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21 | She/They On a hiatus because of broken laptop. Be back shortly.

[satori-runa]

—Masterlist here

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

she/they — 21 y.o

multifandom writer

MDNI please.

Pressure blog — @pretzel-box

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Fandoms I write for:

— Genshin Impact

—Honkai Star Rail

—Resident Evil

—Devil May Cry

—Mouthwashing

—Homicipher

—Forsaken

[— will add more in future]

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Requests are closed.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

[satori-runa]

✄------ LIGHTS, CAMERA, REBOOT

-----------summary: In the daytime, university student. And in the evening a famous streamer. And inbetween, the roommate of someone that is perhaps not much different from you.

----- tags: sebastian x reader, streamer au, roommate au, enemies to lovers, this is an alternative version of the original

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"Anyways, so I dumped him." The air was filled with high-class perfume as Pinkie sprayed herself greedily in the scent, almost making you choke on the fumes. "It was fun while it lasted. But seriously, he was a complete idiot." It took a moment before you were able to follow her words, since the cloud of perfume invaded your nose and made you cough. It wasn't long till you rushed to the window, pulling it open in great hurry and lean over to grasp some fresh air. "Perhaps he is just a bit dense?" There was no need to turn around, to see that Pinkie already shook her head, blonde locks swaying at the movement. "No matter what he is, he remains an awful choice." Dating never was easy, especially if your so called partner is Pinkie. But luckily for you, your role was merely to be her best friend and wingman. You two were always the perfect duo of popular iconic it-girl and the introverted mysterious side-character, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

Aside of that, you had other business to attend to and a romance life would not fit into it.

"Well, clocks already past seven, I should hurry home." Your voice made your friend turn around, an expression of shock on her face. "Already?" Before you could reply, she already had her arms wrapped around you, pulling you close to her chest. The new heels she got recently made her rather tall. "Fine I guess. It was more fun, when we shared this dorm room. My new roommate is kinda...weird. But whatever, text me when you arrive safely, alright honey?" She already grabbed your coat. Despite her overall persona, she still had a deep soft spot for you. "And tell him I said hi." A smile breaks out on your face as she mentioned him. "I wouldn't even dare to look in his direction, Pink. He is an natural born asshole, trust me."

Both of you moved towards the door and Pinkie was so kind to hold it open for you. "You know what they say, it is a sign that they like you." "As if." Both of you had to laugh and after a quick goodbye you were already on your way. There was nothing more serene than walking in the evening during sunset with your favourite playlist in your ear, especially when it was a safe space like the campus. For a short moment, you considered to take it chill and slowly stroll back to your shared appartment. Your roommate, the so called asshole, wouldn't miss you anyways. In fact you could even imagine him celebrating your absence by eating that cake slice you had stored in the fridge yesterday. The thought alone made a blood vessle pop in your head out of sheer anger and a small part of you cursed his existence. Sebastian Solace is truly an asshole. One might wonder why someone as delicate as you moved together with a psychopath such as him but the answer was easy. Administration issues and the lack of proof that you applied for the student dorms in time. Apparently it was not self-explaining to get one, when you enroll for university and that you had to apply for one. In that matter, they kicked you out in the first week from the dorm because another student took over your part of the room. Pinkie happened to be so kind and found a quick solution though. And the solution was Sebastian who looked for a roommate. By now, you were not surprised that he looked for a roommate back then. He wasn't really a sunshine.

It was no point in getting angry already. Your evening was still going incredibly well. Ping. "Pressured_Solace started to stream. Click here to watch." The notification surprised you, since your finger was in the middle of selecting another song in the playlist. Before you knew it, you joined as one as his viewers. Pressured_Solace was a faceless gaming streamer that quickly took over the internet. Most of his charms come from his interactions with his fans and his authentic game reactions, but many also adore the mystery behind him. He was truly born for this, and you were quite lucky to call him your personal comfort space.

"Look who showed up as well," The chat broke out in digital screams as his voice teased you specifically. The imagine of him being close to his microphone and half whispering such a sentence in a rather affectionate voice certainly does something to a person. "Don't mind me being early for our little session. I couldn't help myself." The layout of his stream revealed that he started a round of kahoot with his viewers, apparently a trivia about the recent game he played: Hadal Crossing.

You remember being caught off guard as he openly played such a cozy game on a lifestream. It was quite the chance from his usual genre. And a small part knew that it was your doing. You mentioned the game in a lifestream before and joked greatly about how he would like it as well. Who doesn't love a good game where you take care of ocean animals in an underwater station?

"Jellycatfished is here!!" "Is that the real one??" "Omg all those jelly fakers begging for donos again, help LOL" The chat exploded as the trivia fell into the background, overshadowed by yours truly. A grin spread across your lips as you couldn't help yourself but type into the chat. "Not even waiting for me? I am almost at my setup." It was true, you almost reached the front door already, while skillfully focusing on the phone in your hand. "Better be done with the trivia before I join the stream for real." "Sure thing, Jel." His smooth voice rang through your headphones and you started to hurry even more. While you quickly unlocked the front door, struggling with finding the right key, and pulling the shoes off your feet, Solace was still entertaining his fans.

"Yeah, I think I fixed it..." he mumbled into his microphone. "Chat is it fixed?" The sound of items shuffling around followed and the clatter of porcelain on wood. Then complete silence. It took a minute for him to speak up again, propbably leaning very close. "Test, test, 1-2, 1-2. Can everybody hear me?" You couldn't see the chat in your hurry but you could imagine all those avtively chatting people spaming Solace. "Have a new microphone, sponsored by Blacksite tec. I know- I knooow. Solace how dare you to do product placement." He was making fun of himself, laughing freely in your ears as you threw your bag on your bed and swung your body on the gaming chair. "What can I say, my charm alone broke my old one. Perhaps my voice is too powerful." His joke made you break out in a small giggle and while your PC started, you were kind enough to press the like button. "Guess our charming guest is also agreeing." It was the classic Solace, with his sassy yet funny vibe.

Your pc has started in the meantime, launching the newest discord update as you moved over to Twitch. The cursor moved across the screen as you switched the stream to your computer and hovered with the cursor over the donation button, selecting a fitting ammount and a suited message.

"The mic is not the only thing you can break with your voice." Solace got quiet as the donation message poped up, an automatic voice reading it out loud while the screen showed his little animation for people that donated. The number 500 in big blue letters. The next thing you knew was that Solace broke out into laughter, probably shaking his head and gasping at your usual shenanigans. "Stop sending me so many donations every time and just join me, silly jellyfish." His words were playful, almost affectionate as he already started a discord call. He didn't knew but these small details made your heart flutter. Knowing that your favourite streamer had noticed you, will always feel like a personal win in life. "But seriously Jelly, thank you for the donation." The money was in good hands with him. After all, if he doesn't return your donation, he would use it for his ongoing collaboration with some local pet shelters. "I appreciate your loyalty, my dear. But one might question if you try to buy my loyalty."

Instead of typing, you finally joined the call, ready to join his stream as a fellow streamer. "Maybe I am? How else would I get the attention of the coolest streamer online?" A quick moment of embarassment overcame you as you wondered if this was too much or too cringe. It was too late to take it back. But Solace only chuckled into his microphone, and you could almost hear the smile in his voice as he replied, "You do not need to buy my affection," Now you were able to hear it fully, that adorable smile as he spoke. "You always had it, Jellycatfished."

Jellycatfished was on the same level as him, perhaps a bit lower. Pressured_Solace ranked number one but Jelly was always a close second. What started as rivals became friends and it didn't took long for Solace and you to make it a regular thing. Your little world mixed with his, and you couldn't say it in his face, but you deeply enjoyed it. Jelly was a whole different person in comparison to your real you, but it was also an escape from your daily life stress. And Solace was your comfort. It still feels a bit surreal for you, but your collaboration with Solace was real.

For a moment you missed how the chat exploded, a flurry of emotions and comments. You could feel a blush creeping up your cheeks, even though you knew he couldn't see you. This was always the magic in your streams, you never had to worry about apperances or beauty standarts. The fun was always the main focus and you loved every single minute of it.

[satori-runa]

—Vanya Headcanons [Heartopia]

Just a short collection of headcanons on how Vanya would be in a relationship.

Vanya and you started to date during the summer season.

You took fishing lessons from him, and the multiple meetings made you fall for each other rather quickly. He was the one who asked you out on smaller dates, and you were the one asking him to be official one day during a candlelight dinner in town.

You two have a cute dynamic with each other. Vanya would be the calm and sweet one and keep you grounded if you aren't already matching him. Most of the time his presence greatly relaxes you.

While he's out fishing, he would sometimes text you cute messages, reminding you to stay hydrated and take breaks. Occasionally he sneaks in a cute picture of himself too. Meanwhile you would make sure to cook a hearty meal for when he would return.

His love language would include quality time and physical touch (mostly in private). If he wasn't occupied with fishing or teaching other people, he would be right at your side, spending the day with you. If you would cook, he's already hugging you from behind, chin on your shoulder as he gently enjoys your presence.

It is somewhat impossible to have an argument with Vanya as he is very patient and doesn't get upset if you happen to slip with your words or get emotional. In fact, he had a soothing way of handling things and every issue is mended before you even realized it.

Vanya his favourite things about you could fill a whole list. If you ask him why he loves you, he would casually run down every point with a gentle smile while you're melting from the cuteness alone. The main thing that made him fall for you, was your very passionate excitement about learning how to fish from him. These small encounters really had an impact on him.

Lots of communication in this relationship. He would always ask for your opinion, your 6 your wishes. You look down? He doesn't brush it off, no. He instantly is next to you with your favourite hot drink and is gently asking you what is wrong. He would also make sure that you two are always on one page, even at smaller things. You always decide on date ideas together thanks to that.

[satori-runa]

✄------NOT FIRST BUT NEVER LAST [PART 6]

-----------summary: You're Enjins best friend who helps him get together with his dream girl. Too bad that this girl isn't you.

----- tags: enjin x reader x tamsy, female reader, slight ooc enjin for this, fluff and comfort somehow

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It felt like life slowly started to settle back into something familiar, and with that came a quiet kind of peace you hadn’t noticed you were missing.

The friendship between you and Enjin found its way back, little by little, even if it meant both of you kept avoiding the things that had broken it in the first place. Somehow, without you really noticing, the roles had changed.

The love you once felt for him didn’t vanish all at once. It faded over time, turning dull and distant until you could almost tell yourself it had just been a phase. The longer you thought about it, the more you understood that he wouldn’t have been right for you, that he could never see you the way you once hoped he would. A small part of you still hurt whenever you admitted that to yourself, but lying to yourself felt easier than reopening old wounds. Especially when they just started to fully heal.

Then there was Tamsy, filling the quiet spaces with his calm presence, always close enough to catch you when your thoughts got heavy. On days like this, you found yourself wishing you could just fall in love with him instead. Life, however, wasn’t that kind. He was everything Enjin wasn’t, and sometimes that was exactly what you needed, if you ignored the small moments where something about Tamsy felt… off. It was hard to explain. At times he seemed a little too watchful, a little too attached, but whenever you thought you had figured it out, he would return to normal, gentle and steady, like nothing had ever been wrong.

Those thoughts lingered with you longer than you wanted to admit.

It was one of those quiet afternoons where nothing urgent demanded attention for once, no missions, no alarms, no forced teamwork. Just you and Enjin sitting on the steps outside the base, the sun low enough to cast everything in warm gold and for a second the world looked really beautiful. Enjin looked ethereal as well at the moment. He had his jacket half-off, sleeves rolled up, posture relaxed in a way that still surprised you sometimes. Hair looked like liquid gold bathed in the sun. This version of him felt… earned.

You watched him for a moment before speaking.

“Hey,” you said, trying to sound casual but failing hard. “Can I ask you something about Tamsy?” Enjin blinked and turned his head toward you, a cigarette hanging between his lips. “About… Tamsy?” “Yeah. You two work together a lot lately.” You shrugged. “What do you think of him?”

For a second, he genuinely looked confused, brows knitting together as if he were trying to solve a puzzle that didn’t quite make sense. Asking him about another guy like this was anything but comfortable, especially since he didn't know in what direction this conversation would go. “What do I think of him?” he repeated slowly. You just nodded, waiting for his answer already. “As a person. Teammate. Whatever.” He leaned back on his hands, eyes drifting forward instead of looking at you. “I mean… he’s capable. Calm. Reliable.” A pause in between, one that should have told you something. “Kind of annoyingly perfect sometimes. Dudes weird in his own way too.”

You snorted, a laugh escaping your lips. “That’s one way to put it.” Enjin smirked, then hesitated. “Why? Did he do something?” “No,” you said quickly. “No, nothing like that. I was just curious.”

“Hm.” He hummed, clearly unconvinced, but didn’t push at all, even if you expected him to. Enjin was insanely good at reading you at this moment, if you were honest, but at the same time he failed to conceal himself. “He’s… good with you,” he added after a moment, voice carefully neutral. “I’ll give him that.”

Something in the way he said it made your chest tighten and you glanced at him. “You say that like it bothers you.” Now it finally was noticeable to you as well, his mood dropped. He stiffened before taking another drag of his cigarette. “What? No,” he said too fast, then sighed. “Okay, maybe a little. But that’s on me, not him.”

You tilted your head. “Why’s that?”

Enjin looked at you then, really looked, and whatever he was about to say seemed to catch in his throat. He scratched the back of his neck instead, embarrassed. It was a rare display to see him so vulnerable. “Because I’m not used to… sharing your attention, I guess.”

That surprised you enough to laugh softly. “That’s kind of honest for you.”

“Yeah, well,” he muttered, “don’t get used to it.” You smiled, leaning closer without thinking, shoulder brushing his. He didn’t move away. In fact, he shifted just enough to make the contact easier. His warmth was very inviting.

“I don’t think Tamsy means any harm,” you said gently. “He just… cares in his own way.” “I know,” Enjin replied. His jaw tightened for half a second before he relaxed again. “Doesn’t mean I have to like how close he gets.” You looked at him, amused. “You’re jealous.” He scoffed. “Of him? Please.” “Mhm.” “…Okay,” he admitted quietly. “A little.”

The admission hung between you, fragile but real. Then he suddenly smiled, it was genuine and for a second something in your chest started to feel different. “But if you’re asking because you’re worried,” he added, nudging you lightly with his elbow, “you don’t have to be. I trust you.”

That did something to you. Something steady and dangerous, throwing your feelings out of balance for a split second. You exhaled, resting your head briefly against his shoulder. “Thanks.”

Enjin froze for exactly one heartbeat, then carefully lifted his arm, letting it rest around you without pulling. He was simply there, enjoying a calm moment.

“Anytime,” he said, voice low.

And while he stared ahead like everything was normal, his thoughts were anything but. Because no matter how calm he acted, one thing was painfully clear to him now, Tamsy became his official rival.

[satori-runa]

✄------NOT FIRST BUT NEVER LAST [PART 5]

-----------summary: You're Enjins best friend who helps him get together with his dream girl. Too bad that this girl isn't you.

----- tags: enjin x reader x tamsy, angst, female reader, one-sided feelings, slight ooc enjin for this, fluff and comfort

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Perhaps there was reason to believe you had died. After all, an angel stood right in front of you, framed in radiant light, wrapped in a warmth that felt unreal to a person living on the ground. For a fleeting moment, you simply stared.

Then your vision sharpened.

The angel had shifted into Tamsy.

His silky hair was loose, falling softly around his face, and the sight of it almost fooled you into thinking this was some kind of mercy dream. He noticed you stirring and immediately leaned closer, fingers gentle as they brushed through your tangled bed hair, careful not to tug.

“Good morning,” he said quietly, as if his voice alone might be enough to keep you anchored in your sleep state. “You’ve been out for two days. Don’t try to move too much.” Two days…

The weight of that hadn’t even fully settled when a low, unmistakable snore cut through the moment. You turned your head slightly and froze.

Enjin was sprawled out on the other bed, boots kicked off, arms thrown loosely over the edges of the bed. His face was slack with sleep, brows unknit for once, so unguarded it almost startled you. For a split second, the thought crossed your mind that maybe you had it wrong. Maybe he was the one who’d nearly died. He certainly looked that way.

Tamsy followed your gaze and let out a small, tired huff. “He refused to leave,” he said. “Didn’t sleep properly until a few hours ago.” Before you could respond, a sharp buzz echoed through the infirmary. Tamsy’s expression shifted instantly, duty bleeding through concern. He checked the choker, jaw tightening.

“I have to go,” he said, already straightening. His hand lingered on yours for just a moment longer than necessary before pulling away with a sigh. “Enjin will probably stay and Eishia will return soon as well. I’ll be back as soon as I can too.”

And then he was gone, light fading with him, the door sliding shut far too softly. The room felt different without him as if he took all the radiance with him, it was funny.

It took a few minutes before Enjin stirred, drawn awake not by sound but instinct. He sat up slowly, rubbing a hand down his face before his eyes landed on you.

The relief there was immediate, and just as quickly buried. “You’re awake,” he said. His voice was low, steady, but closer now you could hear the strain beneath it. He stood and crossed the room without hesitation, stopping beside your bed like it was the only place he was meant to be.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then Enjin reached out, hesitated, just barely, and adjusted the blanket around your shoulders instead. His movements were careful, like you were something fragile he was afraid to mishandle. And perhaps you were exactly that in his eyes. He messed up a lot in the past weeks, so he tried to get things right starting now. “Don’t sit up,” he murmured when you shifted. “You collapsed hard. Eisha said you pushed past what your body could take.” There was no teasing. No sharp remark that he usually throws your way. Just concern, raw and unfiltered.

He fetched water, holding the cup himself, helping you drink slowly. His thumb stayed braced against the rim, steadying it and you. When you were done, he set it aside and pressed a cool cloth to your temple, eyes never leaving your face. “I thought…” He stopped, jaw tightening. “Never mind.” But the silence stretched, and the words came anyway. “I thought I lost you.”

The admission hung between you, heavy with everything left unsaid, the mission, the argument before it, the distance neither of you had known how to cross. Enjin swallowed, then finally met your eyes.

“There’s still things we haven’t fixed,” he said quietly. “I know that.” His hand shifted, resting near yours on the mattress, not touching, but close enough to feel the warmth. “But right now, all that matters is that you’re here. So let me take care of you. Just… this once, don’t fight me on it.”

You didn’t answer right away.

For a moment, you just watched his hand, how close it was, how careful he was being, like even now he was afraid of crossing some invisible line that you had set up. Your chest felt tight, not from the injury, but from everything sitting between you. You missed your best friend but issues can't just disappear in thin air.

Then you exhaled. “…Okay,” you said softly. “I won’t.”

The tension in his shoulders eased instantly, like he’d been holding his breath since you woke up. Enjin let out a quiet sound that might’ve been a laugh if it hadn’t been so shaky, and only then did his hand finally move, fingers brushing yours properly this time. “Good,” he murmured. “Because you’re terrible at taking care of yourself.”

There it was. He always had the skill to make difficult times feel more easy.

He adjusted your pillows, grumbling under his breath the whole time, scolding you for pushing yourself too hard, for not calling out sooner, for scaring everyone, for scaring him. He brought you food you barely had the appetite for and sat there patiently while you picked at it, cracking dry jokes about infirmary meals tasting like punishment rather than nourishment.

At some point, without even realizing how it happened, he kicked his boots off again and climbed onto the bed beside you. The space was narrow, but neither of you complained. He propped himself up against the headboard, arm bent, and hesitated only a second before guiding you closer.

“Careful,” he said, softer now. “You good?”

You nodded and shifted, settling your head against his arm. He stiffened for half a heartbeat, then relaxed, arm curling around you like it had done a hundred times before everything went wrong between you two.

“You remember,” Enjin said after a while, staring at the ceiling, “that time we went to the one mission together, where a trash beast got us trapped on a roof?”

You huffed a quiet laugh. “You mean when you insisted you had a plan?” “I did have a plan,” he protested. “I just didn’t know it wasn't going to work.” “And then they had to send a second team.” “It was fun anyways.”

You laughed properly this time, the sound small but real, and Enjin glanced down at you with something like relief written all over his face. “God,” he said quietly. “You laughed like that back then too.

You talked about stupid things, inside jokes no one else would ever get, failed missions that shouldn’t have gone as wrong as they did, the awful music Enjin used to play just to annoy you. He teased you for stealing his jacket years ago and never giving it back. You reminded him that he’d pretended not to notice.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “Didn’t wanna ask for it back.” Your fingers curled lightly into his sleeve without thinking.

For a little while, it felt like you were back there, before the fights, before the distance, before everything cracked. Just the two of you sharing space, breathing in sync, pretending the world outside the infirmary didn’t exist. And you laughed about everything that you shared.

Enjin’s voice dropped eventually, words slowing as exhaustion crept back in. His thumb brushed absently against your arm, grounding, protective. “Get some rest,” he murmured. “I’m not going anywhere.” And this time, when you closed your eyes, you believed him.

A few hours passed, it was late evening and the door to the dark infirmary room opened. The light from the hallway spilled into the room as Tamsy stepped closer to the bed, throwing a glance at you laying in Enjin's arm and something in him started to make him feel very bitter. Yet, there's not much he could do at the moment, so he gently brushes a strand of hair out of your face and leaves quietly for today.

[satori-runa]

✄------NOT FIRST BUT NEVER LAST [PART 4]

-----------summary: You're Enjins best friend who helps him get together with his dream girl. Too bad that this girl isn't you.

----- tags: enjin x reader x tamsy, angst, female reader, one-sided feelings, slight ooc enjin for this, graphic mentions of injures and blood

part 1 / part 2 / part 3

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The next week turned into a quiet, relentless competition, one that only existed inside Enjin’s head but he wouldn't admit it.

In fact, he convinced himself that it wasn't pure jealousy that filled him but concern for you. But every time he saw you standing beside Tamsy, talking so easily as if you were friends for years, something sharp hurts him in his chest. He really couldn't understand why he had to suffer this much. He wasn't able to see any other woman in the same light as you and he didn't even dare to waste a single thought on someone else, when you are right there in front of him.

So many things and Enjin still wasn't sure what to do, to get you back. Why apologizing didn't rewind everything back to the better times. And how Tamsy, calm, unbothered and never bragging, somehow made it worse by merely existing. And those feelings followed him even to the actual missions that also occupied his life.

Team Akuta and Team Eager were assigned patrol near No Man’s Land, where trash beasts had been reported migrating closer to inhabited routes. Nothing that they couldn't handle. It was dangerous, unpredictable work but everyone in the teams were experienced enough to not die right away. Yet, just like the boss always used to say, such missions require trust and team work, a motto you hold in high regard.The kind of trust and teamwork that Enjin kept sabotaging without realizing it.

When the vehicles were ready, Enjin didn’t even hesitate. As not team captain but also driver, he took the liberty to decide that you join him. “You’re riding with me,” he said, already tossing his gear into the

trunk. “That’s your spot. You always call shotgun.” The words felt off in your head. You know he tried to fix things but he did an awful job at respecting you so far.

You paused, hand still on your bag strap.

Before you could respond, Tamsy spoke up, tone easy. “You’re welcome to come with us instead,” he said, gesturing toward the other car where Delmon was already settling in. “It’s quieter. You mentioned you didn’t sleep much.” Tamsy was truly the opposite of Enjin, pointing out your condition and comfort. There was no challenge in his voice unlike in Enjins for some reason. And you realize, he wasn't demanding it but voicing out an option for you to take, one that is in your benefit.

The act of pure kindness made Enjin’s jaw tightened. “She’s on my team,” he snapped, too fast. He did notice his own tone and shifted it slightly “Makes more sense tactically.” You felt it then, the pressure. Not concern, not teamwork. Ownership disguised as logic that he made up in his own mind.

“I can decide where I sit,” you said calmly.

The silence that followed was heavy.

In the end, you chose Enjin’s car, not because he was right, but because the look on his face made you tired and there was no room for any childish fights. Like refusing would start something you didn’t have the energy to fight before the mission even began and you knew that Enjin could go days being upset.

The ride was very stiff, thanks to the road and the people on it. Enjin talked too much, pointing out landmarks, recounting old missions you’d both been on, laughing at memories like they were proof of your deep connection. You responded when necessary, eyes fixed on the road ahead. It was like satisfying a little child.

From the rearview mirror, you caught the view of the other car, barely making out Tamsy and the others. He didn’t look upset or at least that's what you thought. If anything, he looked concerned in the tiny mirror image. Perhaps the one sided rivalry might go down if Enjin notices that Tamsy isn't interested in a fight, or at least you hoped so. But to your demise, it only sparked the flame of competition more.

No Man’s Land was worse than expected.

The air was thick with dust and rot, the ground unstable beneath your boots. Trash beasts crawled out from places ,covered with trash, they shouldn’t have fit, shrieking metal-on-metal cries that echoed too loudly for comfort. Yet nothing you couldn't handle as a united front.

Formations were called and Enjin kept you close. Certainly too close. “Stay behind me,” he ordered, grabbing your arm when you tried to move into position. “I’ve got you.” “I can handle myself,” you snapped, yanking free. Tamsy noticed immediately, adjusting his position to cover the blind spot Enjin had left open. He didn’t comment but just compensated instead.

That was the difference.

The rivalry escalated in small, stupid ways. Enjin cut across Tamsy’s lines, rushing enemies he didn’t need to, barking commands no one had assigned him. And Tamsy adapted silently every time, shifting to keep the rest of the team safe. You tried to focus, but having Enjin mingle with your job every five seconds was harder than expected and you tried ignoring the tension that was coiling tighter with every clash.

Zanka was occupied with Riyo on the south, Enjin and Tamsy were competitive over the north side. Delmon took over the east. And somehow you ended alone on the west, further away from them all after Enjin commanded you away from the danger, thinking the west side of the battlefield is still safe. Then it happened.

A beast burst from the debris at an angle Enjin hadn’t checked, too focused on outdoing, not enough on watching. Tamsy shouted a warning, voice sharp and raised for once.

You turned…Too late.

Something slammed into you, claws tearing across your side as you hit the ground hard. Pain exploded through your ribs, knocking the breath clean out of you. Your vision blurred as dust filled your mouth. “-Shit!” Enjin’s voice cracked, panic bleeding through as he saw the display from further away.

The pain was almost paralysing but giving in now meant death for you and this was something you cannot allow. So you push yourself up, feeling the probably broken rip in your chest, and grab your jinki tight to launch a defensive attack. You only had to endure it till someone would come.

You forced your hands beneath you and pushed, muscles shaking violently as pain lanced through your torso. Something shifted where it shouldn’t have. A broken rib, maybe more. And your vision went black at the edges, but you snarled through it, teeth bared as you dragged yourself upright. The trash beast lunged again while you met it head-on.

Your jinki ignited in your grip, humming violently as you swung with everything you had left. Rage poured into the strike, months of swallowed words, jealousy, betrayal, fear. Each movement sent agony screaming through your body, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t. You carved into the beast, tearing through metal and rot alike, letting out a raw, broken shout that tore from your throat. While it reeled back, you staggered forward.

Blood soaked your side, slick and warm, dripping onto the ground beneath your boots. Your legs trembled, vision flickering, but you raised your weapon again. One more hit. Just one more.

The beast surged at the same moment you did. And you swore, the time slowed.

Your muscles are locked. Your breath hitched. The strength holding you upright vanished all at once, like a switch flipped deep inside your body and you cursed yourself for being so weak. You almost had it. Your weapon slipped from numb fingers and the last thing you heard was Enjin shouting your name before the world turned black.

[satori-runa]

✄------NOT FIRST BUT NEVER LAST [PART 3]

-----------summary: You're Enjins best friend who helps him get together with his dream girl. Too bad that this girl isn't you.

---- tags: enjin x reader x tamsy, angst, female reader, one-sided feelings, slight ooc enjin for this, reader and enjin have a heart to heart talk again, or the closest thing related to it, This snowballed a lot.

PART 1 AND PART 2 HERE

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There was something oddly domestic about Tamsy, the way he carefully ground the coffee beans between his palms. His movements were unhurried, practiced, almost tender as if he was making sure that the coffee beans itself felt comfortable in his touch. His eyes stayed focused on what he was doing, gentle yet intent, and you found yourself watching longer than necessary. Maybe you’d simply never noticed him before…Enjin had always been too loud and way too present, overshadowing everyone else the moment he entered your field of vision.

“We’ve been quite lucky, hm?” Tamsy hummed, still working the grinder as his gaze flicked up to meet yours. You nodded, a half-smile tugging at your lips. He’d invited you back to his room after a rough mission, noticing your foul mood before you’d even realized how visible it had become. You were supposed to go with Enjin. Instead, you’d chosen distance, space to breathe, to think, to let the fractures in your friendship settle instead of splintering further. You told yourself it was the right choice.

The love you’d once carried so carefully had curdled into something heavier. Bitterness crept where warmth used to be.

And Tamsy had seen it immediately. He hadn’t pushed or pried. He’d simply talked to you, slow and patient, until conversation came easily again. Somewhere along the way, he’d begun to fill the empty space Enjin left behind, not as a replacement, but as something new. A new kind of best friend.

“We sure are,” you replied softly. The coffee beans had been a miracle, really, sealed tight, discarded from the Sphere like they were nothing. You’d spotted them among the trash and felt, for a fleeting second, like the universe had taken pity on you. Brewing, however, had never been your strength. Tamsy had stepped in without making a show of it, knowledge worn lightly, never once bragged about.

He was everything Enjin wasn’t.

Calm. Thoughtful. Present. Perhaps even more pretty.

He listened, not just to your words, but to what lingered underneath them. For the first time, someone treated your emotions like something fragile instead of inconvenient. Like they deserved care.

“I’ve got milk and sugar if it’s too bitter,” Tamsy said, pulling you from your thoughts. “But try it as it is first. The aroma should be right.” You did. The mug was warm in your hands, chosen by you, for once. The coffee was strong, rich, almost grounding but you barely had time to register the taste before a sharp sting brushed your lip. You flinched. Of course you were too rushed with the drinking and you managed to burn yourself.

“It’s not that bad,” you said quickly. “Just a small burn.” Yet Tamsy didn’t answer right away. He stepped closer instead.The space between you shrank, his presence suddenly more noticeable and the quiet heat of him, the faint scent of coffee clinging to his clothes. His eyes searched your face, lingering on your mouth with open concern. “May I?”

You nodded before you could overthink it.

He reached out slowly, careful, his thumb brushing just beneath your lip. The touch was light, testing, as if afraid to hurt you more. His skin was warm. Too warm suddenly. And your breath hitched despite yourself.

He leaned in slightly, close enough that you could feel it, his focus, his attention narrowing to just you. His thumb pressed gently against your lip, wiping away the smallest trace of spilled coffee. The contact lingered a second longer than necessary. And somehow, you didn’t pull away.

Your thoughts tangled though, guilt, confusion, something softer threading through it all. Enjin’s face flickered briefly in your mind before fading beneath the quiet gravity of the moment. But in front of you Tamsy’s eyes softened as he examined the burn, his thumb still resting there, grounding and intimate. His face was closed now. Close enough that you noticed the way his lashes cast faint shadows against his cheeks. Close enough that the room felt smaller, warmer, suspended in something unspoken. You didn't have this with Enjin.

Your heart beat faster as he withdrew his hand slowly as if realizing the shift a second too late. The space between you returned, but the tension didn’t dissolve, in fact, it stayed, coiled and waiting, settling into your chest with unfamiliar weight.

You stared down into your coffee, while your hands were now unsteady. But nothing had happened. And yet, everything felt different.

The space between you and Tamsy had barely settled when the choker around your neck warmed faintly before starting to ring. Your breath hitches as the sudden noise caught you off guard. Tamsy noticed immediately. His eyes flicked to your throat, understanding dawning without a word spoken. The room felt too quiet all of a sudden, the earlier warmth replaced by something tight and fragile. A call like this was usually a mission or…well Enjin. And both felt uncomfortable in your opinion.

You lifted your hand to the choker, thumb hovering for a second longer than necessary before accepting the call. “Hey,” Enjin’s voice came through, lower than usual. Not joking for once. Serious, but still unmistakably him. “Are you busy right now?” You swallowed. “A little. Why?” There was a pause. You could hear him breathe on the other end, steadying himself. “I… I was wondering if we could meet up later. Tonight. Just us. I really need to talk to you.” Something in his tone made your chest ache. Not hope but pure regret.

“I messed up,” he added quietly. “And I don’t wanna pretend I didn’t.” You didn’t answer right away. Tamsy shifted beside you, slow and deliberate, giving you space without leaving. His hand brushed your sleeve, grounding. When you looked at him, his expression was gentle, no pressure, no jealousy, just concern. He nodded once, small and reassuring and you felt thankful for his silent support.

“I’ll be here,” Tamsy murmured softly, not meant for the call. “Whatever you need.” You closed your eyes briefly, then exhaled. “Okay, Enjin. We can talk.” Relief flooded his voice instantly. “Thank you. My room. I’ll- I’ll make it right. I promise.”

The call ended. Silence returned, heavier than before. Tamsy didn’t move closer again. Didn’t try to reclaim the moment that had almost been something else. He simply poured himself another cup of coffee and offered you one without a word. When your fingers brushed this time, it was accidental and both of you noticed.

Later, when you stood to leave, he walked you to the door. “You don’t owe anyone clarity tonight,” he said gently. “Not even yourself.” You nodded, throat tight, and left before you could unravel.

Enjin’s room smelled like wax and flowers instead of the usual cigarette smoke, the leather and the scent of burned wood.

Candles lined nearly every surface, tables, shelves, the floor itself, casting warm, flickering light across the walls. It was a contrast to how you usually knew his room and it showed that he wasn't unprepared in front of you. No, He stood in the center of it all, stiff and nervous, holding a single rose like it might bite him if he held it wrong. You recognized it instantly, fresh, vibrant, and more than just expensive. Something that would’ve cost him more than he ever willingly spent on anything that wasn’t destructive. In fact, Enjin could have given you the sphere itself.

For you. He looked up when you entered, eyes lighting up with relief that bordered on painful. “You came,” he said softly but you didn’t step closer.

He swallowed and ran a hand through his hair, pacing once before stopping himself. “I know this probably looks stupid. Or too much. Or both. But I needed you to know I’m serious.” For a second you wondered if he accidentally invited the wrong person or would open his mouth and say this is for his new girlfriend and need your opinion.

He held the rose out toward you, arm slightly shaking. “I was an asshole,” he said bluntly. “I didn’t notice you pulling away. I didn’t listen. I let someone else decide what mattered in my life and I didn’t even realize what I was losing.”

His voice cracked, not dramatically, but real. “You were always there,” he continued. “Always. And I took that for granted because I thought you’d never leave. That you didn’t need the same things other people did.” Your fingers curled at your sides. He couldn't seriously thought that this made it better. “I see it now,” he said quickly, eyes searching your face. “I see you. I should’ve a long time ago.” He stepped closer, hopeful. Too hopeful for your taste.

“I broke things off,” he added, like it was the final piece that would fix everything. “I told her I couldn’t keep pretending. I want us back. I want you back.” The rose hovered between you like some desperate plea and he waited between all those flickering candles to have you back.

You stared at the flower, then at him, heart pounding, not with relief, but with confusion. With exhaustion. With something wounded and wary. There were thousand feelings filling you but you weren't sure if happiness would be among them. “I’m glad you realized,” you said quietly.

His shoulders loosened instantly, a smile threatening to form. “Yeah? I'm glad. I got us a bottle to cele-”

“But that doesn’t mean I’m okay,” you continued. The smile faltered. “I don’t just snap back into place because you noticed,” you said, voice steady but aching. “I don’t unfeel everything that happened just because you’re ready now.” He frowned, hurt seeping through. “I thought… I mean, I’m trying. I did everything right this time.” “And I’m tired,” you said softly. “Tired of being something you only fight for when you’re scared of losing it.”

The rose lowered slowly. The candles kept burning, wax pooling at their bases, melting quietly as the space between you stretched, no longer filled with anger, but with the weight of the blank truth displayed between you two.

“Is it because of him?” He finally asked. He wasn't blind, he knew Tamsy was glued to you lately, taking his spot without remorse and it made him sick. And slowly, for the first time, he knew how you felt when you saw him with the other girl, all his flings and his flirts. And the worst thing is, he couldn't blame you.

[satori-runa]

✄------NOT FIRST BUT NEVER LAST [PART 2]

-----------summary: You're Enjins best friend who helps him get together with his dream girl. Too bad that this girl isn't you.

---- tags: angst, female reader, one-sided feelings, slight ooc enjin for this, reader and enjin have a heart to heart talk, or the closest thing related to it

Part 1 here!

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If there is one thing worse than enduring Enjin, then it was to play wingman for him during his new relationship. The man was deep into the so-called honeymoon phase of his relationship that you could swear that he was an entirely new person. The soft spoken and timid cleaner girl happened to be a massive perfectionist and weird in her own way, constantly changing your best friend's behavior.

“Yo, Jin. You know what today is!” You caught him slightly off guard by yelling across the hallway and sprinting towards him, stopping midway as you saw her behind him, clearly disturbing a private moment. “Oh god, listen." I'm sorry.” Was all he could mumble at first, own disappointment seeping into his voice as he looked at her instead of you. “I know we wanted to meet up for drinks but ya know, my girl hates it when I drink and so I try to cut that habit.” His girlfriend smiled brightly, happy to hear him confirm that she successfully ruined another of your little friendship things. “Might do you well too.” She chirps, facing you and for a second you could swear there was something evil in her gaze, disgust or even hatred. “Not meaning it as an offence…Just watching out for my boyfriend's friend.” A sweet smile covered up her hidden intentions and Enjin was too blinded by love to see that his best friend just got insulted in some way.

“Well do whatever you want then. I take Riyo instead.” You hum, not letting your frustration show. Enjin was about to say something as you were ready to leave, but the girlfriend stopped him, shifting his focus on her instead. How classic. This was one of the many things that had changed. Enjin wasn't Enjin anymore but some lovesick dog, waiting for some treat. He cut off your drinking nights, your occasional shared missions (and rather taking her instead), you were sure that at some point she might take your spot at Team Akuta.

You were ready to endure it all for his happiness, till he suddenly stood in front of your room in the middle of the night with two glasses in hand and some bottle that clearly wasn't alcohol. “Surprise.” He beams, already entering without minding your dumbfounded face, throwing himself on your bed and popping that bottle cap off. “Though even if we can't go and drown ourselves in alcohol, we can still vibe over some drinks. This one's some self-made juice by her.” He kept talking, so incredibly long, about her and her self made juice and how amazing she is. Her sweet side, her care, her gaze. It made you sick. He put a glass of juice in your hand and for a short second you could feel his warm skin touch yours, making it feel like electricity that rushes to your body. “She told me to come to you, thinking you might be upset. I told her you're not that type of person but she insisted. Women, right?” He took a sip of his own glass. Everything in his voice told you that no matter how much he disagreed with her decision, he would still listen anyways.

Meanwhile you were frozen in place. You weren't like that, right…He didn't bother to view you as a woman after all. He kept talking as you slowly let everything sink in. Enjin never viewed you like her, thinking you would never be upset or bothered. He took your happiness for granted. “And she-” He was stopped by the sound of glass smashing against a wall. The glass left your hand before you fully realized you’d decided to let go. It didn’t feel like a choice but a need at this point. The glass hit the wall with a sharp crack, liquid exploding outward before gravity dragged it all down in sticky trails. Shards skidded across the floor, catching the light like broken teeth.Then silence followed. Not the comfortable kind you and Enjin used to share, no, this one was thick and left an uncomfortable ringing in your ear. Your breath came out uneven. Honestly you hadn’t meant to throw it that hard, or maybe you had. Maybe some part of you had wanted it to shatter, letting out all the rage and frustration. At this point, Enjin didn’t move.

He stared at the wall first, then at the glass on the floor, then slowly, no, hesitantly, at you. His expression was unreadable, caught somewhere between confusion and shock. “What the hell-” he started.

You laughed. Yet it came out wrong. “Don’t,” you snapped, voice trembling despite yourself. Your hands curled into fists, nails digging into your palms. “Don’t say it like I’m crazy. Don’t look at me like that.” He straightened, instinctively defensive. “I didn’t mean-” “You never do,” you cut in. The words spilled out faster now, hotter, carried by swallowed frustration that piled up. “You never mean to. That’s the problem.”

He frowned. “What are you talking about?”

You gestured wildly to the room, the mess, the bottle in his hand. “You come in here in the middle of the night, talking about her like she’s some miracle you’ve discovered. Like I’m supposed to smile and nod and drink her stupid juice and be grateful you even showed up.”

“That’s not-” “You don’t even hear yourself,” you said, voice cracking. “You talk through me. Like I’m furniture. Like I’m just… here.” His mouth opened, then closed. For the first time, he looked uncertain. The great and popular Enjin was quiet. “You tell me I’m not that kind of person,” you continued, bitter laughter creeping in again. “Like I don’t get jealous. Like I don’t get angry. Like I don’t get to be a woman at all.” The words burned coming out. Enjin took a step closer. “Hey, I didn’t mean it like that…” “Then how did you mean it?” you shot back. “Because all I hear is that I don’t count. That I’m convenient. Safe. Something you can lean on without ever worrying I might break. You are so blind that it HURTS!”

Your chest ached, tight and raw. You hated how much your voice shook. Hated that he could see it now. “I’ve been there for you,” you said more quietly. “Every stupid idea. Every hangover. Every night you didn’t want to be alone. And now I’m supposed to be happy watching you become someone else for her?” He looked hurt now. Genuinely. “I didn’t think it would-”

“No,” you interrupted. “You didn’t think. That’s the point.” The anger drained suddenly, leaving exhaustion in its place. Your shoulders sagged. You looked away, staring at the broken glass on the floor. “I can’t do this anymore,” you murmured. “I can’t keep pretending I’m fine.” Enjin stood there, silent. The bottle hung loosely in his hand. “Are you saying you don’t want me around?” he asked finally. You closed your eyes. “I’m saying I don’t know how to be around you like this. You're not you, you're not my Enjin.”

The words landed harder than you expected. He didn’t move closer this time. Didn’t joke. Didn’t laugh it off. For once, he took you seriously. “I didn’t know I was hurting you,” he said softly. You let out a shaky breath. “That doesn’t make it hurt less.” The room felt colder. Outside, the world kept moving, uncaring, unchanged. “God…” You mumbled, walking through the room to observe the damage and yet feeling all numb inside. “I have liked you for years. Platonically at first…and over time I liked you more than just a best friend. And I've been NOTHING but supportive. You always been the one that I would be around. So why, why does it suddenly feel as if you never treated me the same?”

At this point, Enjin was at a loss of words. He had never expected such an outburst from you, and especially not an emotional monologue about your feelings. At first he wanted to argue, saying that he was your best friend and of course cared but then he realized it himself, he treated you differently from her. You were in his life but instead of someone he should deeply care for, he treated you as if you would stay due the bare minimum. A connection he didn't have to tend to. But now he was sure, you were more important to her and he was bound to set things right.

“Listen. I shou-” “Leave. You should leave Enjin. I need some time. And perhaps a proper friend.”

[satori-runa]

✄------NOT FIRST BUT NEVER LAST

-----------summary: You're Enjins best friend who helps him get together with his dream girl. Too bad that this girl isn't you.

---- tags: slight angst, female reader, one-sided feelings, slight ooc enjin for this

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Being Enjin’s best friend meant enduring his rather special personality and his even worse lifestyle.

So it felt almost routine to go out with him, just the two of you, drowning shot after shot while smooth jazz hummed through his favorite bar. After fifteen shots in, life felt easy in that hazy, careless way. Your head rested against his shoulder as he leaned forward to order another round, one arm draped loosely behind you like it had always belonged there.

“I need your advice,” he said suddenly. “Not as my best friend… but as a woman.”

You hummed in response, barely listening, watching the bartender refill your tiny shot glasses. Then he kept talking.

“I know you’re not, like… the most feminine woman,” he added, casually, “but you’re the only one who can help me.”

The shot you’d just downed almost lodged itself in your throat.

You blinked, the burn of alcohol mixing with something sharper. Maybe you weren’t what he meant by feminine, but you were still a woman. Hearing it phrased like that, from him of all people, stung more than you expected. “Dude, what?” You covered it with a crooked smile, shooting him a side-eye. It was easier to joke than to admit it hurt, to admit that your crush apparently didn’t see you that way at all.

“C’mon, you know I don’t mean it like that.” He laughed, giving your back a rough pat, completely unaware. To him, this was the same easy rhythm you’d always shared, teasing, blunt honesty, no hard feelings. “Sorry I can’t fight trash beasts in heels bigger than your ego,” you shot back, snatching the shot from his fingers and drinking it too.

“So,” you added, forcing lightness into your voice, “what do ya need advice on?”

“What do you gift someone who’s… well… feminine?” he asked.

The shift was immediate. Less joking. More serious. He straightened slightly, watching your reaction like it mattered. You froze.

“You wanna give someone something?” you repeated slowly. This was new. You usually knew when Enjin had a fling, he never hid it, never bothered to. He was a womanizer, careless and honest about it. But this felt different. “Yeah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Someone from the Cleaners. She joined recently.”

Ah. That explained the tight feeling in your chest. “Well,” you said after a moment, staring into your glass, “the basics usually work. Chocolate. Flowers. Maybe jewelry. Depends on the person. I know that shits expensive down here, but it shows that ya care, right?”

If you could, you would’ve refused right then. Gotten up, left him with the bill, disappeared into the night. Helping him get together with someone else settled in your stomach like a stone, heavy, unmoving.

But you stayed.

You always did.

Over the next few days, he asked more questions.

What colors were nice. What kind of flowers weren’t “too much.” Whether subtle was better than bold. You answered every single one, even as the girl he talked about took shape in your mind, soft-spoken, gentle, neat. Everything you weren’t.

“She’s like… gentle,” he continued, words spilling out eagerly. “Quiet, y’know? Not like the rest of us. Doesn’t swear much. Wears her hair all neat. Even when she’s covered in trash, she still looks kinda… pretty.” He laughed under his breath, embarrassed but clearly proud of the feeling. “It’s crazy, right?”

You started walking a little farther ahead during patrols. Volunteering for different tasks. Laughing less. Enjin noticed, but not enough to understand.

One evening, you watched from across the base as he handed her the flowers you’d helped buying. She smiled, small and shy, fingers brushing his when she took them. Enjin looked stunned, like he’d just survived something incredible.

Later, he found you sitting alone, cleaning your weapon with more force than necessary. “She liked them,” he said, grinning. “Said they were beautiful.” “That’s good,” you replied. You didn’t look up. “I told you she would.”

He hesitated. “You’ve been kinda distant lately.” You finally met his eyes. For a moment, you thought about telling him. About ruining everything before it even began. About admitting that being his best friend had slowly turned into loving him in ways you were never allowed to.

Instead, you smiled. “I’m fine,” you said softly. “Really.” He relaxed instantly, satisfied, and ruffled your hair like he always had, like nothing had changed. As he walked away, calling her name, you let the smile fade.

Being Enjin’s best friend meant enduring his happiness, too. Even when it came at the cost of your own.

[satori-runa]

✄------ON THE RUN

-----------summary: How could Enjin just fall in love with someone who is the exact opposite of him?

---- tags: slight angst, female reader, social anxiety hinted, shy!reader

--notes: Maybe will get a part 2.

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It was difficult to explain, harder to accept, but Enjin slowly came to realize that he slowly but surely fell in love with you.

The feelings had appeared without warning, settling in his chest over the course of a single morning, and he swore they made no sense. There was no logical starting point for them to develop. Enjin didn’t understand when it happened. He only knew that, at some point, he started hating the fact that he liked you. It wasn’t gradual. There was no clear reason. Especially not when it all began with something close to dislike. Maybe dislike was a bit harsh, but he had found you strange in the past. And yet, one day, he woke up with this annoying, heavy feeling in his chest, and somehow it was your fault. He hadn’t paid you much mind before, at least, not fondly.

In fact, Enjin was used to being liked and admired. Among the cleaners and their supporters, his name carried weight. His charm came easily, his smile was convincing, and his voice opened hearts, and sometimes more, if he wanted it to. Most people responded to him without thinking. Some blushed. Some laughed. Some even tried their luck with him. You did none of that. You didn’t seek him out, and you didn’t avoid him either. You simply existed in the same spaces as him, untouched by his presence, like two planets in the same galaxy moving along different paths. Maybe that was why the situation bothered him more than it should have.

What truly caught him off guard was the day you rushed past him in the hallway.

He barely registered your face, just the flutter of your coat, before he stopped short. The scent you left behind was gentle and warm, clinging to the fabric as if it belonged somewhere softer than the Sphere. Had you always smelled like that? The thought unsettled him. Maybe he had never really noticed you before. But now he did. Now, he couldn’t stop.

From then on, Enjin started seeing you more, no, noticing you more. He didn’t approach you or start conversations. He just appeared. Not in an obvious way, he wasn’t following you. But somehow, he kept ending up in the same places. The same rooms. The same missions. He volunteered whenever your team needed extra hands, telling himself it was coincidence.

He said it wasn’t a crush. Just curiosity. You were a coworker, nothing more. It definitely wasn’t because he noticed how carefully you handled your things, or how you took baths whenever you had the chance, like you were clinging to small comforts. Or how you stayed on the edges of crowds, quiet and tense. None of that meant anything.

Except it did.

He learned all of this without you ever really noticing him in return. And he couldn’t even blame you. You were shy and soft-spoken, always keeping to yourself. He was the opposite, too loud, confident, unhinged. What reason would you have to look his way?

So, naturally, Enjin did what he always did, especially to give you a reason to notice him. He flirted. At first, it was small. A smile towards your direction, whenever you looked as well. And a casual comment when you passed by. “Didn’t know you worked this hard,” he said once, leaning against the wall as you sorted supplies. “Kinda impressive.”

You paused, just for a moment. Your shoulders tensed before you murmured a quiet thank you and went back to what you were doing, eyes fixed on your hands like they suddenly needed all your attention. Enjin took it as shyness—something harmless, something even a little cute. It was enough to make his interest grow. He didn’t notice how your fingers fumbled after that, how your movements got clumsier, because he was too caught up in the idea that he was doing something right.

The next time, he tried being bolder. You were sitting alone during a break, eating quietly, when he dropped into the seat across from you without asking.

“You always eat alone?” he asked casually. “Kinda dangerous. Someone might steal you.”

You let out a small laugh, short and thin, more habit than humor. Your eyes fell to your food like it could save you.

“Oh… I should probably go,” you said, even though you’d just sat down. You packed up too fast, nearly fumbling your things, and left before he could react. Enjin watched you walk away, a little confused but not worried. Nervous, he told himself. That was normal. He could work with that.

After that, he leaned into it. Compliments slipped out whenever he saw you.

“That color looks good on you.”

“You’re quieter today. I like it.”

“You don’t have to hide so much, you know.” Every time, your reaction was the same. Your posture shrank in on itself. Your hands disappeared into your sleeves like you were trying to make yourself smaller. You smiled politely, said something brief and safe, and found a reason to leave. You never told him to stop.

So he didn’t.

He expected you to say something if it bothered you. Expected you to set a boundary. Since you never did, he took it as proof that he was doing things right.

Enjin genuinely thought he was handling this well. He was softer than usual. Less loud. Less obvious. This was him trying. What he didn’t see was how you started avoiding the places he liked to hang around in. How you checked hallways before turning corners. How your breath caught every time you heard his voice behind you.

One evening, he caught up to you as you were heading out alone.“Hey,” he said easily, falling into step beside you. “You always rush like that. Someone waiting for you?” You shook your head quickly. “No. I just… like walking alone,” you said, already picking up your pace. He laughed under his breath. “Relax. I’m not biting.” Your grip tightened on your bag. You didn’t look at him. “I really should go,” you said again, quieter this time. You crossed the street without waiting, putting distance between you as fast as you could without breaking into a run. Enjin slowed to a stop, watching you disappear down the road.

For the first time, something felt wrong.

You weren’t teasing him. You weren’t warming up to him. You weren’t playing hard to get.

You were scared.

The realization hit all at once, heavy and uncomfortable. He hadn’t been charming. He’d been overwhelmed. While he thought he was doing everything right, all he’d really done was push you further into yourself. He dragged a hand through his hair, frustration tightening his chest.

“Oh,” Enjin muttered.

He’d messed up.

[satori-runa]

✄------PASSENGER PRINCESS

-----------summary: Enjin gives you another kind of ride in his jeep.

---- tags: established relationships, fluff, some slight comedy, female reader, nswf

--notes: this was written quickly on my phone, minors please do not interact!!

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Enjin learned quickly in his years of knowing you that any kind of vehicle should be taken from you if people want to survive.

You were great in many things, or so did he thought. A badass fighter, sassy in comebacks and actually intelligent. Yet if there was something that wasn't on the list of talents that you owned, then it would be driving skills. And he sweared, your driving is more deadly than crossing the border itself. So he was usually the one in charge to bring you from point A to point B.

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His large hand slid further up your thigh, fingertips pressing into the soft flesh as you fumbled with the car radio. "Princess," You didn't have to look up to know that he was smirking at you. "Still looking for something decent to listen to?" He chuckled lowly, eyes flickering between the road and your cute pouting face. "Wouldn't have to if you had some good taste in music." You mumbled back, still pressing buttons to skip his awful songs he picked. "My, my, what mean words. Maybe I should put that clever mouth of yours to better use."

The suggestive words sent a shiver down your spine. You bit your lip, trying to focus on finding a suitable tune, but his wandering touch made concentration difficult. His smirk widened, noticing your flustered state.

"Eyes on the prize, princess. Unless... " In a swift motion, he yanked the parking brake and twisted to face you fully, free hand now brazenly cupping your breast through your shirt. "... you'd prefer I put both hands to work on this gorgeous body of yours instead?"

His voice was a husky growl as he leaned in close, hot breath ghosting over the shell of your ear. Deft fingers found the hem of your top and slipped underneath, calloused pads mapping the smooth skin of your stomach. Enjin was always such a whore for your body and you lived for that.

The radio forgotten, you arched into his touch, pulse quickening. "Someone might see," you breathed, even as your own hands moved to grip his shoulders, urging him closer. A chuckle rumbled in his chest. "Let them watch. I want everyone to see what a lucky bastard I am." To emphasize his point, he captured your lips in a dirty kiss, tongue delving past your lips to claim your mouth thoroughly.

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You were naked and spread open on the backseat, legs in the air as he ate you out like a starving man. His mouth was all over your pussy, licking and sucking hard. "Mmmm, fuck yeah!" you moaned, grinding yourself against his face. He gripped your ass cheeks, pulling you harder onto his tongue as he devoured your juices. His nose rubbed against your clit with each thrust of his tongue, making you cry out in ecstasy. You couldn't get enough, writhing beneath him as he brought you closer to the edge.

He pulled away abruptly, leaving you whimpering and reaching for him. "Not yet, baby girl," he panted, his voice rough with desire. "I'm not done playing with you." Your protests died on your lips as he quickly undid his belt and fly, freeing his thick cock from the confines of his pants. It sprang forth, long and rigid, the tip already glistening with precum.

He stroked himself slowly, watching you with heavy-lidded eyes. "Look at what you do to me," he growled, guiding your gaze to the prominent vein running along the underside of his shaft. "You've got me so fucking hard, princess. Now be a good girl and show me how much you want it."

He stood tall over you, his impressive erection bobbing inches from your face. The musky scent of his arousal filled your nose, making your mouth water in anticipation.

Without hesitation, you leaned forward, wrapping your lips around the swollen head of his cock. He let out a low groan as you began to suckle, your tongue swirling around the sensitive tip. Encouraged by his reaction, you took more of him into your mouth, relishing the way his cock stretched your lips.

As you bobbed up and down, he started to thrust shallowly, his hips rocking in a slow, deliberate rhythm. Each gentle push hit the back of your throat, sending vibrations through his length and causing him to curse under his breath. "You're such a fucking slut- God, you're divine." He moans.

He gripped your hair tighter, his hips snapping forward as he chased his release. "Gonna fill that pretty mouth of yours," he grunted, his balls drawing up tight against his body.

With a final, brutal thrust, he buried himself to the hilt, his cock pulsating as he erupted in a torrent of hot seed. You swallowed around him, milking every drop as he rode out his orgasm, his grip on your hair almost painful in its intensity.

Just as he was starting to soften, the shrill ring of the choker pierced the intimate atmosphere. Startled, he jerked back, his spent member slipping from your lips with a wet pop. You sat up, blinking in confusion as he picked up while still looking at you and your naked form.

"Sup' we're on our way back," he greeted, his tone abrupt and businesslike. After a brief pause, he smirked. "No worries, I just got interrupted." He gave you a wink as he continued to talk with the other person.

It didn't took long for him to hang up.

"Guess we have to continue our little activity later, princess."

[satori-runa]

—To Eat A God

Chapter 2 / Previous / Next

Summary: You recall the events from last week and come to realize that Ronin will use you to prove his ego once more to Angel.

Tags: Mention of violence, blood and gore, ronin is slightly flirting with reader?, manipulation

Author Note: I honestly don't know how to tag this.

Words: Somewhere above 1k

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Roughly a week has passed since that night and your memories barely let you live it down, instead it let images flash into your mind. Some were frightfully detailed and some remain blurry, as if it still had some mercy on your psyche.

The molester never stood a chance against the butcher, Ronin. That was the name he had told you, calm as if this wasn’t a crime scene but a platonic coffee date between two strangers. Back then you were simply too shaken to understand why he would tell you anything about himself. But answers came as fast once the shock wore off, and none of them were good. It was more than clear that Ronin hadn’t saved you out of mercy or because he liked you. He had saved you because you fit into whatever game he and his little circle, that you had joined by now, had been playing. Because, he had already decided you were going to be part of it whether you agreed or not. It was ironic, all you wanted was a bag of chips and you ended up with the blood of someone else on your body and a threat hanging high above your head.

“Sorry for overwhelming you… God, I really messed this one up again, huh? Forget it…”

Angel’s messages were half-deleted by the time you blinked back into the present. It was a bit embarrassing to admit that you got distracted by your own mind while still talking to someone else, especially someone as sweet as Angel. She was one of the women in the chatroom server that Ronin had pulled you into. A friendly name at first, maybe a joke or two. Then the truth under it: A server with channels dedicated to the one thing they all shared an interest in. Murder. The kind of server that was a found treasure for any journalist that dreamed of uncovering a big story. And yet it was you who had been dragged into the center of it. You couldn’t lie, they seemed like normal people aside from the passionate chats filled with blood and gore, but you already knew that this couldn’t be all about them. After all, you were talking to people that had no issue with ending the life of someone else.

Angel her messages started to disappear one by one as she deleted most of them, erasing her worries and care from the screen but the few words that you were able to read told you enough context that she really tried her best to make you comfortable around everyone, especially her. “It is alright, Angel. I’m alright, just a bit lost in my own thoughts.” She reacted with a white heart, showing another part of her empathy. “Ronin told me.” She replied. “Honestly it is all my fault in the first place, it was a stupid joke that turned into more.” You knew what she was talking about, Ronin did fill you in on that day.

He had killed the molester in front of you, barely taking any fight to end his life in a single moment. His voice was free of any concern, and filled with a cheerful amusing tone instead. “Hold this for a sec, darlin. The other losers have to fucking see this.” You hadn’t understood at all, not until that moment when he pressed the knife into your hand. Warm metal stained with blood. Your stomach had dropped and your fingers shaken so badly that the blade almost slipped. You could hear Ronin laugh. He laughed as he held up his phone, taking one picture after another. “What an idiot.” It took you so long to realize that he wasn’t insulting the corpse, for his sorry try to end Ronin. No, Ronin insulted you, for not realizing your own mistake. You had realized too late. He had planned all this, all of it. The fingerprints. The blood. The two weapons. Every detail he needed to tie you to the body if you even thought about running to the police.

Now, a week later, you still felt the weight of the blade in your hands and the blood on your skin, every time you closed your eyes. You secretly cursed, whenever your phone lit up with another message from that server, not because you hated these people, but because it was Ronin’s personal realm that he praised as hell, your hell.

“I suggested it as a joke but apparently he took it as a challenge. He isn’t usually THAT competitive…” “He was supposed to just let it slide.” “Saying something like ‘hell nah, too much work’.” Angel kept writing, not leaving a moment for you to reply. She must feel very guilty by now. “But well, I’m sure you will manage. After all, it is not your first time. Things like this are much easier, when you have done them once already.” Wait. What was she talking about? “Ronin can be lucky that he chose someone that already is familiar with how to take a life, even if it wasn’t really planned.” Now it hit the nail on its head.

Your whole persona was a huge mystery on the server. Ronin didn’t really elaborate why he did invite you, not to you and not to the other members since most of them were very eager to get some answers out of you. Angel was the first one to show kindness, giving you a rough server tour on the day you joined and it was the first big step to realizing what hellish rabbit hole you did fall. The only thing that Ronin contributed, especially behind your back, was the knowledge that you were one of them, even if not professionally. You did take a life in their eyes, and the others wouldn’t know that this was a total lie. Ronin took it and merely framed you.

You found yourself stuck in an awful situation, a pawn in a game that two killers had arranged between themselves, even if it began as nothing but a careless joke filled with irony and doubt. Angel, who had known Ronin long enough to recognize the warning signs, should have known better. She knew how quickly his pride could flare and that a single challenge was only there to serve his ego. Yet, she still accidentally provoked him, still nudged him towards a bet that was meant as humor. She teased him about being unable to pull an innocent person, such as yourself, into their world, just to please him. To obey him. She expected him to scoff playfully, maybe give a snarky remark, then forget it by next morning like he did with so many silly things she had said in the past, but now he treated it like a personal mission. He was ready to drag a stranger down to hell for fun just to prove Angel a point. And the stranger had been you.

You honestly started to doubt that Ronin had found you in that alley by coincidence and saved you out of the goodness in his heart, no. He didn’t plan to kill you either, he simply just manipulated you to play a role in a scriptless drama, getting your DNA all over the place and hiding his own traces. He made sure your fingerprints were on the weapon. He snapped pictures that twisted the scene into something it wasn’t. He planted the story before you could even catch your breath. By the time the others on the server heard your name, you weren’t a victim anymore. You were a killer in their eyes. Someone who had crossed the line once and could be pushed to do it again.

Angel never meant for this. Her guilt slipped through every message she sent, a frantic attempt to explain the bet you had been drafted into without your knowledge. She had encouraged him to “pick someone,” never imagining he actually would. But Ronin wasn’t the type to let a challenge slide. Not when it touched his ego. Not when it meant proving he could bend fate to his will. And as much as you hated the thought of hurting anyone, hated being tied to a crime you never committed, another truth hung over you just as heavily.

You were more afraid of dying. Ronin knew that. Angel knew that. And the server knew only the story they had been fed.

Your thoughts and Angel got interrupted by another private message popping up, this time from the devil himself.

“Wha’tcha doin, darlin? Spilling confessions to a certain angel? If ya got anything on your chained lil soul, just spill it to me instead. Or are you perhaps scared?” You didn’t need to hear him to know that he was laughing to himself right now, enjoying teasing you. “Bet you already put everything together. Then you know what to do, make me proud, my lil saint. Can’t wait to embrace you in hell.” Your face twitched into a frown but you replied back.

YOU: You wish. I don’t know why you do all the effort but I certainly believe in karma.

Goreboy: Hell, you’re one of THOSE huh? Keep believing, my lil gravedigger. I convince you soon enough that karma doesn’t reach the devil. Fuck hell, but you are welcome to try and take me down yourself.

You: Ronin…

Goreboy: Maybe you will earn a reward if you obey. C’mon, don’t you like to play along? What’s the worst thing that can happen? Scared of getting murdered?

You didn’t have the nerves to deal with it, so you turned yourself invisible.

Goreboy: Smart lil fella, gotta leave it to you, you know how to amuse me. You get a pass for today, consider yourself blessed.

[satori-runa]

—To Eat A God

Summary: You get assaulted by a stranger on your way to the store but luckily a crazy maniac with a crowbar comes to save you? You wish.

Authors note: This will end up in a small series just for fun and following some canon game moments. This right here is just a small drabble.

Tags: Ronin x reader based, no romance yet, mention of attempted sexual assault/rape (nothing happens), violence, blood, murder and attempted murder.

Mentions of lots of unpleasant topics, so MINORS Do not interact!!

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There was something strangely grounding to the feeling of pearly velvet drops of blood rushing down your pale cheeks after it landed straight on your face, leaving a trail of red on your skin as you couldn’t help but rather focus on the man in front of you instead.

He was taller than you, not much but still noticeable, and his person got framed by the warm washed lights that showed down from the light pole behind you both, adding certainly to this moment. His hands held a sharp kitchen knife, covered with fresh and old blood alike, letting some of it drip down on the asphalt below. You could still see the images of him, pulling it out from behind their leather jacket, holding it with a deadly grip and not wasting a single minute with raising it into the air and letting its blade rip through the skin of the man in front of you.

The whole situation was almost amusing, iconic even. In fact, a single moment started to escalate so terribly that it felt unreal. It started with you getting the idea to go on a late grocery trip. picking up some snacks for your study session tonight, when you got pulled into the back of an alley by the hands of a very rough stranger. He was as polite, as a potential rapist could get at first, openly spilling out unnecessary comments about your oh-so revealing clothing, which was just some stuff you threw on quickly to go shopping, and how your body and eyes signaled him that you felt the same way about him, wanting some fun, a need to indulge in his actions. He was delusional if he thought that you even wasted a single thought on agreeing with his absolutely awful worldview. But as unfair as life can get, this wasn’t his first time it seems and he kept you pushed against the gross stone wall, hands above your head by pinning them with his own rough hand while his other one was busy putting his fingers on the hem of your shirt, circling the skin on your waist before giving it a rough squeeze that surely was meant as an indirect warning. This was the moment when you knew that you were in some sort of predicament as your choices came to a limited selection.

And that is when the person with the knife came into the scene, showing up and laughing to himself in overflowing confidence while swinging some rusty crowbar in his hands, right on top of his shoulder where it came to a rest. “Well isn’t that fucking gross? Might want to gore out my own damn eyeballs after seeing this.” Not only his appearance screamed dramatic but his pattern of speech as well, pulling his word as if he was in his own little stage drama. Those two sentences were enough to displease the guy holding you against the wall and he wasn’t very amused about the interruption. “Fuck off, twink. This one’s mine.” His grip got stronger, hurting your wrists in the process.

The man with the crowbar didn’t take it all too personal, according to his amused hum, back to swinging his crowbar once more before rushing over with a swing hard enough to let the man holding you crash down onto the ground, unconscious or dead. You weren’t really sure and certainly not in the mood or situation to double check and worry. It all happened very fast, to the point where you didn’t even realize that the pain around your wrist was gone and that you were theoretically free again.You all noticed it way too late, when the man with the crowbar kicked the man on the ground in the rips, making space between you and himself.

“At least he had taste. Hmm, you do look fine for a pile of rot.” His hands grabbed your cheek, tilting it to the side to get a closer look at your features. You were anything, but not fine looking at the moment. Your face must have gone pale from the shock, and your eyes are wide like a deer. “Are you going to kill me too?” Were the only words you could reply, adrenaline smoldering the fear and shock of the situation but something inside you still clenched onto that unsettled feeling. “Should I? Would I?” He was certainly bathing in the attention he got, enjoying the situation to the fullest like some sort of public performance art and he was the artist. He didn’t give you a choice either, just an illusion of mercy that will never fall upon you. “Actually, I would.” The crowbar raised once more with a swift motion, but you actually managed to dodge it barely by throwing yourself to the side, landing on the hard asphalt of the alley, slightly scraping your skin. The next attack followed quickly, he must be trained in using a crowbar for attacks based on his swiftness. He was certainly in advantage in every single field and it scared you. But there wasn’t room to be scared, not when your life was on the line.

The crowbar smashed down toward your skill, fast enough to stir the dust but you ducked it barely on instinct alone, only letting the weapon grazing your hair for a split second and then smashing into the ground with a heavy, bone-deep thud. The broken parts of asphalt fall next to your face, and it lets you feel the weight of the situation even more. You tried to get up, pain lighting up in your wrist, raw and sharp, but you forced yourself up anyway. Another swing came followed, wide and vicious, and you twisted aside once more, but too slowly. The curved steel skimmed through your shoulder with enough force to numb the arm after leaving a thin, electric jolt of agony shooting down your limb.

The man then proceeded to grab your leg as you tried a pitiful escape by crawling off, leaving you kicking instinctively, your heels connecting with something soft and followed by the grunt of the man. The split distraction was what she needed and she stretched out her arm to get hold of an abandoned glass bottle, lifting it and smashing it down on the head of her attacker. She used the moment, where he was caught off guard, to get up on her own legs again and he followed quickly. You came face to face with the man with the crowbar once more, situation unchanged and rather hopeless. The only things that might have started to be different was the amount of injuries he already inflicted and the little damage you did to him.

A crunch of shifting debris behind the man with the crowbar cut through the violent ringing in your ears and you turned to the side just in time to see the man that had molested you earlier start to rise again, unsteady but driven by something meaner than pain itself. Blood streaked down his temple but not covering the fierce glance in his eyes that he threw towards the man with the crowbar and his exposed back. The molester dragged himself upright and snatched a jagged piece of glass from the floor. His knuckles went white around it while the sharp edges buried themself in his palm. The man lifted his arm, shoulders tensing, ready to drive the shard of glass straight into your second problem of a man.

You perhaps didn’t think this through, but you certainly moved.

Your body shot forward, slamming into the crowbar guy’s chest with enough force to knock the wind from both of you. He stumbled out of the line of attack just as the glass came slicing through the air where his spine had been earlier. The shard cut nothing but empty space thanks to your stupidly heroic action. The man with the crowbar, now under you, shoved you off his body like a pile of discarded trash and got up, twisting around and caught sight of the attacker now fully committing to the swing of the mere glass shard he was holding.

“Well, well, well. Someone got the fucking guts and couldn’t wait their turn, huh? Don’cha worry. Yours truly will attend to your pitiful self now. Feel honoured to be ended by the devil's butcher himself.”

[satori-runa]

—A Quick Guide in "How to stay warm"

Summary: Flins and you get stuck in a cave while the fire goes out and an unusual way to stay warm establishes between you too. Tags: Pure smut, gloved fingering, slight bondage, p in v, slight edging Words: 3k

DNI IF YOU ARE A MINOR

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The cold night air in the cave seemed to penetrate deeper than before as the fire slowly died down to mere embers, casting an eerie orange flow around Flins as you before finally going out for good. You shivered, drawing your knees up close to your chest as the chill seeped into your bones and you cursed yourself for being so reckless before and not retreating sooner from the fight with the Wild Hunt, leaving you stuck in a cave with one of your collegues. „Looks like the fire's gone out,“ you mumbled, rubbing your arms in a futile attept to stay warm.

It was also a poor attempt to start a conversation with the man across from you, that wasn't suffering as much as you did. „You're shivering.“ Was the only thing that Flins spoke out loud while throwing a faint gaze into your direction, thinking about your situation. The cold barely bothered him as a fae but he was aware that you must be much more sensetive to the dropping temperatures as a human. He never really thought deeper about it, but he remembered a text in a book mentioning sharing body heat to stay warm over night. It seemed simple enough and he couldn't watch any longer while you suffered.

„Let me warm you up.“ Flins scooted closer in an instant, breaching any distance that was previously between you. „May I?“ He was still gentle enough to ask before placing one arm around your shoulders and pulling you against his chest. „Body heat is supposed to work the best, when there is no fire around.“ His logic made sense and you didnt protest, apreciating the much-needed warmth that he was offering, except the fact that this man was ice-cold. His solid frame pressed against you as he genuinely tried to warm you up with his body, desperately forcing himself to remember what exactly was written in the book he read. Despite the coldness of his body, you found some solace in the unique scent that clinged onto him. It calmed you down a little bit and let you nestle your head against his shoulder. „You're freezing yourself.“ He only chuckled politely at your words, the rumble vibrating through his chest. „Please, do not worry about me. I only wish to assist you, while we wait for reinforcement.“

Flins his hand trailed up and down your arm soothingly, igniting goosebumps across your skins from the gesture alone. You also couldn't ignore your nipples hardened against the fabric of your top, a proof that his actions may have another effect than expected. Feeling a bit bold, you looked up at him through your lashes. "I'm surprised too," you said, voice dropping an octave. "Especially considering what a gentleman you've been. Perhaps you're just waiting for me to make the first move?" Now you finally lost it, losing any sense of being humble and polite. His eyes darken with curiousity as he gazed down at you, full lips curving into another polite smile, hiding his thoughts. „Should I, dear lady?“ he asked, gloved fingers drifting up to brush a strand of hair from your face. „I know of some other ways to warm you up...“ He seems to be a bit hesitant. „They are not very proper, so I do not know if I should m-“ You interrupted him so easily, sliding your hands up his chest to loop around his neck. Leaning in close, you whispered against his ear, „What makes you think I'm nit willing to go all the way to stay warm?“ It was an poor excuse, but effective to convince him further.

A low hum left him as he leaned down, close to your face. „Are you certain?“ He failed to register how much his action drove you crazy and you gave him the consent he needed.

It didn't took long for him to catch your bottom lip between his teeth, nipping gently before soothing it with his tongue. Flins hands gripping your hips and pulling you flush against him, so you could feel his hardness press insistently against your clothed core. „As you wish, my dear.“Not many words were needed to bring across what you need and he could feel you slowly grinding against him. He has you flipped over onto your stomach in one swift movement, almost straddling your hips and pinning your wrists above your head with one large hand. His other hand made quick work of your belt, unbuckling it and threading it through the loops. You didn't knew that Flins could get so creative at staying warm but the fact that he looped the belt around your wrists and using it to bind you to a nearby stalagmite was enough to throw all your doubts out of the window.

„Hold still for me, moonlight.“ Flins shifted off of you, making sure the belt wasn't too tight before trailing a finger down your chest. You arched into the touch, a shiver running through you. The sound of his gloves being adjusted was just the starting point. „Lets see how long it takes us to warm up, shall we?“ His leather-gloved fingers wrapped around the skin of your bare leg so easily, giving you goosebumps the second the leather touched your skin, distracting you from his almost glowing yellow eyes that stared down at you with something that cannot be described with words. Your own eyes went wide as his fingers lifted up your leg, higher and higher till it was placed upon his shoulder, giving him access to the inside of your thigh which he covered in soft butterfly kisses, moving his lips higher before placing his tongue against your skin and licking to the hem of your panties that was no longer covered by your skirt. You were sure that he would be cunning enough to break away from his gentle side to follow his primal instinct by now, but the moment a moan slipped of your lips, did he pulled away.

Flins only smiled at you, his lips brushing the sensitive curve of your neck as his fingers traced lazy circles on your inner thigh before slowly hooking onto your underwear to pull them slowly down. He held your leg firmly in place on his shoulder, the strength in his grip unyielding yet careful, keeping you spread open and exposed to his gaze as he removed the piece of clothing. The leather of his gloves felt smooth and cool against your heated skin, a stark contrast that sent shivers of anticipation racing through your body, making your muscles tense and your breath hitch. He leaned in close once more, his broad chest pressing against your side, the warmth of his body enveloping you in the intimate space. His breath fanned hot against your ear, carrying the faint scent of his cologne mixed with the musk of arousal hanging in the air. „I want to hear more of those sweet sounds from you,“ he whispered, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through you, teasing and commanding all at once. The usual quiet and gentle Ratnik was gone and replaced with a side you never saw before.

Slowly, deliberately, he dragged the tip of his gloved finger through your slick folds, parting them with ease as he gathered your arousal on the leather. The touch was light at first, almost feather-soft, but it ignited a spark that made your hips buck involuntarily, seeking more of his stimulation, more of that electric contact. Your pussy clenched around nothing, aching for him to fill the void. Flins chuckled, the sound deep and throaty, vibrating against your skin as his finger circled your entrance teasingly. He paused there, just pressing against the tight ring of muscle without entering, letting the anticipation build until you whimpered softly, your hands clenching. Only then did he push inside, his gloved finger sliding deep into your wetness with a slow, deliberate thrust that stretched you just enough to make your eyes flutter shut. You let out a long, low moan as his finger buried itself fully within you, the leather warming quickly from your heat. Flins began to pump his finger in and out, each movement steady and controlled, the leather of his glove creating a delicious friction against your inner walls that had you gasping. The texture was unlike anything else, smooth yet textured, gliding over your sensitive nerves with every withdrawal and plunge.

He curled his finger inside you, rubbing firmly against that sensitive spot deep within, the one that made your toes curl and your back arch off the bed. Waves of pleasure radiated from that point, building pressure in your core as he worked you relentlessly. „That's it,“ he murmured, his free hand sliding up to cup your breast, thumb flicking over your hardened nipple through the thin fabric of your uniform. „Let me hear how much you need this.“ Your moans grew louder, unrestrained, as he added a second finger, stretching you further. He scissored them inside, opening you up while his thumb found your clit, pressing and circling it with precise pressure. The dual sensations made your thighs tremble, your leg still hooked over his shoulder keeping you pinned and vulnerable. Sweat beaded on your skin, mixing with the slickness between your legs as he increased the pace, his breaths coming heavier now, matching the rhythm of his hand.

Flins watched your face intently, his eyes locked on every twitch and gasp, drinking in your reactions. He leaned down to capture your lips in a bruising kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth just as his fingers thrust deeper, mimicking the motion. He pulled back slightly, nipping at your lower lip before trailing kisses down your jaw to your collarbone. „You're so wet for me,“ he whispered against your skin. „Dripping all over my hand. I could do this all night, make you beg for my cock.“ His words sent a fresh rush of heat through you, your pussy fluttering around his invading fingers. Withdrawing them suddenly, he brought his gloved hand to your mouth, pressing the slick leather against your lips. You parted your lips obediently, sucking on his fingers, the flavor of your arousal mingling with the faint leather scent. Flins groaned at the sight, his free hand palming the bulge in his pants, adjusting himself as he watched you. Flins could really not explain how or why, but you pushed his buttons more than anyone else could and his primal senses took over fully.

Satisfied, he returned his attention lower, sliding his now even wetter fingers back to your folds. This time, he focused on your clit, rubbing it in tight circles while his other hand gripped your thigh harder, nails digging in through the glove just enough to sting. The pain mixed with pleasure, heightening everything until you were writhing beneath him, your moans turning into desperate pleas. 'Please, Flins,' you gasped, your voice breaking as the tension coiled tighter in your belly. He smiled that wicked smile again, leaning in to whisper against your ear, „Not yet. I want to savor every second of this.“ And with that, he plunged his fingers back inside, curling and thrusting with renewed vigor, determined to draw out every sound, every shiver, until you were utterly undone.

Just as you were about to reach your peak, Flins pulled away, leaving you aching and empty, your pussy throbbing with unfulfilled need. You whimpered in protest, the sound echoing faintly off the damp cave walls, but he simply smiled at you gently, his eyes gleaming in the dim light of his lantern. Flins his fingers, still slick with your arousal, trailed up your body, where he pinched your nipples sharply through the thin fabric of your uniform, earning a gasp from your lips. „Are you still okay, my dear?“ He asked, his care and worries were a strong contast to his current actions. He already had your consent after all and his fingers moved to unbutton every layer of clothes on your divine body. „Let me take care of you.“ He murmured, his voice a low. The cool air of the cave brushed against your exposed skn, heightening the contrast with the heat from your body. Before you knew it, he undid his own pants.

With a firm grip on your shoulders, he maneuvered you onto your hands and knees on the rough stone floor, the grit biting into your palms and knees just enough to ground you in the raw intensity of the moment. The belt around your wrist tugged taut as you moved, securing you to the jagged stalagmite rising from the ground like a natural anchor. It held your arm extended slightly to the side, limiting your range but not your ability to arch your back and present yourself to him, a perfect blend of restraint and invitation. Flins knelt behind you, his leather-clad hands gripping your hips with possessive strength, his thumbs digging into the soft flesh there as he pulled you back toward him. The scent of earth and moisture mingled with the musky aroma of your combined arousal, filling the enclosed space and making every breath feel charged. You felt the blunt head of his cock press against your entrance, hot and insistent, nudging your slick folds apart. Desperation clawed at you; you pushed back against him, your hips rocking in a silent plea, needing him to fill the void he'd so cruelly created.

With a single, smooth thrust, Flins buried himself deep within you, his thick cock stretching your inner walls to their limit. You cried out at the sudden fullness, the sound bouncing off the stalactites overhead, your pussy clenching around him in rhythmic pulses as your body adjusted to the invasion. He was massive, every inch of him pressing against your sensitive spots, the veins along his shaft dragging deliciously along your nerves. He stilled for a moment, his gloved hands sliding up your sides to cup your breasts, squeezing them as he leaned over your back, his chest pressing against your spine. His breath was hot on your neck, and you could feel the rapid beat of his heart matching the throb between your legs.

„Archons, you feel divine, moonlight.“ he moaned, his voice rough with restraint as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck, teeth grazing your skin. The belt on your wrist pulled tighter as you instinctively tried to reach back for him, the restraint adding a thrilling edge of helplessness that made your core flutter around his cock. He allowed you a few seconds to acclimate, his hips flush against your ass, the coarse hair at his base tickling your skin. Then he started to move, pulling out slowly until only the tip remained inside you, before slamming back in with a force that rocked you forward. Your hands scrabbled against the stone for purchase, fingers curling into the dust as each thrust sent jolts of pleasure-pain through your body. Flins set a punishing rhythm, his hips snapping against yours with wet, obscene slaps that echoed in the cave, mingling with your moans and his grunts. One gloved hand wrapped around to your front, fingers finding your clit and rubbing it in firm circles, while the other stayed on your hip, guiding your movements to meet his.

Your tied wrist strained against the belt, the leather biting into your skin with every forward jolt, a constant reminder of your submission in this primal setting. The stalagmite loomed beside you, cool and unyielding, its surface rough under your free hand as you braced yourself. Flins leaned in closer, his free hand tangling in your hair, pulling your head back gently but firmly to expose your throat. He licked a stripe up your neck, tasting the salt of your sweat, before biting down on your shoulder, not hard enough to break skin, but enough to make you yelp and clench around him tighter. „That's it, take it all.“ he whispered harshly, his pace quickening as he drove deeper, the head of his dick hitting that spot inside you that made stars burst behind your eyelids. Your thighs quivered, slickness coating his balls as they slapped against you with each plunge. The cave's chill air teased your heated skin, raising goosebumps even as sweat dripped down your back, but all you could focus on was the building pressure, the way he filled you completely, owning every inch of your body.

He released your hair only to trail his gloved fingers down your spine, pressing at the small of your back to arch you further, deepening the angle. You felt him everywhere, his cock pistoning in and out, stretching and claiming, his thumb on your clit, swollen and aching under his touch, the leather of his gloves warming against your skin, a sensory overload that pushed you closer to the edge. Your moans turned into desperate cries, the restraint on your wrist making you feel deliciously trapped, heightening the dominance he exuded. Flins' breaths grew ragged, his grip tightening as he chased his own release, but he wasn't done teasing yet. He slowed suddenly, grinding deep inside you in slow circles that made your walls flutter and your toes curl against the cave floor. "Beg for it," he demanded, his voice a husky command.

"Please, Flins," you gasped, the words tumbling out in a rush, your voice echoing softly. "Fuck me harder, make me cum on your cock." Satisfied, he obliged, resuming his brutal pace, his hand working your clit faster until the coil in your belly snapped. Your orgasm crashed over you, pussy spasming around him as you screamed his name, the sound reverberating through the cavern. He followed soon after, thrusting erratically before burying himself to the hilt and spilling hot cum deep inside you, his groan muffled against your shoulder.

He lingered inside you for a moment longer, his cock softening as yiu combined releases trickled down your thighs, warm and sticky against the cool cave air. His gloved hands roamed your sides gently, thumbs tracing lazy patterns over your ribs as he checked on you, before moving to loosen the belt. And at this point, you barely even noticed the cold anymore.

[satori-runa]

—May the moon witness us

Summary: Your husband catches you daydream while you are stargazing.

Words: 0,8

Tags: Established Relationship, Romance, Fluff, female reader

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

And you realized, in that fleeting moment, that the happiness you felt wasn’t from the stars glittering across the night sky, but from Flins standing right beside you, watching them with a peaceful expression.

The world above shimmered with starlight and silver clouds, the sea below whispering its endless lullaby. Yet your gaze, as always, was drawn to him. To the man who carried himself with the poise of a soldier loyal to his duty and a husband that is bound to his darling wife. He stood close, one hand resting behind his back, the other tucked neatly into the pocket of his long coat. The moonlight found him easily, it seemed to favor him, tracing the edges of his jaw, the dark blue of his hair, the faint curve of a smile he wore only for you.

If you had to name the feeling that filled your chest, it would be ethereal. Yet you wondered, quietly, if he felt the same. Flins was ethereal in your eyes, a blessing to you that was given by fate.

Somehow, your eyes lingered too long, perhaps, because he turned to you, not sharply, but as though he had known your thoughts were already reaching for him. His gaze met yours, soft and attentive, carrying that unspoken tenderness that words could never quite hold.

“What is on your mind, my beloved?” he asked, voice low and deliberate.

Before you could answer, his gloved hand rose, brushing against your cheek. The leather was cool at first, but his touch carried warmth deeper than skin. His thumb traced a slow circle across your cheekbone, a gesture so careful, so reverent, it almost felt like a vow. “Do you ever tire of the stars?” you murmured, trying to sound light, though your heart betrayed you with its pace. It wasn’t the question you were meant to ask, but he knew the meaning despite that. Flins knew every thought of his wife, as if they were his own ones.

“Never,” he replied, eyes never leaving yours. “Not while their reflection graces your eyes.”

You would have laughed if you weren’t so busy holding your breath. His hand drifted downward, resting briefly at your jaw before moving to your waist. The motion was unhurried, deliberate, the touch of a gentleman. His palm settled at your hip, steady and reassuring, pulling you gently closer until the night’s chill was replaced by the quiet warmth between you. He leaned down, just enough for his breath to brush your temple. A chain of actions that would only get witnessed by you two and the moonlight.

“You look at me as though I hung the heavens,” he whispered. “Perhaps you did,” you said, voice soft as starlight. He smiled then, that small, rare smile that held no composure, no formality, only truth. His forehead rested briefly against yours, his thumb still tracing idle shapes against your side.

The stars watched in silence, but you no longer cared for them. Every light you could ever wish for was already standing beside you, wrapped in the scent of sea breeze and cologne, in the warmth of a man who loved you not with words, but with the gentleness of every touch. You felt his breath ghost across your skin, faint as mist, and suddenly the world seemed to hush, the waves, the wind, even the restless whisper of the dead. All that remained was the steady beat of your heart, and the quiet, unwavering presence of him.

Flins’s hand lingered at your hip, fingers splayed with the lightest pressure, as though you might fade if he held too tightly. His other hand still rested still against your cheek, the thumb tracing slow, reverent circles. His gaze dropped from your eyes to your lips, not with hunger, but with the deep, aching patience of someone who loved in silence far too long.

“May I?” he murmured, voice low enough that you almost mistook it for the sea itself.

You nodded, the smallest motion, but it was enough. Despite being married, he still asked every single time, wanting you to be comfortable.

Then he leaned in, closing the distance with deliberate care, every inch feeling like a lifetime. His lips brushed yours once, barely a touch, soft as a prayer, and then again, deeper, though never rushed. There was no urgency, no demand, only devotion measured in quiet breaths and the tremor of his fingertips against your skin.

The kiss lingered like moonlight, gentle, weightless, eternal. A lot of words rushed into your head and you were sure, you couldn't just choose one. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, eyes half-lidded, breath steady.

“You are,” he whispered, “the one thing I have ever done right.”Your hands found his chest, feeling the slow rhythm beneath his coat, it calmed you. He watched you smile , the kind of smile meant for no one else but him.

Flins would marry you again under the gentle moonlight, every single time.

[satori-runa]

—Midnight haunts us all

Summary: Flins realizes the worth of midnight times on the graveyard, when he can spend them with you.

Tags: Angst, mention of violence and blood, ooc

Words: 3,5k

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Kyryll Chudomirovich Flins loves midnights.

There is a serenity in those silent hours, a quiet stillness that fills the graveyard like a slow, gentle tide and reaches even the darkest corners that even Flins never saw before, despite living here for so long. The only sound that his ears picked up is the slow dripping of water that gently fell down the gravestones after a heavy rain, rushing in its own pace to follow gravity's lead. Each droplet falls to the floor, breaking the surface of a small puddle in the corner of one of the graves, sending ripples outward in perfect symmetry. The water doesn't just drop and ripple but it reflects the faint glow of his lantern, nestled among his raven clothes, its light almost a match for the illuminating moon and stars that reached the earth.

Every so often, the Ratnik would set aside his endless collection of files, neatly sorting them into stuffed drawers, his every movement unhurried, almost tender. It’s a rare thing, this softness, this willingness to let his guard down and move through his world without urgency or purpose. The rigid pride, the air of invincibility he wore like armor, it all faded away in these midnight hours. It was the only time he allowed himself to just be Flins and not someone that is responsible to protect and guide those that fall victim to the Wild Hunt.

Here, in the stillness of the night, he found a kind of solace. The world wouldn’t let him die, death was forbidden, death was wrong. But suffering? Suffering was fine, expected even. He was to endure it all, every fiber of his being unraveling under the weight of an uncertain eternity within this graveyard, a reflection of his own fractured mind.

“The plant,” you say softly, your voice cutting through the stillness, close enough to touch his thoughts but too distant to reach his skin. Your words echo in his mind, even as he remains still, listening more to the sound of you than the faint water droplets that had once filled the silence. They’ve become nothing more than a quiet, almost fading, background hum now, as if the world itself had quieted to hear you speak.

He doesn’t turn to look at you. His body refuses to move, frozen in place. Instead, he stares ahead at the cold waves, its familiar chill pressing against him like a long-held grief. That view has always been there, a constant, an unyielding presence in his life. He hates it, hates the memories it holds, the times he was happier and more broken all at once. It’s hard to say if he’s ever been lower than he is now.

“The plant wasn’t watered,” you say again, your voice soft but insistent, like a gentle breeze. You sit on the floor, legs crossed, near the puddle where the water drips, your gaze fixed on it as if it’s the most fascinating thing in the entire world. As if Flins, sitting next to you with his feigned smile, wasn’t the most captivating presence in the graveyard.

He feels your presence beside him like a balm to his fractured soul, a quiet comfort in the chaos of his thoughts. He doesn’t need to look at you to know that you are there, sharing this quiet midnight with him. It is enough, this shared silence, this simple act of being. For now, it is enough.

In the dark, when the world lay down to rest, the blackest hour of the night became a battlefield for those still awake. It was in these quiet, relentless hours that the mind turned on itself, each thought a weapon, memories like fists, feelings like knives, tearing down the defenses carefully built up in the daylight. You knew Flins fought these battles too. You could see it in the way he carried himself, in the weight he bore in his shoulders. The way they slumped, as if the pressure of it all was dragging him down, daring to suffocate him.

But you didn’t speak of it. You knew there was no need to put words to something so deep and so painfully familiar, something so natural, when Flins already knew it himself. Words wouldn't help, they would only sharpen the edges of the wounds that had yet to heal. And you believed that Flins was too good hearted to admit the pain he feels.

The water droplets continued their steady descent, still rushing down the same cold gravestone falling from a height into the same reflective puddle. The ripples spread out across the surface in perfect, mesmerizing circles, breaking the stillness, only to settle once more. It was still oddly captivating, even after all this time. In the darkness, it was easy to lose yourself in something so simple, so repetitive. It was one of the things you could watch over and over again without getting tired.

“The plant,” he repeated after a long, aching silence. His voice, naturally deep, was rough now, hoarse. It sounded like a painful scratch against your ears, the kind of sound that spoke of nights without sleep, of thoughts that gnawed at the edges of his mind. You watched him, watched as his expression furrowed, his eyes distant. He seemed to be trying to remember, trying to dig through the fog of his thoughts to find what you were talking about. Was there a plant before? Had it mattered at all?

His thoughts were murky, clouded by a haze of exhaustion and something else, something deeper, more insidious. Magenta.

Magenta was a color he hated, he realized with a sudden clarity that startled him. It was strange to think of hating a color, but he did, with every fiber of his being. It pierced his eyes, clawed at his mind, triggered memories so violently that he wished he could erase it from existence. Magenta reminded him of too much, of things he wanted to forget but never could. It was the color of his suffering, the hue of his nightmares, the shade of his regrets.

He cursed under his breath, a low, frustrated sound. How could he hate something so simple, so inescapable? How could he want to tear apart a color? But he did. God, he did. And you, sitting beside him, felt the depth of that loathing, that anger, even if you didn’t know the exact reasons behind it. You could sense it in the way his hands clenched, in the way his jaw tightened.

You didn’t say anything. Instead, you reached out, your hand moving slowly, hesitantly, until it hovered just above his. You didn’t touch him, not yet. Just the proximity of your hand, the closeness of your presence, was enough to let him know that you were there, that you understood or maybe pretending to.

“The plant,” he said again, softer this time, almost as if he were afraid of the word. He still didn’t look at you, his eyes fixed on the puddle now too, on the droplets that fell with a rhythm that was both maddening and comforting. “Why?”

Your lips curved into a small, all saying smile, flashing on your face and replaced the calmness with a familiar sight. “Because you forgot to water it, Flins. Because it’s still here to thirst.”

He closed his eyes, and for a moment, the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease. He wasn’t sure why, but your words, simple as they were, felt like a balm to his soul even when you didn't say anything comforting.

“I pretended it wasn’t important,” Flins murmured, his eyes falling shut, as though by closing them he could erase the gray ocean waves around him, the murky puddle of water on the floor, the relentless magenta that seemed to taunt him, to mock his every thought. And perhaps, too, he could erase the sensation of you sitting so close, the divinity of your presence beside him. It was a sensation he could neither fully embrace nor escape from, as if the very act of being near you was both a comfort and a curse. He tried so desperately to shut it all out, to suffocate the feelings that clawed at his insides, but even as he spoke, he choked on the impossibility of his own escape. “But it pierced me from the inside.”

“The plant?” you repeated, your voice barely a whisper, like the soft brush of wind against water. The droplets continued their slow descent from the stone, splashing into the puddle below with a steady, unyielding rhythm. The wall remained as it was, tall and indifferent, and you stayed seated beside him, unmoving, as if the two of you were carved from the same stone. You didn’t turn to look at him; there was no need. He was still the same man, burdened, lost. Nothing had changed, and you wondered if it ever would.

Once, there had been a plant, small, fragile, perched on the edge of the metallic floor next to his home. It had been a source of contention between the two of you, its very existence a catalyst for your frequent arguments. You would tend to it with a tenderness that seemed almost out of place in such a harsh, unforgiving environment, your fingers brushing gently against its delicate leaves, your eyes soft with care. “You can't just run off,” Flins had softly claimed during one such argument, his voice held back with frustration, his hands cutting through the air in a gesture of worry. The veins in his neck had stood out sharply, and his eyes had burned with a panic so intense it was almost palpable. There were moments when you could see the depth of his suffering, buried beneath the rage, a tempest of pain and fear and longing. His need to protect, to control, was born out of that suffering, and in those moments, you could almost feel sorry for him.

You remembered that day vividly, the way he’d stood over you, trembling with a barely restrained urge to reach out, his face contorted with a mix of terror and something else, something darker, more desperate. He had spat the words at you, his voice breaking with the effort to contain himself. And you, stubborn and unyielding, had met his gaze head-on, your hands still cradling the fragile plant as if it were the most precious thing in the world.

Now, in the stillness of the night, with only the soft sound of the water droplets and the echo of your past selves hanging between you, you felt a strange sense of calm. The memory of that argument, like so many others, was a testament to the fragile balance you maintained, a balance between what was said and unsaid, between your conflicting desires and the reality of your circumstances.

“You don’t have to pretend with me,” you said softly, breaking the silence, your eyes still focused on the puddle, watching as the droplets created ripples that spread outwards, fading into the stillness. You didn’t need to look at him to know he was listening, to feel the weight of his gaze on you, heavy with unspoken words. “You don’t have to hold it all in. Not here. Not now.”

He didn’t respond, not at first. But you could sense the shift in him, the way his shoulders sagged just a little, the way his breath seemed to hitch in his throat. The magenta haunted him, you knew that much. It was a color tied to his memories, to his pain. To things he couldn’t, wouldn’t, speak of. But you also knew that there was a part of him that wanted to, that needed to. A part that longed for release, for the kind of understanding that could only come from another soul.

“Maybe one day…” he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath. “Maybe one day, it won’t hurt so much.”

You turned then, just slightly, enough to catch a glimpse of him in your peripheral vision. He looked small, sitting there, almost like a child lost in a world that had moved on without him. And in that moment, you just let your mind take over and replay the memories you both tried to swallow down so badly.

The dim light of your own lantern flickered in your hands, casting long shadows across the field. The air was thick with tension, a suffocating weight that pressed down on everything. You stood at the edge of the portal that let the wild hunt enter the ground, your other free hand tenderly cradling the small, fragile plant you’d been nurturing. Its green leaves were vibrant against the dull gray of the weather, a small, defiant burst of life in a place that seemed to reject it.

Flins stood across from you on that day, his tall frame tense with professionalism. His eyes, usually so guarded, were blazing with a passion once more that made your heart pound. You knew what this was about, it was the same argument you’d been having for days now. But tonight, something felt different. There was a sharp edge to his voice that hadn’t been there before, a desperation that cut deeper than his usual annoyance.

"You can't just keep doing this," he snapped, his voice rough and jagged, like gravel scraping against metal. "You can’t keep pretending that everything’s fine, that you can just…carry on like this. It’s reckless!"

His words hung in the air between you, a challenge. You met his gaze head-on, refusing to back down. “What’s reckless is you thinking you can control everything, that you can control me! I’m not some soldier you can just order around, Flins. I am capable of surviving!”

He flinched at that, a flash of something like pain crossing his face. But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by a hardened, almost cruel expression. “You can't dismiss the worries of someone, who cares for you.” he sighs in frustration. “It is a plant. Please do not sacrifice your life for it.”

His words stung, cutting deep. You felt your chest tighten, your breath catching in your throat. “That’s not…”

“You’re delusional if you think this is going to change anything,” he interrupted, his voice rising. “That plant, your stupid idealism…it’s all pointless. Just like you, if you act reckless.” Flins couldn't really explain himself at that moment. It was as if his whole personality broke down under his emotions, crushing his logical thinking with an immense worry that almost hurt him.

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. For a moment, you just stood there, stunned. You could feel the tears welling up in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Not in front of him. Not when he was looking at you with that cold, unyielding stare. A stare that you failed to register as genuine worry.

“Fine,” you said, your voice barely more than a whisper. “If that’s how you feel, then I’m done.”

Without another word, you turned on your heel and stormed out of the previous battlefield, the steps echoing with each step through the area. The cool air hit your face, but it did little to soothe the burning in your chest. Your footsteps echoed in the empty paths as you walked away, each step, despite the heavy feelings, taking you further from him, from his cruel words.

You weren’t sure where you were going, anywhere but here. The walls of the mountains seemed to close in around you, suffocating, and you felt like you couldn’t breathe. You just needed to get away, to clear your head.

But then, as you turned a corner, you saw them, a group of wild hunt monsters. Their magenta flames were almost as bright as the light of your lantern, their faces hidden behind masks and their shiny form reflected the gentle light that surrounded you all. You froze, the limbs you were trusting all your life started to paralyze, your heart racing. You knew what they did to Flins, to the others, and what they would do to you with their mighty authority and the sharp weapons that rested in their gloved hands.

One of them spotted you, and you saw a flash of recognition in their eyes as it started to roar.

Panic surged through you. You didn’t wait to hear the rest, you couldn't when your limbs started to ease and your body switched into the flight modus, running. You couldn't beat such a huge group alone. You turned and ran as fast as your legs could carry you, your heart pounding loudly in your ears, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as you still carried that silly little plant. You could hear them close behind you, their heavy boots pounding against the floor like drums, their shouts echoing through the mountains.

You turned another corner, your mind racing. But there was nowhere to go, the path was a dead end. You stopped, your back against the gray stone wall, your chest heaving in a state of pure panic. They were getting closer. You could hear them, feel the vibrations of their steps.

And then, out of nowhere, a figure appeared. Flins. He was running towards you, his face a mask of determination. He held himself with pride and strength despite looking like a mirror image of your thoughts, softly illuminated by the blue light of the lamp. At that specific moment, you were too shocked to move. What was he doing here? He’d followed you?

“Get behind me,” he said, his voice low and urgent.

You didn’t have time to think. You moved behind him, pressing your back against the cold, stone wall. The monsters rounded the corner, their eyes locking onto Flins. There was a tense silence, a moment of stillness before the storm.

One of the monsters stepped forward, his hand on his weapon. Flins didn’t flinch, he lost the ability to be scared of those monsters a long time ago, refusing to feel anything but pure hatred. “You’re not taking them,” he said, his voice calm, but there was a dangerous edge to it, a warning that was clear as crystal.

Flins his response was swift. He lunged forward, his movements a blur, striking the monster with a force that sent him sprawling to the ground. The others reacted immediately, drawing their weapons high into the air, but Flins was faster. He moved with a deadly grace, his strikes precise and powerful.

You watched, your heart in your throat, as he fought them off. He was outnumbered, but he fought with a fierceness that was almost terrifying. You wanted to help, to do something, but you were frozen in place, fear and shock holding you captive.

The area was filled with the sounds of the struggle, the grunts of pain, the clang of metal against metal. You could see the determination in Flins eyes, the sheer will to protect you, to keep you safe.

But there were too many of them. And as you watched, you realized with a sinking feeling that he couldn’t hold them off forever.

You had to do something. You couldn’t just stand there and watch him fight alone. You took a deep breath, your hands trembling, and stepped forward, ready to…

Blood. Fine droplets of red liquid that hit the gray wall like a firework, the iron-like smell creeping up his nose and Flins took a minute. He blinked, first once, then twice. Blood. On his polearm, sticking in between them like watered paint, running down the large form of his rough hands, further into his sleeves.

Then there was your face, it wasn't visible to his bright eyes, but you didn't move. Your delicate body was squished in between loose body parts of what must have been the rest of the monsters in decaying state. Your hair covered your eyes, your hands covered the wound and the blood covered your body. It seeped into the clothes that you wore and dripped down your skin that started to lose its warmth.

Flins hatred for the wild hunt blinded him so much that he had struck you as well.

“Did you hate me so much?”

He finally moved his head, his face was blank. No faux smile. No depressed frown. No pride, anger or guilt. It was flat and empty like a canvas. Then he stretched out his arm, his eyes looking at his own hands, the memories of blood were gone, his hands were clean. And his clean hands would seek out your touch, hovering above your cheek. He missed the warmth, the softness, the tender smile. And when he tried to close the gasp, his hand moved through you.

He blinked.

You were gone.

Kyryll Chudomirovich Flins loved midnights, hated the color magenta and bathed in the blood of a divinity.

[satori-runa]

—Ghost Bride

Summary: Flins finds a notebook and accidentally proposes to a ghost at the shores.

Tags: Corpse Bride inspired, short drabble, not proofread and a bit ooc

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Usually, people would claim that Kyryll Chudomirovich Flins, for all his elegance and refined speech, was not a poet.

But curiosity has a way of drawing even the most disciplined souls off course, and in this case, it was him. That is how Flins came upon the notebook, half-buried beneath dirt and brittle petals in the graveyard. Among all, the cover was frayed, ink smudged with time, but the words inside were still as clear as the light of his lantern.

He turned the page, his voice low as he started to read to himself.

“Before the turning of the years,

I pledge thee love through joy and tears.”

The syllables dragged like velvet across his tongue, unfamiliar but strangely magnetic. The moment they left his lips, a hush fell. He did not notice the way the air thickened, nor how the spirits watching from the shadows stilled. He was intrigued by the writing and who could have lost this.

“Not flesh alone, nor fleeting breath,

But soul to soul, through life and death.”

The path beneath his boots stretched ahead, but the graveyard behind him shifted. The ghosts who lingered stepped aside, their gazes locked on him, their hollow eyes flickering faintly with memory. None followed. After all, they knew better. Flins continued, his voice firmer now, pulled by the rhythm of the verse.

“When shadows fall and time is done,

Our spirits bind, forever one.”

The shoreline greeted him without warning, waves clawing at the edge of the island he called home. The sea wind rose, carrying the scent of salt and something older, something forgotten. He read on, entranced.

“No grave, nor stone, nor darkened sea,

Shall break the oath ’twixt thee and me.”

And you appeared.

You had not been summoned in years. Torn uniform hanging like a memory, the insignia of the Lightkeepers worn but unmistakable, you stood just beyond his sightline at first, your form wavering between the living and the dead. You had once fought, once bled, once dreamed of a future that the battlefield stole from you. Yet here, at the pull of his voice, you felt your old yearning stir, yearning for vows you had never spoken, for love you had never known. You never really bothered with roaming around, mourning your lost life and dwelling in memories. But that poetry let everything bled back to the surface.

“If stars should fade, if suns grow cold,

Still shall I keep what I now hold.

For love is sworn, so let it be,

As it binds us for eternity.”

The words sealed it. They tethered you. And you stepped forward.

The mist parted as you revealed yourself fully, your voice trembling but resolute.

“I will.”

Flins startled, the book nearly slipping from his hands. His eyes, sharp, calculating, yet softened now with a rare vulnerability, met yours. He took you in respectfully, the remnants of battle clinging to your spectral frame, the quiet sorrow in your gaze, the yearning that still burned despite everything. He must admit, he didn't think that he would get himself distracted with that book, and yet he gently scolded himself for it.

Flins didn't recoil. Instead, he inclined his head, every movement deliberate, noble.

“Then I must honor it. To speak words such as these carelessly would be a cruelty I am not capable of.”

You searched his face, expecting hesitation, perhaps even fear. But instead you found warmth, gentle, unshaken, as though he had always known you belonged to him in this strange, fateful moment.

Your hand, translucent and cold, lifted despite yourself. You expected your touch to pass through him as it always had with the living. But when his gloved hand rose to meet yours, you felt it: the faintest spark, a bridge between his flesh and your spirit.

Flins’s voice was softer now, meant for you alone.

“You were waiting for someone to promise, were you not? Then let me be that fool who wandered too far, found words not his own, and made them true. If eternity is what you seek… then eternity you shall have. With me.”