#THE ONE AFTER THAT IS BARELY IN EXISTENCE

[caitlinsnicket]

jinx relationship headcanons

warnings: there's some nfsw but it's almost clinical, the usual dark-ish jinx stuff that always comes with her

a/n: guys don't worry she's alive and well here in my house she's actually taking a nap, we're gonna have dinner later

masterlist | 🍉 | ko-fi

She often forgets to take care of herself: makeup stays on her face for days, her hair becomes matted and dirty at the ends, and her hands are dusty with chipped nail polish.

So you like to take care of her—helping her wash her hair (it really is a two-person job these days), gently washing her face, and making sure she's thoroughly clean before letting her go to bed or even hug you.

And in these moments, when she smells cleaner than she has in years and her hair feels so light she could fly, there are no voices, no buzzing, no sound. There’s just peace and this sense that she could actually have things like these—normal moments and casual actions with you. Most importantly, that she deserves them.

She's sitting in a loose white shirt, eyes closed, humming a song that's been stuck in her head for days. You're behind her, humming along as you brush her long locks. When you're done, you inch closer, placing your hands on her shoulders and start kissing her: first the top of her head, then her forehead when she leans to look at you, followed by her nose. Finally, you pepper kisses across her whole face before pulling back to grab something else for her hair.

She turns to look at you, her eyes dreamy and shiny, her heart beating fast. There’s a small smile on her face.

After that, you both cling to each other on her enormous bed. She switches positions every few moments—from laying her head on your chest, to being the small spoon, to the big spoon, to just fully lying on top of you and burying her face in your neck. She's unusually quiet in those moments, as if she's recharging.

Sometimes, she might talk about her feelings—the ones she doesn’t understand yet and the ones she knows are bad—and she’s thankful you don’t judge her.

Other times, she might just want to jump your bones, thinking it’s an equivalent “thank you” for taking care of her. It takes her a while to understand that she doesn’t have to pay you back for your affection.

There are also moments when you help build her back up: putting makeup on her face again or braiding her hair, carefully working through knots to avoid pulling too hard.

The biggest problem is her staring. You've tried talking her out of it so many times, but while you paint her face or fix her hair, she just stares at you, unblinking.

Sometimes, she starts frowning, taking all of you in. Occasionally, she'll pull back unintentionally, her chest too full of feelings she doesn’t yet understand.

You ask if she's okay, and she responds with a snarky comment, building up her walls again. But eventually, she relaxes into your touch, letting you continue.

It’s actually really hard for her to relax most of the time.

For example, she never fully lets go when the two of you are intimate. Sometimes, while you're eating her out, you catch her staring at you, laser-focused, as if waiting for you to hurt her. “Sorry, toots. Got lost again. But that feels good, so keep going,” she’ll say, laying back against the pillows as if nothing happened.

You used to get really worried and stop altogether, but those dissociative episodes have become fewer and fewer as she gets healthier.

Dancing is something you do almost daily, though it’s not really dancing at this point—it’s just rocking heads, jumping around, and holding each other while spinning.

On rare occasions, you’ll slow dance. She’ll put her feet on top of yours, and the two of you will barely move in circles in the middle of the bedroom. In those moments, she’s as happy as she can be, just existing with you.

You also love annoying her by whispering bad jokes in her ear until she stops whatever tinkering she’s doing because she’s too busy laughing.

Then, she’ll tickle you until you’re crying, cussing you out for saying all that nonsense to her.

[thesecondhandwoman]

ISHA’S DEATH

Sevika x fem!reader

Summary: Sevika is devastated after learning that Isha, the young girl Jinx had found and whom Sevika had grown close to, died sacrificing herself to protect Jinx during a violent incident. Stricken with guilt and grief, Sevika crumbles, unable to cope with the loss, especially since she wasn’t there when it happened. In a rare moment of vulnerability, Sevika falls apart in your arms, desperately needing comfort.

The news came like a thunderstorm on a clear day.

Sevika had always been the one who was prepared for anything, the one who could take on a hundred enemies without flinching, the one who could shoulder any burden, no matter how heavy. But this news—this thing—was different. It wasn’t a fight. It wasn’t a betrayal. It wasn’t something that could be punched out of existence.

It was a loss. A cruel, senseless loss.

Isha. The little girl Jinx had found when she was barely more than a whisper of herself, a non-verbal, rebellious spark of defiance that had found a home in the chaos of the world they lived in. Isha, the one Sevika had grown attached to, who had wormed her way into her heart with her unspoken resilience and her quiet, yet unwavering loyalty.

And now she was gone.

Sevika stood at the doorway, her broad frame framed by the dim light outside, looking like she had just been struck by a physical blow. Her eyes were wide, unseeing, staring at the floor as if it could give her the answers she needed. Her normally composed expression was gone, replaced by something raw, something wild, as if she was trying to process the unthinkable.

You had heard the whispers long before she walked through the door—gossip, rumors, half-truths—but you had hoped, prayed that it wasn’t true. That Isha was still out there, laughing her silent laugh, running circles around Jinx as they always did.

But when Sevika had stepped into the apartment, her face a mask of disbelief, you knew.

You knew that the storm was finally here.

“Sevika…” you whispered, your voice a tentative thread of concern. You had never seen her like this.

Sevika didn’t answer, and you knew she wouldn’t. She wasn’t the type to speak when words could never be enough. You approached her slowly, your heart pounding, unsure of what to do, how to comfort her when the hurt was so vast, so endless.

Her eyes met yours, and you felt your breath catch in your throat. They were empty. There was no fire in them, no hardness, no walls. Only a hollow, vast emptiness that swallowed everything in its path.

“Isha’s dead,” Sevika rasped, her voice thick, hoarse, and cracking. “She… she died saving Jinx. I wasn’t there. I wasn’t there… and she’s dead.”

The words didn’t feel real, not in the way they should. Isha was a kid, a girl who had barely started her life, a girl who’d found something like family in the wreckage of their broken world.

The details were hazy, but you had heard enough—an accident. A violent break-out. A sacrifice.

She had stepped in front of Jinx.

You felt the ground beneath you tilt. Isha had always been so quiet, so protective in her own way, but you hadn’t thought of her being so… brave. To protect someone with her life, someone who meant everything to her… to her family. You knew how much Sevika had cared for Isha—she had never said it aloud, but in the quiet moments, when Jinx was distracted or the others were fighting, Sevika had been the one to watch over the girl.

The one who tried to fill the space that had been left when everything had fallen apart.

You reached out instinctively, your hand brushing the sleeve of Sevika’s jacket, but she flinched away as if your touch was too much, too soon. It was like she couldn’t breathe, like the air had thickened and pressed against her chest.

“I wasn’t there,” she repeated, this time with more anguish, her voice cracking under the weight of guilt and helplessness. “I wasn’t there. I should’ve been there. I should’ve—”

Her voice broke on the last word, and before you could stop her, Sevika dropped to her knees. You rushed to her side, your heart in your throat, but she was already shaking. Not violently, but with that quiet tremble that comes before something breaks.

“I should’ve been there,” Sevika whispered again, almost to herself, her hands gripping the floor like she was trying to anchor herself to something solid, something real. “I promised… I promised I’d protect her.”

You knelt beside her, your arms reaching out to her cautiously. You weren’t sure if she wanted comfort, if she wanted anything from you at all. But when she didn’t pull away, you wrapped your arms around her, pulling her into your chest, pressing her face to your neck, the warmth of her breath sending a chill through your body.

Her hands clenched at the fabric of your shirt, like she was trying to hold on to something that wasn’t slipping away. Her body trembled against yours, and the soft sobs that had been building inside her finally spilled out in a quiet, guttural sound.

“I couldn’t protect her,” Sevika gasped, her voice trembling with frustration and sorrow. “I wasn’t there when she needed me. I wasn’t there when she gave herself up. I couldn’t… I didn’t—”

You shushed her gently, running your fingers through her hair, pressing her closer to you. You knew the words wouldn’t heal the wound, not now, not with what had happened. But you also knew that she needed to feel something besides the crushing weight of guilt and helplessness.

“She knew you loved her, Sevika,” you whispered, your voice soft but firm. “She knew you would’ve been there if you could. She knew you would’ve died for her. She knew.”

Sevika’s sobs deepened, her body going limp against yours as she let go of the dam she had been holding inside. She clung to you like a lifeline, her tears soaking your neck, her breath ragged and uneven. She wasn’t just mourning Isha’s death. She was mourning her own inability to protect the one person who had needed her the most, who had trusted her the most.

“I failed her,” Sevika whispered through the tears. “I failed her like I failed everything. I failed them all.”

“No,” you said softly, your hand pressing against the back of her head, guiding her gently back to look at you. “No, you didn’t. You’ve been there for them, for Jinx, for everyone. You can’t save everyone, Sevika. Not all of them.”

The words felt empty, but you couldn’t find any better way to express the helplessness that had settled over you both. The truth was, there was no right way to console someone in the face of such loss. You couldn’t bring Isha back. You couldn’t undo the past.

But you could hold Sevika. You could hold her as she crumbled in your arms.

“I’m here,” you murmured, your voice steady despite the heartbreak you felt inside. “I’m here, Sevika. You’re not alone in this. You’re not alone.”

It wasn’t much, but it was all you had to give. And, in that moment, it had to be enough.

So, you stayed there with Sevika, cradling her in your arms as her sobs slowly began to taper off into quiet, exhausted whimpers. The weight of her grief still pressed down on her like a suffocating storm, but her tears had slowed, the brokenness of it all sinking deeper into her bones.

She didn’t speak anymore—just leaned into you, her breath shallow and uneven, her body trembling in your arms as if she couldn’t quite shake the agony of the moment.

There was no magic cure for the pain she felt. No comforting words that would ever be enough to erase the guilt and loss clawing at her heart. Isha was gone, and no amount of regret could bring her back.

Still, you kept holding her. One hand pressed against her back, the other running through her hair in slow, soothing strokes. It wasn’t much, but it was the only thing you could offer—your presence, your warmth, and the unwavering understanding that she didn’t have to shoulder this alone.

You could feel her exhaustion seeping through her, the weight of everything finally wearing her down, and slowly, very slowly, her body relaxed. The tense shuddering of her muscles eased, her sobs becoming faint little gasps. You shifted slightly, adjusting your position to support her more comfortably, but she didn’t pull away.

You kept your voice quiet, just barely a whisper, speaking into the quiet space between you both. “It’s okay to rest now, Sevika. You’ve been holding on for so long… it’s okay.”

Her only response was a small, broken exhale, and then, finally, her body went completely limp in your arms. She was still—completely still—and her breath became deeper, more regular, as if sleep had finally claimed her.

The tears had stopped, leaving only the softest trace of salt on your skin. You felt her weight, the heaviness of her heartbreak, resting on you as she slept. Her face was peaceful for the first time in what felt like forever, though the faintest shadow of pain still lingered in her features.

You didn’t want to move. You didn’t want to disturb her. Sevika, the fighter, the protector, was finally letting herself fall apart, and for the first time, she was allowing herself to be weak, to be human. The woman who could take on the world had crumbled into your arms, and though it tore your heart to pieces, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of tenderness toward her in that moment.

You stayed with her, as the hours passed, your body still aching from the grief you couldn’t fix. But as Sevika slept, the sound of her breath steadying in the crook of your neck, you realized something. She had needed this, even if she couldn’t admit it. Even if she hadn’t known she needed it. She had needed to break, needed to feel the comfort of being held in someone else’s arms, to know she didn’t have to be strong all the time.

And so, you stayed.

The night passed, and time seemed to lose meaning as you sat there, holding Sevika as she slept. Her heartbeat had slowed, her face now softened in sleep, and despite everything—the tragedy, the pain, the emptiness—you felt a quiet hope bloom inside you.

Tomorrow, you would help her heal. It wouldn’t happen quickly, and it wouldn’t be easy, but together, you would find a way to carry the weight of this loss.

For now, you just held her.

And in the stillness of the night, as the world outside seemed to hold its breath, you wished you could make the ache in her heart disappear. But for tonight, you could only be there, as she rested, utterly broken—but not alone.

[vaguely-concerned]

just had the thought 'in the end the most important thing varric taught rook was how to make a home for, with, and in other people' and then I had to go lie down on the floor and clutch at my head in unceasing agony for a few hours, as you may well imagine. hawke and the kirkwall crew........ in the end you kind of saved the world a bit in the most characteristically indirect and chaotic of ways. not by anything in particular that you did or achieved or accomplished (lmao imagine!), but just by -- having existed, and by the love that was always there, despite it all, in all its imperfections, even when no one was saved by it in the end. you're not here right now and you're not quite haunting the narrative but I hear your voices bickering and arguing and laughing from the other room. (and so, I think, does varric. all the time.)

'did you think you mattered, hawke? did you think anything you ever did mattered?' yeah actually, varric says with da2 and keeps saying through the series. you were here. and I loved you. and as it turns out that mattered more than almost anything in the world, no matter how long it lasted or how fucked up it was at the time or what else happens, because varric manages to pass that feeling, that intangible... home, that echo of you all as you were together, that love, hopefully the best parts of it, on to someone else for them to bring with them on their journey, with their family. and maybe the world will be kinder this time. you never know. merrill's line of 'Everything affects everything. We were born, a bunch of things happened, and now we're in a mess with our friends.' varric's greatest fear of becoming his parents. even through the wreck and the ruin of the world, ghosts upon ghosts upon ghosts of love -- malcolm hawke, who we never even see, but his life touched hawke's and hawke's touched varric's and varric's touched rook's and rook is passing it on to the family they're creating. the unbroken legacy of love shines through in ways that are stronger and stranger than any magic. help

[joemama-2]

velvet lies

pairing: gojo x fem reader synopsis: crippling debt and possible evictions have ruined you. working two jobs with no downtime, and a five-year-old son, you really don't know the meaning of taking a break. after continuous questions about his father, you have decided to finally let your son meet his dad. only thing is, he has no idea said son exists. and to top it off, you have not a single clue about what kinds of things will transpire from this sudden revelation. tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, fluff, romance, alcohol, classism, mom! reader, lying, abuse, MAJOR angst, slow burn, exes to lovers, cheating, scandals, drugs, drama, family drama wc: 5155 a/n: hi everyone! i'm so excited for this piece of work as I have a lot of exciting ideas planned in store! this will probably have slow updates, so please please please be patient with me. thank you all for reading! i'm aiming for at least 15ish chapters, maybe more or less, depends how much i write in one chapter in the future. next chapter

“Cash or card?”

“Card.”

The sound of light dinging follows, the transaction completed. “Here you go, Miss. Have a good day.”

“Thank you, you too.” The woman takes the small bag from your outstretched hands, giving one last smile before exiting. The bell at the top of the door rings, signifying her exit. You sigh and look at the clock, one more hour. It’s not that long. But you’ve been here since opening and the shoes you’re wearing are beginning to hurt your feet. Maybe you should’ve broken them in more.

It’s a quaint little cafe. Most of the customers are teenagers, college students, or overworked office workers who need caffeine to get them through the day. Other than that, you have no qualms. Of course, it does get a little annoying having to tell the newer, much younger co-workers that they can’t do this or that. 

A mundane routine of making coffees, packing orders, and ringing them up. Just one more hour. 

As soon as the clock strikes 5:00, you’re clocking out and saying goodbye. The school is an exact walk of ten minutes, six if you’re fast. Then another ten back to the apartment. And finally, another fifteen to the convenience store. 

Hustle and bustle is all you’ve ever known. Sure, you like it most of the time. But you just wish you could get a break. It’s always go, go, go, but never take a rest and time to yourself for a moment. But when you see that adorable smile plaster on those chubby cheeks you never shy away from pinching, it’s all worth it. “Mama!” 

“Baby!” you crouch down and open your arms. The young boy wastes no time in throwing his body into yours, face nuzzled into your chest and arms around your neck. “How was school? Fun?” you ask, hand rubbing his back up and down.

He nods. “Mhm! Mr. Ito says I got the most gold stars out of everyone in class.” 

Your smile grows wistful, aweing. “Wow, such a good boy, aren’t you?”

You carry Koji into your arms, starting the walk back to your very humble apartment. He chatters innocently the entire trek, with you occasionally adding on or asking questions. His soft white hair pokes at your cheek, to which you straighten down with one free hand. It’s days like these where you wish you could just lounge at home with him, basking in his sweet innocence. But while most people are ending for the day, you’re barely starting your second half.

You feel the self-deprecating thoughts fill your mind like a virus while stationed near the light, waiting for the pedestal symbol to indicate. Your grip tightens around your son slightly, as if anchoring yourself to reality and reminding yourself you’re doing it all for him, and to keep going for him. 

It’s hard, yes. But so is parenting. 

The symbol comes on and you walk, seeing the building of your complex in the distance. Forcing any lingering negativity away, you clear your throat. “So, what did you learn today, baby?”

Koji looks up at you. “We learned how to add! I helped Mina.”

“That’s very nice of you.”

He giggles bashfully, leaning into the kiss you place on his cheek. Eyebrows raising as a sudden memory hits him. “Oh! And Mr. Ito said Dad Appreciation Day is next month. There’s gonna be food and music.”

Your smile wavers, footsteps momentarily pausing before continuing. “Oh, really?” you ask, inhaling a wavy breath of air. “That sounds like fun.”

“Mhm.” Koji nods, then tilts his head curiously at you. “But everyone is bringing their daddies. I wanna bring Papa too.” 

And you really try not to make your guilty grimace visible. “I know, sweetie. I know.”

“Can Papa come?” he frowns. 

No, he can’t. But you’re not about to tell your five-year-old that the reason his father can’t make an appearance is because he doesn’t even know he has a son. It’s been a difficult conversation for you. You’re not sure when or how to have these sorts of hard ones with children. So you’ve been dancing around the subject. Saying his dad is away on vacation, or fighting intergalactic dragons, or some other excuse you’ve been forced to use. He believes you, most of the time. But that doesn’t stop his curiosity and growing impatience. 

The last thing you want him to think is that he has no father in the first place.

He does. You’ve shown him pictures and videos occasionally. Of, and of course, he’s an exact carbon copy of the man. From his bright blue eyes, albino hair, and all the way down to his stubborn personality. You were a little annoyed when your only child took quite literally everything from his father, only leaving him with a couple of things from you–your nose and helpful nature. 

“We’ll see. Papa is busy, remember?” you gently reply, walking through the parking lot of your complex to the lobby.

Koji’s frown deepens and so do the metaphorical scars on your heart. “But Papa’s always busy! I wanna see Papa.”

“I know you do, baby. You will soon, okay?”

“Do you promise?”

You hesitate but eventually nod with a forced smile. “Mama promises.”

After leaving Koji with the babysitter, you give him a quick kiss and recite the list with the babysitter before rushing off to your second job. A convenience store. 

Not the most savory place, mainly because you get all sorts of crazy and odd customers, but also because you are close. You hate closing. But you need the second disposable income and this is the only place that fits with your schedule. It’s also a little more leaned back than the cafe, when there are no customers, you spend your time browsing the web for jobs.

You’ve probably sent in over 500 applications over the years, with not even half of those places reaching out. Even then, you’re not guaranteed a job. The job market is horrible nowadays and you’re living through it.

Whatever, you think to yourself as you clock in. One day at a time.

It’s around eleven at night when you're slugging back into your apartment, lights dim, and silence enveloping the place. “Thank you, Sana.” You mutter, exhausted but still sparing the 20-year-old a smile. You hand her a small envelope. “For today and last Saturday. How was he?”

Sana thanks you kindly and grabs her stuff. “All good, no tantrums today.”

“That’s good.” you walk into the kitchen, grabbing some food you’ve meal prepped. “Get home safe, okay?”

“Thank you, Y/N. Sleep well.”

When she leaves, you give yourself a moment to slump over the kitchen island, sighing in both relief and lingering tiredness. The silence feels nice, like an old and familiar friend welcoming you and praising you after yet another day of the same routine. You’ve always loved routines, but you can’t help but crave at least some sort of spontaneity. Putting the tupperware of chicken and rice into the microwave for a minute, its light humming makes you zone out. The conversation from before with your son ringing in your mind like a very annoying bell.

Soon, images of his son, your ex, flood your mind. An old fluttery sensation residing in the pit of your stomach, your body suddenly feeling all too warm for your liking. Your fists clench to stop their light trembling, shaking your head free of him. 

Not now.

You stop the microwave at one second, before it makes that obnoxious beeping and wakes your son. There are two chairs at the small dining table, you sit at one of them and eat your now warm meal. You’ve started meal prepping after one too many missed meals and a few incidents where that light-headedness and blurred vision caused you to faint. Luckily, you were alone when that happened. Unluckily, you were alone when that happened. Nursing a few bruises to your forehead after making contact was not a fun time. 

You take time to eat, in no particular rush. Although you know you should be getting ready for bed soon for another early day tomorrow, your body doesn’t move. Either consciously or subconsciously. The end of the day is when you find yourself attempting to unwind and detach from the day’s events. But, the stress of unpaid bills, debts, and worry for the future always find time to crawl back.

It’s exhausting, extremely so. Sure, you’re an adult and this is normal. But don’t you deserve at least a little bit of time when you don’t have to worry about anything? It feels like every waking second your mind is working overtime, your body in a constant state of motion. It’s worn you down completely over the years. But you have a son who needs you, so you suppose you shouldn’t be feeling pity for yourself.

This is what parenting is all about, isn’t it?

Making sacrifice after sacrifice for your child. However, when you feel yourself sinking deeper and deeper, slowly losing more of yourself, what if there’s nothing left to sacrifice in the first place? The eviction bill from this morning taunts you as it lays upright in front of you in the middle of the table.

It’s then do you think, no, you do have one thing left. 

Koji.

If Koji’s gone, then you really have nothing left. There’s no reason to live if that happens. And with the path you’re going down, that’s feeling more and more like a dreaded possibility. 

I wanna see Papa.

Koji’s words play repeatedly. For a second, you feel yourself resonating with your son. Only for a second. You reach for your phone and go to Google, typing in a name that still haunts you. You’re barely three letters in before his name appears and you’re clicking.

A smiling image fills your screen along with other general information.

For some unknown reason, your breath hitches. You feel like he’s almost staring at you, smiling at your pathetic predicament. Grip tightening around your phone, swallowing down an unexpecting lump, tears fall from your eyes and onto the phone screen.

Why you’re crying, you don’t know. It could be many things, but you won’t address that right now.

Gojo Satoru.

The father of your child, your ex of 4 years. 

You rarely look him up, almost never. Only in desperate times when you feel yourself drowning and needing some sort of comfort. It’s stupid. You haven’t been together or even seen him in seven years. Not since you ended things with him. Not since you felt his hands roam your skin, whispering sweet words.

He didn’t even protest or question why. Almost like he knew your breakup was inevitable. You’re not sure if that hurts more.

You’re twenty-eight now. But while your life still feels the same from when you met Satoru at the ripe age of seventeen, you’ve reached a plateau. But him? He’s thriving, of course. Making a name for himself, as an heir to one of the biggest conglomerates in Japan, the Gojo Group. 

You’re happy for him. But where is that happiness for yourself?

You feel a little, no, a lot jealous. You always were of Satoru. Being given everything he wants without much thought, never worrying about money, and a stable home life. You’re extremely jealous of that bastard.

But right now, jealousy isn’t in the picture. It’s your son’s father. And if you want to keep your son, give him everything he wants, that starts with one person.

Letting him meet his father. 

“Honey, do you like your pancakes?” you ask your son who’s currently scarfing down his plate of breakfast. Adorned in an adorable shirt uniform shirt and some little black trousers. He hums back excitedly with a muffled “yes, mama”. With a chuckle, you dry up the rest of the dishes, then your hands. Dropping him off at school is the first thing on your agenda, as per usual. 

The walk to his school is a familiar one, wanting to get your son knowledgeable with the route so when the day comes that he needs to walk him himself, he’d know his way back. You pass by other kids and parents, some children yelling bye as they step onto the school grounds, with others giving their children long-lasting hugs.

You walk until you reach his door, his teacher, Mr. Ito, standing outside and greeting his students as they enter. When he makes eye contact with Koji, he smiles a bit wider. “Good morning, Koji.”

“Good morning!” your son happily replies, waving up at his teacher. With one final hug and kiss shared, he’s running in to already begin talking to his friends. Standing back up, you see Mr. Ito already looking at you. And you especially don’t miss the way his eyes not so subtly rake up and down your figure. You clear your throat. “Good morning.”

He meets your eyes again. “Good morning, Y/N-san. How are you today?”

“Good, and you?” 

“Very good.” 

The way his tone is almost causes you to visibly shiver, brows furrowing slightly in discomfort. One of the things you dislike the most about Koji’s school, his teacher. Although he hasn’t outwardly done or said anything inappropriate, you’re a smart woman. “That’s good. Well…have a nice day.” Doing anything you can to quickly end this dreaded conversation, but still wanting to maintain a level of politeness. 

You’re about to turn on your heel and leave when he calls out. “Ah, Y/N-san?”

Damn it, what now? “Yes?” you turn and look at him.

The distance between you reduces as he steps a little closer. “I have some concerns regarding Koji’s behavior in class. Would you be available to set up a conference anytime this week?”

“Behavior? Has he been misbehaving?” You did not expect that.

“Well, it’s complicated. He has some trouble listening as talks when he shouldn’t. I’d like to nip this in the bud before it grows out of control.” Mr. Ito cooly replies, smile looking more like a hidden smirk. “So, will you be available?”

You hesitate, not really. With your two jobs, you barely have time for yourself, let alone your son’s teacher. But if it’s regarding a behavior problem, then do you have any choice? “I think I’ll be free this Saturday. Weekdays are very hectic for more.”

He nods. “That’s fine, we can grab coffee.” When your head tilts slightly, he adds on with a chuckle. “And discuss Koji over coffee. On me.”

Right, of course. You know what this is, but just think about your son. That’s the priority. “Okay, 8 am at Latte Lounge sound good?”

“Sounds excellent, I’ll see you then. Have a wonderful day.”

With a simple nod back, you turn around and finally leave. Practically feeling the way his eyes shamelessly check out your behind. A frown inevitably grows on your face, why wouldn’t it? As long as this man doesn’t try anything…more, you should be fine. And if he does, 1) you’ll be in public, and 2) you’ll tell him straight up.

Whatever. 

“Pizza or teriyaki?”

“Pizza!”

“Of course.” you chuckle and put the frozen pizza in your cart, your son clutched onto your right hand after announcing he can walk on his own because he’s a big boy. The grocery store isn’t crowded during this time of day. Rightfully so. It’s 7 pm on a Tuesday, most people already cooking dinner by now. You always grocery shop at this time, your son appreciates it too. There’s been a few times when you both got quickly and very overwhelmed with the bustling nature of the grocery store on a weekend morning. Currently, you’re moving through the snack section now, picking up a few of your and Koji’s favorites. 

“Mama, can I pick a cereal?” Koji asks and points to the cereal aisle next over. When you nod, he happily runs off. You still however make sure to look over at him frequently when picking up and putting down a few snacks. 

You reach up to grab a pack of Hello Panda, the pink and chocolate ones, before a hand beats you to it. “Oh, I’m sorry.” As soon as you look over, you and the stranger meet eyes. 

Immediately, there’s a silence that falls over you two. Eyes each blown wide in shock. 

Oh, you’ve got to be shitting me.

Just your luck. As soon as the stranger speaks, a strange nostalgia fills you. “Y-Y/N?”

It almost sounds weird coming from his lips. Your friend–well, ex?--friend gets out. He still looks the same, just more…manly. 

“...Suguru, I–I’m… surprised to see you.” you awkwardly laugh. Reunions were never easy.

“Oh my god,” Suguru breaths out, shaking his head with a faint smile. “Well, shit. I mean, how are you? You..you look good.” His eyes move down your figure in an appreciative way.

“Thank you, I’m good. How are you? Your hair is longer.” you motion to his sea of black, healthy locks. “ ‘M a little jealous.”

He laughs with you, the sound reminding you of old times. “Yeah, been working on it. And I’m good.”

Another pause is permitted, as if you two aren’t very sure what to say to one another. Well, in all honesty, it has been seven years. “Well,” he clears his throat and puts his hands in his pockets. “What are you up to?”

“Oh, you know,” you glance down at your cart. “Just some shopping.”

He also looks down, head tilting slightly. “Ah, right.” With a nod, he juts his head toward the direction of the kid’s toothpaste. “Just for one?” He laughs, joking of course. 

You mentally curse yourself, putting a pack of cookies on top of the toothpaste to hide its already revealed existence. “Uh, ye—”

“Mama! I want this one!” Koji runs up to you, showcasing his desired cereal.

Well…..shit. 

As if things weren’t already complicated.

With Suguru’s eyes even wider than when they were staring at you, his mouth is practically on the floor when the young boy looks at him. His sharp eyes dart across his features and…..

“I-is this—”

“Koji.” you cut him off, gulping and shifting the child closer to your leg. “My son.”

Suguru spends another good minute staring at the boy, who innocently stares back. When his eyes slowly move from the blue ones to yours, there are a million and more questions swirling in his brain. He’s not even sure which one to ask first. But he goes with the obvious. “...Is….is he…..”

You nod uncomfortably. 

He lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding, hand running through his hair. “Holy shit, I mean….holy heck.”

Your lips purse, putting Koji’s cereal in your cart before picking him up in your arms. “Koji, this is Suguru. Say hi.”

“Hi.” Koji childishly smiles at the older man. “Are you Mama’s friend?”

Suguru spares you a glance. “Uhm…yeah. Yeah, kid, I am. Nice to meet you.” He then shifts weirdly, not sure if he should shake the boy’s hand, which seems too formal. He decides to gently ruffle his hair. “So…how old is he?” The question is directed towards you, but Koji answers. “I’m five!” He holds up five small fingers. 

“Five?” Suguru’s brows furrow at you. It’s surprising how quickly you recognize that scolding look of his. “Have you—”

“No.” you once again cut him off, shifting Koji to your hip. “I haven’t.”

“Why?”

That’s a good question. One you know the answer to…slightly. But with Koji looking between you two curiously, you can’t exactly say why. At least not here. “I….I just…haven’t.”

Silence. 

You can feel Suguru regarding you with many emotions, but the main one is confusion. He bites his lip as he thinks over how to react properly to this situation. From the looks of it, Koji is just as clueless as him, maybe even more. “Jesus Christ, I don’t even know what to say right now.” Heavily sighing, he looks back at Koji, then you, then Koji, then finally you. “You’re going to…right? I mean, he deserves to know, Y/N. You’ve just–I mean, come on.”

There’s not much of a response to that, much to his expectation. You always used to do this when you were guilty. But Suguru has always been the more… empathetic of the two. “Look, I–I know you’re probably going through your own things, but…”

You look at him again, remorseful. His lips purse and with a heavy sigh, he takes a card out from his pocket and hands it to you. “Here’s my business card, it has my number. We lost your old one, so.”

Your hand reaches out to take it, examining the words, Rising Futures Foundation. "Building futures, one child at a time.” You meet his eyes again, forcing words out. “Okay…thanks.” 

“No need,” he waves you off, taking down the two Hello Panda boxes and putting them in your cart. “I’m sorry, I have things to do right now, but please…give me a call, okay?”

With slight hesitation, you nod. He mirrors you before focusing on the child again, a smile forming. “See you, buddy.” Suguru pats his shoulder lightly before walking away and away from your vision.

Your mind is being overrun, body feeling stiff and stuck, unsure of how to process what the fuck just happened. No doubt he’s about to tell his best friend. Then said best friend will find you and Koji. Then maybe he’ll try taking you to court for hiding his son for five years. You’ll obviously lose because you have no lawyer and Satoru has the best. Your son, your one and only, your sole happiness will be taken away from you and you’ll be left alone to rot in angui–

“Mama?” Koji’s small hand is put to your cheek, stirring you from your mild comatose state. “Are you okay? You have tears in your eyes.”

“What?” Raising your hand to your eye and sure enough, you are letting loose some tears. “No, no, Mama’s okay. I’m not crying, just…just tired.”

But with growing age, so is his perception. “Are you sure? Did your friend make you cry? I don’t like him then.”

Oh, how sweet. You smile, head tilting. “No, baby. Don’t say that, okay? Mama’s fine. I promise. See? I’m smiling. Wanna smile with me?”

Like clockwork, he follows your emotions and smiles, giggling. “Yeah, I wanna smile with you. I like smiling with you, Mama.”

“And I like it when you smile with me too.”

Maybe, this isn’t too bad. You were just thinking that you want Koji to finally meet his dad. So, this is good. This ensures a meeting. But, it also ensures a deep-rooted, most likely bad confrontation that will take place between you two. Why wouldn’t it? At least you’ll be able to prepare yourself now, mentally. 

You can imagine the harsh words he might say. The raised voices and brutal questions about how you can do this to him and so on. In hindsight, you deserve it. What kind of woman does do this to a man? Children are supposed to be bundles of joy, not hidden secrets. Of course, there’s the lingering worries of what legal action Satoru, or his family, might try to take.

That would quite literally fuck you over so hard.

But…maybe Satoru will go easy on you because of your past. You really don’t know. This situation is messy as fuck and it’s mostly—a lot—because of you. You have no one to blame but yourself. Hopefully, he’ll take pity on you, even though you hate when others pity you. It’s different when it comes to him, the father of your son. It always has been and it probably always will be. 

Honestly, you’re a little relieved that you ran into the best friend of the man than the man himself. Now that would’ve been bad. 

The sounds of skin against skin fill the room, mixed with heavy grunts and airy moans. The headboard repeatedly hitting the wall plays like a drum, the lights dim and the view of the dark city landscape is exposed. Satoru’s gripping the woman’s hips, leaving crescent-shaped indents in her fair skin. Her constant mewls sound heavenly in his ears. “God, you feel so….good…”

“S-satoru!” 

“Yeah, say my name. Just like that, baby.”

He presses a firm hand down on the small of her back to keep her arch in place, feeling his release invade her warm walls, filling her with a lovely warmth. She clenches around him, moaning out once more as she finishes with him.

He collapses against her back, his heavy breaths tingling her ear. “Baby, that was…so good…” she croaks out. 

Satoru’s mind is fuzzy, vision blurring slightly. He hums in response and leans back up to pull out, discarding the heavy condom with his load into the trashcan beside the bed. “Stay.” With a small pat to her hip, he’s forcing his limbs out of bed and to the connecting bathroom to grab a warm rag. Aftercare. Although most of the time, he really can’t be bothered to do something like this. Cleaning her up feels like a chore sometimes,  but the last time he voiced that opinion, it led to a huge argument between the two. 

In just a few minutes, they’re both cleaned and changed. Wearing his sweats low on his hips while she indulges in just one of his oversized shirts. Another small pet peeve he has. And another thing he must keep his mouth shut about. “What time do you have to go into the office tomorrow?” Himari asks, snuggled up against his chest, dainty fingers tracing circles along the firm muscles. 

“Same time as always,” he sighs, grabbing the TV remote and putting a random show on. “You know that.”

“I know, but…can’t you just call off tomorrow? Please? I wanna spend the day with you.”

When he looks back down at her, she’s frowning. A small tug is pulled at his heart and before he knows it, he’s pulling her closer and placing a gentle kiss to her hair. “Can’t, baby. Maybe this weekend?”

Satoru can feel her ready to protest again, but the sound of the front door downstairs being opened and closed interrupts the moment. Followed by the familiar voice of his friend. “Satoru! You here?”

Satoru’s brows furrow slightly. A small grunt falls from his lips as he maneuvers Himari off his chest, standing up and walking out. He looks down the staircase and sees Suguru staring up at him. “What do you want? I’m sorta busy.” Himari comes out and hugs his waist, proof of his so-called “busyness”. 

Suguru holds back an eye roll when the woman gives him a look, focusing on his best friend. “Need to talk to you. Privately.” 

“For what?”

“It’s important.”

“So just say it now.”

“Damn it, Satoru. Just come down and kick your friend out.”

“Girlfriend.” Himari corrects with a scowl.

“Yeah, sure.” Suguru waves her off and motions for Satoru to come down as he walks into the man’s kitchen.

Sighing with his eyes closed, he turns to Himari. “Sorry, babe. My driver’ll give you a ride back.”

Once again, she frowns. “But I—”

“Please.” 

His bottom lip pokes out in a small, but convincing pout. “I’ll see you later, mkay?” Satoru reaches his thumb out and brushes it along her cheekbone, which he knows she’s weak for. Confliction and hesitation dance in her eyes but she concedes. Gathering her purse and shows, she gives Satoru a dramatic kiss on the lips before leaving. 

“Finally,” Suguru huffs from the kitchen, swirling a glass of whiskey. “I thought you guys broke up.”

“It was a break.” Satoru grumbles, walking over to stand across from his friend, snatching the glass out his hand and sipping. “Anyway, what’s so important you come unannounced for and demand my sweet company to leave?”

“That woman is not sweet.” 

Satoru smiles and shrugs, “She tastes it.” 

A groan is heard from Suguru, eyes rolling before he shakes his head. “Look, you should sit down.”

“That good, huh?” he plops down in the nearby chair and leans back, arm resting against the back of it. He nods. “Alright, shoot, baby.”

Suguru takes in a deep breath and steels himself for the more than likely hard conversation. A part of him feels like he’s intruding, like it’s not his place to reveal such a thing to him. But at the end of the day, it’s his best friend. And you, well…he’s not exactly sure if you’re still friends or not. “What I tell you might sound crazy, but I need you to promise you’ll stay calm until I’m done speaking, got it?”

Satoru’s brows raise in mild astonishment, seeing Suguru get all serious like this is quite amusing. “Okay, I promise.” He shrugs again. “Can’t be that bad, right? No one’s hurt.”

Not yet, Suguru says to himself. He claps his hands together, mulling over how exactly to break the news. “So, I came across an old friend today.”

“Oh yeah? She cute?” Satoru swirls the alcohol in his glass.

Suguru holds back another eye roll. “Yeah, she is.”

“Nice, man.” the white-haired man chuckles, head tilting. “So what, did she make a move on you or something? Now that’s crazy.”

“I’ll have you know, I’m actually quite favorable amongst women.”

“Are you now?”

“Listen, you ass. No talking, just listening.” When he doesn’t get a response back, he takes it as a sign to continue. “Anyway, I saw an old friend. And…she had a kid with her.” Satoru nods slowly, already getting lost on his this information is even remotely crazy, or relevant to him. But he stays shut, deciding not to face another one of Suguru’s mini-lectures. One more deep breath is let out from Suguru and he gets to the point. “It was Y/N, she has a kid.”

A small beat of silence follows as Suguru gauges his best friend’s reaction. He doesn’t look like he’s flipping out, but he doesn’t show much emotion either. Confusing Suguru, he waits for the inevitable lash out. “Who?” Satoru ends up asks.

His best friend knits his brows, trying to see if the other man is serious or not. When his expression doesn’t change, he replies. “Y/N…” he speaks slowly. “...your ex?”

Still, no emotion. But his grip on the glass does tighten.  “And she has a kid.” Suguru reiterates, almost in nervousness now. 

“Satoru….the kid looks exactly like you.”

a/n: thank you guys for reading!!! Sorry if this chapter was a little short, i’ll try to make the next ones a little more longer. But writing super huge chapters isn’t my forte. Anyway, stay tuned for chapter 2 :)

[parkerslatte]

Saviour

Eris Vanserra x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: mentions of torture. blood and injury. survivors guilt.

Summary: After Amarantha had kept Y/N locked up for ten years, she is finally reunited with Eris.

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

•••

Y/N was unaware of how long it had been since she was locked away deep below the mountain. There was no sun, barely any light and the only company she had were the rats that frequented her cell. It hadn’t always been this way, before she was locked away, she at least had contact with others– despite how unpleasant it was. It wasn’t until she made her third escape attempt that she was thrown into this very cell, even more isolated than the ones several feet above her. 

It had been a long time since Y/N’s hope had abandoned her, memories had begun to fade in her dire existence despite her efforts to cling onto them. The one memory she did retain was one of beauty and love, one she treasured above all. Eris’s Vanserra’s face was one she would never be able to forget even if she tried. The final caress of his face was burned onto her palm. Even with all of her hope gone, there was still that miniscule spark that still shone brightly within her. 

Y/N wasn’t certain that anyone would ever come looking for her. When Amarantha had personally dragged her down here, the look on everyone else’s faces was one of pure dread. No one thought she would still be alive. Her shackles around Y/N’s wrists and ankles made her power useless so she couldn’t even try and signal for anyone to help her. Not that anyone would even attempt such a fatal action. 

It had been a while since she had been given food and her small water supply was gone; Y/N was beginning to become restless. Even in the damp and cold cell she was in, a full meal was brought to her once a day. At first Y/N refused to eat anything in fear it was poisoned but the more her hope was melted, she began to eat, not afraid if it was poisoned anymore. 

Y/N dragged her body to the bars and held into them. The long hall before her was pitch black and the only light was two everburning torches each fixed to the walls outside of her cell. Everything was even more deathly silent now. 

Her voice hadn’t been used in years and even opening her mouth to speak was a foreign feeling.

“Hello?” Y/N didn’t recognise her own voice. It was scratchy and quiet and nothing like the elegant speech she once heard flow from her own mouth. 

There was no response. Everything remained silent; not even the rats made a noise. Y/N crawled back over to the pile of rags in the corner of her cell– her rather poor excuse for a bed. Her eyes closed and Y/N wasn’t entirely sure if they would open again. 

***

When Y/N awoke, it was sudden as her sleep was disturbed by the echo of footsteps coming from down the long passageway. Her eyes opened and in the far distance she could see the flicker of a flame. Y/N sat up from the bundle of rags, chains rattling. 

The flame grew closer and closer until a figure was visible, a dark cloak draped over their shoulders. It was a cloak Y/N didn’t recognise and that small spark within her ignited once more. She tried to call out but it was as if her voice had failed her completely. The words were stuck in her throat. 

The figure drew closer and Y/N gripped onto the bars of the cell tightly. With each step, her heartbeat sped up as a million possibilities swam through her head. What if it was someone coming to finally kill her? What if it was someone finally coming to save her?

The flame which was hovering above the figure's hand disappeared and Y/N’s eyes widened in recognition. A hand pulled back the figure’s hood and tears welled in Y/N’s eyes. 

“Y/N?” The unmistakable voice of Eris Vanserra whispered. 

Once again Y/N tried to speak but her voice caught in her throat. More tears flowed. 

“Y/N…” Eris said softly, bending down, his hands encasing hers that were gripping the bars. Y/N only continued to cry.

The only sound that echoed was Y/N’s sobs and the small cries from Eris. Y/N was afraid to close her eyes and find that everything was a dream. Everything felt too good to be true.

“How can I get you out of here?” Eris asked, his voice a whisper of disbelief. 

Y/N slowly pointed to the keys hung next to one of the torches. “Amarantha wanted my freedom to be within sight but without ever being able to reach it.” It was the most Y/N had spoken in a long time. 

Eris was immediately up on his feet and grabbed the keys before placing the key in the lock on the cell door. 

This is it, Y/N thought. I will finally be free. 

The metal door screeched open and Y/N sat back as Eris stepped forward and crouched down. He held his hand out to unlock the shackles next. Y/N stared at his hand for a moment before placing her hand in his. His touch was warm and comforting, it was just as she remembered. 

The shackles were taken off one by one. The scars they each left behind was going to be a reminder to Y/N for her entire life. 

“Can you stand?” Eris asked.

Y/N shook her head. She hadn’t even attempted but she already knew that she was too weak to support her own weight. Eris nodded and gently listed Y/N into his arms, cradling her against his chest. For the first time in years, Y/N felt her body relax. She was safe.

Eris began to walk down the passageway and Y/N’s eyes slowly shut. She allowed herself to fall unconscious in the arms of her love.

***

In a cabin deep in the Autumn Forest, Eris gently laid an unconscious Y/N down upon a bed. There was dried blood surrounding her wrists like a bracelet— a bracelet Eris wishes never decorated her body. 

Eris didn’t want to leave her alone but he needed supplies to clean the wounds around her wrists and ankles. The moment he gathered the supplies he was immediately by her bedside. 

The bond between them— the only word to describe it was sensitive. Eris felt everything Y/N did, every bit of pain, every bit of happiness. He felt everything. 

Y/N looked so fragile laid upon the bed. It had been ten years since Amarantha dragged Y/N away and that was the day the bond went silent. For ten years Eris thought Y/N was dead— he thought he was searching for her body. 

When Eris’s eyes landed upon her frail figure behind those cell doors, he was relieved but at the same time he thought of everything Y/N had been through since she had been locked away. He never even got to say goodbye to her, nobody knew of their relationship and if Amarantha was to find out, Eris couldn’t even begin to imagine the worse torment she would have put Y/N through. 

Eris gently cleaned away the dried blood from Y/N’s body and the moment he was done, his eyes burned as tears formed. He quietly cried as he gently gripped onto her hand. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” Eris whispered, bringing her hand to his mouth. “I should have saved you years ago.”

A gentle kiss was pressed to Y/N’s hand as Eris allowed his tears to finally fall. 

***

When Y/N woke, she was shocked to feel a soft mattress pressing into her back instead of hard stone. The smell of the damp walls was replaced with the sweet smell of her favourite tea. It had been so long since she had smelt it. 

Her body felt lighter too. As she lifted her hand she was pleased to not hear the metal of the shackles bashing together. Y/N cracked one eye open and light flooded her vision and she quickly closed them once more. She had spent years in the dark with her only source of light being two torches. Seeing natural light was a luxury Y/N never thought she would see again. 

Y/N tried once again to open her eyes. Light flooded her vision once again but she persevered. As she got used to it, the wider she opened them, being greeted to the sight of the homey decoration of a cabin. Decoration she picked out herself many years ago. 

Footsteps came closer to the door and Y/N’s body tensed as it was opened. Her body relaxed once she saw the familiar face of her mate. 

“Eris…” Y/N whispered. 

The glass of water Eris held in his hand shook as he took a step closer to the bed and placed the water down on the bedside table. “Y/N…” he said. 

Y/N slowly lifted her arm, it felt strange without the weight forcing it down. She reached out for Eris and he happily complied, sitting by her side in an instant, warm hands encasing her cold ones.

“I’m alive?” She asked, wanting to know that this wasn’t some trick of her mind.

Eris nodded, seemingly afraid to use his voice. 

“You saved me,” Y/N said with the strangest feeling on her face. It was a smile. Y/N couldn’t remember the last time she smiled. 

“I did,” Eris replied. “I should have saved you sooner.”

“You saved me,” Y/N repeated. “Thank you.”

“Please don’t thank me,” Eris mumbled. “I should have saved you the moment Amarantha took you away. I shouldn’t have waited until after her death–”

“She’s dead?” Y/N questioned. 

Eri’s eyebrows furrowed. “How much do you know?”

“Nothing,” Y/N said. “My last memory of anything out of that cell was being dragged away after attempting to escape. How long ago was that? Everything blurred together in that cell.”

“Ten years ago,” Eris said, his grip tightening on her hand. 

Y/N’s eyes widened. Ten years had passed since she was locked in that cell. Ten years of torture at the hands of Amarantha. Ten years away from her mate. 

“But she is dead, correct?” Y/N said, wanting complete confirmation. 

Eris nodded. “Tamlin killed her.”

“Good,” Y/N said. “That’s good.”

“Y/N–”

“That’s amazing. She stole ten years of my life,” Y/N cried, tears falling down her cheeks. “She took ten years from me, away from everyone, bound where no one will hear me. She took me away from you.”

“Y/N–” “That isn’t fair. How can she kill so many under that stupid mountain but leave me alive? That isn’t fair! Why did she keep me alive and alone for a decade?” Y/N cried. 

Y/N’s body shook with her sobs as she felt her whole body being encased, though it was pleasant. Y/N’s arms wrapped around Eris as she melted into him. It felt nice to be held by him once again. His scent invaded her nose and she breathed it in deeply. No matter how much time had passed, his scent was still the same. It had always comforted her, as it always would. 

“I don’t know,” Eris muttered against her head. “I wish I did but I don’t.”

Eris continued to hold Y/N in his arms until she pulled away, wanting to look at his face. She hadn’t taken in his features at all. He still looked the same, though he looked tired and exhausted. His hair was longer too, tied neatly at the back of his neck, a few strands escaping to rest over his forehead. 

“I thought of you every night,” Y/N whispered. “I gave up hope long ago of anyone finding me, but every so often that hope was ignited again by the thought of you.”

“I thought I was searching for a body,” Eris confessed, his hold on Y/N tightening. “When she took you, I could no longer feel the bond. It was as if it had been erased.”

“It was the shackles,” Y/N replied, looking at her scarred wrists and ankles. “It blocked all magic and that included the mating bond.”

“Since I no longer felt the bond, I thought you were dead,” Eris said. “When Amarantha was killed and everyone left to go to their homes, I stayed to search the whole place for your body. And all I could think of was how I never got to say goodbye to you.”

“I should have died,” Y/N muttered. “How can I live when so many others died? High lords included. What was so special about me?”

The warmth of Eris’s hand caressed her face. “Everything is special about you. Every little thing, don’t ever forget that. Every single night under that damned mountain I would pray for you and I am sure I have never prayed in my life. I prayed that we would be reunited one day, either in this life or the next. My prayers were answered when I found you alive.”

“But–”

“Y/N, I can’t say I know how you feel but I know what I feel and what I feel in pure love and adoration for you,” Eris said. “I will help you out with whatever you are feeling. I will go wherever you wish to go. I will leave if you wish for space to heal on your own. But I need you to know that I will help you. You are my mate and the love of my life, I don’t wish to see you blame yourself for anything.”

“Thank you, Eris,” Y/N said, hugging him tighter, burying her head into his shoulder.

“Don’t thank me,” Eris replied, “I will do anything for you, Y/N.”

“Right now, I only want to lay here with you,” Y/N said. “Everything still doesn’t feel real. I’m afraid to wake up in that cell again.”

“I can guarantee that this is real Y/N, we are finally home,” Eris said. A small, genuine smile twitched at Y/N’s lips. “And by some hellish reason that this isn’t real, then you must know that I will still be looking for you. In every universe I will be looking for you and I will never stop until I find you, no matter how long it takes.”

“I love you, Eris,” Y/N said, cuddling into Eris’s side. 

“I love you too, Y/N,” Eris said, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head. “I love you so much.”

It wasn’t long until Y/N drifted off to sleep once more, the exhaustion weighing heavily upon her. She was no longer afraid to fall asleep, not while Eris was beside her. He would always protect her and would always stand by her side, as he always had– as he always would. 

[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

[yellowjestertfs]

Altered State: Part 1

IDK if anyone on here will be interested in this story, its kind of a long and slower but thought I would post it anyways. More parts coming next week!

Most great adventures start with a call to arms, a quest from on high, a declaration of purpose to serve the greater good. Edward’s and Leon’s started with a question asked through a mouthful of chips.

“Wanna play this new game dude?” Leon asked words barely intelligible. He stood in the doorway of their living room, his fat frame blocking most of the light. In one hand he held a bag of chips and in the other, he held up an unfamiliar battered keep case, the type that held video game disks inside. The thing had a red and blue design that Edward didn't recognize. 

“I guess. What is that thing, will it work on my Wii?” Edward asked. He lay on the couch, long thin body taking up the whole thing but sat up and moved over to make room for his roommate. 

Leon shook his head “I don’t think so dude, it's like super retro.” He walked over to the TV and started fiddling with the row of older consoles that belonged to their third roommate Alvis trying to see if any could accommodate the game. "It was free though." He said as he found the right one, an extremely retro blocky thing Edward was surprised even accepted disks. Leon booted up the system, the familiar hum of the machine filling the space. “I got it from that comic shop down the street. This buff dude at the counter just handed it to me. Said he thought I would put it to good use.”

“Alvis would kill you if he knew you were touching that,” Edward warned, always the one to show more caution. 

“Fuck Alvis. If he didn't want it to be used he shouldn’t have bought it” Leon countered. Neither of the two were particularly big fans of their other roommate, but Leon especially hated his guts. He only let the guy live with them because it made the rent cheaper and because Alvis’ weird retro tech fit in with their decor of half-finished Lego sets, empty pizza boxes, and superhero posters, and because for the most part, Alvis left the two friends alone, spending all his time in the engineering building or fiddling with tech in his room.

Leon opened the case and took out a dusty disk, growing on it to reveal the title “Altered State” and the manufacturer HunkTech, neither of which either Leon or Edward had ever heard of. Leon put the game back into Alvis’s video game console and pressed play. The TV flickered for a moment, then exploded with color so bright it forced both of them to squint. Flashes of neon light, strange symbols, and spinning images seared into their eyes, leaving dancing after images. Neither of the friends could look away, their senses overwhelmed by the pulsating lights that burned into the back of their brains. And just as suddenly as it started, the TV went black and both friends came back to themselves.

“Oh shit" Edward muttered, blinking rapidly to clear his vision. "Your game just fried the TV!Alvis is going to kill you.”

Leon opened his mouth to defend himself but before he could a green holographic display blinked into existence, floating in the air right in front of him. Growing text marched across the living room floor reading:

"Welcome to Altered State.”

Leon’s jaw dropped. "Uh, Ed? You seeing this?”

Edward stood motionless for a moment too shocked to speak. “What the fuck” he breathed “What's going on?”

Both of their holograms shifted to display naked, pixelated 3D models of the two friends, hanging awkwardly in midair. 

“Eww, what the hell,” Leon said. He tried to avert his gaze but the images followed the motion of his head and stayed even when he shut his eyes. 

Neither of the projections was a particularly flattering sight to behold.  Leon’s short, heavy frame was rendered in painful detail—his soft belly, narrow shoulders, pudgy limbs, and average penis were all fully extenuated under the brutally detailed holographic projection. Edward’s model didn’t fare any better. Tall and spindly, his twig-like arms and knobby knees, paired with a notoriously ugly face, gave him the appearance of a scarecrow. Edward was not helped much in its attractiveness by the acne on his face, the greasy thin hair on his head, and the pitifully small penis between his legs fully visible in the naked light of the hologram. 

“Your the one with your dick in my face.” Edward shot back, cheeks flushed with embarrassment at the display.  

The hologram flickered again, and new text appeared below both their models:

Analyzing subjects…

The text began to blink as new displays blinked into existence on the peripheral of both their vision, only really notable if focused on. Various menus that displayed statistics quests and a list perks were all there, though all were currently blank. The words level one along with an empty an empty progress bar beneath appeared at the top of their filed of view, though only visible to themselves and not the other. 

Neither of the two friends had time to examine the new features in detail as the words under their models shifted again.

“Analyzing Purpose: Class Selection”

"Class selected: Juggernaut.” Appeared under Leon’s character. 

Leon blinked. "Juggernaut?" he repeated, unsure what to make of the development.

Edward snickered, “I think that's the fantasy term for fatty.”

But before Leon could respond, Edward’s display changed too:

"Class selected: Snake Charmer.”

“What like I’m going to play the flute?” Edward asked.

It was Leon's turn to laugh. “No bro, the game just called you a homo.” 

It took Edward a second to understand. “Not funny,” he said swatting his best friend on the arm, blushing somehow harder. “This is seriously messed up. We need to go to the hospital or something.”

“Relax charmochondriac, don't you see what’s happening?” 

“Group psychosis?” Edward guessed.

“No dude, we are in a video game, and we fucking rule at video games.”

“Leon” Edward said warningly. Before he could say more though quests populated onto both their displays.

“Dude chill this is awesome. My first quest is easy too. I bet I can get level ten before you.”

Edward wasn’t as ready to accept this rapid series of unexplainable events but he also wasn’t ready to let his best friend think he was a chicken. “Fine. I’ll meet you back at the house when I kick your ass.”

Leon laughed and with that both boys raced out the door, shoving each other playfully to get out first. From there both took off to opposite sides of campus, towards their various objectives and their differing yet intimately intertwined destinies. 

-

Leon raced, or his version which was something between a fast walk and an awkward jog, across campus to his first quest. It seemed easy enough: “Go to the gym” it read. Leon wasn’t exactly one for physical fitness but he at least knew where the health center was from campus orientation tour.

Despite his slow pace by the time he reached it he was out of breath. For a moment he stood in front of automatic double doors, panting and intimidated. He stuck out like a sore thumb on this part of campus, dressed in the ratty strained Superman shirt and baggy shorts his protruding belly and wild unkempt hair stood in stark contrast to the muscular adonis in low tank tops and tall fit women in matching sports sets who brushed by him without a second thought. Mustering his courage Leon walked through the doors and into the gym. His ears were greeted by the sound of slamming weights, rhythmic grunts, and a small ding as he completed his first quest and leveled up. He watched as the experience bar filled fully, bumping his level up to two and filling his vision with notifications. The bar continued to fill until it had reached halfway to the next level. A notification appeared in a gray box with plain white blocky text.

You have reached level two. You receive attribute points based on your class: +3 Strength, +1 Charisma +0.3 Intelligence.

Leon grinned as he felt himself change. He couldn’t actually feel himself getting smarter or more charismatic. He wasn't sure if that was because those were more cognitive stats or if it was because the increase was marginal compared to his strength. Either way, it was a strength that Leon felt himself receive. It wasn't much. Leon didn’t suddenly become a hulk or a bodybuilder but he felt something shift. His shoulders widened slightly, his chest inflated a bit and his butt became less saggy. A single vein buried deep in the layers of fat in his arm engorged itself with blood and snaked its way to the surface, pushed upwards by growing muscle and diminishing fat. He felt physically stronger, faster, like he might be able to actually run a bit without throwing up. He didn't actually look all that different, a quarter of an inch taller, a few pounds shifted from fat to muscle, but inside he felt amazing, electric, like this is what he was made for. Leon suspected that feeling had to do with the other notification waiting for him just below the first.

“You have gained a class perk.”

“Gym Rat: as a juggernaut, you feel comfortable in all athletic spaces.”

Leon felt all his worries and insecurities about being in the gym fade away. He scanned his student ID and strode past the muscled jock at the front counter confidently, flashing him a smile and a slight wave. Leon felt just as comfortable in the gym as if he was at the comic book shop, no more, he felt like he was at home chilling with Edward, like he could do anything and give a damn about who judged him. Leon knew he should be concerned about how this game had physically changed his body and mind so easily but he was too invigorated, too electrified, and he had another quest to do. 

“Do a push-up.” It read simply. 

Leon hadn’t tried to do a push-up since 8th grade gym class but he felt confident he was capable of it with the boost to strength he had received. Leon weaved through the various machines and stations manned by the university’s resident hunks and athletes, some gave him dirty looks but most looked right through him. Leon found he couldn’t care less. He found a corner of the free mat and assumed the push-up position. Despite the recent slight boost to his athleticism, it was a task easier said than done. Leon went down as far as he could until he felt his arms begin to shake, about an inch, then pushed himself up with substantial effort.

To his disappointment, the quest still read as incomplete. He reasoned it must be due to his, form. He tried to go lower but ended up face-first on the mat, unable to push himself up. He went to his knees and did a push-up but that didn’t count either. Nor did a push-up with his butt out in the air, or one in which he rested on the ground for a few seconds in the middle. Leon was about to give up when he saw a guy around his age approach. 

He didn't have the same gorilla bulk as some of the huge men in the gym but his body was visibly lean and defined through his tee-shirt, maybe a runner. “Need any help there” he asked. Leon couldn’t tell if he was being genuine or mocking but his new total comfort in the gym provided by his “Gym Rat” perk made him not care. 

“I’m trying to do a push-up.”

“Just one?” The guy asked with a grin. 

“Gotta start somewhere,” Leon said humbly. 

“Your problem is your stance.” He said. He instructed Leon to assume the plank position and then went about correcting Leon’s form. His arms were too close together, his core was not properly engaged, back not fully straight. The man introduced himself as Cal and then instructed Leon to try again. Leon tried another pushup lowering his body slowly “Lower, lower” Cal called Leon and complied though his face turned red and he wanted to die. Cal didn't let him stop till the tip of his dick was practically touching the mat. Then he went back up, slowly and with more exertion than he had ever used in his whole life. 

He was rewarded with a ding and a slew of notifications. 

“You have reached level three. You receive attribute points based on your class: +3 Strength, +1 Charisma +0.3 Intelligence.” 

“You have gained a class perk.”

“Perfect Form: as a juggernaut, you instinctually know the proper form to maximize the performance of any athletic endeavor.”

Leon felt his body shift again from where it lay crumpled on the mat. His stomach deflated slightly, and under his man boobs pecs started to form. His legs lengthened a bit causing his shorts to only reach his knees instead of past them. The changes were as small as the first but Leon couldn’t help but feel amazed. He tried to do another push-up and found that his body now naturally assumed the perfect position without him having to think about it. With his new points in strength, he was able to push out another perfect military-style push-up, and two more before he flopped down onto the mat, fully spent.

“You're getting the hang of it,” Cal said smiling. If he had seen Leon's body change he made no indication. “good luck on your workout,” he called out as he left.

“Yeah see you around man” Leon called after him. He felt on cloud nine. At this rate, Leon would reach level 10 by the hour. On cue, two more quests appeared for him to complete. He wondered how Edward was doing, if he had even gained one level by now. Maybe once Leon had power gamed his way into OP status he could help his friend with a quest or two. 

-

Edward walked across the quad at a brisk pace. He would have run if his bony arms and legs didn't make him look like a chicken when he did. Edward wasn’t quite as sold on this whole bizarre real life video game thing as Leon was but he also wasn’t about to let Leon leave him in the dust. Edward's first quest was pretty simple if non-specific, “be within 50 feet of 30 or more people”. 

Edwards tendency to avoid large crowds gave him the advantage of knowing exactly where they often were. The coffee shop by the quad came right to his mind. At this time of the day, the place was packed with students either leaving or going to their mid-day classes. The place terrified Edward, the thought of so many eyes on him, judging him, mocking him, and yet Edward reasoned there was no harm in at least checking the place out, it not as if the quest required him to talk to anyone. 

As he walked Edward wondered at the game. Leon, true to self had accepted the game right away without question. If his friend was muscular instead of fat he might be called a himbo. It wasn’t that he was dumb, he was getting a degree in public health, but he also didn't have a habit of thinking things through particularly throughly. Their freshmen year Leon had built a glider out of the shower curtain and broke his arm jumping off the second floor of their dorm with it. And last year Leon had thought it was a good idea to subscribe to some shady porn website that had given his computer a virus so corruptive even tech wizard Alvis couldn’t remove it. 

Though they were inseparable best friend Edward was the opposite. He was much more cautious about everything, sometimes to irrational extremes. Last semester Edward had almost dropped out because he was too nervous to get approval for his classes from his sociology advisor. If he was scared of his sixty-five year old sweet as candy professor talking to guys he liked was surly out of the question, not that he would have any hope of success with his appearance. 

As Edward walked across the quad he avoided eye contact with students crowded onto the open green sitting and chatting or throwing frisbees. Edward felt drowned in the sea of people, though the lawn wasn’t nearly dense enough to fulfill the quest. 

The line for the coffee shop was out the door which made him want to throw up. He walked slowly forward waiting for the quest to complete. Finally, when he was only a few feet away, practically in line the quest was fulfilled and his experience bar to level two filled fully.

Edward heard a “ding” in his head and several notifications filled his vision startling him.  

“You have reached level two. You receive attribute points based on your class: +3 Charisma, +1 Intelligence +0.3 Strength.”

“You have gained a class perk.”

“People Person: Those around you feel your natural charm and are more likely to accept you in a neutral or positive way, potentially even striking up a conversation.”

Edward felt a strange itch on his brow and a pressure on his jaw but ignored it. He didn't know what to make of the messages. The stats seemed somewhat consistent with role-playing video games, and he supposed the break down made sense with his class. Still, he wasn’t sure how something like charisma would be incorporated into real life, nor his new People Person perk. As a sociology major Edward knew all too well how complex human interaction was. The perk seemed to imply that not only would the game be changing him but also the people around him and their perceptions. He wasn’t sure if that was even possible not to mention ethical.

“Introduce yourself to a stranger,” the next quest said popping up on the side of Edward's vision. That more than any ethical quandary made Edward scared. It was all well and good for the game to claim that people would react positively to Edward but he knew firsthand that wasn’t true. 

“Hey, are you in line” two girls who had walked up behind him asked. Edward froze, realizing he had positioned himself at an awkward spot half in line half not. The girls didn't seem disgusted by his presence but they also didn't seem particularly enthralled, they just wanted to get their coffee. 

Edward nodded his head, the best he could do with his crippling social anxiety. He moved more obviously in line and the girl went back to chatting. As the line crept closer Edward tried and failed several times to work up the courage to introduce himself to the girls. He came up with various scenarios in his head of how he could make an introduction, all of which ended with the girl calling him a creep. 

Finally, after ten minutes, Edward reached the front of the line. He realized in his attempts to complete the quest he hadn’t so much as glanced at the menu. 

“What will you be having today” a tall tan worker asked, his tattooed arms pleasantly stretching out the sleeves of his shirt. Edward just opened and closed his mouth like a fish, mind suddenly blank of every coffee drink ever, including coffee. 

The worker, whose name tag ironically read “Tag” saw his confusion and smiled. “It's a big menu I know. It's fall, so you can never go wrong with a PSL.” He saw Edwards look confused and he sheepishly clarified “Pumpkin spice latte.”

“I’ll do that,” Edward said, voice quiet but clear. He took a deep breath then before he could think about it blurted out “I’m Edward by the way”. 

Tag gave a handsome grin and wrote the name on a cup. “Thanks, Edward, I’ll that get you out for you right away.”

Edward heard a “ding” but ignored it and the notifications that popped up as he paid on the tablet Tag turned towards him. His hands shook as he selected the largest tip options and stumbled over to the designated area to stand while waiting for a drink and looked at the notifications. 

“You have reached level three. You receive attribute points based on your class: +3 Charisma, +1 Intelligence, +0.3 Strength.”

“You have gained a class perk.”

“Social Sync: You are naturally attuned to the tone and rhythm of conversation making awkward pauses and interruptions a thing of the past.”

New quests popped up as well, two this time. “Make someone laugh” and “Offer someone advice.”

As the messages appeared Edward felt the same strange pain in his face, like the soreness he sometimes got after smiling all day with Leon. He lifted a hand to his face and felt skin much smoother than his normal rough, dry, pockmarked complexion. His weak chin, which had always been a source of insecurity no longer felt totally concave but pushed out somewhat lending a strange sharpness to his jaw. Edward was about to take out his phone to examine his reflection when he heard a voice beside him. 

“He’s so dreamy, isn’t he,” a man said in his right ear. All his life Edward had been painfully scrawny, wrists the size of cucumber and ribs showing through his pale skin. This man was even more slender like he could break with a strong gust of wind. He held a coffee cup that had the name Trent on the side. The guy didn't seem to mind Edwards's silence and continued staring at Tag longingly. “The coffee here is so bitter but the eye candy is so sweet” he mused. 

“Yeah that guy is what I would call a full-sized candy bar” the comment came out before Edward had time to think. It was a mediocre joke, wordy and unoriginal to a fault, but to painfully shy and unfunny Edward he felt like he was a standup comedian. Trent smiled and gave a slight chuckle, though his quest remained incomplete, probably because the laugh was fake.

“He’s a Snickers, and let's just say I’m not allergic to nuts.” Edward tried again, this time eliciting a better reaction from Trent. A slight giggle was all it took for the quest to complete and Edwards' experience bar to increase half the way to level four. 

“Well both of us are going to go hungry. He’s straight.”

“Really” Edward asked. As a closeted gay until he was 19, when he had finally worked up the courage to tell Leon, Edward thought he had pretty good gaydar, and that Tag guy was anything but straight. “How do you know?” He asked Social Sync perk causing him to put the perfect pause between his declaration of doubt and his question without him even noticing.

“He used to date some girl” Trent responded with a touch of disgust.

“Maybe he’s bi,” Edward said and Trent’s face lit up as if he had never considered the thought.

“Oh wow, do you really think so” He asked excitedly. “Now that you say it he is kind of flirty when he gives me my drink.”

“You should just go up and talk to him” Edward advised sagely. “I mean what is the worst that could happen.” The advice was hollow seeing as how Edward had never even breathed in the direction of any of his crushes. Trent seemed to sense this and looked at Edward dubiously. The game system however didn't seem to care. It marked his “give advice” quest as complete and alerted him he had reached level four with a ding. At this rate, Leon didn't stand a chance of reaching level ten before him. 

“You have reached level four. You receive attribute points based on your class: +3 Charisma, +1 Intelligence, +0.3 Strength.”

“Sage: Your charisma gives you an innate knowledge of people's desires, both conscious and unconscious. Note: The higher your charisma the more attuned this sense becomes. Note: this effect is 92.22% more effective on people with a penis.”

Edward felt a shift both in his physiology and in his brain, like before he felt his face move, bones like continental plates drifting every so slightly apart into a more attractive configuration. 

Inside his head, he felt something shift far more drastically. The three +1 boosts to his intelligence had been so slight he barely noticed them, just a slight speeding up of his thoughts and a boost to his reasoning ability. This new change in his mind was drastic, impossible not to notice. A sixth sense emerged, filling his head with a source of knowledge he wasn’t quite sure what to do with. It was almost as if he had gained the ability to read minds only not so strong and without any words, only feelings. Suddenly Edward felt Trent’s desire, a sexual one, not just for the barista, but also for the group of frat boys in the corner of the shop and strangely enough for Edward. He felt others' desires too, though much less clearly. 

Two guys standing to his left both hoped the other would buy the alcohol for tonight's party. The other men in the shop only gave wisps of desire. Edward suspected that had something to do with proximity and his still relatively low charisma.

The women on the other hand Edward could barely sense, only receiving a small tingle like TV static instead of anything readable. Edward wondered at that strange 92.22% bonus towards men. Edward took a moment to reflect on the class he had been assigned. Could Leon be right? Could the name of his class be a gay joke, that he was meant to charm not venomous creatures in baskets but instead the snake in men's pants? It seemed somehow too vulgar for a video game though Edward knew that was illogical. If it was true it begged some concerning questions, like how the game had known he was gay and what exactly it was setting him up to do. 

“Would you go talk to him?” Trent asked suddenly snapping Edward back to the present. His sixth sense faded to the back of his mind, though he could still sense Trent’s desire. “Sorry I know that's a lot to ask but I think you would have more luck than me.” He looked at Edward with puppy dog eyes filled with earnest hope. “Be my wingman?”

A notification appeared obscuring a part of Edward’s vision. 

“Quest offered! Set up Trent and Tag romantically. Reward: XP”

A box under the quest notification had two boxes with “yes” and “no” options. Edward had no idea how to select either option. Out loud he said “I’ll do my best,” the notification disappeared and reappeared small in the quest part of his interface. 

Trent smiled “Really? I can’t thank you enough.” He felt Trent’s desire shift from lust to hope. “Just like using a pickup line or something. Don’t make it too awkward” he said suddenly nervous.

“Don’t worry I got this,” Edward said with about 1000% times more confidence than he felt. He had absolutely no business getting other people's tail when he was still a virgin himself. Edward just knew he was going to make an absolute fool of himself.

-

It turned out that the quests to advance to level four were not as easy as Leon had imagined. The first quest “run a lap” proved exhausting but doable. Leon made his way to the elevated track that encircled the gym and with perfect form, if less perfect endurance, ran the loop. Before the game, Leon would have had to walk most of it, but the two levels and six points he had gained in strength allowed him to push through with a slow jog. The quest's completion bumped him 3/4 of the way to level four. He had no doubt the other quest would get him all the way there if only it was possible. 

“Do a pull-up.” How hard could one pull up be? Extremely difficult it turned out. Dangling from the elevated bar Leon tried with all his might to heft his flabby body up. He only managed to lift his head halfway before the effort became too much and he was forced to give up. 

Leon knew it wasn’t his form keeping him from completing the exercise like it had been with the push-up. Instead, it came down to a plain and simple lack of strength. Leon didn't know what to do. He felt frustrated that he had hit a roadblock so soon. He looked at the experience progress bar, so tantalizingly close to the next level. Maybe he would have to do it the old-fashioned way. Train his back and his biceps extensively until he could do a pull-up on his own. Leon knew something like that would take weeks if not months but he was nothing if not stubborn.

Determined not to give up Leon found a set of dumbbells and began to lift with perfect form. The activity didn't provide the same instant gratification as leveling up did, but Leon was starting to understand how people could get addicted to this. As he worked his eyes wandered to the graphical display imprinted on either side of his vision. He found he could unfocus on the information and the display would blur unobscuring his vision. He focused again and the quest and progress bar came back into his field of vision. Leon couldn’t tell if he was imagining it but it seemed as if the bar was more full. He did a few more curls and watched the progress bar tick up the tiniest amount. He lifted the other arm and it moved again. He grabbed the largest weight he could conceivably lift and using all this strength curled it with both arms, the progress bar moved, still not much but more than before. Leon grinned. He was pretty sure he had just found an exploit.

Thirty minutes later a tired Leon prepared for his last set of leg presses to get him to level four. The “exploit” he had found wasn’t as much of a hack as he had originally hoped. Working out gave him experience to fill the bar but not nearly as efficiently as quests. He had to go from machine to machine loading up the maximum amount of weight he could lift, not much, and completing various exercises until that part of his body was completely exhausted. His “perfect form” perk ensured that he was able to complete each exercise to its fullest despite not knowing how to do any of the exercises. All he had to do was approach a machine or a set of weights and his body would suddenly assume the position.

Even with his perfect form protecting him from injury Leon was exhausted. The day's gym session was more exercise than he had ever done in his life. His hair was matted to his forehead and dark sweat spots had appeared around the collar and pits of his Superman shirt. His body felt like a sack of bricks like he could fall asleep and not wake up till his next birthday. Leon persisted and as he performed his tenth leg press he heard a ding. His legs slammed back to their resting position and he breathed heavily, feeling his body begin to change and notifications pop up. 

“You have reached level four. You receive attribute points based on your class: +3 Strength, +1 Charisma +0.3 Intelligence.” 

“You have gained a class perk.”

“Animal Endurance: The rate at which athletic activities tire you is decreased significantly while the rate of recovery is greatly improved. Note: the potency of this effect scales off of strength.”

Leon felt his muscles harden, his arms bulge, his legs bulk up and shift. His core burned as his abs shredded themselves and strengthened. The layer of fat on Leon’s body, though still present thinned. Underneath it his muscles went from average to distinctly fit, no great titan yet but also not a slouch either. His weariness from all the exercise it took to reach level four drained away thanks to his perk and Leon once again felt reinvigorated. 

He marched over to the nearest pull-up bar and with only a small amount of effort hoisted himself up with the power of his upper body. The completed quest brought him a third of the way up to level five. Two more quests appeared. “Bench press a third of your body weight.” And “exchange workout tips”. Neither seemed especially difficult. 

Leon looked around to see if he could find Cal to knock out the more social of the quests but the helpful runner was nowhere to be seen. Instead, Leon found a benchpress machine and went to load it up. Leon was shocked to realize he had no idea what his body weight was. Before Altered Reality, Leon had weighed 230 pounds, now though he could be anything. Leon squinted at the holographic display in the sides of his vision and found with effort he was able to bring up a stats page. 

Leon: 

210 Pounds

5’10’’ Feet

Strength: 11

Charisma: 7

Intelligence: 8.9

When he played video games with his roommates Alvis was the one who focused on the numbers, min-maxing his character to be the strongest possible. Edward liked to talk to the NPCs, to understand the story, and Leon, well Leon liked to punch things and not worry too much about the boring stuff. Still, with his 8.9 in intelligence, Leon couldn't help but notice some changes to his body composition. There was the inch in height his body had gained from those three levels and the twenty pounds of weight he had lost. Leon suspected the total loss was more like 30 or 40 pounds of fat but that the added muscle made up the difference. His stats were interesting too. Leon hadn’t much thought about it but based on the quests and perks he had received the Juggernaut class seemed to be one that focused on athleticism. Despite that, he still received a marginal boost to charisma and intelligence at each level which he supposed were meant to keep him well rounded. Leon did the math, the current numbers would mean that his intelligence before the game had been eight, which seemed right, and his strength a two, also unfortunately right. The four in charisma seemed rude, but Leon supposed he had never had much luck with women for a reason.

Doing math once again Leon loaded up the bench press, factoring in the weight of the bar to reach seventy pounds one-third of his weight. He assumed the position under it, with perfect form thanks to his perk; then with substantial effort, Leon lifted the bar over his chest and with as much control as he could manage lowered it. That was the easy part, the hard part was pushing it back up. Leon clenched his toes, bugged his eyes, and pushed with all his eleven strength upward. His mind suddenly flashed to the bar crushing him, rolling down onto his neck and ending this game. Panic more than determination got the bar up and back to its starting position. The quest was completed and the progress bar to level five was filled in another third. 

Only once the bar was fully returned to its resting position could Leon see the girl standing over him, upside down from his prone view. 

“I was ready to pull that thing off you.” The girl said in something between a mix of condescension and admiration. Leon sat up.

“Umm, thanks.” He said nervously. He recognized this girl from his advanced biology seminar, although she didn't seem to know him. She looked very pretty with her high ponytail and tight yoga pants, which only made his voice stutter more. “I’m Leon.”

“Cassy,” she said.

An idea came to his mind. “Got any tips for this one?” Leon asked, hoping to knock out his remaining quest. 

Before Cassy could answer though a tall man in a low-cut tank top that showed off his ripped torso and cannonball shoulders approached and wrapped his mammoth vascular arms around her. “Cassy, why the fuck are you talking to this fatty?” He asked as if Leon were some flaming garbage outside his window, offensive to his sight. Leon recognized him as a member of Alpha Sigma, one of the best and most dickish fraternities on campus.  

“Fuck off Hunter” Cassy said rolling her eyes.

“Yeah fuck off Hunter” Leon repeated. He instantly regretted it.

Hunter's eyes went wide, and a vein on his neck began to pulse. Leon stared back at him with a level of defiance he knew defied both the social order and logic. Leon had always been brash, a trait now manifested in full force by the extreme comfort he felt in the gym due to his Gym Rat perk.

Cassy shot him a look asking if he was trying to get himself killed then turned to Hunter to defuse the situation. “Come on babe let's go.” 

Hunter heard none of it. He got right up in Leon's face so close Leon could smell the sweat on his body and the ZYN in his breath. “Listen here tubby, this is a gym. The McDonalds is down the street. Now fuck off or I’ll turn your happy meal into chicken tenders. Ya hear?” He stood up and started to walk away Cassy unhappily following after him. “And don’t ever talk to my girl again homo.”

Leon knew he should be scared but instead, he found the whole interaction funny, his “Gym Rat” perk really might be working too well. “Got any gym tips for me” he called after Hunter, wanting to still get something out of the interaction. He couldn’t wait till he was bigger than that arrogant prick and no one could talk to him that way.

The frat bro turned around “Eat a fucking salad” he called. Leon’s last quest remained incomplete. He wondered why for a second then realized it said “exchange workout tips.” 

“You should really get off the roids, it's killing the last two of your brain cells,” Leon called after him. Hunter moved to turn around, probably to beat the shit out of Leon but Cassy grabbed his hand and dragged him away. The quest completed and Leon reached level five. Not too bad for seven charisma he thought proudly. The now familiar ding sounded along with a wall of notifications. Leon began to feel strange. A biting ache began to thrum in the pit of his stomach. Doubled over Leon rushed to the bathroom, careful to head in in the opposite direction of Hunter and Cassy. 

He burst into the empty men's room and then into the nearest stall he could find. As he sat on the toilet the pain intensified. Something was happening and it hurt like all hell.

-

Edward had no idea why Trent had even started talking to him. That wasn’t something people ever did to ugly Edward, maybe point and whisper, but never strike up a conversation and surly never ask him for help. It must be his stupid charisma and perks scrambling everyone's brain he concluded. Edward was about to turn back to Trent and tell him he had made a mistake and that he actually couldn’t help him when he heard “Edward” yell from behind the bar. He saw Tag the sexy fit barista holding a steaming to-go cup and looking around the coffee shop for Edward. Trent gave him an encouraging smile and a thumbs up.

Edward felt as if he was moving in slow motion like he was making his way to the gallows. Tag saw him coming and smiled, extending the drink towards him. Edward reached out to take the drink, his finger ever so slightly brushing up against Tag’s hand in the process. He wasn’t sure if it was the touch or just the proximity but he felt his new “Sage” perk activate in vivid detail.

A picture suddenly flashed in Edward’s mind. A subterranean location full of flashing lights and loud rhythmic music, a rave Edward realized. He saw Tag standing alone in an open button-down shirt showing off sexy tattooed muscles. Edward flashed back to reality. His sudden vision had caused him to linger a bit too long grabbing his drink and he jerked his hand away awkwardly. 

Edward retracted his hand and gave a smile hoping to save the moment. “Hey, are you going to the rave tonight?” Edward asked as casually as he could “I think I have seen you at a few before. I heard the one tonight is supposed to be especially hype.”

Tag seemed surprised for a moment then reassessed Edward his demeanor shifting from customer service friendly, to peer in-group easygoing. “You mean sewer fest? I want to man, but all my friends are busy tonight and I don’t want to go alone.”

“Oh damn that sucks,” Edward said. He was mindful of the stares he was getting from the other students around him but couldn’t bring himself to care, this was going too well. “I wish I could go but I have a paper I have to write tonight. My friend Trent was actually just saying he was thinking about going though.” Edward pointed back at Trent who gave a little wave. 

“Oh, I know him.” Tag said when he saw Trent. “That would be sick man. I really don’t want to miss Sewer Fest. How about this,” he took a cup sleeve and started to write on it, “Give your friend my number and tell him to text me” he handed it to Edward. 

“Will do. You two have fun” Edward said as he walked away. Trent looked at him wide-eyed and was about to say something but Edward made a signal that they shouldn’t talk about it inside.

“This is for you,” Edward said as he handed Trent Tag’s number once they were outside. 

“No way. You're actually a god. How did you do that?” Trent asked amazed.

“Don’t get too excited,” Edward said sheepishly. “You're going to a rave, and it’s in the sewer.” 

“A rave? You know what, I’ll take it. I really can’t thank you enough.” 

“Oh, it was nothing. Honestly, you helped me just as much as I helped you.”

Trent ignored the cryptic comment. “Well I should go, I guess I have to find an outfit to wear to a sewer. Would all white be a bad idea?” He handed Edward his phone. “Will you put your number in my phone? I’ll text you how tonight goes.” 

The two exchanged information then Trent left. Edward stood there sipping his latte, which really was too bitter. He saw Trent typing out a message on his phone as he walked away.

Moments later Edward heard a “ding” as the quest was completed and he reached level five. Notifications sprung up in his vision, more than usual. Edward couldn’t read them, he couldn’t focus on anything. His mostly full coffee slipped out of his hand and spilled onto the ground as a golden nebula sprung up around him and his face and body were wracked with pain. He started to scream.

[silaslich]

The heat of imposition

John “Soap” Mactavish x f!reader x Simon “Ghost” Riley

Summary - Rugby AU. While watching a rugby match with Kyle you happen to catch the attention of not one, but two of the players. Neither of them like the fact that the other wants you too. [part 1/3]

Wc - 4.8k

An - I know fuck all about rugby so ignore any inaccuracies, we’re here for sex not rugby

It isn’t by chance that you find yourself at the pitch.

Your arm had been twisted- hands tied. You’d lie and say you had no choice, but the truth is that you simply have nothing better to do on a random rainy Saturday in October.

Kyle hadn’t given you much of an alternative when it came to making plans; his idea of fun might be sitting in the cold as he nurses a cheap beer and ogles a cluster of beefed-up middle aged men while they run around tackling each other- but you? It wasn’t exactly what you had in mind when he’d texted you and asked if you were free to hang out.

You know him well enough to know that he’s called you in to be his wingman; someone to keep the beers coming to feed his already brimful confidence, someone that will push him if the chance for him to chat someone up arises. It’s what usually happens when the two of you meet for a drink or for dinner, his eyes wander and his intuition carries him toward the closest thing to a decent lay.

You’ll wave him off with a smile and mouth at him to call you when it’s convenient- usually to update you on how incredible or lacklustre the sex he’d abandoned you for was. You’re not bitter about it, not really, you have to give it to him. At least one of you is getting something. You suppose it’s for lack of trying, what with work and a sheltered nightlife- you can’t exactly say you’re putting yourself out there.

Kyle has tried time after time, sliding folded pieces of paper with your number scrawled on it to punters as they sit at the bar waiting for their drinks or pulling you with him as he ventures to the dance floor- accidentally bumping you into strangers, drawing their eyes and their attention. You appreciate his efforts, but you’re not exactly looking, it’s all the same to you. You’d slept around abit at uni and enjoyed it to a point, chasing that high and filling the endless void of assignments and work placements- you need something more now.

Settling is a scary thought. You’re not sure that’s what you’re after, but you don’t want a meaningless one-night stand either. You haven’t found that happy-healthy medium yet, you can’t be sure it exists. At least not to the men in this town, everyone knows everyone- it’s hard to get away from that.

You grit your teeth hard, feeling the way the cold ebbs its way into your bones. Even the beer isn’t keeping you warm, and that usually does the trick.

“Is it nearly over yet?” Your teeth chatter around the words, Kyle tuts at you.

“You can’t be serious” he turns to look at you, noting that you are in fact very serious. He frowns slightly. “It’s not even halftime yet”.

The sound that’s choked out of your throat makes him quirk a brow. Yet, Kyle’s attention is drawn back to the pitch by the sound of a whistle, some kind of swap between players has stilted the gameplay.

You’re not that well versed in rugby. Have kept up with it here and there, mainly because of Kyle and your boss because it’s all they talk about at work. They put it on every telly in the pub when their favourite team is on and they start to become idle when it comes down to the last few minutes of gameplay- stood there like toddlers that are transfixed by dancing fruits on a screen.

It’s quite funny really, watching Kyle as he barely tries to make it look as though he’s still working- rubbing a dry cloth over an already cleaned down table.

“Oh shit” Kyle’s breath carries on the breeze, drifting across your face as he speaks. It’s just that cold.

“What’s happening?” You mimic Kyle in the way he leans forward in his seat, watching carefully at what’s unfolding on the pitch.

Kyle doesn’t answer, instead watching as the away team’s players crowd together, meanwhile the home team congregates closer to their benches- they’re swapping someone on.

You see a wide smile crack across his face from out the corner of your eye, it pulls you to look at him fully. Seeing his wide-expectant eyes and gaped mouth, you grimace, slightly put off by just how much he’s enjoying watching on- you think you’d rather watch paint dry.

“When do they start brawling, ay? This is boring” you smack your lips together and take a heavy swig of your beer. It warms your throat, barely. Kyle turns to look at you, smiling like an idiot.

“Funny you should say that” he raises his brows and jerks his head in the direction of the players they’re swapping- you follow his gaze, it doesn’t enlighten you in the slightest.

You open your mouth to question him but Kyle beats you to it, already preempting your confusion and overall lack of culture for his favourite sport and his favourite team.

“They’re putting their main prop on, Riley” Kyle’s eyes watch the player in question and so do you, observing his team mates as they pump their fists and clap him on the back- following on as he moves further onto the pitch.

“He fight often?” You ask, eyeing the dark ink that stretches across both of his arms and retreats under the sleeves of his jersey.

There’s skulls and bones and snakes and gnashing teeth that make up a portrait of something that might be a dog. It’s hard to tell from all the way up in the stands; you’re sat within hearing distance of their shouts as the players go over strategy- but your eyes can’t quite focus enough to read the letters that brand his knuckles and the blocks of black ink that cover the backs of his hands. Shame.

Kyle laughs, something deliberate and knowing. “Yeah, you could say that”. His smile is hiding something, you just know it. You raise a wry brow.

“That why he was benched?” The look on Kyle’s face alone tells you all that you need to know, he nods as you shake your head with an unamused sigh.

“He’s been benched the last few games, close to being banned altogether from what I hear” Kyle observes Riley as he speaks, they’re about to restart play with a scrum.

You continue watching the game, noting another player that’s almost as big as Riley is. The back of his jersey reads Mactavish. He has a sharp smile on him, even with his mouth guard, you can’t closely see the rest of his features all that well, apart from his grown out mohawk- you didn’t realise this was the 70s.

Mactavish is quick to be on Riley, jumping high and wrapping his arms around the bigger man’s neck, hanging off him like a scarf. Their mouth-guard-smiles are wide and Riley swats at Mactavish, manhandling him until he’s got him hoisted off the ground entirely- that’s when he pushes him away and kicks his legs out from underneath him. Sending him skidding across the grass.

It’s rough housing. Simple play fighting. Kyle tells you it’s common practice for these two in particular, spending half their time butting heads and charging at each other like rhinos. Much to the dismay of their coach by the sounds of it. A whistle blows and it’s shrill in your ears.

“Pack it in bellends! Head in the game!” There’s a gruff looking man shouting from the side lines, he’s tall and broad with a beanie that’s pulled tight over his head- there’s specks of salt and pepper hairs in his mutton chops.

The two men snap their necks toward the coach and do as their told, trying to kick each others legs out from one another as they run toward where the rest of their team is forming up to restart play.

It’s starting to get interesting, because they’re not half bad to look at, these two, not half bad at all. Mactavish especially, bar the haircut. Riley on the other hand, he’s got that unconventional attractiveness about him; with his wonky nose and ashen blonde hair, hooded eyes that contrast heavily- they’re as dark as his tattoos. Perhaps it’s the way he carries himself too- his wide shoulders and thick chest, strong and solid and unbothered by the way the other men move out of his way when he passes the opposite team.

You don’t realise you’re gawping until Kyle waves his hand in front of your face, making you blink. He laughs to himself.

“Like what you see?” He asks, amused, watching as your cheeks flare. You bristle.

“Fuck off” you hate being caught out, especially after giving Kyle gripe this whole time about how boring all of this is. You stand abruptly, “I’m off to get something to eat, you want something?” Kyle eyes you, a smirk creeping up his face.

“Something salty if you don’t mind” he wags his brows and you smother your palm into his face as you squeeze past his legs to retreat down the steps toward the food kiosks. You hear his laugh follow you as you reach the bottom of the steps.

You keep an eye on the game as you walk, flitting your eyes from the pitch to the ground so you don’t slip on the steps. As you steal another glance over toward the home team, you find a pair of bright blue eyes looking right back at you. So blue they practically glow, burning right through you. As blue as celestite, something shines in them when he looks at you- but you’re quick to look away and scurry down the steps. Cheeks heating once again, for reasons even you’re not sure of.

It’s without your knowledge that Mactavish’s eyes follow you the entire time as you retreat. His stare trained on you. Distracted completely. Riley is quick to bring him back to earth, watching Mactavish watch you, he grunts as he steps toward the Scotsman, yanking out his mouth guard with a wet shlack sound.

“You ‘aven’t got a chance, now move your arse” Riley smacks the back of Mactavish’s head when he doesn’t move, watching you right up until the point you disappear out of his view. The Scot smiles wildly around his mouth guard, then spits it into his hand.

“Wanna bet?” he turns to Riley and Riley has seen that look before, many times, and it’s never ended well. Yet, he raises a brow as he looks down at the Scot, matching that same look himself.

After paying extortionate prices for a portion of chips and a burger to split you forego another beer each and go for water instead. It’s blatant daylight robbery.

You make a point not to look out onto the pitch as you make your way back to Kyle, save yourself from embarrassment and ending up falling on your arse. Kyle moves his knees to allow you past and you slump down into the seat, offering up the food to him so you can take a swig of water.

“You okay? You look flush, was it a long walk?” He picks up a few chips at a time as he shoves them into his mouth, chewing quickly and blowing air through his mouth from how piping hot they still are. You throw him a look, an unimpressed look.

“I’m freezing my tits off Kyle and I’m hungry, allow it” it’s a whine that leaves your mouth and Kyle soothes you mockingly, offering you some chips- you take them gladly.

Halftime comes and goes. The food has sated you, if only a little bit, but it saves Kyle from any more of your complaining. You find it easier to follow now, a belly full of food and the rest of Kyle’s beer that he didn’t want to finish- it makes you more palpable, makes you sit a little less stiff in your horribly uncomfortable plastic seat. Kyle appreciates it.

Mactavish and Riley don’t escape your eyes, not for the remainder of the game. It’s easier to gawp at them from up here, if they glanced over they wouldn’t exactly know that your eyes are fixed on them specifically, all they’d see is a pair of eyes looking in their general direction- obviously just following the ball as it passes hands. Little do you know, that they are indeed glancing over, as fixed on you as you are them, they’re just better at being sly with it. Only moving their eyes and not their heads and necks, not making it obvious. Not until Mactavish ups the ante.

It’s as you’re distracted for a second, turning your attention to your phone- your boss, Nik, asking if you can come in tonight. You text back quickly, letting him know you’ll see him at six. Looks like Kyle isn’t getting away from me at all today. That’s when you feel Kyle’s elbow in your ribs.

“Ow” you make a point to overemphasise, nudging his arm away from you like his touch burns.

“Look” his hand pats down repeatedly on your thigh as his opposite hand points towards the pitch, your eyes follow the point of his finger and your face pales.

It’s Mactavish. Waving both arms to get your attention, and when he has it his face beams- it makes you sink down into your seat, beyond blushed and embarrassed. He continues to wave as he rejoins the play, you watch the teams come back his way and then he winks at you, moving to turn fully to flank a teammate.

“Lucky bitch” Kyle’s mouth hangs open in shock, looking from you to Mactavish as he darts across the pitch. You groan.

“You have him then” Kyle laughs but you don’t, as nice as the player is to look at, you’re not in the mood for games.

“He wasn’t waving at me, love” he wags his brows and grabs your arm, flailing it around as he giggles like an idiot, far more excited for this than you are. You sit stock still and ignore Kyle, hoping he’ll pack it in. He does- eventually.

Before long, the game finishes and it’s the home team who are victorious. They jump and shout and knock into one another, again pulling each other into embraces and slapping each other’s backs with closed fists. It’s all well and good, you stand and pull Kyle with you- you’ve had enough of Rugby for one day.

Kyle lets himself be pulled along, filtering out amongst the thinning crowd. You’ve both got a few hours before you’re due to go into work, a quick nap wouldn’t go amiss, you guess it depends how fast Kyle can drive.

You’re walking in step with Kyle, careful of the slippy stairs, you clutch the sleeve of his jacket for stability and then there’s a voice that rings out. Thick with a Scottish accent and with an abundance of audacity to go with it.

“Oi! She yer lass or wha’?” It’s Mactavish, and he’s looking directly at Kyle, jogging over toward the stands.

Kyle stiffens and you glance at his face, he looks startled. Or would it be star struck? These players are celebrities to Kyle, you imagine this isn’t how he would want his first interaction with them to go. You watch Mactavish as he vaults over the first set of barriers, coming closer to where Kyle is now frozen to the spot- you’re stuck alongside him.

The stands are completely separate to the pitch and are raised up off of the ground instead of starting right at the pitch side, so Mactavish can’t actually get that close to talk. He instead has to settle for standing about ten foot beneath where you and Kyle are stood, craning his neck to grin up at the two of you. From this improved distance you can see him a lot clearer. There’s a prominent scar that cuts through his right eyebrow and reaches down his cheek and there’s the slight growth of stubble coming through on his cheeks and chin. He’s more handsome close up, you’ll give him that, it goes with the brashness he exudes. He knows he’s pretty.

He’s out of breath as he stands there, hands on his hips and so sweat slicked that you can see the way it drips down from his chin to his chest. It’s his eyes, still, they’re hardly natural. So bright and pale and beautiful to look at, you could fall right into them.

“Well?” The Scot wants an answer, you’re sure he won’t move until he’s got one.

Kyle wets his lips to speak but you cut him off.

“I’m no one’s lass, mate” there’s certain ways to hit on women, and coming right up to them and asking whoever they happen to be with if they’re single or not isn’t the best way- not in your humble opinion at least.

“Good news f’me then” his smirk cracks across his face, impossibly wide, your face doesn’t change at all. Still not impressed.

“What makes you think that?” It’s a honest question for him, does he think that because he plays a sport (sometimes)professionally that you’ll let him get in your pants? Does he seriously think that?

The man dips his chin as he stands there, shaking his head, it messes up the sweat-soaked length of his mohawk, when he looks back up at you again it’s messier then it had been. His smile is just as wide as before, his eyes crinkle from the autumnal sun as it beams from behind you. He flattens a palm to his chest and taps against it.

“Names Johnny” you raise a brow at him but it doesn’t deter him, not even in the slightest.

You’re not giving him clear indicators that you’re completely uninterested, more so that you don’t appreciate how he’s gone about the whole thing. Again, you must admit, he’s very lovely to look at.

It’s quick when you walk away, a game of chase, he can suffer for his pig-headedness. Kyle stands there, a little more than dumbfounded, while he wants to follow you- he also wants to speak with Mactavish, he’s been a fan for a long time. When he turns to look at the Scot down below, he finds him still smiling up at him, there’s a look of mischief in his eyes.

Only a few feet behind him stands another, it’s Riley, and he’d heard every word of your conversation with Johnny. He guesses the game is set now they know for sure that you’re single, but let’s be honest, they would have both been game even if you weren’t.

______________________________________

“Hold on a second, say that again?” Your jaw is locked tight, molars grinding, he can’t be serious.

Kyle scratches at the back of his head, sheepishly, there’s worry lines that are creasing his forehead as he looks between you and Nik. Good, he should be worried where you’re concerned. He fucked up.

“Look I said I’m sorry, alright? What was I supposed to say to him?” Kyle sits on a stool at the bar, opposite to where you and Nik stand side by side on the other side of it.

Nik throws you a glance and you shake your head at him, he’s just as unimpressed as you are, you both know that Kyle is smarter then this- at least, he is most of the time.

“How about not telling him where I work? Thats a start. May as well tell him where I live, Kyle” your tone drifts, while Kyle is your friend, he clearly hadn’t thought before he’d spoken. Thinking more about impressing his rugby idols than the safety of his best mate, these guys could be any breed of weirdo for all you know.

“I agree with her Kyle, you need to think before you say things like that” Nik folds his arms over his chest, thick brows furrowed as he stares at Kyle, who is scratching a single finger against the polished wood of the bar top.

You aren’t trying to gang up on him, he knows he shouldn’t have told Mactavish anything, but he still did- that wouldn’t change just because he suddenly felt bad. He’s got some grovelling to do, to say the least.

“Do you want to head home? I’m sure we can find a way to manage, doll” Nik’s eyes find yours, he’s always been a softie, always looking out for you like you’re the kid he never had. Your brows furrow.

“Absolutely not, I’m not about to be bullied out of work by a bunch of thick skulled ball chasers. Let ‘em try something Nik, they’ll soon find out” you leave the conversation at that, following the repeated wails of the glasswasher in the back as it lets you know it’s ready to be emptied.

—————————————————————————

For the most part, the night is typical. It’s a busy Saturday night in a louder part of town and there’s everyone from regulars to students to tourists. It’s an easier night for you thanks to Kyle, his want to get back in your good books means he’s doing all of the shit jobs. Cleaning the bogs and serving tables. Clearing the glasses away and scrubbing the sticky tables. All while you’re tucked behind the bar pulling pints and making drinks, it’s something you could get used to, Kyle should piss you off more often if this is the treatment you get.

You watch the clock out of habit and notice it’s almost half nine, only an hour and half before you close, not long before you can go home and wash the day away and sleep all of this off. You just have to get through another hour and a half unscathed, that’s it.

Mactavish dashes those plans.

Before you see them, you hear them. It looks like the whole team might be here, they pile in through the door and already look as if they’re half Irish. You fight the urge to roll your eyes, knowing you’re in full view of not just them but other customers too.

Mactavish squeezes through the bodies as they linger around the booths and seats, not all able to fit comfortably, Mactavish sings your name.

“Fancy seein’ you here, bonnie” he grins wide, no longer obstructed by the mouth guard.

Compared to earlier when he was covered in grass stains and sweat, you hate to admit that he scrubs up well. Dressed casually with a shirt that’s close to matching his eyes, he doesn’t seem like the type if you’re honest.

“Oh yes, what a coincidence” the sarcasm reaches, you watch it in his eyes, the way his jaw flexes. He smiles and shakes his head.

“Tough nut to crack, ain’t ya?” He’s unapologetic with the way his eyes wander, the music thumps loudly in your ears but you can still hear the heaviness the alcohol adds to his tongue.

“What makes you think I wanna be cracked?” You make a point to busy your hands, to do anything to distract you from his eyes, there’s lemons in front of you that need slicing- they’ll suffice.

He raises a brow at that. Sliding his elbows onto the bar, bringing his height down to yours, eye to eye, if you’d just look at him.

“Saw the way you were lookin’ at me bonnie” he drops his tone, practically husks the words, he’s teasing. You laugh.

“Bein’ pretty bold to say I’ve got a knife in my hand” you hammer the point in, bringing the knife down heavier then before against the chopping board only to raise it up to slide your finger across it to catch the juice. He watches you carefully.

“You know how to use it?” He asks, again teasing, seeing how much he can get away with. He wants to soften you up. It’ll take more than that.

“D’you wanna find out?” It’s an open question, depending on how he behaves he could very well lose a finger, you’d deal with any charges he might want to press tomorrow. He just grins at you stupidly.

“I wanna take you out” he leans forward, reaching an arm over the bar to swipe a lemon slice, you watch as he sucks it into his mouth. Never breaking his eyes from yours, he’s got you.

“I want a lot of things, doesn’t mean I can have ‘em” you haven’t clocked him yet, not completely, he seems pretty harmless. But don’t they all?

He hums, sliding the lemon out of his mouth between his fingers, considering you. “Could give ‘em to you” his eyes meet yours but you’re quick to look away, returning to the lemons.

You scoff. “If I agree to a date will you go away? I’m working” just because you agree to something doesn’t mean you’re obliged, you’ll think on it more clearly when you’re not at work- being stared at by those burning blue eyes.

“Pretty rubbish conditions if ye ask me” he slurps at the lemon obnoxiously, you see the flash of a tongue piercing.

“Well forget it then-“ he interjects.

“Chill yerself bonnie, I’m goin’” he holds his hands up in surrender as he stands back to his full height, the lemon slice is replaced back between his teeth- for a brief moment.

He moves to step away but he’s quick to turn on his heel, chewing the lemon down till it slots inside his cheek. “Be back for yer number to arrange that date” he wags a finger in your general direction as he speaks, quickly turning back toward the booth where his teammates are all squashed in together.

—————————————————————————

Half an hour. Just half an hour and you can start to close up. It’s the light at the end of the tunnel.

Mactavish had behaved since leaving you at the bar, hardly looking in your direction, which you appreciated. You didn’t need him and his stupid blue eyes knocking you off of your concentration, not when you’re handling this much glass. You steal a glance over at his table from time to time, hearing his roaring laugh and watching the way he interacts with his mates. They all look close. Perhaps it’s the alcohol, making them soft, sitting on each other’s thighs with arms slung around each others necks. You imagine it’s normal that they’re all so close, they must spend hours and hours and hours together just training let alone at matches.

It’s quietening down now as a whole, some tables still linger to chatter, like the rugby lot. Most have gone now, moving onto the better clubs, this is just a pit stop usually- somewhere to line their stomachs before they get so paralytic that they’re soon laid in the streets laughing their heads off or spewing their guts up.

It’s an opportune time to start clearing glasses, now that the bar is quiet if not ready to close. Gaz is in the cellar doing whatever it is that he does down there, you hate it down there. So you’ll take the better job of clearing glasses and shoving them in the washer, fully prepared to forget about them until you’re back tomorrow.

This is usually the case, balancing a dozen glasses on one tray because you’re too lazy to make two trips. You’re so close to the bar, almost within reaching distance, and then someone from the rugby table throws his hands up and throws you off balance.

You close your eyes as you feel yourself tumbling, you’ve had too many shards of glass blasted out of your eyes by Nik and his saline bottle of doom, so you squeeze them shut tightly. There’s suddenly a warm pressure that coils around your waist but you’re too distracted by the sound of the glasses smashing to think about it. You dare to crack your eyes open, gaze immediately falling to the ground and seeing the mess that you’ve made. For fucks sake. Your eyes skate from the broken glass on the floor to the hand at your waist, gripping you tight, flush with something solid.

From up close you can see now that the tattoos on his left knuckles read soul.

Riley’s breathing is heavy against your spine and you don’t move, you daren’t move, and it seems Riley is much the same. Not until you hear a whistle from across the rugby table.

“Looks real cosy, Simon” that accent, it’s Johnny.

[goblinontour]

This Love Starved Heart Of Mine

he’s tired…

warnings: dad!alex, fluff, talking, eventual smut, handjob, fingering, fucking

word count: 8.6k

The stains on his slacks were a mystery he had neither the energy nor desire to solve. A smudge of something pale and sticky on his thigh could’ve been formula. His knee was streaked with something brown — coffee, maybe, though it was too far down for that to make sense. He wouldn’t dwell on the rest, the older stains faded into the fabric, their origins forgotten or ignored. He couldn’t remember. He didn’t care. The smattering on his shirt, though — that was fresh. A pale orange, probably from the mashed sweet potato Poppy had decided belonged anywhere but her mouth.  

He stared at the mess on his chest as if it were an accusation. He’d wiped it earlier, hadn’t he? Or maybe that was yesterday. God, he didn’t even know anymore.  

What he did know was that he couldn’t do this. Not alone. He’d thought he couldn’t do it at all, but this — this endless symphony of crying, cooking, cleaning, existing — was definitely impossible solo.  

The hum of the range hood over the stove grew louder, like a dull roar against his temples, even though it had been on for barely five minutes. A pot of something — a soup he was loosely following a recipe for — bubbled on the back burner, the spoon lying crooked in the pot like it was waiting for him to do something.  

But he couldn’t.  

Alex’s hands trembled over the cutting board, the knife clenched too tightly in his grip. He was halfway through dicing carrots — well, maybe a third of the way, if he was being honest. The pieces on the board were uneven, some chunks too big, some practically shaved. He didn’t care. None of it mattered.  

Because from the baby monitor propped precariously against the salt shaker, Poppy’s cries sliced through the air. Loud and clear. He didn’t need the video feed to know what it looked like. She’d be on her back, her face red and scrunched, little fists flailing at the unfairness of the world.  

The sound stabbed through him, sharper than the knife he was holding. He’d always thought it was supposed to get easier, that eventually, he’d adjust to…to everything. But it hadn’t. If anything, it felt worse. More oppressive. More constant.  

He set the knife down — or tried to. Instead, the blade sank into the cutting board, embedding itself with a soft crunch of wood. His chest heaved as he leaned forward, both hands gripping the edge of the counter.  “I can’t do this.” he muttered, his voice shaking as he stared blankly at the baby monitor. His reflection glared back at him in the dark screen, overlaid with the grainy image of her squirming. His words came again, quieter this time, barely audible over the din of the kitchen. “I can’t- fuck, I can’t-”  

None of it felt like enough. He wasn’t enough.  

And then, faintly at first, he heard the familiar rhythm of your footsteps in the hallway.  

“Sorry it took so long, baby.” you murmured, your voice drifting into the kitchen like sunlight after a storm.  

Alex straightened instinctively, though his body still felt stiff and leaden. Relief hit him in a wave, so fast it almost made him dizzy. The mere sound of you was enough to pull him back from the edge. You stepped into the kitchen, shrugging off your coat and tossing it toward the back of a chair. Your gaze landed on him, and you froze.  

“Hey, Al.” Your tone shifted immediately, soft and careful in a way that made his throat tighten. “You alright?”  

He nodded too quickly, his jaw tightening as he forced himself to meet your eyes. “Yeah…yeah.” His voice cracked on the second ‘yeah’ but he didn’t stop. He needed to say something, anything, to deflect. “You should-” He gestured vaguely toward the baby monitor, holding it up in one hand like it was a lifeline. “She’s-”  

You didn’t wait for him to finish. “Yeah.” Kicking off your shoes, you crossed the room in three quick strides. He watched as you disappeared up the stairs, your voice softening as you murmured something — maybe to Poppy, maybe to yourself. He couldn’t tell.  

His hands trembled as he ran them through his hair, tugging lightly at the strands like it might help clear the fog in his brain. The wailing had stopped. Just like that, the silence felt louder than the crying ever had.  

Fuck, Alex, you can’t think the world’s gonna end every time, he thought, the words landing sharp in his mind. He took a shaky breath and forced himself to push — push past the weight, push himself up, both figuratively and quite literally. His hands braced the counter as he straightened, his legs stiff.  

The knife still stuck out of the cutting board, its edge caught in the groove it had made. He reached for it, his grip careful, and plucked it free with a soft scrape. For a moment, he just stared at the mark left behind, his thumb running over the shallow scar in the wood. He could fix it, probably. Sand it down, oil the surface — make it like new again.  

Maybe.  

Maybe it didn’t need replacing. Maybe things could be solved and not thrown away so easily.  

He’d fix it.

Before he could linger too long on the thought, he heard your voice, soft and full of that almost-laughter you got whenever you talked to her.  

“Say hi to Dada.” you murmured.  

It wasn’t quite the over-the-top baby voice you’d both sworn you’d never use. You’d laughed about it, once — vowed you wouldn’t be those parents, with their ridiculous high-pitched cooing and singsong nonsense. But then she had arrived, and somehow, somehow, you both caught yourselves doing it. Even Alex.  

She cooed back, her little voice bubbling like carbonation in a glass. His chest still felt tight, the remnants of earlier panic clinging stubbornly to him, but he moved toward the sound. Slowly, carefully, like it was fragile and he might shatter it if he got too close.  

Her arms flailed, fingers curling and uncurling in something that looked almost purposeful. Joy, he thought. She was happy. Not just generally, but specifically. Happy to see him.  

“Where’s Dada?” you asked her, like she might actually answer.  

And she did.  

With an awkward jerk of her chubby arm, she pointed directly at him. Her smile grew impossibly wider, her face lighting up in a way that still caught him off guard every time. It was a real smile, a choice, not just a reflexive grimace. His breath hitched, his throat tightening as the thought hit him harder than it should have. He never got used to it — the way she could do something so simple and make him feel like the floor was falling out from under him.  

He reached for his jaw, grabbing it and tugging, trying to snap himself out of the trance. His fingertips pressed hard into his skin, the roughness of his calluses grounding him.  

“Hi.” he said, his voice cracking a little. 

“She missed you.” you said gently, your gaze flicking between him and Poppy. You weren’t teasing, not like you might’ve been on another day. You knew exactly how fragile he was in that moment.  

Alex swallowed hard, willing himself to keep it together as he stepped closer. He reached out, his hand brushing her tiny fist before letting her grab his finger. Her grip was surprisingly strong for someone so small. She tugged, babbling incoherently, her gaze fixed on him with such intensity that he felt like he might unravel.  

“I missed you, too.” he whispered, his words directed at her but meant for both of you.  

Poppy let out another happy noise, a gurgle that morphed into something closer to a giggle, and she leaned forward, her little arms reaching toward Alex, fingers curling and uncurling as if she was trying to grab him through the air.  

“You wanna go to Dada?” you said softly, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Say daaaa-daaa.” you coaxed, drawing out the syllables in that sweet, singsong way.  

Alex’s lips curved upward, though he tried not to make a big deal of it. He crouched down slowly, the strain in his lower back making itself known with a sharp twinge. His already misaligned spine didn’t thank him for it, but he pushed through, lowering himself until his face was level with hers. Close enough to feel the warmth radiating off her little body, to smell the faint powdery scent of baby lotion and something vaguely milk-like clinging to her.

“Come ‘ere, Pop.” he whispered, his voice low and gravelly, as though speaking too loud might scare her off. “Come to Dada.”  

“Da-da.” you repeated, nodding encouragingly at her as if she might mirror your enthusiasm.  

Instead of saying the word — or lunging into Alex’s arms like some moment of cinematic perfection — she smacked him square in the face.  

Alex froze, his mouth slightly open in surprise, the sting of her palm radiating across his cheek. She’s got a mean right hook for someone who can barely hold her own bottle, he thought. He blinked at her, and then at you, his hand coming up to rub at the spot, which hurt only faintly, not as much as the blow to his pride.  

“She gets that from you.” he muttered, casting you a sidelong glance.  

“She does not.” you said, though your laughter betrayed you. “Don’t take it personally.” you said, trying to sound serious. “She slaps me all the time. It’s how she says ‘I love you.’”  

“Great. So instead of words, we’re raising her to communicate through violence?” She was grinning wide, her chubby cheeks pink with delight, completely oblivious to her crime. “Well, maybe I deserved that one.” He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as he reached for her again. “Come ‘ere, you little gremlin.”  

He kissed your cheek, a quick, grateful press of his lips, before turning his attention to her. “Hiya, Pop.” He pressed his lips to her cheek, warm and impossibly soft, before nuzzling his nose against her temple. She let out a happy squeal, her hands finding his face again. This time, instead of slapping, her fingers grabbed at his nose, her little nails scratching lightly as she babbled something unintelligible. Her eyes were wide and bright, her gummy smile so wide it made his chest ache.  

“She loves you, you know.” you said, leaning against the counter as you watched them. 

He glanced up at you, his brows furrowing slightly, though his lips stayed pressed to her cheek. “Yeah?”  

“Yeah.” You smiled softly, crossing your arms as you tilted your head. “You’re her favourite person. I’m a little jealous.”  

“Yeah.” he said quietly, more to himself than to you. “She’s mine too.”  

“Dada.” you said softly, testing it again as you smiled at the two of them.  

Alex raised a brow, looking down at her. “What do you think, Pop? You gonna say it?”  

Her face scrunched, lips parting as if she were about to make some grand declaration. There was a tiny pause — just enough for Alex to feel a flicker of hope. Then she let out a loud, enthusiastic noise that was more of a squawk than a word, clapping her little hands against his chest as if to punctuate her babble.  

“Close enough.” he said, his voice soft with amusement as he pressed a kiss to her forehead.  

But you weren’t about to let it go.  

“Daaa-daaa.” you tried again. You leaned in a little, your hands gesturing toward Alex like he was the most exciting thing in the world. He was, even if he couldn't see that. “You can do it, Pop. Say Dada!” She blew a raspberry, the sound wet and loud, making Alex snort. “She’s close.” you insisted, crouching down beside him. “Come on, baby.”  

Alex sighed, shifting Poppy in his arms as her attention drifted to his shirt collar. She grabbed a fistful of the fabric, tugging at it like it was the most fascinating thing she’d ever seen. He glanced at you, a faint crease forming between his brows. You always had this unshakable belief that she was on the verge of something amazing — every coo, every wave of her little hands filled you with anticipation. He admired it, that optimism of yours. But today, it made something heavy settle in his chest.  

“Say it, Poppy.” you encouraged, wagging your fingers at her. “Daaa-daaa.”  

He rolled his eyes but didn’t stop you, though he felt the faintest pang of guilt as you kept trying. You were so patient, so persistent, and he didn’t want to rain on your optimism. Still, after the god knows which round of those exaggerated two syllables, he couldn’t help but interject.  

“She’s not gonna say it.” he mumbled, almost to himself.  

“What?” you asked, tilting your head.  

“She’s not gonna say it.” he repeated, his voice quiet but firmer this time. “She’s a baby. She doesn’t know what we’re saying.”  

“She’s so close.” you said gently, your smile faltering just a little.  

“She’s not.” he replied, shaking his head as he looked down at her. “She’s just…she’s not there yet.”  

You glanced at him, your brow furrowing slightly. “But-”  

“Love,” he interrupted, tilting his head toward you, “she’s probably tired of us pestering her. Let’s give her a break.”  

You frowned slightly, watching him. He wasn’t looking at you, his gaze fixed on the floor now, his shoulders tense.  

“Alex.” you said softly.  

He didn’t respond. He shifted Poppy in his arms, holding her a little closer, though he couldn’t shake the weight pressing against his chest. Why do I care so much? he thought, annoyed with himself. He couldn’t stop the spiral — thoughts tumbling over each other, picking apart every small failure.  

Maybe I’m not doing enough. Maybe she doesn’t know because I’m not around enough. Maybe she doesn’t…

“Alex.” you said again, firmer this time. Your hand found his shoulder, snapping him out of it.  

He looked up at you, his brow furrowed, and you saw it then — the faint sheen of worry in his eyes, the way his jaw was set too tight, like he was bracing for something.  

“She’ll get there. You know that, right?”  

He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing as he nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

You sighed, your shoulders drooping slightly, but you nodded. “Alright.” you murmured, brushing your fingers against Poppy’s cheek. “We’ll stop, Pop. No more pressure.”  

But just as Alex opened his mouth to thank you for relenting, a small, hesitant sound broke through the quiet.   

Both of you froze.  

Alex’s eyes widened as he stared at Poppy, who was now grinning up at him like she knew exactly what she’d just done.  

“Did she-?” His voice trailed off, his heart pounding as he glanced at you.  

“She said it.” you whispered. “She said it.”  

Alex barely heard you, the words sinking into his chest like pebbles dropped into a still lake. She said it, the syllables echoed faintly in his mind. He wanted to laugh, to smile, to do something to match the moment, but his body didn’t seem to know how to react. Afraid to breathe too deeply in case it all shattered.  

“Dada!” she said again, louder this time, her tiny voice wobbly but unmistakable.  

That broke him.  

Alex felt something catch in his throat, a sharp mix of disbelief and joy. His chest tightened, his heart stuttering before kicking into overdrive. Slowly, as if afraid of startling her, he looked down at her, her wide, shining eyes staring back up at him. His smile spread slowly, unbidden and unstoppable, until it felt like it might split his face in two.  

“Good girl.” he whispered. He leaned forward to press a kiss to her warm cheek. “That’s my girl.” he murmured, barely audible as his chest rose and fell in uneven breaths.  

“She’s a genius.” you said, half-laughing, half-crying. Your voice snapped him out of the trance just enough for him to notice you were leaning into him, your head resting lightly against his shoulder.  

He should’ve been relieved. He was relieved. But the edges of the moment started to fray as his mind looped back on itself, until his hand twitched against Poppy’s back, his fingers moving in a restless, uneven rhythm.   

“Alex.” you said softly, your voice cutting through the noise in his head.  

He blinked, looking up at you with wide eyes, like he hadn’t even realised he’d drifted away. “Hmm?”  

Your brows knit together just slightly as you studied him. “She said it.” you repeated, more gently this time, as if trying to coax him back to the present. “You heard her, right? She said it, and she’ll keep saying it.”  

He nodded, his lips twitching upward in an attempt at a smile. “Yeah. I heard her.” 

“It’s okay to let yourself enjoy it, you know.”  

Alex let out a soft, shaky laugh, his head bowing slightly. “I’m trying.” he admitted.  

You gave him a small, knowing smile, your fingers brushing against his. “I know you are.”  

Then, with the same quiet authority that always managed to steady him, you said, “I’ll take over dinner.”  

He hesitated, his gaze flicking toward the stove where the pot still bubbled quietly. “It’s almost done.” he said automatically, his voice trailing off.  

“Seriously.” you interrupted, your hand squeezing his shoulder lightly. “Go sit down. You’ve earned it.”  

He looked at you then, really looked, and saw the understanding in your eyes. Not pity, not impatience — just a steady reassurance that he didn’t have to carry everything on his own.  

Alex exhaled slowly, his shoulders loosening as he nodded. “Alright, alright.” he murmured, his lips curving into a faint, grateful smile.  

“Good.” You leaned in, pressing a kiss to his cheek before stepping toward the stove.  

“Alright, Pop.” he said softly, turning toward the living room. “Let’s go relax, yeah?”  

Alex settled onto the couch with a quiet groan, leaning back into the cushions as he adjusted Poppy in his lap. Her bright eyes met his again, and he smiled despite himself, the heaviness in his chest beginning to lift.  

“You’re a little genius.” he murmured, brushing his fingers over her curls.  

Poppy responded with a loud, cheerful babble, her tiny hands smacking against his chest like punctuation marks. Before he realised what was happening, one of her fingers poked at his cheek, then slid up toward his nose.  

“Hey, what are you-” Alex started, but his words cut off with a muffled grunt as she, determined as ever, managed to wedge her little fingers into his nostrils. “Christ, Pop.” he muttered, squirming as he tried to gently guide her hand away. She giggled in response and shoved harder. He groaned, his face scrunching comically. “You’re relentless, aren’t you? Just like your mum.”  

Despite the discomfort, he didn’t make her stop right away. He let her tug and poke and prod because…well, because she was his. His little girl, with her impossibly tiny fingers and her boundless energy and her smile that made his chest ache in ways he still didn’t fully understand.  

“Alright, that’s enough now.” he said softly, finally grabbing her hand and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “You’re gonna rip my big nose off, you little gremlin.”  

She squealed in delight, her legs kicking against his lap as she laughed. Alex couldn’t help but laugh too, shaking his head as he adjusted her so she was sitting more comfortably.  

“Are you hungry, Pop?” he asked, tilting his head to look at her more closely. “Hmm? Is that why you’re trying to dismantle me? Did you miss dinner while I was busy mucking about in the kitchen?”  

Poppy tilted her head in response, mimicking his gesture with such accuracy that it caught him off guard.  

“You missed Mama, didn’t you?” he said, his voice softening as he brushed a hand over her hair. “You always get a bit grumpy when she’s not here, huh? Me too, you know. Yeah? You missed her loads, didn’t you? I get it. She’s the best, isn’t she?”  

She clapped her hands in agreement, her face lighting up.  

“She’s clever, that one.” Alex continued as he leaned in slightly. “Always knows what to do. Keeps me from completely losing it most days.” He sighed, his thumb gently tracing circles on her little hand. “Don’t tell her, but I missed her too.”  

She made another noise, high-pitched, and Alex chuckled. “Yeah, you’ve got it all figured out, haven’t you? Don’t need words when you’ve got that smile. You know,” he murmured, “you’re kind of the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”  

Poppy didn’t respond, of course, but the way she rested her head against his chest — her little fingers curling into his shirt — felt like answer enough. 

You called him over, your voice warm and light but tinged with that familiar sense of knowing. “Alex, come here. Dinner’s ready.”  

He shifted Poppy in his arms and stood with an exaggerated groan, the sound somewhere between playful and genuine. “Getting old, Pop.” he murmured, glancing down at her. “You’re not making this any easier, you know.”  

“Is it okay?” he asked as he approached the table, nodding toward the pot on the stove.  

“Yeah, it’s good. Smells amazing.” you said as you sat down. “Can’t wait to eat, I’m starving.”  

He smiled faintly at your words, placing Poppy in her high chair before lowering himself into the seat next to you. “Eat, eat. I’ll try to get her to eat something too.” he said, nodding toward the little one.  

“You need to eat too, baby.” you replied as you placed a plate in front of him.  

Alex didn’t respond. He was looking at you, his gaze quiet and intense in a way that made you pause. There was something in the way he watched you that felt almost fragile, like he was trying to memorise the moment before it slipped through his fingers.  

“Alex.” you prompted gently, but he still didn’t look away.  

He blinked, as if suddenly realising he was staring, and shifted his focus to Poppy. She had taken one of his fingers into her mouth, nibbling on it. He didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, he didn’t mind.  

“I know,” he said softly, “but can we just…”  

He trailed off, his free hand brushing over Poppy’s curls as his jaw tightened.  

“Alex-” you began, but he cut you off, his voice trembling slightly as he turned back to you.  

“She said it.” he whispered, the words barely audible. His eyes, glassy with unshed tears, met yours, pleading and vulnerable. “She…don’t start that now, please.”  

Your mouth opened to respond, but his expression stopped you. There was a rawness in his face that you recognized too well — a deep, unspoken fear that if you brought it up, you’d ruin the delicate balance of the moment.  

“Okay.” you said finally.  

Dinner was quiet. The kind of quiet that settled in like a heavy fog, where the occasional clink of cutlery against a plate felt unnaturally loud. Poppy babbled here and there, filling the silence with her tiny, nonsensical words, and Alex smiled at her, like always. But his energy was flagging. He was tired, worn thin in a way that even you could feel across the table. You knew he was trying, trying for you and for her, trying to keep the atmosphere light. And it worked, sort of, enough to make it through the meal. But you could see the strain beneath it, the cracks that threatened to show when he thought no one was looking.

That smile didn’t follow him when the day finally wound down and the two of you climbed into bed. Under the covers, where the quiet wasn’t tempered by the background noise his face fell into something harder. That look you’d come to dread, his “mad kitten” look, as you’d called it, where his lips pressed into a tight line, like he was physically holding himself together with sheer will.

The dark made it worse. It always did. Shadows obscured the warmth in his features, leaving behind that stubborn jawline and the glassy glint of his eyes when he didn’t blink fast enough.

“Al…” you whispered, trying to coax him out of it.

You could feel him debating it, using the dark as a shield, letting the silence stretch between you.

“I’m fine.” he said finally.

“You-”

“I’m fine.” he repeated, cutting you off quickly, but not sharply. “I promise.”

There was a note of insistence in his tone, as if he needed to convince you, or maybe himself, that it was true. Before you could press further, his body shifted. He moved toward you, wrapping his arms around your middle and twisting you into his grip with that quiet urgency that always made your chest ache. His chest pressed firmly against your back, the heat of him bleeding through the thin fabric of your shirt and you could feel his breath against your shoulder like he was trying to regulate it but failing.

“I’m just…tired.” he murmured, the words muffled as his face found the crook of your neck.

His sigh followed, long and drawn-out, like it was pulled from somewhere deep. His arms tightened around you, his hold becoming almost unbearably heavy. It wasn’t just physical — you could feel the emotional gravity of him, like he was sinking into you, clinging to you to keep himself afloat.

“You don’t have to hold onto it all by yourself, you know.” you said, your voice a quiet plea in the dark, placing your hand over his arm, your fingers tracing slow circles against his skin.

“I’m not.” he whispered after a long pause, his voice barely audible. “I’ve got you.” Bittersweet and honest in a way that made your throat tighten. You turned slightly in his arms, just enough to see the edge of his face.

“I’m here.” you said, your hand moving up to brush against his cheek. “I’m always here.”

Alex closed his eyes at that, his head dipping slightly as if the weight of those words was too much. He pressed his forehead against your shoulder, his grip on you never loosening. “I know.” he said again, softer this time, almost like a prayer.

“Baby?” you called softly. Alex’s body was pressed so firmly against yours that you could feel every rise and fall of his chest. The way he rubbed himself against you sent a subtle shiver down your spine that you tried, and failed, to hide.

“Mhm?” he hummed in response, his voice thick with exhaustion but carrying a gentle warmth. He pressed his face into your neck again, nuzzling you like he couldn’t get close enough. “You smell nice.” he murmured.

“Do I?”

“Yeah,” he replied, “I missed you today.”

His palms roamed your body, spreading warmth wherever they touched. He wasn’t in a hurry — it was almost absentminded, the way his hands explored. Slowly, they began to search for the hem of your shirt, his fingertips brushing against your bare skin — hesitant, like he was trying to go unnoticed, unsure of himself.

You knew what that meant — he was testing the waters, weighing his own energy against his desire, afraid to disappoint you or himself if he couldn’t deliver. 

“Alex?” you asked gently, your hand brushing against his side.

“Yeah?” he replied, his voice quieter this time, muffled by the way his face stayed buried against you.

“Do you wanna…?” you suggested, leaving the rest unsaid but entirely clear.

His breath hitched, just for a second, and then he groaned softly, twisting himself further into you. His face ducked lower, pressing into your shoulder like he couldn’t bear to look you in the eye. “Yeah, but…I’m so fucking tired.” he admitted, almost apologetic.

You felt him stretch his legs, his body shifting as he intertwined them with yours, wrapping you up in his warmth and his weariness all at once. He sighed again, though this time it was more of a soft, frustrated mewl, a sound that broke your heart a little.

“Can we do it in the morning?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “You know I’m better in the mornings…at night, I just…I get too in my head, and I can’t…” His words trailed off, lost somewhere between exhaustion and vulnerability.

You didn’t need him to finish. You understood.

Your hand found its way to the back of his head, your fingers threading through his hair, scratching lightly at the roots. It was oilier than usual, and you knew that detail alone was enough to bother him, though you wouldn’t dream of holding it against him. You could feel the weight of the week, of the day, in the way he leaned into your touch.

“I have to go to work again early for some-” you began. The sentence was interrupted by a deep stretch and a groan, his body shifting again to press his lips to the corner of your mouth. 

“How early?” he asked, his voice still groggy.

“Early.” you said, the word carrying a hint of regret as your fingers continued their soothing motions.

“Fuck…” He sighed, the sound dragging out as he let himself sink deeper into you. “Okay.” His hands slid back under your top, the roughness of his palms contrasting with the gentle way he touched you. They skimmed over your ribs, fingers spreading wide to take in as much of you as they could. Slowly, he began to push the fabric upward, revealing more of your bare skin, but he hesitated just short of pulling it completely off.

“It’s fine, Al-” you started, not wanting him to feel pressured. Your hand came up to gently push him away, but he caught your wrist lightly.

“No, no…” he murmured, shaking his head. His brows furrowed, and he shook his head slightly, his lips pressing a soft kiss to the base of your throat. “I can- I want to. I just…” He trailed off, exhaling shakily as his eyes dropped to the space between you, as if his body wasn’t cooperating the way he wanted it to.

“Need a hand?” 

He let out a breath, half a laugh, half a sigh, and nodded. “Yeah.” 

You reached for the hem of your top, tugging it over your head and letting it fall to the floor beside the bed. Alex’s eyes lifted, softening instantly as they took in the newly bared skin. He swallowed hard, his lips parting as his hands reached for you again. His lips followed the curve of your chest, pressing slow, reverent kisses to the soft swell of your breasts. His stubble scratched against your skin, and you couldn’t help but gasp when his teeth grazed and nibbled on the delicate skin just below your collarbone.

“Fuck…” you murmured, his grunt in response muffled against your chest. He kissed the same spot again, as if trying to chase away the faint sting with warmth.

Your fingers slipped down then, over the planes of his stomach before slipping to the waistband of his boxers. He tensed slightly, almost imperceptibly, but didn’t stop you. Slowly, you slid your hand inside, fingers brushing against him. He was soft beneath your touch, his body warm but still reluctant to respond. You stroked him gently, giving him time, your movements slow and deliberate. He twitched slightly, but not as much as you both hoped.

“Shit.” he muttered, voice strained and tinged with frustration. “I’m sorry…I-” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head against you. “I just- I’m sorry. I’m so fucking tired, and I-”

“Hey.” you interrupted softly, your free hand coming up to thread through his hair again. You scratched lightly, feeling the tension in his body as you worked to soothe him. “Don’t apologise.”

“I just can’t get my head right.” he said, his voice tight. He sighed heavily, his breath shuddering against you. “I want to- fuck, I really want to, but…”

“But nothing.” Your fingers continued to stroke him lightly, not to pressure him, but to reassure him, to remind him you weren’t in any rush. “It’s okay, Alex. We’ve got time. It’s not a race.”

He let out a soft groan, half from the sensation of your hand and half from the weight of his own thoughts. “You’re too good to me.” he muttered, pressing another kiss to the top of your chest.

“I love you.” you replied simply. “That’s not gonna change just because you’re tired. You’ve been running yourself ragged all day, Al. Your body’s just trying to catch up.”

He let out another sigh, this one softer, and tilted his head up to look at you. His eyes were glassy, his lips parted as if he wanted to argue but couldn’t find the words.

“You’re allowed to be tired.” you added, your thumb brushing the back of his neck.

“Yeah, but I wanted to…I wanted to be good for you.” he murmured, his voice cracking slightly on the last words.

“You are good for me.” you said, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. “You always are.”

As if testing himself, his hips shifted slightly against your hand. “I’m trying.” 

“I know.” you replied, kissing him again, this time on the lips, reminding him that this wasn’t about performance or expectation but the two of you. His lips trembled against yours, but he kissed you back, his hands finding their way to your hips. He held you firmly but tenderly, his thumbs stroking small circles into your skin.

“I’ll get there.” he murmured, his voice thick but steadier now. “I’m gon’ do my best…” his lips brushing the curve of your neck “to fuck you good.”

“Yeah?” you whispered.

“Promise.” 

He let out a low, shaky groan as his hand squeezed your arse, pulling you closer against him. His lips returned to your chest, latching onto the soft flesh with a warm, open-mouthed kiss that sent a shiver through your spine. His hips bucked gently into your hand, still soft but slowly responding, the friction encouraging him more than he might have expected. 

“Talk to me.” he murmured against your skin, punctuating his words with another kiss, this time right over your heart.

“About what?” 

“Anything.” he gasped, his breath catching when you tugged just a bit harder. His head tilted back slightly, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he tried to stay focused. “Anything to distract me from thinking too hard.”

“Okay, let’s see…” you started, the rhythm of your hand unbroken as you searched for something that might pull him out of his head. “How about the fact that she said her first word today?” you offered, your voice lifting slightly as you rubbed your thumb along his length.

Alex let out a short laugh, half-gasping as his hips moved with more intention now. “You think I forgot?” he asked, his tone teasing despite the breathlessness. “I’ll be telling everyone about that for years, love. Even strangers in the queue at Tesco.”

“Yeah?” you grinned, leaning down to kiss his temple. “Bet you’ll exaggerate it too. ‘Oh, she looked right at me, so serious, and said ‘Dada’ like she was delivering some grand speech.’”

“She did though. You saw her. Our girl was bloody profound.”

“She had food all over her face.” you countered, laughing softly.

“That’s just charisma.” he replied, his voice softer now, though his hips bucked again, more firmly.

“Uh-huh, sure.” you teased, your fingers sliding down further to cup him gently, eliciting a groan that vibrated against your skin.

“More,” he mumbled, his voice husky.

“More talking or more touching?” you teased, your hand giving him a firmer stroke, feeling him start to harden properly against your palm.

“Both.” His hips moved in small, involuntary motions against your hand, but he still wasn’t quite where he wanted to be. “Something else this time. Anything- just not…”

“Not what?” 

He let out a shaky laugh, his head shaking slightly. “Not about her.” he admitted, his voice low and embarrassed. “Feels weird…when you’ve got your hand on my dick.”

You laughed and Alex groaned again, though this time it was out of exasperated affection. “Fair point.” you teased, giving him a soft squeeze that earned you a sharp inhale. “Okay, let’s think…”

“Yeah, think of something good.” he muttered, his lips trailing a line of warm, lazy kisses down the side of your neck. “Something sexy or ridiculous, just…”

“Alright,” you said, “remember that time we got locked out of the old flat because you thought you could ‘jimmy’ the door with a credit card?”

“Oh, come on, don’t remind me.” he groaned, though there was a smile in his voice. “I was just trying to impress you.”

“You were trying to impress me by breaking into your own flat?” you teased, your thumb brushing over the sensitive underside of his cock, drawing a quiet gasp from him.

“It almost worked.” he said, mock-defensively. 

“It really didn’t.” you replied, laughing softly. “We ended up waiting outside for two hours until your mate showed up with the spare key.”

“Yeah, and you still went out with me after that.” he shot back, his lips curling into a smirk against your skin.

“Only because you bought me chips and promised never to try anything that stupid again.” you countered, leaning in to press a kiss to his jaw.

He hummed in response, his lips seeking yours for a lazy, lingering kiss that stole the breath from your lungs. “I’d buy you chips every day if it meant I’d get to keep you.” he murmured against your lips.

“That’s very sweet.” you said softly, “but you don’t need to bribe me with chips. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good…because I’m not sure what I’d do without you.” he whispered. “Morning’s overrated anyway.” he mumbled with a smirk, his confidence finally peeking through, making you laugh softly as he pulled you even closer.

His hand slipped beneath the waistband of your panties. The first tentative stroke of his fingers over your folds pulled a quiet sound from your lips, a soft sigh that made his chest tighten. “Yeah? Mhm…you’re real wet.”

He hooked a leg over your waist, tugging himself closer and shifting his weight to make it easier to manoeuvre. With a grumble, he raised his arms over his head, his eyes flicking down at you with a playful tilt to his brow. “Help me take off my shirt.” — somewhere between impatient and endearing.

You chuckled softly, reaching up to grip the hem and pulling it up and off. His messy hair stuck up at odd angles from the friction, and you couldn’t resist brushing your fingers through it as he leaned back down, his lips grazing your jaw.

With the shirt discarded, Alex’s attention shifted back to you. His hand pushed your panties down just enough to free his wrist, not bothering to remove them entirely as he slid his middle finger into you. The stretch was perfect. His hips rutted gently against your thigh, seeking friction as he worked his finger deeper into you, his cock hot and heavy, twitching with every little noise you made. 

“That’s good, Al.” you moaned again, your hips moving against his hand, trying to take more of him.

“Yeah? You like that?” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear, his voice strained but steady. He added a second finger, the stretch making you cry out sharply, and he groaned in response. “Mhm…so tight.” he said, his hips jerking reflexively, his arousal growing harder to ignore.

“Just…more.” you gasped, arching into his touch as his thumb pressed against your clit, circling.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” he whispered, his words muffled against your skin as he kissed and nipped at the flesh, his scruff leaving a warm, tingling trail in its wake. His fingers moved faster now, just enough to drag a broken moan from your lips.

“Alex…” you breathed, the sound of his name on your lips making his hips jerk harder against your thigh.

“I’ve got you.” he whispered, “I’ll take care of you, love. Just let me make you feel good.”

You arched into his touch, your hands moving to push his boxers down over his hips. He groaned softly as the fabric slid away, freeing him entirely. His cock was still firming, enough to feel hopeful again.

“Yeah…” he breathed, his voice low and thick as he worked his fingers deeper into you, the sound of them going in and out suddenly louder. “That’s my girl…all wet for me. Missed this.” he mumbled against your skin, his voice muffled and hazy. “Missed ya.”

You nodded, unable to form words as his pace quickened, the rhythm of his fingers a barely restrained desperation. “Fuck…you’re perfect.” he whispered, his lips grazing yours in a fleeting kiss that left you aching for more. 

Despite the ache in his shoulders and the subtle burn building in his forearm, Alex kept his focus on you. The way your body moved, the sounds you made — it was all the motivation he needed to push past the weariness settling in his bones. His jaw tightened briefly, a hint of exhaustion flickering across his face, but he blinked it away before you could see. He made sure you didn’t. Every time his movements faltered for even a second, he redirected you — his thumb brushing over your clit with just enough pressure to steal your breath, his lips peppering your neck with kisses that made your body shudder.

Your hands slid down his back, your nails grazing lightly over the curve of his spine, and he hissed softly. “You’re gonna make me come before we even get to the good part.” you teased, your voice shaking slightly.

He chuckled, the sound low and rough, as he kissed you again, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that made your toes curl. “This is the good part.” he muttered. He curled his fingers inside you just right, and your body tensed, your breath hitching audibly.

“Alex…” you whimpered, your head falling back against the pillow as his thumb pressed harder.

“That’s it.” he murmured, his voice steady despite the faint tremble in his arms. “Let me hear you, love.” You gasped again. His lips brushed against your ear as he whispered, “That’s my girl. Let go for me.”

And you did. Your body arched into him as you came, your moans filling the room as he worked you through it, fingers slowing but never stopping. He kissed you softly, his lips lingering against yours, letting you ride it out at your own pace.

“Beautiful.” he murmured, his voice thick with awe as he finally withdrew his hand. His fingers glistened in the dim light when he brought them to his lips, his eyes locked on yours as he licked them clean. A low groan escaped him at the taste, the sound vibrating against your skin as he leaned back in.

“Alex.” you whispered, your voice still shaky as you reached for him.

“Shh…” he said softly, shifting his weight to pull your panties all the way off. His movements were just a fraction slower than usual, his body heavier as he repositioned himself between your thighs, but he masked it. 

When he slipped inside of you, a soft gasp escaped him, his breath hitching as his shoulders gave the faintest shiver. He paused for a moment, his forehead dropping briefly to your collarbone as he adjusted to the warmth of you, the closeness. It was almost as if he needed a second to collect himself, to process the way you fit around him so perfectly. His focus seemed inward, like he was trying to keep himself tethered, to keep from drifting too far into his thoughts, the drag of him inside you unhurried, as if the intimacy itself was enough to sustain him.

“Al…” you whispered, brushing your hands through his hair, tugging gently to pull his face closer to yours.

He didn’t respond, just shifted forward until his chest was flush against yours, his arms wrapping tightly around your back. His movements grew lazier, his thrusts almost absent-minded, and then he stilled entirely, buried deep inside you as he pulled you tighter against him.

“C’mere.” he murmured and hooked his leg around your waist, the strength in his arms holding you securely as he twisted his body, rolling the two of you onto your sides. The shift was gentle. You went willingly. He kept you close, his arms curling tighter around your back, and when you settled, he pressed his forehead to yours. His gaze was soft but so heavy with unspoken truths that it made your chest ache.

“You okay?” you asked softly, reaching up to cradle his cheek in your palm.

He nodded, but the movement was subtle, barely more than a twitch, and tightness in his jaw told you there was more. Instead of answering, he leaned forward and kissed you softly, the press of his lips lingering.

“Just wanted to hold you.” he finally said. “Needed to feel you close.”

“You’ve got me.” you whispered back, your hand stroking the back of his neck as you pressed your body closer to his. “Always.”

He sighed, the sound heavy but full of relief, and began to move again, his hips shifting slowly, almost cautiously. Your legs tangled together as his thrusts became a gentle rocking motion, his forehead still pressed to yours.

“Is this okay?” he murmured after a moment, his voice low and husky, the words almost lost in the sound of your breathing.

“It’s perfect.” you murmured, kissing the corner of his mouth as you reached down to grab his hand, intertwining your fingers with his.

His free hand slid down your back, holding you to him like he was afraid you’d slip away. There was an edge of desperation in the way his fingers dug into your skin, the way his hips stuttered slightly before he found his rhythm again. He wasn’t rushing, though — it wasn’t about chasing an end. He was savouring it, savouring you. The way he kissed you between each slow thrust, spoke louder than any words he could’ve said. 

Alex groaned softly, burying his face in your neck again as his pace quickened just enough to make your breath hitch. “Fuck…you feel so good.” he mumbled against your skin. His hand slid down to your thigh, lifting it higher around his waist to bring you even closer.

You could feel the tension in his body, the way he was holding himself back even now, and you pressed your lips to his temple. “Let go, baby.” you whispered, your voice a soft encouragement as your fingers slid down his back. “I’ve got you.”

His breath hitched, and his pace faltered for just a moment before he buried his face in the crook of your neck. His movements grew more instinctive, his restraint slipping as he finally let himself sink, hips jerking forward in a way that felt less controlled, and then he stilled, deep inside you as his body trembled against yours.

“Fuck-” he whispered, the word drawn out as he let himself go.

It was with a quiet groan against your skin, his arms tightening around you as he held you close.

You held him through it, your hands smoothing over his back as his breathing slowly began to steady, face pressed into your neck, his body still pressed flush against yours, before he finally leaned back just enough to look at you.

“I love you.” he murmured, his voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear it.

“I love you too.” you whispered back, holding him tighter, feeling the steady beat of his heart against yours as the world around you fell quiet.

Alex exhaled another deep, shaky breath, the tension in his shoulders finally melting away as he settled. “You’re everything.” he said quietly, the words almost lost as he buried his face in your hair.

He stayed there, his breath fanning against your skin in slow, warm exhalations, your bodies still connected in a way that made it feel like you were sharing the same heartbeat. His arms remained draped over you, heavy and firm, holding you close in a way that felt both protective and desperate. You thought he was just catching his breath, trying to calm the storm that had been building all day. But then you felt it — his grip loosened.

It wasn’t gradual, like he was letting go consciously. It happened all at once, his hands slipping from their secure hold to rest limply against your sides, the weight of them going heavy in a way that immediately caught your attention.

“Baby.” you whispered. You tilted your head to try and get a look at his face. He didn’t stir.

“Aly.” you tried again, brushing through his damp hair, pushing the strands away from his forehead. He didn’t react, not even a flicker of acknowledgment. Instead of responding, he shifted slightly, his body curling even closer to you. He made a small, soft noise — barely audible — as he burrowed further into you, pressing his face against your chest like he was trying to disappear there entirely, seeking refuge, breath tickling your skin.

Your heart softened as realisation dawned. He was asleep.

He made it ache too, all at once. You had seen how tired he was. The exhaustion he had carried — the tension in his shoulders, the weariness in his eyes, the quiet hesitations in his voice — had finally claimed him. You let your fingers continue their path through his hair, marvelling at how peaceful he looked now, his features slack and unburdened, his lips slightly parted as his breaths fell. It was such a stark contrast to the tension he so often carried.

“Sweetheart.” you murmured softly, more to yourself than to him, not expecting a response this time. You traced the line of his jaw, your thumb brushing lightly over the roughness. There was something different about it now, something softer, like sleep had stripped away all his worries and left just…him.

He shifted slightly when you moved, but he didn’t wake. Instead, his arm tightened around you — just for a moment, a subconscious reflex, like his sleeping body refused to let you go — before going slack again.

“Okay, okay.” you whispered, smiling to yourself as you adjusted under him. “I’m not going anywhere. Sleep, love.” you murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “I’ve got you.”

The room was so quiet now, the faint hum of the heater and the occasional creak of the house the only sounds besides his breathing. You felt the rhythm of it, how it matched yours, slow and steady and calm.

You let your fingers drift lazily along his back, tracing patterns you weren’t even aware of. Every now and then, he’d shift slightly, almost imperceptibly, like his body was adjusting to make itself even closer to you.

It was a long time before you let yourself relax fully, but eventually, the warmth of him, the heaviness of his body pressed against yours, lulled you into a kind of peaceful stillness. You stared at the ceiling for a while, your hand still tangled in his hair, and wondered how he had managed to hold so much inside himself all day without breaking.

“I love you.” you whispered into the quiet, even though you knew he couldn’t hear you.

a/n: I’m a very sad lonely woman as you can see. Jus’ a girl. He’s just a baby. Lil’ bebe. Inspired by some reel I saw but I'm too lazy to get the link now.

[thatstoomanysausages]

My favourite activity to indulge in recently in non-stop binging The Crane Wives' songs, especially the new album, and tallying how many times I can somehow link the lyrics to Desert Duo.

At this point it might be a talent of delusion, and I am winning.

Here is a list of lyrics in the newest album that I am particularly delusional about (it's long. It's 2am)

(btw it's every single new song. I am tired as fuck)

Scars:

"All the love, all the kindness, all your best-laid plans/Couldn't stop me from becoming the way that I am" (3rd Life reference referring to Scar inevitable turning red despite all of Grian's plans to keep him alive and safe)

"A fatal fault at the start/Tell me it's inevitable that I'd end up with scars" (3rd Life, when Scar is quickly killed in the beginning by Grian)

"Nothing could have been done/Is that right?" (3rd Life. Conversation between Grian and Scar after the creeper prank)

"Nothing could have been done" (3rd Life. After Scars falls to red)

"Nothing could have been done/Is that right?" (3rd Life. After Grian kills Scar with his own bare hands)

"End up with scars from falling/Down, down" (3rd Life, Grian's final death via suicide)

"We were always meant to fall apart" (Not even one specific series. Every single one of them actually.)

Bitter Medicine:

"Are you ashamed of me, or did you buy what I'm selling?" (3rd Life reference about Scar's scamming nature and Grian's disappointment that hides the fact that he's charmed by Scar. Every. Single. Time.)

"Made my bed but I'll sleep anywhere, anywhere" (Wild Life reference. I think we all know. Pillows smelling like waffles? Yeah.)

Higher Ground:

"I gave up the truth and now I can't take it back" (3rd Life. Grian telling Scar that he was the one that brought the creeper over. Or. Double Life Grian if he ever told Scar about his Secret Soulmate. OR. Wild Life, Grian telling Scar literally anything about the wildcard)

"I didn't wanna hurt anyone" (Oh.)

"The corvids are calling/Warning the forest a predator is approaching/Am I in danger, or am I the threat" (Grian is often characterised as a corvid if not a parrot. Basically any scenario in Wild Life where Grian is warning Scar about the wildcards despite the fact that he is at fault of making them happen)

Predator:

"What were you thinking?/Shouldn't you know better?/You opened a door for an apex predator" (Any scenario in which Scar welcomes Grian into his home and doesn't think twice about the danger the other could be harbouring. His trust for Grian is unimaginable)

"I keep forgetting the lessons I've learned/So I keep getting hurt" (Before Scar won, he never remembered what had happened with Grian, so he went back to him for safety multiple times, teamed with him, didn't mind his company, not knowing the dangers that Grian represents just by existing)

"Your heart is a nasty place/I'm afraid to say no to you" (...Yeah)

"Keep your lies and your denial/I am fighting for survival/My heart is a changing shape/What if I said no to you?" (DOUBLE LIFE DESERT DUO TAKE ME HOME. The 'changing shape' line implying that their soulmates could change their soulbound partners if they really wanted to, and could adapt to being with another if they desired it)

"You took advantage of another anxious people-pleaser" (I can't keep doing this. Honestly, depending on your point of view, this could go either way for them in varying seasons, they're doomed in every universe)

"I keep forgetting that you wont learn/So I keep getting hurt" (And now it switches to Grian on this paralleling line. He forgets about Scar's undying loyalty and falls into the trap of his safety every time, only to come out hurting him or not protecting him like he swore to in 3rd Life. This line goes so hard)

Say It:

"Say it/If it's over, say it/So I can move forward/Please don't leave me in the dark/Praying for a wayward spark" (This whole chorus screams them. They won't communicate. They never officially separate from one another, always somehow intertwined, but neither will finalise their allyship. I need therapy)

"I'm haunted by your tenderness" (3rd Life Grian traumatised by the half-hearted hits Scar was giving because he was letting Grian win, he never wanted to fight, he felt Grian deserved to win because he had done so so much for him. He was completely smitten)

"And if we meet as strangers again/Would you refuse to meet my eyes?" (Grian internally questioning Scar after he killed him in the 3rd Life finale, harbouring more guilt than he can comprehend, literally)

"You know I'm loyal to a fault" (Scar and Grian interchangeably in 3rd Life...)

"I will sit here waiting/Waiting for the axe to fall" (Scar submitting his life to Grian after they are left the last two alive. And also, if you're insane for Treebark, there is a glaringly obvious implication of Martyn feeling incredible guilt after axing Ren down to red, even if he asked him to.)

Mad Dog:

"Keep looking for the end of the tunnel/Never seems to get any closer" (The two waiting as winners for the games to end and alongside it, their suffering as well. They will never be free from circling around each other, over and over and over again)

"We both know the ship is gonna sink/But I keep reaching for the shore/Never seems to get any closer" (They both keep reaching towards each other, knowing that they will never truly be able to be together, especially after the first time where they did, and it ended horribly for them)

Arcturus Beaming:

"My sanctuary to worship the pain" (References the panda sanctuary that Scar built to help the soulmates heal their bonds, only to never complete its purpose with the two that needed it the most, ironically including the one that built it)

"And I am tired of forming a cliff face/Inside of my chest now" (Grian remembering jumping off of Monopoly Mountain and the weight that it now burdens his heart with. This line is diabolical with the right context)

"I'm grieving all that I gave" (Both of them grieving the sacrifices they made for one another, their sacrifices only making their relationship more strained overtime)

"A mirror image of us here, but they're pointing up at our sun and/Asking themselves/What exists beyond, beyond, beyond, beyond?" (Other versions of themselves in different life series looking at their 3rd Life selves and wondering what it was like to be so tightly allied)

"But there's still time, it's not too late/Nothing will change until I change" (Grian's attempt at teaming with Scar in Limited Life, savouring the time he had with him before killing him. He will never change their bond, he is always destined to kill him one way or another)

Time Will Change You:

"Planting hearts in a grave/Pray they grow after it rains" (Grian burying all his allies, hoping that as he digs their graves, he can heal their broken bonds, the cracks only caused by himself. This can unfortunately apply to a lot of Grian's allies, but Grian and Scar's relationship tries to heal itself each season)

"Someday/Time will change you/You'll leave behind what doesn't move" (Someday Scar will remember and he'll leave Grian behind once he realises that Grian was never able to move on, and that his heart is still stuck neck deep in the sand where both their bodies laid at the end of 3rd Life)

"Give me a chance to get this right/I'm learning how to let go" (They're learning, but they'll always fail, no matter how many chances)

Black Hole Fantasy:

"There's a black hole in the living room floor/I keep trying to ignore, but it's growing" (Their need to team and interact is overwhelming, and the longer they ignore one another, the larger their need will get)

"If love is just a chemical reaction/Is there a pill to take? Something to quell this ache?/ Is this the real thing or a distraction/Is it worth the risk?/My life would detonate" (Mmmmmm I'm losing it here)

"I'm on my way to your house, I can't wait anymore" (Yeah.)

"My knuckles hesitate an inch away from the door/What happens when it opens?" (They've spent so much time apart and away from one another that they feel fear that the moment they reconnect, it won't be the same as it was in the desert)

"And on the other side is another life/A version of me with a spark in her eyes that I don't have" (Looking back to 3rd Life when everything was simpler and happier)

"You pull me in your arms and I feel your heart pounding/I take a step back to catch my breath/And we look at each other and double over/And laugh, and laugh, and laugh" (Yeah. Just yeah. This whole verse makes me sob)

Red Clay:

(Already I want to make a link to 'red' and Scar's existence in 3rd Life being very red)

"Blistering sun, my sweat soaking my clothing" (THE DESERT???)

"We don't have to do this the hard way" (We don't have to battle to the death bare handed. We don't have to.)

River Rushing:

"I know I can't grow with a hand around my throat/Hold yourself steady/Whenever you're ready" (Reference to their fight to the death in 3rd Life)

This entire song is just a narration of their fight honestly and it makes me violent.

[sheree-says-stuff]

LONG LOST MCR INTERVIEW!!!! RARE!!!!! '06

Interviewer: *laughing* "Alright, welcome to this very candid interview with Frank Iero and Gerard Way. Guys, thank you for joining us today!"

**Frank Iero:** "Yeah, no problem! Always a pleasure to be here."

**Gerard Way:** *eyes glued to iPad screen* "Mm-hmm, sure." *quiet chuckle*

**Interviewer:** *glances at Gerard, then back to Frank* "So Frank, we hear you've developed a bit of an admiration for someone—or, um, something—called 'Hawk Tuah Girl'? Care to explain?"

**Frank Iero:** *grinning* "Oh, yeah, Hawk Tuah Girl. She's honestly been on my mind a lot lately. I know it sounds a little random, but there's something about her that's so... powerful, you know? She’s like, this unfiltered force of nature, just breaking through expectations and being unapologetically herself. I love that. I mean, we could all use a little more of that energy."

**Gerard Way:** *barely looking up from his iPad* "Yeah, but does Hawk Tuah Girl ever, like... flush toilets or something?" *snickers to himself*

**Interviewer:** *laughs nervously* "Uhh, Gerard, not exactly the direction I was thinking we were going in, but, Frank, back to Hawk Tuah Girl—what is it about her that stands out to you?"

**Frank Iero:** "Right, right. So, Hawk Tuah Girl, for me, she represents this kind of freedom—like, the freedom to just exist and be a little weird, without needing validation from anyone else. It’s a vibe. A vibe I’m very much here for. Like, if I was ever stuck in a bad place, I think I could look to her as a reminder that being yourself is enough."

**Gerard Way:** *snorts and glances over at Frank* "So, basically, she’s your spirit animal now?"

**Frank Iero:** *laughs* "Yeah, I guess you could say that. She’s like my punk rock superhero."

**Gerard Way:** *muttering under his breath* "I need a superhero who knows how to hit the 'skip' button on Skibidi Toilet."

**Interviewer:** *laughing* "Gerard, are you... watching *Skibidi Toilet* right now?"

**Gerard Way:** *holds up iPad, showing a clip from *Skibidi Toilet* where a dancing character is wildly out of sync with the music* "Uh, yeah. It’s... art."

**Frank Iero:** *grins mischievously* "See, Gerard's whole thing is balancing deep, introspective moments with... *Skibidi Toilet*."

**Gerard Way:** *shrugs* "It’s a balance. You can’t take yourself too seriously all the time, right? Gotta laugh at the weird stuff."

**Interviewer:** *laughing* "Fair enough! So, Frank, it’s safe to say that Hawk Tuah Girl brings a lot of meaning into your life. Would you say she’s changed your perspective on your own art?"

**Frank Iero:** "Oh, definitely. I think, just like her, I’ve been learning to embrace the messiness, the weirdness. The world doesn’t need another ‘perfect’ version of anything. It needs something that feels real. And Hawk Tuah Girl, man, she’s real. She’s like a reminder to just... make noise and have fun while doing it."

**Gerard Way:** *nodding sagely* "Yeah, and *Skibidi Toilet* reminds me that anything can be art if you believe in it hard enough." *pauses* "Also, I think I might need more toilet humor in my life after this interview."

**Interviewer:** *laughing* "Well, there you have it, folks. Frank Iero finds inspiration in Hawk Tuah Girl, and Gerard... well, Gerard is watching *Skibidi Toilet*. Thank you both for such a delightful and slightly chaotic chat today."

**Frank Iero:** "Anytime. But seriously, if you haven’t checked out Hawk Tuah Girl, you need to. It’s a vibe."

**Gerard Way:** *still transfixed by his iPad* "Yeah... it’s all about the vibe." *mutters* "I’m not skipping this one."

[lu-is-not-ok]

Hello there! My friend introduced me to the Daiyu/Baoyu theory recently and I repaid them by immediately becoming crazy about Soda Hong Lu. Have you looked at Soda Hong Lu in the lens of this theory? Because half joking about this:

1. It is the only EGO that I can recall that features a transformation type sequence

2. In the corrosion, two shrimps attempt to check on the hallucinating Hong Lu/Body; he destroys them in the frenzy

3. It is an EGO that Hong Lu strangely has no Identities for in regards to archetype, Poise, and is one of the EGO for which Hong Lu has a dull eye. (Next Walpur might outdate this one but still squinting at it)

4. It is an Envy EGO, the sin associated with. Yknow.

5. In the pull animation, a shrimp is inexplicably focused on, crying from the same side Hong Lu's jade eye is on.

Idk if this is totally out of the ballpark here, but I'm seeing Soda as an EGO that represents Daiyu being dragged onto the 'boat', that being the family, as Baoyu guiltily observes, barely keeping it together under the idea that the 'boat' is the "better life" as seen on the log for Wellcheers in LCorp. They want to be able to pretend that the transformation is something that'll bring them fortune, just another process in the façade, but as the corrosion shows, one slip will doom them into inconsolable panic. It is an EGO that demands you provide to the group, but it is hanging by a thread. Do you see my logic. Shrimp Jia Family.

So, I'm gonna put it this way.

The things you pointed out about Soda? Huge. Like, they do definitely point towards something and I have my own interpretation of them to share.

Your interpretation of the EGO... I feel like it misses the mark a bit, but that's okay, because it very much can still be about the Two in One Daiyu Baoyu of it all in a way, thanks to the things you pointed out.

Let me explain.

Soda, both for Ryoshu and Hong Lu, is symbolic for their escapism, while also having some major themes of Reality/Fiction.

To briefly show what I mean by explaining Ryoshu's Soda - her form of escapism is that of indulging in the cruel Reality. Note how her Soda focuses on the Wellcheers drink itself - she uses the soda itself to attack, and in the corrosion she turns into the soda as well. Her EGO focuses on the cruel Reality that Wellcheers is a soda company that only cares about people consuming their product, she literally forces her target to drink it in her Awakening animation. Her Corrosion then focuses on the Fictionalization of that Reality, on the rumors that the soda can lead you to wake up on a ship in the middle of an ocean.

This isn't a Ryoshu post though, so if any Ryoshu scholars want to add onto this with their own interpretation of how that connects to Ryoshu's art and how she wishes to reflect reality in all its cruelty, be my guests.

Now, back to Hong Lu's Soda - for him, escapism is the reverse. He indulges in Fiction, his EGO reflecting the life shown in hypothetical Wellcheers' advertisements, happily fishing for shrimp among prawn on a ship in the middle of an ocean, surrounded by seagulls. Then, his Corrosion is the Realization of that Fiction, of what it would be like to actually live on a ship like that, having to hear seagulls scream and run away from you.

And this is where the details you pointed out come in. Because they made me realize something.

The 'Fiction' being symbolized by Soda? It's Hong Lu's current life as 'Hong Lu'.

Here's the thing about the Daiyu Baoyu theory - one of its many parts is that Hong Lu as a person does not exist. 'Hong Lu' is a fake persona. He's not a real person with an actual history, it's a character made up and played by Baoyu to cope with being forced to override Daiyu.

After all, it's not until after Canto 4, where Hong Lu becomes aware of Yi Sang's attempts of calling for help, that he starts actually saying concerning things. Until then he's tried his fucking hardest to make it seem like his homelife is as uneventful as a sheltered rich kid's homelife could be, with the anecdotes only getting more and more actually fucked up when it became clear his turn drew closer. Perhaps because that's what Hong Lu as an act was originally supposed to be - a rich kid like Baoyu but without his baggage, without his trauma. Until he started getting desperate and realizing that he too needs help, but couldn't ask directly without revealing he'd been lying this whole time, so instead he's sprinkling in more and more concerning things hoping Someone Will Get The Hint.

That little tangent aside, I believe this is what the magical girl transformation in the Awakening is meant to symbolize - Baoyu indulging in the Fiction of his new made up persona that is Hong Lu. After all, if you think about it, isn't it a common trope in magical girl shows for the girls to use pseudonyms and keep their true identities secret while transformed? Isn't that exactly what Baoyu is doing while he's acting as Hong Lu?

With that in mind, the prawn that gets focused on in the acquisition animation, the one randomly crying out of the equivalent of Hong Lu's jade eye, could be a little reference to the fact that under the act Baoyu is Fucking Miserable.

And then there's the matter of the ship. If the transformation sequence is a reflection of Baoyu becoming Hong Lu, then what is the ship about?

...It's the bus. The ship is Limbus Company's Bus.

Soda as an E.G.O symbolizes Baoyu's escapism via becoming Hong Lu aboard Limbus Company's Bus, getting carried around to "fish for shrimp" or perhaps hunt for Boughs.

Then there's the Corrosion. The seagulls screaming and crying all around him. The genuine anxiety and panic in his voice (listen to the original file for the voiceline without the effects if you can btw, it's so well acted - you can find it in the Organized Assets drive). The way others try to check up on him and he instead lashes out at them. How the animation seems to purposefully hide the actual enemies being hit so that it seems on first glance like the only things he's attacking are fellow prawn.

Ya'll... this could be another Distortion foreshadowing. Think about it. The realization that his escapist Fiction isn't enough, that the horrible reality he's living in has started to poke through and scream at him and cry at him. And the resulting breakdown causing him to lash out indiscriminately. ...Doesn't that sound like something that could happen with a Distortion?

Alternately, it could simply be a way to show in general what would happen once the act is stripped from Hong Lu. The fear, the panic. The pushing others away. A representation of someone whose escapism is a defense mechanism, and who, upon being stripped of it, cannot handle reality.

So, sorry to say Shrimp Jia Family is likely not the case. Thankfully, we can have the alternative of Shrimp Sinners.

On the other hand, here's a fun semi-related fun fact: the Sin Affinities of the Soda EGOs could in part be references to the two work types you can perform on the Abno to get the grape soda! Gloom representing Repression work, and Envy representing Attachment work. Neat, huh?

[ranticore]

actually it is funny to think about some travelling falconer wandering around with a king harpy who is 100% most definitely the one running the show, who thinks the falconer is like. a fun accessory to show off to others/a mouthpiece to communicate through.

i should explain more about village vs travelling falconers in the ama plains region but the gist is that large villages are usually very wealthy and very well-defended because otherwise they would not exist. crawling beasts are drawn to high population density after all - towns are rare and more like fortresses than what you're likely imagining

consider the bastion fort as a model for what a large ama town might look like (in a less temperate climate):

in some of the larger ones, the 'moat' is actually a continuous firepit which provides passive defence through the night, but the upkeep is insanely costly

anyway the towns here need defending nightly. there are constant waves of enemies it's like the most boring level of a video game, 100% of the time, 365 days a year. those in charge of the town's defence are very selective with their harpies and falconers. the harpies usually breed in the town with occasional input from wild-sourced eggs to keep bloodlines good. the falconers are either former travelling falconers with high accolades looking to settle down, or trained from a very young age in the mews. they're extremely elitist about their falconry techniques and training methods.

for small settlements, they can't afford their own dedicated defence. the resources to supply a harpy flock would be very intensive. that's where we get monster tamers like ambrose who are, for the most part, charlatans who promise they can defend a town with their barely-socialised monsters. travelling falconers fall into this category - it's usually one guy and one harpy who may or may not have been kidnapped as an egg, travelling around and offering budget defence against crawling beasties. falconers are thought to be a little more trustworthy than most because there is the possibility of promotion - if they make a name for themselves and do well, they could be offered a position in a town mews which is by all accounts a cushy job.

but their lives otherwise are very rough. long hours on the road in between spread-out population centres, just yourself and the harpy you probably love and trust but also continuously neglect.

[bansurii]

cocktail

cw: sukuna x reader x yuji }{ yuji has DID and sukuna is his other personality}{ smut, mental disorders, trigger warnings, just don't read it if you cannot handle mental illness discussions and things of the like }{ also reader is a psych major }{ reader choice at bottom for smut }{ unedited, wrote in an hour haha hope you enjoy }{mdni

you didn't expect anything at first. he was cute, he was talkative, he was gentle. you liked his vulnerability, his openness, his judgement-free zone, his carefree and childlike attitude. he was super fucking dope!

you had sex a couple times and it blew your fucking mind. better than anyone you had ever been with. as you started to get to know him more and better than before, you started to fall in love with him. albeit, there were growing feelings anyway from his plans for his life and the way he talked to you as if you had known each other for years. the chemistry was truly unparalleled.

he was everything you asked and more.

after a while, you began to notice subtle changes. small, but noticeable enough. and for a while, you said nothing.

until one night, he said something that made you realize something absolutely startling. it had you on the edge of your mental seat. physically, you were calm. or you'd hoped you looked calm.

he noticed how uneasy you got even if you were damn near unreadable. the part of him that became apparent to you, the version of himself that he tried hard to bury had come through in subtle ways. he knew it scared you, but it was hard for him to hold that part of himself back. he knew that only one of two things would happen whether you left or not.

his insanity would get the best of him and you would accept it, or he would wake up and realize you were gone. as if you had never existed. but the residuals were there. a mark left that could never be removed.

he was obsessed with you. you gave him something no one has given him in a very long time; kindness, vulnerability, friendship, everything he asked and more. you weren't afraid of him in the beginning like most were before. some say they saw someone in him that scared them beyond return. some say it was just his energy. but he wasn't sure what you saw. maybe you were naive. or maybe you knew it but shoved the thoughts and feelings down because you were going through a drought and needed it bad.

but he knew deep down and so did the part of himself he hid: you were the perfect one for him.

he didn't know how long this would last. hell, he didn't even think it would last this long. but he knew he wanted it. he knew he couldn't let you leave him. he knew he couldn't stay away from you. he needed you in every possible way.

he often wondered in the wee hours of the night and the morning if you knew how good it felt to be needed. to be desired. he wondered if you felt the same deep desire for him. he knows it was rather soon, too soon perhaps, that he liked you from the beginning. he was infatuated, but that soon grew to something longer-lasting, something more serious. he had truly never been so compatible with someone before. there were too many similarities and even with other people he knew and was compatible with, knew them for longer too, just never could compare to what he felt with you.

he had been alone so long he just couldn't fathom someone like this existed. someone who was... a universe inside of a human body. alone so long he didn't even know how to act right around someone else. he wasn't a great texter, or phone person in general. he preferred to be in person. he wanted the physical intimacy without the sex that you provided, the safe space, the ability to say nonsensical things and still be appreciated and laughed with and cared for and... loved.

so you visited him again after that night. it was about two weeks later, barely texted or called him this time. he wondered why. if it was something he did, if it was... the energy. if you saw the part of him he didn't want anyone to see.

the switch was slow, where normally it is quick. like a light switching off. but he had been holding onto the spotlight for so damn long... he could feel it switching but it was too late to tell you not to come over. you had already sent your eta and when he checked... you were right around the corner. he didn't want you to waste your trip, but he didn't have enough time to tell you to go back home. he barely had enough time to form the coherent thought before he took over. it was too late. he could only watch from the darkness surrounding him. he clawed, and screamed, and fought and tried his hardest to take the spotlight back but over that period of time, those years he held back, he had been weakened slowly but surely. he lost this time, but he had everything to gain through this. he just didn't know yet.

and when you arrived, he opened the door for you as he normally would and greeted you. he took your jacket, your shoes, your bag and he placed it on the racks by the door for you.

he was taller, you noticed, maybe a posture thing. he had a certain aura around him that was different than the aura you were used to. but otherwise, nothing out of the ordinary.

you wondered if he had done something different somewhere somehow. but you couldn't place your finger on it. the apartment was the same as usual. his hair was the same as usual. his eyes were a little darker, but everything else was the same. except for the mischievous smile as you turned your back to him to sit on his sofa.

it was a two seater, a slightly larger love-seat across from you and you expected him to sit there as he normally did. he said he always sat across from you because he wanted you to feel comfortable and because you were so pretty he wanted to see you at all times.

it was charming at first. but now, you wonder if there was something else... something behind the real reason he sat so far away.

he sat next to you. you wondered if he was alright, he was so quiet, so... calculative, it seemed.

"how are you tonight? you haven't texted or called as much as you usually do. you seeing someone else already?"

it was shocking hearing that. you wondered if he was alright but you were a bit too startled to voice it. you took a moment to look into his eyes. he seemed very serious about it despite his next comment.

"just kidding. i know you have a life outside of hanging out with me. you thirsty?"

you smiled and nodded, "no, i brought water."

he smirked, "good. if you change your mind, i've got plenty of drinks."

"thanks... how are you?"

"i'm good. even better now that you're here."

his smile was genuine this time, nothing wild about it. it was beautiful as usual, somehow even sexier. like a grown man, not a random uni student with nice features. this had to be someone different entirely.

and as you sat and stared at him more while he filled you in further on his past couple weeks of not speaking to you often--which he greatly emphasized--you realized just how different he did look when you stared closely, observed, and heard some things. they weren't the usual comments, usual witty remarks and the occasional whimsy responses.

"yuji, are you sure you're alright?"

and the smile you watched grow from normal to really big to verging on deranged shook you to your core.

"not yuji."

the hand on your thigh grew tighter, threatening to break through the fabric of your stockings and tear through your skin. you weren't sure why or how it was possible, but the look he was giving you, the feeling of the pressure on your body --even in places untouched-- really turned you on. he looked positively fucked out...

"i... don't understand..."

"dissociative identity... you should know that, miss psych major. but perhaps you haven't been able to focus lately because you were so focused with this... idea of who we really are... not talking to us for weeks... being scarce... making our chest hurt... you should know better, princess. we don't take lightly to being ignored. under any circumstances."

your heart nearly beat out of your chest. you couldn't focus properly on anything for some reason. it was like he was putting you in a trance with his voice and touch alone. and it took you a moment to realize his hand slowly started running upward, pressing into your sensitive spots, never touching where you needed him most, just smooth, subtle back and forth very close and too far.

"oh."

a breathless response was all you could offer... and in turn, it was all he needed. he knew you wanted him even more after figuring this out. he knew you liked this "hurt little lamb with a side of wolf" idea of him. he knew exactly what you wanted, what you liked, and what you needed. he had plenty of time to learn you through the lenses of the child he shared a body with.

he just needed you pliant and willing, which you already were. he liked that, less effort for him to sway your mind.

because if princess treatment was what you wanted, he would serve it on a golden platter. he already knew you liked the other version of him enough, he knew you were ready for the switch even if you thought you weren't ready for the switch. but you would assimilate accordingly. right?

he would give you what you wanted and what you needed. he would pretend he needed saving so you could... heal him. he would be everything you needed him to be. and he would trap you with the baby he would help you raise. you were... breedable. he liked that a lot. he needed it.

his touches were needier, he grew closer, his lips whispering sweet promises of what was to come in your ear, kissing lightly up and down your neck, sucking on that sensitive little spot on your neck. pulled you closer so he could trail those kisses and bites down your shoulder.

he pulled that cute sweater off so he could see your beautiful body, he was gentle with a hint of aggression. he wanted you to feel comfortable yet desired fiercely. he needed to spear you. he needed to feel every part of you.

usually there was a condom readily available. but oh, so conveniently... "i ran out."

you were too turned on and turned out by him at this point to stop him. he was clean... and so were you... so there wasn't a problem. right?

he made quick work of your bra, licking your chest and making sure to leave those hickies you both loved so dearly. he made the sweetest love to your breasts. licking, sucking, kneading the other in one hand and switching between each nipple, each mound of flesh.

he loved your breathlessness, your soft moans, your fingers in his hair, the one rubbing up and down his arm to his back. the wet lips, the heavy breaths... and most of all those eyes... so fucked and barely touched... so sensitive...

he wanted to steal all of you from everyone you knew, everything you did daily, he wanted to have you all to himself every day in every kind of way.

he needed to see you from sun up to sun down.

he made quick work of your skirt and stockings, the pretty thong soaked in your nectar was a sight to behold. he took a mental screenshot, one he would recreate later... if you were willing.

he removed the thong, slowly being sucked between those beautiful lips with every growing second of your arousal. he made sure to pull from the center of the thing, pushing his finger between your lips purposely as he pulled the center back and tugged, leaving his finger soaked and your pussy wanting...

he lifted your legs as he pulled the thong down, but he liked the residue of your arousal nearby, so he left it wrapped around one thigh. entirely naked for him, open and ready and he barely touched you.

he wasn't sure if he wanted to eat you out, fuck you silly, or watch you do it all yourself and struggle to take all of him without his help...

he knew yuji liked doing all the work, pure princess treatment. but this time, he wanted to remove those privileges... punishment for his pretty princess this time...

which one?

[34saveme34]

Oh SMG4, do you never learn?

---

This time… it would become perfect… It really would! At least SMG4 was sure as he sat in front of his computer, at a rather late hour at night, trying to figure out his video. It was half finished at this point. He watched a certain bit over and over. Repeating it. Really paying attention. Humming as thoughts came to his mind. And none were supporting this. Was this video… actually funny? He sighed, deleting a big chunk he thought was the unfunny bit and tried to figure out if he could come up with anything. Maybe with a well placed transition he could add the comedic timing he needed? No uh… Was the script actually good? He looked it over and it just… it sounded dumb. More dumb than usual, not even the good kind. He could feel a wave, as if through his spirit but no, it was the soon oncoming headache making his job way harder. But he worked until he could look at that screen. But did it become so… Uncomfortable. His eyes felt uncomfortable… The light… so much! It’s too much! 

He got up, he needed… He needed to do something else!

Each step he took away from his computer felt painful. It felt like precious time being wasted. So much time he could spend… creating. And he loves creating so that’s… This was just so wasteful!

He closed his door and it felt as if he could breathe again. The air was fresh, the castle was weirdly quiet and 4 decided to head for the kitchen. He could barely even comprehend anything around him with the change of scenery, let alone that this was supposed to be weird. 

He grabbed some milk and cereal to eat. He poured some. He stared at the bowl for a bit. Probably not long but who knows, time felt unreal to him then.

He started eating, each crunch feeling so loud. He wasn’t sure if he liked this or not. He remembered his video. How the joke carried in it. He chuckled which he did at the wrong time as he choked on his cereal for a second.

It was as if sobriety hit him. He was struggling but he never felt so real. For a second, nothing else existed but that stupid ass cereal trying to kill him. He resumed, now unnervingly awake. And the whole time he was, with the same intensity, it wouldn’t go away.

He finished up. He washed the bowl away he used along with the spoon as well, deciding it shouldn’t be left for later and definitely not because he was procrastinating.

He finished and just stood there. It had to be perfect. Ugh… The transition idea is awful, it could never work with the kind of joke he was telling there. Maybe something inbetween that other part of the joke so there’s just… some air there? Ugh where would he even need to go with this to make it right? Maybe stopping it for a second to explain the joke in a really matter of fact way to add some ironic layering to the whole bit? Ugh noooo… That was such a bad phase of jokes anyways! And it’s so old fashioned at this point! Only SMG3 would do such stupid things, it wasn’t 4’s thing to be a saint of dead memes or something. Without further thought, he discarded that thought. None of what he had in mind was good enough which meant he needed to do research…

He went to his room to search for his phone. He searched his bed, his desk, everywhere around his computer, the ground, any kind of surface where it could end up on. But it was nowhere. Instead, he found a note, attached to a trash bag he kept by his table. He decided to keep one there because the coffee cups from 3’s and all the ordered food he’d get made quite a lot of trash and he didn’t like leaving the room to take them out. Especially because of course he’d always need to take it out when he just really got into the zone. 

“Come to the café, we need to talk, you’ll get your phone back after” was written on the note.

4 didn’t know what to think for a moment. So… 3 took his phone, huh? There was slow rage building up in him. He was SO in the zone too, with his thoughts so strongly all about his to-be-perfect video. This time could’ve been it but noooo 3 had to play stupid games. Well, you know what they say… Fuck around and find out, SMG3.

4 went over, stomping to 3’s, but in such a tired way. But he didn’t realise that. He was too angry for that.

He saw Luigi, 3, Mario, Meggy and Tari at a table, talking. He also spotted his phone there on the table, luckily not in use at all. He didn’t need another dose of 3’s search history…

But this still felt so… So intimidating to him. Why were there so many of them? If it was just 3 he would fight him for his phone and then he’d quickly be back to work on his life work but nooo- Nooo instead it had to be many of his friends! And he frankly felt scared. He stood there for a while to the point that his friends noticed him. They stared at him and he stared back. He really didn’t want to go inside.

3 looked clearly more and more annoyed until he sighed, got up and walked towards 4. 4 didn’t know how to handle this. As the man got closer, he took a step back too, albeit not as many, making him rather easy for 3 to reach. And as soon as he did, without a word, even a hello or something, he dragged him inside the café by his arm. Not that 4 really resisted. While he was scared he was also still confused. This situation couldn’t be real… right? Damn it.

3 let go of 4 when he managed to finally get 4 to be in front of everyone. With all their eyes on him.

“Can I just get my phone back?” 4 asked, quietly. He didn’t want to seem like he was gonna lash out any moment. It was hard though… Who could even have an idea on what they could do to him if they had a reason to think he was in any way possibly unstable mentally. Not to say that wasn’t the truth though.

“Well-” Meggy said “This is… an intervention”

“Yeah, we’re worried for you, SMG4!” Tari said with sadness in her voice that almost managed to make 4 sad. 3 was now oddly silent.

“I don’t need an intervention! I’m a full time funnyman, I need to tend to it as well!”

“But SMG4! Even the funniest men need a break!” Mario pleaded “Mario would be so happy to see his best friend take a well deserved break!”

“I. DON’T. need… I DON’T NEED A BREAK!!” 4, although exhausted he still managed to scream at his friends.

“SMG4…” Luigi tried intervening “You do deserve one! You work so hard everyday! I don’t know anyone else who deserves a break as much as you do!”

“I have SO many better things to do than to argue with you guys! I have a video I still need to finish! I was SO close to finding the right thing to make it extra funny too! But you of course have to sabotage me with your cute little intervention, thinking it’s what I need! Well I don’t need this, in fact, this is making it so m-” 4’s rant was cut short by 3 slapping him. The room became hazed in silence. Nobody knew what to say. 3 was looking at 4 with a glare that could almost burn him away. Not that he could look away. 

“... And what was that for? I was clearly talking” 4 said, trying to keep his anger back.

“You-” 3 started.

“SMG3, we talked about this!” Meggy stopped him.

“Enough.” 3 looked at her. He sighed then looked back at 4 “SMG4. Do you know how fucking worried everyone is for you? It’s like you don’t care at all. I’ve never known someone AS selfish as YOU. And I’ve known some dastardly people yet no one comes close to the lack of care you demonstrate for your friends. BECAUSE you don’t look after yourself, we have to look after you and you push us away each time. Who’s the tsundere in this crew again, asshole?? WHO??”

“You don’t NEED TO CARE ABOUT ME!”

“YOU DON’T GET TO DICTATE THAT”

“Guys I think we should ca-” Tari tried to cut the fight off but failed.

“Well, I DON’T want your care. I’ll take my phone now. And then you have to leave me alone”

3 grabbed 4’s arms before he could take his phone.

“You’re DESTROYING yourself!”

“And it’s worth it”

“Do you really care so little about us?”

“Maybe I do”

3 let go of 4’s arms. Prolonged silence. 4 sobered up from his anger as he saw 3 start crying.

Before 4 could say anything, 3 spoke his mind instead.

“Good to know that everything I’ve ever said to you meant nothing then. Thanks for that, a-asshole” 3 left to his room without another word. 4 could only stand there stunned. God, did that hurt… Why did he have to even say that?

“If that’s how you feel” Mario said “Maybe it’s better if Mario leaves too” he then went to 3’s room, presumably to comfort him.

“Here’s your phone, go now” Meggy put his phone in his hands.

“Meggy-” 

“Don’t. Just go. You’ve caused enough damage as is. BESIDES you said you don’t care. So act like that”

“I… agree… If your work is more important to you than us then just go away” Tari forced it out then started crying.

“There there… It’s his loss” Luigi tried his best offering comfort to Tari before shooting a fast glare at SMG4. He wasn’t welcome there anymore.

He turned to leave with a strong grip on his phone. If he were to be choking his phone with a little more strength he would’ve broken it already. Regardless, his legs carried him back to his castle, a symbol of teamwork disgraced. And then back to his room, a reminder of the person he hurt the most. It hurt too much.

He sat in front of his computer, placing down his phone on his desk. Yet, he was unable to work. They really… he really shouldn’t have done that… Was he starting to become like that again? He swore he got over it but the need… The need to prove himself would just come back to haunt him anyways. Haunting him in his bones like tales he was supposed to learn from. And he’d be damned if he didn’t try and might as well be because he failed. What a better way than to sit and wallow in self pity over something he caused himself? He didn’t mean to, he really didn’t. He didn’t want to hurt anyone. And yet he did. SMG3 was totally right, he had really grown so… selfish. But this stagnation of just sitting and doing nothing was killing him.

“Man…” he sighed loudly to himself “I wish I could forget and move on…”

“I could do that” a strange voice SMG4 hadn’t heard before called out.

“HUH WHAT HUH” he whipped his head around, searching where the voice could come from.

“I’m right here” the voice called out again. Finally 4 found them, looking back at them from their monitor.

He could only see them looking out from under a window he had open, it was his project. Due to it, he could only see some of them, for which he moved the window away from them. Finally, he could see the stranger in their computer, looking back at him a little unimpressed. With a cold green eye looking back at him, the other one obscured by their rather long one sided bang. Some of their hair was tied in a ponytail. Their dark gray lipstick also served quite the contrast with their fair skin. Then he noticed what seemed like a microphone attached on their scarf. It just felt… weird… Wait…

“Are you in any way affiliated with Mr Puzzles?” he looked at them sceptically.

“Not as far as I’m concerned.” they said “But yes, isn’t it rude of me to not introduce myself? I’m Ann Tertainment, but just call me Annie please…”

“Uhuh… Why are you in my computer… can I turn you off….”

“You can try” they grinned. 

SMG4 took this as a challenge, opening task manager. To his absolute horror, none of the programs listed in there could be traced back to them. 

“Damn…”

“Don’t be too sad… it’s gross… But… back to your laments, SMG4”

“Hm?”

“I could help you”

“How do you plan to do that?”

“Which one do you care more about? Your friends or youtube?”

The question caught 4 off guard. It really stunned him.

“Why… Why are you asking me that?”

“I have the power to make you forget one or the other. If I make you forget about youtube, you can go and have fun with your friends without having to worry about your perfection complex again”

“Mhmm?”

“Or, I can make you forget about your friends so you can finally finish your lifework and make a perfect video and prove that you’re still worth it. Honestly, a rather fulfilling purpose… unless you care more about your friends”

4 looked in front of himself.

“I’ll give you time to choose but there is a time limit. By then, you have to decide, which way you want to go”

“A….Alright”

Was he genuinely considering this? Oh god…

By the time he could ask any more questions from Annie, they were gone. Dang.

---

Alright! Now you have to choose for SMG4 since he definitely can't!

some stuff before that:

- Please think of the implications of both choices before voting

- Sorry but there is no way to refuse Annie's offer, it's choose to forget something or perish

- By the end of the vote, I will add together all votes both from here and Tumblr to decide

- If overall vote goes over 100 votes, I will release both possible endings

This poll will also go at Google Forms too! And possibly for longer so if you miss the Tumblr one you might still get a chance at that one. Yes you're also allowed to do both Forms and Tumblr if you want, I can't check it in a meaningful way anyways

happy voting :3

[superheroandcodlover]

So before i finish the first chapter i do want to clear the relationship that each member of the batfamily has with the reader, so here it goes!

Damian

At first you and him were swore enemies and they would fight all the time behind the rest back since you don't want to lose the image of them towards you as a easy and no problematic kid it was the only way to get some attention but after you finally became a vigilante the thing between you two would calm you found his vulnerable side the side that dick loved and you got attached to him you two would fight often still but it wasn't anything compared to before and then his death happened....and that would cause a lot of things affecting YOU

Dick

He knows you but he doesn't care that much since he just assumed that you would always be there no matter what and he barely said hi to you thinking that you were okay you didn't need him right? you have alfred and the rest they sure love you even thought you were a little stubborn and annoying sometimes

Jason

Jason didn't know much about you like the rest but he did care he was the only one that shared more than a cold "how are you?" with you he tried to ask about your day but he was always busy leading to never really talking much with you just every now and then and your conversations were superficial talks about your day but it never was heart to heart conversation he would just nod and share his day too and then go to work with your dad

Bruce

He was never a father to you he cares about you just not deeply it was a bitter sweet thing since you looked so much like your mother who was a thief and a meta and he didn't do his father duties he left all that to alfred since he didn't know how to deal with you and well he was busy being batman and bruce wayne at the same time you sure understand you were a easy kid never doing anything wrong or asking for anything at all

Stephanie Brown

She is polite to you at least the two times you two meet she doesn't know you really well she just knows you exist but she won't think about you like never she prefers to hang out with the others

Cass

She is silent and you are too so it never was meant to work, just as Steph knows you exist but you are not in his top three priorities or five...or ten but you don't care...right? And you were a good kid for what she heard from Alfred you sure understand

Alfred

It is a father and daughter relationship but you have a problem with trying to make people proud because you feel that if you don't they won't love you, and your family does nothing to help you try to overcome that though so you always cause the least problem and it was kinda weird for a ten year old that just wanted to help