#I usually don’t have to think much about others will see it

[awrkive]

Wer is grumpy jk! We badly need it 😫😭

summary: you and jungkook are getting closer, moving forward – but to where, exactly? what does that entail for your relationship? 

w/c: 3.3k

note: this is for all the girlies who asked for part 2 for this drabble. nothing but fluff in here ): ive been thinking abt college jk lately and i lowkey like this grumpy!jk guy… basically this takes place two months after the first drabble u may read this amm for grumpy!jk for a brief bg on what their relationship has become before u go read this parr. anyway the ending is a bit diabolical and im saying sorry in advance

also pls listen to come here by kath bloom, its literally so them 😮‍💨😖

It’s almost natural the way Jungkook immediately slings his backpack on one shoulder, heads straight out of the lecture hall, and starts the almost ten-minute walk from his department building to yours the moment his last class for the day was dismissed. 

He waits outside by the hallway along the lecture room, scrolling through his phone mindlessly, knowing that any minute now you’ll be coming out of the door. 

And just as a slew of students’ chattering becomes louder, their heavy footsteps coming out from the hall, Jungkook instantly spots you; talking to a friend animatedly – Joy, maybe? – before you look to the other side and finally see him. 

“Jungkook!” You exclaim with excitement, smiling up at him and even doing a little wave. Jungkook watches as you turn to your friend. “Sorry, I gotta go. Zoom meeting at five, right?” He hears you say before she nods, bidding your goodbyes to each other before she goes in the opposite direction while you saunter towards him with that usual dashing grin on your face. 

Jungkook meets you halfway, lips curling up slightly at your enthusiastic greeting. Even more so when you don’t fight off the way he goes for your tote bag, taking it off your shoulder and wearing it on his own, the weight not adding that much to his own bag perched on his back. 

He remembers the first time he tried to do it (awkwardly, might he add), and you vehemently refused. But Jungkook can be persistent sometimes when he wants to, and eventually you gave up trying to resist.

Currently, as you walk along the hallway out of your building, standing close together, Jungkook tries not to think too much about how easy this feels. Like it’s normal the way you immediately interlock your arm around his own, skipping a little bit upon your walk as you begin speaking.

“You really did cut your hair.” You marvel at him when he looks down at you. And he can’t help it; the blood rushing to his cheeks and certainly on his ears. 

“I sent you a picture.” He simply says. It was yesterday. He originally went to his barber for just a trim but he remembers you saying something about a particular actor’s haircut… and look, it’s not like he was trying to look like that man but it may have influenced the decision a little bit… 

Anyway, he thinks it looks okay on him. He trusts his barber and Hoseok said it suits him. From your response, you also said it looks nice. 

And you tell him so. “I like it! You look so good. Especially with this frame!” You point to his eyeglasses, smiling up at him. “I was thinking you were just sending me a random picture last night.” 

Jungkook chuckles. “I wasn't, and uh, thank you.”

“You're welcome. Anyway,” you say, “Did you wait for long earlier? Sorry ‘bout that. Prof. Shin had to extend a little bit ‘cause there were a lot of questions about our new project.” 

“You have a new project?”

“Yeah, but nothing really heavy. Just a hotel lobby interior design. We got a week and it’s a paired task thing, that’s why you saw me with Joy earlier—”

He sees a flock of students ahead huddling by your side of the pathwalk, and because you have a tendency to not really pay that much attention to your surroundings, he takes you by the waist slightly to avoid bumping with them, causing you to stumble closer to him. 

You crane your neck to look behind you for a moment, gaze falling back up to Jungkook with widened eyes. “Sorry.” you say with a jutted lip and a little frown. 

“It’s okay.” Jungkook says with a reassuring smile. He means it. He likes being close like this and if you don’t watch your surroundings, he’ll just do it for you. He doesn’t mind. 

You grin. “Anyway… I was saying, it’s a hotel interior. But! The thing is, it’s a themed hotel, which I’m really excited about ‘cause I’m tired of designing contemporary, luxury ones. They always tend to be so redundant.” 

Jungkook nods. “I think so too. What’s the themed hotel about?” 

“Have you heard of a film called Metropolis?” He shakes his head. You nod at that. “Well, yeah, me neither. At least a week ago. Prof gave it to us as an assignment and it’s a silent film from the ‘20s. A sci-fi tale, so very futuristic – at least for that time. So that’s the theme of the hotel, right, and Joy and I immediately thought of art deco.” 

Jungkook intently listens as you go on about your initial ideas, and he doesn’t even have to worry about the terms he doesn’t understand because you always take time to explain it to him in layman’s. It’s funny, really, because ever since he’s learned that you study interior design and started to talk to him about it, he found himself taking interest in it as well. Two months ago, he couldn't have given a single care about a couple named Charles and Ray Eames and their weird chair called La Chaise, but here he is, anyway.

Maybe it’s because of the way you so passionately talk about it. Your zeal oozes out so much when it comes up as the topic of conversation, and there’s always been something about you that pulls people right in. And Jungkook’s at peace with himself now that he’s just one of those people. 

He’s willing to be pulled right in, anyway. You don’t exactly make it hard to. 

And Jungkook finds that the newfound dynamic between you two isn’t… so bad. He finds excitement at the prospect of seeing you after his classes are concluded, going to Fro-yo for a quick snack because you’re obsessed with it, and studying together at his place later in the day.

A lot of people would say he’s making up for all the times he’s ignored you. The times when he pretended to not care about you. The times when he was just unprovokedly mean and treated you the way he regrets now. And sure, it may have started that way. Ever since your Environmental Science project was finished and the term was over, Jungkook started to feel like he couldn’t go back to the life where you weren’t within his perimeter. Couldn’t imagine you both being back to – practically – regular strangers, so he just… opened up to you more.

He shares his own stories now. Tells you about his day after you do so, and invites you to Fro-yo and other cafes and restaurants around campus whenever your schedules align. 

And maybe at first it was, indeed, because he was trying to make up for his past behavior – but that may have only been what he convinced himself of for the first few weeks. When the week stretched into months and the months suddenly involved you doing sleepovers at his place whenever his roommate, Hoseok, is not around, Jungkook is starting to question himself if this is all still about simply making it up to you. 

Because frankly, he’s starting to feel like it's a little more than that.

He’s not just buying you frozen yogurt and helping you with any assignment (that requires his silly and minuscule math and science expertise) and letting you borrow and keep his hoodies and shirts whenever you sleep over because he’s trying to make up for the past – he’s doing all of these because he genuinely enjoys your company and would like to do more for you… with you… to you… and just… just more. 

He wants more with you. 

And every single day is a daunting battle for his internal mullings. 

Because he knows he’s been stupid all this time not to realize right away that he’s got romantic feelings for you. That his confusion when it comes to you didn't come from the reason that you were extremely extroverted and had way too much energy – it was that those things made him like you and his little heart and brain couldn’t comprehend any of it the way he can easily wrap his head around math equations and concepts.

But he keeps himself on the sidelines. Thinks about keeping himself there until he’s sure of what you truly think about. 

You’re always nice to him. But you’re kind of nice to everybody… so that gets him a little twisted.

On Monday, when you were supposed to hang out – when you usually sleep over at his place, you bailed on him to study with Jae, as per Taehyung's words, your mutual friend.

He just can’t tell if the way you treat him is different to the way you treat everyone else, and that’s what’s been on his mind lately. 

“Oh, Kookie,” you say as soon as Jungkook takes out his keys, going for his keyfob when you arrive at the parking area. He looks at you in question, completely ignoring the way his heart flutters a little at the nickname. He kind of hates it, thinks it's too childish when other people call him that – but with you it sounds so much like an endearment, so he doesn't protest. You press your lips into a thin line before you say, “I can’t go to Fro-yo today. Joy and I agreed to have a zoom meeting later to start conceptualizing.” 

“Oh,” Jungkook blinks. “Rain check?” 

You pout. “Yeah.” 

“You can do it at my place? Hoseok’s doing an all-nighter with his study group, so he won’t be there ‘til the morning.”

“But I didn’t bring my laptop today.”

With furrowed brows, Jungkook steps closer to you. “It’s alright. We can drive to your place, get your laptop then go to mine,” he smiles. “Sleepover?” 

Jungkook doesn’t want to toot his own horn but he may have seen your face light up at that. But it comes off easily and he begins to worry.

“I want to, but I don’t want to impose.” You say. 

Instantly, Jungkook’s forehead creases. “You won’t be imposing.” When he sees that you’re about to decline again, he lets out a, “Please?” 

At that, you stop. You stare at him for a moment. 

“Uh…” you trail off. “You sure? Are you not busy tonight?”

He shakes his head. “I’ll probably start on an assignment so we can be both busy–” you nudge his arm at that, laughing. “– but other than that, no. I’ll cook us something. Or do you want to get take-out instead?” 

“I’d really, really appreciate your black bean noodles tonight.” You muse, looking at him like he holds the stars in the sky. With you gazing up at him like that, how can he say no?

“I think we have the ingredients in the fridge. Black bean noodles it is, then.” Jungkook says before you’re muffling your own squeal in your excitement, saying your little delighted “thank you” when Jungkook ushers you in the passenger seat after opening it for you. 

He rounds the car before he settles on his side, and when he starts the engine, he can’t help but smile slightly at the way you lean comfortably on your seat, as if you’re so used to being in his car – which you are.

And Jungkook finds he likes that. He likes you that way; being used to being around him. 

“You’re done?” Jungkook looks up from his computer, seeing you doing some arm stretches and leaning into his gaming chair to do it on your neck as well. 

“Yep.” 

“Then come here already.” He shuts his laptop close, places it on the bedside table, and pats the space on the mattress next to him. 

It’s nearly 10pm and your zoom meeting with Joy went for nearly 4 hours. You got on it immediately after you two ate your dinner, and like clockwork, asked to borrow one of Jungkook’s shirts because your top was getting a little too uncomfortable on your body. You’ve both already showered – separately, of course – and that’s one of the many things that Jungkook smiles about when he enters his bathroom sometimes. Because the fact that you shower in his bathroom means your essentials are slowly making a space for themselves in his own place; the yellow cup holder of your toothbrush sits next to his blue one, and a bottle of your moisturizer is also in his lavatory cabinet. 

“‘M so tired” You let yourself fall on the mattress, bouncing a little on it face down, sprawling across the bed like some starfish, your other hand landing on Jungkook’s abdomen. 

“Meeting went well?” Jungkook asks, and he’s a little disappointed when you remove an arm on him, but that’s okay, because soon you’re leaning sidewards to properly look at him and it makes him smile to see you so cozy like this. Barefaced and in his shirt. 

“Yeah, we got some work done,” You say. Jungkook watches as you try to get comfortable on your side of the bed. “I think I’m sleepy now.” 

“Yeah?” He follows after you, and he doesn’t hide his huge smile when you go and turn your back to him immediately after he slides his arm under your neck, spooning you from behind. Snuggling closer to him, Jungkook wraps his other arm around your waist and lets out a contented sigh against the back of your head. “My first class is at one thirty pm tomorrow.” 

“I have one at eight am. Then the next one is at ten.” 

“Tough.” 

“I know… I wish I didn’t enlist in morning classes.” 

He chuckles, closing his eyes as he starts to feel that familiar lull of sleep dancing behind his eyes. But truth be told, he doesn’t want to give into that just yet.

“You were with Jae on Monday?” He asks, carefully treading through the subject. It’s Thursday now. It's not like Jungkook’s a jealous guy… it just kind of threw him off a little, because you didn’t tell him you were with Jae. 

“Uh… yeah?” Jungkook feels you freezing in his arms. “How’d you know?” 

“Taehyung told me.” 

“Oh.” He can practically hear the wince. “He has such a big mouth.” You say drily. 

That earns you a laugh from Jungkook. But he decides to take down the jokes for a more honest and open conversation with you tonight. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” It’s not accusatory. It’s soft and gentle, the way he asks it, with his thumb rubbing the exposed skin of your hip due to the hem of your – his – shirt riding up. 

Your answer takes awhile. 

“I was… getting help with estimates.” 

“... Okay,” Jungkook tightens his hold around you, growing confused. “But I’m really good with estimates. I could’ve helped you.” It was easy math for him. And you never shied away from asking him for help before… why now?

“Well, he offered.” 

Jungkook’s brows crease deeper. “That’s not…" he trails off, then continues, "You know you can ask me for anything, right? Jae’s not even on the dean's list. How’d you know he’s teaching you the right stuff?”  

Silence hangs in the air before Jungkook hears your laughter. Shuffling in his arms, Jungkook loosens his hold around you to let you turn to him. When he sees your face, there's a huge grin on it.

“He’s not even on the dean’s list?” You sound intrigued.

Jungkook assumed you were curiously speaking, and so he nods, looking into your eyes seriously. “He isn’t. Look, I’m not saying–” when he notices your smile only getting wider by the second, he realizes you’re just trying to fuck with him, so Jungkook cuts himself off, letting out a sigh. “I’m sorry. I sound like an asshole.”

You scoot closer until both the front of your bodies are stuck. Jungkook tries not to think too much whether you’re wearing a bra underneath his shirt or not. 

You shake your head. “Not really. I believe you’re way smarter than him.” 

“Then why come to him and not me?” 

You stare at him for a moment, then you let out a heavy breath. “I just feel like you’re doing so many things for me nowadays. You were also really busy on Monday– don’t deny it–” you say before he opens his mouth to oppose that. He shuts his lips close, listening to you go on instead. “– and I was just being considerate. Jae offered because we saw and sat next to each other at the library, and I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to disturb you.” 

Jungkook blinks, processing your words. After a pregnant pause, he slowly nods, still dumbstruck. 

“Ah… okay. I understand.” he says, embarrassment slowly filling his system. 

You smile at him. Playfully. “Sorry for asking help from someone who’s not on the dean’s list.” Jungkook drops his expression into a poker face at that, which makes you laugh even more. You nibble on your bottom lip before you stretch your hand to his cheek and pinch it. He doesn’t bother dodging your hand. With a giggle, you say, “Sorry, sorry. That was just so funny. You’re so funny without even trying sometimes, you know?” 

“Not really.” Jungkook says and you can tell the tell-tale signs of his grumpiness starting to kick in.

What he doesn’t expect is the way you suddenly squeal and launch yourself on top of him, causing him to lie fully on his back with you sprawled all over his body, hugging him tight and burying your face in his chest. 

“You’re so cuddly and warm. Can we stay like this for awhile?” You break away from his chest and look at him from a low angle. 

Jungkook meets your gaze. 

Sure, you’ve been cuddling (platonically) all these past few months – but they never went to this length. And he’s not sure what the difference is, anyway – just that you’re much closer like this and Jungkook can feel everything. Still, that doesn’t deter him from wrapping his arms around your waist, slightly locking you in the position. Quite frankly, he doesn’t even want you to move. 

“Alright.” Is his simple answer. Not like he needed to think about it.

“I’ll sleep now, okay?” But you don’t wait for his response before you lay on his chest again with your cheek pressed on his hoodie.

Because the moment just feels right somehow, Jungkook lets his hand wander on your head. Then slowly, he lets his fingers comb through the strands of your hair, tentatively at first, lest you didn’t want him touching you or something like that – but once he hears a sound akin to a purr coming from you, he continues and finds himself getting comforted by the action as well. 

“The Jae thing really bothered you?” You ask suddenly, not breaking away from the position you’ve assumed on top of his body. But your words are slightly slurred in the haze of sleep.

Jungkook hums. “Yes.” 

“Sorry for not telling you myself.” 

“It’s okay,” Jungkook reassures you. His gaze falls to the ceiling, hand still caressing your hair. The surface is empty, and there’s not really much going on. Meanwhile, in your own bedroom, you have those glow in the dark star stickers pasted on your white ceiling. He’s never slept over there, but he thinks it would be nice to lay under your makeshift galaxy with your homely scent surrounding the two of you. “Are you not gonna ask why I was bothered?” He says after a beat. 

“I was gonna. But I think I know.” You answer, and Jungkook doesn’t expect that one bit.

He stops his ministrations on your hair, and it’s obvious that you’re about to question it when you suddenly peel your face away from his chest again. 

When you do, Jungkook meets your gaze and with a leveled tone, he asks the question he’s been mulling about for the past two months.

“__, what are we?” 

[kateschi]

through the cold, with you

synopsis: amid the biting cold of patrol, katsuki finds his own way to keep you warm.

pairing: timeskip!bakugou katsuki x f!reader

⊹ ࣪ ˖ notes: was listening to a song and it went "i would burn my words to warm you up" and i want that kinda devotion tbh

the night air is sharp, biting at your skin as you walk through the quiet streets on patrol. the chill settles into your bones, making your fingers stiff and your nose go numb.

you pull your jacket tighter, but it feels like the cold is winning, no matter what you do.

beside you, katsuki strides ahead, his steps purposeful and his posture as commanding as ever. he doesn’t seem bothered by the weather at all.

you try to shake off the discomfort, but the cold is relentless, seeping through your clothes and making it harder to focus.

you force your steps to keep in line with his, but your movements are slower now. every breath feels like it could be your last.

he doesn’t even notice. or so you think.

another few minutes pass, and you feel your teeth start to chatter.

you glance over at katsuki, his fiery gaze locked straight ahead, his usual scowl firmly in place. h

e’s always been the type to push through anything—cold, pain, exhaustion—and now, it feels like the wind is just another enemy to him.

you, on the other hand, are starting to feel the weight of it all.

just as you’re about to speak up, to mention that you’re starting to freeze, katsuki stops walking without warning. his shoulders tense, and you can hear his breath cut through the air.

you blink in confusion as he turns to face you, his eyes narrowing slightly as they sweep over your figure, taking in the subtle signs of discomfort you hadn’t voiced aloud.

“you good?” he asks, voice still rough but softer than usual. his eyes linger on you for a moment, like he’s waiting for you to admit something, to ask for help.

but he doesn’t push.

you hesitate. he’s been protective of you since you first got together, but there’s a difference between that and actually asking for help.

you try to brush it off, giving him a small smile. “yeah, just a little cold. I’ll be fine.”

katsuki eyes you skeptically. “bullshit.”

you don’t have time to react before he steps toward you. before you even realize what’s happening, his hand is reaching for the collar of your coat.

his fingers brush against your skin as he unzips your jacket without a word, then pulls off the heavy scarf wrapped around his neck.

you open your mouth to protest, but before you can say anything, katsuki is already wrapping it around you, tightening it just enough to offer some protection against the cold.

you blink at him, confused. “katsuki, what—”

“shut up,” he mutters, cutting you off. he adjusts the scarf so it fits snugly around your neck, tucking the ends in carefully. “you’re freezing, and I’m not having you catch a cold.”

he steps back, his hand brushing against your shoulder as he assesses his work.

then, without another word, he reaches into his bag and pulls out a thermos—when the hell did he put that in? “here,” he says gruffly, holding it out toward you.

you take it from him, still caught in the bewilderment of what just happened. the warm liquid inside is a welcome relief to your frozen fingers as you take a sip.

katsuki watches you for a moment, his posture relaxed but his gaze sharp. it’s like he’s silently making sure you’re okay, his watchful eyes never leaving you.

“better?” he asks, his tone a bit soft. there’s something protective in his voice, the kind of thing you never used to hear from him. you take another sip of the drink, nodding.

“yeah, much better. thanks.”

he huffs, his lips twitching in that small, familiar smirk that only you get to see. “you better be, or I’ll drag you back home and shove you under a heater myself.”

you laugh, the sound warmer than it’s been in the last hour. his eyes soften for a second, and for a moment, you swear you catch a flicker of something affectionate in them before it’s gone.

it’s like he doesn’t want to make a big deal out of it, but there’s no mistaking the care he’s showing.

you glance up at him as the silence stretches, a little unsure of what to say next. but he’s already taking a step forward again, his body language a silent invitation for you to follow.

“come on,” he says, his voice commanding as ever. “let’s get this patrol over with.”

you start walking beside him again, feeling the warmth of the scarf wrap around your neck like a promise.

the cold is still there, but it’s manageable now. it’s bearable. and, somehow, his presence seems to push it away, too.

you can feel the heat from his side, the way his body radiates strength, and the knowledge that he’s always looking out for you, even when he doesn’t say it out loud.

as you walk beside him, you try to ignore the soft smile that’s tugging at the corners of your lips.

he might act like he doesn’t care much for these things—gestures of affection, quiet acts of love—but he shows it in his own way. and, in the end, that’s all that matters.

katsuki steps forward again, his arm sliding around your waist and pulling you into his chest with surprising force.

“stop shivering, damn it,” he mutters, the rough edge in his voice doing nothing to hide the concern underneath. his body heat surrounds you as he keeps you pressed close, his hand firm against your back.

you stiffen for a moment, unsure of how to respond to the sudden proximity, but his warmth is undeniable. your body relaxes against his, letting the heat from him seep into you.

there’s something comforting in the way he holds you, like he’s willing to bear all the cold, so you don’t have to.

you tilt your head up slightly, just enough to meet his gaze, which is softer than usual. his face is still serious, but you can see the care in his eyes, the way he’s watching you closely.

for a second, the two of you just stand there, his arms wrapped around you, your body pressed against his.

“and—uh you’re welcome,” he says, so quietly you almost don’t hear him.

his gaze softens, just slightly, before he turns back and starts walking again, already heading toward the next stretch of their patrol.

a grin makes its way up your face, and it makes your husband blush furiously and press a firm kiss on the top of your head. he is trying to hide—you know that much.

kofi — navigation — masterlist

do not copy, translate, or plagarize

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Forbidden Fruit.

That’s the thing about Declan - he always gets what he wants. It might be wrong… but it feels so right.

declan o’hara x female reader

warnings - smut. cursing. use of the c word. age gap. cheating. declan’s filthy mouth needs its own warning.

word count - 2.3k

authors note - that man is a munch and I cannot be convinced otherwise. my crush on aidan turner has returned tenfold and i’m about to make it everyone’s problem. read declan’s dialogue in that gorgeous irish accent of his for the full experience.

masterlist. inbox.

You’ve fake laughed so much this afternoon that you can’t remember what your real one sounds like.

Finally breaking away from a conversation with Freddie’s wife, you swan across the garden in your sundress towards the food and drink table. You absentmindedly pick at the strawberries, hoping and praying that no one bothers you for a moment. All you need is a minute to yourself, away from all of these faux smiles and boastful exchanges.

Reaching towards a raspberry, you feel fingertips ghosting across your back quickly.

“Y’alright?”

You’d recognise that voice anywhere, of course, and not just because he’s the only Irish man in The Cotswolds.

“Bored out of my mind, actually.”

“You’d never know.”

“I’m a good actress, these days. I’ve done one too many of these stupid garden parties.”

He chuckles all genuine and honeyed, and you’d be lying if you said the sound didn’t settle warmly in your bones.

“Whatcha doing tonight?”

He’s keeping his voice low, inconspicuous. You’ve both turned so you’re looking out over the garden, backs to the table, watching the crowds of people and their gossiping. To anyone else, it looks like an innocent conversation between two acquaintances. They can’t see his hand playing with the hem of your dress behind you, or the way his fingers keep brushing the backs of your thighs, sending shivers down your spine.

“My boyfriend is coming over. You know that.”

“What time?”

You roll your eyes but answer anyway.

“Nine.”

“So what I’m hearing… is that you’re available from whenever this crap finishes until then?”

“That’s a stupid idea.”

“You usually love my stupid ideas.”

“Well maybe I’m trying to be smarter.”

He laughs with his full chest while you fight to keep the grin off your face, shaking your head.

“You’re already the smartest person here. Any smarter and we’re all doomed.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Declan.”

He pauses for a moment, pressing his side into yours and running his thumb across the soft skin of your thigh underneath your dress.

“I think we both know that’s not true, sweetheart.”

Your breath stutters as you will yourself to get it together, desperate to not repeatedly give in to his murmured promises and flirty remarks. It’s wrong. You know it is, both of you do, and yet…

“I want you gone by eight at the latest. I don���t need the two of you bumping into each other on my front step.”

He smirks like the cat that got the cream, looking down at you with lust drunk eyes.

“Good girl,” he whispers. “Promise to make it worth your while, yeah?”

“You always do,” you breathe out, so quietly that you’re surprised he hears.

He’s about to reply when you’re both startled by Rupert, striding over with the confidence of ten men and a bottle of champagne in his hand.

“Have they run out of glasses, CB?”

He slings an arm around your shoulder, laughing that rich man’s laugh right into your ear.

“Live a little, darling. Walk with me, will you? I have a story that might be worth your time, and I thought I’d bring it to my favourite journalist before anyone else.”

Rupert all but drags you across the garden, already chattering on about a scandal in the local constituency of the Conservative Party. You cast your eyes back to where Declan hasn’t moved, his gaze roving over your figure as you walk away.

He winks cheekily, dirty smirk slapped across his face.

You hate the way it sends electricity running through your veins in anticipation.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

It’s six forty five when there’s a knock on your door.

The devil himself is standing on your front step, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his broad chest.

“Hi darlin’.”

His accent is like molten honey, golden and warm and laced with sweetness. There’s mischief running through it though - as there always is.

“Come on,” you urge, grabbing his tie and pulling him inside, worried that one of your neighbours will see.

He laughs as he shuts the door behind him, unphased by your urgency.

“Thought you had a meeting. CB was telling me all about it earlier.”

“Rupert would tell you anything,” he chuckles. “He’s got a soft spot for pretty girls.”

“Sounds like someone else I know,” you giggle, undoing his tie from around his neck and hanging it on your coat rack.

“No. I have a soft spot for one pretty girl.”

“Sweet talker,” you tease as you roll your eyes, undoing the first few buttons on his shirt. “How about you put your money where your mouth is, hmm? We don’t have all night.”

He clicks his tongue, hands finding your hips to pull you against him.

“Patience, sweetheart,” he murmurs, leaning in so his lips brush yours. “Good things come to those who wait.”

“Less talking,” you scold, grabbing at his biceps to kiss him desperately.

Declan pushes you up against the wall, hips pressing into yours as he slips his tongue into your mouth. He tastes like cigarettes and whiskey and those mints he keeps in a tin in his back pocket. He scatters open mouthed kisses across your neck, licking across your skin and sucking the spot underneath your ear.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” he mumbles. “Ever since I saw you in this dress.”

“You like it?” you breathe, head rolling to the side to give him more access.

“I fucking love it.”

“Good. Bought it for you.”

He groans, grinding his hips into yours.

“You’re a minx,” he pants, biting at your shoulder. “You know exactly what you’re doing.”

With that, Declan wraps his arms around your middle, practically dragging you into the living room to throw you onto the sofa. He pulls your dress over your head, throwing it onto the floor with reckless abandon.

He instantly gets on his knees in front of you, spreading your legs with rough hands.

“Been waitin’ for this cunt all fuckin’ day.”

Your underwear is tugged down and discarded before you can blink, leaving you naked and high on the anticipation of it all. Your lungs are heaving, hands shaking as you will him to do something.

Declan sits back on his haunches, making a show of rolling up his sleeves. He looks so broad and commanding in his blue jeans with his shirt undone. He might be the one on his knees, but he’s definitely still in charge here.

You tangle your fingers into his dark hair and tug, pulling him closer.

“Please, Dec.”

“You sound so beautiful when ya beg.”

He grips your thighs tightly, ensuring they stay apart, as he leans in and presses kisses to any skin he can find.

“Don’t tease.”

“Or what, hmm? What are ya gonna do, sweetheart?”

“Stop it,” you chastise, head dropping back onto the cushions. “Please, baby.”

He chuckles before diving forwards, licking a stripe through your core. He wastes no time, tongue flicking over your clit like he’s done so many times before.

“Yeah,” you breathe out, fingers gripping his hair tightly. “Fuck, Declan.”

You’re convinced he enjoys this just as much as you do. He’ll eat you out for hours, never once expecting something in return - happy to feel you fall apart on his tongue again and again and again.

He knows exactly which spots will have you arching your back, how much pressure to use to have you writhing on the sofa cushions, where to put his hands to push you right over the edge. He can play you like a fiddle, observant and experienced.

His nose nudges your clit as he fucks you with his tongue, messy and wet and completely committed. The grip he has on your thighs is getting tighter and tighter, fingertips bruising your skin. You pray you’ll be able to see the marks when you look in the mirror tomorrow.

You’re teetering on the edge of your release, legs shaking and abdomen tightening. Declan can read you like a book, knowing exactly where you’re at - and taking advantage of it.

Just as you’re about to come, he pulls away and sits back, grinning like a deviant.

“No,” you’re panting. “The fuck are you doing?”

He laughs, leaning down to rest his head on your leg. He looks up at you with a gaze that’s half lust and half mischief, biting at his lip as he watches your chest heave.

“What do you want, darlin’?”

You pout at him, tears welling in your eyes.

“Come on, let me hear you say it. I want you to beg me to make you come. Tell me how you’ve been waiting for it all day, sweetheart.”

“I-Declan, I just-”

“Come on smart girl, use that big brain of yours. Why don’t you tell me all about how you think about me when you touch yourself? No - why don’t you tell me how you think about me while he fucks you?”

Your hips buck up into the air, desperate for any kind of friction. Declan laughs cruelly, wrapping his arms around your thighs again to pull you to the edge of the sofa, the strength he exerts only turning you on more.

“It’s okay,” he soothes against your core. “You don’t have to tell me. Your dripping wet cunt tells me everything I need to know, darlin.”

All you can do is moan, breathing like you’ve run a marathon. All you can see, all you can hear, all you can feel is Declan O’Hara.

“If we had the time, I’d edge you some more. Eat you out until you cried. You always look so pretty when you’re crying f’me.”

He finally takes pity on you, curling his tongue inside you as his nose repeatedly bumps against your clit. He’s practically making out with your core, saliva dripping down your thighs and onto the sofa. You can’t bring yourself to care about the mess, more focused on the older man’s mouth and the skills it possesses.

You’re whining, fingernails digging into his scalp as you grasp for something to hold onto. He’s groaning too, having just as much as fun as you are.

“Come for me, pretty girl. Show me how fucking beautiful you look.”

Your back bows off the sofa as you grind against his face, riding out your climax. Your thighs tighten around his head, desperate for him to keep going for as long as possible.

“That’s it. Atta girl. There we go.”

You’re trying to catch your breath as Declan stands up, sitting down next to you and pulling you into his side. His fingers draw patterns on your hips, absentmindedly calming you down as you nestle into him, seeking out his body heat.

You lean up and kiss him, slipping your tongue into his mouth eagerly. He tastes like you, and the realisation makes you whinge.

“Let me return the favour, please,” you whisper against his lips.

“As much as I’d love that, darlin’… we can’t.”

You quirk a brow at him in confusion, his rejection more than unusual.

“It’s twenty past eight.”

“Oh, shit,” you groan, finding your underwear and pulling them up your legs.

“I wish I could stay,” he reassures as he kisses you again sweetly. “You know I do.”

You nod, running your fingers through his sweat soaked locks to move them out of his face.

“Promise I’ll repay you next time.”

“I’ll hold ya to that.”

The phone ringing startles you both, your heart jumping in your chest. You pick it up quickly, wrapping the cord around your finger.

“Hello? How are you? Ah, good. Yes, fine. Alright, I’ll see you then. Yes, see you soon. Mhmm… I can’t wait either.”

You put it down just as quickly as you picked it up, finding your dress from the floor and pulling it over your head.

“That was Patrick. He’s at the train station, about to start the drive back here. He won’t be long.”

“I best get going then,” Declan says as he buttons up his shirt. “Don’t need a family reunion in your living room now, do we?”

You shake your head, scoffing at his attempt at a joke. Walking him to the front door, you press his tie from the coat rack into his hand so he doesn’t forget it.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, won’t I? You’re coming for lunch at the house?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” you say as you lean up to kiss him, sighing at the taste of his lips. “I’ll wear that lacy white lingerie under my dress just for you.”

“Great,” he groans. “Now I have to think about my son seeing that on you when it should be me.”

“You might,” you tease, smoothing out his shirt. “There’s a lot of rooms in that house, Declan.”

“You’re a minx.”

He kisses you once more, big hands cradling your face as he pulls you in.

“See ya tomorrow, sweetheart.”

“Yes, you will.”

You watch him go from your front step, making sure no one sees him leave. As soon as he’s out of sight, you’re shutting the door, trying to tidy the living room frantically. You open the windows, lighting a candle and picking up everything that was knocked to the floor in the lust filled frenzy. You’re covering your tracks as best you can, just like you’ve done countless times before.

You don’t need Patrick asking why the room smells like his dad’s aftershave.

You don’t need Patrick asking questions at all.

a little gift for you, as promised…

@do-it-for-kicks @whytheylosttheirminds @laverna-fanfictions @graceflorence

and of course, if you enjoyed this - throw me a little reblog if you so wish… help a girl out… <3

[d-z20]

The Agent Next Door part 3 (NSFW)

Pairing: Agent Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: When a ghost from Rio's past resurfaces, the safe haven you’ve built together is threatened. As danger edges closer, your bond deepens in unexpected ways, testing your trust and strength in each other. Amidst fear and uncertainty, you discover just how far both of you are willing to go to protect what matters most.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, angst, smut, fluff ending, fingering (R recv), oral (Rio recv), praise kink, slight power bottom Rio

Words: 4.2k

A/N: The angsty third (and final?) part as promised

AO3 | Part 1 | Part 2 | Master List

Under Her Protection

You’re sprawled out on Rio’s couch, nestled comfortably against her side as the TV plays in the background. It’s the kind of night you’ve both come to love—no plans, no rush, just the two of you together, half-watching some crime drama. You can feel the steady rise and fall of her chest as you rest your head there, her arm slung casually around your shoulders, fingers absently tracing patterns on your arm.

It’s a rare, peaceful moment, one that you’ve started to cherish more and more. You glance up at her; she looks different like this—softer. The usual tension in her jaw has melted away; her sharp features relaxed in a way you rarely get to see. You smile to yourself, the sight of her at ease filling you with a quiet kind of joy. She’s not just the composed, authoritative FBI agent you first met. Here, she’s Rio—your Rio—and you could watch her like this forever.

You press a kiss to her jaw, feeling her smile against your lips.

“Enjoying the show?” she asks, her voice teasing. You know she couldn’t care less about what’s on the screen, but it’s a running joke between the two of you—mocking the exaggerated, overly dramatic FBI agents depicted on TV.

“Oh, absolutely,” you drawl, playing along. “I just love how accurate it all is. Clearly, every case is solved in a day, and all agents wear heels and leather jackets.”

Rio chuckles, pulling you closer. “It’s ridiculous,” she snorts. “Half of this would get thrown out in court in a heartbeat. And don’t even get me started on the ‘enhance the grainy footage’ bullshit.”

You grin, enjoying the rare, playful side of her. “I bet you’d never pull a stunt like that. The great Agent Vidal would never dream of cutting corners.”

She raises an eyebrow, her smirk sharp. “Oh, you’d be surprised what I’ve pulled off. Sometimes rules are more like... guidelines.”

You laugh, leaning into her, and she squeezes your shoulder lightly. For a moment, everything feels easy—peaceful.

Then her phone buzzes, cutting through the quiet. She lets out a small sigh and picks it up, her expression immediately shifting as she reads the message. The shift is so sudden it makes your stomach drop. Without a word, she gets up and walks to the window, peering through the blinds like she’s expecting to see something—or someone—out there.

“Rio?” You ask cautiously, sitting up. “What’s wrong?”

She doesn’t answer right away, her shoulders visibly tense. Finally, she lets the blinds fall back into place and turns to you, her expression grim. “That was work,” she says, her voice low and controlled. “Someone I put away years ago just got released on parole. He... wasn’t supposed to get out this soon.”

You frown, confused. “Why is that a problem? Didn’t he serve his time?”

Her jaw tightens, and for a moment, you think she won’t answer. Then she sighs, running a hand through her hair. “The last time I saw him, he threatened to ruin my life,” she says quietly. “He’s dangerous. And vindictive. If he finds out where I live... who you are... how much I lov—.”

She doesn’t finish the sentence, but she doesn’t have to. The implications hang heavy in the air. You swallow hard, suddenly very aware of the weight of her job and the risks that come with it.

“Hey,” you say softly, standing and moving to her side. “I’m sure it’s fine. He probably doesn’t even know you’re here.”

Her eyes meet yours, and for the first time since you met her, you see real fear there. “Maybe. But I can’t take that chance.” She pauses, her hand brushing your arm. “I want you to stay here. At least until I figure out what’s going on.”

The seriousness in her tone leaves no room for argument, and you nod. “Okay. I’ll stay.”

You settle back onto the couch together, but the atmosphere has shifted now, an unspoken tension lingering in the room. Rio keeps her phone close, her other arm wrapped protectively around you, her eyes flicking back to the window every so often.

You try to focus on the TV show, but your thoughts keep drifting. It’s unsettling, this shadow of a threat hanging over the two of you, and you can tell Rio feels it too. Her grip on you tightens every time she hears a noise from outside, her thumb rubbing circles against your arm as if she’s trying to soothe both of you.

Eventually, you turn your head to look up at her. “You know, I don’t need a TV show when I’ve got my own personal action hero right here.”

Rio snorts, shaking her head. “Is that what I am now?”

“Yep,” you say, grinning up at her. “Neighbour, fashion critic, and now... bodyguard.”

She rolls her eyes but leans down to press a kiss to your lips, soft and lingering. “Just stay close, okay?”

You nod, your heart fluttering at the protectiveness in her voice. “I’m not going anywhere, Rio.”

Relief flashes across her face, but it’s fleeting. She takes your hand, leading you to her bedroom without another word. The silence between you is heavy but not uncomfortable—it’s charged, humming with unspoken worry and a need for closeness.

When you get to the bed, her hands are on you immediately, tugging you close. There’s a new intensity to her touch, her fingers gripping your hips firmly, almost possessively. She kisses you hard, like she’s trying to stake her claim, her mouth moving with an urgency you’ve never felt from her before.

“Rio—” you start, but she cuts you off with another kiss, her hands sliding under your shirt, nails raking up your skin. Her lips move to your neck, sucking and biting hard enough to leave marks that you know will last. It’s not just passion—it’s something deeper, rawer. Like she needs to prove to herself that you’re here, that you’re hers.

You let her take the lead, your own hands roaming her body, trying to reassure her in your own way. But she’s relentless, her mouth trailing lower, her teeth grazing your collarbone. She pushes you back onto the bed, her weight settling over you as she pins your wrists above your head.

Her gaze is dark, her eyes searching yours. “I need to know you’re safe,” she murmurs, her voice rough. “I need to feel it.”

You nod, your heart pounding in your chest. “I’m not going anywhere,” you whisper, and it’s the truth.

Her grip on your wrists tightens briefly before she leans down, kissing you again, slower this time but no less intense. 

The night is a blur of heated touches and whispered reassurances, her possessiveness never crossing the line into discomfort. Instead, it leaves you breathless, the depth of her need for you pulling you even closer.

When you finally fall asleep, tangled in her arms, the weight of her protectiveness wraps around you like a shield. Even as your mind drifts, you know this is only the beginning of whatever storm is coming. But with her by your side, you’re ready to face it.

—

You’ve been staying at Rio’s apartment for a week now, and every night, her hold on you seems to grow tighter. Even in her sleep, her arms remain locked around you, as though her subconscious refuses to let you out of her grasp. It’s a level of protectiveness you’re not used to, but you can’t deny how safe it makes you feel.

The days are a strange mix of normalcy and subtle unease. You run errands, cook together, and share quiet moments on her couch. But in the back of your mind, there’s always a faint sense of being watched. You’ve chalked it up to paranoia—Rio’s warning had a way of sticking with you, and you tell yourself you’re just imagining things.

Still, it’s hard to ignore the nagging feeling when you start seeing the same person more than once. A tall figure with a hood pulled low over their face, lingering at the edge of your vision. You’ve seen them on the street, at the corner store, and now again as you leave the grocery shop, arms full of bags. You glance over your shoulder, your pulse quickening as you catch sight of them just a few steps behind.

You quicken your pace, gripping the bags tightly. Your heart pounds in your chest as you cut across the street and head for the apartment building. You take a chance and glance back again. They’re still following.

By the time you reach Rio’s apartment door, your hands are shaking so badly you almost drop your keys. You fumble with the lock, finally getting the door open and slamming it shut behind you. You lock it, bolting the deadlock for good measure.

You text Rio immediately: I think I was followed. Just got back. Door locked.

The response comes quickly. Stay put. Don’t answer the door for anyone. I’m coming back now.

You breathe out, trying to calm yourself, but as you read her words, a new sound sends a chill down your spine. A faint rattle at the door.

Your stomach drops, and you freeze, staring at the door as the sound grows louder. It’s not your imagination. Someone’s trying the handle. Your mind races, and you grab the closest thing within reach—a table lamp. It’s not exactly a weapon, but it’ll have to do. Your grip tightens on the lamp’s base as the rattling stops, replaced by a loud bang.

The door crashes open, splintering the frame, and the hooded figure steps inside. They’re taller than you thought, their broad frame filling the doorway as they pause, scanning the room. You take a shaky step back, your heart pounding in your ears.

“Well, well,” he says, his voice dripping with malice. “Look who’s made themselves right at home. You must be the little pet she’s been keeping around.” 

Your mind races, and you instinctively take a step back, trying to put the kitchen island between you and him. “Who the hell are you?” you demand. 

He smirks, leaning against the doorframe. “You don’t know me, but Rio does. She’s the reason I spent the last ten years rotting away in a cell. Thought I’d pay her back by taking something she cares about.”

He lunges at you with a knife, and you barely manage to swing the lamp, hitting him across the face. He staggers back, but only for a moment, then charges at you again. You fight back, kicking and screaming, but he’s strong—stronger than you expected. He pins you against the wall, one hand around your throat. 

“That’s right, scream for her,” he growls. “Let’s see if she gets here in time.” 

You’re gasping for air, your vision blurring, when suddenly, the already broken door is rammed open again, falling off its hinges from the force of the action. 

Rio barges in, her gun drawn, her expression a mixture of fury and fear. “Let them go,” she says, her voice deadly calm, the kind that promises retribution. 

The man tightens his grip on you, pulling you in front of him as a shield. “Shoot me, and you’ll hit them,” he taunts. 

Rio’s eyes meet yours, and you can see the raw, helpless anger there. You’ve never seen her look so terrified.

The man tightens his grip on you, and your vision starts to black. Your pulse pounds in your ears, the lack of air making your limbs feel heavy. Rio stands frozen in the doorway, her gun unwavering, her eyes locked on the man holding you.

“Let them go,” Rio repeats, her voice low and seething with barely restrained fury.

The man smirks, his grip loosening just enough for you to gasp for air. “You really think you’ve got the upper hand here, bitch? You’re so predictable—always running to play the hero.”

Rio doesn’t flinch. “This is the last chance I’ll give you. Let. Them. Go. Now.”

He sneers, then suddenly shoves you away with all his strength. You stumble, hitting the edge of the kitchen counter hard before crumpling to the floor, pain flaring in your side. Rio’s shout of your name echoes through the room, but you can barely focus as you clutch at your ribs, trying to steady your breathing.

The distraction is all Rio needs. She lunges at him before he can turn back to her, knocking the knife from his hand as they crash to the floor. The struggle is brutal—a chaotic blur of punches and grunts as Rio fights with a ferocity you’ve never seen before.

He manages to pin her briefly, his hands going for her throat, but Rio uses the momentum to roll them over, her knee pressing into his chest. She grabs the cuff of his wrist and twists him onto his stomach, forcing him to let out a pained shout as she pins his arm behind his back.

“You should’ve let them go,” she growls, forcing his face against the floor. He thrashes beneath her, but her grip is unrelenting, her strength fuelled by sheer fury.

She pulls her cuffs from her belt, snapping them onto his wrists with a finality that fills the room. She grabs his hair and yanks his head up, knee still pressing into his back. “And now you’re going to pay,” she says coldly before smashing his face into the ground, breaking his nose, and knocking him unconscious.

Her eyes flick to you, her expression softening with worry. “Are you okay?”

Before you can answer, Rio pulls out her phone, calling for backup. Her voice is calm and clipped as she gives the necessary details, but her free hand remains clenched at her side, still shaking from the adrenaline.

When the call ends, she crouches next to you, her hands ghosting over your body, careful not to touch the areas where you’re clearly in pain. “Hey, let me see,” she murmurs, her tone gentle now. “Where are you hurt?”

You wince as you shift, trying to sit up. “Just... my side. Think I hit the counter pretty hard.”

Her jaw tightens, and for a moment, you think she might explode all over again���but she just exhales, brushing a hand over your hair. “Backup’s on the way. He’s not going anywhere. I promise you’re safe now.”

You nod weakly, and she leans closer, her forehead briefly touching yours. The tension in her body doesn’t ease until the distant wail of sirens signals that help has arrived. Even then, her focus stays on you, her protective presence a shield between you and the man who dared to threaten what she holds most dear.

With the chaos finally under control and the intruder hauled away in handcuffs, Rio keeps a steady arm around you as she guides you back across the hall to your apartment. You can still feel the tremors in your hands, the echo of fear and adrenaline in your veins, but her presence is grounding.

As the door closes behind you, she doesn’t let go. Instead, she leads you to the couch, sitting beside you with her arm securely around your shoulders. “You okay?” she asks softly, her fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from your face.

You nod, leaning into her touch. “Yeah. Just... processing.”

A flicker of guilt crosses Rio’s face. “I never should’ve left you alone.”

“You couldn’t have known,” you reply, reaching up to squeeze her hand. “And you came back in time. That’s what matters.”

She exhales heavily, her arms tightening around you protectively. For a while, neither of you speak, the silence broken only by the rhythmic sound of her breathing. Then she shifts, her thumb brushing against your knuckles. “I mean it, though—I’m not letting you out of my sight for a while.”

You roll your eyes but don’t argue. The truth is, you don’t mind the idea of her staying close.

As the evening wears on, you begin to feel a sense of normalcy returning. Wrapped in her arms, you finally let your guard down, the weight of the day melting away. You tilt your head up to meet her gaze, your heart skipping as you notice the way she’s looking at you—soft yet intent.

“You’re staring,” you tease, your voice quiet.

“Can’t help it,” she murmurs, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “You’re kind of hard to look away from.”

Your cheeks flush, but before you can respond, her lips capture yours in a kiss that’s slow and deliberate, like she’s savouring every moment. You respond eagerly, your fingers tangling in her hair as she shifts to deepen the kiss.

Somehow, the two of you end up lying on the couch, her body pressing against yours as your hands roam freely, exploring the familiar territory with renewed fervour. She pulls away just long enough to catch her breath, her forehead resting against yours. “Bedroom?” she whispers, her voice husky.

You nod, your heart racing as she helps you to your feet. The walk to the bedroom is brief, but each step feels charged with anticipation. 

You guide her to the bed, her hand sliding into yours as you both move with an unspoken understanding. She lets you press her down gently so she’s sitting on the mattress, her signature smirk tugging at her lips. “So, this is how it’s going to be tonight?” she teases, her voice low, challenging but still laced with warmth. Her eyes glint with curiosity, though you can sense she’s enjoying this shift in control. “Guess I can let you take the lead. Just this once.”

You can’t help but laugh softly, leaning down to press a playful kiss to her lips. “Call it a thank you for saving me. Hero perks, right?” You reply, your voice just as teasing.

Her chuckle rumbles low in her throat as her hands settle lightly on your hips, grounding you. “You’ve got an interesting way of saying thanks,” she murmurs, tilting her head to expose her neck—an invitation and a challenge all at once. “But I’m not complaining.”

You take her challenge with a grin, leaning down to press your lips to her neck, your kisses starting soft but quickly growing more heated. You find the spot just below her ear where her skin is most sensitive, and when she lets out a low, pleased hum, you focus your attention there. Your tongue darts out, followed by a sharp nip of your teeth, before you suck on her skin, leaving a mark to match the ones she gave you just nights ago.

She tilts her head back with a soft gasp, her fingers tightening their grip on your hips. “You’re getting good at that,” she murmurs, her tone teasing but breathless. Her words spur you on, and you trail more kisses down her neck, each one deliberate, each one claiming her in your own way.

As your lips continue their path, your hands slide over her body, unbuttoning her shirt and tugging it off. Your eyes roam her, taking in every inch of her toned body and the way her muscles flex under your touch.

“Enjoying the view?” she teases, arching a brow, but there’s a flush on her cheeks that betrays her confidence.

“Absolutely,” you reply without hesitation, earning a quiet laugh from her.

Your hands move to the waistband of her pants, your fingers brushing against her skin as you pull them down, leaving her bare before you. You grab her hips, pulling her into you so she’s perched on the edge of the bed, your legs pushing her knees further apart. Her dark eyes meet yours, filled with a mixture of anticipation and challenge, and you can’t help but feel a surge of affection and desire for her all at once.

“You look good like this,” you say softly, your hands trailing up her thighs as you kneel between them.

Rio leans back on her palms, her smirk widening. “Show me just how grateful you are, sweetheart.”

Looking directly into Rio’s eyes, you drag your tongue through her wetness. 

“That’s it,” she breathes, her voice huskier now. Her nails coming to dig lightly into your shoulder as her body shifts beneath you. 

Hooking your arms under her legs, you push your face further into Rio, tongue pressing firmer against her clit and she rolls her hips at the sensation. Your tongue swirls over and around her bundle of nerves, eliciting more praise. “You’re so good at this, sweetheart,” she says, her tone uncharacteristically tender.

The praise makes your stomach flip, and you press your thighs together, feeling your arousal soak your underwear.

You notice the subtle change in her demeanour, her usual teasing grin replaced by something softer, more vulnerable. Her hands grip you tightly, but there’s a gentleness to her touch you hadn’t expected. “I don’t give up control often. But with you... it feels right.” Her voice falters slightly, and the admission makes your heart ache with tenderness.

As her orgasm builds, she finally lets go entirely, her usual defences falling away. Her head tilts back, her breathy praises and quiet gasps filling the space. After she reaches her peak, she pulls you up to her, her arms wrapping around you tightly as if grounding herself. “You’re incredible,” she whispers into your ear, her lips brushing against your temple as she catches her breath. “But don’t think I’m done with you yet.”

Her smirk returns, this time sharper, more determined. Before you can respond, she drags you down on to the bed, flipping you gently onto your back. Her strength is firm but careful, her lips curling in amusement at your surprised expression. “Your turn,” she murmurs, her voice low and promising. She begins to trail kisses down your body, her actions deliberate and knowing. “Let me show you how grateful I am,” she adds, her grin growing as your body arches beneath her touch.

With that, she strips you, her soft hands feeling all over your body. When her fingers trail up your thigh, she lets out a soft chuckle at the feeling of your arousal dripping. “Seems like someone enjoyed the praise.” 

You whimper as her fingers press lightly against your clit.

“You made me feel so good, baby.” Her middle finger slides lower. “Such a clever girl.” She teases your entrance. “You know exactly how I like it.” She pushes her finger in.

“Yes, fuck, yes,” you moan as it curls inside you. “More.”

Rio slides another finger in, biting her lip and groaning at how easily you take it. "Oh, darling, you’re taking me so well,” she praises, starting to pump her fingers in and out. She adds a third, and you feel the familiar tightening in your stomach. She picks up the pace, fucking all of the tension from the night out of you both. “You look so good like this,” she coos.

Arching into her touch, head pushing into the mattress, you keen, “Oh fuck. Rio, you’re going to make me cum.”

“That’s it, sweetheart; you’re doing so well, cum for me,” she whispers against your skin, kissing your neck.

Your mouth falls open, a breathless cry escaping as your orgasm overtakes you. The tension that had been building within you shatters, a wave of heat and pleasure coursing through your body. You arch into her, every nerve alight, the sensation so overwhelming that it renders you momentarily weightless. A strangled gasp follows, your voice raw and unrestrained, her name slipping from your lips like a plea and a prayer all at once.

—

Later, as the two of you lay tangled in the sheets, Rio’s arms wrap tightly around you, holding you, refusing to let go. The tension of the night seems to fade, replaced by a sense of closeness you hadn’t fully realised until now. She presses a kiss to the top of your head, her fingers tracing absent patterns along your back.

“You know,” she begins softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t usually do this—let people in, I mean. I don’t let myself feel this way.” She hesitates, her grip on you tightening slightly. “But with you... I can’t imagine not having you here.”

Your chest tightens at her words, and you tilt your head to meet her gaze. The raw vulnerability in her eyes makes your heart ache. “Rio...” you begin, your voice trembling slightly as your hand brushes against her cheek. “I love you.”

Her lips part in surprise, and then her smile grows, soft and genuine in a way you rarely see. “Took you long enough to say it,” she teases, though her voice is thick with emotion. She leans down, brushing her lips against yours in a kiss that’s slow and tender. When she pulls back, her eyes lock with yours. “I love you too, you know.”

You crack a small smile. “So, I guess you’re gonna be the one crashing at my place now, huh? Seeing as it’s your door that got kicked in this time,” you say, breaking the tender moment.

Rio blinks at you, then lets out a soft laugh. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“Not a chance,” you reply, grinning now.

[marooningmirrorball]

Splattered Coffee and Spare Blouses

A/n: hello lovelies! this is my first ever fanfic so please be kind to me when you read this 🫣 any sort of feedback will be appreciated🤞also there is no physical description of reader, that picture was just the first cute white blouse that i saw on pinterest. i hope you like it!

content: coworker!rafe x coworker!reader

content warnings: complete ooc rafe, like not even a little bit canon. jealous rafe. desperate reader and rafe. idiots in love fr. coworkers/office au (?)

word count: 1.2k words

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Rafe is too busy drinking in the sweet melody of your voice to catch the actual content of your conversation with Matt. Or is it Mark? Mason? It doesn’t matter what his name is, the only relevant thing about the guy is that he delivers the paper to the office, and Rafe knows they’re getting a paper restock when he hears the tee-heeing of your giggle aimed at something supposedly funny that Miles joked about as he stacks the reams of paper on the tall shelves behind your desk.

You don’t actually ‘tee-hee’, it’s more of a soft chortle. Rafe likes to think he knows the difference, he tries to bypass these dreary office hours by studying each laughter.

First he takes in the sound and how much it made his heart clench, then he looks at your expression; happy, shy, nervous, anxious (he’s even found the difference between those two!), angry. Lastly he takes in the context of the laugh.

It’s definitely a titter when your boss is reprimanding your newest co-worker with the frosted tips, it’s a hodgepodge of a shy-nervous giggle when your boss is reprimanding you, and it’s absolutely a guffaw when Rafe delivers a joke he’d been meticulously planning before he presents it to you.

It usually doesn’t matter what type of laugh it is, the soundwaves from it wrap his heart up and squeeze, squeeze, squeeze, until Rafe forces himself to leave the room, because it can’t be normal to feel this way about a girl you've only been working with for the last three months.

But this isn’t all those other times, it's that unusual time of the month. What could a man who delivers paper to a pool coverings company possibly say to make you let out that joyous sound? What does a pool company even need paper for? Rafe, running his pointer finger along the rim of his coffee mug, comes up blank when he starts to really think about the former rhetorical question, he’s not too sure he ever wants to interact with Mike that will allow him to find out.

Too late. The kerfuffle Rafe accidently caused due to clumsy hands and an even clumsier brain leaves his (luckily) empty mug toppled, but Rafe’s not so blessed when his fallen over mug lands on his pen, triggering it to leap from his desk and splatter into your (unluckily) full mug.

You spin around in your chair at the commotion of Rafe’s, “Shit!”.

Rafe thinks being shot in the big toe would be less painful than this. It’s a Grade A Disaster. All he can see is the deep brown liquid dispersed in sporadic splats all over your previously white blouse.

“Holy shit, are you alright?”, Marcus is pulling out his handkerchief, of course Paper guy carries a handkerchief, in record time, dabbing away at the marks that have the clear intention to find a permanent home on your work top.

Rafe isn’t given a chance to play hero, before Milo is badgering, “Man, why are you doing trick shots right now? Aren’t you a sales guy?”, Rafe; however, is too mortified to think about a snarky comeback as he instead spews out a stumbled apology.

“Y/N, I-I am so so sorry– tha-that really wasn’t on purpose! I-I can–I will replace your shirt after work, I’m so sorry!”, it all comes out jumbled and untidy. A red-faced Rafe runs a hand down his face in exasperation before he’s suddenly up and grabbing at the fallen dishware, “Let me just-let me go get you some paper tow-”

You put an end to his unnecessary apologies with a gentle touch to his right hand that possesses the culprit. Rafe thinks his heart actually stopped.

The grin you bless him with manages to calm him down, “Rafe, you're okay! Don’t stress about it–really. It’s an old blouse anyway.”

And…what?

Rafe just managed to completely demolish your clothes, yet it’s you who is showing him kindness in this weak moment, “Look, if you’re really bummed out about it and want to reimburse me, I do need to go to the mall after this so…”, you drag out and let him fill in the blanks.

So did the mug actually fall onto Rafe’s head? Did he fall into a state of unconsciousness and wake up in a dream land? This can’t be real.

The scoff and retreat of Marcello’s boots snap him out of his thoughts, this is his life. This is his life and he has been staring at you in disbelief for too many silent seconds because you quickly begin to slip the offer out of his hands, “Uhh–well you don’t really have to join me to shop, I just thought since-”, now you're interrupted by Rafe’s reassurances,

“No! Wait–I mean yes! Erm I don’t actually know what I’m meaning to say”, you think the blush sporting his face has got to be the cutest thing you’ve possibly ever seen as he carries on, “I would love to come with you, please!” Jesus, he thinks, try sounding more desperate, he quickly corrects himself.

“Yeah, yeah, that would be cool if I join along. I-If you don’t mind obviously…” he trails off, unsure and not wanting to impose, despite you literally just inviting him.

The shyness is evident in your voice when you softly say, “No, it would absolutely be fun if you came with”, God, you think, why did I add absolutely in there, he’s gonna think I’m desperate.

“Okay cool.”

“Cool.”

Henry, your coworker with the frosted tips, stands at the corner of Rafe’s desk with his arms crossed, “Can I get some paper or do I need to wait another five minutes until your flirting is done?”

The both of you cower slightly in embarrassment at his teasing, but don’t let it dim the bright smiles adorning your faces. Rafe is sure that there’s nothing in this moment that could, he just scored a hang out with the female coworker that he’s been crushing on for weeks now! Not even the sight of smug Martin could kick him off this high right now.

Your too-old desk chair groans as you stand from it, and suddenly Rafe’s worried that Henry’s comment may have bothered you, “Where are you going?”, his rushed tone causes a giggle to escape you,

“My top is still soaked Rafe”, you gesture to the stained garment with a laugh, “I’m just gonna fetch the spare in my car. What? Do you want to walk with me there too?” Rafe misses the joking lilt of your voice because he’s up and walking towards the reception before you can stop him.

When the two of you return from your car, you with a clean (albeit slightly wrinkled from sitting in your ‘just in case’ bag) blouse on and Rafe with a bashful expression, Henry wiggles his eyebrows at the pair of you, implying something out of nothing. You both ignore it and get back to your work, not without the two of you sneaking glances at each other when you know the other isn’t looking.

Long forgotten are Max’s bad jokes and flirting, Henry’s annoying teasing, and this afternoon’s coffee disaster as you and Rafe walk side by side in the mall, he doesn’t think life can get better than this.

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[illbegottenfaith]

handwritten - theo nott x reader

yours and theo’s story as told through notes passed in class

a/n - came up with this quick idea to release some pent up creative energy while mulling over lucky pt 3. will prob make this an ongoing series for small ideas I can’t get fully fledged fics out of. easy to write, easy to read, enjoy!

tropes/warnings - fluff, a minor hinting at angst, newstudent!theo, estranged friends to lovers

word count - 1.5k

Monday, 10.07 am, Charms

Hey. You might want to pull your nose out of that disgusting textbook for once.

We’ve been over this. Just because you don’t understand something it doesn’t mean it’s disgusting. It’s very disrespectful.

What is disrespectful is you not paying attention to our year’s hottest new commodity - emphasis on the hot. I must say, he fills out that uniform quite nicely.

I’m sure he does.

C’mon, you’re not even a little bit curious? Just a peek?

Y/N? Hellooooooo? 

Oh my god. I know the guy.

???

What is he doing here? Last I heard he was being homeschooled.

Know him how??

We went to the same primary school. We were…friends.

Riiiight.

Don’t get any ideas. I haven’t seen him since I was ten. And he looked very, very different back then. Had a ratty sort of face. I can still kind of see it, actually.

Oh, Y/N, how could you say such awful things about his beautiful face! Oh dear, that bone structure…

Quiet, you. He’s really…grown. He’s so much taller now.

You know what you should do? You should offer to help him catch up.

On five years of school?

Oh, please, he was homeschooled. He had to have learnt some things. Who is he, anyway?

Theodore Nott.

Now that’s an Old Money name if I ever heard one.

Ivy. Be nice.

So? Is he? Old money, that is.

I…suppose so.

Are you sure you two were friends?

Yes. It’s been a while, that’s all. I just…wow. I can’t believe he’s here. Like, right there. I didn’t know if I’d ever see him again.

What happened?

He moved. I was starting at Hogwarts. We lost touch, it happens.

But now he’s back! Yay! Did you see those sinfully blue eyes of his?

Ivy, you have a boyfriend.

I know. Ivan agrees, by the way.

That he’s hot?

Yes.

He’s sitting on the other side of the room. When did you have time to discuss this??

Just now. Right in front of you. What did you think all that eyebrow-waggling was about?

I thought you were having a stroke. Merlin, the two of you are perfect for each other.

Don’t change the subject. He’s not gay, is he? Your friend? All the hot ones usually are.

I wouldn’t know, now, would I? I haven’t heard anything about him in years. Ivy, leave him alone. Please don’t harass the poor guy, sexually or otherwise. And quit it with the notes. He’ll notice.

How??? Has he got eyes on the back of his very nicely shaped head? He’s busy with Flitwick anyway.

Trust me, he’ll see. Nothing gets past Theodore Nott.

Monday, 2.15 pm, Potions

Well?????

Well, what?

The chat!!! Your chat!!!!!! With Mr. Theodore Nott!!!!!!!!

You have to quit it with the caffeine. You’re far too excitable after lunch.

The chat!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It was fine. It was…nice.

Uh-huh.

He goes by Theo now.

Okay. I’ll pretend I care about that.

It was all very casual, very superficial. It was really just us exchanging pleasantries. Oh, right. He asked me to accompany him to Quidditch tryouts.

You??? But you hate Quidditch.

I know.

Please tell me you didn’t say that.

I didn't. I just said I didn’t know much about it.

And?

He said that didn’t matter. He just wanted me there for moral support.

Then what was with all the turning red halfway through? You looked like you were going to combust.

Was it that obvious?

Ivan had some pumpkin juice ready, just in case.

It was nothing. I just wasn’t expecting it, that’s all. He called me his good luck charm.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You’re going to rip a hole through the parchment.

AWWWWW

So?? Did you say yes??

I said I’d think about it.

BOOOOOOOO

Come on, Vee. He’s been flying since before he could walk. He always talked about joining the big leagues, you know. He knows everything there is to know about Quidditch, so of course he’ll make the team. And it’ll have nothing to do with me.

But he doesn’t even have any friends yet :(

That’s because he hasn’t talked to anyone yet.

Y’know, Romilda Vane wanted to know why he was talking to you of all people.

What’s that supposed to mean??

Eh, you know. You can be a little…snippy.

I am NOT snippy.

There it is. The snippiness.

Whatever. It’s all so pointless. Come Thursday evening, he’ll have joined the Quidditch team and he’ll be hanging out with, y’know, those people, and we’ll be ancient history. He’ll make plenty of friends. He just doesn’t know it yet.

Okay. If you say so. Also, at lunch, I finally tried that thing you’re always talking about, “applying myself,” and I found this article on his dad in the library. From 6 years ago.

Don’t you want to know what the article said?

You could have mentioned he was a death eater, you know.

I don’t care about that, by the way. You used to be friends and that’s good enough for me. But, Y/N, he was arrested six years ago. And you haven’t talked to Theo in six years. But there isn’t any kind of connection between those, is there?

Y/N?

Do not make me throw this at you. I know how you feel about paper cuts.

Tuesday, 3.03 pm, Defence Against the Dark Arts

Where’s your friend?

?

You know. Who you’re always passing notes with in class?

You noticed?

Hard not to. It makes you all fidgety and annoyed.

Yeah, well, Ivy’s an annoying person.

I’ll take your word for it. What do you have after this?

Transfiguration.

Wow. That’s one of the harder ones, isn’t it?

Er, depends on who you ask, I think.

Still brilliant as ever, then.

Shut up. I’m not half the swot I was in primary school. 

I never thought you were a swot. You were just…enthusiastic.

That’s sweet of you to say, Theo.

Huh. I thought I’d always be Teddy to you.

We’re not ten anymore, Theo. I can say your name perfectly now.

That’s good. So, have you thought about it?

Thought about what?

The Quidditch tryouts. You’re the only person I know here so you have to say yes.

I don’t know. Some of the girls look pretty interested in getting to know you.

What?

Nothing. I guess I could swing by for a short while.

That’s my girl.

Thursday, 8.37 pm, Common Room

SO?????

He got in. Obviously. Was there ever any doubt?

Did he run up to you? Did he hug you? Did he pick you up and spin you around???

Witch Weekly is a bad influence on you.

Details, please.

He hugged me. Kind of. Nearly tackled me, he was so excited.

you are SO his good luck charm!!!!!!

Friday, 11.17 am, Defence Against the Dark Arts

Witch Weekly?

It’s not mine. I’m holding it for a friend.

Right.

Really, I am. Ivy’s a fiend for these but she has this Charms test coming up that she absolutely cannot fail.

I believe you. ‘Top 6 Magical Contraceptives for the Modern Witch’ doesn’t sound like your kind of reading material.

I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I was only having a little fun.

I’m not embarrassed. Are you embarrassed?

Erm, no, but you’re very red. Do you need to see the Healer?

I’m fine. It’s just hot. And no one calls Madam Pomfrey ‘the Healer,’ by the way.

Ah. I see.

Is there a point to all this? Did you need to ask something?

Oh, right. What are you up to on Saturday night?

Saturday? Dunno…wanted to take a crack at that Transfiguration essay.

Excellent. I’ll pick you up at 8.

Oh?

It’s nothing. A couple of the guys on the team wanted to celebrate with drinks at Hogsmeade. Everyone’s bringing someone, and I thought it would be nice if you came. Being my good luck charm, and all.

Oh, Theo, you probably don’t know this since you’re new and all, but going down to Hogsmeade is only permissible on certain weekends. And only start a couple of weeks into the term, so not yet.

Did you just -? Oh my god, you did. You laughed at me. You laughed at my note. Out loud. You’re lucky you’re in Slytherin, you know. Snape usually goes absolutely ballistic if anyone interrupts his lesson.

I’m sorry, I forgot what a stickler you were. I just - I didn’t think I’d miss it.

Please, Theo, forget the drinks. I cannot in good conscience stand by and let you break so many rules. You’ve been here less than a week!

Guess you’ll have to keep an eye on me. Make sure I stay out of trouble.

Exactly.

Great. See you Saturday at 8.

[urdreamydoodles]

How about Scott, Logan, Hank, Jean, Orroro, Erik, Colussus, Emma, gambit x reader where they kind of forget to take care of themselves. Like the reader will forget to do basic survival things ( eating, sleeping, drinking water, ect) and just generally overworking themselves

ps. love your content

X-Men x Reader

You forget to take care of yourself

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Kurt Wagner, Scott Summers, Jean Grey, Ororo Munroe, Rogue, Erik Lehnsherr, Hank McCoy, Colossus, Emma Frost & Bobby Drake

Logan Howlett aka. Wolverine

- Logan isn’t the type to hover, but he notices things others miss. He’s sharp enough to pick up on your exhaustion, the way your hands tremble slightly when you’re holding your coffee mug or how you’ve been skipping meals. At first, he doesn’t say much, figuring you’re just busy, but when it becomes a pattern, his concern kicks in.

- He corners you one evening when you’re buried in work, his gruff voice cutting through the quiet. “You gonna tell me what’s goin’ on, or do I have to guess?” When you brush him off with a tired smile, he narrows his eyes and crosses his arms. “You forgettin’ you’re not made o’ adamantium? You’re gonna keel over if you keep this up.”

- Logan doesn’t let it slide. The next morning, you wake up to the smell of coffee and bacon. He’s standing in the kitchen, his expression unreadable as he gestures to the plate he’s made for you. “Eat. And don’t even think about arguin’.” His tone leaves no room for negotiation.

- Despite his rough edges, Logan’s care is genuine. He starts keeping a closer eye on you, making sure you’re eating regular meals and getting enough sleep. He even drags you outside for fresh air, taking you on walks or insisting you join him for a sparring session. “Sweat it out, darlin’. Clears the head.”

- When you finally break down and admit how overwhelmed you’ve been, his reaction surprises you. He pulls you into a tight hug, his voice soft as he says, “You don’t gotta do it all alone. I’m here, y’know.” There’s an intensity in his gaze that makes you believe him.

- Logan becomes your rock, the person who grounds you when you’re spiraling. His quiet, steadfast support makes all the difference, and you know he’ll always have your back, even when you forget to take care of yourself.

Remy LeBeau aka. Gambit

- Remy is quick to notice when you start slipping on self-care. He may come off as laid-back, but his sharp eyes catch every little detail—the skipped meals, the heavy bags under your eyes, the way your energy dwindles. At first, he tries to coax you back into a routine with his usual charm.

- “Chérie, y’know you can’t live on caffeine alone, oui?” he teases, placing a plate of food in front of you during a late-night work session. When you wave him off with a distracted “later,” his smile falters, but he doesn’t push—yet.

- The breaking point comes when he finds you passed out at your desk, papers scattered everywhere. Panic flashes in his eyes as he shakes you awake, his voice tight with worry. “Mon amour, this ain’t okay. You scarin’ me.” Seeing the genuine concern on his face makes you realize how far you’ve pushed yourself.

- From that moment, Remy takes it upon himself to make sure you’re taking care of yourself. He starts showing up with your favorite snacks, pulling you away from work for impromptu dance breaks, and insisting you take naps—sometimes dragging you to the couch himself.

- One evening, after you confess how overwhelmed you’ve been feeling, he cups your face in his hands, his red-on-black eyes soft with understanding. “You ain’t gotta do it all, cher. Let me help, yeah? We a team.” His voice is so full of love that you can’t help but nod.

- Remy becomes your biggest cheerleader, always finding ways to make you smile and reminding you to prioritize yourself. His unwavering support and playful affection make it impossible not to feel cared for, and you know he’ll always be there to lift you up when you falter.

Kurt Wagner aka. Nightcrawler

- Kurt notices something’s wrong when you start missing your usual cheerful banter. Your exhaustion doesn’t escape him, and it worries him to see the spark in your eyes dim. He approaches you gently, his tail swishing with concern as he offers a soft, “Liebchen, you seem tired. Are you all right?”

- When you brush off his concern, Kurt doesn’t push, but he starts paying closer attention. He brings you tea when you’re working late, gently encouraging you to take breaks. When he sees you skipping meals, he tries to tempt you with your favorite dishes, his smile warm and inviting.

- One day, he finds you asleep in the library, slumped over a pile of books. His heart aches as he watches you, realizing how much you’ve been neglecting yourself. He teleports you to the couch, covering you with a blanket before sitting beside you, determined to be there when you wake up.

- When you finally open up about feeling overwhelmed, Kurt listens intently, his golden eyes full of empathy. “You don’t have to do this alone,” he says softly, taking your hand in his. “I know how it feels to carry too much, but you mustn’t forget to care for yourself. You are precious, mein Schatz.”

- From then on, Kurt makes it his mission to remind you of your worth. He leaves little notes of encouragement around the house, surprises you with flowers, and insists on taking you out for relaxing strolls or quiet nights under the stars.

- His unwavering kindness and quiet strength help you find balance again. With Kurt by your side, you feel lighter, knowing that his love and support will always be a safe haven when the world feels too heavy.

Scott Summers aka. Cyclops

- Scott is the first to notice when you start overworking yourself. His leadership instincts kick in, and he keeps a watchful eye on you, though he tries not to overstep. At first, he offers subtle reminders: “Don’t forget to eat,” or “You should get some rest.” But when it becomes clear you’re ignoring him, he grows more direct.

- One night, he finds you still at your desk, your eyes heavy with exhaustion. “This isn’t sustainable,” he says, his voice firm but laced with concern. “You’re going to burn out if you keep pushing yourself like this.” His seriousness makes it hard to argue, but you wave him off, insisting you’re fine.

- The breaking point comes when you collapse during a training session. Scott rushes to your side, panic flashing across his usually composed face. “You’re not fine,” he says, his voice tight with worry. “You need to take care of yourself. You can’t keep doing this.” His frustration is evident, but so is his love.

- After that, Scott takes a more proactive approach. He adjusts your schedule, ensuring you have time to rest and recharge. He checks in with you regularly, bringing you meals and reminding you to hydrate. Though his methods can feel a bit overbearing, his intentions are always rooted in care.

- One evening, as you sit together on the couch, you finally admit how overwhelmed you’ve been. Scott pulls you into his arms, his hold steady and reassuring. “You don’t have to do this alone,” he says softly. “We’re a team, and I’m here for you. Always.” His sincerity brings tears to your eyes, and you feel a weight lift off your shoulders.

- Scott’s support becomes a constant in your life, his quiet strength and unwavering dedication helping you find balance again. With him by your side, you feel like you can take on anything, knowing he’ll always be there to catch you when you stumble.

Jean Grey aka. Marvel Girl / Phoenix

- Jean notices your neglect almost instantly. Her psychic connection to you allows her to sense the subtle shifts in your emotions—the way your mind feels frazzled and your energy drained. She approaches you gently, her green eyes filled with concern as she asks, “Have you eaten today?” When you shake your head and brush her off, she doesn’t push, but you can tell she’s not satisfied.

- She starts taking small steps to ensure you’re cared for. She’ll float a sandwich or a glass of water to your desk while you’re working, her telekinesis a quiet reminder of her presence. When she sees you avoiding sleep, she’ll softly suggest turning in early, sometimes even staying awake with you to keep you company.

- One evening, Jean finds you in the kitchen staring blankly at an empty coffee cup. Her worry reaches a breaking point. “This isn’t just about being busy,” she says, placing her hand over yours. “You’re pushing yourself too hard, and I won’t let you burn out.” There’s no judgment in her voice, only love and determination.

- When you finally break down, admitting you’ve been overwhelmed and feel like you’re failing at everything, Jean pulls you into a warm embrace. Her psychic presence wraps around you like a soft blanket, calming your racing thoughts. “You’re not alone in this,” she murmurs. “Let me help carry the weight. That’s what love is for.”

- Jean starts creating little rituals to help you take care of yourself. She insists on morning coffee together, quiet evening walks, and regular check-ins where you both share your thoughts and feelings. Her calm, nurturing nature makes you feel safe, like you can breathe again.

- With her help, you begin to find balance. Jean’s love is steadfast and comforting, a reminder that you don’t have to face life’s challenges on your own. Her psychic connection becomes a lifeline, silently encouraging you to take care of yourself as she quietly supports you every step of the way.

Ororo Munroe aka. Storm

- Ororo notices something is wrong when your usually vibrant energy starts to dim. She’s intuitive and observant, picking up on the smallest signs—the slump in your shoulders, the hollow sound of your laughter. She approaches you one evening, her calm voice breaking the silence: “You’ve been neglecting yourself, haven’t you?”

- When you try to deny it, Ororo gives you a knowing look, her piercing blue eyes full of quiet authority. “You can’t lie to me, love. I see the storm you’re carrying inside you.” Her words are gentle but firm, and she begins to subtly guide you toward self-care without overwhelming you.

- One night, Ororo invites you to join her in the greenhouse. She hands you a watering can and encourages you to tend to the plants with her. As you work side by side, she talks softly about balance and how nature thrives when it’s nurtured. “You’re just as precious as these plants,” she says, her voice full of affection.

- When you finally admit how much you’ve been struggling, Ororo takes your hands in hers, her touch warm and grounding. “You’re not weak for needing help,” she tells you. “Even the strongest storms need time to rest and rebuild.” Her words hit you deeply, and you feel a weight lifting as you share your worries with her.

- Ororo begins incorporating moments of peace into your daily routine. She takes you on walks during sunrise, leads you in meditation sessions, and teaches you how to find solace in the quiet moments. Her serene presence becomes a beacon of calm in your chaotic life.

- With Ororo by your side, you start to feel whole again. Her love is like the rain—cleansing and rejuvenating, reminding you that even in the darkest times, there is beauty and renewal waiting just around the corner.

Anna Marie aka. Rogue

- Rogue isn’t the most subtle when she notices you’ve been neglecting yourself. She’s direct and to the point, her Southern drawl laced with concern as she says, “Sugar, when’s the last time you ate somethin’ that wasn’t outta a vending machine?” Her bluntness is her way of showing she cares, even if it catches you off guard.

- She doesn’t let the issue slide. Rogue starts showing up with home-cooked meals, setting them in front of you with a stern look. “Don’t make me spoon-feed ya,” she jokes, though there’s an edge of seriousness in her tone. Her care comes with a healthy dose of sass, but it’s impossible not to feel loved.

- When she catches you skipping sleep to work late, Rogue plants herself on the couch beside you, her arms crossed. “If you don’t lay down and rest, I’m gonna drag you to bed myself,” she warns. Her no-nonsense attitude is oddly comforting, making you realize she’s not going anywhere.

- One night, after you finally break down and admit how overwhelmed you’ve been, Rogue’s demeanor softens. She pulls you into a tight hug, careful not to touch you with her bare skin. “I know what it’s like to feel like you gotta carry it all, but you don’t have to, darlin’. I’m here, and I ain’t lettin’ you go through this alone.”

- Rogue starts actively looking for ways to lighten your load. She’ll take over small tasks, crack jokes to make you smile, and even pull you away from work for impromptu movie nights. Her mix of tough love and genuine affection becomes a lifeline for you.

- With Rogue in your corner, you feel stronger and more supported than ever. Her love is fierce and unwavering, a reminder that you’re never truly alone as long as she’s by your side.

Erik Lehnsherr aka. Magneto

- Erik is not one to hover, but he’s perceptive enough to notice when you’ve been neglecting yourself. He watches you carefully, his piercing gaze full of unspoken concern. “You’re running yourself into the ground,” he finally says one evening, his voice low and serious. “This cannot continue.”

- When you try to brush him off, Erik’s frustration shows. “Do not insult my intelligence,” he says sharply, though there’s no malice in his tone. “I know you’re struggling. Why must you insist on facing this alone?” His words cut through your defenses, but they’re rooted in a deep care for you.

- Erik begins to intervene in his own way, using his powers to remove distractions and obstacles. He’ll levitate your work away from you, placing it out of reach with a raised eyebrow. “You can finish that later,” he says firmly. “Right now, you need to rest.”

- When you finally confess how overwhelmed you’ve been, Erik’s expression softens. He steps closer, his voice quiet but resolute. “I have spent a lifetime fighting for what I believe in, but nothing is more important to me than you. Do not think for a moment that you must bear this burden alone.”

- Erik becomes a steadfast presence in your life, offering both practical support and emotional comfort. He’ll prepare meals, insist on regular breaks, and hold you close when the weight of the world feels too heavy. His love is intense and protective, a force as unyielding as the metal he commands.

- With Erik’s unwavering support, you begin to find balance again. His love is a shield against the chaos, reminding you that even the strongest among us need someone to lean on. In his arms, you feel safe, cherished, and whole.

Hank McCoy aka. Beast

- Hank notices your habits immediately—your distracted demeanor, the hollow tone in your voice, the faint shadows under your eyes. Ever the scientist, he doesn’t bring it up outright but quietly observes. “Have you had any sustenance today?” he asks casually, his blue eyes studying you carefully. When you deflect with a vague answer, he hums knowingly but doesn’t press—yet.

- The next day, you find yourself gently cornered in the lab as Hank casually sets down a plate of food next to you. “I’m aware of your penchant for neglecting basic human needs under stress,” he says with a slight smile. “So, humor me and eat this while we talk.” His concern is masked with light humor, but you feel his genuine worry behind every word.

- One evening, after you nearly pass out from exhaustion, Hank’s patience wears thin. “Enough,” he says firmly, his normally gentle tone sharp. “You’re not a machine, and I won’t allow you to treat yourself as such.” His words hit harder than you expect, and his disappointment feels like a heavy weight.

- When you finally break down, confessing that you feel like you can’t stop or everything will fall apart, Hank pulls you into a surprisingly tender embrace. “You are not an island, my dear,” he murmurs. “You don’t have to face everything alone. Let me be your foundation when the ground feels unsteady.”

- From that day forward, Hank becomes your fiercest advocate for self-care. He insists on regular meals and sleep schedules, even developing a playful system of reminders with your favorite quotes or jokes to lighten the mood. His support feels like a lifeline, steady and comforting.

- With Hank’s love and guidance, you learn to value yourself as much as he values you. His steady presence and unwavering care remind you that balance is essential, and you’re never truly alone as long as he’s by your side.

Piotr Rasputin aka. Colossus

- Piotr is gentle and observant by nature, so he notices your struggles quickly. When you skip meals or overwork yourself, his brow furrows with quiet concern. “My love,” he says softly, his Russian accent warm and soothing, “when did you last take a moment for yourself?”

- At first, he tries subtle nudges—leaving water by your desk, offering to cook meals together, suggesting walks to clear your mind. When these hints go unnoticed, Piotr decides to take a more direct approach. One evening, he lifts you effortlessly and carries you to the kitchen, setting you down with a warm smile. “Now, we eat.”

- Piotr’s breaking point comes when he finds you passed out from exhaustion. His steel exterior reflects his internal turmoil as he carries you to bed, sitting beside you until you wake. “You push yourself too hard,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “You do not need to prove anything to me—or anyone. You are enough as you are.”

- When you finally open up about feeling like you can’t afford to slow down, Piotr listens intently, his large hands gently holding yours. “I understand what it means to feel burdened,” he says. “But strength is not just enduring. It is knowing when to lean on those who love you.”

- From then on, Piotr takes it upon himself to help you find balance. He plans quiet evenings with books and art, prepares your favorite meals, and insists on taking over tasks when you’re overwhelmed. His unwavering care feels like a protective shield around you, keeping the chaos at bay.

- With Piotr’s love and steadfast support, you begin to feel whole again. His patience and kindness teach you that caring for yourself is not weakness but strength, and his presence becomes a source of peace in your life.

Emma Frost aka. The White Queen

- Emma is not one for subtlety, so when she notices you neglecting yourself, she calls you out immediately. “Darling, when was the last time you ate something that wasn’t coffee?” she asks, one perfectly arched eyebrow raised. Her tone is sharp, but her concern is evident beneath the cool exterior.

- At first, she approaches the situation with her usual no-nonsense attitude, dropping off meals and reminders as if it’s part of a business transaction. “Eat this. Sleep at least six hours. Hydrate. It’s not rocket science,” she quips, but you catch the flicker of worry in her piercing blue eyes.

- One evening, when she finds you working late into the night, Emma decides enough is enough. She strides into the room, telepathically shutting down your laptop with a smirk. “You’ll thank me later,” she says, her voice softer than usual. “You’re running yourself ragged, and I won’t stand for it.”

- When you finally admit you’ve been overwhelmed, Emma’s demeanor shifts. She places a hand on your shoulder, her touch surprisingly gentle. “You’re not invincible,” she says, her tone uncharacteristically tender. “Even diamonds need care to maintain their brilliance. You are no exception.”

- Emma takes a proactive role in helping you find balance, using her sharp intellect and connections to ease your workload. She also insists on luxurious self-care days, dragging you to spas or planning lavish evenings to remind you of your worth. Beneath her icy exterior lies a fiercely protective heart.

- With Emma’s unwavering confidence in you, you start to see yourself through her eyes—strong, capable, and deserving of care. Her love is a blend of tough love and indulgent comfort, reminding you that self-worth is as important as any task at hand.

Bobby Drake aka. Iceman

- Bobby notices your neglect through your behavior—the way you brush off his jokes or seem too tired to engage with his usual antics. “Hey, you okay?” he asks casually, but his tone is laced with concern. When you shrug him off, he doesn’t push, but he starts paying closer attention.

- At first, Bobby tries to help in his own playful way, slipping snacks onto your desk or cracking jokes about needing to stage an intervention. “Don’t make me freeze your coffee until you eat something,” he teases, though his grin can’t quite hide the worry in his eyes.

- One day, when he finds you asleep at your desk, Bobby’s joking demeanor drops. He gently shakes you awake, his expression serious. “This isn’t funny anymore,” he says quietly. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself. It hurts me to see you like this.”

- When you finally open up about how overwhelmed you’ve been, Bobby listens intently, his usual humor replaced with genuine care. “You don’t have to do this alone,” he says, his hand warm on your shoulder. “I’ve got your back, no matter what. Let me help, okay?”

- Bobby becomes your biggest cheerleader, finding creative ways to make self-care fun. He’ll freeze your water bottles into cute shapes, plan impromptu dance breaks, or drag you out for ice cream dates to remind you to take a breather. His lightheartedness feels like a balm to your stress.

- With Bobby’s love and unwavering support, you begin to find joy in the small moments again. His ability to make you smile, even on the hardest days, reminds you that life is about more than just work. Together, you learn to face challenges with a little more humor and a lot more heart.

[everpresence]

I was wrong.

over the last few weeks, i started heavily questioning my beliefs.

i noticed that some of my desires came in faster than other desires. some of them (as you may see in my recent posts) took years to reflect, but some of them got reflected so fast at the speed of light.

i’ve been told by various people that there’s usually a time delay for desires to materialize in the 3D, and for some reason, it resonated with me. that’s why i mention it in my answers because i was merely basing it off of my own experiences with the law.

but something clicked for me recently. i watched a video by missy renee, about why people haven’t seen their manifestations for years. i’m just going to put it out there that you don’t need to pay for coaching. there are a lot of manifesting coaches that don’t know what they’re talking about, and when you read source, it’s a lot more telling. missy renee is not one of those coaches. she has read source and has even applied those teachings into her life. if i have to recommend a coach for you to watch, though, it would be her.

anyways, there was a line that she said that i immediately wrote down because it caused so much confusion in me. basically, she said that the reason why we have yet to see things come to pass is because we are still identifying with our old beliefs — our old story — and due to this, we become double-minded. this double-mindedness is then perceived as the “time delay.”

in that moment, i slowly leaned back in my chair. it was an “a-ha” moment for me, but it was also a little harrowing.

how long have i held myself back from just accepting that i am the person that i wanted to be? how long have i been limiting myself, telling myself the old story over and over again like a broken record? more importantly, i’ve been telling other people that there is such thing as a “time delay” because i decided that i should experience the delay.

so when i wrote a list and just allowed my higher self to figure it out, some of them came in so fucking fast at the speed of light. it stunned me. that’s when i realized that i was holding a false belief.

i never thought that i’d be writing an apology post, but here i am. i’m holding myself accountable because i was the one that wrote that there is such thing as a “time delay,” but in reality, there isn’t. sure, you don’t have to be pitch perfect with your beliefs, but when this desire has no conflict with your beliefs — when you have no resistance, when you aren’t arguing with yourself about whether you have it or not — then there’s no delay.

i remember some people said that it should not take more than thirty days, and i used to think that it’s bullshit, but now i can clearly see that there is a reason why they believe this. it’s not even about the length of time, but about how frequent you return to the state. it’s all about you accepting that the person you want to be is who you are now.

besides that, i want this post to be a reminder that everyone’s beliefs are constantly changing. there is always going to be expansion, growth, an inevitable withering of the old beliefs and the blossoming of new beliefs the more we learn about how this all works. this is why i want people to go back to reading source, to not always take everyone’s posts as “truth” or “the gospel” because we are all still learning in the end. learning never ends.

edit: i don't mean to say all this for you to start focusing on the physical reality as your primary reality. i still wholeheartedly believe that this is merely a reflection of your beliefs, and ultimately, it is all about who you are choosing to be right now despite what it looks like.

[thatdisasterauthor]

I do indeed have much I can say on all of this! I don’t have time for a full breakdown, but let’s hit some key points.

🌪The Milton evacuation and changing the direction highways.

This is called “contraflow” and it is indeed a thing that is frequently used in evacuations. However, from what I understand, Florida might have laws against this? At least that’s what I’ve heard, or maybe just laws that do indeed make it very difficult. I haven’t had a chance to look into it too closely. And it is a tricky thing to do safely just off the cuff without a known procedure in place, which you wouldn’t have if it’s against the law in your area. You’ve gotta shut down all the exits/entrances accordingly so you don’t have issues with head-on traffic, you’ve gotta make sure you have effective alternate routes for emergency traffic, you’ve gotta have a space to reintegrate traffic into the proper lanes once the contraflow segment has ended, etc. etc.

You’re right that this isn’t a police problem, it’s a LAW problem. Maybe also a police problem in the sense of what trainings are available to them, what procedures they have in these situations, etc., but not an ACAB style police problem. Plenty of places DO use it, like I said. (Also, sometimes you’ll get spontaneous contraflow, where people just start doing on their own, but that’s a whole different can of worms.)

🚗 Over dependence on cars.

America is indeed super car dependent, but that’s not exactly the issue here, at least not in the way you’d think. First off, evacuations are just HARD. That’s a lot of people to move. Even if you took every large transport vehicle in a given area (so all the buses of any sort, any trains, any planes), you’re not going to get the entire population moved out in a timely manner, even if every seat is taken. It just isn’t feasible for so many reasons. People DO need to be able to evacuate via car. It’s also very dependent on the disaster in question. An evacuation for a hurricane is very different than most other evacuations due to the amount of time you, usually, have.

Now, one thing that happens and causes problems during evacuations is that people take ALL their cars instead of just one. Mom takes one car with the kids and as much stuff as possible stuffed in the back, and Dad takes his truck with the dogs and the bed piled high. A lot of evacuation planning doesn’t account for this. They see a four person family and think, “ah yes, the family sedan has six seats, they’ll just take that and go, we don’t need to plan for them to put both their cars on the road and at all the gas stations along the way.” But then they do take both cars, and so does every other family on the road, and suddenly you’ve got a shit ton more cars doing something that you expected a lot less cars to be doing. I have a lot more thoughts on this I can share later, if people are interested, but for now we shall move on.

(There’s also definitely an element of poor city planning and infrastructure in some places, but that’s very much a case by case thing.)

👩🏻‍🚒 We need a better emergency management system.

Yes! Though, actually, we already have a pretty good one as compared to other countries. Not great, by any means, but something like FEMA is pretty rare. Most countries just kind of ad hoc disaster response on a case by case basis, which is also what we did until we created FEMA in the 70s.

I have A LOT of thoughts about how we could improve the system as it currently stands, which is a big part of why I want to do a PhD in emergency management.

🔥 When to evacuate.

You mentioned this in relation to the Camp Fire, and that one is…yeah, that one was so bad. There’s a lot that goes into making evacuation decisions, and unfortunately studies have shown that a lot of emergency officials still believe the myth that people will panic if you give them too much information about a disaster. This leads to delays in evacuations, among other things. Also, evacuations are expensive, and that makes officials hold back. Plus, there’s the “cried wolf” effect where if it turns out the evacuation WASN’T needed, the next time it IS needed, people will be less likely to go, which again makes officials hold back.

With the Camp Fire, though, I don’t know if any of that specifically was what was at play. That thing just moved FAST. Also, this was a small mountain town. There were not a lot of ways out, just thin mountain roads. I guarantee those officials who made the evacuation call hesitated because they knew people WOULD get stuck on the few potential roads to safety. They weren’t making a choice about evacuation, they were making a choice on where they wanted people to be when the fire DID hit. Because it was going to hit. So do they concentrate people all in one spot, on a road that itself won’t burn but will be completely surrounded, or do they keep people spaced out all over town hoping that pockets of it might be safe? And they had to make that decision at the drop of a hat, knowing people were likely to die either way.

Fires are, in my opinion, the most terrifying thing to have to manage an evacuation for. They are both incredibly quick, but also potentially long lasting. They can shift direction at a moment’s notice. They can do things you never knew they could do. They can consume absolutely massive areas. They can die down and pop back up when you least expect it. And to be the person making the decision on how to handle that must be a very, very heavy weight.

👋🏻 People in positions of power just waving their hands.

Some do, some don’t. There are so, so many amazing people out there who care about this stuff and are doing their best to address these issues. But they need support. Taking over the department of transportation isn’t the answer, your local emergency management department is. Check out what their emergency plans look like, they should be on your county and state websites. Read through them, find the holes, go to meetings, contact your representatives. Be a nuisance to Congress RIGHT NOW.

🎓 Disaster education

Lastly, to @kyraneko’s point about needing better disaster education, yes! Yes we do! I think one of FEMA’s weakest points is its lack of addressing and helping individuals directly prior to a disaster, rather than in large groups. I’m working on it. Got a big project in the works that will, hopefully, start addressing this issue. And that’s not including the PhD.

Sooooooo….yeah! :D That ended up a lot longer than I thought, lol. Hope some of it was interesting to those of you who have made it to the end.

So I have a friend from high school who is a cop. (Yes, I KNOW.) I shared a photo on Facebook of a packed highway of people attempting to evacuate from Hurricane Milton, all while the lanes going in the opposite direction were open and empty. And my Facebook post was basically me screaming, “Open the other side of the highway and reverse it so that people can GET OUT.”

His response was essentially, “Yeah, that is *really* difficult for us to do.” Not in a condescending way, because he genuinely isn’t a huge asshole. (Yes, I KNOW.)

And then I may have vented in my response, in which I tried not to imply that the police were a problem. Because to be honest, I don’t see this as a police problem. I see this as how we have fucked ourselves as a nation by making ourselves so dependent on cars.

There is that poll on this site – or multiple polls, at this point – asking how long people can tolerate being in their cars. And the thing is, Americans (and Canadians as well, I am imagining) have almost no other options. We have to be used to spending a good 12 hours in a car without breaking a sweat. Everything in this country is built around being in a car. There’s a reason when you ask us how far away a place is from somewhere else, we normally give that distance in hours and not miles.

Air travel sucks. It sucks for a multitude of reasons – cost, the hassle of dealing with security, the time suck, etc. – and in an emergency, only a select few are going to be able to use it to get away from a hurricane. And that’s one of the few disasters where air travel is an optional escape.

Train travel sucks. Amtrak is not something you’re gonna be complaining about if you’re trying to get away from whatever disaster you need to evacuate from. But next to so many other countries, Amtrak looks like we’ve been receiving other countries’s leftover railway systems from the 70s. It also doesn’t go everywhere. I live in northeastern Pennsylvania near Scranton, which prides itself on its history in the train industry. We have a museum and everything. We have multiple things named after that museum, including the Steamtown marathon which is happening tomorrow.

Can you get on a passenger train in Scranton? Nope.

(The main argument against this always seems to be that people will come here from New York City and commit crimes, which is hilarious considering if somebody wanted to come here from New York City and commit crimes it’s only a 2.5-hour drive.)

Anyway, disasters.

If the only option you’re gonna give most people to get out of areas of Florida that are being targeted by hurricanes or areas of California that suffer from wildfires or places in the Midwest that face flooding are cars, then we need a better fucking emergency management system regarding transportation in this country. You can’t just sit there and mock people for not evacuating because they can’t or won’t when getting away from Milton meant sitting on highway for hours with absolutely no gas stations whatsoever nearby having any gas at all. (It just makes me think of those photos of people stranded on the highway in their cars in blizzards where people are like, “Now imagine imagine how bad it would be if all of those cars were electric!“ Well, all of those cars in that photo in that blizzard run on gas and they’re fucking stranded, sooooooo.)

Look, we can change the transportation system in this country. we did it before and we can do it again. We used to have more train options, fewer highways. My small hometown had a fucking trolley in the 40s. Now, if you don’t have a car here, you’re stuck. You can’t even get Uber here. if a wildfire started here and surrounded the town, it would be a clusterfuck.

Regardless of how you feel about the police, if police and fire departments in this country cannot organize an evacuation on a highway in a way that will reduce the backup so that tens of thousands of people aren’t sitting in their cars when a hurricane hits, that’s a problem – not just for those people, but for the police, and the fire department, and emergency management in general.

The people in charge of emergency management are just people, just human. I’m researching the Camp Fire in 2018 right now, and you had a bunch of people calling 911 saying, “I can see a huge fire off to the east. Are we safe? Should we evacuate?” The 911 operators could only work off the information they had. They could have told people to evacuate earlier, but Cal Fire didn’t anticipate the strength of the fire. Which is understandable. Nobody could anticipate the strength of that fire. But the 911 operators were sitting in an office with no windows, and they had no idea what was going on the east. They couldn’t look out and see exactly what was happening. If they could have, they probably would have told people to leave as soon as possible much sooner than they were told to. Instead, they waited for official confirmation, and when they did start telling people to evacuate, traffic managed to back up in a small town of 25,000 people until many of them were trapped in an unimaginable hellscape.

When people need to evacuate from a disaster, and they stay instead, far too many people - including those in positions of power – just kind of wave their hands and say, “Well, we tried.” No, we didn’t. This country made not trying its watchword, and now we’re at a point where unless you own a car, which is a luxury a lot of people cannot afford in this economy, escaping from disaster is impossible. So you can get in your car or somebody else’s car and go sit on a highway and hope your gas doesn’t run out, since none of the gas stations for 100 miles have any gas to give you, or you can stay in your house and hope you don’t die.

Sometimes, I really wish somebody would make me the head of the department of transportation. I would demand an absurd amount of money to build a better train system, to provide better transportation options for smaller towns, to provide extensive training for rescue personnel in managing evacuations like the clusterfuck in Florida this week. I would become an absolute fucking nuisance to Congress. I would be asking for money left and right to make it so that our only options as Americans weren’t to get into cars we can barely afford these days and attempt to organize our own evacuations from the growing number of natural disasters in this country.

Y’all keep posting these polls about how long you can tolerate being in a car at the same time that tens of thousands of Floridians were sitting on highways trying to get away from Tampa so they wouldn’t die in a hurricane.

We can tolerate being in a car all goddamn day. It’s because we don’t have a fucking choice, even when it’s life or death.

[strnilolover]

NNN - chris sturniolo - long distances

You and Chris had been together for a little over a year, content with one another and the company each of you had to bring.

Before hand — you were good friends, best friends to be exact. Not with just him, but with his brothers too, and it was nice to know nothing really changed after putting a label on the two of you.

Chris and his brothers were already in their filming career when you had gotten together — making videos and posting them twice a week for their fan base that was already growing so large within a short amount of time.

Though, one day, while cuddled up with chris on your couch at your home — he broke the news to you.

He was moving to LA with Matt and Nick. Having already made enough money to afford a nice little place there. It was shocking to hear, and at first you were upset — upset with the fact you couldn’t see him everyday and you wouldn’t be around him when you needed him or wanted him.

But, the upset had been replaced with excitement over time. Thinking of all the possibilities for Chris and how amazing it was that he was able to do this with his brothers. And of all the stories you would be able to hear about his new life in a busy and bustling city.

When the day had finally come for him to move — it was spent with tears and hugs and promises to one another that everything would be okay.

And for the most part it was, you called every night — texted each other too many times through out the day and stayed connected. But, at some point things started to change. Chris grew more busy with work and with his clothing line he was starting, and the absence made you feel empty. Like he wasn’t even really there.

There were less calls, more messages being left on read or delivered — but Chris at least would tell you when he was busy and couldn’t talk, which you appreciated.

Eventually, everything began to weigh down on you. And you needed to tell him — needed to let him know how you were feeling. That you were having doubts.

-

Your room was quiet except for the faint hum of your laptop. Chris’ face filled the screen, his familiar features bathed in the soft light of his LA room. He looked tired, his curls messier than usual and his celtics hoodie hanging loosely on his frame. You tried to ignore the hollow ache in your chest as you smiled at him.

“How was your day?” you asked, forcing a casual tone as your eyes looked around your screen, taking in the view you’ve seen hundreds of times already.

Chris shrugged, leaning back against his chair. “Same as usual. Filmed with Nick and Matt, ran some errands. We tried this new sushi place for dinner. It was good, but, uh… not as good as Boston sushi.”

You let out a soft laugh, even though it stung a little. “Boston sushi is definitely better. How’s the apartment coming along?” you asked — a question that would slip here and there.

Chris shrugged slightly. “Fine, I guess. Still trying to figure out where to put everything. Matt thinks we need more stuff on the walls, but Nick keeps saying we don’t. It’s a whole thing.” He gave a faint smile, his voice lacking its usual warmth. “What about you? How was work?”

“Busy,” you said simply, picking at the edge of your blanket. “Came home, made dinner… I made too much again. I keep forgetting I’m just cooking for one now.” you admitted. Being so used to his presence all the time, you often made dinner for two people — it was still a hard adjustment.

Chris’ smile faltered, guilt flashing in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said softly.

You shook your head quickly, brushing it off. “It’s not your fault. I just need to get used to it still — even if it’s been a little.”

The conversation then faded into silence, and for a moment, all you could hear was the faint rustle of Chris adjusting his laptop. He looked away, his jaw tense, and you felt the words building in your chest — words you’d been too scared to say for weeks right on the tip of your tongue.

It was now or never.

“Chris,” you began hesitantly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Can we… uhm - can we talk about us?” the words slipping past your lips felt like a burn on your own tongue.

His gaze snapped back to you, his expression guarded. “What about us?”

You hesitated, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. “I just… I feel like things have been different lately. At first, we were doing so well — texting all the time, FaceTiming every night. But now… I don’t know. It feels like we’re drifting apart.”

Chris’s brows furrowed at your words, his shoulders visibly tensing. “I’ve noticed it too,” he admitted after a pause. “I just didn’t know how to bring it up. I didn’t want to make things worse.”

You blinked, surprised by his honesty. “You didn’t think I’d feel the same?”

“I don’t know,” he said, running a hand through his curls. “I didn’t want to say anything and make you think I was doubting us or something. And I’m not. I love you. But this…” He gestured vaguely, his hand moving between him and the screen. “This is hard. Harder than I thought it’d be.”

The crack in his voice made your heart ache, but you nodded, tears stinging the corner of your eyes. “It is hard. I miss you so much, Chris. Some nights, it’s all I can think about — how empty this place feels without you here. And then I start wondering… what if we can’t do this? What if it’s too much?”

Chris’s eyes widened slightly, his panic evident. “Wait, are you saying you want to—”

“No!” you interrupted quickly, shaking your head. “No — Chris, that’s not what I mean. I just… I don’t know how to fix this. And I hate feeling like we’re not as close as we used to be.”

Chris let out a slow breath, his shoulders slumping. “I feel the same way,” he said quietly. “I hate that I can’t just drive over and see you when you’ve had a bad day. I hate that I can’t be there to hold you. And honestly… sometimes, I feel like I’m letting you down.”

“You’re not,” you said firmly, leaning closer to the screen. “Chris, you’re doing the best you can. We both are. But we need to be honest with each other if we’re going to make this work.”

He nodded slowly, his jaw tightening as he processed your words. “You’re right. I’ve been holding back because I didn’t want to make things worse, but… I guess that’s only made things harder. I’ve missed you so much, and it’s been killing me not to tell you how much I’ve been struggling with this.”

Tears now spilled down your cheeks, and you wiped them away quickly with your sleeve. “I’ve been struggling too. And I was scared to tell you because… what if it made you think I didn’t believe in us anymore? I do, Chris. I love you so much. I just… I didn’t know how to deal with all of this on my own.”

His expression softened, and he leaned closer to the camera, his voice gentle. “You don’t have to deal with it alone, okay? We’re in this together. And if that means being brutally honest about how much this sucks sometimes, then that’s what we’ll do.”

You laughed softly through your tears, nodding. “Deal. And… maybe we can try to plan our visits better. I need to see you, Chris. I think that’ll help a lot.” you whispered, feeling yourself ease up a little at the thought of him here — with you.

His lips quirked into a small smile. “Funny you should say that… I’ve been looking at flights to Boston. I was going to surprise you, but… maybe we need this sooner rather than later. I’ll come next month. No excuses.”

“Really?” you asked, your heart swelling with hope.

“Really,” he said, his smile growing. “I need to hold you again. And I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work.”

A weight lifted from your chest, and you smiled for what felt like the first time in weeks. “I’ll hold you to that,” you teased, your voice lighter.

Chris chuckled, the sound warming your heart. “I love you. And no matter how hard this gets, I’m not giving up on us. Ever.”

“I love you too,” you said softly. “And I promise… I’ll do everything I can to make this work too.”

It wasn’t a perfect solution, but it was a start. The rest of the night felt lighter — the ache in your chest still present but less. You both were more cheerful — joking around about random things and teasing him about how his hair was too messy — along with his room.

You smiled at your screen, watching as Chris did the same. His hand coming up to his lips and blowing you a kiss through the screen — and you blushed.

You’re just hoping that whatever was said tonight…was going to stick.

© strnilolover

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Just One Reason: Charity Case

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Lloyd Hansen

masterlist - to be added

Summary: A chance encounter at the sandwich shop doesn’t end how you expect.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You stand in the changing room, staring at the mirror, at yourself. Peppermint cloys on your tongue as you consider the dainty blue sweater. It isn’t your pick. Few of the clothing are. You can barely differentiate between the weaves and colours. 

“Well?” Lloyd calls from the other side of the thin barrier between you. 

You rarely used dressing rooms. You shop at the thrift shop, find whatever looks like it will fit, and go. Not that you even do that often. You’ve been wearing the same wardrobe of used pieces for years.  

You shift and touch the little frill along the collar. It frames your neckline prettily but it’s just too much. A nice strong cableknit with sleeves you can tuck your hands into and some corduroys are much more practical. 

“Come on, toots, I’m dying. You find anything you like?” He urges. 

You face the door and slide back the lock. You step out. The walls are lined with mirrors. Behind him, behind you, beside you, everywhere. You pinch the frilly hem as you bite your lip. 

“I don’t know...” you drawl. 

“Wowza, that’s cute,” he smiles from the bench. His hands are full as he holds both your lattes over his lap. “I like the colour. Be nice with a skirt.” 

“Skirt?” You mutter, “I don’t really...” 

“I grabbed a few, why don’t you try one on?” He prompts. 

You hesitate then shrug. You turn back and see yourself reflect on the door. You only notice then that the light weave clings to the outline of your bra. You quickly hide inside and shuffle through the many hangers.  

You don’t realise how short the skirt is until you get it on. The lace lining sticks out the bottom and four little bows decorate the cream material. It’s sophisticated in a way you aren’t. You sift through and find a top you think matches. 

You steel yourself before you emerge again. Lloyd’s impatience seeps through with a clearing of his throat. You step out and clutch your hands behind you, staring past him. 

“Wow,” he breathes, “that’s nice, tootsie, we’re definitely getting that.” 

“Oh, I don’t know about the white,” you sway, “it’ll get stained.” 

“I can’t believe I’m the one saying it but don’t be so pessimistic,” he chortles. 

“Sure, you’re right,” you agree quietly. “Well, still lots to go through.” 

You shuffle back into the change room, shivering at the rush of air that floods beneath the short hem of the skirt. You continue the tedious task of going through each and every piece. You can’t focus on any of it. You’re indifferent to even the nicest garment, things that you may have coveted in a clearer state of mind. 

Lloyd carries your haul to the counter after handing off the cups. His is empty and yours is cold. You put his in the bin near the desk as he pays. You look down, embarrassed. 

“Lloyd, you don’t--” 

“Sweetie, Merry Christmas,” he interrupts and smirks at the front desk lady. “Careful with that, don’t wrinkle it.” 

He might be nice to you but there’s those moments where he’s so... demanding. You wish he’d be a bit kinder to the people doing things for him. You offer the associate a sheepish smile then hide behind the cup. You taste the cold espresso and hover. 

Lloyd gathers up the bags and leads you back into the crowded mall. You drain half the cup and give up. You subtly toss it as you pass one of the many waste bins. 

“Well, you still need some basics,” he declares and glances at you, nudging you with his elbow, “you know, under-roos.” 

“Oh, uh, yeah...” 

“There’s a Victoria’s Secret right there.” 

“Victoria--” you gulp. “That’s fine, er, no, there’s probably somewhere else.” 

“Hello,” a woman calls as Lloyd struts towards the marquee of the lingerie store. “We’re having a promotion. You can spin the wheel and get a coupon.” 

You cringe and hide behind him. He spins and gets a coupon for thirty percent off. The woman is tall and her dark red hair is perfectly waved. She’s all in black that clings to her figure prettily. 

“Come on, tootsie roll,” Lloyd ushers you inside. The boutique is far too nice for you.  

You keep your arms crossed as Lloyd browses. He is unfazed by the crotchless lace and the sleek satin. You get to a table strewn with cotton thongs and thick-banded boyshorts. 

“You get the pick of the litter,” he declares, “you need a bra? Maybe six?” 

“Lloyd,” you murmur, “I don’t know...” 

“What’s your size?” He peeks at your chest then his brows pop up and he chuckles. “Sorry, just trying to help.” 

“Um, I wear... sport bras, so...” 

“Hmm, let me find...” He turns and strides off before he can finish his thought. 

You frown and look down. You see a nice pair of coral panties but when you turn them over, you find the have a narrow back. You just want your Walmart high-rise. You sniff and step out of the way of some other shoppers. 

“There she is,” Lloyd appears out of the crush, “Toots, this is Lara, she’s going to get you fitted.” 

“Fitted?” You utter. 

“Yeah, she can help measure you for your bra size--” 

“That’s okay--” 

“It’s five minutes,” Lara insists, “in the back.” 

“We want to get you something nice,” Lloyd argues, “don’t we? Get bang for our buck.” 

You don’t have it in you to resists. It’s nice. You’ve never bothered with anything like that. Everything you have just does the job. It doesn’t matter if it really fits, just if you can get it on. And everything you have is gone. You suspect his present is more charity than holiday cheer. 

Embarrassed, you nod and try to force a smile. Lara waves you toward the dressing room and Lloyd turns to peruse the table of panties. You cringe and drag your feet across the store. 

As you’re shut in with Lara, she has you take off your shirt. You’re uncomfortable as she measures you through your sport bra. It’s almost like a medical exam. 

“He’s really nice,” she says. 

“Hm?” You sniff. 

“Your boyfriend. Gonna be a really happy holiday,” she chimes. 

“Oh, he’s not...” you drone but don’t finish. 

“Husband?” She wonders. 

You shrug. You don’t bother explaining. You just want to get out of this place. All these strangers are making you dizzy. 

[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

[midnightshard06]

Sonic

Sonic grinned proudly. “Well Tails and me have been family for a long time now. Practically raised the kid myself heh. We’re close as you might expect. We also help keep each other in check. He, usually, keeps me from doing anything too reckless and I make sure he actually gets enough sleep and eats at least two meals a day.” He put his hands behind his head before a contemplative look came over his face. “If I have any blood related family out there I have no idea where they are. Not that I really care to find them anyway.” He put his hands down and shrugged. “Plus Shadow, and I guess Eclipse too, is in the picture now. Me and Shadow are on really good terms.” He chuckled. “Spending all that time helping him adjust to earth and doing my best to undo everything he’d been taught to think about himself helped with that. We’re… really close yeah.” A fond smile slipped onto his face for a moment before it slipped into a more cocky grin. “Eclipse is ok too. Fun to mess around with plus he makes a decent game partner when I can’t rope anyone else into it. He’s about just as competitive as me which makes it fun.”

Shadow

Shadow looked down for a moment before sighing. “Well not long after I was created I suppose I only considered Maria and perhaps Black Doom and some of the Black Arms my family. No one else at that point mattered to me. With Maria gone now though… well I find my family has expanded quite a bit. I think she would be happy to know that.” He cleared his throat. “Of course there is what is technically my biological family with Eclipse and the Black Arms. Eclipse is… a lot, but I am happy to have met him. Without his help I fear the confrontation with the Black Arms would have ended in tragedy. The Black Arms now look up to me like a leader, but I believe our relationship is positive.” He crossed his arms and scowled. “As for Black Doom… well he’s dead now so I suppose there’s not much of a point in speaking about him.” His ear twitched as his expression turned into something more neutral. “There’s also the Biolizard, which I suppose in a way could be considered my sibling as well. I… am doing my best to help them. Going back up to the Ark is hard though.”

His expression softened. “Then I suppose there’s Sonic and Tails. The two who took me in and took the time to help me.” He glanced around as if looking for something, or someone. “Sonic and I are very close. I admit I’m not sure what I would do without him at this point. His steady presence has helped me adapt much quicker I think. As well as realize some things.” He sighed. “Tails I’m far less close with but I still appreciate everything he’s done for me. I believe some of my lingering unease with the fox may be due to his connection with science. It… reminds me of the Ark. It’s something I’m working on though.”

Silver

“Oh! I’m really close with my family. Especially my parents.” Silver grinned. “I’m really grateful Sonic and Shadow decided to take me in when they found me all those years ago. It’s a little hard sometimes to get them to let me do things that might be dangerous, but I’ve been working on getting them to downplay their protective steaks for a while now.” He puffed his chest out. “Clearly it’s been working since they’ve let me start going to the past with Mephiles on a regular basis. Plus even before that they’d let me go out and scout the nearby ruins.” He tapped his chin. “There’s also uncle Eclipse. I don’t see him too often but Shadow likes to call him a bad influence on me. I think he’s fun.”

For characters!

If any of you have family, what's your family relationship like?

More character questions!!

[ghoulangerlee]

HERE WE GO. dewther phone sex that probably could have gone on for another six thousand words if I'd continued writing instead of forcing myself to end it :)

there is some lore-y stuff in here because I am not me if I don't include my own personal lore, and at the end there's mentions of heats and knotting but neither of those actually happen :)

Dew is a lil mean in this but as it turns out, Aether really likes em mean.

-

The phone rings, pulling him from the inventory reports in front of him—it's the desk phone of all things, not his cell that sits face down a little further away and for a moment, he thinks to ignore it, to continue his work so he can finish quicker and get to bed sooner, but at the late hour it could be some kind of emergency— 

He picks it up, balancing his pen in his other hand as he cradles the desk phone between his ear and shoulder, “Infirmary, this is Aether speaking, how can I help you?”  

There’s silence on the line for a moment and Aether tilts his head, “Hello? Is someone there?”  

A sigh, familiar in its tone echoes across the line, “Hey Aeth,” Dew mumbles, sounding tired, “Didn’t know if you’d still be awake.”  

Aether glances up at the clock across the room, the hands ticking by slowly, it’s late, much later than he’d expected, “Ah,” he says, “I was finishing up some inventory reports in the infirmary, some new guy decided to double the amount of gauze we need so now we’re swimming in it but don’t have any more antibiotics,” he glances down at the papers in front of him, red lines crossed through black numbers, “Been down here most of the day counting things to get everything right again.”  

Dew hums, a pleased little sound, “I like hearing you talk about the work you do,” he says, tone bordering on that sappy-tired one he gets whenever he’s worked to the bone and sleepy, “I miss you.”  

“I miss you too,” Aether murmurs with a small smile, leaning back in his chair and focusing all of his attention on Dew, “How is guard duty with Frater Imperator?” he asks, a brief flash of worry catching him.  

“He’s safe,” Dew says, yawns widely over the line, “A little annoyed by the travel, a lot annoyed that there may still be something or someone after him despite everything,” he’s candid about it, and if Aether closes his eyes, he can almost see Dew sitting in front of him, waving a lazy hand in emphasis as he speaks. “Of course, we’re doing fine, this other church is okay, a little drafty and the ghouls here don’t really speak, but I guess it’s fine for a little while. The elders keep giving me dirty looks when they think Copia isn’t watching though.”  

A pang of regret goes through him, he’d almost went with Dew and Copia, but something had come up in the infirmary, someone had fallen ill and he’d been the best person to fill in, he wishes he were there with Dew right now. ���Sounds exciting,” he says, “A little draft isn’t too much for a fire ghoul, right?” he asks teasingly, feeling the tension of the day fade the longer he speaks to Dew.  

“Cold day in Hell that a puny little church with an annoying clergy bothers me enough to make me leave early,” Dew says with a snort, “I wanted to talk to you though, time differences suck. We’re on different continents and everything so I can’t even really feel you right now either.”  

Aether gets it, he can feel the way his bond with Dew is weakened, barely there, dormant in the distance between them—in the back of his mind he can still feel him, but it’s a far cry from the usual. “I know, wisp,” he murmurs, “I wish we were closer too,” he admits, “Church is quiet without you here.”  

“Copia was giving me shit earlier,” Dew admits after a few moments of silence, “Said I looked sad, like someone stole something from me,” he pauses, clears his throat, “Told me to come call you, that you’d probably be up working still even at the late hour.”  

“He was right,” Aether says with a little laugh, “Not that he has any room to talk about what is and isn’t late,” he continues, and then glances up at the ceiling, “Are you still sad?” he asks cheekily, lazily spinning his chair to the side, “Do you need me to talk to you so you can fall asleep?”  

He means it as a joke, but there’s a serious undercurrent there, something they’d discovered before Copia’s lateral move, when Dew had toured but Aether stayed behind—sometimes, sometimes his brain wouldn’t let him sleep, not alone, and he’d call Aether, listen to the quintessence ghoul talk until his eyes grew heavy and he fell into a comfortable sleep—imagining his mate right there beside him.  

Dew hums lazily, “Maybe,” he starts, but this time, there’s something of a breathless quality to his voice, “Or maybe I want to talk to you about other things.”  

It takes Aether a moment, if he focuses hard enough, he can hear something on the other line, a slick sound, a hitch in Dew’s breathing, “Is this a booty call?” he can’t help but ask, the words spilling out before he can stop it, “Dew are you—” he cuts himself off, presses his palm against the bottom of the phone and glances around the office.  

It’s late, of course, and the door isn’t locked, but he’s the only one down here right now, having sent the rest of the staff off, only keeping a bare bones support staff in case of emergencies, but he can’t sense anyone else.  

“I am working,” Aether finally says, lowering his hand, feeling a flush come up the sides of his neck, “If someone were to walk into my office, they’d—”  

“They’d what?” Dew asks sharply, the hitch in his voice making it obvious what he’s doing, “They’d think you were on the phone, right, baby? That you’re working late, working so hard for everyone, making sure the inventory reports are all correct. You’re not doing something silly like touch yourself, are you? You’re on the phone and you’re working diligently.”  

Aether grits his teeth, pressing a fist hard into his thigh, “I’m not touching myself,” he says, and looks down at his desk again, numbers taunting him on the page, “I’ve stopped working for the moment to talk to you,” he inhales deeply, bites his lip when he hears Dew moan quietly over the line.  

“You’re being such a good boy,” Dew murmurs the praise, praise that shoots right down to Aether’s core, “I’m going to touch myself and you’re going to listen to me and keep working, aren’t you?”  

Aether bites harder at his lower lip, tilting his head back against the chair, “I am,” he finally agrees, after a long moment of listening to Dew breathe heavily, the slick sounds of his hand.  

Dew waits for a moment, almost as if he’s aware that Aether’s not working, waits for minutes until Aether sits up, scoots his chair forward and picks his pen back up, “If I were there with you, I’d situate myself under your desk,” he purrs, words going a bit high on the end. “You’d be a busy body about it, complain about me distracting you but we both know you want me to.”  

Aether digs the pen into the paper in front of him, keeping his gaze trained on the numbers on the page and he hums a little, “You are good at being a little shit sometimes,” he says, trying to keep his tone casual.  

A laugh, breathless and the slick sounds seem to get louder, “Uh huh,” he agrees, “I am, but you love me like that, you love when I push your buttons. Take you down a peg, big guy.” Dew grunts a little and Aether can only imagine that he’s fucking up into his fist, “You turn to putty in my hands the second I get my mouth on you,” he breathes.  

“Lies,” Aether says, trying to keep his voice firm as he presses his legs together, “You’re just running your mouth.”  

Dew swears softly, “Aether,” he moans out, “Strong words for the guy who begged me to fuck him right before I left,” he teases, and Aether feels hot under the collar when he thinks about it, how desperate he had been for Dew’s dick. “It’s okay big guy, I love when you fall apart for me, when you can barely speak because you’re so dick drunk,” he coos, “Thinking about how your skin’s so cold, but every time I get inside you, you heat up like a fire ghoul,” he teases, “Like I’m branding you from the inside out, isn’t that right baby, you’re all mine and no one can fuck you as good as I can.”  

Aether squeezes the pen in his hand tight enough that he can hear the plastic creaking, “Dew,” he says sharply, but doesn’t speak beyond that, knows if he says anything else he’s going to make a fool of himself, he’s going to start babbling about how much he wishes Dew were here now, down under his desk, mouth on him, making him come.  

As the silence stretches between them, Dew moans again, this time higher, another swear, the steady creak of bedsprings, little ah, ah, ahs falling from his lips as he does, “Say something sweet for me baby,” he finally says, breathless and oh so close. “Let me hear your gorgeous voice, tell me what you want me to do for you, baby.”  

And oh Dew’s begging now, desperate in the same way he gets when they’re together, even when he’s being mean and teasing Aether—when he’s close, when he just needs a bit more to come.  

The pen clatters to the desk and Aether’s quick to shove his hand down the front of his scrubs, so glad he’d opted for them instead of the stuffy slacks he normally wore when on administration duties, “I want your mouth on me,” he finally admits, “Wanna fuck your face while you wait under the desk for me to finish working,” he manages to get out, moans when his fingers meet his dick, stroking over it quickly. “Want you to put a couple of fingers inside me, something for me to squeeze around,” he swallows heavily, tilts his head back against the chair as he arches his hips up into his own touch, imagining the heat of Dew’s mouth around him, “I feel so empty, firelight,” he admits, voice breaking a little as he does, pants out in the open, “Feels so empty when you’re away, want you to carve a place inside me and never leave.”  

Dew swears again, louder, a litany of fucks falling from his lips and Aether thinks he comes, thinks if he focuses hard enough he can feel it, the heat of it inside him, that maybe their distance is driving him a bit mad with how much he misses him.  

“Come for me baby,” Dew’s voice, rough with his orgasm, fills Aether’s ears, draws a sharp gasp out of him as he clenches around nothing and comes, goes completely breathless with it as he continues to touch himself until he’s too sensitive and he has to pull his hand away though it doesn’t go far, arm falling limp between his thighs once his hand is free from his scrub pants.  

It takes a while for his heart to settle down, for his breathing to fall under control again and he allows it, floats there as he wishes that Dew were here with him right now, a warm weight between his legs, fire all down his chest and stomach as he cradles him close, chasing away the chill that always falls over Aether after coming.  

“—ay we’re going to be back tomorrow, we’ve done all the ground work here, anyway, the rest is just boring admin work that can be done over Doom meetings.” Dew’s murmuring when he comes back into focus, “As soon as I see you baby, I’m going to get my hands all over you just like you deserve,” he promises, filthy and low in his ear, “Gonna have you coming so much you’ll be satisfied for days.”  

Aether hums, interested when his brain catches on the first part, still mostly focused on the second half of Dew’s words, “Tomorrow?” he asks, hating the way his voice sounds so hopeful.  

Fuck, it’d been weeks though, since he’d last seen Dew. Since they’d been together. He misses him.  

“Yeah, baby,” Dew murmurs, “Our plane landed a bit ago, we’re at a hotel for the night, but Copia’s got a car coming to get us in the morning. We’ll be home before you know it.”  

Aether makes another noise, something choked, “Oh,” he says, looks down at the paper on the desk in front of him, half-finished inventory reports, “I’ve got to—”  

“Whatever it is, it can wait,” Dew says firmly, “You’ve got tomorrow off and maybe the day after, Copia’s feeling a bit benevolent,” he says that with a bit of a grin in his voice, “Inventory will be fine for a couple of days, besides, Copia said he’d work on whatever you didn’t finish, just leave it where you’ve got it and he’ll take over. No arguing with me, alright?”  

And well, Aether can’t argue, because he’s feeling a bit selfish, a bit like he wants to shirk his duties for a few days so he can spend time with Dew instead, something warm settling in the pit of his stomach. “Okay,” he settles on, feels the weight lifted off of his shoulders at the word as he leans back in the chair, making it squeak a bit under his weight.  

“Good boy,” Dew says sweetly, “Now, listen, I want you to hang up the phone and go get cleaned up, settle in our bed and before you know it, I’ll be there, waking you up with a kiss.”  

Aether thinks about his nest, the one he’d been working on since Dew had left, how it still smells like the two of them and how much he wants to be there now, “Okay, yeah,” he says, “I can do that.” He swallows, bites his lip, “I love you, Dew.”  

Dew hums softly, “I love you too, big guy, I’ll see you tomorrow, bright and early.”  

When he hangs up the phone, it’s with warm feelings, and as he levers himself up out of the chair, he feels like he’s floating.  

He grabs his phone, scrolling through the few notifications that he has, there’s a couple of text messages that he’s not too concerned with answering tonight, another text from Dew that’s just a heart emoji and then a singular calendar notification.  

Aether raises an eyebrow but thinks nothing of it at first, locks up the office and deposits the key in the safe box for another staff member to find before he heads up from the infirmary and to his and Dew’s bedroom.  

Once he’s showered and settled into bed, wearing only his underwear and a thin t-shirt that used to be Dew’s at one point and is entirely too short on Aether and stretched out the from the number of times he’s squeezed into it, he picks his phone up again.  

Taps the calendar notification and blinks at the entry that had been added recently.  

Mandatory Leave 10.26 - 11.3 – Accepted by F. Imperator  

There’s a text, one that had come in while he was in the shower, from Copia this time.  

Dew may be a little grumpy in the morning, our car arrives in three hours to pick us up, we’ll be back before your heat starts. The others have stocked your room while you were working and I’ve taken the opportunity to clear your schedule for the next week just in case. Let me know if there’s anything you need <3  

He feels a surge of affection, sends back a heart in response and takes a moment to take stock of himself, feels the low simmer of something that had been bothering him for a while, something gnawing at him the entire time he’d been without Dew—and he didn’t think that it was heat, thought it was just something happening because Dew had been away for so long. His mind races a bit, wonders why his heat had decided to show now of all times—  

His phone buzzes again, a text from Dew.  

Go to sleep, Aeth. I can feel you thinking from all the way out here. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.  

He huffs quietly, sends back a fuck you and a heart a moment later, almost immediately, another text comes through.  

Of course, big boy, anything you need. I’ll even let you knot me if you want <3  

[aventurineswife]

Hi! Im a new anon who stumble upon your work recently. (I love it btw!) Can I request this scenario for the obey me fandom?

Imagine the MC is (or was) married in the human realm. However the brothers realized that the MC’s spouse is VERY attractive (Like if the spouse was Gojo Satoru). How do you think they would react with the news?

A Bit Of Jealousy

Tags: Lucifer x Reader, Mammon x Reader, Leviathan x Reader, Satan x Reader, Asmodeus x Reader, Beelzebub x Reader, Belphegor x Reader, Jealousy, Humor, Lighthearted Fluff, Possessiveness, Insecurity, Self-Doubt, Teasing.

Warnings: Some possessive and teasing behavior, mild jealousy, occasional insecurity (mostly comedic), discussions about past relationships, lighthearted humor.

A/N: HELLO AND WELCOME! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR KIND WORDS – I’M GLAD YOU’VE ENJOYED MY WORK! IT REALLY MEANS A LOT!! 🤭💖🫶

Lucifer stood with his arms crossed, his sharp gaze fixed on you, as if contemplating something rather than merely listening. It had been some time since you'd mentioned your past life in the human realm, but this new detail had caught his attention.

"I had no idea your ex-husband was… that handsome." Lucifer’s tone was neutral, but the slight narrowing of his eyes betrayed a flicker of something else.

You couldn’t help but chuckle. "It’s not like I married him for his looks," you said, trying to downplay it. "He had other qualities that mattered."

The eldest brother’s expression remained composed, though you could see the tension in his jaw. He was used to being the most capable, the most desired, and the thought that someone else—someone so undeniably attractive—had captured your heart before him stirred a slight discomfort within him.

"You’re saying I wouldn’t have stood a chance?" he asked, his voice dangerously smooth, though a subtle irritation lingered.

You smiled teasingly. "Lucifer, you’re far too full of yourself. Besides, you’re the one I’m with now, aren’t you?"

Lucifer’s gaze softened, and with a possessive gesture, he pulled you closer, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, "You’re lucky I’m still allowing you to be with such an inferior man."

Mammon’s jaw dropped, his eyes nearly bugging out of his head. "Wait, wait, what? Your ex-husband was that good-looking?!" His face turned a deep shade of red as he paced frantically, tugging at his hair. "How the hell did someone like him end up with ya?!"

You rolled your eyes but couldn't suppress your amusement. "Mammon, it wasn't just about looks."

Mammon, the Avatar of Greed, shrank slightly, as if trying to come to terms with the idea that he might not measure up. "Well, The Great Mammon is way better than some human, right?" he muttered, but the lack of his usual bravado made it clear that he was internally battling his insecurities.

You walked over, resting a hand on his shoulder. "You know you're amazing in your own way, Mammon. It’s not about competing with anyone."

He grumbled under his breath, still clearly unsure of himself. "Yeah, yeah. Guess I’ll just have to show ya why I’m the better pick."

Leviathan froze, his eyes going wide in disbelief. "Wait, wait—that guy?!" His voice wavered, and his face flushed a deep shade of crimson as he processed the revelation. "You were married to him? That’s like… the ultimate level-up in real life! He must’ve been like some kind of rare, super rare character from a game or something!"

You blinked, surprised by his immediate reaction. "You know who he is?"

Leviathan fidgeted nervously, his excitement quickly mixed with insecurity. "O-of course I know him! He's everywhere, with that... unbeatable vibe, and he’s always so confident. I—I don’t think I could ever be like that..." He looked down, voice cracking slightly. "I mean... why would you marry someone like him when you could’ve had a shy, awkward guy who spends all his time gaming, not that I’d have had a chance or anything..."

You raised an eyebrow. "You think he’s that good-looking?"

Leviathan’s cheeks flushed deep red, his fingers fumbling awkwardly with his game controller as if it were a lifeline. "W-Well, yeah... I mean, how can I compete with that?" He mumbled, his voice laced with a mix of frustration and self-doubt. "He’s like... a living anime character, with that whole ‘cool, untouchable’ vibe... I’m just an otaku, surrounded by figurines and my games!" He sighed, slouching in his seat as his eyes dropped to the floor. "Guess I don’t stand a chance, huh?"

You chuckled and patted his head. "Levi, you have your own charm, don't worry."

He mumbled a soft "thanks," his cheeks still tinged pink, as he returned to his game, likely pondering his own appearance in a whole new light.

Satan raised an eyebrow at the news, his usually calm demeanor remaining composed as he closed his book. "I see," he mused, his eyes gleaming with curiosity. "It’s no surprise that someone of his appearance would catch your eye."

You tilted your head. "What does that mean?"

Satan leaned back in his chair, folding his arms behind his head. "It means that while his appearance may be striking, I’ve always known you to be a bit more discerning when it comes to your tastes." His smile was teasing, but there was something more beneath it.

"Jealous, Satan?" you teased.

He smirked, but his eyes flickered with an almost imperceptible hint of rivalry. "Jealousy implies that I feel threatened." His voice lowered, a bit darker. "But I do wonder if someone like him could match my charm… or my intellect."

You raised an eyebrow. "Planning to challenge him?"

Satan didn’t answer immediately, his smile growing more enigmatic. "Perhaps. It might be amusing to test whether he could truly hold a candle to someone like me."

The moment you mentioned your ex-husband, Asmodeus gasped dramatically, his hands flying to his face. "Oh my goodness, you were married to him?!" His eyes sparkled with a mix of excitement and fascination. "Tell me everything! His skincare routine, his hair—how is he so perfect?!" He practically swooned, his voice rising in pitch with every word.

You chuckled, a bit amused by his over-the-top reaction. "I think it's just natural for him." you said, trying to deflect the question.

Asmodeus’s eyes grew wider. "You’re telling me he’s that perfect without even trying?! Oh my, I’m in love with him already!" He threw his head back, letting out a dramatic sigh.

You rolled your eyes, laughing. "You can't just fall for someone based on their looks, Asmo."

He flashed you a playful grin. "Well, darling, you’ve clearly got exquisite taste. But between you and me, I’m still the real star here, aren’t I?"

You laughed again, shaking your head. "You never change."

Beel stared at you for a long moment, clearly trying to process the information. "So… he really was that good-looking?" Beel asked, his voice calm, though there was a note of genuine curiosity in it.

You nodded. "Yeah, he was."

Beel scratched his head thoughtfully. "Well, if you’re with me now, then I guess he must not have been perfect for you." He said it so simply, almost like a statement of fact.

"Exactly," you said, smiling warmly at him. "There’s more to someone than just looks."

Beel smiled back, his expression content. "I’m glad you feel that way."

Belphie barely reacted when you mentioned your ex-husband. His voice remained lazy, but his smirk hinted at his amusement. "So, your ex was that attractive, huh?" He yawned, stretching casually. "Guess he doesn’t compare to me."

You raised an eyebrow. "Are you comparing yourself to a human?"

Belphegor’s smirk deepened. "I’m not comparing. Just stating the facts. But if he was that perfect, I’ve got my work cut out for me."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help but laugh at his arrogance. "You never change, do you?"

Belphegor stretched out comfortably, flashing you a lazy grin. "Of course not. But in case you forgot, I’m the only one who matters to you now."

[stephiramona]

The tale of two cities according to Heiko and Stephi - Part 500

Unbelievable! This is the 500th part of our "Tales"! So Heiko and I thought that something special was needed.

But first of all, we want to thank you. You are fantastic, and without you and your comments, this wouldn't have been the same.

In the past years we have visited each other a few times, and this week we both wrote something about what we think the biggest differences of our hometowns are.

Let's start with Heiko's text and the photo (the first one) he took in Munich:

Today is our 500th Tale, which is pretty unbelievable. Yet, I admit that we are repeating ourselves a lot when it comes to the seasons (watch our for Christmas time) and we might even have repeated ourselves in some subjects. Still, we are doing the Tales for almost 10 years, a feat neither Stephi nor myself would have ever thought we would accomplish.

We also visited the other person’s city a couple of times and there are some differences about them. Picking out one, I would say that Munich is just bigger and you really need some time to explore the city. It just looked vaster to me. It seemed that you always need e tram or train to get to another spot. In Cologne, on one of Stephi’s trip, we went on foot and within a couple of hours I was able to show her the heart of the city with some of the most important places. I admit that if we took a tram, we would have been able to see other spots as well that are not in the center but more on the fringes, but you can spend a couple of days in Cologne by foot and see a lot of great and important places. I never had that feeling in Munich as the tourist attractions and other cool places were further apart.

Basically, you can spend a day in Cologne and see a lot of the city. I don’t think that would have been able in Munich. Yet, it’s well worth to spend more days in Cologne and go into some local pubs to get to know the people of the city and it’s flair. That will pass you by when you are only in the center that is usually crowded with tourists.

Another difference are the temperatures I experienced. Today it was cold and windy in Cologne. But I have never felt temperatures like on that trip in January 2017. That was cold and could have served as my own personal hell.

My picture from Munich is from that cold January trip and I am trying to show the vastness of the city.

Other things are petty similar though. I have seen some cool parks in Munich in which people hang out. The same is true for Cologne.

Since I spend most time with Stephi and Pete (and Fern on one trip), I didn’t get know other people from Munich. But according to Stephi, the people are pretty cool and open minded, other than the impression you get from Bavarian’s politicians and the way people vote. Cologne also praises itself for being open minded and I usually find that to be true.

I could probably go on for a while but I still want to thank you for sticking with us, reading our Tales and responding from time to time. I rarely respond but I really do appreciate your comments and feedback, read and enjoy it. Thank you all very much.

Now to my text and the photo I took in Cologne:

I think, Cologne and Munich are both great but very different cities. During my visits to Cologne, I was most impressed by the cathedral and the river Rhine. We inhabitants of Munich love our cathedral but - if I'm honest - the "Frauenkirche" isn't very impressive. At least not as impressive as the "Kölner Dom". Munich has a sweet little river, the Isar. It's nice for swimming and for spending some quality time. The river Rhine is way bigger and more impressive, but it's not a good idea to swim in it. I guess, you can't have everything. In my opinion, both rivers belong to the highlights of our respective hometowns, but in a different way.

Munich is close to the mountains and has beautiful surroundings. If you ever visit Munich you should take the time to visit the surroundings as well. Munich and Cologne look very different but the biggest differences for me are the people. When I was in Cologne, I found the citizens so nice, and refreshing, funny, and honest. During my first visit to Cologne, I took a taxi and the taxi driver wasn't only funny, he even wanted to share his breaktime snack with me and offered some radishes. I can't imagine something like that happening in Munich. Munich's citizens are more stiff and not as open as the ones of Cologne are.

Have you ever visited both cities? What do you think are the most differences of our hometowns?