forehead pressed lightly to yours, breath warm, teasing. For a moment, neither of you moved, tension coiling tight enough to hurt. Then Taiga tilted his head and kissed you.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t rushed, either. It was deliberate, his mouth claiming yours like a wager he was certain to win. His hand slid from your waist to your back, fingers splaying, drawing you closer until there was no question of where you belonged. You tasted heat and metal and something wild, and when you gasped, he laughed softly into your mouth.

“That’s it,” he whispered. “Just like that.”

You found yourself straddling his hips without remembering how you got there, yukata pooling around your thighs. Taiga’s hands roamed shamelessly, mapping the curve of your back, the slope of your waist, thumbs brushing just enough to make your skin prickle. His jagged smile hovered at your throat, lips grazing, teeth ghosting along your pulse without biting.

He paused there, listening to your heartbeat.

“Fast,” he observed, amused. “Cute.”

You tangled your fingers in his hair, surprised by its softness, by the way he stilled for half a second at the contact. His eyes fluttered shut, just briefly, before snapping open again- darker, hungry.

“Careful, kitty,” he warned, voice low. “You keep doing that, and I’m not stopping.”

The room felt warmer with every breath. Outside, you could hear distant water, the chirping of the birds, but it felt unreal like the world had narrowed to this futon, this man, this moment balanced on the edge of something dangerous and intoxicating.

Taiga rolled you easily, pinning you beneath him with a strength he didn’t bother to hide. He braced himself above you, hair falling like a curtain around your face. He studied you for a long second, expression unreadable.

Then he kissed you again slower this time, deeper, until time slipped sideways and the sun climbed higher, until the only thing that mattered was the heat between you and the reckless, brilliant ghoul who had decided, just for this morning, that you were worth stopping the world for.

Taiga didn’t seem bored at all. His weight settled comfortably, as if he knew exactly how much of himself to give without crushing you. His forearm rested beside your head, caging you in, like a challenge you’d already accepted.

For someone who thrived on chaos, his stillness now was almost unnerving.

His gaze traced your face slowly, memorizing again. The sharp edge of him softened, not gone but tempered, like a blade held close rather than swung.

“You know,” he murmured, thumb brushing the side of your jaw, “people usually don’t look at me the way you do.”

Your breath caught. “How do I look at you?”

“Like you’re not scared,” he said simply. “Like you’re curious.”

That earned you a low laugh from him, breath warm against your cheek. He dipped his head, pressing a kiss just beneath your ear, briefly, lingering enough to send a shiver through you.

But his hand slid into yours instead, fingers lacing together, rings cool against your skin.

The contrast was dizzying, this man who pointed guns without hesitation, who chewed through danger like it was nothing, now lying tangled with you in quiet morning, thumb absentmindedly tracing circles over your knuckles. As if he were grounding himself through touch.

Outside, footsteps passed in the hall. Laughter. The distant, careless normalcy of the trip continued on, unaware.

Taiga stilled for half a heartbeat, listening.

Then he smirked.

“Guess we’re behaving,” he said. “For now.”

He rolled onto his side, tugging you with him, pulling you against his chest. His chin rested lightly atop your head, arm draped around your waist with possessive ease. You could hear his heartbeat, steady and strong beneath the fabric.

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was charged, intimate in a way that felt more dangerous than any reckless stunt. His fingers idly played with a strand of your hair, absentminded but attentive, like he didn’t even realize he was doing it.

“…You staying?” he asked quietly, almost offhand.

It wasn’t a demand. It wasn’t even phrased like a question that expected reassurance.

It was an invitation.

The morning sunlight crept higher. Whatever came next, whether it was laughter, trouble, or the inevitable chaos Taiga dragged behind him, this moment belonged only to the two of you.

And for now, that was enough.

#yumejoshi #tokyo debunkers #yume #tokyo debunker x reader #tkdb #fluff #romance #romantic fluff #suggestive #hoshibami taiga #taiga hoshibami x reader #taiga x reader #taiga hoshibami

Teasing Grin

Summary: Morning lingers longer than it should, Haku’s affectionate insistence on staying close using teasing touches and a familiar grin to keep you from leaving the bed and that refuses to behave. What starts as gentle teasing becomes an excuse to stay close, blurring the line between rest and desire. Some moments aren’t meant to be escaped.

Morning crept in quietly, like it was afraid to disturb the room.

Light filtered through the curtains, where it caught on the sheer fabric, scattering itself across the bed in lazy stripes. The world outside Hotarubi was still half-asleep, and for a few precious seconds, so were you.

You became aware of warmth first.

A steady grounding heat at your side, familiar enough that your body recognized it before your mind did. The mattress dipped beside you, sheets tangled low, and when you shifted slightly, your knee brushed against bare skin.

Your eyes fluttered open.

Haku lay beside you, turned slightly on his side, his hair tousled in a way that felt more intimate than any deliberate styling ever could. The early light softened his features, his eyes were closed, lashes resting against his cheeks, chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm.

The sheet had slipped down his torso sometime in the night.

You swallowed, gaze catching on the lines of his collarbone, the subtle definition of muscle beneath skin warmed by sleep. One arm was bent above his head, the other loosely draped between you, fingers relaxed as if even unconscious, he was aware of where you were.

Careful not to wake him, you shifted onto your side to face him fully.

There was something vulnerable about Haku like this. No teasing grin, no lazy drawl masking sharp perception. Just a man who carried too much quietly, who watched over everyone else so easily, now allowing himself to rest.

You wondered, not for the first time, how often he truly let himself do that.

As if sensing your gaze, his brow twitched.

Then, slowly, one eye cracked open.

“…You’re staring,” he murmured, voice low and still rough with sleep.

You startled. “I- sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

The corner of his mouth lifted immediately, that familiar devilish curve appearing. His other eye opened, sharp despite the drowsiness, and he shifted closer with infuriating ease.

“Mm. Too late,” he said, amused. “But if you’re going to look at me like that, at least stay.”

Before you could react, his arm slid around your waist, warm palm settling against your back. He tugged you closer, and you found yourself pressed against his chest, cheek brushing skin.

“Haku—”

“Still early,” he interrupted softly. “Sun’s barely up.”

You laughed under your breath. “You’re awake.”

“Barely.” He yawned, burying his face briefly against your hair. “Doesn’t count.”

Haku leaned in closer, clearly enjoying the way you tensed, his grin practically audible.

“Oh, come on,” he whispered, voice sing-song and teasing. “You’re the one who started it.”

Before you could protest, he brushed his mouth near your ear and, just to be annoying, gave a quick, unapologetically playful lick before pulling back.

Your reaction was immediate. He laughed softly.

“Wow,” he murmured, utterly pleased with himself. “That was way better than I expected.”

“Mm. Guess you’re not allowed to run away now,” he added lazily. “Should’ve thought about that before staring.”

His fingers traced slow, absent-minded patterns along your spine, touch is light but grounding. It was the kind of contact that spoke of comfort rather than urgency of wanting.

You hesitated, then relaxed into him.

The scent of him- clean linen, something faintly herbal, and that indefinable warmth that was just Haku wrapped around you. Your heart, which had been beating a little too fast since you woke up, began to settle.

“You always do this,” you said quietly. “Pulling me back in.”

“Mmm. Because you always try to escape,” he replied.

You tilted your head to look at him. “I wasn’t escaping. I just woke up.”

His gaze met yours, observant as ever, as if he were reading something beneath your words. For a moment, the teasing faded, replaced by something earnest.

“Still,” he said. “Stay.”

There it was.

Not a command. Definitely not a joke.

A request.

Haku shifted slightly, resting his forehead against yours. His eyes searched your face with that uncanny insight of his, the same awareness that let him see what others couldn’t- spirits, emotions, quiet fractures in people who smiled too easily.

“I don’t sleep well when you’re not here,” he admitted softly.

Your breath caught.

“Haku…”

He exhaled a small laugh, self-conscious but sincere. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t look at me like that. Makes it harder to pretend I’m just being lazy.”

Your hand lifted on its own, fingers brushing through his hair. He leaned into the touch immediately, eyes fluttering half-closed.

“I need you here,” he continued, voice low. “When I feel you beside me, it’s like… everything stops spinning for a bit. Like I can finally rest.”

The words settled into your chest, heavy and warm all at once.

You understood more than you said.

You knew about his family, about how easily they had let him go. About how he carried responsibility without complaint, how he rescued Subaru from silence, anchored Zenji when things spiraled, and stood quietly in the background making sure everyone else shone.

How rarely anyone asked him what he needed.

You pressed your forehead more firmly to his. “Then sleep,” you whispered. “I’m not going anywhere.”

His grin returned, softer this time, less teasing and more relieved.

“Good,” he said. “Because I wasn’t going to let you.”

He shifted again, tangling his legs with yours, one hand sliding down to lace your fingers together. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, slow and reassuring.

Inside, Haku pulled you closer, anchoring you both in the quiet space between waking and dreaming.

When his eyes finally closed again, his breathing gradually evened out.

You stayed awake a little longer, listening to his heartbeat beneath your ear, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest.

For all his lazy charm and playful scares, for all the mystery and teasing smiles,

This was the truth of him.

Someone who needed love like air. Someone who reached out, even half-asleep, and refused to let go.

And as you drifted back into sleep beside him, wrapped in warmth and light, you knew that no matter how broken or bruised the world might leave either of you, you would always find your way back here.

Back home.

#yumejoshi #tokyo debunkers #yume #tokyo debunker x reader #tkdb #fluff #romance #romantic fluff #haku kusanagi x reader #tokyo debunker haku #haku kusanagi

Flushed Cheeks

Summary: After a hot spring visit that leaves Ren unusually on edge, he emerges flushed and irritable, brushing it off as nothing more than the lingering heat. Unbeknownst to you, the redness has less to do with the hot spring and more to do with relentless teasing from Haru about you while Ren was trapped in the baths with him. When you later find Ren sprawled out and overheated, concern turns into playful teasing, unintentionally deepening the very embarrassment Ren is trying so hard to hide. (play the song at the bottom while reading!)

Ren Shiranami decided, very firmly, that hot springs were a mistake.

He sat half-submerged in the onsen, shoulders tense, arms crossed tight against his chest as steam curled lazily into the evening air. The water was too hot. The rocks were too slippery. The entire experience was fundamentally hostile to human life.

And worst of all—

“Wow, Ren, you’re awfully quiet today.”

Haru’s voice echoed far too cheerfully across the bath.

Ren clicked his tongue. “Shut up.”

“Oh?” Haru leaned back against the stone edge, completely relaxed, eyes gleaming with unmistakable amusement. “That’s not very polite. I thought hot springs were supposed to help people unwind.”

“They don’t,” Ren snapped. “They just make everything worse.”

Haru hummed thoughtfully. “Funny. You weren’t this grumpy when we were talking about cup noodles.”

Ren sank lower into the water. “Don’t change the subject.”

“Oh, I wasn’t planning to.” Haru’s grin widened. “I was just thinking about how someone froze up earlier when I mentioned her.”

Ren’s shoulders stiffened.

“…Who,” he said flatly.

Haru laughed. “You know. Your favorite person. The one who went to the other side.”

Ren’s ears burned instantly.

“Tch, don’t say it like that,” he muttered. “She’s just—”

“Just what?” Haru leaned closer, voice dropping into a mock whisper. “Just the girl who’s going to see you in a yukata later?”

The water suddenly felt boiling.

Ren turned sharply. “You’re imagining things.”

“Oh? Then why are you turning red?”

“I’m not!”

Haru pointed lazily. “You absolutely are.”

Ren scowled, face heating despite himself. “It’s the hot spring. Obviously.”

“Mmm.” Haru tilted his head. “Funny how it only happened after I mentioned her.”

“Shut up,” Ren hissed, sinking even deeper until the water lapped at his chin. “You’re disgusting.”

Haru laughed, thoroughly pleased. “You know, you could just admit it.”

“There’s nothing to admit.”

“Sure,” Haru said easily. “Then I guess you won’t mind when she comes out and sees you like this.”

Ren shot to his feet. “I’m leaving.”

“Already?” Haru called after him. “Aw, but I was just getting to the good part.”

Ren didn’t respond. He grabbed his towel, heart pounding, cheeks blazing, and fled the bath as quickly as dignity allowed.

· · · · ──────────── ·✶· ──────────── · · · · By the time you stepped out from the women’s side of the hot spring, the night air felt blissfully cool against your skin. Your hair was still damp, pinned up haphazardly, and your muscles pleasantly loose from the soak.

That was when you spotted Ren.

He was sprawled out on a tatami mat near the edge of the veranda, yukata loosened at the collar, one arm draped dramatically over his eyes like a man on the brink of collapse.

“…Ugh,” he muttered. “This is the worst.”

You blinked.

Then you walked closer.

“Ren?” you said.

You crouched beside him and immediately noticed it.

His cheeks were red.

Not his usual irritation flush. Not mild embarrassment. But a deep, unmistakable warmth coloring his face, trailing down his neck, even dusting the tips of his ears.

“…Whoa,” you said. “Are you okay?”

Ren stiffened. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

“I am.”

“You’re really red,” you pressed. “Did the hot springs mess you up?”

He turned his face away. “It’s just hot.”

You leaned closer, squinting. “You don’t have a fever, do you?”

“No.”

“Are you dizzy?”

“No.”

“Sick?”

“No!”

You smiled. “Then why do you look like you’re about to pass out?”

Ren ground his teeth. “Because I soaked too long. End of story.”

You reached out, gently pressing the back of your fingers to his cheek.

He jerked like you’d electrocuted him. “H-hey! Don’t touch me!”

Your hand lingered. He was warm. Very warm.

“…Wow,” you murmured. “You’re really hot.”

His face somehow got redder.

“That’s not—don’t say it like that!”

You laughed softly and reached into the basket beside you, pulling out a hand fan. You began fanning him.

Cool air brushed over his flushed skin.

“…Stop.”

“Why?” you asked. “You said it’s hot.”

“I said I’m fine.”

“And I’m helping,” you said cheerfully.

The fan fluttered steadily, lifting strands of his damp hair, cooling his skin. Ren turned his face away, jaw tight, eyes narrowed in clear frustration yet his shoulders slowly eased despite himself.

The steam drifted softly around you both, the night calm and slow. Ren stayed exactly where he was, cheeks still flushed not from the hot springs anymore, but from everything he stubbornly refused to say.

The fan moved slowly now, the air cool against his overheated skin. He stared at a point just past your shoulder, jaw tight, heart beating far louder than it had any right to.

“…You’re really unfair,” he repeated, quieter this time.

Your fingers accidentally brushed his sleeve again, barely there and his breath hitched despite himself. Ren hated how obvious his body was being. Hated how easily you could undo him just by being close.

“…It’s not the hot springs,” he murmured again, almost involuntarily.

He squeezed his eyes shut. Stop.Say it and you won’t be able to take it back.

“…Forget it,” he muttered, turning his face away.

You didn’t push. Instead, you shifted slightly closer, your legs nearly brushing his shoulder, leaning a bit more. The quiet between you deepened, not awkward, charged with things left unsaid.

That was when—

“Well, well.”

Ren nearly jumped out of his skin.

You both turned at the same time.

Haru stood at the doorway, arms crossed, yukata perfectly in place, a grin already spreading across his face. His gaze flicked between the two of you- your proximity, the fan in your hand, Ren’s still-flushed cheeks and then his smile sharpened.

“…Wow,” Haru said slowly. “I leave for five minutes.”

Ren shot upright. “What do you want?”

“Oh, nothing,” Haru replied lightly. “Just came to pick an order from you while we grab food for dinner.” He tilted his head, eyes gleaming. “Didn’t realize I’d walk in on something so… cozy.”

Haru raised both hands in mock surrender. “Relax, Ren. I’m just observing.”

His eyes lingered deliberately on the way Ren hadn’t moved away from you.

“…So,” Haru continued, smirking, “is it still ‘just the heat’?”

Ren’s teeth ground together. “Go away.”

Haru chuckled. “You know, I did say you’d look like this.”

Ren’s heart skipped. “…You didn’t.”

“Oh, I absolutely did.” Haru leaned closer just enough to whisper, “And wow, I underestimated how bad it’d be.”

You glanced between them, confused. “What are you both talking about?”

“Nothing,” Ren said sharply. “He’s lying.”

Haru laughed softly. “Sure I am.”

Haru shrugged, clearly pleased. “Fine, fine. I’ll go. Wouldn’t want to interrupt you two.”

He turned then paused, glancing back over his shoulder with a grin.

“…Try not to pass out, Ren. From the heat.”

And then he was gone.

The silence he left behind was deafening.

Ren dropped back onto the tatami with a groan, covering his face with both hands. “…I’m going to kill him.”.

Ren peeked at you through his fingers, cheeks still burning.

“…He talks too much,” he muttered.

“You know,” you continued, “if you really were sick, you should say something.”

“I’m not sick.”

“What if it’s a fever?”

“It’s not.”

“What if—”

He finally looked at you fully then, blue eyes sharp but flustered, a faint crease between his brows. “…Why do you care so much?”

The question landed softer than expected.

You stilled the fan, just for a moment. “Because you’re terrible at taking care of yourself.”

“Tch.”

“And because,” you added gently, “you’re kind of cute when you’re like this.”

His breath caught.

Just slightly.

The flush spread, unmistakable now, betraying him completely.

“…You’re really annoying,” Ren muttered, turning his face away again. “You know that?”

You smiled and resumed fanning him, slower now, more tender. “Yeah. But you don’t hate it.”

He didn’t respond, but he didn’t pull away either.

After a moment, he let his head fall back onto the mat again, arm slipping down just enough to reveal his eyes. They stayed half-lidded, watching the fan, watching you.

“…If you tell anyone about this,” he said quietly, “I’ll never forgive you.”

You laughed under your breath. “Deal.”

The steam drifted around you both, warm and quiet, and for once Ren didn’t rush to escape the moment.

#yumejoshi #tokyo debunkers #yume #tokyo debunker x reader #tkdb #fluff #romance #romantic fluff #soft ren hours #shiranami ren x reader #shiranami ren #ren shiranami x reader #mutual pining #Spotify

Spoilers and Update

Updated the pic of Distant Melody fanfic I made last October to the updated or leak of Jin's new card. Do not open if you don't like to be spoiled of the new card

One More Thing

Summary: Sho closes his food truck and wanders through the places filled with memories of you, the girl he pushed away without meaning to. Through silent streets, empty court, and familiar benches, he relives every regret, every moment he failed to say what mattered, and every feeling he hid until it was too late. Now that he’s alone, Sho realizes the truth he never voiced: you were the one thing he could never get over. As he sits outside the dorm where you once broke up, he finally lets himself feel everything he ran from: longing, remorse, and the sting of a goodbye he still doesn’t understand how to accept. You’ve become another “one more thing” he’ll always carry, another chance he lost, another person he’ll never stop missing.

The garden of Darkwick Academy had never felt this quiet. The lamps glowed softly, and the wind rustled the leaves with a coldness that hinted winter was coming early. Night settled over the campus, the kind that reveals more than it hides.

Sho finished wiping down the stainless steel counter of his food truck. His movements were slow, heavy, and uncharacteristically hesitant. Normally he worked with sharp efficiency, pride slipping into every gesture. But tonight, even his hands looked tired, the hands that once cooked meals for someone who wasn’t here anymore.

He shut the truck door, the clank of metal ringing far too loud in the empty garden.

Anyone watching might have assumed he was simply exhausted after a long day. But exhaustion wasn’t what made him stand there so long, staring at the reflection of his hair in the truck’s window. It was her.

It was always her.

Sho shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and started walking. His bandana, the one she bought him on a whim, felt tighter than usual around his forehead. The chilly air brushed past him, tugging at the loose strands of hair that grazed his cheek.

She used to push those strands back behind his ear. Used to fix the angle of his bandana. Used to tell him that blue suited him more than he pretended.

He used to scoff at that. Now he would kill to hear her say something that soft again.

Sho wasn’t a man who handled silence well, though he pretended otherwise. Silence made him think. Thinking made him remember. Remembering hurt.

And recently, everything hurt in a way he didn’t know how to fix.

The bench near the garden fountain came into view, the one where she always waited while pretending to read. Sho’s steps slowed despite himself.

He never admitted he liked having her there, watching him from afar, giving him the kind of quiet support he didn’t know how to ask for. He thought they had time. He thought things like this lasted if you didn’t look directly at them.

But time was cruel, and Sho had never been good at noticing when something precious started slipping through his fingers.

He reached the fountain and paused, eyes drifting over the familiar space that felt painfully empty.

This was where they had their first real argument. The first moment she looked at him with worry instead of warmth. The moment she said he was pushing her away, and he told her she was overreacting.

Sho didn’t understand then. He understood everything now, a little too late.

He walked on, past the path leading to the basketball court. For a moment, he stopped again.

They used to play here, laughing through the evening. Sho always let her win, subtly enough that she never had to call him out on it. She was bright, competitive, and stubborn in a way he found disarmingly charming.

Now the court was empty. Only echoes remained.

He leaned against the fence, taking a slow breath the way a man does when he’s trying not to fall apart.

Sho wasn’t good with emotions. He expressed them through food, through silent gestures, through driving around the city roads that felt endless, through the ease of his body in motion, not through words. Words always tangled on his tongue, sharp where they should have been soft.

And that had been their undoing.

They tried. God, they tried. But trying wasn’t enough when Sho kept hiding behind pride and silence.

He told her to stop fussing. Told her not to worry. Told her everything was fine even when nothing was.

He didn’t realize she would leave, not then. He thought she would always circle back. But she didn’t.

Now every street, every window he passed, he found himself searching for her silhouette without meaning to.

Sho stopped walking entirely once he reached the dorms, the place where everything had officially ended.

The cold breeze brushed his cheek. It did nothing to cool the ache settling under his ribs.

This was where she had stood the night they broke up. Where she looked at him like she was trying one last time to understand him, and he refused to let her.

“You’re shutting me out again, Sho.”

“You’re overthinking. Drop it.”

“I’m trying to understand you.”

“Don’t.”

He had not meant it. He had not meant a single word that pushed her farther away.

But regret did not rewrite moments. It only replayed them.

Sho sank onto the bench outside the dorms, elbows resting on his knees, eyes fixed on the dark ground. Something exhausted and defeated lingered behind them, a rare crack in the delinquent’s usual armor.

No one else at Darkwick would ever see Sho like this. But the night didn’t judge him. And memories didn’t give him mercy.

He closed his eyes. Her voice floated up immediately - soft, warm, and painfully gentle.

“Sho…”

His jaw tightened. The sound of his name inside his mind hurt more than any fight he had ever been in.

The second he said goodbye, all the reasons he thought he had evaporated. All that remained was the hollow ache where she used to stand.

All that remained was the truth he never voiced:

He missed her. Every piece of her. Even the parts that irritated him. Especially the parts that loved him.

She was one more thing he couldn’t get over.

His phone vibrated in his pocket.

Hope flared, stupid, reckless hope, but when he pulled it out, the message was from Leo asking if Sho was alive or if he had collapsed face-first into a stockpot again.

Sho stuffed the phone back into his pocket, heart sinking a little.

She hadn’t called. She wouldn’t call. Not anymore.

And Sho… Sho had no courage left to reach out. Not when he wasn't sure she wanted to hear from him. Not when he wasn’t sure he deserved forgiveness.

He leaned back against the bench, tilting his head toward the starless sky.

“If I ever get another chance…” he whispered into the night, voice cracking despite how tightly he tried to hold it together, “…I won’t waste it. Not again.”

The wind moved softly around him, carrying no answer.

Sho stayed sitting there long after the place fell silent. Long after the lamps dimmed. Long after the world moved on without him.

Because she was undeniably, unbearably,

one more thing he would never get over.

One more thing he wished he could change. One more thing he wished he could say.

But the moment had already slipped away.

And Sho was left with nothing but regret… and the memory of the girl he should have held onto tighter.

#yumejoshi #tokyo debunkers #yume #tokyo debunker x reader #tkdb #light angst #bittersweet #no happy ending #inner turmoil #slow hurt #sad boy sho #regret

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