concrete flowers

heartache, she only doin' what she know

[bamdelune]

࣪  ▸ ࣪ 𓆉 @ bamdelune . 𓂅  ࣪  ˖  𓄹

࣪  ▸ ࣪  you are the best thing that's ever been mine 

user info... em 7TEEN she/her

☆ rules ★ masterlist ☆ carrd : bamdelune.carrd.co

★ https://forms.gle/tqgoq9UPus5CkpaD9 (taglist forms)

﹒░ ! i write for : genshin impact, jujutsu kaisen, attack on titan, resident evil, love&deepspace & more

[bamdelune]

Deep in the Marine (I Found You) ★ Rumi x Jinu (RuJinu / JinuRumi)

note: this was originally posted on AO3! this was inspired from the post from one of the artists saying that this was a scrapped pitch for the film :>

tags: enemies to friends to lovers first kiss, aquarium date, both of them need a bug, slight mommy issues for Rumi, they're both bad at feelings, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff

“So this is what people do with oceanic animals nowadays: keeping them captive in glass casings for us to muse at,” Jinu nitpicked, curiosity laced with sarcasm hinted in his tone, “how state-of-the-art.” Chestnut brown eyes beheld the aquarium that enveloped his surroundings in a deep, serene blue that mimicked the depth of the ocean, the vibrancy of the exhibit made his eyes glow with a tinge of gold.

Rumi let out a soft scoff that was accompanied by a quick roll of her eyes as she fell into step beside him, treading along the entrance of the marine exhibit after a quick admission inside. Maybe bringing a demon originating from the Joseon dynasty here wasn’t the best idea for an outing; even with his boyish appearance, it still didn’t disregard the four-hundred year-old soul that lay within—one that still carried a timely charm even as time had attempted to erode him. Though with certain factors (read: inquisitive looks from Zoey and Mira), Rumi figured that taking Jinu to an aquarium lessened the risk of being seen and prying media coverage.

“They’re well-protected and fed,” she countered. The male only snorted at that.

“Point is: they’re not where they truly belong, even if they’re living a comfortable life.”

“Rude.”

The two took a stroll inside; passing underneath an arch where sharks weaved through the water above the, through a section where corals danced against the currents created by bigger fishes and creatures that crawled. It’s when the pair reached a section, widespread with smaller fish with a betta fish following closely behind do they stop and stare.

The pink betta fish, spotted with dark splotches of black across its scales, swam past them from the other side of the glass, dragging a veil-like fin in its wake as it joined the school of fishes smaller than its size. Rumi eyed it, standing in front of the tank with an introspective frown. She feels Jinu slide into the space beside her but she pays no attention, her attention poured unto the solitary betta, fleetingly questioning why this one doesn’t eat the smaller fishes around it. Perhaps, this fish was used to living with others unlike it, its identity lost among the crowd and overshadowed by the need to survive and fit right in. Rich, for something that fought its own to live.

A few beats of silence pass them by. One. Two, before Jinu spoke.

“It’s just like you.”

The quiet hum and hushed chatter of nearby guests followed thereafter. He watched Rumi’s eyes follow the betta swam and swam with the group, like it was identical to the rest of them. It’s only when she did not bite back with a snappy response did Jinu try to take back what he said.

“Oh, I don’t mean—”

“You’re right.”

Her words cut through his, sharp yet it sounded defeated. Jinu breaks from his scrutinizing trance, now fixing unto the girl beside him. Rumi idly stood where she was, eyes slightly lowered while her stare lingered on the fish before it glided away from her line of sight.

Jinu wanted to kick himself, maybe sewing his mouth shut would’ve made a better punishment. How Rumi received his remark was different from how he intended it to come out, missing the mark entirely. Sure, he thinks Rumi stands out to him in ways that he doesn’t expect but that in itself was what he found so alluring about her. Underneath the pop perfection was a door he wanted to unlock himself, to traverse with a selfish desire to know more like how a moth was drawn to a flame. At no point in his existence did he feel the way he did now—to finally have found someone like him, who understood what guilt sprung from hiding felt like.

They walked further into the exhibit, with the columns of the currents rippling when marine life paddled, creating translucent streaks on the floor as the light passed. She wonders once more: were these creatures aware that they weren’t supposed to be here, that there was a better, more liberating place for them outside of control and captivity, outside of the need to impress and keep up appearances. With every step came a thought; Rumi couldn’t help but feel like everything about this was wrong. Not the aquarium and its animals, but this whole ordeal with the boy beside her. In the first place, she wasn’t supposed to be out here disguised in layers and layers of clothing, sneaking around with the one person she vowed to never associate herself with.

The one person that contradicted everything she thought she stood for.

Before she could hold her tongue, the words softly fell from her lips, “I get scared sometimes.” It was an earnest confession, a vulnerable one that had been pushed out of her throat. Her hand found itself underneath her sweater’s sleeve, feeling for the patterns that ran along her arm—an unforgettable reminder of what she was and what she wasn’t, the deception she’s been spinning with Zoey and Mira.

“I get scared when I think about how they’d react,” Rumi continued, her voice cracking just slightly, “—to this.”

Jinu doesn’t reply instantly, choosing to mull over her words carefully this time. “To your patterns?” he asked, matching her hesitant tone. He watched her fingers fiddle with the edge of her sleeve, how it creased with her touch.

“You’re not what your patterns are, y’know. If anything, you and I are living, breathing proof that demons aren’t exactly as one-note other hunters think we are.”

Rumi swore she almost flinched.

We.

Is this what this is now?

It’s something the hunter never wanted to admit out loud for feeling as if she betrayed everyone: Zoey, Mira, Celine—

Her mother.

But when Jinu came around, Rumi was forced to come to terms with the part of her identity she desperately hid from the world, that she is also part of the race of demons that she swore to defeat—her lineage, a hypocrisy to her own values, a contradiction to what she believed in: that demons felt nothing, living for the wreckage of souls. For years, she was conditioned to believe that these patterns were nothing but a dirty, shameful secret to be kept under wraps, underneath a front that was anything but truly herself.

With Jinu around, Rumi was untethered.

And that scared her. The feeling of liberty, temporarily safe from the dread that kept them chained down to the guilt.

With him, she knew she didn’t need to hide.

Rumi tugged her sleeve down, the cuff swallowing her hand once more as it extended past her fingertips. She swallowed the thickness in her throat, the vibrant blue of the aquarium suddenly too suffocating as she tried to deflect any thought—ones that entertained the possibility of co-existing with someone like Jinu and expected her to keep the feeling of belongingness to herself.

Did her mother ever think about it like that too?

Did her mother ever feel imprisoned by the cost of love that birthed her?

It was hopeless, futile to even dream of a world where the Honmoon was for nothing, no demons to keep in the underworld because humans, hunters, and demons learned to make peace with each other. She shook the thought out of her head—

“It doesn’t matter what you and I prove, Jinu,” Rumi grimaced. “They have their minds made up.”

“But what if we don’t have to prove anything?” Jinu debated, taking on a firmer tone like he was angry, but not at her—never at her.

Rumi gave him a sideways glance, “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

A small, wry laugh tumbles from his lips. “My soul has been around for four centuries, smartass. I think I do know what I’m saying.” As soon as the words left him, Rumi felt a gentle tug on her sleeve. Her eyes fall when she realizes Jinu was already holding her clothed wrist, pushing back the sleeve with the fabric ruffling so that part of her arm, patterned with mauve marks that matched his own, was slightly peeking out. His brown eyes followed the thumb that traced the prints, reminiscent of the way they marked his own body.

“You’re not a bad person,” Jinu mumbled, eyes now meeting hers—no mockery, not a hint of the malice that the usual demon would possess but instead, it was warmth that seemed to radiate towards her. The golden brown of Jinu’s eyes mapped across her features, committing each one to memory with deep recollection. He could never imagine anyone shying away, disgusted by this version of Rumi. If anything, he thought that these patterns that adorned her skin—especially under the vibrant marine blue of the aquarium where life was controlled—made her look ethereal, otherworldly, like someone he doesn’t deserve, not with the life that he has lived.

Especially not with the guilt of the past that haunts the present.

For someone just within reach, Rumi seemed almost untouchable—like he’d burn himself if he dared to lay a finger on her. Just the sight of her like this, with a few strands of her hair sticking out, plain and free without the burden of trying to impress—gods, his heart did somersaults in a way that it hasn’t before.

It had him unbelievably, stupidly, undeniably smitten.

A feeling he wasn’t sure he’d ever feel in this lifetime.

Hesitantly, Jinu’s hands hover against her face, the inch of space between them a silent question:

May I touch you?

Will you let me?

Rumi’s eyes search the pool of Jinu’s eyes, one that held a desire to be free, just like what she held too. In those hues of golden brown, she draws up a life for him;

He’d be unbound from the hauntings of a life he gave up for another long ago, disentangled from the vow Gwi-ma holds over his head that tormented each and every move he made.

Jinu would finally find the relief of living for himself.

When Rumi doesn’t show a sign of pulling away, of repulsion, his heart breathes ever so slightly—a sigh of relief before his fingers gently push back a strand of lavender behind her ear with such care that passed as reverent, a worship.

“You should let your hair down sometimes, Rumi,” Jinu whispered, a tender smile sweetening his lips, tugging it upwards just slightly.

“Yeah?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

The pad of his finger traced the faint marks that had begun to appear on her face, ones that had made themselves known a few days ago. The prints of his thumb engraving itself on her skin like a promise. He leaned in—just very slightly—a hair’s width from Rumi’s nose, faced with an overwhelming dilemma.

A choice, with a very obvious answer.

To cross a line they aren’t meant to tread in the first place.

His eyes drift down to her lips, the gloss of makeup absent from the plush that seemed almost too inviting, a temptation he’s never faced before.

His gaze snaps back to the hues of Rumi’s eyes, the two of them communicating an unspoken agreement. It was now another question, or rather, a mental plea.

Tell me I’m crazy, that you don’t feel this at all.

Push me away before I do something you’ll regret.

It’s when they lock eyes once more does Jinu swallow nothing in particular down his throat, his hand just barely lingering on her jawline, rubbing patterns. Their shallow breaths fanned against each other, the tension so thick it was possible to slice through it with a blade. But when Rumi holds his longing gaze, matching his with a look of permission dancing in her pupils—

He doesn’t fight the magnetic pull he feels this time.

She was the North pole.

While he was the South.

And they can do nothing about it but allow themselves to be pulled towards the other, strung together by an unlikely fate that spans lifetimes and lifetimes.

Before any of them could realize their lips were already pressed against each other, with Rumi tilting her head upwards to meet Jinu’s in a kiss fueled by nothing but yearning—a kiss that sung a hymn of a unique understanding between them.

You don’t have to hide.

Not from me.

“As far as I’m concerned, you’re just as beautiful with the cracks showing,” he muttered against her lips, before resting his forehead against hers, feeling a weight roll off his shoulders.

And maybe this time—

The two of them can learn to let the jagged edges meet the light soon enough.

[bamdelune]

stop hindsight was so good i cried n had to tell my friends bout it😢😢😢😢

i'm so sorry for the tears a silly little smau i wrote a couple of years ago caused i might do it again

[bamdelune]

may your tears never turn into storms .𖥔 ݁ ˖ gojo satoru x reader

tags ➜ comfort fic. slightly (a tad bit more) self-infulgent, words of affirmation & physical touch, use of call signs, afab reader. not beta read (i just came out of the hole i was hibernating in)

Satoru has always been adept at reading you. To many, he might come across as oblivious, dense, or maybe dim-witted. But one thing about Gojo Satoru is that he always just knew.

The slightest spike in your cursed energy, the way you say one less word when you speak your mind, the faraway look in your eyes when your mind was clouded with thunderstorms that never striked outside that mind of yours—he learned how to read the telltale signs, just for you.

Everything felt so loud, so noisy, so irritating. You might as well go manic in the next few moments but you can't—it was never in your vocabulary to take it out, moreso on others even when sometimes, people just needed a good scolding.

The mist of tears have long come to take residence in the waterlines of your eyes since an hour ago; it's a miracle your head hasn't strained with the intensity of each sob that tears out of your throat which then is absorbed by the plush of your pillow as to not disturb Satoru, who was busy cooking something up for dinner. It wasn't like you to cry over trivial things, muching opting to move on because after all, who needs to dwell on matters that stress one out?

But this week—or rather, month in particular has been throwing you around like a ragdoll, as if you were a wrestler as scrawny as a twig against a tall, muscular lump that embodied the inconveniences that had punched you in the face so far. You weren't sure whether to feel angry, frustrated, or upset and perhaps, the array of emotions simply crashed down on you in the next moment.

Satoru straightens his lips into a thin line as he slides the vegetables that you liked eating onto a small saucer, paired with your favorite instant noodles. ("These are bad for you! You're gonna get a heart attack some day!" he would nag one day, shaking his head in disbelief.) You haven't come out of the den that is your shared bedroom since morning. Your boyfriend knew better to let you cry it out first, and he'll surely be there once more for the second wave of tears after he prepared your food. And so, he shuffles over to the shut door, knocking just slightly as to not startle you so much.

"Baby? Y'kay in there?"

No response.

He knows you're not, but he just needed to make sure you knew he was there first.

"I'm coming in, alright?" he gives a heads-up, before turning the doorknob to see your form laying on the bed. You were facing the wall, wrapped under a blanket to provide some sort of cover for yourself. If he wasn't listening, Satoru would've missed the way your breath sounded like it was shaking and the soft sniffles of your clogged nose but he didn't. His heart cracked just hearing you so upset, and a frown makes its way to his lips.

You feel the bed dip under his weight, before a calloused hand gently rub circles on your shoulder.

"You wanna eat?" he asks to which you shake your head no to with what little strength you had. His azure eyes observing your body language to get an idea of what you were feeling. But at the end of the day, Satoru was no mind-reader, the least he could do was wait for you to open up even if you had a hard time doing so even after all these years.

You hear him sigh, before muttering a soft 'c'mere.' Satoru climbs fully into the covers before pulling you to face him. When you finally do, fresh and dried stains of tears had cascaded down your face. Your nose carried a subtle hue of pink, one that matched your quivering lips. Your eyes are glossy, shifting so much that he would have assumed you were nervous—but instead, all he saw was someone so defeated, tested, and exhausted. Satoru swears he can hear his heart shatter at the thought of you so troubled.

His hand come to brush a lock of stray hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear before drifting to your cheek. The pad of his thumb is soft, caring against your troubled expression. The prints of his finger wiping away any tear that had fallen in the process.

"My pretty girl," he whispers, giving you a soft smile. When Satoru grins, it's usually laced with loads of confidence and smugness but when it comes down to just the two of you, it's something that could light up your world for days. "Such a crybaby." There's no malice behind his words, just pure intention to be what you need when you've fallen down.

He feels you pull yourself closer and into his warm embrance, burying your face into the plane of his chest while your arms wrapped around him. He feels your shoulders shake, and the best thing he can do is rub your back accompanied with loving kisses to the crown of your head.

"Maybe I am just a little selfish, choosing you over them," you mumble haphazardly, a fresh wave of salty tears now staining his shirt. "I just don't want anyone fighting anymore."

Satoru snorts, "Your friends truly are interesting. But I can hold off on arguing with them, if that's what you want. Anything for you."

A shaky exhale escapes you, making you press deeper into his hold. "Stop picking on them, don't stoop to their level."

"'m not! I'm just saying, I've always been in the right when it came to that little dispute."

Satoru feels you frown and he has to smack himself. This isn't about him nor your friends right now but rather you, yourself. You, who worked so hard and held off so strongly against everything that had made you upset. You, who tried to be the mediator but gave up when she sees people barely even trying to understand her.

Among some other things, Gojo Satoru had a titanic sense of pride. But as your boyfriend sighed and wrapped his arms around you once more, pulling you so close that his arms felt like it was all you needed to feel protected against the world, he realized that his love for you would be a lot bigger than whatever petty dispute he was dealing with.

"Fine, I'll extend an olive branch."

And perhaps, it's in the small sacrifices the great Gojo Satoru makes for love that makes loving you human, even if he had the reverence of a god.

© bamdelune 2025. do not repost, translate, plagiarize any of my works without permission, thank you so much! reblogs, notes, and comments are always appreciated!

[bamdelune]

an art gallery could never be as unique as you .𖥔 ݁ ˖ rafayel x reader

tags ➜ angst, hurt/comfort elements, reader just ghosts him SAWRY, not beta-read, may be canon divergent (i haven't played LADS in two years woops...)

summary ➜ Art is a discipline, a lifestyle Rafayel lived for—aside from you. But what happens when the source of his inspiration, the driving reason for every brush stroke on the canvas and every dip into the paint had disappeared?

note ➜ this is not beta-read because to be very honest this was only written as a futile attempt to revive this account T__T apologies if this made no sense at all because i just saw this concept on TikTok about Raf getting burnt out when the user doesn't open the app for long periods of time and that TWISTED MY GUT SO BAD OH MY DAYS.

It wasn't unusual for Rafayel's studio be filled with silence during the day. In fact, the painter usually preferred it when the walls were silent, giving way for fresh ideas to roll in. But these days, the studio seemed eerily quiet with no sign of the familiar hunter gracing its halls like how she should be doing.

Messages left delivered, unread. It was unusual of you to do such because Rafayel knew you would always respond. He can't help but get worried, after all, it wasn't like you to ignore him, much more be off your phone for days on end. For a vague reason, he can't seem to put a finger on why he feels so demotivated just because of a measly little notification he expected to light his phone up at the most random of times. It's just a bubble, why was he so caught up in something so trivial?

But to Rafayel, it wasn't just a childish notification. It was routine; something he can't ever give up. Not now, not tomorrow, not ever.

As much as he hated to admit it: you are his routine. It was clockwork (or rather, it wasn't) for him to eagerly press on the power button of his phone to scan for your contact name on the lit screen. It drove him crazy, and frankly, he was amused. Amused that you could have such an affect on his days as if you controlled it. You minx. You're so cruel, he believes, for having this control on him that he can't seem to get enough of even when you don't know it. Perhaps he'd prefer it if you didn't. He knows you, you'd stop the moment you found out he enjoyed something that sounded so masochistic. Because damn it all if you weren't kind. That's one of the things he both loves and hates about you. Rafayel loves it, for it makes everywhere the two of you go home. Rafayel hates it, because it draws him dangerously closer to you when he knows he shouldn't indulge.

He tries his best. The bristles of the brush slightly dip into the clumpy and viscous paint bucket that sat beside his canvas, carrying a vibrant hue that seemed to contrast how gray his world felt. There was no sign of you, and that felt like there was no sign of life. His hand that usually moved with conviction now stroked the surface of his work with uncertainty, as if his thoughts were clogged up in his head with no way out, no way to make themselves known to him. His eyebrows furrow, focused on each stroke and stripe of his hand but it feels futile. Rafayel doesn't know what he's doing, he's aimless.

A sigh heaves from his mouth, tossing the paintbrush somewhere he can't even be bothered to look at. His hands rest on his dress pants, leaning his weight on his knees as his purple orbs absentmindedly gander at the atrocity of a painting that sat before him. When did this feel so empty?

That's when he realizes he physically can't take it anymore.

His fingers are quick to inch for his phone, hesitating a little before they tapped on the screen of your contact. Floods of unread messages are a reminder of the things yet to be acknowledged and the fresh wave of demotivation washes over him once more as his hands over the keyboard, thinking of what to say.

But what else can Rafayel say except the usual.

"I miss you."

It's simple. It's nothing new. But it's him.

© bamdelune 2025. do not repost, translate, plagiarize any of my works without permission, thank you so much! reblogs, notes, and comments are always appreciated!

[bamdelune]

Hello! Can i req a part 2 of the story "tears of the condemed"? Plssss i really want a happy ending TT

originally, i planned it out to be oneshot guys but maybe if demand is a little high then ☝️

[bamdelune]

welcome home .𖥔 ݁ ˖ nanami kento x reader

warnings ➜ cw: pre - shibuya incident, spoilers

notes ➜ gege akutami when i catch you.

songs of the morning hummed into the quiet of your humble apartment, light sneaking through the sheer curtains of the tall window panes. you never woke up before kento but today seemed to be a special case as your eyes riddled with sleep found your fiance's sleeping form, soft snores of slumber falling from his lips. he looked so peaceful, so rested—a rare sight to see from the amount of times he'd come home with aching muscles and bruises, sometimes even going as far burns and scratches.

"don't worry, i have it all figured out," he would tell you, accompanied with a chaste kiss to your forehead. but worry is something you can't not do, knowing the dangers of jujutsu society. him coming back home to you was never guarranteed, never a sure thing, and will never be established as a routinely happening whether you wanted it to or not.

kento was made for great things, you knew that much. he loved to help. he hated the perils of being a sorcerer but always threw himself into every assignment like it was his lifelong passion, like he was born for it—like the stars forced it unto him. nanami kento is the most selfless person you know, even going so far as to keeping yuji under his wing like a father would.

you've never seen a person more perfect, so unbelieveably unreal and you still need time to process the fact that this man was yours and you were his.

"go back to sleep," he mumbles into the pillow, stirring slightly with his eyes slightly cracked open sleepily. a smile etches on your lips when he presses closer against you, your skin on his. nanami always felt like home. your hands run through his blonde tresses, warranting him to lean closer than ever.

"we have things to do, kento," you giggle quietly.

"things can wait. i'm leaving for shibuya tonight," he grumbles uncharacteristically, like a child asking for extra time to stay tucked into the safety of the mattress. but despite the childish surface, the way his voice was unleveled... it tipped you off albeit you pay no attention to it.

"do you really have to?"

a beat of silence passes the both of you, thick with uncertainty but he manages to croak out an answer.

"i do."

it's merely a mission, nothing too different than the last. of course.

but why does it feel so dreadful? why now? why do you feel like you need to physically cling onto him, like all else will go wrong if he steps out into the world?

you tilt your head up to see his face, before pressing your lips on to his own. the familiar plush of it starting to calm the rumble of worries that flood your mind.

"come back to me, okay?"

kento smiles, before reciprocating. he felt like home. home was where kento is.

"for you, i'll try."

© bamdelune 2023. do not repost, translate, plagiarize any of my works without permission, thank you so much! reblogs, notes, and comments are always appreciated!

[bamdelune]

nobody told me the aot finale was going to break me this badly 😭 full-on sobbed approximately 7 times throughout an hour that was so crazy

[bamdelune]

In Hindsight (🎧) scaramouche x reader smau

synopsis. You are a singer-songwriter. Music has always been a part of you, it's a part of your identity that no one can ever take away. However, there's always a catch: you are diagnosed with a chronic illness that puts your life on a timer. Those who have heard your countless melodies have grown to notice that the notes on the sheet played a gloomier tune. Would the snarky and capable medical student you've met be able to bring life back into these melodies? Even as your life begins to seep out of your own body? A reboot/rebranded version of Autumn Leaves.

tags. gender-neutral reader, angst, fluff, crack, heavy contexts of death and illnesses, friends to lovers, slowburn, profanities, drinking (characters are in college), suggestive themes but no nsfw.

status. ongoing (06.07.23)

taglist. (status: open) — @beriiov @alatusorrow @br0oke96 @ohmyfinggod @itzblazekun @featuredtofu @sketcheeee @lazy-sanns @sakurapeach @sheraffim @vxmp-loml @sukunasrealgf @sleepning @yukiipc @thenightsflower @aqvvas @scaramoo @coquettemaiden @dappledstars @pooonyo @certified-simp-4evr @alatus-viator @yuminako @zephestia @mellowberrie (comment/send an ask to be added or removed, please let me know if i forgot to add you since my notification feed can be flooded sometimes!)

notes. using the 2023 calendar for the dates, timestamps don't matter unless stated, grammatical errors and typos here and there, slow updates but ending is already planned out, overall would have a heavy atmosphere for the duration of the runtime! will retain the taglist of autumn leaves along with the new ones that can be requested for this smau ! would be adding bonus episodes from time to time.

★ playlist. click here!

☆ cameo requests [open]. click here!

★ kuni's circle | reader's circle

TEASERS 📹

01. guess who's back

TRACKLIST 🎐 ( expected run-time: 20 chapters )

01. salt air

02. room 613

03. who i see in the corner of my room at night

04. the day i died once

04a. the day i died once pt. 2

05. tinsels around the tree

06. sugar cookies & diabetes

07. when the clock strikes

08. wash my back

09. ping pong

10. blue hour

11. graduation blues

12. i'm free!

13. new year, old me

14. tightrope

15. ring the alarm

16. tell me you don't care

17. forget them, i want him instead

18. all this late night talking

19. motherly cherish

20. kuni exclusive

21. halloween

22. and i'd go back to december all the time

23. never let go

24. don't go anywhere i can't follow

25. before you let go

26. plague my mind like how you always did

27. (epilogue) pieces of love

HIDDEN TRACKS 🎼 (bonus + side chapters)

01. you wanna see something funny

02. in bitterness comes fruit

03. never mind, never mine

04. well-planned funeral

05. the other way (spin off)

masterlist

© bamdelune 2023. do not repost, translate, plagiarize any of my works without permission, thank you so much! reblogs, notes, and comments are always appreciated!

[bamdelune]

tears of the condemned .𖥔 ݁ ˖ neuvillette x reader

summary ➜ The Oratrice Mecanique d'Analyse Cardinale rarely ever made errors in its judgement, suitable persecution befalling those on the other side of the law. The Iudex of Fontaine was well-aware and familiar with that fact but the Oratrice's final verdict cause his judgement to go sideways, because it involved you.

warnings/tags/notes ➜ the summary is a warning in itself, angst [i never payed much attention to neuvillette but seeing a few fics about him got me to write this heheuehe + info and events might be canon-divergent because i haven't unlocked fontaine yet but hey, i tried my best 🤓☝️]

Neuvillette truly did not understand why so many people sought out Fontanian hearings, as if watching the accused and the persecution go back and forth was an amusing routine incorporated in their daily lives. To the citizens, it seemed like hearings were an elaborate play that they could watch for entertainment instead of a catalyst to serve righteousness. The Chief Justice certainly did not have a taste for it, especially when the audience was filled with hushed chatter about the case today: your case; surprise, you do not play the part of the persecution but you are the accused.

Murder, both you and Neuvillette found it impossible to believe you could committ such an act but as the Iudex, he must learn not to let this cloud his judgement; Neuvillette must not his doubts pass the verdict instead of rationality.

"The evidence presented by the plaintiff shows us that there is no concrete reason to convict the defendant," His eyes catch your form relax, even by just a bit from his statement. "However, as practice, the final verdict will be determined by the Oratrice Mecanique d'Analyse Cardinale." Silence fills the Opera Epiclese as the mechanism moves between the scales.

Neuvillette's skin goes cold when the Oratrice has decided your fate.

Guilty.

Gasps erupt inside the opera and your expression is filled with dumbfoundedness. This was not the first time this happened but he's learned to trust the Oratrice's judgement over his own.

But can he truly put aside his bias if it meant getting you out of this predicament? Can he truly cross the law, the one aspect that founded everything that he has done so far.

Your voice rips out from the silence, riddled with desperation as you plead out to him.

"That's—that's not true at all! Monsieur Neuvillette, there must be some kind of mistake!"

Neuvillette clenches his fists, head straining from the thoughts that ran through his mind. He knew there was a mistake, he knew that the Oratrice can go against his own verdict but he's conflicted. Should he let you off scot-free or send you to the depths of Fortress of Merop—

"The judgement of the Oratrice Mecanique d'Analyse Cardinale is the final verdict of the court. We have no choice but to follow through with it. Please take the suspect into custody," his mouth opens before he could even think about anything else. Neuvillette swallows thickly, seeing the defeated look on your face—as if the stale silence of the courthouse gave way to the sounds of your heart shattering into tiny pieces; the heart that he had promised to take care of so sincerely every day and the heart he swore to never toss away.

The Fortress is a place meant for solitude, for the convicted to reflect on their actions but all you could think of was how dark and scary it was in your cell. It was clean for the most part, that you were thankful for but other than that, all sense of time seemed to blur. It was lonely, but being falsely arrested like this by your beloved helped you feel lonelier. You felt empty, almost numb like a hollow glass that threatened to break with a push that was enough to break and Neuvillette crossing your trust like that was the trigger.

Footsteps resound through the corridor outside your place, your head lifts to see him.

"Why are you here?" Neuvillette seems to almost wince at how your voice sounded so... colorless, deprived of the life he's grown to love. You never intended it to come out that way but being in here rarely gave you the privilege of human interactions, "Are you going to set me free, monsieur?"

The Chief Justice opens and closes his mouth, clearly conflicted on what he was going to say next, because what could you say to your (assumingly former) lover whom you just convicted of a murder in front of the public?

"No," he replies, like he's still in court. You dryly chuckle at his response. "Have you come to reprimand me then? That must be it right? The lover of the Iudex of Fontaine, condemned to a life behind bars at the hands of her own beloved, thst must sound terrible to you, yes? Does a number to your honorable image to the people," Your tone gradually turned more bitter at each word knowing the fact that he could've saved you, or at the very least kept you anywhere but here until the evidence and verdict lined up in agreement.

"I care less about my own image, mon chéri—"

Another gasp of a laugh falls from your lips, "Don't. Don't you dare call me that if you will spit such lies in the same breath."

"Would you rather me threaten the sanctity of my title as Iudex?" Neuvillete responds right after, his tone stern and almost to a level of a scream. You would've flinched if you weren't so agitated.

"I wish you would," you mutter under your breath. You were so desperate for authentic justice to be served. Knowing the citizens of Fontaine, this incident would leave a stain on your image. No matter where you'll go, you aren't free from the scrutinizing eyes of the people. Your life will never be the same.

Neuvillette scoffs, "Do you hear yourself? Do you know what you are asking of me?" He was angry now. See, when he gets irritated, Neuvillette is never the type to aggressively express such a feeling but rather, he emits a silent aura that just unsettles you to an extent. But you have to stand your ground.

"Such a selfish request for your circumstances."

Now it's your turn to huff an exhale, hurt gnawing at your chest at every word he spoke.

"Selfish? I'm selfish for asking for justice for a horrendous act of violence both you and I know I never committed?"

Your voice almost gave out under the weight of the sting of your chest, nearly cracking as you raise your voice at him, "You know the Oratrice can make mistakes, Neuvillette—"

"The Oratrice's judgement is absolute, it does not make errors," the man interjects. A beat of silence stays.

"You never believed my words, even for a moment, didn't you?"

Neuvillette swallows, eyes somehow on your face but never on your eyes. He's hyper-aware of the fact that he's hurt you more than enough times he promised not to, never. He always promised that he wouldn't be the one to shatter your heart into tiny pieces and crush them under the soles of his feet. He was the one that vowed to stay by your side amidst the intimidating whispers that talk, talk, and talk about how you would murder an innocent citizen in cold blood. And now he knew.

He had gone back on his word.

It doesn't take him a reply before you started again. "You lied to me," you muttered.

"You're correct, I never believed you for one second," Neuvillette responds, voice low. His mouth opens before he could even think about it.

No. He always would. Over anyone and anything else.

He cringes slightly at this. The Iudex of Fontaine behind closed doors was a complex man. He is built of layers upon layers of emotional concealing, it was never a good thing for him to blatantly open up to someone—but of course, that changed because of you.

"You're foolish to think you could've slipped past the Oratrice's verdict,"

You didn't. He knew that, you did nothing wrong.

"The time has come for you to pay your dues." Neuvillette fronts.

Let me get you out of here. Neuvillette pleads

You fall silent by the tail of his words, barely getting enough courage to look him in the eye. Too much, it was all too much.

"Just—just leave, I don't want to see you," you mumble, defeated. Your eyes catch the way salty tears softly drip onto your clenched fists, wiping your face with the back of your hand. If you were alone in a lonely cell, so be it.

You hear his footsteps hesitate for a moment before they clack away, getting softer and farther with each step.

Heavy rain littered the streets of Fontaine that day.

Hydro dragon, hydro dragon, wipe the tears from your face. Hydro dragon, hydro dragon, don't cry.

© bamdelune 2023. do not repost, translate, plagiarize any of my works without permission, thank you so much! reblogs, notes, and comments are always appreciated!

[bamdelune]

◜◡◝ bamdelune . . . masterlist ⟡

genshin impact

﹒mini / series

➜ in hindsight (modern!scara x reader smau)

➜ utterly, unbelieveably in love (modern!scara x reader)

in crimson series (antihero!scara x hero!reader - parts 1, 2, 3)

﹒drabbles / shorts

➜ open up to me (alhaitham x reader)

➜ buy 'n sell ! (modern!scara x reader smau)

➜ corroded in memory (zhongli & or x reader)

jujutsu kaisen

attack on titan

﹒drabbles / shorts

➜ the buried feeling of regret (levi ackerman x reader)

honkai star rail

﹒drabbles / shorts

➜ in sickness and in health (dan heng x reader)

persona 5

tears of themis

[bamdelune]

guidelines ° .𖥔 ݁ ˖

- i have my own schedule of uploading + i am a student, so please be patient with uploads !

- any type of harassment or discrimination is not welcomed

- don't like the ship / character = don't interact

- i'm not comfortable with writing full-blown nsfw content (however, i will write suggestive content from time to time; will be tagged if so)

- my inbox is always open for requests unless stated otherwise

- if you want to be tagged on my posts, please send an ask or answer my taglist forms

[bamdelune]

In Hindsight 🎬 Spin-off: Pieces of Love

summary ➜ but what if the universe gave you the pleasure of time?

notes ➜ surprise! i also wanted to do a spin-off from the original ending because i believe that those two idiots need a happy ending for once <3 set a year after the events of in hindsight. very, very, very short.

"Cut! That will be all everyone! Congratulations!"

The director's voiced boomed throughout the set. Kunikuzushi finally got off from his chair, his legs and feet sore from sitting down—he wasn't sure why.

He is the type of man to find long hours of waiting boring and idle, knowing full well that he could have spent each second doing productive activities. His medical exam was coming up and every bit of time mattered a big deal.

But he could bare to spend a whole day from reviewing as the shooting for your latest music video comes to a close. The weight of a month-long hectic schedule was lifted off your shoulders as soon as the director congratulated you. Your head tilts into a thankful and polite nod before skipping over to where Kunikuzushi was waiting. He opens his arms with a seemingly indifferent look but you knew well that he's been looking forward to this as much as you did.

"Hey," you greet him with a feathery smile, a wave of relief washing over you. Your arms loop around his neck, head tilted up to look at his charming features. You always found it alluring whenever he looked like this: lazily confident. Your heart swells with the wings of gentle butterflies caressing it. It's unbelievable, really. He was on top of the aspects in your life that you just lucked out with.

Kunikuzushi cranes his head a bit lower, just so that your noses touch for a moment.

"You're staring," a crack of a smile on his plump lips. His eyebrows raise just a little, catching you in your trance.

"You're a sight for sore eyes, baby.'

"Gross," Kunikuzushi's eye glance away for a moment. You had a special talent for always catching him off-guard like this. You always knew the right words to say to surprise him, pink dusting across his sculpted features. "Have anything to do today?"

You tighten your arms around his neck, humming as you feign a thought. "I was wondering if we could go somewhere."

"Somewhere?" He asks, feeling your hold on him loosen as you favor his hand instead, dragging him to the exit of the set. "Where?"

"Just drive, you'll know when we start getting there."

Kunikuzushi immediately realizes the truth to your words when you said that he'd realize it sooner or later, driving on the side of the familiar mountain lined with steel fences that accentuated the sun high up in the sky. You had fallen asleep in the passenger seat. He scoffs (albeit endeared), and you said you were going to lead the way for him.

His car screeches to a soft halt, blowing dusts of sand into the wind and into the wheels before gently shaking your shoulder to wake you. His voice was low, so soft---knowing that you tend to wake with a short headache if you were woken up so suddenly. It was a side effect that came with recovery from your former illness. Ever since then, he would always care to note every discomfort that would trigger even the slightest twinges of pain to your physical well-being.

"(Name), we're here."

Your eyes flutter open, lined with the hints of sleep as they settle on the familiar shoreline. Your lips open with a yawn, stretching in your seat before unbuckling the seatbelt. You didn't notice when Kuni opened the passenger door for you, as if he teleported in the short amount of time you've waken up from slumber. Your shoes touch the soft ground of sand particles, holding onto his hand for support as you hop from the car.

"It's just as pretty," your lips mumble to the air. The smell of salt and sand brush your senses, calming any tensed nerve you never realized were contracted. The sky was blue. This beach was as beautiful in the day as it was at sunset and sunrise. You realize that you've never hung around this seashore during the day the last two times you were here, and you're glad it happened this time.

One year ago on this exact spot, you had death knock on your door with your bags packed right outside. Your future was filled with blurriness, uncertainty on whether you would ever live to carry on with your dreams at all. The night on the shore was peaceful yet suffocating with all the racing thoughts of worries bouncing off the corners of your mind. But through it all, Kunikuzushi willed himself to stay by your side despite being aware of your potential fate. Despite all of it, he was still there when he could've moved on with this life earlier.

Two years ago on this exact spot, you and Kunikuzushi were mere strangers. A patient and a student of medicine, barely knew anything about each other; bound together by a seemingly hopeless cause: you. It's a wonder to both you and him, how you managed to tie yourselves together as if messily tangled in the red string of fate.

Isn't it pretty to think about? How the both of you are just so entwined like patterns to embroidery? So harmonized, akin to how water flows through each crevice of land like it was shaped for that body of water.

Kunikuzushi was never a man of many words during emotional moments like these, filled with the familiar quiet that was ever-present in your relationship in the three years that you've known him.

"I'm thankful you're here, (name)." He whispers, wrapping his arms around your frame as he buried his face into your neck. Kunikuzushi is a clingy boyfriend, though he does not voice it out. He's grown to yearn for contact with you, moreso when he almost lost you a year ago.

But things had seemed to quiet down, better than he could ever ask for. And you were here, that's all that mattered.

"Happy anniversary, lovely."

© bamdelune 2023. do not repost, translate, plagiarize any of my works without permission, thank you so much! reblogs, notes, and comments are always appreciated!

[bamdelune]

so much has changed about my writing style from when i started here to now, it's crazy 😨

[bamdelune]

Still waiting for the spin off of in hindsight lmaoaoaoa 🛐🛐🛐

trust you WILL get it by this week as our school break starts ❤️‍🩹 i kind of had a brain fart since ihs ended

[bamdelune]

in crimson, there is clarity﹒░ scara x reader

summary ➜ a continuation to the two-part mini series i made, contemplation in crimson. estranged lovers attempt to tighten up some loose ends.

genres/tags/warnings ➜ angst, hurt/comfort and hurt/no comfort themes, cyno tries to help, arguing, both of them suck at feelings, totally different writing style from the last two !!

— and i hope to never see you again.

Your nonchalance was something to be feared. Prolonged periods of silence, a million thoughts behind a tug of your lips upwards, albeit it felt too tight and you were certain anyone who knew better would've saw right through you.

You actively avoided anything that had to do anything with him. Puspa Café became a restricted area within your heart, the gazebo near the Akademiya where fruitful conversations and trivial thoughts passed you by became a deserted arch under the moon, and you had kept all his belongings in a secure box hidden at Kaveh and Alhaitham's house. They understood you, pitied you even.

Akademiya scholars and higher-ups blew their whispered assumptions into the air that you walked in, straying away from you the moment they feel your silent aura filled the room. For someone who was reserved enough as commander, the higher degree of quiet unnerved everyone and anyone. No one ever saw an inch of you anywhere else but your office and home, with only the occasional grocery runs to help satisfy their curiosity.

— get out. my dreams aren't your home.

Despite your diligence to avoid any sort of memory with that man, he somehow worked his way back into your dreams so easily, as if your thoughts was where he belonged. As much as any rational thought tried to push him out, some part of you would always let him in. After all, how could one night of immense hurt compete with the countless days of the warmth you shared.

But nevermind that, everything between the two of you was cold as the gaze you pierced into him, the one filled with the sounds of the broken shards of your heart. The pieces of your love that you tried so hard to pick up right after.

But at night, you can't help but wonder. Wonder if things went differently, the empty and unwrinkled space beside you on the mattress would still be occupied today. Nights were cold, midnights were lonelier, daybreak seemed to be the heaviest.

— when you think of me, i hope you are filled with distate and pure hatred.

"You look like dogshit." Cyno remarks, having opened the big doors to your office. You shoot him a tired glare, eyes raising from the stack of never-ending paperwork that seemed to love landing on the lowest of your days.

You let go of the pen in your hand, freely letting it fall to the wood of your clearly occupied desk. "I'll have you know you're still at work. I don't think you should be talking to a title like that, General Mahamatra," your lips thin into a straight line at his off-hand comment.

Cyno chuckles, though it was quick. "When were you one to care about what I said?"

If there was one thing more pestering than the hefty papers on your workspace, it was Cyno. You cherish him to no end, as a general and as a friend, but he would do good with some kicks to his head at certain times.

"State your business, Cyno. As you can clearly see, I don't have time for this," you gesture to the unorganized mess on your desk, a sarcastic look nursing on your face.

Cyno heaves a sigh, as if he was far too reluctant to delegate this news to you.

"He wants to see y—"

You're quick to interrupt him, with the usual response you started giving a month ago.

"No."

He gives you a knowing look, crossing his arms. At that moment, you knew you won't get anything past him at this point.

"Don't give me that look, General. I have my reasons." Your eyes train back to the words on the paper below your nose, but they don't seem to register into your brain.

He seemed to never waver when it came to asking for your audience during the last thirty days. The first few days absolutely wrecked you behind closed doors, the moment Cyno would leave you alone, with fat salty tears streaming down the corners of your face in pure frustration and hurt. Resolve was what you needed to build and that week, it began to crack with the lines of longing for his voice, his touch, his gaze, and his own presence. You were tempted, using the route that would brush past the location of his confinement the moment you clocked off but resolve began to build up, to your happiness.

The longing didn't come at work. No, it came at home during the wee hours, when the hands of the clock greeted the late numbers on top.

"You say you have your reasons. I'll give you that, yes. But your reason should've ended the moment you filed his arrest report. It's past about you as a commander now, (name), but you as his l—"

"Don't," You give him a hard look, "I'm not his anymore nor is he mine. He's just another one of our criminals, nothing more nor less."

Cyno pokes the inner wall of his cheek, before taking off his headpiece. Your eyes stay on him, with slight curiosity.

"This is a symbolic gesture, (name). I'm taking this off to let you know I'm talking to you as a friend, not as your superior," he says before continuing. "Talk to him. It would do you some good. If you still love him, fine by us but know your limits. If you don't, then that counts as a step to closure. You're a mess, you can barely work in that state. The new recruits might as well piss themselves in training by the dirty glare you give them."

Damn Cyno for being headstrong, never helped with shit.

"Go away." You retort, althought your response came out less impactful than you intended.

"You know I'm right." Cyno puts his headpiece back on before leaving through your office doors, stopping just below the doorframe.

"Room 0101, have Kuia accompany you up until the reception." Just like that, Cyno left.

When you hear the door shut, you bury your face in the palms of your hands as you groan. Today could have gone like any other. Coming into work with at a punctual time, going through mounds of paperworks; project proposals, research permits, and alike, and finally clocking out no later than eight-thirty p.m., but Cyno pressed otherwise. Dread begins to wrap itself tightly around your body, like a monster whispering the worst for your brain to register with a sinister smile.

The day only got longer from there.

— stop looking at me like that, as if i hung the stars up in the sky.

Cyno's subordinate from the Matra patiently waited for you by the time the dawn of night hit the Akademiya, standing on-guard by the elevator going down to the hall of confinement where prisoners were held.

"Kuia," you greet with a polite smile etched on your face, "good evening." She greets you back in the same manner, giving you a small salute on her chest before letting you enter the elevator first.

"I assume Cyno reminded you of a few things about this visit?"

Kuia presses the button going down and stands within a few inches to your right, the captain responds with a nod.

"The General Mahamatra specifically told me that you shall be left alone until the timer went out." You cock your head to the side. That's all? Thank the archons above that he didn't remember to tell Kuia that—

"He also instructed me to standby by the entrance only and avoid accompanying you during your alotted time frame."

Cyno is a headstrong individual, and you thank him greatly for that trait. However, when it comes to petty interests like these that concerned you, he seemed to be more determined to become more stubborn that he usually was.

"Damn guy can't even forget a thing. That's Cyno for you, Captain," you sigh with a soft chuckle at the back of your voice before the elevator opens with a ding.

Kuia stays back as ordered by Cyno prior by the entrance as she grants you clearance to enter a hall. Who knew the Akademiya treated even prisoners like celebrities with the amount of marble material displayed in the flooring. In response, you click a small tch in amusement before striding forward to his cell.

The moment you started getting closer, your heart began to leap out of your chest. Why was this far too nerve-wracking for your liking? You've done this before.

You've known him before.

So why would you have any reason to be nervous, to be afraid of something unsaid and undone? Why do you fear the look of his face when he finally sees you again?

You stride to his room, Block 0101 and lightly knock on the long glass window that had a telephone on its right. Your eyes catch a glimpse of indigo streaked hair as his legs kicked off the bed and stood up to face you.

Your breath catches in your throat, your fists clench and unclench from the fidgeting you were doing. His head is down before he takes the telephone on his end.

His face is finally shown. Despite the slightly prominent bags under his tired eyes, he still looked as charming as ever however, admitting that only proves to be ammunition should anyone hear it.

"Commander," your spine chills at his use of your title, his tone was received with uncertainty on your part. Your mind raced with different questions: Does he hate you? Did the both of you have something, even? Did he still mean anything to you at all?

"Kunukuzushi."

Your tongue tosses his name in your mouth, the pronunciation coming to you almost like muscle memory. He once told you that you pronounced his name slightly better than others, he loved hearing his name ghost your lips.

"How are you?" He asks with a slight smile, you're uncertain whether or not it was an authentic one or not.

How are you?

You've been asked that questions so many times in the span of a month and a half. You always had an answer, automatic to reply.

You've always said you were well.

But now that it was Kunikuzushi's turn to ask that question, you suddenly ponder on it.

How have you been?

Each night you spent alone, skin cold without the familiar warmth of touch. Each morning you woke up to silence instead of the soft greetings of good morning. Each day you dragged yourself to work, riddled with guilt and hurt and everything in between. All because of the man who stands in front of you.

"I'm doing good." Truthfully, what was he going to do if you said otherwise? Comfort you? All the right and the opportunities flew out the window the moment you planned his arrest.

You two contradict each other in the worst way possible, like a paradox that oppose each other in most ways but still find a way to create a crooked harmony of a relationship.

"That's great," was all he replied with.

"Look, let's skip the formalities." You start, crossing your arms and looking at him dead straight in the eyes. "Why do you call me here non-stop? It's a hindrance to work. You're becoming a distraction."

You internally wince at how sharp-edged your words were, you were lying. You would never ever even think of uttering those words to him, knowing Kunikuzushi better. He was better than that.

Kunikuzushi was your favorite distraction.

"You wound me, Commander."

He breaks into a small smile, but his voice is lined with a minor crack caused by the slight shock from your reply.

"I missed you," his tone became serious, punctuating it with a huff of an exhale. It made your heart stop, did he really? Was it... possible?

You don't say anything for a while, eyes anywhere but on his. You would crack under his gaze should you look at him, your resolve would always waver in his presence. He made you feel safe in vulnerability, but did he use that against you at any point behind your back?

"Was any of it real?" Cut to the chase, the quicker you leave, the better.

"What was?"

You roll your lips into your mouth, wondering the best way to word this.

"How much of it was real? Us."

It was his turn to be quiet, you couldn't see it but he fiddled with his fingers in pondering.

"All of it."

"Bullshit," you scoff with a laugh.

"I mean it, you won't believe me but that's the least of my worries."

You search his expression carefully, you couldn't find hints of a joke, that he was playing a sick prank on you. Would it really be fine to believe him?

"Why don't you hate me?"

Kunikuzushi laughs, a genuine one like the answer to your question was humorously obvious.

"Do I really have to spell it out for you?"

Yoy started to get a little frustrated, why can't he just simply tell it like it is? Why couldn't he look you right in the eye and be as blunt like he usually w—

"Because I love you, (name). If it wasn't obvious enough, I'll say it again. I love you, I love you, I love you."

All counts of irritation seep out onto the floor as he spoke, your body tenses less and you find it easier to breathe.

After all that, Kunikuzushi finds it in himself to tie his heart to yours for you to take, for you to own, for yours to love.

You'd sacrifice him to save the world, but he'd burn everything else if it meant he could keep you. He was yours, always and forevermore. Kunikuzushi does not plan on changing that fact, set in stone for eternity.

"Run away with me." He blurts out, almost a whisper with how gentle his tone was, like it was almost pleading for you.

Your automatic answer would've been no like the virtuous leader you are, but irrationality and longing take the forefront of your decision-making. Must he always be this convincing? This choice and everything you door say right after jeopardizes everything you stand for and everyone you lead. Should you say yes, you are estranged from the Akademiya and from the Matra.

But as you look back into the indigo pools of his eyes, all thoughts seem to quiet down. This could work, this could give you the life that was ripped away from you by your own actions in the past.

Your hand seemed to come alive on its own and reaches for the set of keys that unlock the cells of the hall of confinement, fiddling through each one with the familiar pattern of Kunikuzushi's cell before twisting it in place into the keyhole.

You shouldn't be doing this. Hell, you should have never come down here in the first place.

The lock clicks free and Kunikuzushi feels the air of the door swinging into his face, brushing his weaves of hair softly before he truly comes face-to-face with you. Your heart thumps violently in your chest, the course of actions you've just done—treason, to be exact, twisted your system into adrenaline rush.

"Don't make me regret this." You shoot him a look.

"You won't regret anything, lover."

© bamdelune 2023 — do not copy/plagiarize my works. reposting/translating without permission is not allowed.

[bamdelune]

swear i'll finish this by tomorrow, trust! i am back for this amount of time before school starts dropkicking me in the throat ❤️‍🩹