#I say none boy but there might be some boy in the they

[zorosangell]

⛥ﾟ・。 piña colada

synopsis: some women just can't take a hint... good thing Zoro's only got eyes for one girl.

cw: nsfw (oral: female receiving), this woman is really shameless, surprisingly tender Zoro, you two are so in love, kinda magical ngl, etc.

"Hey, there," a woman—who was in the tiniest bikini known to man—hummed, tone low as she approached the lounge chair. "I don't think I've seen you on this island before."

'For fuck's sake...'

Annoyed, Zoro let a heavy sigh out from his nose, not even bothering to glance in the girl's direction as his sunglasses shaded his harsh side eye.

You'd think after seeing eight other women walk dejectedly away from his umbrella, the others would catch the hint?

"Not interested," he stated, curtly, hands firmly tucked behind his head as he looked out to sea.

The woman chuckled, softly, completely ignoring his comment and taking a seat in the sand.

She sat criss-crossed, dropping her hands in her lap and using her arms to slightly push her tits together, attempting to endearingly lean closer to your swordsman.

"Don't be so hasty," she sweetly smiled, taking his rudeness in stride. "Haven't even given me the chance to speak."

"Well, that's 'cause I really don't give a shit what you say otherwise," he sighed, shutting his eyes.

"I can name ten other men off the top of my head that would beg to differ," she countered, slyly.

"I'm not other men."

"You certainly aren't..."

'Walked right into that one.'

His brows flattened, and for a moment he wondered if this was a real person talking, slightly glancing around to see if he could find a camera crew of some sort.

Yet, to his surprise, there was none.

"I have a girlfriend," he dealt the finishing blow, delivering the final line that scared away all the other women from before.

He could finally get some peace and quiet.

"I don't see her here," the woman shrugged, simply, as if what he just said made no difference to her.

Zoro threw his head back with an irritated groan, wanting nothing more than to drop kick the woman away and go back to napping.

This was all Luffy and Usopp's fault.

The crew had been docked on a tropical summer island for a few days, and for all of them, you and Zoro had gone down to the beach together and lounged in the sun—tanning, napping, eating, and drinking in rotation.

But on that particular day, the boys had whisked you away to go explore some cove they found on the beach's edge, leaving your swordsman to fend off the wolves by himself.

And at first, it wasn't that bad.

The girls that approached were polite and had pure intentions, and actually respected his wishes when he said he was uninterested.

But numbers four through eight?

Hell, the woman sitting next to him?

Less so.

"Are you deaf or somethin'?" he asked, brows furrowed as he sat up, not appreciating her comment at all. "I already told you, I'm not interested. So get lost."

"Oh, c'mon," she rolled her eyes with a laugh. "There's no way you actually have a girlfriend. No girl in her right mind would leave her man alone on a beach like this, especially if he was as handsome as you."

"Maybe that's why she's my girlfriend and you're not," he scoffed, sarcastically.

Her brow twitched, the remark clearly striking a nerve as her posture suddenly straightened, her sickeningly sweet tone turning sour in a second.

"Well then, maybe your girlfriend can step up and we can see who's really the shit," she spat, standing from her spot in the sand. "Since she's so fuckin' great, let's see how she fares in a fight."

A smirk rose to the woman's lips, her hand coming to rest cockily on her hip.

"I might not look it, but I'm this island's martial arts champion... And I've yet to lose a fight. So let's see how she does with her face in the sand."

Zoro paused a moment, almost disbelieving, lifting up his sunglasses and taking a breath to see if the woman was serious.

She was.

Deadly serious, actually.

'HA!'

The man threw his head back in a burst of uproarious laughter, the sound causing the woman to jolt with surprise, and slight fear.

She'd never seen his expressions range anything past annoyance, so seeing him so amused seemed almost uncanny, especially since he was nearly howling with hilarity.

But he couldn't help himself.

You, the woman with a bounty over one billion?

You, the woman with the devil fruit of the personified spirit of death?

You, the woman who has fought literal monsters with her bare hands?

Lose to a random martial arts lady on a peaceful summer island?

It was almost too much.

The woman's brows furrowed, face warming at the mockery.

"The hell's so funny?!" she huffed with a childish pout.

Attempting to regain his composure, he wiped a tear from his eye, slightly clutching his stomach as his laughs died down.

"She'd fuckin' kill you," he chuckled, shoulders bobbing. "Like actually."

Furious, the woman broke into a long-winded tirade about why she would win... or how badly you would lose... or something along those lines.

If he was being honest, he zoned out the moment she started talking, something more interesting seeming to catch his eye.

You.

Like a dog with a bone, he watched, mesmerized, as you made your way over, hips looking ripe and tender for the grabbing.

'Goddamn...'

After days in the sun, you'd developed a delectably smooth tan, the sunscreen you had him apply earlier giving your skin an alluring shine.

Eyes scanning over your body, he took in the light (f/c) of your bikini, which had a few complimentary, (o/c) flowers decorating its corners, along with the waist beads resting lazily over your stomach, not to mention the gold anklets and bracelets that littered your ankles and wrists.

You looked good enough to eat—a thought he didn't mind indulging in later.

"Hey! Are you listening to me?" the woman continued pestering him, her hand coming up to rest on his bicep.

Huge mistake.

Faster than she could even see, Zoro grabbed her wrist, pulling her hand off and staring her down with a deadly glare, his patience long since run thin.

The woman froze, fear slowly creeping into her chest at the sharpness of his eyes.

He looked like he had half the mind to slit her throat right there.

"I'm only gonna tell you this one last time..." he warned, tone leaving no room for argument. "Get. Lost."

Roughly, he let go of her, and she quickly scrambled to her feet, scurrying back over to the safety of her friend's towel just as you arrived.

"Hey, Zo'!" you chirped, taking a seat on your swordsman's lap as you took a sip of your cocktail, which was in a cut-off coconut.

"Hey, pretty," he greeted with a smirk, placing a kiss on your neck. "Whatchu got there?"

"Some kinda coconut-rum drink," you answered, plucking the pineapple off the rim and taking a bite out of it. "The guy at the bar called it a Piña Colada."

Zoro nodded, "S'it any good?"

"Might be a bit too sweet for you," you shrugged, holding it out to him. "But try it."

Leaning forward, he sipped a bit from the straw, his nose scrunching slightly.

It was incredibly sweet.

"Yeah, I figured as much," you giggled, amused by his expression as you took it back. "By the way, who was that girl that went running away from here? She looked scared."

Slightly, you leaned over to glance at her, who was sitting not too far away, and raised a brow as she quickly turned around, terrified by your gaze. 

'The hell?'

"Was she in trouble or somethin'?"

Zoro chuckled, knowingly, his hand sliding up your side to give your hip a lackadaisical squeeze. 

"Nah," he shook his head, finally leaning back and allowing himself to relax in the chair. "Just needed help takin' a hint."

"So... I miss anything while you were on your trip with Luffy?" Zoro asked with a smile, slowly gliding his oar through the sparkling ocean.

You lit up with excitement, suddenly reminded of the events of the day.

"I wish I dragged you along! You woulda loved it," you sighed, leaning back in your spot in the canoe. "Turns out this island isn't as peaceful as we thought. When we went to the edge of the beach, we found tons of monster-sized crabs and lobsters, all of them strong as hell."

You smirked, holding up your fist.

"Me an' Luffy made a game over who could beat the most, while Usopp kept count. And we ended up in a draw."

'Damn.'

That blew his day fighting off women right out the water.

He should've gone with you.

"What about you? Anything interesting happen while I was away?" you asked.

"Eh," he shrugged, moving his oar to the other side. "Nothin' worth mentioning. My day was honestly pretty boring."

But he was hoping to change that.

While you were gone, he found Nami and Robin on the beach, and managed to weave through theirs sea of admirers in order to ask some advice.

Things had been going really great between the two of you, and since you were always so good with surprising him with gifts and gestures, he wanted to try his hand at it.

Of course, he had no idea where to begin.

And while Nami was little to no help, spending most of the time talking his ear off about how brutish and hopeless he was, Robin recommended taking you out to the nearby cove for a romantic night.

So, after scrounging up his island allowance and buying some booze and a canoe, he swept you away, all of the day's tribulations fading to the back of his mind as he watched you sit down in his lap.

"Y'know, this is really sweet of you, Zoro," you smiled, your fingers carefully tracing the scar across his chest. "Makin' me feel all special..."

He nodded, eyes raking over your face with an almost analytical look.

God, you were so fuckin' pretty.

It was almost baffling.

If he wasn't in this canoe—

"Figured you deserved something nice," he cleared his throat, warding off the less than decent thoughts creeping into his head.

He couldn't keep the romance up if he was too busy thinking about jumping your bones.

But little did he know... you were thinking the same thing.

Shifting your position, you rested your knees on either side of him, smoothly moving to bury your face in his neck, placing firm, meaningful kisses on his flesh. 

Instinctively, the man leaned into your touch, one of his hands coming up to steady you at the small of your back, while the other continued to paddle.

Gliding your manicured hands up his body, you rested them on his strong shoulders, using them for purchase as you continued to nip at him.

His chest rumbled with a deep hum at the feeling, relishing in the way your lips felt against his pulse point, sucking a hickey onto his skin.

Yet, just as it was getting good, you pulled away with a soft pop, moving to obscure his view of the water.

"I'm blockin' you. You can't see. What're we gonna do?" you grinned, cheekily, continuing to move in front of him as he tried to peer around you. "Oh, my Gods, we're gonna crash."

He looked up at you with a small smirk and a raised brow, amused, as you continued your antics.

"Oh, no. What's gonna happen?"

Suddenly, his hand roughly pulled you into his side, a soft squeal leaving your lips as he chuckled, allowing you to wrap your arms around his neck and continue your kissing assault while his two hands returned to the oar.

Nuzzling into the crook of his neck, you peppered lazy kisses on his skin, your hand coming up to card through the hairs at the base of his neck.

Tenderly, Zoro placed a few kisses of his own on your shoulder, his eye perking at the sight of your destination.

Robin had given him impossibly thorough instructions on how to get there, which is the only reason why you two hadn't miraculously made it to the next island.

"Hey..." he lightly nudged you as the boat approached the shore. "We're here."

Lifting your head, you carefully flew out his lap, touching down on the dry sand as he hopped into the shallow water, walking around to the back and pushing the canoe onto the shore.

"Oh, wow," you gasped, in awe at the beauty laid before you. "This is beautiful! Look at the view"

The moon hovered over the water, making the waves crystallize like diamonds below, just as the stars in the ink-black sky.

The sea breeze wafted your hair and cooled the sweat on your body from the heat of the day.

It felt good to get away from people, the serenity too nice to put off.

Suddenly, Zoro scooped you up, you in one arm and the case of booze in the other as he began walking toward the cove.

"It gets better," he smirked, leading you over to where the tall rocks flattened out and arched upward, turning themselves into a natural cabana.

Placing you down, he quickly gathered some sticks from nearby, before bringing them back and starting a fire.

And as he did so, you couldn't help but marvel at his body, thick, corded muscle flexing and extending under his skin at each minute movement, looking delicious enough to bite.

And that wasn't the blood-sucker in you talking.

You sighed in contentment as you tipped your head up towards the sky, admiring the stars twinkling above

Finishing up, Zoro plopped down beside you and threw an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his side with a proud smile.

"Nice, right?" he chuckled.

You lazily nodded, wanting to stay there forever—among the water, stars, and him.

You peered up at him through your lashes, hesitant to speak in fear of ruining the moment.

Slowly, he wrapped his arms around you, engulfing you in them. And you let yourself be pulled into him, sighing when your head met the crook of his shoulder.

You embraced him back, crushing your breasts against his hard chest. 

There, you two stayed, holding each other, linked together like magnets.

"You smell nice," he murmured into your skin, taking a deep inhale of you. "Like coconut."

You smiled, shyly, warmth rising to your cheeks at the compliment.

And after a few silent seconds, he pulled away from you, his eyes dark as the night sky.

"I'm gonna kiss you," he stated, curtly, his gaze alight with enamor.

You didn't get to say a reply, too preoccupied with the lips pressing against yours.

The kiss was hungry, your lips moving against each other's like you both were starving for one another.

And you were.

You could tell Zoro wanted the same thing you did when his hands moved below your waist to squeeze your ass, the feeling making you moan into his mouth.

He replied with his own grunt and pulled away, his eyes glazed over with lust.

"I wanna see you," he stated, his voice a deep rumble.

There was a molten tenderness in his gaze that had you shivering in pleasure and anticipation, wondering what else he had in store for you.

So you stripped.

Catching the hint, your hands glided up your back, pulling the string of your bikini top and letting your breasts fall out of the cups, along with the strings to your bottoms.

Zoro's eyes raked over the sight of you as if you were a piece of art he was admiring in a museum.

"Shit," he softly hissed to himself, amazed at the sight of your brown, hardened nipples.

You softly whimpered at his calloused hands caressing your sensitive breasts, causing him to move on to other matters.

He leaned in and latched his lips onto one of your nipples, where he began to suckle on.

You threw your head back to stare at the endless sky, your mouth open in an O as pleasured moans fell from your lips.

You couldn't help yourself, especially when Zoro began to suckle and flick his tongue along the sensitive bud of your nipple, his hand kneading your other breast in the process.

Then he switched, giving your other breast the same treatment.

Your hands found his hair, your fingers aimlessly wandering through the green strands.

You were ruining its somewhat even style, but he didn't seem to care.

He was more concerned with nibbling along your nipple, making you sharply inhale before your voice choked on a broken moan.

You couldn't take it.

All of this was going straight to your core, which was now throbbing and begging for attention between your thighs. 

"Please, Zo'..." you whined, gripping his hair. "I need you to touch me."

With a cocky smile, the man nodded, slowly leaning forward to lay you down in the sand.

Your eyes flitted up to the torch lit beach across the water, realizing any eagle-eyed person could come out and see you naked.

"Wait... what if someone sees us?" you asked, uncharacteristically timid.

A devious smirk rose to his lips, and he pressed a reassuring kiss on your lips.

"Let 'em... They'll be in for a show."

Gently, he pried your thighs open, revealing your sobbing, wet core.

You watched his face change from playful to downright feral as he stared at your cunt.

You flushed at his expression.

'Gods, give me strength...'

"Zoro, I'm serious—"

He shushed you, leaning forward to press wet kisses along your inner thighs.

"No more talkin', pretty," he growled against them. "All I wanna hear is my name on your lips."

He continued to pepper you thighs in kisses while his hands pinned your legs apart, his hold on you firm.

He didn't want you hiding from him.

And it felt good.

You didn't stop him when he dove right into your pussy, first peppering your lips and clit in open-mouthed kisses as if he was making out with them.

It had been so long since the two of you'd gotten intimate like this, you nearly forgot the way the man worked his mouth.

Especially when he started to flick his tongue against your clit.

His tongue swirled around it and flicked it gently based on your responses.

And shit, you were responding well.

Your body couldn't help but react pleasantly to the sensations—your toes curling; your back arching; your eyes fluttering shut; your mouth falling open into an O as moans and gasps fell from your lips.

Zoro was not only good with his tongue, but good with his hands.

He reached up and played with your titties, tweaking and pinching your nipples according to your verbal cues.

"H-Harder, please!" you begged, to which he pinched the hard, brown peaks a little harder, the burst of pain making you gush all over his lips.

"Fuck, Zo'," you moaned. "That feels so good..."

Zoro hummed approvingly into your cunt, the vibrations making your clit quiver pleasurably.

"Keep feelin' good for me, pretty," he said between the wet flicks of his tongue on your rosebud. "Lean back and wrap your thighs around my head f'me."

Before you could even say anything, he was already tugging you closer by your ankle, earning a squeal from you.

He stood on his knees for a moment, taking you in.

His lust-blown eyes trailed up and down your naked form, drinking in every part of you.

Then he inhaled deeply, as if struggling to process the sight in front of him.

"Christ, you're so fuckin' gorgeous," he huskily said.

You had no idea what to say to that.

All you could do was shyly smile up at him as he stared down at you, both of you enchanted with each other.

Then he was ducking back down and throwing your thighs across his shoulders with ease, wrapping your legs around his head.

This gave him better access to your pussy so he could easily tongue-fuck you.

As soon as you felt the wet muscle entering your wet folds and his nose brush against your clit you were in heaven.

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head and your hands found his hair, gripping the blonde strands as your hips began to grind shamelessly into his face.

"Mmm-hmmm," he hummed approvingly, keeping up the pace.

He didn't pause or slow down.

He continued to work your pussy just how you wanted, making you see stars behind your eyelids and cry to the moon above.

It didn't take long for that feeling of release to dawn on you.

You couldn't help it.

His tongue just felt too good.

Plus, the atmosphere and the whole idea of getting caught in such a risque position turned you on more than you'd like to admit.

Zoro must've realized you were close because his jaw started to move fast, accompanying his tongue-fucking with porn-worthy grunts of his own that nearly threw you over the edge.

"Fuck, Zoro!" you whined. "M'gonna come!"

Eagerly, he hummed into your pussy, pulling his tongue out of your hole and proceeding to suck on your clit while his finger began to stroke the outside of your slit, barely touching your insides.

But it was enough to push you further and further down that road to releasing all over him.

His darkened eyes flicked up to yours, staring you down between your thighs.

"Come for me," he demanded. "Come for me, baby. Don't fuckin' hold back."

He grinned up at you, his eyes glistening in the moonlight.

He attached his mouth to your pussy again, and ran it until you couldn't help but fall over the edge.

"Come for me," he groaned into your cunt, becoming gradually louder as your moans reached higher pitches. "Come for me. Come for me. Come for me."

And you finally did.

That tight knot in your core finally snapped and a wave of euphoria washed over you as you came all over Zoro's face and eager lips with a loud moan.

You saw the entire galaxy and beyond as your pussy gushed, your body shivering and shuddering.

Your back arched and your hips widened into Zoro's face, trying to keep as much of the feeling going as possible.

When it finally faded, you were left feeling tired, spent, and oh-so good.

Zoro lazily cleaned you up, taking care to not overstimulate you as he ran his tongue over your sensitive, twitching core.

Then he lifted his head up away from your thighs, giving you a peak of his chin and mouth shining in your juices.

With the moon in his glazed eyes, he hummed to himself.

"You taste better than the rum."

[heeseungiez]

the tower by the forest | lhs

part one!

pairings! sorcerer!lee heeseung x fem!reader

synopsis! the immortal sorcerer lives in a tower by the forest filled with dark creatures. he protects the surrounding villages from its dangers, and in exchange, every decade, a girl from one of the villages is chosen to live as his companion. this time, it’s you.

genre! fantasy romance, angst

content warnings! swearing and the fact this is unfinished so this is part one

word count! 11.4k

author's note! i'm scared of making this longer but i'm literally just halfway through...

Throughout your life, a girl from the villages has only been taken twice. And the first time, you were barely one year old, so it could hardly affect you in any way. The second time, however, you were eleven. At the time, you already understood what was happening and why. A girl around the age of twenty had been chosen to live with the lone and mysterious sorcerer who lived in a tower at the edge of the Forest to prolong his protection of the villages.

Nobody likes to talk about it much. How the girls are chosen, when he comes for them and what he does to them. None of that information is known. Although you’ve heard that usually, once the decade passes, the girls are free to go and live as they please with a solid fortune to their name. The girl you witnessed being taken away ten years ago has been released recently, and you heard from the whispers of the other villagers that she moved to the city and is starting her own business in dressmaking.

For that very reason, every village surrounding the Forest lives in restless anticipation. Any day now, a new girl will be chosen to join the sorcerer in his tower. Ten years, she will live with him and do whatever it is that she’s got to do to keep her family and friends safe from the darkness of the Forest.

You wish you could know how the girls are chosen to be better prepared. It’s glaringly obvious that some villagers think you might be the next girl chosen. You’re the perfect age for it, and apparently, there is also the fact that the girls that go to the sorcerer are usually deemed objectively beautiful or somehow talented.

You’re not exactly talented, but you’re not that beautiful either. You’d argue that Yeji or Chaeryong are far better choices in that regard, but somehow the eyes are still on you. It’s strange, knowing that everyone is convinced you will be next while you can’t see a single reason why. Maybe they just want to be rid of you. Although that is most certainly not the way the girls get chosen.

Everyone simply overestimates your talent with the violin and your voice. That has got to be it. You’re not a genius nor a prodigy, you play the instrument and sing merely because you want to. It’s a hobby, but it’s not something to make you a desirable choice for the sorcerer. And you don’t want to be his choice either. You’d rather stay in your village with your family and friends.

“Y/N!” One of those friends, Jaeyun, calls after you with a grin on his lips, waving enthusiastically. “Do you have time today? I’d like to practise together.” Because both of you play the violin. In fact, it was Jaeyun who made you fall in love with the instrument in the first place.

You smile and nod. “Of course. I always have time,” you say, although untruthfully. For Jaeyun, however, everyone makes time. He is the village’s golden boy. Loved and adored by everyone. He can talk his way into and out of anything. You’re sure he’s never paid for anything either because everyone is happy to give him everything for free — a gift for the beloved boy of Riverfeld.

Whenever you and Jaeyun visit the local tavern, the tab made on his name is never paid, and the owner has never even asked for it to be paid. It’s as if his mere existence is payment enough. But you guess that’s what happens when you’re the people’s happy pill.

“Awesome! Let’s go,” Jaeyun says, grabbing your hand.

You expect him to let you get your violin at home, but it isn’t necessary as he has done that for you. He prepared the whole scene, already knowing you would say yes because why would you not?

“Look,” Jaeyun says, grabbing a sheet that is laid by his instrument. “Sunghoon and I have been working on a new composition and I wanted to try playing it with you.”

You hum, waiting for Jaeyun to approach you. He practically sticks himself to your side with the sheet in hand, showing you the new song they’ve been working on.

It’s a love song. 

There are no lyrics, but as you imagine the sound of the melody, your imagination bringing it to life, you know it’s a ballad. A song of love meant for someone specific. A confession of adoration and admiration. 

“You think you can do this?” Jaeyun asks, solemnly looking at you.

Smiling, you nod. “Of course.”

Both of you grab your violins, sharing the singular sheet in between as you prepare. Sitting down on the ground, you settle the violin on your shoulder and rest your chin atop. A smile adorns your lips at the feeling of holding the instrument in your hands again.

“Can we?” Jaeyun asks softly, also ready. All he needs is a nod from you to lift his bow to the strings of the violin and start the melody. He acts as your guide as this is your first time playing the song. 

It starts off slowly. A sweet melody of two people getting to know each other, growing closer and beginning to care. The tempo picks up when the two lovers begin to realise they are in love. They struggle with the fear, the melody conveying the uncertainty, until finally, they gain the courage to confess. And by the time the song is over, the two lovers are together. 

“We named it Only If You Say Yes,” Jaeyun grins.

“It’s beautiful, Jaeyun,” you say, fighting the growing uneasiness within your belly. Not because of the boy across from you, but a general burning feeling in your body that spreads from your chest to the rest of your body. As if it’s pumping fire instead of blood. 

The frown that contorts your expression springs Jaeyun up to his feet, dropping by your side. “Y/N? Are you okay?” he asks, and while you’d love to nod and say yes, it would be a lie. Nothing about this scorching feeling is okay. 

You hiss and groan, grabbing onto your wrist where most of the pain begins to concentrate. It leaves your other limbs in favour of your right wrist where it burns so much you think your entire limb might melt.

The scream that escapes you is unintentional. You wanted to hold it in, but it was impossible with the pain coursing through you. Jaeyun grabs you by the shoulders, holding onto you. Confused about what is happening to you.

And as he holds you in his embrace, the pain subsides. Slowly but surely, it leaves your body the same way it entered, and you slump against the dark haired boy with your head buried in the crook of his neck.

“Y/N,” he whispers softly, one arm wrapped around your waist to support you while the other moves up to cup your face. He examines you, sweat coating your forehead. 

“My… wrist,” you breathe out, and try to pull away from Jaeyun, but his grip on you is strong, and you can barely do anything without him supporting your weight. So you wait for him to look for you.

“There’s a tattoo,” Jaeyun says, discomfited. Staring at it closer, he grabs onto your wrist. “Golden antlers,” he describes it while his fingers softly trace the pattern, and you furrow your brows, getting a look yourself. 

Jaeyun blanches with a realisation that pains him, glancing at you. “Y/N,” he mumbles, cupping both your cheeks to make you look at him. “It’s his sign.”

You both know who he is. 

Your eyes widen. “But… that can’t be,” you breathe out, shaking your head vigorously. “I know everyone thought it would be me, but I didn’t— I’m not special—”

Jaeyun smiles ruefully, disagreeing with you. “Clearly, you’re more special than you realise,” he says, voice low. “He’ll be paying us a visit soon, then.”

“I don’t want to go,” you say quietly. But what else is there to do? If you don’t go, you will put everyone you care about and other innocent souls in danger. And for what? For your own selfish reasons?

Jaeyun sighs mournfully, hands still cupping your cheeks. “What am I going to do without you for ten years?” he asks himself. 

“Live your life,” you say pragmatically, your hands grabbing his own. “It’ll be fine, right? As long as it means you’ll be safe.”

“Y/N.” Jaeyun licks his lips, wishing there was something he could do for you to make it easier. 

“It’ll be fine,” you repeat to yourself. 

It has to be fine. 

It was not supposed to happen so soon.

Usually, the Forest takes about a month or more since the previous girl’s departure to choose another. But the Forest is not dallying this time, having picked its next target.

Heeseung stares at the golden tattoo on his wrist that connects him with you, not knowing who you are just yet. He will, soon, however, as once the Forest picks a girl, she has to come to him as soon as possible.

He hates doing this, if he’s being completely honest. He’d be just fine living on his own and protecting the people, but in order to keep the darkness in check, there has to be some light. Heeseung isn’t exactly a good fit for that. Which means that every ten years, a girl with the purest of souls must live near the Forest to control it. And with a carefully crafted spell from him, the Forest gets to choose that girl by itself. 

That is the only reason he is now away from his home, riding his horse toward Riverfeld. The village where you live.

Nobody ever knows that he’s coming. He figured it’s better this way, since it stops the villagers from making a scene whenever he does arrive. He learned pretty early on, when it comes to this. He hated how awkward it was when they used to line up just to see at least the tiniest bit of his face, or when they tried to give him gifts instead of their daughters. 

Not how it works. Unfortunately. 

He’d rather take the gifts, too. 

But here he is, entering the small village almost unnoticed aside from the few glances here and there as people wonder who he is. To them, he’s a stranger, and they probably don’t get many of those. He did make sure to dress as a regular traveller, so hopefully they don’t suspect him much.

The tattoo on his wrist calls for its twin, and it pulls him toward the village’s tiny square. A stage has been set up in the centre, and a girl and a boy sit there, both playing the violin together, creating a beautiful song of wistful love. 

A concept Heeseung isn’t familiar with, but he does like the sound of it. It’s a youthful song full of hope. Asking for acceptance where it truly can be found. 

His eyes fixate on the girl playing. 

You.

You are smiling brightly despite knowing your fate, and you don’t stop playing until the song is well and truly over. Both you and the boy stand to bow to the audience when they begin to clap and fawn over you and your talent. 

You keep shaking your head, acting as if you deserve none of it. And the boy throws an arm around your shoulders with a grin, proud for the both of you. Another boy, taller than the other, joins and celebrates with you.

So Heeseung waits. Until everyone around you has said their praising piece to you. Until you’re well and truly alone, and the smile from your lips has dissipated the tiniest bit because you know what will eventually come. That these people who adore you will not be with you for long. That you will have to leave them.

You’re not surprised when he approaches you as a complete stranger. Instead, you look him in the eye and face him directly. “It’s you, isn’t it?” you ask, examining him from head to toe. “You’re the sorcerer.”

It takes a second for Heeseung to recover from it. He has met many girls over the years, each different but same in spirit, and he never thought much of them. But you stand in front of him with a pensive smile, accepting what is to come. There is a beauty to you that many probably don’t see. Though you are gorgeous in general, with big cheeks yet defined features, hair falling over your shoulders. One would have to be blind not to see it.

“Am I that obvious?” he asks, and you shake your head. 

“I think it’s the tattoo,” you reply. “I can sense it. You have it too, right?”

You’re quite clever.

Heeseung nods, and rolls up the sleeve of his cape to show you his identical tattoo. “It connects us,” he says plainly.

You hum. A playful glint enters your gaze, and your smile grows slightly. “I thought you’d be older,” you say matter-of-factly. “You look—”

“Handsome?” He cuts you off because he does not like it when people say he looks young. He knows he looks young. He’s looked the same for the past two centuries, and will continue to do so for as long as the Forest exists.

“My age,” you finish instead. Not young, just your age. That is certainly a new way to describe what he looks like. And he decides at this very moment that he likes it the best. Yes, he can accept looking your age — whatever it actually is. “But I suppose handsome is also a reasonable descriptor,” you add, eyeing his face.

This time, Heeseung is truly robbed of words. Whenever he arrives to take a girl to the Forest, they’re usually afraid of him. The last thing they’d call him is handsome. Yet here you are, standing in front of him, calm and accepting. You’re not crying, screaming or begging to stay. You just are. (a/n: Very demure, very mindful.)

“You should stay for a bit before we leave. My parents are making supper that could feed the whole village. It would be rude to leave before we got to taste it.” You don’t wait for Heeseung’s response before you are making your way toward what he deduces is your home. It’s humble enough, a house fit for a family of four, perhaps. But when you enter, it is filled with more than four people.

The two boys that Heeseung saw with you at the performance are both present alongside some older villagers and a girl some years younger than you. He’s not even sure why he followed you anyway. He should’ve stayed outside and waited for you to say your goodbyes. That’s usually the standard procedure for him, so why is he thoughtlessly breaking tradition all of a sudden?

“Y/N! Who’s—”

“That’s the sorcerer,” you say nonchalantly, shrugging.

“But why—”

“I’m not a monster,” Heeseung speaks, facing the boy you played the violin with. “I won’t take her away without saying her goodbyes… and it’s Heeseung.”

“Who?” you ask.

“Me.”

“You what?”

“Heeseung.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“My name is Heeseung.” He rolls his eyes, lips in a thin line.

“Oh! Well, I’m Y/N. Then this is Jaeyun, Sunghoon, Mum, Dad, Mrs Sim, Mr Sim, Mrs Park, Mr Park and Sunghoon’s little sister.” You point at everyone respectively with a soft smile upon your features. “I’m guessing Jongseong forgot he was supposed to come?” you say more to yourself, but Jaeyun hums in agreement.

“He’s been working on the new guitar that he’s trying to make,” he responds. “Forgets he has other duties or the fact he should, you know, eat and drink and sleep to live.”

“Said it’s for you, though,” Sunghoon mumbles, glancing at you. “He thought he’d have enough time to finish it.” Then he throws an apprehensive glance at Heeseung.

“But I don’t play the guitar,” you reply with a pout.

“He was going to teach you…”

Look, the next words that leave Heeseung’s mouth will probably make him regret it later, but watching you with your friends is doing weird things to the organ in his chest he thought had long been forgotten. So it’s a surprise to not just you and your friends when he says: “I know how to play the guitar. If your friend will not mind it, I will allow that guitar to be sent to you.”

The way your eyes widen in sheer surprise and gratitude makes Heeseung think that maybe it’s not such a regretful action. 

The Forest must’ve truly known what it was doing this time around. Everyone in this village seems to genuinely adore you. The purest of hearts among them all, living without the knowledge of it.

“I’m here! I’m here! I got it!” A boy bursts through the door with a guitar in hand, and Heeseung makes the safe assumption that this is Jongseong. Even in him, Heeseung can sense a very beautiful soul through and through, though the innocence is gone. 

It makes sense that you would surround yourself with people just as lovely as you on the inside. Whether you knew it or not.

“JJ,” you coo when he goes toward you with the instrument to hand it to you. “Why would you do all this for me?”

“So you remember me. Us. To come back to us.”

It occurs to Heeseung then that all three of these boys around you love you. As friends or more that is out of his field of knowledge, but the love between you is raw and just as pure and innocent as you are. 

“I could never forget you guys.” You smile and shake your head. “All three of you better be married and with kids by the time I’m back, though.”

“It’s not fair,” Jaeyun says, properly looking at Heeseung. “She’s a good person. Never done anything wrong in her life. Why—”

“I know,” Heeseung cuts him off, shaking his head. “That’s why.” Maybe being curt with them is not the best choice, but they won’t dare attack him.

“Nothing in this life is fair,” Jongseong murmurs sagely, his eyes finding you. But you are staring at Heeseung, brow arched with curiosity.

“Y/N! Boys! Come eat! Supper is done.”

Your parents did not say much when you introduced the sorcerer to them. They merely stared to assess him as if a mere look could tell them what kind of person he was. But, whatever their consensus was, they let him eat supper with you, so it was probably quite positive.

“Won’t deny supper to the man who fights to protect us on a daily basis,” your mother murmured before you all sat down at the table to eat.

You enjoyed yourself for the rest of the day because Heeseung let you. He was letting you say your goodbyes before ultimately whisking you away to his tower, and you appreciated it. 

Everything is going to be fine, you constantly remind yourself. 

Especially as you saddle your horse with Sunghoon’s help because he’s the tallest of your friends. Jay and Jake help carry your bags and attach them to the white mare. 

Heeseung says the ride to the tower will take a few days, which means that your mother packed enough food to last you a month. It’s a bitter kind of goodbye, knowing that you’re leaving to protect the ones you love. You still don’t really want to leave.

You never imagined yourself leaving home before. But now you have to.

“Are you ready?” Heeseung asks, his inquisitive gaze searching your expression for whatever lie you want to tell him.

And you smile, shaking your head. “Not really,” you reply honestly. “But I have to do this, don’t I?”

Heeseung blinks at you, discomfited by your transparency. “Yes,” he says. “The Forest chose you, and its decision is final.”

“Then I’m as ready as I can be.” You purse your lips, nodding. “Let’s go.”

Heeseung is not a very chatty sorcerer. Like, you haven’t known any sorcerers before him, of course, but the books usually depict them as these supernatural and immortal beings who like to have fun. Heeseung is anything but that. He is quiet and brooding. He only speaks up when it’s important, and you decided it would be better not to ask him many questions while you’re travelling lest you annoy him too much.

But by the second night of staying over at a tavern while on the road, it brings you a sense of peace. Usually, you’re not a fan of lack of communication, but with the sorcerer, it seems to be its own form of speaking and conveying what needs to be known.

You lie on the bed, reading a book provided to you by the innkeeper, biting your bottom lip as you wonder whether the sorcerer would scold you for daring to speak at him. He sits on the chair near the fireplace, merely gazing into the fire in silence.

Sighing, he turns his head ever so slightly to glance at you from the corner of his eye. “If you have something to say, then say it,” he grumbles before his attention is snatched away by the snapping fire again.

You shift in your seat, allowing yourself to fully stare at the sorcerer. His hair is as dark as night, loosely framing his face in waves. His honey-glazed skin looks slightly darker with just the fire casting light upon him, and despite his tall frame and broad shoulders, it seems he makes himself smaller in his chair. He must be exhausted.

“Can I ask a question?”

There is silence at first as if Heeseung ponders whether to say yes or no. Then, he responds, “Isn’t that already one? What stops you from asking another?” He doesn’t even look at you as he speaks, and your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. “I appreciate you being considerate, but if there is something on your mind, just say it. I’ll decide whether I want to answer or not.”

Closing your book, you put it aside. You allow yourself to admire the sorcerer from afar, quite taken by his beauty. Though that is not what you need to quell your mind. “So…” you start, unsure of how to word your question. Though what you come up with is not exactly an elegant way to ask either. “Why me?”

You’re met with another round of silence. It almost feels like a decade of stillness, the only sounds made inside the room being your breathing and the crackling fire. But the sorcerer finally turns to you, swallowing whatever comes to his mind at first to give you a composed answer. “Because the Forest chose you,” he says plainly. “And once the Forest chooses, it cannot be undone.”

“The Forest?” You furrow your brows in confusion. “I thought you chose the girls that stay with you?”

Heeseung shakes his head. “That is not how it works. I made the spell that chooses the girls, but ultimately, it is the Forest itself that chooses which girl must live near it.” The solemn expression in his eyes makes you stop for a moment and think about it.

The girls are taken in order for the sorcerer to protect the surrounding villages from the Forest. And now you know that the Forest chooses the girls itself at that. It makes sense, in a strange way. Because you still don’t understand why you only need to live near it, for it sounds like the girls should be some sort of sacrifice to the Forest. Except you will be allowed to go back to your old life after ten years.

“Then how exactly does that work?” you ask, frowning. “If the Forest chooses the girls, what are the specifics? And what do we do? We just live with you?”

“Yes,” Heeseung answers with a sigh. Licking his lips, he glances back at the fire, then at you. “The Forest is a dark place. In order to control it, there needs to be light. Which is when you come in,” he explains, pointing at your heart. He makes a pause, checking your expression to see whether you were still listening to him, only to find you intently staring at his face, not missing a single word that left his mouth. Clearing his throat, he continued, “I designed my spell in a way for the Forest to find the purest soul within the radius of the villages. This time, it’s you.” 

You purse your lips in thought. Never in your life have you thought of yourself as somebody with a pure soul, but apparently that is who you are, according to the sorcerer and his spell. Which is what got you into this situation of having to leave your childhood home and friends. Because the Forest chose you.

“Wait,” you say, a thought coming to you suddenly.

“Yes?” Heeseung raises his brow, watching your expression slowly change into that of distress.

“If the Forest chose me…” you start, frowning, “Does that mean that the creatures of the Forest would be after me? Whether I am at home or—”

“Yes.” The sorcerer nods in affirmation. “That is part of the magic. The Forest is drawn to you, and therefore, it makes my job of protecting the other villages from monsters that much easier. Since all of them are, well… headed for the tower.”

“For me, you mean.”

Heeseung gives a thin smile. “Even now, the Forest is already searching for you. But while we are on the way, and you are with me, you should be hidden until we reach the tower.”

“You didn’t have to tell me that,” you mumble, wondering how you’re going to fall asleep now, knowing that there are monsters specifically looking for you. Which means that, in a way, you are a sacrifice to the Forest, after all. The sorcerer just protects you and the other villages from them by killing said monsters.

“You asked,” he says with a shrug. “Nobody has ever asked before, so I’m not sure to what extent you’re interested in the topic,” he adds.

It occurs to you then, that maybe the only reason Heeseung hasn’t spoken much is because the other girls never had any interest in speaking to him due to the circumstances. He’s being distant simply because that’s how it’s always been for him.

“So, what exactly am I to do at the tower, once we get there?” you ask to continue the conversation. And unlike you thought, Heeseung does not seem annoyed by your questions at all.

“Whatever you want to do,” he replies. “I have an extensive library if you’re fond of reading. I can teach you to play the guitar your friend gave you. You can choose to pick up whatever hobby you want. All you have to do is just… live there as if it were your home for the next ten years so I can continue to protect your real home and other villages.”

“Okay,” you say, smiling, which takes Heeseung by surprise (again). “That sounds like a good deal, I suppose. I will miss my friends and family dearly, but I can do this.”

The Forest chose far too well, this time around, Heeseung thinks to himself and shakes his head. He’s been doing this for centuries, and he has never met anyone quite like you.

Home.

Heeseung lets out a huge sigh of relief when he finally steps inside the tower that has been his beloved home for many, many years. You trail behind him nervously, all of your luggage already sent to your room with a single flick of his hand. You’re not used to such magic just yet, but as time will pass, nothing will be able to surprise you later on.

Although Heeseung has still been keeping rather quiet around you, you felt more comfortable simply speaking at him because you knew he was listening. During the remainder of your travels, you told him much about your life at home and your friends. Oftentimes, if you asked a question regarding his life, you would wait for his answers even if it took him minutes to respond.

“Let me show you all the important rooms,” Heeseung says to you, the corner of his lips lifting in a smile. He’s not sure what it is about you that makes him behave this way, but your aura seems to wear off on him, too. He’s caught himself smiling more often than usual.

When you nod, he starts the tour with the library. You had told him you weren’t that big of a fan of reading, but whenever you had the time and the mood, you liked to nestle with a good book. He also shows you the kitchen, the washing rooms, his office and your bedroom. There are more rooms within the tower, but for now, Heeseung leaves those doors closed.

“Unpack and make yourself at home,” he says, pointing at the plain room. It is not the same one as the girls before you have had, for this one is much closer to his bedroom and office. He knows he probably shouldn’t have done that, but this strange feeling in his chest told him that he might need to keep a much closer eye on you than the other girls.

“Okay,” you say, nodding. “What will you be doing?”

“I’m going to make us supper,” Heeseung informs you.

“Oh. You can cook?” you ask brightly, and the sorcerer scrunches his nose, shaking his head.

“I hope you like bread with butter.”

You blink at him, speechless. “Who doesn’t like bread and butter?” You tilt your head to the side. “But that isn’t all you eat whenever you’re at the tower, is it?”

Heeseung presses his lips together. “No?” he lies, and you narrow your eyes at him.

“You must let me cook, then!” you claim, ready to storm past him into the kitchens rather than to unpack your things, but Heeseung places his hands on each of your arms to stop you from going anywhere.

“I don’t have any ingredients for cooking,” he says, shaking his head.  “Unless you are the one with magic, capable of making food out of thin air.”

“Well…” You pout, looking into the sorcerer’s eyes. “I do not have magic, but I know a hefty trick for getting ingredients.” You grin, aware of Heeseung’s hands still on you. “It’s called shopping.”

“You can’t leave the tower on your own,” Heeseung sighs. “It’s too dangerous. It won’t happen.”

“Then come with me,” you suggest nonchalantly, still smiling. “You will protect me, and I will make sure we have proper supper. Did the other girls truly agree to living on plain bread and butter?” Your brow furrowed, and Heeseung shrugged.

“Sometimes we had meat,” he says.

“I’m surprised they lasted ten years like this.” You shake your head in disbelief. “We live in modern times. There is much more food to eat than just bread and butter and meat.”

“I never needed anything more,” Heeseung grumbles.

“Well, now you do,” you say finally, crossing your arms. “Tomorrow, first thing in the morning, we are visiting the closest village and visiting their market for ingredients.”

“As long as it’s not too early,” Heeseung says defeatedly.

Living with the sorcerer was much easier than you thought it would be. Even if he constantly complains about you waking him up far too early for chores such as shopping for ingredients. 

Today, however, when you approach his door to wake him up as usual, he opens the door right in front of your nose, pushing a cloak toward you. “Here. With this, you can go to the village on your own.”

“But… it’s a cloak.” You pouted, eyeing the piece of black fabric. It had a slight purple shimmer to it, however, and when the sorcerer spoke next, it confirmed your suspicions.

“It’s enchanted. To protect you from the Forest. It shouldn’t be able to track you while you’re wearing it. So put it on and let me sleep.” Heeseung runs a hand through his hair.

You raise your brow at him, noticing the dark bags under his eyes. “Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today,” you attempt to tease him, but he merely sighs.

“More like someone didn’t wake up in the bed because they haven’t even gone to bed yet, trying to figure out the enchantment on this damned thing.” He points at the cloak indignantly. “I need my beauty sleep. I can’t keep going to the market with you,” he whines.

This is the revered sorcerer who protects the people from monsters that you got to know. He’s not any different from your friends other than the fact that he’s centuries older, yet somehow his mind seems to be stuck at a specific age — perhaps that is a thing of immortality. Because one doesn’t age, their mind nor body does not develop any further.

“Well, I was never forcing you to,” you say, finally accepting the cloak from him. “But thank you. I’ll make sure to wear this well.”

“Good.” The sorcerer nods.

“You know you could’ve just told me to stop going to the market if you don’t like it so much, right?” you ask, tilting your head to the side. “You’re the one with power here. And I’m the one in danger.”

Heeseung licks his lips and shrugs. “That means you’d stop cooking, though,” he says, not keen on admitting that he prefers your meals to anything he’s had in the last several decades. “Just… go by yourself. And make sure to come back in one piece.”

“How are you so sure I won’t just run away?” you keep questioning him, and he rolls his eyes this time.

“You see this?” He grabs your wrist, pointing at the magical tattoo created by his spell. “We’re connected, Y/N, remember? I will find you wherever you go. But it also means the Forest could do the same thing. Eventually, the enchantment on this cloak could wear out, and if you get stuck somewhere without me and something from the Forest comes for you, then you’ll have nobody but yourself to blame.”

You bite your lip, nodding. He’s certainly made his point. Not that you ever truly considered leaving on your own. You truly are not well equipped to fight monsters on your own. “I understand,” mumbling the response, you yank your wrist out of Heeseung’s grasp.

“Sorry,” Heeseung sighs, rubbing his eyes leisurely. “I don’t mean to be so… irritable. I’m just—”

“Tired,” you finish for him, offering a thin smile. “I know. And I’m thankful for this, really.” You raise the cloak. “Get all the sleep you need, Heeseung. I’ll make sure to come back and prepare breakfast in the meantime.”

“Okay,” he says, allowing himself to grace you with the tiniest smile. Heeseung doesn’t smile often, so the few times that he does, it’s a precious sight. One to be remembered for days to come.

“I’ll get going now. Sleep well, Heeseung.”

As always, the market is buzzing with its early morning magic. Farmers from around the village and many other merchants have their stands prepared, beckoning anyone who shows even the smallest bit of interest in any of their wares. You always like to buy something from each to help them. Besides, the sorcerer’s resources are not exactly limited the same way your family’s used to be.

“No sorcerer today, Miss?” asks the farmer whose wares you’re eyeing. He’s an older man with grey streaks in his hair, and you remember him mainly because he’s always been the nicest to Heeseung out of all the villagers. While the others treat him with distrust and fear, this man has been nothing but respectful. 

“Unfortunately, he chose not to make the trip.” You give a thin smile, shaking your head. “But I plan to make a nice breakfast for him. So, what would you say are your best products today?”

“The sweet potatoes.” A new voice joins the conversation. A boy probably around your age steps into your view, grinning from you to the farmer. “They’ve been growing really well this season.”

“I see,” you hum, examining the newcomer. His big eyes and warm smile are incredibly inviting, and you hope you will see him more often from now on. “I’ll take five, then.”

“Great choice,” the boy says cheerfully, immediately getting to work. “I’m Taehyun, by the way. Are you the new girl living with the sorcerer? It’s a bit novel for us that you’re here since they used to always stay at the tower.”

You smile, making a noncommittal noise. “I’m Y/N. And I think this is new for everyone involved.”

“I’m glad you’re here. It would be a waste for someone so pretty to rot away at the tower,” Taehyun claims, handing you a bag of the best sweet potatoes that he could pick in their batch.

“Stop flirting with the customers, son,” the elder farmer scolds, glancing between you and Taehyun.

Your cheeks burn due to the unexpected compliment. While you are used to your friends telling you that you’re pretty, it’s quite different when it comes from someone you don’t know. “It’s okay, sir. Thank you.”

Taehyun grins, his doe eyes lighting up. “Do you need any more help? I want to ask you some things,” he says, and you turn to his father with furrowed brows.

“What about—”

“Don’t worry, Miss. I’m not that old.” He chuckles, letting Taehyun do whatever he wants. “Besides, you were always curious why I don’t regard the sorcerer with the same apprehensiveness as the others, no?”

You blink at the man. “I suppose yes, but how is that—”

“I have magic,” Taehyun answers simply. “It’s nothing quite grand like the sorcerer’s, but I have it. Look.” Lifting up a sweet potato, Taehyun makes it float in the air, just above his hand. Then, with a snap of his fingers, the potato vanishes and appears back in its original box.

“Woah. That’s still impressive,” you say. “Isn’t it rare, still? To have magic.”

“I think so. But apparently, I wasn’t powerful enough to be allowed to study about it more in the capital.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” You pout, but Taehyun shakes his head.

“Don’t be. I learned all I needed to know on my own. And now I get to help my parents with the farm, and don’t have to leave them.” Taehyun smiles, sharing a fond look with his father. 

“That is admirable.” You nod, your affection growing for the boy in front of you with every passing second. Besides, you’re possibly going to see him more often, so why not make a new friend?

“So would you like any help? I can carry a lot on my own.” Taehyun speaks proudly, and you giggle, watching him flexing his arms the tiniest bit just to show off.

“If it is okay with your father that I steal you for myself, then I wouldn’t mind another hand, since Heeseung decided to miss out today,” you agree, your heart swelling at the sight of Taheyun’s toothy smile.

“Completely okay,” the farmer says, shaking his head amusedly.

“So, what are you looking for?” Taehyun claps his hands, plastering himself to your side. “I can recommend all the best stands for everything.”

“That would be lovely, thank you so much.”

“It’s no problem, Y/N. I’m really just trying to spend the most time possible with you.”

You giggle again, taken aback by the boy’s frankness. “I’m not that special, you know?”

“And yet you’re all I want to see.” Taehyun’s lines are smooth, making your face feel hotter than the sun. “Come on, would you like to know where to get the best bread around here?”

And so you follow. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have let Taehyun help you all the way back to the tower, but he was so insistent. You couldn’t tell him no. Especially with his large deer eyes. They almost reminded you of Heeseung’s. 

Almost.

Until he stands in the kitchen, looking well-rested, glaring at Taehyun’s figure. To him, he’s a complete stranger in his home, and you invited him in without asking for permission.

“What is this?” he asks, pointing at Taehyun who has been diligently helping you put all your newly acquired items away. He intended to stay in his study until you’d call for him, but then he heard laughter bouncing off the walls of the tower, and it filled him with dread. “I let you out by yourself once, and you bring a stranger to my home?”

“Technically, it’s also my home for the next ten years,” you argue, shaking your head. “And Taehyun is very sweet.” Smiling at him, Taehyun gives you a grateful nod.

“Just because you think someone is sweet, doesn’t mean it’s still not dangerous to let a stranger into the Tower.” Heeseung scoffs, running a hand through his hair. “Do you realise how dangerous that is? Maybe I shouldn’t let you go out anymore…” he speaks to himself, but you and Taehyun can hear him perfectly well.

“You can’t be serious. Just because the other girls were fine staying inside, I’m most definitely not going to be,” you say, putting your foot down.

“It would be for your own good,” the sorcerer says matter-of-factly.

“My good, or your benefit?” You raise a brow at him. Heeseung’s face contorts in anger for the briefest of moments before he schools his expression, staring you down.

“My benefit? You think any of this is beneficial to me?” he asks you calmly, but it’s somehow more terrifying than if he had exploded with fury. “I have been fighting whatever creatures come outside of the forest for centuries, and I don’t even know why, or why I have to. How in the world could that be beneficial to me?” The question is aimed at you, but it’s clear that it is rhetorical — something he has long given up on finding the answer to.

If you weren’t furious with the sorcerer, you would’ve empathised with him, but all you could hear in your head right now was his threat to keep you locked away in his tower by the forest. “Sorry, I misspoke,” you correct yourself, frowning. “I just meant that you’re the reason why I even have to be here.”

“You think I enjoy that?” Heeseung tilts his head, glaring at you this time. “Fine! Whatever. You are free to leave of your own free will, Y/N. Since you’re, oh, so fine without me.” He says, looking at Taehyun this time. A different emotion flashes in his eyes as he presses his lips tightly together. “I’m sure he would love to protect you anyway,” Heeseung scoffs and runs a hand over his face. 

Your face falls as you glance at Taehyun and then look back at Heeseung. “What do you mean?”

“Y/N—” Taehyun attempts to speak, but Heeseung only laughs. It’s such a deprived sound it almost scares you.

“Are you telling me you don’t know that the person you brought here is currently the youngest Sorcerer General? That he works for the capital as one of the most powerful sorcerers aside from me?” 

“What?” This time, you turn to Taehyun fully. “But you said— did you lie to me?” you ask softly, and as Taehyun apologetically stares down at his feet, licking his lips, you know that he, in fact, did lie to you. “Was the farmer truly your father?”

“Yes! Yes, he was!” Taehyun exclaims immediately, shutting his eyes close tightly before meeting yours again. “That’s why I came to the village. Because he told me that Heeseung has been coming there with you… so the capital sent me.”

“Oh.” You step away from Taehyun, not knowing how to feel. “But you still lied to me.”

“Y/N, I’m sorry— I just didn’t want to scare you off—”

“So you made up a whole lie about how you were helping at the family farm with your magic?” you scoff, shaking your head.

“You should’ve been honest with her.” Heeseung chuckles, rolling his eyes. “Y/N is the most honest person I’ve ever met, so the truth would have hardly scared her off.”

You look at the sorcerer, surprised to hear those words leave his mouth. You’re never sure what exactly he thinks of you, but somehow, knowing that he considers you an honest person warms your heart. He certainly must’ve met many liars in his lifetime. And Taehyun is clearly one of them.

“Yes. So whatever you or the capital want from me, or from Heeseung, just leave us alone. Let them know he’s doing his job just fine.”

“Is he, though?” Taehyun questions, staring at you. “He did let you out of his sight this morning.”

“I have protections placed on me,” you claim, but Taehyun laughs dryly.

“If you mean that flimsy scuffed cloak, then I doubt it was powerful enough to protect you from a monster that wants to directly attack you,” he says, unimpressed. “So, I’d dare say he should do his job better.”

“You little—”

“Don’t.” You sigh tiredly, stepping in front of Taehyun. “I can sense animosity between the two of you, but I’m not willing to hear it. I’m sorry, Heeseung, I see your point, I’ve made a mistake.”

“You don’t need to apologise to him, of all people,” Taehyun says from behind you, and you turn to face him, meeting his big eyes with a blank stare.

“Whatever your problem is with Heeseung, I don’t care. You lied to me, and I don’t appreciate it. The last thing you get to do is insult Heeseung under his roof.” You place your hands on your hips, frowning. “Either be nice, or stay quiet.”

Taehyun clenches his hands into fists, glaring back at Heeseung. But he gives in, sighing in defeat. “He’s not just the reason you have to be living in this tower for the next ten years, you know?” He tells you quietly, enough for Heeseung not to hear. “He’s also the reason the Forest is as dangerous as it is. That’s why he’s the only one tasked with fighting it. So don’t think he’s being honest with you either.”

Colour drains from your face as you listen to him. This time, you’re certain it is the truth because of the graveness in Taehyun’s voice. Though you don’t understand why he’s being secretive about it. Why doesn’t he say it directly even to Heeseung?

Shaking his head, Taehyun moves to leave. “If you ever need help, let me know. I’ll be around, making sure that Heeseung is doing his job well.”

“Dickhead,” the taller sorcerer murmurs under his breath even before Taehyun departs entirely, possibly having heard him. But he didn’t react in any way, simply leaving you alone with Heeseung once again.

You look at Heeseung, not knowing what to think of him now. Though when he smiles at you as if nothing happened, you want to forget Taehyun’s harrowing words.

“Do you need any help with breakfast? I can fry eggs.”

Despite Taehyun’s words, you continued going to the market on your own. You noticed a deer following you around whenever you did so, and you assumed it was another one of Heeseung’s protective precautions to keep you away from danger.

Whenever you come across Taehyun now, he has this distinct look on his face of sharing a secret with you that Heeseung doesn’t know about. Of course, you didn’t tell him. How could you relay such information onto him, not knowing how he’d take it? How would one react to finding out they are the reason so many lives are in danger?

“Ah, crap!” you curse under your breath after what feels like the millionth time of failing to strike the correct chord on the guitar from Jongseong. It shouldn’t be difficult considering your expertise with the violin, but you’re struggling regardless. 

You close your eyes, knowing it’s probably because you can’t focus. You keep thinking back to Taehyun’s words and how it’s somehow his fault that the forest is dangerous. Which also means he is the reason why you’re in danger, and why the forest wants to take you. Though you don’t know how, or what it means.

“Do you plan to torture the poor instrument for long?” Heeseung, as if hearing your thoughts, appears in the music room with a soft, amused smile playing on his lips.

“Sorry,” you say instantly, looking up at him. “I simply can’t seem to figure it out.”

“Allow me.” Heeseung steps closer to you, outstretching his hand to take the guitar.

You let him, watching him nestle next to you on the small sofa that you had chosen for practice. With a smile, he begins playing a song that both sounds foreign and familiar to you. The melody begins merrily, yet as it goes on, the song turns into a mixture of fury and betrayal. A tale that strikes to the very core of your heart, leaving you breathless. 

“What song was that?” you ask once the sorcerer is finished. 

“I don’t know,” he replies honestly. “It’s just been on my mind for a while…” Heeseung tries to hide his confusion, but not even he knew that these emotions have been festering within him.

“Here.” He hands the guitar back to you. 

Accepting it, you let the instrument sit on your lap while Heeseung moves to kneel on the ground in front of you. He’s tall enough to still be at eye level with you, and you startle when his fingers brush against your hand. 

“Sorry, allow me,” he says quietly, taking your hand in his and placing your fingers on the strings of the guitar. “I’m going to teach you some basic chords first, so you don’t torture the guitar at random.”

You blink at him, not sure how to react. With the sorcerer this close to you, it’s hard to process anything, let alone his words. All you can hear is intense buzzing in your ears, and the storm within your heart. 

Gulping, you nod carefully. Heeseung smiles, guiding your fingers along the strings to show you each chord, making sure that you understand everything perfectly. 

It becomes easier when you know the chords. Now that you can connect each sound to what you already know, it doesn’t seem as difficult anymore. With a grin, you find yourself playing the very melody Jaeyun and Sunghoon composed, and it makes you miss home — though in a good way.

Being here means they are safe. That is what matters most. 

“You’re a natural,” Heeseung says, but the proud feeling is gone within moments.

He makes an expression unfamiliar to you as his eyes roam the music room, and you wonder what he is thinking. He abruptly stands up instead, walking toward the window with a frown.

“Stay here,” he commands, closing the window. You shouldn’t be surprised when he disappears as fast as he appeared, but it hurts the tiniest bit.

You watch him head to the forest from your closed window, wishing for him to have told you that he had sensed danger and needed to leave instead of departing almost without a word. 

After hours had passed, you considered running to the village over to find Taehyun so he’d help you find Heeseung somewhere inside the Forest. But as you open the door of the Tower, Heeseung comes stumbling through the entrance, collapsing on the floor with blood splattered all over his clothes. 

“Heeseung!” You cry out, going to examine him and his wounds instantly. He groans when you turn him to his back, and you notice a large bite from what you can only assume was an oversized wolf on his shoulder. “What happened?” you mumble. 

“Your music,” Heeseung whispers. “It’s—”

“No, shh.” Putting your hand over his mouth, you shut him up. “I need to treat your wounds first. Then you can explain yourself,” you say, heart pounding in your ears. 

Heeseung is an immortal sorcerer. This is probably not as severe as it looks to him, but it doesn’t change the fact that it worries you. That you are worried for him.

From the kitchen, you grab a dittany solution and a piece of cloth to wash the wound with, before finding a kit for wound-treating in the bathroom.

Your hands shake while you tear Heeseung’s tunic off of him for better access to the wound. It allows you to see not only his toned chest and stomach, but also the many scars that tatter his honey-coloured skin. 

Pouring the solution over his shoulder, you ignore the hiss he lets out, grateful that he isn’t fighting you. 

You do your best to wash the bleeding wound before dressing and wrapping it in bandages. See, being close to three boys of your age gave you some expertise in treating wounds, but it had never been this severe before. It was never a large bite from a monster of the Forest. 

“I need to get you to your room,” you say weakly, wrapping your arm around Heeseung’s torso. “Can you move?” 

The sorcerer doesn’t respond with words, but he doesn’t let you use all your strength to carry him around either. While most of his weight is still on your shoulders as he drapes his arm over your shoulders, he does his best to walk on his own. 

You never complained about the stairs in the Tower before, but today is the day when they seem to be your absolute doom. Luckily, Heeseung’s bedroom is not too far up. 

Huffing and puffing by the time you reach the door to Heeseung’s room, you’re happy to find relief in opening the door that leads into a large bedroom with… almost nothing inside. Sure, there are some books and a desk, but other than a bed, the room is painfully empty and plain.

You have no time to question it. Instead, you lead Heeseung toward his bed, helping him lie down. But when you want to leave him to rest, he grabs your wrist, not letting you go.

“Heeseung, you need to rest.”

“Don’t leave,” he says, shaking his head. “Stay, please.”

“Heeseung—”

“I need you here.”

“That’s—”

Heeseung, with what strength he has left, pulls you toward him onto the bed. You fall on top of his chest with a yelp, and you seem to be the only one bothered about it. Especially when the sorcerer wraps his arms around you, refusing to let go of you.

“It’s you the Forest wants. He won’t let you go. I can’t protect you if you’re not with me,” he rambles into your hair, strangely frantic. Though you write it off as a side-effect of his injury.

“He can’t have you, Eunjin. Please don’t leave me. You’re my heart.”

Eunjin.

Who’s Eunjin?

When Heeseung wakes up, it’s in a cold sweat. The room spins in his vision, and when it finally settles on the open window, he can only feel a strange sense of emptiness. 

Attempting to move is a terrible idea. Heeseung groans in pain, hand reaching for the bandaged shoulder that you treated. The wound is still fresh, but you made sure to keep it from getting infected. 

His recollection of yesterday’s events is blurry, but he does remember you helping him to his room and him asking you to stay. So finding his room cold and empty without your presence hurts. Not that he would admit such a thing out loud. 

Heeseung is supposed to be the aloof,  mysterious and brooding sorcerer from the Tower, yet you’ve made him smile more times than he can count in the past months that he fears more than usual for your safety. 

He always managed to keep a professional relationship with the other women during his time as Keeper of the Forest, one could say, because keeping distance between himself and people who didn’t want to be here was never hard. However, it proves to be difficult with you. Especially when you act like you actually enjoy his company rather than him being a nuisance in your corner. 

You enter Heeseung’s room without knocking. Though in your defence, you did not expect him to be awake just yet. Breakfast is clutched in your hands, ready to be served to Heeseung on an actual silver platter. 

“Oh. Good morning,” you say softly with a tiny smile. “Are you feeling alright?”

The sigh of relief that leaves Heeseung’s lips at the sight of you and the knowledge of your safety is unfamiliar to him. Obviously, he has always worried for the women staying with him, but never this much. Not when he is the one who got hurt. 

Besides, they never brought him breakfast to bed either. In fact, nobody has ever done that, as far as Heeseung is aware. So maybe the way his heart begs to jump out of his chest when you approach him is an entirely reasonable reaction. 

“I could be better,” Heeseung replies quickly, when he notices a frown forming on your lips because he was quiet for too long. “You didn’t have to do all this,” he says. 

“But you got hurt.” You shake your head in disapproval. “I feel like this is the least I can do,” you sigh, running a hand through your hair. 

A sigh of defeat leaves your lips. One that Heeseung is familiar with as he has felt powerlessness many times before. But the last thing you are is powerless. You don’t even know it, but the reason Heeseung had to leave yesterday was specifically because you’re too powerful.

Your music is its own kind of magic, and unfortunately, it lures the creatures of the Forest directly to you. But Heeseung can’t tell you that. Music is an important part of your life, and he’s willing to fight whatever comes for you rather than disappoint you or make you upset. 

There is also this underlying feeling of having come across this kind of magic before. It was from… he cannot not remember who had the magic or when exactly in his life he came across it. Yet he knows it’s important. This person who wielded this magic meant something. Whoever they were. 

“All I need from you is to be safe,” Heeseung says almost too intimately, surprising even himself. Your lips part in shock as you stare at him, hands tightly gripping onto the tray with breakfast. 

Gulping, you nod. “I am safe.” 

You dare moving closer to Heeseung, offering the freshly made breakfast to him with a timid smile, which he accepts gratefully. It isn’t just the tea you prepared that makes him feel warm inside. 

“Please, rest now. I promise not to leave the Tower while you recover,” you reassure the sorcerer.

“But how will you—”

“I wrote to Taehyun,” you reply, and Heeseung hates the pang of jealousy he feels within his heart at the mention of the other sorcerer. “I know he’s been keeping an eye on us, so it was easy to contact him and ask for a small favour.”

“You mean turning him into a delivery man?” Heeseung's brow raises, and you shrug.

“It’s the least he can do.”

Heeseung snorts, amusement filling his bones. Of course, you would be the one to reduce a Sorcerer General of a large army to something as measly as a delivery man. 

And the best part about it? Taehyun is going to do it.

“Thank you,” you say to Taehyun when he enters the Tower with bags of ingredients. Since Heeseung got hurt, you plan to make a large lunch and dinner to help him recover faster. 

“No problem.” The man shrugs. “You had something to ask me?” he adds, since your request for groceries was not the only one you made in your message to him. 

Pursing your lips, you nod. Leading Taehyun into the kitchen to put away the food, you think of the best way to form your question. Though the base is simple: you want to know more about Heeseung. Things that not even he knows, it seems. 

“Oh.” He chuckles in understanding. “You want to know what I meant before.” Looking at you, his brows furrow. “Why the sudden interest? Did something happen?”

You shake your head. “I just want to know what you meant by it,” you argue. “How can the Forest be Heeseung’s fault only?”

“It’s simple, isn’t it?” Taehyun answers with a question of his own. “It’s a curse that he’s not aware of because the curse itself makes him forget. He doesn’t know it himself, but he’s far older than two centuries.”

“He is?”

Taehyun nods. “I don’t know that much myself, but his history is something sorcerers study in the capital. It’s just that all the details are very blurry and every book that mentions him is merely a different interpretation of what could have happened rather than what truly did happen.

“A detail that remains the same, however, is that there used to be seven of them. Seven Sorcerer Guardians who protected a princess of the Old Kingdom. She was a powerful priestess and her magic was beyond anyone’s understanding, so she created these seven sorcerers who helped her as her power grew. But she died alongside them in a war that destroyed the Old Kingdom, and unlike her, the seven sorcerers were reborn in a completely new world with magic that likely came from the princess.

“Nobody knows where the other six sorcerers are. They’re likely alive and well, but we’re not sure where they are nor who they are. But Heeseung… The power he wields now is only a sliver of what he had two centuries ago due to a curse of an unknown origin to us all. And the speculation is that the power that he lacks is now what makes the Forest what it is.”

“Which is why he’s the only one fighting it…” you finish for Taehyun, and he hums. 

“I’m not saying he’s a monster or anything. It’s just that there is so much we don’t know about him.”

“I understand.” You nod. “Thank you for telling me.”

“Where is he anyway? Are you alright?” Taehyun worries for you, and you chuckle. “Do you need anything else?”

“I’m fine, don’t worry. But Heeseung got hurt last night, so I don’t want to leave him here all alone.”

“He’d be fine,” Taehyun scoffs. “We heal faster than normal people. Immortality and all that.” He continues to help you put things away in silence for barely a minute before speaking again. “You’re different from the other women Heeseung has protected in the past,” he claims. 

Biting the inside of your cheek, you glance at Taehyun. “Am I?”

“Something is different about you.” Taehyun nods. “Your aura is so much more… it’s stronger. Like… I think you have magic, Y/N.”

“What? No.” You shake your head in denial. “How could I have magic? Am I not way past the age for finding that out?”

“Magic manifests in many ways, Y/N. Yours could be so subtle nobody ever noticed, but it is there. It’s strong, just not… obvious,” Taehyun disagrees with you.

“But then… why wouldn’t Heeseung tell me that?”

“Why would he tell you that?” Taehyun counters. “I think he’s scared, Y/N. The Forest behaves differently than it used to. It no longer searches anywhere. It’s dormant.”

“But Heeseung fought some creatures yesterday.”

“Because something called them forth. I monitored the Forest’s activity, and it was like… they found what they were looking for last night.”

“Wait…” you pause, staring at Taehyun. “If you were monitoring the Forest, why didn’t you help Heeseung?”

“It’s not in my jurisdiction.”

“Bullshit,” you spit, shaking your head. “You could’ve prevented his injury.”

“He’ll be fine, Y/N.”

“But he’s not fine now!” you counter, shaking your head. “He was partly delirious yesterday and… he called me Eunjin.”

Taehyun’s face turns grave at the mention of the name. “Eunjin’s dead,” he says with a deadpan.

“Yeah? I figured,” you scoff. There are many things you could guess based on what Heeseung said last night. But you did not like the way it made you feel. 

“Eunjin was different from the other women Heeseung has protected,” Taehyun sighs, offering an explanation in an attempt to quell your indignation. “She was a sorceress studying in the capital before, you know, the mark.” Taehyun points at the one you have on your wrist.

“And she died? I never heard of anyone dying—”

“It was covered up well,” Taehyun says. “Besides, we don’t really know if she died. All we know is that she went into the Forest on her own and never came back. Heeseung searched for her, I think, but she disappeared.” A frown settles on Taehyun’s lips, and you study him with your head tilted to the side. 

“She’s the reason you don’t like Heeseung,” you say matter-of-factly.

Taehyun chuckles, shaking his head. “That obvious, huh?” he asks, running a hand through his hair. “Eunjin was my best friend in the capital; we studied together. She was… stronger than me.”

“Oh. I’m sorry,” you say, moving toward Taehyun with uncertain steps. Not that long ago, you were still upset with him, but now you want to comfort him somehow. The way he looks at you, with big sad eyes, you can’t resist the urge to take his hand in yours and offer a warm smile. 

“You really need to be careful around him.” Taehyun looks at you solemnly, covering your hand in his. “Eunjin wanted to go into the Forest because of him. Please, don’t make the same mistake.”

“I won’t.” You can’t promise that. 

Taehyun smiles ruefully. “Who’s the liar now, huh?” He clearly wants to say something else, perhaps a wish that should not be spoken aloud, but he doesn’t get the chance.

“Y/N, I think my wound started healing—” Heeseung walks into the kitchen, watching you jump away from Taehyun, yanking your hand out of his grip. Confused, Heeseung glances between you and Taehyun. 

“Woah, that— that is great news!” you exclaim hastily, a large grin breaking across your lips as you pretend not to have learned about Heeseung’s past. 

“See, I told you he’d be fine,” Taehyun adds lamely in an attempt to resume the conversation.

“It’s a relief.” You nod. “Do you need anything, Heeseung? More food? Water? Tea? Coffee?”

“I’m fine, thanks.” Heeseung gives you a weird look. He knows you’re hiding something, but doesn’t press the issue with Taehyun right next to you.

“You do realise you’re not his maid, right?” Taehyun raises his brow at you. 

“Taehyun—”

“Would you prefer it if she was yours?” Heeseung challenges in turn. 

“She’s not property to give out like that.” Taehyun glares at the other sorcerer. 

“Stop talking about me like I’m not here,” you say firmly, fixing both men with a stern stare. It’s especially pointed at Taehyun because of the conversation you two shared literally moments ago. “I know you two have issues, but do not make me a ball the two of you get to kick around to prove a point.” 

This gets both sorcerers to look at you, their expressions turning apologetic.

“I’m my own person, and I can do whatever I want. If I want to offer Heeseung a cup of tea then I can do that,” you say, looking at Taehyun. They seem to look regretful now, realising that their words may have been hurtful toward you, when that is the last thing they intended. “I think it’ll be better if you leave now, Taehyun.”

“Y/N, I’m—”

“I’ll walk you out.”

tags: @moonpri @addictedtohobi @superbbananananana @strayy_kidz

[laswells-ashtray]

(You don't have to answer instantly, don't burn yourself out)

MacMillan and MacTavish having a very Scottish bonding moment that confused the ever loving daylights out of poor Nik/everyone

(I apologize for the potential spam lol)

I'm so sorry but I'm blind as shit even with my glasses on because they're two years old and I need new ones so I have to ask. What is your pfp because I cannot for the life of me figure it out but it's funky and I love it.

Anyway, *cracks knuckles* you're about to watch me tear into different parts of Scotland with no context other than I'm Scottish and allowed to

"Now, lad. Wit bit of Scotland are ye fae exactly?"

John instantly knows that letting MacMillan and Soap drink together is a dangerous choice because the two get on like a house on fire but that's not what worries John. What worries John is this. The Scotland talk because he'd sat through more than enough rants from Mac back in the day about the best parts of Scotland and [in Mac's own words] the "shite" parts.

"Glasgow, sir. Pollockshaw, if ye ken it?" There's a brief moment of silence between the Englishmen at the table and Nik as they await the older Scot's reaction. Is that a good place? Fuck if John knows.

"Aye, aye. I get ye, I'm Stewarton myself." Mac looks amused, as does Soap. That has to be a good sign, surely.

"Oh, you're a hard man then. Dinnae tell me you went tae school there anaw?" It takes one glance around the table to know that he isn't the only one needing a written translation. Simon is mouthing half of the words that Soap says under his breath to try and follow along with him, Kyle looks positively befuddled and Nik looks two seconds away from seeing if he can lift both arms properly.

"Aye, fuckin' shitehole and I wis quick tae get my arse oot of that fuckin' school. Could've been worse, I could've been fae Cumnock. Or ye could've been fae Maryhill."

"My da's side is fae Maryhill."

Oh fuck. John doesn't try to hide his wince. Leave it up to Mac to commit some cardinal sin when discussing Scotland.

"Even he'd agree with ye, it's a soulless vacuum of dugshite, empty needles and misery."

Nevermind then?! John is confused, deeply confused. Why the hatred for Maryhill? And better question, where the fuck is Maryhill?

Mac and Soap share a laugh between themselves that only furthers the confusion between the non-Scots of the table.

"Better than Govan." They both crack up at that, loud laughter waving over the table. Is it possible for someone to laugh Scottish because both of them seem to be doing so.

Kyle nudges him with a light elbow to the ribs, cheeky bugger.

"You catch what any of that meant?"

"Not a fucking word, sergeant. Not a fucking word."

Eventually, they leave the two men to chatter between themselves. None of them have the ears nor dictionary to translate whatever the fuck those two are spitting at each other. That is until John hears a question that has him demanding silence from his end of the table.

Leave it to Mac to ask the dreaded question of the night.

"So, son. Ye a Rangers boy or a Celtic boy?"

Even Simon and Kyle look over with wary expressions, Nik might not understand the significance of such a thing but the lads do. Mac asks with such a casual demeanour, you'd almost think it was a friendly query. It is not.

"Rangers, sir."

"Smart choice, son."

A shared sentiment passes through them all.

Thank fuck.

[halfwayhearted]

lamine girlfriend being so happy that he’s finally taking the time to rest, like he tells her he’s not playing and he’s not going with the national team and she almost cries because she’s always so stressed that he’s pushing himself too much

Baby, I Love You — Lamine Yamal.

Pairing: Lamine Yamal x Fem!Reader

Summary: After an intense amount of worrying about your boyfriend and his constant urge to play, he shares some news with you that leaves you feeling both worried and relieved.

Word Count: 465+

Disclaimer/s — None really, just comfort/and fluff.

A/N: And then you open TikTok and see him dancing bachata to Aventura 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️ boy PLEASE.

It was nearing midnight when you received a text from Lamine asking if he could come over. It was never unusual for him to ask, but considering he had a game to practice for, you couldn’t stop the small pang of confusion that rose within you.

You opened the boy’s message and replied back quickly, ‘Hi, of course. I’ll leave the door unlocked.’

With nothing else to do but wait, you decided you’d finish up your homework, not even noticing the sight of your door slowly creaking open.

It wasn’t until you saw his figure from the corner of your eye that you gasped and jumped up, your eyes narrowing when you heard Lamine laugh.

“Lamine—no call, no text, not even a greeting!?” You exclaimed, covering your face with your hands. “Oh, my God. I can’t even look at you.”

Hearing his footsteps toward you, he uses his hands to pry your own away from your face. “I’m sorry! You said it’d be unlocked. I thought you’d be, I don’t know, waiting for me or something.”

“Well! You thought—whatever. Sit! Sit! Tell me about your day. Did something happen or…?”

Doing as told, he moves to sit on your chair, and that’s when you notice something’s wrong. It takes you a few seconds to realize, but it clicks—he has a limp. “Wait. Lamine, what happened?”

“I’m not able to play for Spain,” he grumbled.

That wasn’t what you were referring to, yet the relief you felt was unmistakable. He could rest, but at what cost? “I’m sorry. Because of that?”

Following your line of sight, Lamine offers a small chuckle and nods. “Yeah, because of that. I’m out for the break. Might be even more, I’m not sure.”

You stand up and plop down beside him. “You’ll be back. Even better and even stronger. Not that you weren’t already before. Does it hurt at all?”

“Only if I apply too much pressure on it. Nothing an ice pack can’t fix. Or help lessen the pain.”

“Ice pack,” you repeat quietly. “I’ll be right back.”

“I don’t need one now—hey,” Lamine frowned when you stand up, his hands finding both of yours. “It’s fine. Can we just… do something?”

“Sorry, of course. We can build Legos, watch a movie, a show, or just lay down. Your choice!”

“What were you doing before I came and—”

“Scared me? I was just finishing up homework.”

Your answer does absolutely nothing but make his expression morph into one of disgust, eliciting a laugh from you. “I thought so. Lay down, go on your phone, I’ll be done super soon, okay?”

“Take your time,” he hums. “Can I sleep over?”

With a shrug, you smile and say, “Well, you’re already here. I don’t really see why you can’t.”

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated ^_^.

DT(s) — @planetpedri + @spidybaby + @iovepoem + @sakashq + @joaoflms ! ౨ৎ

[saveyourblood]

Pretty Boy - Ch 5 (Buddie x Reader)

Summary: You can feel Buck staring. When your eyes meet his, you realize he’s staring at your hand, which is still on Eddie’s knee. You slowly retreat, which makes Buck turn his attention to your face. You smile softly. He just looks out the window. The one where you’re an advanced paramedic, Buck and Eddie are firefighters, and you think you might be in love with both of them.

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4

A/N: Me? Desperate for validation? It's more likely than you think Word Count: 3.8k Warnings: none

You make your way through more of the rubble, taking frequent breaks in an attempt to conserve your energy. It’s probably been less than an hour, but it feels like you’ve been trapped for days. You used most of your effort to free Russ, which proved futile, so now you’re simply exhausted.

At some point, you see a glimpse of light between two pieces of crumbled concrete. Using the blunt side of your axe, you begin chipping away at the space. More light begins to break through. The sight causes you to catch your second wind, and you begin swinging harder. Eventually, you make a hole big enough for you to crawl through.

You climb over some of the bigger pieces of the fallen structure and slip between others. You sneak between a few vehicles. You keep walking, though you aren’t sure what you’re looking for. Something in you gut is pulling you in this direction, and you have nothing else to go off of, so you’re going with it.

You hear a cough.

Your head snaps in the direction of the sound. You start moving so quickly that you stumble a little and have to slow yourself down so you don’t break an ankle. You shine your flashlight to the side. It lands on a little girl. She squints her eyes and lifts a hand to block out the brightness.

“Kat?” You ask.

She nods.

You laugh. You laugh with joy. You laugh with relief. You laugh until a few tears spring into your eyes. You cut yourself off—no way are you breaking down in front her. You’ve both come this far, and you’re going to see each other to the end. If you’re saving anyone today, it’s her.

You reach into the inner pocket of your jacket, eternally grateful that you took on the added weight. “You looking for this?”

It’s her shoe.

Kat smiles and nods again.

Kat’s tired, and so are you, but you carry her on your back anyway. You swear that, in the distance, you hear a car alarm, so that’s the direction you head in.

“What if we can’t get out?” Kat asks quietly.

“What? Hey, come on, don’t start talking like that now,” you gently scold. “We’ve already made it through the hard part!”

“I guess…” She says, unsure.

You hear the shifting of rubble, but only a little. You think you might hear voices, too. You take off in that direction.

Concrete shifts, and you see more light—a lot of light. Like, your headlamp times ten. You scramble towards it, ducking a little so as to not hurt Kat.

As the dust settles, you can make out at least ten firefighters standing around the scene. You can’t help but smile.

“Hello fellas,” You say, taking a few more steps forward.

A firefighter from a different crew helps Kat off of you. Your attention immediately focuses on two particular firefighters in front of you, both of which have ‘118’ on their caps.

“Welcome back,” Buck greets with a grin.

You laugh and stumble forward right into his arms. Once again, you find yourself holding back tears. You feel someone pat your back and leave his hand there, and you don’t have to look to know it’s Eddie.

You make it back to the triage area, Kat walking in front of you. The moment she sees her parents, she takes off running. On instinct, you jog behind her, but when you see her collapse into her parents’ arms, you stop and simply watch.

They look over at you and nod. You smile and nod back.

Hen insists on looking you over, testing everything from your range of motion to your vision. Even you surprise yourself a little when you pass with flying colors. Hen steals a quick hug before she gets back to work. You just sit there, dumbfounded. You’re exhausted, but you’re okay. You’re alive.

“Hey you,” Buck says, taking a seat next to you.

Somehow, that’s all it takes for the floodgates to break open.

“Woah, hey, come here,” Buck wraps an arm around your shoulders.

You wrap an arm around his waist and lean your head on his shoulder. You breathe out a few sobs but slowly quiet yourself. You can feel Buck’s lips pressed to the top of your head. You sit up straight, wiping your eyes. Buck keeps his arm around you.

“Sorry,” you whisper, shaking your head a little. “Just… rough day.”

“Russ?” Buck asks quietly.

You smile sadly and nod, a few more tears escaping in the process. “You know he wasn’t even scheduled to work? He just heard about everything and wanted to help. And now he’s dead. Because I couldn’t save him.”

“But you were there for him,” Buck points out, rubbing his hand up and down your arm. “Even if you couldn’t save him, you were there for him. He didn’t die alone. You did that.”

“Yeah, I guess. It just doesn’t feel like enough, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.”

You clear your throat a little. “When I was alone and thought you guys might not find me, I made recordings. I wanted the people I love to hear from me one last time. Can you guess how many I made?”

Buck just watches you. His expression is a mix of intrigue and sympathy.

“Five,” you answer, even though he doesn’t ask. “I made five recordings, one for each of you. That’s it.”

“What about your parents? Siblings?”

“My mom died when she gave birth to me,” you answer. “My dad fell into a bottle. I haven’t spoken to him since I moved away from home seven years ago. People tell me he changed after she died, but… that’s the only way I know him. It makes me feel like I got cheated out of both my parents instead of just one.”

The two of you sit in silence. It’s broken when you laugh.

“I don’t know why the hell I’m telling you all of this,” you chuckle as more tears form. “I guess I just need someone to know that… this job is quite literally my entire life. It’s my passion, my work, my home, and my family. Most of the time, I feel lucky. On days like today, though, it just… scares the hell out of me. Because I’m either gonna die doing what I love, or doing what I love will kill me. I don’t know which one’s worse.”

“I get that feeling,” Buck agrees softly. “I can’t think of anything else I’d rather do. I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather do it with, either.”

Once you all returned to the station, you hopped in the shower. When you got out, Buck was waiting for you in the locker room. He insisted on driving you home, making sure you were okay. When he told you, you rolled your eyes, but your heart swelled. The last thing you want to do is navigate LA traffic, so you accept his offer.

When you both started to leave, you noticed Eddie was making phone calls and texts. You learned that he was trying to find a ride to Christopher’s school; he hasn’t had the chance to buy a vehicle yet.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Eddie asks again as you all get to the parking lot.

“Just get in the damn car, Eddie,” you say.

The ride is a little tense. Eddie touched base with some of the school staff, so he knows Christopher is okay, but it isn’t the same as seeing it for himself. He taps his phone against the car windowsill. You insisted on sitting in the back, and for good reason: you can already feel yourself dozing off.

Buck pulls over, and you look up to see you’ve arrived at the school. Almost before the car is in ‘park’, Eddie flings open the door and runs up the stairs. Christopher is standing in the front hall, a staff member off to the side. Eddie picks him up in a hug, spinning him around.

“They’re really cute,” you mutter, mostly to yourself.

Buck is too busy watching them to even register what you said.

Eddie thanks the staff member before opening the door for Chris. The two make their way back to the car, Christopher a little bit in front of Eddie. For a kid with crutches, he moves quickly; the poor kid is probably ready to go home.

Eddie opens the side door for his son, setting the crutches on the floor. With his father’s help, Christopher joins you in the backseat.

“Chris, these are my friends,” Eddie says, pointing at you and Buck as he introduces you both.

“It’s nice to meet you, Chris,” you smile.

“My dad talks about you. A lot,” Christopher says.

You giggle in surprise. “Does he, now?”

Even in the dark, you can see Eddie’s face get red. “‘You’ as in the 118,” he clarifies.

Buck shakes his head and laughs softly as he pulls away from the curb.

This might be the dumbest call you’ve ever been to, and that’s saying something.

A bunch of women decided to get drunk at 11:30 in the morning, and as a fun drunk activity, one of them stuck her head in a tailpipe. The only problem is she couldn’t get it out, so now it’s the LAFD’s problem. Medically, she’s clear, so you and Hen stand back and let the boys do their thing. Unfortunately, the drunk girl has drunk friends and said drunk friends are relentlessly hitting on Eddie and Buck.

“What are you so tense for?” Hen asks.

“I’m not.”

You both know it’s a lie. Until she said it, though, you didn’t realize that your jaw was clenched and your brow furrowed. You roll your shoulders and turn your neck a few times, hoping it relaxes your muscles.

The women are bothering you. And it’s really stupid and childish, especially considering that neither Buck nor Eddie is your boyfriend. They’re just your coworkers, so you have literally no right to get upset that women besides yourself find them attractive.

“I uh, I don’t think I’m what you’re looking for,” Eddie politely rejects one of them. “I have a son.”

“I’m gonna puke!” The woman says from inside the tailpipe.

“You better not!” One of her friends shouts. “These fire guys are totally hot.”

You can feel your jaw start to tense again.

After getting the woman free from the tailpipe, you all begin to make your way back to the engine. Buck and Eddie are a few steps in front of you. They’re trying to be discrete, but you make out every word.

“Hey, so is your son really the reason you don’t date?” Buck asks.

“That, and.. They weren’t my type,” Eddie shrugs.

“I’m talking in general,” Buck continues.

“It’s complicated when you have a kid.”

“Come on, that’s a weak excuse.”

The conversation is cut short when Eddie gets a phone call. He takes a few steps away while you and Buck linger behind. You don’t have to hear anything to see Eddie’s body language change. Buck sends you a knowing glance.

It’s about Christopher.

It’s always weird going past the ER of a hospital. It feels like you’re in forbidden territory, like you’ve stepped outside your bounds. The nice thing about having few family members is you barely have to cross the picket line.

You, Buck, and Eddie get off the elevator. Eddie is a few steps ahead and quickly sees his aunt in a nearby waiting area. They chat a little, and you can see that Christopher is standing near a few nurses, completely eating up the attention. It makes you smile.

Eddie’s aunt explains that it’s his grandmother who’s in the hospital—broken hip. When she was watching Christopher and called him inside, she slipped on a porch step. Christopher had to call 911.

“Who’s this with you?” His aunt asks, turning her attention to you and Buck.

“We work together,” Eddie explains after saying your names.

“Mmm, I thought you just dressed alike.”

“This is my Aunt Josefina—Pepa,” Eddie introduces.

“Hi,” you both say politely.

Pepa begins to lecture Eddie about leaving Christopher with his grandmother. You can tell Eddie feels bad, but you can also tell he has no other options. He dismisses himself from the conversation by meeting up with Christopher.

“Must be rough,” Buck remarks.

“Raising any child alone is rough,” Pepa agrees.

“Eddie’s a saint,” You praise.

Pepa smiles. It’s bittersweet. “I pray for him anyway.”

Christopher ends up spending some time at the station, and it’s one of the best shifts you’ve had in a long time. Eddie’s aunt was busy working when his shift started, and with his grandmother still in the hospital, he truly had nowhere else to take him. It was either bringing his son to work or calling in from work to watch his son. Eddie chose the former.

You’re able to take him on a simple MVC call with no suspected injuries. As you all work to free the drivers and passengers, Bobby explains everything to Christopher. He’s standing on the ground while Christopher stands on part of the firetruck, holding one of the rails for stability. Bobby has an arm around him for the same reason.

When you get back to the station, you make him a grilled cheese sandwich for lunch. He approves. Then, Chim swoops in and teaches him how to play pinball. At some point, all of you are standing around the firepole, helping Christopher slide down it.

Pepa shows up, and the fun is over. Before Eddie walks them out, he pulls Cap into a hug. You and Buck look at each other and smile.

“This was a really nice idea, Buck.”

“Eh, I figured we could all use a little stress relief,” Buck shrugs.

“Well, clearly Eddie appreciates it. I guess it really does take a village.”

Buck nods in response and begins to walk away.

“I’m thinking of going to nursing school,” you blurt out.

He turns back to face you. “What?”

You clear your throat. This wasn’t how you planned on telling him, just springing it on him in a random conversation. You knew that if you didn’t say something soon, he would hear it from someone else first. You definitely didn’t want that.

“You remember that conversation we had at breakfast a few weeks ago? You know, the one about what we’d be doing if we didn’t work at the 118?”

“You wanna be a nurse?” Buck frowns. “I mean, nurses are great; Maddie’s a nurse. Or, well, she was. You just… don’t seem the type.”

“Uh, yeah, I’ve kind of always been interested in flight nursing. You know, like, going up in a helicopter, responding to scene calls, that sort of thing,” you explain as you wring your hands.

“So that means you wouldn’t work here anymore.”

“That’s… a long ways down the line. Like, at least 18 months, probably closer to 2 years. Bobby said I could always stay on casually, pick up shifts whenever I want.”

“You already talked to Bobby,” Buck rubs his neck. “You must be pretty serious about this, then.”

“I guess,” you shrug. You’re trying to sound casual, but the thumping of your heart in your chest doesn’t cease.

Buck smiles. The expression doesn’t meet his eyes. “I hope everything works out the way you want it to.”

This time, he walks away for good, leaving you with a bitter taste on your tongue.

The 118 is called to a helicopter crash site. The pilot tried to make an emergency landing in a park football field but landed in the bleachers instead. After Buck pulls one of the victims from the scene, you do an assessment and quickly realize that, by some miracle, she’s completely fine.

Buck makes his way over to the two of you. “Hey, do me a favor and say ‘And on the 405, speeds are under five miles an hour, making your morning commute a rough one.’"

You look over at him with a raised eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“I-I know that voice. It's, uh, it's Taylor Kelly reporting, right? Skywitness News Eight,” Buck says, pointing back to the helicopter.

“That’s me,” Taylor says with a soft chuckle.

“Wow. Um, it's weird to hear that voice come out of a face.”

Taylor laughs again. “Thank you?”

They’re flirting. You clench your teeth together so hard you think your jaw might pop. You start randomly tossing supplies back into your bag, zip it up, and hop back into the rig before you can hear the end of the conversation.

The next time you see Taylor, she’s at the station. She doesn’t come alone, either—a man holding a television camera is a few steps behind her.

The first one to approach her is Buck, of course. Then Eddie, Chim, Hen, and finally, Bobby. You watch everything happen from the loft; there’s no way you’ll willingly engage in whatever conversation they’re having.

Bobby makes his way up the stairs.

“What’s all that about?” You ask as he walks by.

“Ms. Kelly wants to do a story on the 118,” Bobby says.

You frown. “Is she even allowed to film in here?”

“The chief’s office is on hold. Something tells me that we’ll be seeing quite a bit of her and her cameraman the next few days.”

Bobby’s already gone, but you still roll your eyes.

Taylor manages to track down everyone and get an interview: everyone except you and Captain Nash. She follows along on a few calls, on which you can mostly ignore her. It's much harder to ignore her when she corners you in the loft.

You’re eating breakfast alone at the kitchen island when Taylor bombards you, her cameraman beside her like always. She gives you a massive grin, and something about how it looks makes you nauseous.

“Can we have a few minutes with you?” She asks, still smiling.

“No,” you respond simply.

“...No?”

“No,” you repeat, taking a sip of your coffee. It’s cold.

“Look, I know this is probably a little awkward and uncomfortable-”

“It’s not,” you interrupt as you stand. “I just don’t want to talk to you.”

You head towards the coffee pot to warm your cup. You refill it and take a sip as you lean against the counter. Taylor just stares at you.

“I want you to know I only have one goal here: to tell a story. Your story,” Taylor says, forcing the smile back on her face.

“Oh, really?” You ask, setting your coffee on the counter behind you. You push off of the counter so you can approach Taylor. “And uh, how much money do you think you can make telling my story?”

“Excuse me?”

“That’s what this about, right?” you challenge. “You have a chance to change the trajectory of your career. You can go from the girl who talks about traffic to the woman who sheds a light on the unsung heroes. You’d be stupid not to jump on that opportunity.”

Taylor looks at you. “I suppose.”

“And I would be stupid if I actually believed you have good intentions,” you continue, “because you don’t give a damn about us. You don’t care about the 118 or what we do everyday—you care about yourself. So no, I don’t have a minute and I don’t want to talk to you.”

“You missed the show.”

You open your locker with a huff. You shrug as you pick up your shoes. “Bummer.”

“You were barely in it,” Buck continues. “Something tells me that wasn’t exactly an accident.”

You take a seat on the bench so you can change your shoes. “What makes you say that?”

The only sound in the room is you kicking off your boots and slipping into your converse. You begin tying the laces, then pause.

You look over your shoulder at Buck. “You talked to her, didn’t you?”

Buck looks everywhere but your face.

“You know what I said to her,” you say. It isn’t even a question: you can tell by how he’s acting.

“I just don’t understand why you were so rude to her.”

“Oh my god, seriously, Buck?!” you say, standing up to face him. “Her?!”

He crosses his arms. “What does that mean?”

You scoff and shake your head. “It means you haven’t changed at all.”

“What?”

You pick up your boots and toss them in your locker, which you slam shut. “You heard me.”

“That’s not fair,” he argues, moving his hands to his pockets.

“It’s not?” You ask, cocking your head. “I’m pretty sure a few months ago, you were sleeping with whatever woman fell for the whole ‘hero’ act. So how exactly have you changed?”

“Why are you so pissed at me?” Buck asks defensively. “I mean, it’s not like you care enough to stick around.”

Your heart drops into your stomach. “How dare you throw that in my face.”

“Am I wrong?”

“You’re wrong,” you confirm, stepping towards him. “Not that it’s any of your goddamn business, but I haven’t even applied to anything.”

“If it’s not my business, then why’d you make it my business?” Buck provokes. “Why’d you even tell me?”

“Because I thought you were my friend!” you shout. “I thought you would be happy for me!”

“Be happy that you want to leave?”

“Be happy that I want more for myself!”

“Well, I’m not happy,” Buck says, crossing his arms again. “You say that we’re your family, and then a few weeks later, you’re talking about other jobs. I mean, was that just a bunch of bullshit?”

You scoff again, and this time, angry tears fill your eyes. “Fuck you, Evan.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he says, turning to the door.

There are a million things you want to say. But then, you remember: you’ve already said them.

You reach into your pocket and come back with your phone. As Buck walks away, you hit the ‘play’ button on a recording you never wanted to listen to.

'Pretty Boy,' your voice in the recording crackles.

Buck stops and turns around.

'Evan Buckley… where do I even start with you? I’m not gonna lie: I really didn’t like you when we first met. And that’s funny, because now, you’re probably one of the most important people in my life. You definitely proved me wrong, man: you were good. You are good. And you have to keep being good, okay? I might not be there to see it anymore, but you should still do it. Do it for the both of us, will ya?'

You hit the ‘pause’ button and stuff your phone back into your pocket.

“You can be pissed at me all you want, but don’t you ever say that I don’t care about this job,” you whisper as you walk towards him. You poke a finger into his chest. “Don’t ever say that I don’t care about you.”

“I-”

Your shoulder slams into his as you walk out.

[sometimesthingsgowrongokayy]

oh golly how do you make these things

jayvik tickle hcs because i can

(sparkle sparkle)

separate and then together, a few swears, one tiny suggestive bit on jayce’s

JAYCE

lee!

ohhh boy. jayce my bbaby. okay. so as a decently muscular man, hes gotta be at least a little ticklish.

i think his worst spots are probably the spots you can just latch onto and squeeze- thighs, ribs, knees, even shoulders.

my boy cannot take a massage. he has tried so hard but every single time he’s just a hiccuping snorty mess

speaking of hiccuping snorty mess. i think he has a lot of different laughs. when you get him really going it’s his usual deep belly laughter, loud and proud and so bright you’re gonna need sunglasses

but also i think if you have him for long enough his laugh changes pitch a lot. like it’ll go from low to super high, and he’s all like “hahahAHAHAHHHSGH OHGOD OH GOD OH GOHOHOD” and oough. bbg

if it’s less intense, he’s not really one to giggle, but he definitely hiccups. he scrunches his face all up and jerks around and flinches and snorts and covers his mouth with the back of his hand and.. ghrhrgh.. im going insane guys

i think he’s the kind of guy who doesn’t squirm too much but arches his back a lot. he doesn’t squirm back and forth, but he’s always folding like a lawn chair, forwards and backwards

with his hiccupy/snorty laughter, he’ll go silent for a few seconds, and his shoulders just bounce as his whole body shakes, face absolutely BURNING red

oh yeah and he’s a blusher. bigtime. he gets a little flustered at the fact he can get plucked apart so easily by something as silly as tickling. he doesn’t think its childish, per se, but certainly not something a grown man should be This weak to.

..and yeah, he likes it. he’s embarrassed about it, but won’t necessarily deny it. he kind of has a thing for going all dumb and happy and brainless. just made into a smiley little puddle of jayce

oh and his smile. i know these hcs are already so freaking long but his smilee he is always grinning. even just a poke and he’s already got a big dumb smile. he is literally the sun when being tickled, it’s absurd

i didnt even get into soft tickles yet what

okay so we all know his abs are sensitive. i think he might just die at some gentle fluttery fingers. same with his sides and back

hear me out. behind the knees. oh and biceps. and the underside of his arms in general. and his forearms. none of them are too bad, but he’ll still squirm a little if you just slowly trace your fingers over them

post-season-2(SPOILERS KINDA??) his wrist his mad sensitive from the crystal embedded in there.

all of his scars are sensitive too. i don’t think he has too many, but the ones he does have are Big and also very ticklish <3

all in all i think he’s very sensitive. he’s the type to be flinching and squirming at things that aren’t even supposed to be ticklish, like god this man cannot take a tummy rub. if someone’s hands are on him in a sensual manner he can’t hold back tiny little giggle-huffs.

whenever anyone’s hands are on his bare skin in any soft manner, he’s. he can’t. he is too ticklish to survive on this earth

okay im gonna stop myself there or im gonna be ranting for seven more paragraphs

ler!

this little shit oh my god

okay no i take that back. i feel like he would be a smug cocky little shit, but not always.

im sorry, i have to say it, engineer hands

i have less ler hcs than i do lee hcs for him but i do think he would be absurdly switchy. he’s the type of guy to just poke people at random whenever he’s bored or to prove a point

has a habit of digging. he’ll find a nice meaty spot and just squeeze it lighting fast for about a second and then give you a teensy little break before doing the exact same thing again

he can be a little merciless though. he doesn’t realize just how good he is at tickling, he just thinks everyone who he tickles is mad sensitive

its hilarious though. he’ll be like “How did I never know you were this ticklish?!” and the lee will be like I DIDN’T KNOW EITHER HOW ARE YOU DOING THIS-

his hands are going all over the place, too. if he has a really handsy/squirmy lee, he’ll just keep switching spots every time they go to defend something. arms glue to their sides? okay, he’ll switch to their knees. legs pull up? okay, neck now. shoulders scrunch? ooh, armpits are fun!

he is such a menace and doesn’t even realize it

he’s crazy playful. mostly back in academy days, but if you can get close enough to him as the man of progress, and he has some free time, he’s so freaking playful its wonderful

he thinks its fun, and he likes seeing people’s stress just melt away. he will get a little worried if you tell him to stop, though, and pulls back a little if you do. he doesn’t wanna hurt you or make you uncomfortable.

definitely pokes people a lot but doesn’t actually engage in full attacks all that often. usually he has to be pretty close friends with someone to do that.

he’s very gentle with viktor when he tickles him, sometimes a little too gentle. it’s agony

VIKTOR

lee!

okay im gonna say it now before the thought leaves my brain. ticklish ears

he’s a lot more keen to light tickles as rougher stuff just kinda hurts a lot of the time or gets him really overwhelmed

tbh if you wanna get him bad, tools are probably best bet. rough tickles with hands are a little too much, but get a feather or a pen or a brush and Hoo boy you’ve killed Viktor.

i don’t actually think he’s all that ticklish. like he is but he isn’t? he’s sensitive but not hypersensitive, i guess.

except for his bad spots. i think its more of a thing where he’s not too ticklish in most places but his bad spots get him writhing.

of course i’m obliged to say neck, ears, jaw, back.. the works. i think his stomach has the potential to be sensitive but he’s a little too skin and bones for it to really impact him.

he has a lot of vaguely unusual spots. his wrists and palms are sensitive, i think his scalp is even a little sensitive. he doesn’t like people playing with his hair for that reason

if not for his brace i’d say his back and spine especially would be real bad. without his brace, just tracing a line all the way up his spine has him jerking forward so hard sometimes he falls over. and absolutely spits out any drink he may be drinking. i mean it feels like stars bursting all the way up his back, okay?? so tingly

he’s the type to hold his stomach when laughing really hard, just in general

he’s also a big snorter, but he uhm.. he has a very maniacal laugh. it’s literally just like- a whole villain laugh. absolutely terrifying.

i think he’s a lot less sensitive than jayce in theory, but in practice he’s a lot less used to it and very squirmy

so squirmy. very slippery. i wouldn’t quite say nimble, because of his leg, but- at the very least very good at escaping.

definitely the type to go straight for his ler’s sides to get them off him. he panics and just squeezes. usually it works but sometimes it doesn’t

i think he has the potential to be a giggler. idk though. he wouldn’t have bubbly giggles as much as he would have really breathy, huffy giggles. silent giggles are another big thing

i think he’s very neutral on the whole concept. he has to be in the right mood and it has to be with someone he trusts with his life.

feather-ticklish bastard. trust me on this

ler!

idk about you guys but viktor talking like he’s documenting an experiment while tickling someone? oughhrgrh.

im usually not one for teases but aaugrgghgrgr.

his hands are absurdly nimble, so while he can commonly be overpowered by his lee, he’s still a slippery bastard and somehow manages to slip into all of someone’s worst spots

i’m kinda stealing this hc from someone else, but i think he is very good at predicting/guessing someone’s weak spots. “HOHOW DID YOU KNOW I-“ “oh, i just guessed. not very hard, you know.” gggggraagg

i really can’t explain just how evil he is. those nimble hands of his are all over someone in seconds, spidering and digging into every single spot and switching at lighting speeds.

very good at tickling people, i think. him and jayce are on a pretty even playing field for that

i have such a distinct idea of what ler!viktor would be but for some reason i just cant explain it with words.

TOGETHER

oh these two. these two. i’m.

they are so switchy it’s scary. tickle fights with these two are not tickle fights, they are strategic tickle wars.

viktor tickles jayce out of stress a lot. jayce is definitely the type to get overwhelmed with stress and not tell anyone, literal king of masking, but ofc viktor sees through it in seconds and wrecks him until he admits what’s wrong. and then viktor wrecks him some more so he can forget about it for a little while

they’re always teasing eachother. on energetic days they’re both so playful with eachother, and they’ll be poking eachother around the lab all day until one of them cracks and launches an attack

they wreck eachother just to prove a point sometimes.

jayce has a habit of getting viktor when he’s being too cocky or sassy. viktor has a habit of getting jayce just because he feels like it.

jayce tickles viktor when he’s bored, he’ll pick up a quill and flutter it against the back of viktor’s neck while he’s ranting about something.

they get revenge a lot, but then they get revenge on the revenge, so it’s kind of.. a cycle

they know eachother’s boundaries like the back of their hands, since they’ve known eachother so long they’re very good at knowing exactly when to stop and exactly what to do

they also pick up on eachother’s lee moods.. and ler moods sometimes. let’s just say jayce knows when to run when viktor gets a certain look in his eyes

aftercare with them is sickeningly soft. brushing hair out of faces, gently caressing skin, massaging eachother to get rid of some of the lingering tingles, all of it. they hold hands and press up next to eachother and ghhgh. even if its in a scenario where they aren’t dating, they still do all of this, and if someone questions it they just shrug. just two bros bein dudes, nothing to see here

i feel like these together hcs are so bad im sorry. it’s so early rn and im suffering Hunger. ill probably make more of these in the future if anyone is interested

feel free to shoot me an ask or two about them as well!!

[sp4ceboo]

CHAPTER 6 ~ CALM BEFORE THE STORM

beneath a crimson sky masterlist | ch 1 | ch 2 | ch 3 | ch 4 | ch 5 | ch 6

pairing: stray kids ot8 x afab!reader

genre: apocalypse au, dystopian, dark, adventure, action, thriller, fighting, eventual smut, romance

a/n: apologies for the sparse updates i swear i'm still alive, icl i have beef with this chapter in terms of characterisations but the next chapter is my lil baby so yall can look forward to that

chapter warnings: large amounts of crying, swearing, panic attacks, mentions of mind control, for some reason i really like The Hello Kitty Blanket, not much else but i probably forgot at least 1 thing

chapter word count: 3.6k

When you wake, you are lucid. Too lucid, it seems, because you recall your dreams with such clarity that you throw up, emptying the meagre contents of your churning stomach into a bucket someone had handily placed by your side. You do not want to believe what you’ve seen, so you chalk it down to the fever.

It’s early in the morning, and Jisung lies propped up against the wall beside the makeshift bed the boys must have made you, heavily asleep, a half full bottle of water held loosely in his hands. You manage to heave yourself upright, and it’s only then that you notice the rope tied loosely around your wrists and ankles, tied to the foot of the centrifuge and tethering you down.

Your stomach twists. Felix. You hurt Felix.

And yet, Jisung snores peacefully beside you. There is a calm in his slumbering face, a tranquility. He feels safe to sleep beside you, and no one has deigned to disturb him from his position - then, they don’t blame you, nor do they fear you.

Hesitantly, almost expecting your body to disobey your orders, you reach out and pluck the bottle from his grasp, taking careful sips until it’s finished. With a glance behind you, you notice Jeongin has sat up, rubbing his eyes, and that Chan is making his way towards you. He looks a little paler than before, and the semicircles beneath his eyes are darker.

You cannot imagine for the life of you why they have stayed and looked after you.

Unbidden, a smile finds its way onto your face as he approaches, and it widens when he returns it, his dimples appearing in his cheeks. Relief is clear on him, in the slight sag of his shoulders and release of tension in his brow, as if a heavy load has been lifted from him.

“Hey,” he whispers, crouching beside you, eyes bright and hope filled as he unties you. “I knew you would make it.”

“Chan,” you say, and suddenly your voice and smile are wobbly.

You reach out your hand, simply intending to grab ahold of his hoodie and remind yourself that you’re fine now, that they didn’t leave you even though they should have, but he goes one step further and engulfs you in his arms. Breath shaky, you close your eyes, holding onto him as tightly as you can.

Chan is warm and solid, and he smells ridiculously like clean laundry despite the fact that none of you have gone near a washing machine in weeks. It feels as if he is keeping you whole, as if you might crumble apart if he lets go. You squeeze your eyes shut and breathe him in.

You’re able to find your voice once your face is hidden in the safety of his shoulder. “Did I hurt anyone?”

“No,” he says, and you can’t tell if he’s lying or not. “You were pretty weak when that stage set in.”

You nod, trying to find words. “How - how long was I out?”

“Just under a week.”

Your jaw drops. “A week?”

“Yeah,” he says. “The next ship hasn’t landed yet. We met three guys looking for the rest of their group. The leader - his name was Hongjoong - has dubbed it the Reprieve. I just think it’s the calm before the storm.”

You blink. “You talked to someone? Were any of them sick?”

Getting to his feet, Chan shakes his head. “I don’t think anyone has been since the first horseman’s ship took off.”

Grabbing his hand, you stop him. “Thank you, Chan. You - you didn’t have to put yourself or the boys in danger for me, but you did, anyway.”

“I did what I’d do if it happened to any of us,” he says, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world to him.

You’re about to reply, but you’re cut off by a drawn out gurgle from your stomach. Chan chuckles, his dimples appearing again. He is so bright, so clear, that it is hard to believe the shadows could even survive while he was there.

“I’ll get you some food in a second,” he grins. “Minho, Changbin, Felix, Seungmin, Jeongin and I are going out on a supply run. We don’t know how long the Reprieve will last so we’re going to try and stock up as much as possible in case we need to hole up when the second horseman comes.”

Briefly, you consider volunteering yourself too, but although you feel healed, you’ve been out for the last week and you need to rest. No doubt Chan would refuse to let you come along, anyway - he hands you a can of pasta shapes drowning in synthetic tasting tomato sauce, and you scarf it down while the lab begins to fill with life as the others wake up.

Felix bounds over and hugs you, followed closely by Hyunjin. You scan the former’s face for any signs of fear or hurt, but he beams at you, and your soul feels a warmth it hasn’t in a long time. There’s a beauty in his smile that is so hard to come by, now.

All of the boys greet you once they’ve woken up, even Minho, who kind of just stares at you like he can’t believe you’re alive. You don’t blame him. Hope is rising in your chest, the same way it shines in Jisung’s eyes when he jerks awake to see you conscious and radiates from Jeongin’s smile, because despite it all, you survived Pestilence, and if you survived the first horseman, maybe there’s a chance you’ll all be able to live through the next ones.

The hope rises so high that you dismiss your fever dreams. It lingers, wonderfully so, and rests on you, Hyunjin and Jisung after the others go out on the supply run, filling the three of you with bubbling laughter as the hours pass.

And then, abruptly, it falls short.

The sun is setting, painting the already red sky redder, and the others do not return. They do not come bustling through the door, laden with plastic bags full of supplies. Their voices do not echo down the street as they make their way back to the lab.

There are plenty of reasons they could have been delayed. They could be lost, or maybe they met that guy called Hongjoong again, yet you can’t help but feel the sinking feeling of despair re-enter your chest, when before you’d been so light and happy and hopeful. Hyunjin stares down at his lap and picks nervously at his cuticles. You glare worriedly out the window, tapping your foot on the floor.

Jisung begins to hyperventilate.

Immediately, you scoot over until you sit on the floor beside him. He’s rocking back and forth, his hands clenched into fists so hard that you know his nails must be digging painfully into his skin. His worry is contagious, settling in your bones and creeping into the back of your mind, armed with doubt.

Hyunjin is frozen where he is sat, and for a terrible, mind numbing moment, you feel painfully out of your depth - you know you could fight to protect him, but this is not something you know how to deal with. Minho or Chan would know what to do, not you.

Still, you prise his hands open so you can hold them. Positioning yourself so he can feel the press of your front against his back, you grip him tight enough for him to stop rocking. You tell yourself that the others will come back, repeating those words like a mantra, and even though you cannot fully deceive yourself, it steadies you nonetheless.

“Breathe with me,” you command, in a voice that leaves no room for arguing - a voice that sounds just like Chan’s.

Jisung’s breathing stutters, his chest heaving with the effort of it, but he fights to obey you, and you hold him close to you, grounding him even when his grasp on your fingers begins to sting with how hard he squeezes them. His trembling begins to ease up, and you loosen your arms on him, but he grips onto your wrist, keeping you wrapped around him. Carefully, you stroke his hair, keeping your breathing slow and deliberate.

“I’m here,” you soothe. “Jinnie’s here as well, okay?”

He twists in your arms so he can face you. Tears have tracked down his cheeks, and you wipe them away with your thumbs, a tight ache developing in your chest when his face crumples and he hides himself in your embrace again. Hyunjin shuffles over, resting his head on your shoulder and stroking a hand down Jisung’s back. You realise he’s shaking too.

“What if the next wave starts and they’re out there?” Jisung asks quietly.

“We’d have seen the ship coming down,” you tell them firmly, pushing back flashes of your dreams that crowd your head. “It’s not over yet.”

Hyunjin nods against your shoulder, a little sniffle escaping him. You wrap an arm around his shoulder and bring him a little closer, resting your chin on his head. The three of you stay like that for a while, tangled together as you listen to the sound of your heartbeats; there is a tension filling the lab not unlike the tightness in the air before rainfall, and you attempt to tamp down your worries, keeping them to yourself when the sky becomes the darker than the deepest of red wines and stars begin to wink to life.

This is the calm before the storm. You’re just afraid that your own, more personal storm might have arrived before the big one.

“I hate them,” Jisung announces after a while, and his arms tighten around you.

“The aliens?” You ask.

He nods. “I don’t care if they hear. I hope they hear - I hope they know I hate them for what they’ve taken from us.”

He has raised his head from where it was resting on your shoulder, and there is a fire in his eyes that you have not seen before, paired with pain woven through with a bitter sort of determination - the type derived from spite, the dogged tenacity to survive. A lump grows in your throat. You pull him close again, burying your face in his hair so he and Hyunjin don’t see the tears welling at your lash line.

You hate the aliens too. You hate them for their fucking games and stupid horsemen, you hate the way they’ve invaded your sky, you hate that they have broken millions of hearts and torn families apart. And now, if the others don’t come back, another family will have been lost.

The waiting makes you feel helpless. Restless, you pace circles in your mind, wondering whether you should go out and search for them, but that would leave Jisung and Hyunjin alone, and the next horseman could arrive at any time. You want something to do, something to put your mind off the worry, but there is nothing. All you can do is pull the two of them closer to you and soothe them with hollow words.

You’re about to suggest trying to eat something when the sound of footsteps approaches. You’re all on your feet in seconds, hurtling to the door, and before you can think to caution him, Hyunjin has shoved it open and looks out with wild hope bright in his eyes.

It’s dark outside. You can see silhouettes making their way towards you, their heads bowed tiredly, and though you can’t see their faces, you know for sure now - it’s not over yet. It won’t ever be over, as long as you’re all together and breathing.

Jisung sprints out into the street and hurls himself right into Minho’s arms.

You slump against the doorframe, relief swamping any anger you felt at them for coming back so late. Minho has dropped his bags and is gripping Jisung tight, his nose buried in the younger man’s hair, eyes squeezed closed - the sight is poignant enough to make your vision blur with unshed tears, vanquishing the tension that had been pervading your body for the last few hours. You step into Felix’s arms, your knees feeling as if they may give out any second.

“What happened?” You breathe out, sheltering in his embrace.

“There were dogs,” he replies, patting your back soothingly. “We were stuck balancing on top of a food shelving unit until they got bored and left. I’m sorry, we came back as fast as we could.”

You almost find it in you to laugh. All that worry, while the boys were camped out on the top shelf, waiting for animals that used to be beloved pets to lose interest in them. It feels as if you should take it as a warning, a reminder that you should take nothing for granted, but it fills you with a vicious triumph instead - they came back, and that’s what matters.

You squeeze him hard enough that he squeaks. “Don’t be sorry. Just, I was - we were scared. Shitless. Don’t ever do that again, you fucker.”

He laughs, and suddenly, with that bright sound ringing sweetly through the air, everything is alright again.

Everything continues to be alright until, a few hours later, you all decide to sleep, and though you are not alone as you once were, the dreams still come.

Snatches of laughter echo in your ears. Grasping, shadowy fingers tear at your hair and clothes. A blonde woman and a bronze skinned man, reduced to nothing but puppets, command swathes and swathes of survivors.

Reaping more than should ever be taken, great slaughter and boundless hunger ravages the land. There is only endless falling, like you are trapped in the vast pull of a black hole.

Eventually, you wrest yourself from the visions' claws.

Panting, sweat breaking out all over your skin in sharp prickles, you sit up, kicking the blanket off you. You pause for a moment, listening. Tonight is a rare night where Chan is actually asleep - his breathing is deeper and far slower than it is when he lies with his eyes closed, pretending. He is still next to you, frighteningly so, and you wish you could not so easily imagine him lifeless beside you.

Moonlight bleeds from the crack in the blinds, alighting on Hyunjin’s shoulders and spilling from them like a crimson cloak. His head is bent towards someone else, a slighter figure, with light hair, blonde hair -

She’s here.

And then you realise that the blonde is slightly grown out, that it’s far too glossy and a little too short to be hers. You deflate in relief. It’s just Felix. When he turns his face towards you, you see his sweet eyes and his freckles, and wonder how you could have ever seen his hair and mistaken him for her, even in the near darkness and from across the room.

Felix smiles and beckons you over, and you get up, keeping your footsteps quiet. The two of them have tucked the Hello Kitty blanket around them - a glance over your shoulder reveals that Changbin is now sharing Seungmin’s blanket, tucking himself tight against the younger man’s back, even in sleep. Hyunjin opens the blanket on his side, and you gratefully wedge yourself in.

The lab air is cold and a little biting, as if there aren’t solid walls separating you from outside, but you feel warmed by their actions, by the openness blooming so plainly on both their faces that it makes your heart ache.

“Nightmares?” Felix asks.

Mutely, you nod.

“Do you want to talk about yours?” Hyunjin asks. “Sometimes it helps.”

You blanch. Telling them of your fever dreams feels like speaking truth into them, like giving them the power to become real. There’s a chance that they’re just the substance of your terrified mind, but they have a strange quality to them, like the humming, disastrous tone of a prophecy. Not telling them could be withholding information that might be valuable.

“I had these visions when I was ill,” you blurt, then quieten your voice. “I don’t know if they were visions or dreams. Either way, they showed the next three horsemen.”

Hyunjin sucks in a sharp breath, stiffening beside you. Although he doesn’t say anything, Felix reaches out and squeezes your hand, and you cling to him like he’s your anchor, willing yourself to continue. It is harder than expected to describe what you saw - the images flash before your eyes, the scents and the sounds right in your head, and yet your tongue is stiff in your mouth with fear and dread.

“The one coming now is War. He…” You struggle with your words, wondering how many details are needed. “I think he possessed these two people. They’re supposed to be generals of some sort, maybe. Once he looked at them, they were his.”

Hyunjin curses under his breath. A rustle sounds nearby, like the sound of someone rolling over, and you glance up, aware that your voice had risen and taken on a panicked edge near the end of your sentence. Jeongin is stirring, but soon he relaxes, and you twist the blanket in your fingers, worrying at a loose thread.

“Keep going,” Felix urges.

“The third one is Famine. She was terrible, but beautiful too,” you murmur, unable to meet their eyes. “This one was hazier. I just remember the hunger, so strong that I would have done anything to destroy it. It felt like my body was changing, too, but I think that part was symbolic of something. Like the weighing scales she had.”

“Symbolic, like of the monsters humanity is becoming?” Hyunjin says, the horror clear in his voice.

Swallowing harshly, you press on. “The last was Death. There are blurry parts, parts I can't focus on, like what he said to me, but I remember other bits. Falling. What he looked like. I was - ” Your voice cracks. “ - terrified. That’s the clearest bit. The fear. I was helpless.”

Felix squeezes your hand. “We’ll - we’ll make it through. We’ll survive them.”

You can’t fathom how strong he must be to say that.

“Please don’t tell the others,” you whisper. “In case it’s not true, and it was all just some crazy fever dream. I - I don’t want to scare them. Chan will worry.”

“I agree,” Felix replies. “We don’t know if it’s real.” He squeezes your hand again. “Thank you for telling us.”

“Thank you for listening,” you mumble.

What you really mean is: thank you for staying, thank you for looking after me while I was under Pestilence’s hold, while I went crazy and could have killed or hurt you all. They are insane, for risking their own lives for you, merciful where the end of the world should have hardened their hearts.

Hyunjin is silent. You are too afraid to glance over and look him in the eyes, for fear that you will be condemned by what you will see in them. He doesn’t say anything for a long time, just huddles under the blanket with the rest of you, and you wonder if he hates you for being the bearer of news that could be the death of every person in this room.

You wouldn’t be surprised if that is the case, yet when he finally turns to you, he hugs you tight - tight enough to squeeze all the air out of your lungs, yet it doesn’t suffocate you. It feels like he’s holding you together, just like it did with Chan.

You allow a few of your tears to soak into his shirt before you pull yourself together.

When you raise your head, you realise Hyunjin is crying too, and yet the tears streaking down his cheeks look like war paint. He looks strong, like a warrior prince, and fearsome. Though he weeps, it is the farthest thing from a weakness.

And then he yawns, rubs at his face, and he is just sleepy, Hello-Kitty-blanket-around-his-shoulders Hyunjin again. Still, you see the remnants of that magnificence, and you know that although it has receded, it is as much a part of him as the tired but brave smile he sends you when he catches you looking.

“Shall we go back to sleep?” Felix asks.

You nod, and Hyunjin stands, wiping his eyes and holding the blanket around his neck like a cape. A smile tugs at your lips, and he grins down at you, doing a little twirl - the soft fabric flares out at the bottom, and you duck to avoid getting smacked in the face by it, opening your mouth to tell him that he looks like some sort of Sanrio monarch.

A keen whine splits the air like a guillotine.

The colour drains from Felix’s face, and his eyes dart immediately to the window. Hyunjin freezes. Suddenly, Jeongin is up, and he rolls right out from under the blankets and onto his feet, crossing the room to the window so he can yank the blind open. Baffled, you follow his gaze, and your heart sinks.

It’s a ship. The next horseman is coming.

You haven’t heard the sound of one of their ships before - you’d been delirious - but there’s no doubt left in your mind as one of the dark specks in the sky detaches from the others and arcs towards the ground like a falling star.

The Reprieve is over.

taglist: @estella-novella @0bticeo @lixies-favorite-cookie @smashleywow @realrintaro @extremechaoswarning @4l17h4 @hyunjinsjeans @insufferablyunbearable @lovemepie67 @needsumcomfypillowstosleep @loumin908 @rxlvvrz @iris-iiridescent @brbwritingfanfic @missseoulite @juliettejwnewinesa (let me know if you want to be added)

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

My gender is none boy with left girl (on a they pizza crust)

[bumblingbabooshka]

This is literally one of my favorite moments for both Harry Kim and B’Elanna characterization. I think a lot of people forget how soft hearted and altruistic B’Elanna specifically can be while Harry, of course a friendly and sweet individual, devotes himself most often to the mission, his friends and Starfleet’s ideals. Harry’s been shown to be much more down-to-earth and less fantastical in his thinking than either Tom or B’Elanna. The only time he gets in major trouble with Janeway and breaks protocol is because he wants to be with a woman. This is distinctly different to me than Tom’s (attempting to save an alien world) and B’Elanna’s (giving a robot race the ability to reproduce) transgressions. His other biggest infraction is begin a mutiny which he does in order to save Janeway & Chakotay. He doesn’t get in trouble for this which is why I put it last but again it seems different from Tom or B’Elanna to me because it’s For The Ship it’s For The Captain it’s a crime which displays his loyalty to Janeway instead of one which demonstrates him going against her ideologically (as shown by the lack of punishment). In that way I think B’Elanna and Harry balance each other well. B’Elanna is a person who seems very nervous and defensive when in conversation with others, who thinks of herself as a person who is ‘bad’ and doesn’t believe in herself much. Meanwhile Harry seems to be at ease with most anyone he speaks to, attempting to befriend even Seven of Nine right away. He’s confident in himself and his abilities and out of everyone (yes even Tom who seems most often to just become frustrated) would be the one to push B’Elanna and break through her defenses. That’s to say it makes perfect sense that B’Elanna would be absolutely enamored by this person who views her as inspiring, would be struck by that while Harry views it as just a weird question. 

[istherewifiinhell]

banging my head against the wall. does anyone wanna go insane and read TMNT Mirage #37 with me? An emotionally fraught jouney of faith and family and battling for or against your roots of eons past? You should. But if your not in for reading a 40 page comic I have a condensed visual/textual moments and summation for you! You might enjoy it!

[Mirage 37, Rick McCollum and Bill Anderson]

ID: Turtles walking through a forest with full camping bags. Mikey has his mask around his neck and wears a bucket hat: Well..." Raph wears a wide brimmed fedora type hat, he balances one sai by its point on his finger: "You do got a point, buddy." Leo is shadowed in the back with a straw hat. END

[In this comic the turtles are depicted with understated beaks and look lankier than Classic Mirage style. Their skin is usually in the darker of the 2 toners, and their masks are left without toner.]

ID: From behind the group, Don and Mikey in silhouette up front. Behind them, Raph is throwing his sai in the air. Leo is saying "I believe you Don, but... Spiritual meaning? Maybe you're reading too much into it." Close on Don's face, frowning "No, I'm not." END.

[See Donatello: The Ring, in Turtle Soup #2] Here's what you missed: Don went on a spiritual journey by himself. Now he wants them all to experience it.

ID: Three turtles and Splinter in the farm house living room. Raph and Mikey on the couch with books, Leo on the floor polishing his sword. Splinter standing to the side. Raph: Yeah, but Casey's car's on the blink. Mike: I hope its doesn't fall apart while he's out with April. Leo: Don will fix it when he returns. Raph has one leg up, is tossing some shuriken in one hand, his books says "Fun with sai". Mike slouches and has a drink can, his book is "Life of Bruce Lee" END

ID: Three Panels of Don explaining his experience in front of a large fire, fiddling with his bo staff, the flames curl around him as he speaks. A brow raised: But it wasn't the trees- It was one of us! The Father of All Reptiles Looking contemplative: He was a turtle. Or a ghost. Some kind of spirit... With a sheepish smile: And I'm glad I met him. He said I was special... END

Splinter reprimands the other turtles for not taking Don seriously. His lecture:

"Your lack of respect is unbecoming. Have I so failed you that you have no feel for your heritage, your roots? Reptiles ruled this world for uncounted eons, your people strode the land, slipped through the warm seas, and skittered about the sky. Though gone, their blood is your blood. And their spirit should be yours! They are your elders, with their bones left in the rock, lasting forever in the skin of the world. Respect them, and honor their spirits as you do me!" "Recall the time you spent, eons past, with your friend Renet. How you spoke of it once you'd returned! Did you not feel a sense of unity with that time? Did you not resonate to the heart-beat of the archosaurs? Your enthusiasm lingered for weeks."

[See Tales of TMNT 7] They went back in time and met dinosaurs, amongst other things.

ID: Panels with a close up on each character. April in profile, with a solemn look: You babbled on about it for days. Mike smiling wide: Yeah! It was warm! Leo, clutching his sword, looking away: I felt so free! Raph, his mask pushed up to his forehead, an eyes closed smile: Three months of fishing! Don, holding his staff, looking down: Yes, I was... Happy. END

Splinter continues to speak.

"Happiness…Ah, Donatello, it is so ephemeral. As was the time of those reptiles. Everything is a ring, and the ring turns. The world grew cold, small, furry creatures came out of the shadows. The dinosaurs died. The age of mammals began."

Raph, upset, gets disparaging about what the predominance of mammals has done to the earth.

ID: Three panels. Raph, shocked, hand over his mouth: I can't believe I said that. Splinter looming over Raph, who jerks back. Splinter: ~Think~ before~ you~ speak~ Raphael! Raph: I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Splinter: Need I remind you that your best friend Casey Jones is a mammal? Close on Raph and April. Splinter off panel: Not to mention myself? Raph: Eep! April grimacing: I'm feeling warm-blooded and hairy also! END

ID: Four panels. Caption box: And look they do— Raph looking at two trees growing diagonally, thinking: I don't even know what I'm looking for. Leo, partially hidden behind foliage, thinking: Something's up. I feel... something. Mike, looking at a tree that's grown a loop in its trunk, thinking: Is this a "spiritual experience?" Don, walking through the trees in silhouette thinking: Why can't I find the place?" END

After a day of searching, they camp, but Mike goes missing during his watch in the night.

ID: Two panels, each showing Raph and Don and they face off and argue, their speech bubbles placed between them. Raph is backed up against a tree, angry, clenching his sais tightly. Don has his bo like a walking stick, and seems calmer.

Raph: Why? Mike needs us! Don, with an irregular speech bubble: Either he is alive or he is dead. The quest is more important. R: What are you talking about? What's wrong with you? D, normal bubble: Nothing. I had a dream last night. If we give up the quest, we've lost. R: Mike is more important! D: That's what the adversary hopes you think. R: What adversary? D, irregular bubble: Have Faith. R: Donatello! D, regular bubble: Remember when you devovled? We kept faith. R, yelling: AAARGH! END

[See Mirage 24-26] Raph was de-mutated into a regular turtle, his brothers had to go on a journey to save him.

ID: Leo, mask off, scowling "This is what we'll do. Break camp. Consolidate our gear. Bury what's left. We're on a combat mission now. We'll keep faith, Don, but--. A narrow panel of Don, drawn small, gripping his staff: What? Leo getting in Don's face, displeased: I hate leaving Mike. -- Just make sure you're right. END

Raph goes missing on their second nights watch, Don becomes stranger and more convicted about this quest.

ID: Leo, furiously, points in the direction of the viewer, accusing Don. "What's with you? Why are you so out of it?! -- What's wrong with your voice? [Larger text] Don't you care about Mike or Raph?! END

ID: Don sits facing away from Leo, gripping his staff, angry, speaking towards his hands. Leo looks on from a ways back, dramatically lit. Don: [Large text] Of course I do! [Normal text] But... I don't know what's wrong with my voice. I don't know who the Adversary is. And yet..." END

ID from alt: Two panels, Leo glaring, getting in Don's face, pointing at his beak, grabbing Don's staff. "Who told you this?" Don has brows raised. Don, with a wincing smile: "The Father of us all." END

ID: Multiple panels. Close on Leo, "Remember what I said about being sure?" Don holding his staff in front of himself, seemingly scared, "Leo, please." Mid on Leo, more neutral frown, "Don..." Full body, Leo turns away, the wind picks up. Leo facing away, pulled back shot. "Let's keep going." END

Narration as they travel further into stranger and stranger territory.

Leonardo: What was to be a relaxing romp has become a grueling death march. Sweating and hacking through the threatening undergrowth, he understands that he is hopelessly lost. As lost as Donatello seems to be, following an Unknown pull, mumbling to somebody only he can hear Donatello: while Leonardo must fight the wild landscape, he slips easily through the thorns. And he listens, and talks. Hair is better than scales? The birds are traitors, having stolen the secret of hot blood? Giants, brought low by small, furry ones? As he pursues the silent beckoning, he learns...

They have a run in with a foe in pitch black forest. They take many hits but score one back, severing one limb, hairy and clawed, then retreat. Don garbs himself in some make shift religious fair, using his blanket, mud and ash. The two sleep, they dream.

And they dream the same dream. They see their blood rise and rule. The ring is turning. The reptiles differentiate, and claim the seas and air. They see their family as it might have become- If the ring hadn't broken. They feel contempt for their children, the birds, as they invade the skies. But it is nothing compared to the fear which the small hairy ones bring. The furry horde had been around since the reptiles beginnings- swarming… unstoppable.

ID: Three panels. Caption Box: The morning brings questions. Leo and Don sit with their backs to a tree. Don's taken his mask off, made a dark markings on his face and body, and wears a hood. Leo: Did you dream-? Don: Yes. Leo looks upset, gestures with a hand in front of himself. "I... felt grief. Anguish. They must be let loose. -- But why? And how?" Don's face is completely shadowed by his hood, his eyes and teeth stick out in far too much detail. It is an unsettling smile. "You're starting to learn." END

Another fight, Don's leg is broken by the mammalian Adversary. Leo, with all the weight of the loss of his brothers, takes position to make a last stand protecting him. But Don urges him to continue on, to find and aid the Father of all Reptiles.

ID: Many panels, Don injured, propped against a tree. Eyes closed in pain he says "Can't you hear?" Leo looks behind them. A strange voice says "Come." Close on Don, crying, yelling at Leo "Go! Please! I have faith in you!" Leo's eyes, frowning. Leo's hand, offering his sword. Leo's eyes, he's crying through his mask. "Take this." Don's hand taking the sword from Leo. Narrow panel, Leo walks away, remaining sword drawn. "Fight well." END

ID: A cut off panel with dialogue, and a close on Leo, framed between two rocks, crying heavily. The says: You have become one with sorrow. You are sad. I am glad. Now we may speak. END

Leo climbs and the conversation continues.

Narration: There are sounds behind him, as he climbs. Voice: Your brother Donatello gave me joy when we met. I thought it would release me from my grief. Narration: Following him as he scampers every higher. Voice: I tried to go. But joy is ephemeral-- Narration: Leonardo reaches the top with haste. Voice: While melancholy lasts forever.

Leo sits at the mountain peak, thinks of his brothers, contemplates the sounds of the Adversary below and the Father of all Reptiles speaks to him more, as he falls into sleep.

This is my nexus, my holy spot. This is my prison, where I am trapped by my sadness. Dream of extinction. Dream of death. Once we were, now we are not. You and yours are what we could have been-- Had not the hairy ones come. All the scaly brethren are my children… But they hairy ones killed them-

Leo wakes slowly to a growl, then all at once with a yelp.

ID: Full page, the Father of all reptiles finishes in a yell. "THEY ATE MY EGGS!" The mammalian Adversary's loud growl just under the speech bubble. It looms in the panel, over Leo at the bottom, his sword drawn. The Adversary, large and rodent like, fur dark, eyes gleaming, foam dripping from its mouth. One arm severed and still bleeding, implanted in it are the weapons from Leo's brothers. Raph's sai in its leg, Mike's nunchaku in the stub of its arm, Don's staff and Leo's other sword in its chest. Other small rodents cling to its form. Surrounding the image, marginalia in the corners. Cracked eggs up top, rodents in the bottom. And a border of text, listing eras, genera and species of or relating to early mammals. END

Leo's brothers, injured, wounds wrapped and broken limbs braced, are following his trail. They see signs in the sky, Mikey thinks it looked like a massive turtle. Don is assured with his faith that this means the Father of All Reptiles is aiding Leo, and that they should rest. Mike and Raph leave him to sit at the mountain base (offering him another weapon for protection), and make their way up.

Narration: At the pinnacle, a warm, fresh breeze wafts downward. The trees below grow normal. Throughout the world, fossil Mesozoic eggs break apart, as fetal reptile souls are let loose. Paleontologists will find no more intact eggs. EVER.

ID: Full page panel, Leo sits at the base of the giant cracked egg of the Father of All Reptiles. Sword dangling, he's exhausted, blood splatters him, his sword, and the mottled surface of the egg shell. The Adversary's head and remaining hand are laying to one side, the dark mass of fur on his other. His brothers cresting the peak see him, and he says "We freed him. The wheel is moving again. The ring is whole." Caption box: And whole, the ring moves on. A Marginalia drawing in the corner shows a small rodent, the front of its body inside the cracked shell of an egg. END

[pantestudines]

having a "former gifted kid" type mental spiral

[batri-jopa]

Some fanarts (by multiple artists) of the movie And Then We Danced / და ჩვენ ვიცეკვეთ (2019) dir. Levan Akin

(Note: most fanarts in this post were found on Instagram and so most links lead to Instagram)

"Final Dance" scene:

Art made by Liza Aslanishvili

Quote by Mebo Nutsubidze:

თუ შენს ტრადიციას სხვისი სიყვარული შეურაცხყოფს, მაშინ ტრადიციაშია პრობლემა და არა - სიყვარულში.

[Translation: If your tradition is insulted by someone else's love, then the problem is in tradition, not in love.]

Art by marr__ich (link no longer valid)

Art by Александра Ксоврели [Aleksandra Ksovreli]

Art by Gilles Tytgat (The_inflatable_balloon)

Art by haru__ca_ (link no longer valid)

Art by Karl Johnsson

Art by Julian Stips

Art by ... [author not mentioned]

Art by ... [author not mentioned]

Art by 오백 | O-Baek

Art by Inka (ma.l.inka)

Art by "trawyrawy" Анна Бородина [Anna Borodina]

Art by Ruda Rada

Art by Jordi Brunet

Art by Ashna

Art by cizmeeeez

Art by ... [author not mentioned]

[bootleg-nessie]

Rating band names based on their accuracy:

(I keep updating this list so check back later)

The Beatles: 3/10. None of these people are beetles, they’re just a bunch of fruity guys from Liverpool with matching haircuts

(Edit: changed from 0/10 to 3/10 because John Lennon beat his wife)

Pink Floyd: 4/10. There is not a single person named Floyd in the band, but some of the members do arguably look kinda pink

Nirvana: 10/10. Getting high and listening to Nirvana is roughly what I imagine actual nirvana to be like

Foo Fighters: either 0/10 or 10/10. I have never seen foo in real life so either they’re pretending to fight a problem that doesn’t exist or they’re doing an absolutely fantastic job of fighting it

The Eagles: 0/10. Same as the Beatles, there is not a single eagle in this band. The name is misleading and we have all been lied to

Queen: 6/10. Partial points for Freddie Mercury

Led Zeppelin: 0/10. I don’t think any of these guys have ever even seen a zeppelin, let alone one made of lead. A lead balloon would crash faster than my hopes and dreams

The Rolling Stones: 3/10. There is not a single stone in this band. Some points added because I’m pretty sure they rolled quite a few

U2: 0/10. Despite what the name says, I am not a member of this band

Metallica: 9/10. Naming a metal band “Metallica” is like naming your dog “doggy”

Red Hot Chili Peppers: 2/10. These guys are not chili peppers. They’re not even that hot, let alone red hot

Guns N’ Roses: 0/10. How the fuck could a gun or a flower play music

Backstreet Boys: ?/10. Depends entirely on their current given location

Simon and Garfunkel: 10/10. No notes

The Doors: 1/10. Jim Morrison is kinda shaped like a door tho

Chicago: 4/10. The number of people in this band does not come even remotely close to the population of Chicago. Points added because it originated in Chicago

Earth, wind, and fire: 2/10. This is even more innacurate than Chicago. Points added because wind instruments were often used

Def Leppard: 3/10. There is not a single leopard in this band. Some of the members are probably kinda deaf by now tho

The Beach Boys: ?/10. Accuracy depends entirely on location

The Black Eyed Peas: 6/10. Not sure what the hell an ‘eyed pea’ is but the black part is pretty accurate

Imagine Dragons: ?/10. Depends entirely on whether or not they’re thinking about dragons.

Cage the Elephant: 1/10. Why would you do that. Let the elephant go

Green Day: 0/10. They’re not even green

The Police: 0/10. There is not a single cop in this band

KISS: 5/10. I’m sure they probably kissed sometimes

The Monkees: 0/10. Are you fucking kidding me

We Butter the Bread with Butter: 8/10. I can’t verify this but I have no reason to suspect that they’d lie. Butter seems like the most logical thing to butter bread with

King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard: 0/10. I got really excited about the concept of a lizard wizard only to be let down. My disappointment is immeasurable

They Might Be Giants: 5/10. I googled everyone in this band’s height, the tallest guy’s only 6’1 so I wouldn’t exactly consider him a giant. Then again, I can’t really argue because the claim was only that they MIGHT be giants

The Presidents of the United States of America: 2/10. None of these people are Joe Biden nor are any of them former presidents. This is incredibly misleading. I’m pretty sure “Lump” was written about my first girlfriend tho so I’ll give them a point or two

Gorillaz: 2/10 Not quite but we’re kinda close genetically so I’ll give them partial credit

The Killers: ?/10. I have no way of verifying if they’ve actually killed before but the fact that they’re not in prison tells me probably not

The Offspring: 10/10. These guys are definitely somebody’s offspring

Arctic Monkeys: 1/10. They are neither monkeys nor are they from the arctic

Thirty Seconds to Mars: 1/10. It takes WAY longer to get to mars than that

Beastie Boys: 8/10. They’re pretty beast on the guitar

Jimmy Eat World: 1/10. Slow the fuck down Jimmy, you’re biting off way more than you can chew

Hole: 9/10. One point deducted because I’m pretty sure they had more than one hole

Rage Against the Machine: 10/10. They did exactly that

Alice In Chains: 0/10. This is illegal. Let Alice go

The Band: 10/10. This could not possibly be more accurate

Nine Inch Nails: 1/10. I can’t find any good pictures of their feet but from what I can tell their fingernails definitely aren’t nine inches long

Bush: ?/10. Not quite sure about this one, felt uncomfortable asking

The Who: 2/10. I’m not dealing with this “Who’s On First” bullshit

Radiohead: 0/10. Not a single person in this band has a radio for a head

Queens of the Stone Age: 0/10. This band should be called “five random dudes from the modern era” but FRDFTMA is a bit of a mouthful

Soundgarden: 2/10. Sound does not grow in the garden

Sonic Youth: 5/10. They’re not exactly youth anymore but the sonic part checks out

Talking heads: 8/10. There’s more to the band than just a bunch of disembodied heads but the heads do tend to talk

The Cranberries: 0/10. Decent music but I only added them so that the Beatles and Freddie Mercury weren’t the only fruits on this list

The Wiggles: 8/10. They do tend to wiggle a lot

Blue Man Group: 10/10. Yep!

Weezer: 5/10. They all look like they definitely have asthma

Limp Bizkit: 3/10. While the visual image of baked goods playing the guitar is hilarious, Fred durst is not a biscuit. Points added because he probably has erectile dysfunction

Stone Temple Pilots: 0/10. None of these people are accredited as being licensed to pilot anything, much less an entire stone temple. Stone temples don’t need pilots anyways

Wasted Youth: 8/10. I guess it really kinda depends on how you frame it but yeah, they probably wasted a lot of it

Them Crooked Vultures: 3/10. These are people and not birds but Dave Grohl’s posture is kinda bad and John Paul Jones is so old that his neck kinda looks like a vulture’s so I added some points

Audioslave: 0/10. Slavery is illegal

Traveling Wilburys: 4/10. Sure, they traveled a lot but not a single one of those lying bastards was named Wilbury

D12: 6/12. There were only 6 people in this band

NWA: 10/10. I’m a little too white to safely comment on this one but I’d say they nailed it

Jet: 1/10. A real jet would be way too loud

Goldfinger: 0/10. Not a single person in this band has a finger made out of gold

No Doubt: ?/10. I can’t really be too sure how Gwen Stefani felt but I think it’s probably a safe assumption that she had some doubts

The White Stripes: 3/10. I bet if you stripped them down naked and made them stand shoulder to shoulder and squinted really hard they’d probably look more like white stripes

Screaming trees: 3/10. They scream occasionally

Garbage: 2/10. I think they’re being a little harsh on themselves, their music isn’t THAT bad

Butthole Surfers: 5/10. Not even gonna touch this one

Megadeth: 3/10. To be fair, some of the former members are dead but only a little amount of death, not mega death

Dead Kennedys: 2/10. Last I checked Kennedy was still dead but neither he nor his clones are members of this band

Cake: 0/10. The cake is a lie

Cracker: 8/10. Most of them are

Tool: 7/10. I don’t know much about their music but they sure look like tools

Counting Crows: ?/10. Is this what emo kids do instead of counting sheep? Accuracy depends on whatever bird they happen to be counting at the moment

Dave Matthews Band: 10/10. It certainly is

Oasis: 1/10. Their music is the opposite of an oasis

Blur: 2/10. They are not that fast

Barenaked Ladies: 0/10. If I wanted to be this disappointed I’d reestablish a connection with my biological father instead

Meat Puppets: 10/10. Technically, aren’t we all?

Live: 8/10. Apparently they still do live shows but I deducted some points because I’ve only ever heard their music on Spotify

ABBA: 9/10. I’m still not giving any points to Guns N’ Roses but that’s mostly out of spite

5 Finger Death Punch: 8/10 I guess it probably depends on how hard you hit them but this seems to be the usual amount of fingers to punch somebody with

All American Rejects: 9/10. They’re all rejects from America so I don’t really see any issue with this

T. Rex: 0/10. Even if any of these people WAS a T. Rex I don’t think their arms would be long enough to play their instruments

Free: 0/10. Unless you steal their music, in which case it becomes a 10/10

The Strokes: 3/10. To my knowledge, none of them have had a stroke but I still added a few points because the name was probably accurate for other reasons

The Smashing Pumpkins ?/10. Another thing I have no way of verifying but this seems like a waste of perfectly good pumpkins

Therapy?: ?/10. The hell are they asking me for? I don’t know their medical history

Twenty One Pilots. 0/10. There’s only two of them and neither is a licensed pilot

Finger Eleven: 0/10. Leave the poor Stranger Things girl out of this

Fall Out Boy: 9/10. I conferred with an expert on this one who confirmed that they are in fact boys who had a falling out

Cream: 8/10. Considering this was the OG supergroup I’m sure a lot of people did in fact cream when their music came out

Edit: humans aren’t fucking monkeys. Stop saying we are

[whirlybirbs]

— CAN'T WE BE SEVENTEEN? ; shoto todoroki ; 焦凍

summary: he's loved you since he was seventeen. pairing: f!reader x pro hero!shoto ; reader was a 1-A student tags: mutual pining, heavy make-out, thinly veiled sugar daddy shoto, reader does not go pro, touya might be a dick but he's a hero now, shoto is bad at feelings wordcount: 5.6k a/n: i do not fucking know what came over me, enjoy your food my little todorokinas. yes the title is what you think it is. no i will not elaborate.

You never did go pro.

Truthfully, you thought there would be more pushback when, in your senior year, you announced your plan to pursue a degree in early childhood education with a focus on non-conforming quirk development. 

The War changed a lot. It changed you, your classmates, and the world. But, through it all one thing stuck with you:

What if someone helped Tenko Shimura?

How different would his life have been? How different would history have spun? 

You graduated at the top of your class and joined the faculty at Chiba Prefectural Preparatory School for Quirk Specialties two years ago. 

Chiba Prep was opened eight years ago in response to a societal cry for more infrastructure around what was dubbed "non-conforming quirks": a nice way to say quirks that can injure, maim, or kill. Maybe even all three on a bad day. Some parents still see their child being labeled as a non-conforming quirk user in the national database as akin to social suicide. 

You see it differently.

Your quirk allows you to manipulate emotions — anger, sadness, betrayal, love, hatred. If you can feel it, you can sink it into another's psyche deep enough to drive them to act. You can even imbue things with feelings. For example, a cup of warm milk can transform into more than just a simple comfort, now it can hold the feeling of home and safety, or even exhaustion strong enough to put even the biggest foe to rest. 

You could easily use your quirk with nefarious intent. 

You could steep hatred in someone's bone so deep it drives them to harm themselves. You could sew fury so solid into someone's mind it drives them to violence. 

Just a touch and you can control others with something so intrinsically personal it only exists within themselves: their feelings.

What makes you any different from little Asuke, a shy little girl with a quirk that allows her to see people's greatest fears, and then manifest and control them? You're convinced she can use this for good, if only with practice. In your mind, her future is bright and glimmering. Perhaps she will become a therapist, focusing on exposure therapy? Or, maybe the most prolific horror novelist in their time? 

Or, bright and sunny Tao — a transplant whose parents sought out Chiba Prep's specialized education — whose heteromorphic quirk makes his bodily fluids, namely saliva, eat through nearly anything but his own biologics. A sneeze is quickly the most dangerous thing in the world for the cheery, lizard-bodied class clown. 

He's just a boy given a quirk that needs more care. 

He isn't a villain-in-training. 

None of them are.

It's important to teach them that young — and as their teacher for Year 3 of their elementary schooling, you aim to hammer that in as much as possible. They deserve to feel normal. To feel loved and supported. They aren't scary, they're children. 

So, you take it upon yourself to insist on pushing for privileges like field trips. There aren't many public spaces that welcome the classes of Chiba Prep with open arms. Over the years, there have been plenty of incidents. But, a day trip into the city to visit Tokyo's Hall of Heroes is green-lit with bubbling excitement from both faculty, the children, and their parents. 

You usually keep your history as a graduated member of Class 1-A quiet. 

After all, you never did go pro.

And even still, Shoto Todoroki never stopped thinking about you.

He remembers that weekend everyone moved back in for their last year before graduation. He remembers you smiling at him, and helping him drag up a duffel of luggage from the common room to his dorm. You made a joke about how you're sure he got taller over the summer, and how his hair is longer now. You said you liked it. 

It was the beginning of the end, then.

His crush was a silent, smothering thing. It made it hard to think. Shoto had enough on his plate thanks to Touya's acceptance into the Villain Rehabilitation Program and his father's insistence on staving off retirement. Not to mention his parent's divorce — no matter how amicable, it was still a separation. Add on training, tests, studying, finals, and j-term classes... And a desperate, writhing, burning crush on the nicest girl in class? 

Touya's elbow digs into Shoto's side.

It drags him back to reality — to the stifled quiet of the historical Hall of Heroes. 

Suddenly, the doors to the wing squeak open, and a tour guide ushers in the elementary school class. The buzzing excitement and wonder are visible on each of their faces as the attendant — one of the HoH's lead tour guides — excitedly explains the newest, in-progress addition to the Hall:

Endeavor's wing. 

There's a whisper of awe that ripples through the children as their teacher and co-teacher follow, and as the class moves through the large, open space. They're staring up eagerly at the gilded statue in the center of the room. It's larger than life and intimidating. Years ago, Shoto might have had to fight the odd tremble in his knees at the reminder it brings: to be small in his father's shadow again. But, things are different now. 

Very different.

Touya scoffs. "I thought this wing wasn't open to the public yet."

"They're just children," Shoto hums, turning his back on the gaggle across the way to inspect the large mural winding along the back end of the installation, "I'm sure it's—"

"Oh, ho, no way!"

Shoto quirks his brow at his brother's outburst. His elbow digs into Shoto's ribs again. 

"Ain't that the pretty girl you never got the balls to ask out your senior year?" comes the rasped drawl of his older brother's voice. Touya is clearly amused, his white hair hanging in his eyes as he leans forward to squint, "She is cute, Sho'—"

"Shut up," Shoto grits, turning his head over his shoulder; he tries to bite back the flurry of nerves that ignite in his gut, "Stop talking."

It is you.

You look... good. 

Happy. 

You're crouched by a small, timid girl in the back of the crowd. Your hand is in hers, and you're pointing upwards at the large paneled screens replaying Endeavor's most historic fights. You're explaining something to her, your knees bent as you squat. You look... the same. As if in the six years since they graduated, you sat still in time. 

For a second, it's like he's seventeen again.

It's his senior year, and he's stuck at the corner of the gym's edge with a half-empty glass of punch in his hand. The lights are low, and there's slow music playing. His tie feels too tight. Bakugo keeps telling him to 'ask her to dance already', and Kirishima is considering bashing his head through the wall. Even Midorya is trying to persuade Shoto. 

"It's prom, man! C'mon, this could be your last chance—"

Touya is about to be a real pain in the ass — his favorite pastime — and make some comment about your ass, but when he turns to lob the one-liner at his baby brother, Shoto's gone.

Shoto is on the move.

The crescendo of gasps draws your attention first.

Then, the cry of "WOAH, IT'S SHOTO!" leaves you dumbfounded. The rippling murmur of excitement bleeds into the children as their eyes — and the eyes of the tour guide — widen at the sight of the approaching Pro Hero. 

Shoto Todoroki.

He looks... good. 

Really good.

He's a bit older, and a bit more filled out than when you were both teenagers. You can see the strength in his arms and shoulders — it's a distant echo of his father's physique, though Shoto is so much more elegant and much... prettier. He's always been.

For a second, you're seventeen again.

It's your senior year, and you're sprawled across Momo Yaoyorozu's bed.

They had finally wrangled out of you who your crush was: something they hadn't been able to do in all their years as classmates.

There's a sticky, Miss Midnight-themed face mask clinging to your expression as you try to flip through the large magazine in your hands as nonchalantly as possible. Mina's voice, as she paints Ochaco's nails a bright pink on the floor, is sweet and saccharine as she looks up at you.

"I think you and Shoto would be, like, the cutest couple ever." 

You're still crouched when the tour guide nervously — like she was caught doing something naughty — introduces The Pro Hero Shoto to the already-aware crowd of elementary school students and their teachers. It's like igniting a match; the uproar of excitement leaves you laughing as three of your boys push forward to bombard him with questions about his quirk. 

Asuke is smiling shyly, now. That's a small win. She's intrigued by the appearance of a real hero, not the "scary statues" — and her big, fat tears stopped rolling the moment you laid a gentle hand on her to quell her anxiety over the new environment with a push of comfort through your quirk. She unhooks her pinkie finger from yours as you guide her towards your co-teacher. 

"Boys," you call with a crisp air of authority as you stand and lead Asuke toward the bulk of the field trip group, "What have we learned about personal space?"

"It's fine, really, Insight," comes Shoto's voice; as warm and placid as you remember. 

"Insight?" mutters your co-teacher at the presumed hero-name; a look of confusion plasters itself on her face, and her big, feline ears perk up. She leans in to whisper in a way that borders on conspiratory, "Do you two know one another?"

"Old classmates," you confirm, not daring to get into the finer details.

Shoto's attention is entirely rooted in the way you manage the kids. There's something beautiful about the ease with which you handle the bouquet of students; you quell the excitement into a manageable decibel like it's as easy as breathing. 

"Shoto," you start as you gesture to him, "Has a very special quirk — Toyamai, he has ice like you. And, fire like Tojiro. He can regulate his temperature. Can anyone tell me what that means?"

There's a wave of hands shooting up, a few me, me, me's rise from the gaggle. 

You're using him as a teaching moment.

Shoto's smile is soft.

You nod at Ogomi, excitedly nodding as the reserved child speaks up. Normally, he hates public speaking. But, recently, he's started working with the speech pathologist during lunch. The boy bounces a little as he answers. "He doesn't g-get too hot, or too c-cold."

"Exactly! Isn't that cool?" you grin at the lazy attempt at a pun, "This is why it's important to learn about our quirks as much as we can!"

Touya thinks this whole thing is just too cute. 

You're different than he remembers — but, granted, things were sorta different last time he saw you. He was a little too busy tryna kill his old man and lil' Shoto. He's different now, too. A changed man! A real licensed hero. Support items and all. 

He hangs back. 

He... I mean, he is a jack-ass but he isn't gonna ruin this for Shoto. 

...It's kinda cute.

Just about as cute as Fuyumi said it was. 

Apparently, Shoto had opened up to her and Natsuo about his feelings after graduation — about how he regretted not doing anything about it. Fuyumi then told their mum, who then off-handedly mentioned it to Touya... and well Touya dug in because, duh, he is a whore for good gossip. He might be the family's black sheep, but Shoto is the glue that binds. 

And he deserves to be happy.

Your co-teacher is ushering the kids to the next installation — a viewing of All Might's Legacy, a new documentary following the retired pro's teaching career. It will be a good wind down for them, in comfy seats and the dark. It's hardly the sort of content an elementary school student would find riveting, but it is All Might. And they love him.

You hang back. 

Shoto's heart is hammering in his chest.

"Hey."

"Hi," you greet back, closing the door to the theater and stepping forward as you weave your arms around you, "Long time no see."

"Yea," Shoto breathes, his hands in his pockets as he meets you halfway across the museum's marble floors, "I... I see you're teaching."

His eyes are as pretty as they were back then. Slate grey and piercing turquoise. "I'm in my second year," you confirm softly, fiddling with the material of your sweater, "Congrats to your old man."

You gesture up at the statue, then wave around to the rest of the installation.

Shoto inhales, then nods; he's staring at your face, blissfully realizing you're just the way you were all those years ago. Kind. "I'll pass it along."

"How's he handling it?" you ask, your eyes raking across his expression and trying not to stick to the sharp slope of his jaw, or the bob of his Adam's apple, "Retirement, I mean."

"He's happy, I think. Touya and I are working together and... things are...  good."

Last month, Endeavor finally retired. He cited his age, and his dedication to passing his legacy to his two sons: Shoto and Touya. Shoto has planted himself firmly within the Top Ten in the last year or so, and shockingly, Touya isn't far behind. People love an underdog's redemption story, you suppose. 

And the underdog in question can read a room. 

This is getting a little too sexually tense for even him.

"Heeeeey, girl," he rasps out, staggering backward with a thumb over his shoulder, "Nice t' see ya. I'll let you two catch up, yea? I'm gonna go pop my head into the theater, see how the kids are handling the snooze fest on screen—"

You jump.

How long has he even been there?

"Hi, D— Touya," you strain, wincing a little; the rehab'd villain doesn't seem to mind.

"Hi, teach'. That cool with you?" he asks, wobbling his thumb and quirking a pierced eyebrow; it's comical, like he's trying to disarm you with humor, "Don't want you thinkin' I'm corrupting your youths—"

"It's fine," you breathe, ignoring the sting of age-old mistrust. You know better. Shoto wouldn't be here, with him, if Touya Todoroki hadn't changed. Endeavor wouldn't be entrusting his legacy to the ex-League of Villain member if he didn't believe in his capacity for good, "Just don't be disruptive."

Casting judgment on someone whose life was nearly destroyed by his own non-conforming quirk would go against everything you taught the kids anyway.

"Touya's whole thing is being disruptive," Shoto grits as his oldest brother slips silently through the doors, "I apologize for him—"

"No," you wave him off, laughing a little, "Don't. It's... nice to see you two together."

Shoto's expression is soft as he wanders a little closer. "It took time — and a lot of therapy — but we've all managed to come out the other side."

"That's great to hear, Shoto," you breathe, your eyes flitting across his face, "I'm really happy for you."

There's a long silence, then — and you can't help but ignore the roil of butterflies in your stomach. The eye contact is heavy with some unspoken thing, and both of your tongues are weighted by secrets-never-turned-confessions. 

It's like finally this dance you've been doing around one another for years breaks — and the two of you throw caution to the wind at the exact same moment. 

"Would you like to—"

"Are you free—"

Hesitant, slow grins bloom on both your faces.

"Dinner?" is all he manages after a sweet moment of soaking up your soft smile, "If you're available...?"

You make yourself available.

Yaoyorozu almost dies when you call her that night — winded from tearing through your entire wardrobe. You explained you had nothing to wear a-and you needed something nice, and you only have an hour to get ready, because Todoroki — yes, stop screaming, Todoroki — is picking you up at 8pm.

Little bro is nervous. Touya can tell. 

From his spot on the sofa, the white-haired ex-degenerate scoffs. Natsuo is digging around for some cufflinks in Shoto's dresser.

"Seriously, Sho'? A suit?" 

"It's a nice restaurant," his brother says tightly, adjusting the collar of the black button-down, "I booked the upstairs dining room for privacy." 

"Who the hell told you t' do that?" Touya quirks a skeptical brow.

"Father was the one who suggested it."

"...That old dog." 

Natsuo rolls his eyes at the exchange before throwing his hands as he emerges from the closet. "Do you have any links that aren't emblazoned with U.A. High School's crest?"

The ones in Natsuo's hands have his graduation year on them.

Shoto winces.

"Want me to ask dear ol' dog of a dad?" Touya snarks from the corner, his posture becoming less and less upright as he scrolls on his phone.

"Already did," comes the soft voice of Fuyumi; she's smiling, padding into Shoto's room with a velvet box, "He offered up his nicest pair. He also says not to screw it up with Insight. He likes her."

Of course, he likes her. You worked under Endeavor for a brief work-study period during your third year. Shoto remembers hearing grumbled praise over dinner one night about your talent for de-escalation.

"You told him who I was seeing?" Shoto asks incredulously, taking the box and working the cufflinks on. He's starting to feel exasperated.

Fuyumi nods, popping down beside Touya. 

"He asked. I'm not gonna lie to him."

"Did y' tell ma?" Touya rasps, peeking up over his phone to inspect Shoto's outfit. Not half bad, honestly. He looks good in all black. A man after his own heart, "M'sure she's gonna be real excited—"

"Yes," Shoto grumbles, "I called her earlier—"

"Chiba Prep is a really good school, y'know," Natsuo buts in as he tries to find a tie that matches Shoto's outfit. Ultimately, though, the middle brother decides against it and tosses the options over his shoulder, "They're, like, on the leading edge for quirk therapies."

"Hey, nerd? Quiet down. The big kids are gossiping," Touya shirks, turning back to Shoto, "What did mum say?" 

"She wants me to call her after—"

"One, you're gonna call mum the morning after," Touya raises a finger, "Because if you don't get laid, I'll be so fuckin' disap—"

Fuyumi slaps Touya's chest. He lets out a pained yelp at the solid smack.

"Uh, ow," he rubs his sternum. "An' two, take a deep breath. You look like you're gonna shit yourself. Those are my pants and they're expensive."

Shoto lets out a long breath. 

Fuyumi's smile is sweet like honey. "Aw, Sho'! It's gonna go great. You two have known each other for such a long time, and catching up is going to be amazing. Just be yourself! Confident and kind—"

"—Hold the door open for her, and pull her chair out," Natsuo adds as he adjusts Shoto's collar for him, "Car door, too—"

It's Touya's turn. He's dead serious. "—And do not chicken out on kissing her at the end of the night. I swear to god."

Easier said than done.

You never did go pro.

Those years of hardened battle instincts have lost their edge. You try to remind yourself this is just Shoto, not The Shoto — but you're a little lost in the whole celebrity of it all when he picks you up in a very nice, sporty little car with ENDVRplates. 

You answer the door and he forgets how to breathe.

He has flowers for you. They're blue and blooming and beautiful. 

Fuyumi's contribution. 

You settled then you were going to kiss him at the end of the night.

The restaurant is... nice. Really nice. The sort of nice you could never aspire to experience on your teacher's salary. Even the valet is a concept that has your head spinning. But, Shoto handles it all with cool ease. The entire time, his hand is settled on your lower back. 

It feels like you've been lit on fire.

You're glad Momo was able to create a dress fitting for the occasion. It's sleek and black. Comfortable, too. Not much can be said for your heels on that front, but it's fine. 

Somehow, Shoto managed to book the entire upper floor of this place in all its glimmering glory — it's just the two of you alone in a sea of tables. 

The waiter is pouring you a glass of the chef's suggested pairing of sake.

You thank him, smile, and take a sip as Shoto unbuttons his suit jacket and watches you. 

For a second, you're seventeen again.

Sero and Kirishima were always in cahoots when it came to parties back then — somehow, between the two of them, they always managed to smuggle enough booze onto campus to obliterate any semblance of promised sobriety from even the most stoic members of 1-A. 

You remember one night, after a lot of hounding, you finally gave in and joined a few of your classmates on the back lawn for a few drinks. 

A few beers turned into a cup or two of wine, and then another big gulp of whatever deranged jungle juice concoction Kaminiari managed to cook up. It tasted terrible, but you were too drunk to really care. Shoto was no better. He was nursing his fourth drink of the night — a rarity he was even drinking at all — and seemed completely fine with the way your arms brushed as the two of you sat close in the grass. 

He was always so nervous around you. Now, he just seemed... happy. 

"I can't believe there is only one week left until graduation."

Graduation day was the last time you saw him. 

Until this morning, that is. 

You smile into your drink. 

"What?" you ask when his eyes never leave your face.

His fingers twitch towards his own glass. Shoto blinks, then rolls his jaw. He was caught staring. He clears his throat, looking a bit shy. "Nothing."

"Nothing?" you press playfully, cocking your head to the side.

"You..." he starts, then bawks. You're stunning, and it's making it hard to even think straight. He thought these feelings might have mellowed out over the years but seeing you again has just reignited everything. He feels like a hormonal teenager again, "You look beautiful."

Your expression falters into something lovesick. You chew your lip. "You're not so bad yourself, Todoroki."

He manages a half-smile. "Touya had me worried the suit was a bit much."

The idea of Touya offering him advice on his outfit strikes a chord in your heart. It makes you smile even bigger than before. "Well, you can tell Touya that I like it. A lot."

You rake your eyes up and down him. On purpose.

He notices.

Shoto's face feels hot. 

He tries to shake the bone-deep want that has swept his entire body up in its grip, but it's difficult when every single word out of your mouth reminds him just how in love he was with you back in school. You explain, excitedly, why you chose to teach at Chiba Prefectural Prep and catch him up on where you've been living since graduating. He's pleased to learn you're still in the area, living in the city, and decidedly in love with the commute to the school. 

Shoto's always been a good listener — but you can see how much he's changed when he begins to speak about his career. He seems so much more sure of himself than he was all those years ago. It wasn't that he was... unsure... but, no. He was shy. Quiet.

Now, less so. 

It's adorable. 

Dinner comes and goes with conversation over sushi that is far too good for you to even process. It's easy talking to him. It was easy talking to Shoto back, then, too but... Things are different. You're both different. Not in a bad way, but in a way that feels like coming home. 

While you both wait outside for the valet, Shoto shrugs his jacket off and puts it over your shoulders without a single word. Suddenly, you're cradled in a warmth that's very Shoto — his cologne clings to the collar and you bury yourself a little deeper into it. 

Shyly, you step closer and steal his hand. It's calloused and warm. He laced his fingers with yours as if practiced. You bite back a grin. You give his hand a little squeeze when you spot the car coming around the corner.

His silence is calming — and he squeezes your hand back. When you look up at him, you realize he's already looking at you. 

His face is close. It's so... intimate. Very. Nearly better than a kiss. 

But, you've wanted to kiss Shoto Todoroki since you were seventeen. 

The valet driver interrupts the moment with a respectful call of Shoto's name and offers the keys with a shake of the hand. With a little bit of hesitancy, Shoto remembers the thing Natsuo said — the car door, too — and moves around the passenger side to open the door for you. 

It's sweet.

Really sweet. 

The car ride back to your apartment is punctuated with easy conversation — you ask him about Bakugo and Midorya, and you're pleased to hear they're both doing well. He asks about Momo, and if you still keep in touch with Mina and Ochaco. He smiles to himself when you admit you did call Momo for help with an outfit. 

"She did a beautiful job," Shoto breathes, a palm moving from the gear shift to brush over the dress' fabric on your thigh.

His hand settles there. 

Your stomach does a flip. 

You chew your lip, swallow down a sudden burst of nerves, and let your hand rest over his. You squeeze it. Shoto tries to focus on the road. His gaze drifts for a moment at a red light, his heterochromatic eyes dancing across your figure. 

Keep it together. 

He isn't seventeen.

He's twenty-five. He's a Professional Hero. One of the Top Ten in all of Japan. He's more than capable of keeping it together in the face of physical touch from the woman he's dreamed about for years. 

...Right?

Green light.

His hand is still on your thigh when he pulls up to your apartment. 

The touch is relinquished in favor of putting the sports car in park. 

It makes your chest ache.

Shoto swallows thickly.

Do not chicken out on kissing her at the end of the night.

He'll never forgive himself. But, admittedly, he's bad at this. He's not good at reading body language, or even knowing himself enough to realize he looks mildly terrified as you blink up at him in the passenger's seat. His heart is hammering a mile a minute.

What if you don't want to kiss him?

When would he even kiss you? Now? Or at the door?

Why does he feel like he's going to die?

"This was really... Shoto, are you okay?" you ask as you unbuckle your seatbelt; you pause, your brows knitting tightly. 

"What?" he asks, blinking back to the present moment. The look of fear disappears, "Sorry. Yes. I'm fine."

You're working his jacket off your shoulders, gently leaning to fold it neatly in your lap. Your voice dips low, into something playful. "You didn't look fine..."

"I—" Shoto clamps his mouth shut as he leans an elbow on the center console, "Sorry. I suppose I'm just nervous."

"Nervous?" you grin, a little giggle punctuating your words as you wriggle in the red, leather seat, "Why?"

Your expression makes his expression crack. He ducks his head as he huffs out a laugh. You continue to egg him on via expression alone. "I... Stop it."

"Stop what?" you push some more, your back pressed to the door as you face him in the car, "You're the one being weird—"

"I'm not being weird—"

"Then what's wrong, Shoto?" you tease in a sing-song voice.

"I'm nervous because I want to kiss you."

His words are punctuated by a slow look that takes in every inch of your face. Butterfly wings kiss your stomach walls. And your knees. You feel a little tremble in your chest. 

It feels like someone has sucker punched you square in the sternum. Shoto's no better. He isn't entirely sure what the expression on your face means. Is that... good? Are you happy?

Your voice is a little quieter now. You duck your head and fiddle with his suit jacket as you lean back against the seat, a little closer now. 

"You don't need to be."

Shoto's breath catches at that.

So, he makes his move.

His hand comes first — his calloused palm settles nicely against your face, his thumb brushing your cheekbone as his pointer finger brushes the underside of your jaw. Shoto is slow. Methodical. It's like he's trying to ground himself in the moment. 

Truth be told, he thinks he might be blacking out.

Your eyes flit up his wrist — a dark leather band around his wrist with an expensive watch face, a dark dress shirt with glimmering cufflinks, strong arms and a broad chest, and you can see the dip of his collarbone where the top two buttons of his shirt remain undone. 

He looks so damn handsome with his sharp jaw, pretty eyes, and his trademark white and crimson hair. Even his scar is beautiful. 

The touch pulls you in like he's got his own personal orbit.  

Your elbows are braced along the center console, your eyes flicking across his face as his fingers continue to brush along the soft expanse of your cheek. You wring your fingers together. 

Then, his eyes stick to your lips.

"Can I kiss you?" he whispers, his breath fanning across your face. 

You never did go pro.

But, Shoto did. 

It shows. 

Because, at this moment, all you can do is nod feebly before you're swept into the sort of kiss people go to war for. It's the sort of kiss that sticks to your ribs, that feels like warm, fresh food. It's the sort of kiss that would drive you to the brink, that would make you nod and agree sure, let's get married and have three kids, let's name one after your father, and paint the house blue like your mother's favorite flower—

His mouth is eager, but not in an overbearing way. It's gentle. Slow. As if he needs to remind himself this is real and not some midnight fiction that leaves him aching and alone. Shoto reminds himself to be tepid, pliable, and easy, which is easier said than done when somewhere deep inside of him there's a seventeen-year-old screaming in victory. 

It's better than anything he could have ever imagined. 

And then you whimper. 

It's a sound tied between bliss and relief and it's muttered against his mouth as you lean in and let your fingers brush the fabric of his dress shirt. The tips of your fingers brush his abdomen and he flexes, the feeling foreign and warm. It warrants his other hand to drift to your face and you break for a breath; he doesn't care that there's lipstick smeared across his mouth. He's kissing you again — this time a little bit more feverish, a little bit more aching. 

You melt against him, this time your hands trembling to grip his wrists.

He needs to slow down.

He is not having sex with you in his father's car.

That's shameless.

He needs to slow down.

He has to, or he'll lose himself in this and he refuses to fuck this up. 

Shoto's breath is ragged when he finally peels himself away, his lip parted and eyes half-lidded. His grip on your face is still so soft, so gentle. It's very him. 

You're glad you didn't do this when you were seventeen.

It would have permanently altered your brain chemistry, you're sure of it. How could you ever kiss someone else again after that? 

He's rubbing your cheek with his thumb. You swallow, and try to level out your breathing. It's hard when he's still so close, when he's so... perfect. 

"I've wanted to do that," he murmurs against your cheek, "Since our last year at Yuei."

A well-kissed smile breaks across your face. You reel back, your nose wrinkling as you shake your head in disbelief. Shoto is smiling. A real smile. The sort that's so rare you can count on one hand the amount of times you've ever seen it in person. 

"Are you serious?"

"Very," he says, chastely pressing another to your other cheek as he leans back.

"Me too," you admit shyly, "Can we... do it again sometime?"

Shoto's eyes widen incrementally. Then, his smile eases back onto his face. 

"Are you free this weekend?"

"I can be," you reply easily with a honeyed look, "And I will be. For you."

"I get off patrol on Saturday around seven," he explains before asking timidly, "We could... do dinner again?"

"Works for me," you breathe as you move for the handle of the car door, "After all, I never went Pro. Weekends are free."

Shoto scoffs. 

Then, as you open the door and swing a leg out:

"Oh, and tell Touya I thought the suit sexy."

Shoto's laugh is dry. You leave his jacket on the seat and scurry into your apartment with a lovesick wave. He swears he sees the silhouette of a familiar ponytail greet you at the door, but he doesn't dwell on it. He waits until you're inside and the lights to the front door are shut off.

Then it hits him. He has another date with you this weekend. 

Not so seventeen anymore, Shoto Todoroki. 

[rubys-domain]

i cannot even begin to express my disappointment at how chongyun's likeness is used as cover art for the combat event. i know it makes sense, but i don't like it.

[spider-stark]

SWORN RIVALS

Benjicot Blackwood x Bracken!Reader

Summary - Taking up sparring with your sworn rival is likely never a good idea.

Warnings - barely edited, blood, implied fighting, suggestive language but no real smut, likely ooc given that the episode hasn't even aired yet lmao

Word Count - 1.1k

!MINORS DNI!

// masterlist // send me your thoughts // comments & reblogs appreciated! //

Pain splinters throughout your hand as your knuckles collide with his jaw. He stumbles backwards—just barely managing to keep himself from falling right onto his ass. 

“You fight like a girl,” you jeer, purposefully antagonizing him. “Though I suppose that’s to be expected of a Blackwood.” 

A raspy laugh rumbles through Benjicot Blackwood’s chest—a bitter, deep sound that sets your toes curling. 

“You’ve got quite a mouth on you.” Forcing his chin high, he flashes his crimson-stained teeth in a wry grin, blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth. He muses, “But perhaps we should put it to better use, don’t you think?” 

You cut your eyes at the bawdy implication. “You’re disgusting, Ben.” 

Another chuckle as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, inadvertently smearing blood along his bottom lip. The sight is entrancing—in a morbid sort of way. It glistens like pomegranate juice and, for a mere breath, you wonder if it would taste half as sweet. 

“C’mon!” Ben’s teasing tone slices through your thoughts, forcing some sense back into you. “Don’t act like you’ve never thought of it before,” he says, waving a hand between you both, “the two of us–” 

You don’t let him finish his sentence, cutting him off with a sharp glare. “I haven’t,” you practically snarl, taking a half-step towards him. “And you shouldn’t either,” you add, “I’d much prefer to be left out of your…" you blow out an exasperated breath, "depraved fantasies!” 

“Oh, but you are my depraved fantasies, sweetheart.” Ben’s grin widens as you groan, shaking your head at him. “You're also a liar, Bracken,” he adds, “and a shitty one, at that!” 

“You can believe whatever you want, Blackwood—but that won't make it true.” 

“Just admit it,” he continues. Swinging one foot forward, he takes a lazy step towards you—then another. “That’s why you train with me, isn’t it? ‘Cause you’re so desperate for someone to put you in your place—and none of those pansies along the Red Fork are fit for the task, are they?” 

You grit your teeth, knowing that his words aren’t entirely false. 

Training with Ben hadn’t necessarily been a purposeful decision. It was something that just sort of happened. Yet, in spite of the rivalry between your families, you’re willing to admit that you do prefer training with him over the Tully or Roote boys. 

He fought you like a true opponent—unlike the others, who felt the need to pull their punches or slow their own strikes, forever treating you like a helpless maiden rather than an equal. 

In many ways, you found Ben to be more tolerable than any other boy in the Riverlands, anyway. He was fierce and tough and undeniably skilled with both blade and fists, making him your ideal sparring partner. 

You still despise him, though—if only because that is what’s expected of you by your father, the Head of House Bracken. 

“Big talk from the boy who hasn’t gotten a single hit in today,” you smugly remind him. “Perhaps if you spent as much time training as you do thinking with your cock, you might actually stand a chance at victory, Benji.” 

Less than a foot-or-so of space separates the two of you when he finally stops, his grin souring like rotted fruit. 

“Don’t call me that,” he chides, his bottom lip jutting slightly. Your brow furrows, trying to discern if he’s pouting or if it’s simply swelling from when you hit him. “Besides,” Ben continues, “have you ever considered that maybe I’m just going easy on you?” 

You don’t buy his weak attempt at goading you—though you do entertain it, asking, “And why would you do that?” 

His shoulder lifts into a languid shrug. “Maybe I like it when you push me around,” he drawls, teasing. 

Another step and he’s towering over you, his chest mere inches from yours. His scent—a blend of leather and rich sandalwood—floods your nostrils, stirring your senses and leaving you dizzy. 

“Although,” Ben’s smirk returns, laden with his usual mischief, “I think I’d like you even more if you were on your knees-” 

A scoff rips from your throat, cutting him off with a rough swat to his chest. “Oh, go fuck yourself, Blackwood!” 

“Only if you’ll watch, Bracken,” he croons, mocking you. 

Every inch of your body is suddenly humming to life, an unrelenting blaze of rage—or was it desire?—setting your nerves alight. Before you can muster a response, a comeback, his fingers have closed around one of your wrists. 

“Go on,” Ben murmurs, his voice tantalizingly low. Your breath hitches as he presses your hand to his chest, feeling his pulse beat beneath your palm. “Hit me,” he dares, louder now. “Push me.” 

You don’t speak—don’t move, as those storm-cloud eyes dip once again. “Fucking do it—” 

You cut him off, fingers curling around the scarlet fabric of his tunic—you should kill him for being so crude, for acting so utterly lascivious! 

And yet, despite all logic and reason, you tug him closer. Pulling him down to your level in one swift motion, crashing your lips together in a kiss that is anything but soft. 

On instinct, your other hand slips to the back of his neck, tangling your fingers in soft, brown hair. You feel his heartbeat stutter beneath your fist, still gripping his tunic. For no more than a breath, you worry you’ve fucked this whole thing up. 

This is wrong! You scream at yourself. Wrong wrong wrong! 

But then he moves—hooking an arm around your waist, his nails sinking into your hip in an effort to bring you closer—and you loathe just how right this feels. 

Your legs tremble as his tongue slides along your lower lip, a soft moan spilling into his mouth. You feel him grin against you—can taste the blood on his lips, the bitter sweetness dancing on your tongue as he utters, “Eager, are we?” 

Tightening your grip on his hair, he hiss slips from his teeth. “Shut up.” 

He obliges—his mouth drifting from your lips to your jaw, leaving a bloody trail of kisses in his wake. You try not to think as he finally reaches your neck, earning a soft whine as he nips at your flesh. You try to forget who he is—that you’re supposed to hate him—as he shoves his leg between yours, offering you the very friction you so desperately desired. 

“This changes nothing, Benji,” you pant. 

He bristles at the nickname, letting his teeth sink deeper into your flesh, a deep bruise already blooming along your neck. “Sure." His own breathing is frantic and uneven as he rasps, “Whatever you say..” 

Your hand falls from his chest to his breeches, fingers already fumbling with the laces when you choke out, “I still think you’re disgusting, Blackwood.”

His own touch disappears beneath your tunic, fingertips trailing along every inch of your skin until his palms finally skim along your bare breasts. He gives one a rough squeeze before flashing that stupid, bloody grin of his. 

“And you’re still a liar, Bracken.”

a/n - writing fan fic for a character that hasn't even appeared on screen yet is wild. (hbo, this better be bloody ben or else I'll riot because this is perfect casting). anyway, I don't wanna be held accountable for how terrible, short, and rushed this is (I was bored and didn't feel like putting more effort into this than necessary rn) OR how wildly ooc this will likely prove to be come Sunday.

also---turns out that writing without actually knowing the character is hard! who'd have thunk, am I right?