#Will I ever stop being so bitter about my loneliness.......

[caluski]

Today is the perfect day for a late afternoon coffee date. Anyone?

[pervertwhore]

LEON'S GUILTY PLEASURE

SIREN IS TYPING . . writing debut! :33 this is my first ever leon fic, so please be nice! 3: i accidentally went a bit too far and made the word count 9.4k words..um..enjoy! reblogs and replies are really helpful & help me stay motivated so if you have any kind words to share, please do! i would love to hear them! i’m sorry for the really long delay in posting this but UHHH!!! idk ;(( my bae 3k helped me with the plot for the call & i hope i tagged everyone ^_^ i did my best to proofread so hopefully it’s good!

CONTAINS: older man leon! x pornstar! reader — age gaps, alcoholism, mutual masturbation, leon is co-depended with your content, he adores you, hinted erectile dysfunction, leon is lonely and sad, reader is there to put on a show for him, video call sex, dildo use, etc!

SYNOPSIS: a lonely man copes with two things, alcohol and porn, one night he comes across a video that catches his eye, pushing him down a spiral of coping through you. he adores you and your work, his only want in life is to get closer to you, and when you make a contest and offer the winner a chance at a one on one call with you, leon jumps at the opportunity.

slumping down onto his bed, a drunk leon kennedy, sat back.

a small groan left his lips as nausea swirled around inside his stomach, he didn’t have food in his system, and his stomach was full of whiskey.

aerial shoot, his favorite.

but, fuck. he overdid it, throughout the whole evening he had been nursing a new bottle of the bitter whiskey, drinking it down like it was water, not caring about the way it burned his throat. by now it was empty, the drug seeping into his system like a blanket, making his body feel hot.

slipping down onto his bed, leon stared blankly at the roof, the room was dark and quiet.

he wasn’t tired, he was drunk, but not tired. another groan came from him, his large calloused hand moving to his face. he rubbed his forehead, trying to ease the throbbing sensation in his head. he had always been tolerant of alcohol, but tonight his body couldn’t take it anymore. he thanked a higher being for not being insanely nauseous, he wasn’t in the mood to spew up the alcohol.

he let out a deep breath before he reached out and grabbed his phone.

hitting the power button, his eyes shut immediately as the blinding light of his phone hit his eyes. “jesus, fuck—“ he grunted, quickly turning down the brightness.

looking at the screen, he wasn’t surprised when he was met with an empty inbox. no texts, no calls, no emails.

a sigh left his lips, the reminder of his loneliness brought a heavy weight inside his chest. looking to his side, there was an empty spot next to him, the bed was cold.

he was lonely.

despite what he tried to tell himself, he craves romance, he craves stability. the idea of living a happy married life was something he dreamed about when he was younger, before 1998, before he became what he is now. now he scoffs at romance because deep down, he knows no one would want to be with an alcoholic old man. his prime is gone a distant memory. he feels like a shell of himself, he doesn’t have much to live for now.

the cycle of self-hatred and self-loathing was part of his daily routine, at night, he gets lost in his thoughts.

he can’t go a day sober, it would kill him. at least that’s what he thinks.

the memories of the people he had lost haunt him, no matter how much time passes, the vacant space he has in his heart doesn’t go away. no matter what he does to try and get rid of it.

the dating scene wasn’t for him, not anymore, not at this age.

he could go and pay for hookers and prostitutes to fulfill his sexual needs, but it was never enough. the pleasure was temporary.

he wasn’t happy.

leon hasn’t been happy in a long time, so long in fact, he doesn’t remember how it feels.

his gaze focused on his phone, he wanted to stop thinking. he needed to forget everything, his grief, his anger, his loneliness. that’s why he relied on alcohol, but tonight he didn’t want to drink himself to sleep.

so, that left him with one more option.

opening the internet on his phone, his dull eyes focused as his fingers typed.

pornhub.com

this was pathetic, leon thought to himself. he was pathetic, and he knew that, but that didn’t stop him from pressing on the top link.

his thumb tapped against the glass screen, entering the website.

he was quickly met with the thumbnails of various sexual acts. from girls with a cock shoved down their throats, to girls getting folded while a man is on top of them. leon was uninterested.

he never liked porn videos made with high production, it was fake, unappealing. the bright lighting, the obnoxious moaning, and the stupid faces the girls make. it was ick worthy, leon always preferred amateur porn. it was charming when a video was poorly produced, with bad quality, and crooked angles. he liked that over other porn videos.

opening the search bar, he typed the word amateur. after clicking search, he scrolled down various videos before he found one that caught his attention.

it was a masturbation video, the title wasn’t crazy either.

college girl masturbates solo :)

it was cute, the little smiley face felt so out of place on a site like this, but it piqued his curiosity. in the thumbnail your hands were between your thighs, and the position of your phone was up — like you were taking a selfie. he didn’t see much of your face, by the angle he could only see your soft lips as you bit your bottom lip. you were wearing a cute set of lingerie, too.

there was something so cute about you, from the cutesy title and your pretty lingerie, his curiosity lead him to click on the video.

the video loaded and the first thing he saw was your breasts as you adjusted the camera down. you were holding it yourself, the camera facing you. as the camera moved down, he saw your hands slipping down to your panties.

he couldn’t see your face, seems like you were shy.

he watched with anticipation as your fingers pressed against your clothed cunt, rubbing slow gentle circles on your clit. turning up the volume of his phone, he heard the way your breath hitched. he could see as your tummy moved up and down with every breath you took.

leon’s stomach tightened as blood began to rush to his cock, his hand moving to palm against his pants as he got hard.

after a minute of teasing, you put the phone down against your bed, leon heard fabric shuffling. after a few seconds, you grabbed the phone again. the angle stayed the same, but now he could see your pretty pussy.

it was slick, glistening.

his mouth went dry as he took in the sight, your manicured fingers gently pressed against your perky clit, your touch was light, and you were savoring the pleasure.

leon heard a soft moan leave your lips, his hips squirmed as he grabbed his cock through the fabric of his pants. his hand moving to slowly grope himself.

he continued to watch with eager eyes, his hand moving to unbutton his jeans and unzip his pants. eagerly, he slipped his hand under his underwear, his hand pulling his cock out.

it was standing tall, pre-cum leaking from the slit.

he shuddered, he hasn’t been this hard in what felt like forever. he genuinely thought he lost his spark, he was in his late thirties after all.

his hand wrapped around his cock, a shaky breath left his lips as he squeezed it. his cock was thick, it wasn’t the biggest there was, but it would leave girls dumbfucked. or well, it used to. he hasn’t gone that hard in a while.

his cock was pretty, his tip was reddish, veins adorned it. the ones that made the girls mushy and whimpery.

the mental image of the girls he’s shoved his cock into filled his head. truthfully, he doesn’t really remember faces, but he remembers how they reacted. their bodies trembling and loud moans.

oh, how he missed it.

as he stared at your pretty pussy, all he could think about was shoving his cock deep inside you. have you whimpering and gasping his name as he kept you folded.

his cock twitched, fuck.

you were getting him so hard, he didn’t even think it was possible given his track record in the last few years. biting the inside of his cheek, he let out a breath, he was this hard over a girl on a porn website, but he couldn’t get this hard when he was balls deep inside a hooker’s cunt. god, this was pathetic.

pathetic, pathetic, pathetic..

you’re pathetic leon.

even as the words repeated in his head, his hand was still working on his cock, jerking and tugging on his shaft. his eyebrows were furrowed and his lips parted slightly, keeping his gaze on you, he watched as you rubbed your clit faster.

he could hear your small shaky moans, you were close and so was he.

his balls were tightening, his breathing was heavy, small pants leaving his lips as he rubbed his cock raw. chasing for a high he hasn’t felt in years.

a choked groan left his lips as he came, cum spurting out of his tip in amounts he hasn’t had since he was in his twenties. his cum was milky and thick. he continued to gently jerk his cock as he rode out his orgasm, another groan leaving his lips as his head leaned back.

his eyes fluttered shut as he felt his cock softening in his hands.

holy fuck.

his mind was fuzzy, he had almost forgotten about his phone until he heard a moan come from it. he moved his gaze towards the screen and watched as your hand stayed between your thighs before they slammed shut and you began to ride out your orgasm.

leon watched with eager eyes as you rode out your high nicely.

he squirmed and let go of his flaccid cock, his cum staining his hand, his stomach, and his pants.

he moved his hands and they gripped his phone again, he tapped on your username and watched your profile. your profile picture was a shy picture of your chest, a different set of lingerie holding your tits up.

looking at your bio, he shuddered as he read your information.

your name was pretty, it suited you. he saw your age listed, twenty-one, he just had the cum of his life to a video of a twenty-one-year-old? a feeling came to him, he didn’t know how to feel. staring at his screen, his mind still processing that information, should he be disgusted? guilty? ashamed?

he sucked in a breath and gulped.

him, a man in his late thirties, almost forty, just came to a video of a twenty-one year old girl.

it felt wrong, right? she was almost two decades younger than him, when the racoon city incident happened you weren’t even born yet. this had to be wrong.

but it wasn’t, and he knew that.

sure, the gap was questionable, but it was legal. yet, he felt so..wrong.

the worst part was that even after he realized this, he still watched your other videos.

choked moans left your glossy lips, your eyes shut and eyebrows furrowed up in pleasure. your mouth was slightly agape, forming an ‘o’ shape. leon’s cock slamming down into your cunt, his hand was placed on the small for your back as he held your upper body down and kept your ass up.

he let out small pants, his eyes shutting in bliss.

your walls were warm and snug, sucking his cock back inside your cunt with a wet squelch. you were so wet, your cunt practically drooling. it was driving him mad.

his free hand was gripping your ass, holding onto the fat like his life depended on it, his dull nails digging into your skin. he let out a guttural groan as he felt your pussy tighten around him, squeezing, milking him. he didn’t have the self control he had back then, he was edging himself to try and last longer.

it was hard, his balls were heavy with cum, cum he wanted to stuff deep inside you.

his eyes shut tightly, he bit down onto his bottom lip, his thrusts got sloppily — fuck, fuck, fuck. “s-shit—“ he choked out, his head leaned back as a whimper slipped past his lips. his cock throbbed no matter how hard he tried to stop himself, his cum spurted out of his tip.

he shook as it spurted in waves, his eyes fluttered open and he panted. “sorry—“ he said, feeling bad for not letting you cum first and filling you up without any form of protection. you hummed in reply, your ass still in the air as he pulled out. his cock getting softer, his lidded gaze watched as his cum slipped out of your puffy pussy, falling in glops onto his sheets.

he felt hot as he watched it, he was about to say something when—

his eyes opened and a shaky breath left his lips, it took a moment for him to adjust to his surroundings. quickly sitting up on his bed, leon was met with the saddening realization he was alone.

you weren’t sleeping next to him, his bed was cold.

not only that, but his pants were wet. he pulled the blanket off his body and groaned when he realized he had cum inside his pants. rubbing his forehead, he slipped off his bed groggily.

it was still dark out, his bedroom was completely dark aside from the natural light of the moon that entered through his windows.

leon hastily took his pants and underwear off, throwing them across the room to where he thought his laundry basket was. he walked to his cabinets and dug into his underwear drawer before he put them on, stumbling a bit before he finished.

running his hands through his hair, he stalked over to his bed and laid down.

reaching out for his nightstand, he grabbed his phone, this time he was mindful of the brightness so he adverted his eyes and quickly lowered it before staring at the screen.

no new messages, he frowned, except an email. it was an advertisement.

he scrolled through his apps and found one, the one you’re most active on.

instagram.

leon was rather clueless about social media, but the only reason he had it was to stalk your account. he opened the app and saw that you had uploaded a new story. he quickly tapped on the bubble and watched through your posts.

you were out that night, you took photos and various videos of the night. wearing a little black dress, your tits were practically spilling out, one wrong move and your panties would be exposed. you looked beautiful though, he adjusted himself in his bed and stared at the picture you captioned ‘fit check! :D.’ he couldn’t get over how cute your little captions were, it was humorous. a cute little emoticon at the end of a text while the picture behind it was you in the sluttiest outfit you could find.

biting the inside of his cheek, leon took a screenshot of the story and continued to scroll by your posts.

you looked so happy, so pretty. leon loved the way you smiled, all teeth, it all seemed so genuine. you were with your friends in the videos, giggling and dancing along to whatever song the club was blasting.

after he finished going through your story, he clicked on your account, no new posts. a deep sigh left his lips as he put his phone back on his nightstand and turned to his side. pulling the blankets up, it didn’t take long for him to fall asleep once more.

leon wasn’t sick.

he wasn’t a bad man, he wasn’t a freak, he was just lonely.

he was lonely and desperate, that’s what he told himself. he had this lingering guilt that manifested in the back of his head, you’re a sick man, leon. that’s what it repeated, every night, while he re-watched your videos and looked through the photos he had saved, it spoke.

sick. you are sick.

leon swore he wasn’t, he was just a broken man. one that found solace in you.

the age gap was eating him up inside, he had never thought of himself as someone who would find girls in their twenties attractive. yet, where he was.

he didn’t want to imagine what people would say if they found out he jerked off nightly to the thought of you. not just your videos, but the thought of you. he found himself daydreaming about you, not just in sexual situations, but romantic ones.

at the store he finds himself looking at the flower display, thinking about getting you flowers, trying to guess what flowers you would like the most. in public, when he saw couples, a bitter swirl churned in his stomach. jealousy, he was jealous that he couldn’t do the same with you.

this was developing into more of a followership, it was slowly seeping into the realm of obsession. delusion was his best friend.

occasionally, you participated in live streams.

it was cute, you were more talkative there, and you interacted with your followers happily. he was a quiet supporter, he didn’t use the chat room. you were too intimidating, he didn’t want to say something that could make you uncomfortable. he mostly gave you gifts, sending in money for you, he didn’t say much when he donated. occasionally he would type a small message for you to read with each donation, but it was rare.

that didn’t matter though. being able to hear you say his name, albeit his username, made him happy.

in these live streams, he’s been able to learn a lot about you. he knows you’re a college student, he knows you’re studying literature, he knows you’re a good student, he knows your favorite food, your favorite animal, how you like to spend your time, and much more.

he knows more about you than the people he knows in his life.

tonight, you had scheduled a livestream. posting about it on your instagram story.

‘i’m gonna be live tonight at 8 p.m. come by to talk, and i have a surprise too! >_<’ leon was curious, a surprise? so, of course he entered the stream after you started it. he needed to know what you were planning, maybe he could be part of it.

you sat in front of your camera and greeted all of the people coming in.

leon stared at you, you were so pretty, he thought. god, he felt like a teenage boy.

get a fucking grip.

your eyes focused on the screen where the chat box was opened, he watched as your eyes lit up, “welcome back, kennedy!” you said, looking back at the camera. looking straight at him.

his mouth went dry when you addressed him.

he clicked on the chat box, looking through to see if there was another kennedy, he didn’t want to jump straight to conclusions and embarrass himself. but there was no one else with the display like that.

SKENNEDY001

okay, he wasn’t very good at making usernames. he stared at his screen, unsure of what to do. you addressed him, should he say hi back? he’s never spoken in the chat room before. what if this went wrong?

slowly tapping on the keyboard, he replied with a simple. ‘hello, how are you?’ — best he plays it safe, right? his face feels hot, and he feels embarrassed. he’s always been more of a silent admirer, honestly, he never expected you to actually notice him. all sorts of different thoughts filled his head, from negative to positive. what would people think, what would you think if you found out that the biggest reason you’re paying your bills was because of some man in his late thirties who watches your content like it’s the news.

but what if you were into that? he’s heard stories about girls thinking older men were attractive, were you that type?

“i’ve been good!” you replied, snapping him out of his flood of thoughts. “i’ve seen you around, i think you might be my biggest fan.” you winked.

leon’s heart was practically beating out of his chest, he knew you meant it like a compliment, but it felt like you were pointing out how much of a lonely loser he is. “i just wanted to say thank you, your donations really help.” you said with a smile, that same pretty smile that drove him crazy, the smile he adored.

he didn’t know what to say, if he wanted to, he could write a detailed essay about you and how much he admires obsesses over you.

‘you’re welcome.. i like to support you.’ he typed back, after hitting send, he squirmed. did that sound weird? staring at your face intensely as you read through the chat, you let out a small laugh. “thank you, kennedy.” you replied, looking back at the camera. seeing how full the stream was getting, he decided that this was the end of the conversation.

his chest felt fuzzy, a feeling he hadn’t had in years, a feeling he had completely forgotten about.

he was obsessed with you.

the stream continued smoothly, you teased the camera, showing off your body and tempting the men, like him, who watched. by now he needed to rub one out during your streams, who would he be if he didn’t?

the stream was coming to a close, but before you spoke. “oh! the surprise from earlier, i almost forgot.” you said with a small laugh as you leaned back against your chair.

“basically, i was thinking, why not have a little contest.” you said, smirking at the camera. “imagine this is an auction,” you said, “the highest bidder gets to have a private, on one, video call with me.” you said, looking at your camera. “who knows, maybe that call can lead to something else.” you hummed, winking at the camera as you slid your hand down your chest.

leon blinked, a call with you? it was a dream come true. the only thing this lonely man could ask for.

you continued on, opening a gift box for anyone who wanted to get a chance with you.

he ignored how this could lead to poor financial decisions, he needed that call. he needed you for himself, he needed you to address him — to talk to him, he needed your attention like a lost puppy.

the gift period was only open for about fifteen minutes, first come first serve type of thing.

luckily, unlike the other people in the stream, he’s a government agent. with that title comes money, so as a way to secure that call, he sent you thousands.

he watched as you read the screen, your eyes widening as you saw the notification come in that you had received a few thousand dollars from your shy admirer. “holy shit.” you gasped, “okay— we have a winner! we have skennedy001 that donated over a thousand dollars!” you said, stammering as surprise filled your bones. “i’m closing the bid, that’s way too much money!” you said, giggling as you shut the bid off.

the people in the chat were going crazy, some were taking the loss like losers while the others congratulated the mystery man.

not too long after the stream ended, leon shut his phone off and stared at it. a deep breath left his lips, he didn’t know what to expect after being called the winner, but when he got a notification someone had messaged him through the streaming app, he opened it.

what he didn’t expect was to have a message from you in his inbox.

‘hey, kennedy! omg, that donation was insane! i didn’t expect that much money, please let me give you some money back! i really don’t deserve that much!! :,,)) you’re so sweet, and i appreciate it sososo much!!’

leon stared at the screen, double-checking that it was really you that had contacted me, his face got hot, did he overdo it? was that too desperate? oh, definitely it was, but still.

running his fingers through his hair, he began to type back, trying to brainstorm what to say, but after a solid five minutes of debating his options, he finally replied.

‘hello, i’m glad you appreciated it, but no. it’s okay, you can keep all of it. that’s the reason i donated it. spoil yourself.’

he typed back, his icy blue eyes hyper focused on the screen, he watched as in the span of a few seconds a small text bubble popped up as three dots bounced around. you were replying.

‘aww! are you sure? like, a 100% sure? i’m just making sure!! i just don’t wanna feel like i’m stealing from you, or something LOL!’

your text was cute, lighthearted, and warm, you were so considerate. he liked that, and his thumbs began to type out a reply.

‘no, no. it’s okay, really. just enjoy yourself.’

he replied he was trying his best to not seem uninterested. he has been told many times before that he was very “dry texter” — he had been told how uninterested he sounded with his texting habits and how it could make someone want to stop replying, and he didn’t want that. he just wasn’t sure what to say.

‘omg i am so grateful for your kindness! i’ve seen you in my streams a lot, i have honestly wondered about you. i’m glad you won the bid, tbh i wanted you to win LOL it gave me a reason to talk to you!’

oh my god. leon’s eyes widened slightly at your text, you were bold, is this how it feels like to get butterflies? he blinked, how was he supposed to reply? he’s never texted a girl in her twenties, what do girls like? what will keep you interested?

‘oh, yeah?’ he replied, reverting back to his usual dry texts, but you were lively, you knew how to keep the conversation going.

the conversation was sweet and lengthy, you ended up suggesting you move to your instagram messages so she could talk to him more often.

leon’s heart was practically going to explode out of his chest, he was giddy yet nervous. you had told him that you guys could arrange the video call for the next day at night after you finish some college work.

he was stressed, leon wasn’t sure what to expect. he’s seen your pretty face, but you haven’t seen his. his instagram profile is of an old landscape photo he took a while back, what if the camera isn’t flattering for him? he did warn you that he was in his late thirties? he didn’t want you to get your hopes up for a younger man. maybe he should just keep his camera off.

nonetheless, that night, he went to sleep happier than he has been in a while.

≻ the next day, leon was practically counting down the hours, the minutes, the seconds, until he got to see you. in the morning, he had been excited — the people around him noted his giddy attitude, but when asked why, he didn’t say anything.

he couldn’t expose himself.

but as the clock ticked and the hours passed by, leon found himself much more nervous than he’s ever been. he doesn’t want to fuck this up, in his delusion. he thinks that if this goes well, maybe, just maybe, this could evolve to something more.

you were so sweet to him last night, but the more he thinks about it, perhaps it was flattery.

he hadn’t thought about it now, this might just be all an act. something to keep him wrapped around your pinky finger, but he decided to push those thoughts down so he wouldn’t spoil his night.

once he reached his place, leon was angsty, the sun was slowly going down. the sky was a beautiful mix of warm colors: orange, red, and yellow. he could also see a hint of blue mixed in as the night sky began to slowly settle.

entering his apartment, he slipped inside the door and shut it behind him. locking it, a person could never be too safe, right?

he kicked off his shoes and slipped off his jacket, he haphazardly threw his jacket on his sofa before he made his way over to his room. he plopped down onto his bed and slipped his phone and flask out of his back pocket. opening the flask, he raised the metal container up to his lips and took in a quick shot of whiskey.

he couldn’t go into this sober.

letting the flask rest on his lap, he opened his phone and opened instagram. he looked at the messages he had with you. oh, he forgot to reply to your last message a few hours ago. he pursed his lips, fuck he feels bad, leon wasn’t an avid texter, so it was easy for him to forget.

‘sorry for the late reply, i was working.’ he hit send before he could register how “dry” that sounded, he quickly scrambled to text a bit more, so he didn’t seem too boring. ‘i’m nervous for the call.’

why would he say that?

leon shut his eyes, he was really bad at this.

after a few minutes of leon anxiously waiting for your reply, a ping came from his phone. quickly looking down at the screen, he saw that you replied.

‘aww, don’t be nervous! i don’t bite, unless you want me to ;)’

he let out a breath at your words, it felt like you always knew what to say, the number of times you’ve said something sly during the conversation that had his chest fuzzy must be over ten in the span of twenty-four hours.

leon started to type back, but he stopped mid-sentence. he wasn’t sure what to say, he was fumbling over his words, and no sentence he tried to type up made sense.

he saw your text bubble pop up, you were typing.

‘what? did i make you nervous? ;p’ — yes, yes you did.

he felt like he was in his early twenties, stumbling and stammering when a pretty girl gave him attention. jesus, has it really been that long since he’s felt something like this? god, that’s so sad.

leon ran his fingers through his hair, pushing his dark hair back, ‘yes, i don’t know how to behave when a pretty girl is talking to me.’ now it was your turn to blush, leon leaned against his headboard as he stared at his phone.

‘ohhh? is mr. kennedy getting bold? ;)) i’m excited for the call, just give me one more hour ♡’

‘take your time.’

during that hour, leon decided to try and freshen up, at least a bit. he knew he wasn’t going to turn on his camera, but maybe getting refreshed would make him feel more confident in himself.

he changed out of his work clothes and took a quick shower, he slipped on some comfortable sweatpants and a black compression shirt that he typically used when he was working out. as he looked at himself in the mirror, he noticed the eye bags that hung under his eyes and the stubble that covered his cheeks and chin.

moving his hand up to his face, he ran his fingers through his stubble and sighed as he felt the facial hair scratching his skin. should he have shaved this morning? he didn’t know, he hadn’t been bare-faced in a few years now, as he aged the clean look he used to have didn’t fit him anymore.

reaching over for his flask that he had left on the bathroom counter, leon quickly took another swing of his flask and then sighed as he put it back on his counter.

he was so fucking nervous and for what? he’s been face to face with death before, he’s encouraged over thousands of zombies in his lifetime and yet he’s so nervous at the idea of talking to you.

feeling his phone buzz in his pocket, leon scrambled to take it out before looking down at his screen. it was you.

‘okay! i’m ready, are you? ;)’ — no, he doesn’t think he’ll ever be, but he replied, ‘yes. how does this work?’ he replied, unsure of what you were planning.

he watched as the text bubble popped up from your end as you typed again, ‘its suuuper easy! i’ll set up a voice chat and send you the link, then i’ll turn my camera on so you can see me!’ biting his bottom lip, leon moved out of the bathroom and sat down in his bed, his back resting against the headboard as he stared down at his phone.

‘okay, i’ll wait for you.’ he replied as he tried to relax, letting out a deep sigh, leon shut his eyes for a few seconds before he felt his phone buzz again.

looking back at the screen, you had sent him a link.

‘here it is! ;)’ the text said, his thumb hovered over the screen as he bit the inside of his cheek and hesitated before quickly tapping the link. the link opened up another website, the same one you use for streams. it took a few seconds for it to load, but he could tell his camera was off and his mic was muted.

okay, good.

eventually, the screen loaded and he saw you, you were wearing a cute tank top of a band, he’s seen the band name around before. it was popular back in the early 2000s, you didn’t have any sexy clothes on, it was actually cute. it made you feel even more real.

“hi!” you said as you waved at the camera, “let me know if the camera and audio are working properly, sometimes the app gives me issues,” you said with a smile as you stared at your screen. leon went to open the chat box, but he realized that if he wanted to make the most out of this call, talking to you would better.

taking in a deep breath, he cleared his throat and unmuted his microphone. “..it works,” he said, his face feeling hot as he spoke.

leon had always been rather charming and talkative in real life, so why was he so shy? it wasn’t anything like him, did his loneliness really ruin him? your eyes lit up when you heard his voice, surprised he spoke.

he watched as a smile curled on your lips, “i’m glad!” you said, leaning in closer, giving leon a full view of your cleavage, he noticed a black lace bra underneath your shirt. tilting your head to the side, you hummed, “soo..how was your day?” you asked curiously as you stared up at the camera with a small smirk. leon hated how quick it was for him to feel pressure growing in his pants when it came to you.

why was it so easy to get hard for you?

“it was good..you?” he asked softly, his hand slipping down his body to grip his cock through his pants. your smirk turned into a smile, “my day was good too! thank you for asking,” you hummed, “so, what do you want to do?” you asked, leaning back against your chair as you moved your hand to hold your tit, squeezing the mound playfully. “it’s just you and me, no need to be shy.” you winked.

leon squirmed in his bed, “..i don’t know actually,” he muttered, “i never got to decide how i wanted to approach this.” he said, squeezing his bulge and sighing. “..i wanted to just talk and get you know you more, but..” he trailed off, unsure if he should tell you that his cock was hard at the mere sight of you.

you seemed to get the hint when you heard the shaky breath that left his lips, “got too excited, didn’t you?” you teased, biting your bottom lip as you batted your eyelashes to the camera. “it’s okay, let me help you.” you offered, that pretty smirk of yours coming back to your lips.

leon’s eyebrows furrowed as he felt his cock throb inside his pants.

“..a-are you sure? i don’t want to ruin the call.” leon murmured, his voice uneven as he tried to resist the urge to slip his hand under his pants' waistband.

a small laugh left your lips as you shook your head, “of course not,” she said playfully, “you won this call, you get to choose whatever we do.” you said, “what’s your name?” you asked, moving to press your arms together to have them push up your tits.

leon let out a sigh and watched with a hazy look in his eyes as you pressed your chest together. “it’s leon.” he replied quickly, now eager to have you say his name.

humming, you smiled, “okay, leon. should i take off my shirt? i have a new pair of lingerie just for you.” that whole sentence could’ve made leon cum right there without any friction. the way you said his name, it was smooth, like honey. you were hot and you knew it, “y-yes, please.” leon mumbled out pathetically as he stared at his screen intensely.

you nodded and reached down for the bottom of your shirt, slowly pulling it up and discarding your shirt to the corner of your room. once your shirt was removed, leon got an eye full of your tits being held up by the new lingerie, it was a push up bra. your tits were rounded and plush, the black lace that surrounded the fabric was real pretty.

“do you like it?” you asked softly as you adjusted your bra strap, leon gulped and shuddered. “yeah, it’s pretty..it suits you.” leon said, you were so fucking hot. he wanted to jack off and cum right there, but that would just show how much of a pathetic man he is.

you only took off your shirt and leon came? embarrassing.

so, he edged himself. deciding to play it safe with palming himself through his pants. his hand moving slowly to not get too eager and fuck it up.

“you think so?” you mused, looking at the camera as your hands moved to squeeze your tits and push them closer. fondling yourself for his pleasure.

leon groaned and nodded, he knew his camera was off and that you couldn’t see it, but he couldn’t help it. “mhm, black suits you.” he said, shifting in his bed to adjust his position. “want me to take it off?” you asked curiously, looking at the camera with an amused smile. “i think my tits are pretty, it would only be fair for you to see.” you teased as you squeezed your mounds.

leon’s throat felt dry, he felt parched.

“yes,” leon shuddered out, looking down at the screen. you laughed and stood up, you adjusted your camera for it to catch your body as you stood. leon saw you were only wearing some cute little panties that brought out your ass.

turning around, your back faced the camera before you moved your hair out of the way and moved your hands to the clasps of your bra.

you were quick to unclip your bra and take it off, throwing it off to the side, to a place the camera can’t pick up. by where you threw your shirt, leon assumed. your movements were always so smooth, hypnotic almost. leon was convinced you were perfect, made with no flaws.

turning around, you held your tits up in your hands before you stepped closer and let your mounds drop. leon got a screen full of tits, you let out a laugh and moved your body in a slow sway, your tits moving around as you did so. “like ‘em?” you mused playfully before reaching up and squeezing your nipple.

leon’s head leaned back as a small groan left his lips, his hand moving down to grip his dick through his pants. “yes, fuck.” leon said with a pant.

you moved back from the camera and sat down onto your chair before adjusting the camera stand so leon could see you better.

“are you jerking off?” you asked, smirking at the lens, leon let out a small whine. “no, n-not yet.” he mumbled, his voice straining as he tried to sound level headed, but of course it didn’t work given how he stuttered. leon cursed at himself mentally, he sounds like a fucking pussy right now.

you let out a small laugh at his stutters, “what? you don’t wanna jerk off to me? you’re hurting my feelings.” you said softly as she tilted your head, leon’s eyes widened. oh shit, no, that’s not what he wanted to do.

“wait, shit—“ he tried to explain, “i didn’t mean it like that..i just want to savor the moment.” he said, shutting his eyes in embarrassment.

you smiled, “yeah? why not savor it while jerking off? i have my tits out just for you.” you teased, pouting as you did so. leon paused, you were right, your tits were out and you were willing to do anything for him and he was just edging himself?

a small groan left his lips, “yeah..okay.” he mumbled, his hand slipping under the waistband of his pants before he gripped his cock. his large hand wrapped around his shaft, his cock throbbing again due to the pressure, leon put his phone down and used his other hand to shimmy his pants down. once the waistband was wrapped around his knees, leon leaned back against the headboard and sighed as he gripped his dick.

reaching out for his phone, leon fumbled with it with one hand before finding the right position to hold it. unbeknownst to him, while he fumbled with the phone, he had pressed against the camera button.

his camera turned on and he had no idea.

you, on the other hand, were met with the sight of the mystery man that had been supporting you the most.

he was hot.

like really fucking hot, your interest on this man peaked after you saw his pretty face. he was resting his phone on his thigh was he held it up, you could see the stubble on his face, his dark black hair. he was older than you expected, but if anything it added to the appeal.

this man seemed to be seasoned, he was staring down at his phone with his eyebrows furrowed as a small sigh of bliss left his lips. he was jerking his cock, you noticed by the way his body moved, there was an arm that wasn’t getting picked up by the camera that worked on rubbing his cock raw.

you noticed how his icy blue eyes focused on you, staring at the screen of his phone with a lovesick look on his face.

he looked so pathetically hot, it wasn’t something you thought you’d find attractive, but seeing how desperate this older man was for you made you unbelievably horny. you squirmed in your seat before your hand slipped down, you moved and slipped your hand under the fabric of your panties. letting out a sigh, you felt your middle finger gently toy your clit.

“leon?” you mused, leaning your head back and spreading your legs for the camera to pick up how your hand was shoved under your panties. you reached over to your desk and grabbed a dildo, showing it to him. “wanna watch?” you offered, moving the silicone cock in a playful manner.

leon’s eyes widened in surprise, but nodded.

he gulped and you watched as his adam’s apple bopped up with the swallow.

leon watched as you slipped off your panties and grabbed a bottle of lube. you quickly coated your pretty pussy and dildo with the thick cream and leaned back once more.

your pussy was on full display as you pressed the tip of the dildo against your puffy folds. “ready?” you asked softly as you bit your bottom lip.

this whole scene that was unfolding in front of leon felt like it was going to kill him. he’s seen your pussy before, he’s seen you fuck yourself before, but there was something different this time. it was all dedicated to him.

only him.

“yes,” he shuddered as he gripped his cock tightly, you smiled at him and slowly slipped the dildo inside of you. a soft sigh left your lips as your warm pussy sucked in the silicone, leon watched eagerly. like a kid in a candy store, he would kill to be the one inside you.

your squirmed and rolled your hips against the dildo, looking into the camera as your free hand moved to grip your tit. “oh, leon.” you moaned out, smirking as you watched your screen to see his reaction. “you feel so good..” you teased.

leon’s eyes widened when he heard you moan out his name, were you pretending it was him fucking you? did you want to send his heart into cardiac arrest?

this cock throbbed against his hand, begging for attention, pleading for leon to let it cum.

leon’s balls were heavy with cum, it was unbearable to keep teasing, but he couldn’t help it.

a small whine left leon’s lips as he slowly stroked his cock, watching as you fucked yourself with your dildo. “you think so?” leon replied back, his face felt hot as he spoke, he’s never done dirty talk through the phone. he was embarrassed, was he doing it right?

you nodded, smiling hazily at the camera, “mhm..” you trailed off as a small gasp left your lips, the dildo focused on fucking your pussy. your eyes fluttered shut as you savored the filling feeling of your dildo, the silicone ridges and fake veins pressing and molding your walls. your pace was steady, your head leaning to the side as you continued.

leon was getting the perfect view of your pretty face and your stuffed cunt. he could hear the soft squelches coming from your cunt as it sucked the dildo back inside eagerly. he watched as your pussy glistened with slick, his body aching, he wanted to be there with you. he wanted to feel you.

but the world was cruel towards leon, and all he could do is watch and pretend he was the one fucking you.

“you’re so big.” you babbled softly, watching your computer screen, watching his reaction. he shuddered and trembled, moving on his cock slowly.

leon shut his eyes and grunted, his head leaning back desperately as his body ached. he occasionally looked back at the screen, looking at you with such admiration behind his gaze. like he was admiring a beautiful painting.

he was so cute.

“y-yeah,” he groaned, his body feeling hot, it was overwhelming. he felt the thinnest sheet of sweat coat his body, a swirling feeling coming to his lower tummy, it felt like a tight pressure. “—am i making you feel good?” he whispered out, his eyes shutting as his hand continued to jerk his cock.

each jerk felt like a rush of electricity went through his veins, an electric shockwave whose only purpose was to bring pleasure.

you moved your hand down and gently began to toy with your clit, pressing on the puffy bud as you fucked yourself. “no one has ever made me feel like this, leon.” you teased, moaning out his name softly. it was like music to his ears.

he couldn’t take it anymore, he physically couldn’t hold back, he should’ve gotten a cock ring to try and make him last longer.

“m’gonna cum, i’m sorry—“ he babbled, feeling bad for cumming so fast, he just didn’t have the self control he used to have on his prime. his hand began to jerk his cock in a fast, sloppy pace. his chest was rising and falling rather quickly, unable to catch his breath as he chased his orgasm.

leon moved his phone, he kept it by his lap, but by the position you could see his aching cock.

“it’s okay, baby.” you mumbled out, watching as he neared his orgasm. his dick was pretty, the size was okay, the thickness was there, and his tip was bright red. his hand gripped his shaft, he had pretty hands. large and masculine, you even saw an expensive watch wrapped around his wrist. you knew he had money, how else would he be sending you such high donations, but something in your stomach fluttered when you noticed.

you continued to fuck your dildo into your pussy, trying to match his sloppy pace. “cum for me.” you hummed, your tone playful and laced with lust.

this was so hot.

leon shuddered and moaned, his hand continued to rub his cock raw, he clenched his jaw and shut his eyes tightly as he focused on cumming.

the pressure in his lower belly was so tight, but after a couple of more harsh jerks, the tight knot inside his stomach burst. his balls strained and tightened as cum began to spurt out of his tip. it was thick and milky, staining leon’s stomach and hand.

while he came, leon’s body trembled, his toes curled, and his back arched slightly as a loud moan left his lips. he didn’t mean to moan out like that, but with the circumstances he couldn’t help it. this was pure bliss, his body felt lighter and his head felt fuzzy. he continued to slowly stroke his cock as it throbbed, he rode out his orgasm, his cum still spewing out of his cock for a few more seconds before his body relaxed.

leon shuddered as his cock began to go soft in his hand, he grimaced as he looked at the cum that stained his hand before wiping it off against his sweats.

panting, leon looked back at his phone, his face was red and his whole body was hot.

“shit, i’m sorry, i wanted to wait for you.” leon said breathlessly, you shut your eyes and continued to toy with your clit as you shook your head. “don’t apologize, it was really hot.” you moaned out, fluttering your eyes open as you looked at the monitor, eyeing him up as he laid back panting.

your clit was puffy and slick, aching for more.

rolling your hips up, your hands continue to work against your cunt, making your legs twitch and tremble. putting on a show for the lonely man in front of you.

biting the inside of his cheek, leon watched desperately, if he was younger he probably would’ve gotten hard again as he watched, but his cock didn’t have enough strength to stand. it didn’t matter, now leon could finally appreciate you, your pretty face, your pretty body, and your pretty pussy.

he loved the faces you made, they were so genuine.

if he was fucking you, would you be making those faces too? god he hoped so.

by now, a specific heat blossomed by your clit as your finger toyed with it. your touch was gentle and light, it felt like your clit was burning in the hottest way as the nerves went on overdrive.

“fuck, fuck, fuck—“ you whined, your voice strained as you focused on breaking the tight knot inside your lower tummy.

leon shuddered, seeing the way your eyebrows furrowed as you bit your bottom lip, you were so cute. leon wanted to say something, but it was like his brain was a blank slate. he couldn’t think, he couldn’t speak, he just watched as your glistening pussy throb.

it didn’t take long for the knot to snap, and once it did, your body jolted as a loud whine of his name left your lips. your thighs clamped together while your hand stayed pressed between your legs, the silicone cock was nestled nicely inside you, warm and sticky.

your body trembled as you panted, your head leaning back against the seat as you regained your thoughts.

god.

leon has seen you cum various times before, sure, but there’s something so different about it here. it was mind boggling and his head felt dizzy, a shiver going down his spine.

this was all a private show, all of this was only for him. no one else was as lucky as he was, he felt like he was getting spoiled.

watching you unravel and cry out his name had leon’s brain oozing, he felt demented, like his brain had melted and he was left as a zombie. he could tilt his head over right now and watch as his melted brain would come spilling out.

metaphorically, of course.

you reveled in the afterglow of your climax, your pussy felt like it was pulsating and throbbing. slowly, your hazy gaze focused back on the screen and you locked eyes with leon.

he let out a breath as he looked at you, it felt like you were really looking into his eyes.

he still had no idea his camera was on and you could see how enamored he looked.

slowly, with a long, soft squelch, you pulled the dildo out of your sticky pussy. you moved the silicone up to your lips and leaned in closer to the camera before you licked off the slick that coated the toy.

your tongue moved slowly, and occasionally you would glance at the camera, making eye contact with him as you cleaned up your dildo and the only thing that ran through leon’s head as he watched was: i wish that was me.

squirming, leon felt like his mouth was salivating at the sight.

eventually, you finished licking off your dildo before you placed a gentle kiss on its head before you put it away, hidden away from what the camera could pick up. “liked that?” you mused, tilting your head to the side with a cute little smile. it was almost funny how cute you looked after you fucked yourself in front of him.

“yeah.” leon said quickly, gulping back saliva as he looked at you so dearly, “um,” he began, clearing his throat awkwardly, “..is it okay to talk more? if you have the time.” leon mumbled, because deep down, he still wanted to talk to you — to carry a conversation with you, to try and charm you.

looking at the time displayed on your monitor, you hummed, drawing it out to tease him slightly. after a few seconds that felt like an eternity for leon, you looked back at the camera and nodded. “of course, i have time.” you said, winking at the camera before you stood up and slipped your panties on. you left the chair for a second before you picked up your band shirt off the floor and slipped it on.

plopping back down on the chair, you smiled and looked back at the camera.

“so, tell me more about you, leon.”

≻ the call ended not too long ago, leon rested his phone down on his bed as he let out a sigh and rubbed his forehead. his chest felt fuzzy and he felt giddy.

the two of you had spoke for a few hours and now that the call ended, leon yearned to hear your voice again.

he felt silly like this, but he couldn’t help it.

he missed your voice, your face, the way you moved your hands when you spoke, the small gestures you made when you talked about something you were passionate about.

he missed you.

reaching over for his flask, leon quickly popped it open and took another long swig. swallowing back his beloved whiskey like he was a dehydrated man drinking water, throughout the call, he hadn’t drank to try and not get drunk and ruin the moment. but now that the call ended and he had time, leon was happily swallowing back the whiskey.

hearing his phone buzz against his bed sheets, he reached out for it quickly, a swirl of excitement coming to him as he saw it was you that texted.

it was two attachments, a photo of your perky tits and another one of your computer screen — that’s where he saw it. he was on the screen.

the photo you had taken was when he had his phone down, getting a good angle of his side profile from the bottom. for the eyes of someone else, it was a good picture and he looked good. his hair was messy in just the right way, his adam’s apple was on display and given the fact his phone was down, the picture also captured his waist, chest, and shoulders. showing off his body underneath the shirt he wore.

it was a good photo, but leon’s heart dropped to the floor when he saw it.

had his camera been on the whole time? is that why there was a small red dot next to his selfie camera? clicking out of the photos, he read your text nervously, but after reading it, his face flushed.

taking back another swing of his flask, he shuddered.

‘you looked really good today ;)) wanna call again tomorrow? <3’

╰ TAGS: @gor3-hound @rigorwhoring @nilpill @ottermarbles @argreion @angelstargel @lysa1201-saucy @dilfsmaid @sweets3rial @doja-rat16 @bababsthings @frillyyyy @nyxxoxo @admirxation @gcldtom @ashrillvenheim @seraphicsuicides @altissia-09 @ghostier0t @biohazard-4ever @leonsgirl-111 @th3lma @squazmine @dakotali @neverg0nnagivey0uup @brblnc @emodanoriddler @v1ccc @dear-satan @skydisneylover @calansic @acidaciruela @vkurtmien @shiawaseorii @fxnfandxmmp4 @valentin78pon @antagonize-me-motherfucker

[moonsaver]

Okay, honestly, I'm still reeling from the entire penacony quest, but here's my take on Sunday so far;

He's manipulative, obviously.

But like.. the type that's kind of hesitant from time to time because he's still sincere to a degree. At least, when it comes to his loved ones.

So, I guess that hesitance decreases a lot if you're just some nobody. Even then, Sunday does want the better for everyone, too. It just means that others may bear the brunt of it for the most part before being able to get ahold of it.

Also, at the very least, even if some people suffer, at the end Sunday believes they will reach where they want to, after. In that case, however, Sunday suffers far more than them, without actually ever reaching his own destination or idea of paradise.

However, this view is a bit distorted. Sunday believes to be "sacrificing" himself, shouldering loneliness and burdens in order to uphold everyone else's "paradise". But to the others, he's simply a tyrant overruling everyone's will with his own idea of Order.

Sunday deeply cares. He cares too much. That's kind of the problem.

A bit of self-destructing tendencies when pushed too far, I guess.

Lets ignore logic established by the quest for a second (because i literally am still reeling from it)

Imagine Sunday first discovers this possibility. He's terrified of it, but at the same time, he truly thinks this is humanity's salvage – for everyone who has deeply suffered. He thinks of you.

You who have had your fair share of pain, who confides in him late at night in the quiet of your privacy, hushed voices like silenced by a thick blanket through the wall.

You deserve to live a sweeter life. He thinks. No. You deserve more. He knows.

The first person he ever wants to step into this paradise – you.

Now, although Sunday was defeated in the end, we all know that unfortunately, our ragtag team had to wake up again because defeating him first was a dream. This means at some point, Sunday did succeed.

And after everyone wakes, you don't. You continue sleeping soundly. So does Sunday.

The rest of the world can return to their miserable, bitter lives outside of this dream; but Sunday will be damned if he's letting you go. Perhaps.. it's not a selfless wish, anymore. Perhaps at this point, Sunday desperately, selfishly, grips onto you with the latches of a sweet, deep dream. One where he was fatally destined to never reach, only to control from the waking world. Now that everyone else has woken, he wants to return to the dream. He wants to return to you, who he has so lovingly entrenched deep into it.

Also, Robin. Im in SO much pain... PLEASW..

Do you guys think.. even if Robin was vehemently resistant against Sunday's ideas..

Even though Sunday knew she wouldn't stand for it..

Do you guys think.. he wanted her to also join him at the end and enjoy the "Paradise" he created aswell?

Do you think he would have wanted Robin to stop worrying about everything, to take rest, to finally come home, and sing to her heart's content inside the dream? The dream where they set the bird free? The dream where Sunday still has a sweet tooth? The dream where she never has to wear elaborate neck-pieces? The dream where neither of them was hurt? Where neither of them left each other?

Oh...ogh. . My heart.

Sunday would be such a scary lover, too.

I mean even normally, I don't think a relationship with him would be that healthy

Particularly because it seems so healthy

If reader was in a relationship with normal sunday, I mean.. it's gonna at least appear healthy and normal, even to them. It's probably just Sunday having to constantly burden himself with all the dirty strings he has to pull, the quiet rush of water when he washes his hands before caressing the side of your face, the tight, closed smile he would give if you ever asked him what was wrong.. he can't let you know.

I think he'll take a yandere route in an established relationship if you do happen to find out what's been going on behind the scenes. He'll have to calm you down, and you promise you won't peep about it. The build up is almost invisible, because things seem to go back to the way they were. Before Sunday starts acting a bit.. restless. That would be when his yan! Tendencies would start kicking in, for a variety of reasons.

I feel like y'know, out of all the hsr cast, he's one of the characters who is genuinely very close to becoming a yandere canonically. Control freak? Check. Twisted ideals? Check. Unchecked power? Check. Hypnotization/manipulation? Check.

Also, the slight difference of his color pallete as opposed to Robin's.

His is much more washes out than Robin's. It's more "duller" but also more professional, and the gold of his halo is more colder than the warmer tone of Robin's halo. They both still have white/grey as a major color in their palletes, but Sunday's is accompanied by deep navy blues, or washed out blues. Robin's is very vibrant and purple. The only blue segment of her pallete is her hair, and it's remarkably more vibrant than Sunday's.

Also.. Sunday's whole ideas on "weak" and "strong"

Of course, it wasn't all correct, but that doesn't mean they didn't hold some semblance of sense.

Regardless, this playing with yan! Tendencies..... HOOOOO boy

So many thoughts. Sunday manipulating his partner is quite possibly the most common theme in them.

[yandere-yearnings]

Know Me Like the Devil Knows My Sins (Loser!Yandere x GN!Reader)

feat. genie's loser yan

♡ oneshot, approx. 1.5k words

♡ post-specific warnings: yandere themes, implied kidnapping, violence, strangulation, implied death

♡ a/n: thank you to @moyazaika for letting me write abt his oc, loser yan!! genie, if you read this, pls ignore the fact that my characterisation sucks ass. this was over 3k but i went back and cut out the waffle bc there was a lot of it lmao, so ig it's technically edited, but not proofread.

♡♡♡

This basement was cold. 

Heated blankets and warm meals, however many times a day they were brought to you, didn’t change much. No windows or light for even a semblance of passing time, all you had was the annoying draft that skimmed through the door at the top of the staircase — the one you weren’t allowed near. You wouldn’t have been able to escape even if you wanted to, not with the chain around your ankle. For as free as he tried to make you feel, the heavy metal was a constant reminder that there was no liberty in his love, if it could even be called that.

You were waiting for his return, less because you wanted to and more because it was the only thing you could do other than read the books he’d given you. They were all your favourites, from the stories your mother used to read you as a child to the ones you’d pick up on your way home when you’d grown up. At first, you’d found the thoughtfulness of it endearing, feeling seen and understood and catered to. Somewhere, kept within his walls, you didn’t blame yourself for becoming as delusional as he was.

How could you enjoy anything anymore, with no one to share it with?

Each new day that passed, every page you would read and read again, only accomplished you in realising the loneliness that coiled around you. Second by second, growing larger than your life had been before this. Soon, your loved ones would stop looking for you. Soon, you’d be considered dead — and in death you would be all his. You knew that was what he wanted.

You had made yourself comfortable on the vulnerabilities he presented to you, in the way he shook when your fingers stroked his skin, his shudders at your calling his name. That was all too good to be true. If you had actual control in this, he’d have surrendered to you long ago. You’d been testing it. Playing mind games, pushing limits — he’d shut you down quick, then cover the shrewdness in his eyes with a bashful smile. You were no fool, and clearly he wasn’t either.

Your bitterness surmounted with the echoing of locks clicking open. There wasn’t a need for as many as he had placed to keep you here, you weren’t sure you could even run anymore. You hadn’t used your legs in so long. He’d surely catch you. He’d rip your throat out like he did in your nightmares. You had no faith you wouldn’t become another layer of red on the white paint surrounding. Perhaps you should’ve been thankful, if fear were to be a knife, he’d certainly dulled it for you — slinking in, shoulders slumped and looking as meek as ever. Really, from the first glance, he didn’t look like he could hurt a fly.

“Darling…” there was that tone, demure, like you could do anything to hurt him from your place on this filthy mattress, your place on the floor as he stood above you. Towering. This entire thing felt like a sick joke. You’d once considered there being a chance for you. Hope crumbled just like he did, to his knees to look into your eyes. “I missed you so much today, my love.”

You blinked at him. You knew where this was going.

“I mean- I miss you every day, don’t get me wrong!” Sheepish laughter, twitching fingers — all signs of his wanting your validation. “I just… I couldn’t stop thinking about you, not at all. Work has been so hard, and you’re the only thing I can look forward to truly and- and I really, really wanted to come back home quickly and ask if you’d...”

His sentence trailed off, and it took all you had to suppress the urge to roll your eyes. He wasn’t very creative, that much was obvious. You’d initially chalked it up to some cute sort of performance anxiety that he experienced because he wanted to come off as appealing to you. Now, it had begun to dawn on you that he was simply struggling to keep up the pathetics. As you curled your digits into his hair, as you tugged him closer and let him muffle his weak moan into your neck, you wondered why either of you were bothering anymore. No audience except for the earwigs that crawled about, no one who’d watch this stupid, repetitive show.

“I’ll hold you,” you whispered, tired enough that even your dishonesty could be mistaken as gentle. “I’ll hold your heart. Don’t worry. I know.”

You could feel his lips on your skin, chapped, scraping where he tried to formulate words. You were sure he too felt this warring between the both of you, this constant fight, teasing superiority, challenging who would take the reigns in this sombre dance. Bored out of your mind, anticipating when he’d get tired of you — but you were his infatuation so that could never happen.

“Not enough about me,” he breathed, “my sweetheart, my entire world, you wouldn’t know what I’ve done for you.” His hands dug into your waist where they rested, gripping flesh over fabric like it would give him warmth. It wouldn’t, because it was freezing in here.

“Won’t you tell me?”

Quiet laughter. “You’d be scared if I did.”

“I already am.” Your words made him pull away, made him peer at you with those eyes. You held his gaze. “I already am afraid of you. I already know who you are. Tell me anyway, since-”

“Since you love me.” He interrupted you, finished your sentence with words you had not been planning to utter. He didn’t say it tentatively enough; gave himself away with that and the severe expression on his face that his hair did not hide. It was a shame that now wasn’t one of your better days, lest you’d have heeded the silent warning.

“Since I can’t leave,” you corrected. No energy for even a single ounce of regret, none to even whimper at the violent pressure of his grip on your collarbones.

Sometimes, he’d come to you with blood caked under his fingernails. Sitting there like he was sinless, mouth running for hours about you in every way he could. All your likes and dislikes, all your habits, all your life — as if you didn’t know yourself. Again, those lips were moving, spitting at you like it could quell the anger you could see bubbling beneath the surface.

Your perfect person, he spilled descriptions like the ideals you once had were his intimate study, asking you why. Why wasn’t he enough even though he’s everything you’d ever wanted? When he’d made sure of it? Your chance to answer was taken by lithe fingers on your neck, but if you could, you’d have told him that at its core, it was just that every desire you had, looked like something disgusting on him.

“Sweetheart, this isn’t like you, c’mon,” his words came ringing, buzzing, an entire choir of metal scraping metal underwater, your world spinning and head pressed back into the mattress too fast to stop him from climbing on top of you, “don’t deny your feelings for me.”

Your eyes rolled back and his hold on you only loosened a fraction. Staring at the dark inside your own skull, gasping breaths through bruised tissue. You thought you heard knocking, and surely it’d be death at your door if you didn’t backtrack now, didn’t tell him what he wanted to hear, like you had been until you’d lost yourself in your own lies.

Survival instinct should’ve kicked in, but then sight and sound returned to you, and you accepted that you wouldn’t be the hero in your story. You’d get yourself killed, yet, how could you love a man that loomed over you with eyes on fire? He’d burn you up to make it through the winter, and find another once your ashes were blown away.

Even if it made you a villain, drowning in the blood pooling from your ears, you owed yourself your last rasp to him. “I hate you,” broken and choked on tears cutting through the numbness. Your nails clawing everywhere you could reach, on this bed of springs that felt nothing like the one you so desperately wanted to return to, you mourned all you were losing. 

Limbs going numb — salt — you’d never see home again.

When under constant observation, there’s only so much one can conceal about themselves. He knew that well. From the pictures of you in his gallery and the endless notes with your name repeated over and over and over — he’d chosen to obsess, and you were forced to, and you became his mirror the longer he kept you. Going mad, crazy, insane because his was the only face you could remember anymore.

You knew his moods from his scent and his needs from his touch, you knew him to the heart of the blank slate he’d always been, you knew him rooted carnally to you because it was the only thing grounding him. He hadn’t needed to tell you anything really, and you didn’t need to push. You knew him like the devil knew his sins.

And he’d take you to hell for it.

[akutasoda]

* ☆ my heart's wish, a lover's gift

╰➜ wriothesley x reader

synopsis - it was, a humble wish. but sometimes they mean the world when they come true

warnings - gn!reader, fluff, small teensy bits of angst, maybe a tad ooc, probably the most cliche thing i'll ever write, wc - 2.5k

a/n: this is my secret santa fic dedicated to the one and only, super amazing sunni @scribs-dibs which i totally didn't rewrite completely with 5 days before the deadline... ahem- hope you enjoy this sunni!! im wishing you the absolute best and more, happy holidays :)

it was always a commonly known fact that wriothesley was always quite the busy man.

he spent most of his time down in the fortress. it was his job after all. although ever since you came into his life, wriothesley did try and spend more time away from the damp depths of the fortress - but when that wasn't entirely possible you could always count on letters back to you or even taking the initiative and visiting him yourself.

even during the holidays wriothesley was still required to be at the fortress, to nobody's surprise. he didn't exactly have the most flexible schedule and definitely didn't have defined holidays or even days off. so you weren't that disappointed to find out that he wouldn't have the winter holidays off as you expected that to be the case.

although that still didn't take the sting of realisation away. even a simple walk down the streets of fontaine could be a painful reminder of how little you saw the man you cherished so. seeing most people smiling and interlocking arms with their spouses or even simply being with their friends was a reminder painful enough to bubble that bitter feeling of loneliness back to the front of your mind.

even being home didn't help very much - opening the door to you and wriothesley's shared abode just to be greeted with silence was always a cold reminder as to where your lover was most of the time, at least the fortress was livelier than the lone rooms of the abode.

you often found solace in the fact that you knew that wriothesley would rather be spending his time with you. but the simple truth was that you loved him and he loved you, so you bore the cold isolation until he returned once more as you knew it would be worth the wait.

but was it really so much of an absurd wish for him to be home a bit more?

it was christmas eve.

the final chills of winter were more evident than ever, promising a few more days of sheer cold. but your day had been its same monotonous routine. a couple of errands had been run and companions of yours had been met - namely as most would be busy the following day.

but you were running out of things to do, ways to distract yourself. a part of you wondered if you could ever get someone to give wriothesley time off, although you had simply no clue on who would even be responsible for something like that

the streets of fontaine had never looked prettier. at least it was a pleasant sight while you wallowed in your own thoughts and dejection.

“may i ask what's weighing on your mind?” the calm, rather distant, voice served to startle you and scurry your thoughts away.

you looked to find neuvillette walking closer to you until he stood beside you, a quizzical yet composed look on his face.

your gaze became slightly downcast and you shook your head in an attempt to send a silent, unspoken, signal of “don't worry about me” before you looked up at him to finally verbalise something, something unrelated to his previous question

"what brings you out here at this time? surely you're quite busy?” and your assumption would be correct, it was barely the evening and so from what you remembered, neuvillette would most likely still be occupied with some kind of work

he let a small reassuring smile grace his face before briefly explaining something about having a break and taking a moment for himself

before he stopped briefly before continuing on a rather different train of thought, “apologies i digress from my true intentions, i'm here specifically to give you a message”

now it was your turn to be confused, “me? from who and what about?”

“i'm afraid it isn't that kind of message, as they only asked for me to ask you to meet them here” neuvillette hummed as he handed you a rather scruffy note

you read it's contents and something was itching at the back of your brain, you knew that handwriting. it looked so familiar yet you couldn't place exactly who it would've belonged to - perhaps your mind was too occupied to think clearly.

a brief thank you and a bid farewell was exchanged between the both of you as you began to make your way to the location. a million and one thoughts raced through your mind as to who would've wanted to see you right now, or even simply who.

it didn't take long at all for the named destination to be reached, neither did it take long for you to start thinking it was some kind of joke as it appeared nobody was there. maybe you were early? neuvillette wasn't exactly the kind to get himself caught up in jokes or pranks.. in your eyes anyway.

you looked down to the piece of paper again, rereading those same words, the handwriting still so painfully familiar yet completely lost on you as to who the owner was.

you flipped it over to see if you missed anything but the blank space led to that idea being quickly shut down. looking up again, you scouted the area to see if anyone was in the distance at least but yet again being greeted by the streets being bathed in an eerie silence, devoid of life.

a few minutes had passed since you arrived, it was cold and the evening certainly wasn't getting any earlier, so you decided that if this person didn't show up in the next couple of minutes you would just go home and confront neuvillette tomorrow. hopefully getting him to tell you who gave him the note and told him to deliver it.

just as you sighed to yourself, you heard footsteps approaching. looking around yet again, you managed to quickly deduce just where they were coming from - mainly by the distant shadow shrouded figure that was heading in your direction.

your eyes narrowed, attempting to try and deduce who it was and you swore from the figures stature and outline that you knew who it was immediately. but it couldn't be no? he would've told you if he had finally been granted time off.

your train of thought, and even slight bewilderment, was very quickly cut off when the figure got close enough for you to start distinguishing features.

features that undoubtedly belonged to your lover, the very same who you were not expecting to see anytime soon.

it took all your strength not to practically run and throw yourself at him - and judging from the way he stopped briefly before picking up the pace, nearly breaking out into a jog, wriothesley was fighting a similar battle.

although, he was losing his. as soon as wriothesley was in a reasonable range of you, he virtually tackled you into a hug. knocking you off balance to the point you would've fallen over should he have not been holding you.

wriothesley quickly had one arm around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to his chest as his over arm worked its way up to allow him to place it over your shoulder, holding the base of your neck. at this point he was practically squishing you, but for now you couldn't care less.

you began to relax into his grip, slowly beginning to attempt to wrap your arms around his frame. it was almost as if the bitter cold of winter was long forgotten and the evening could slip away freely as for right now, all that mattered was that wriothesley was here. in your arms, embracing you after so long.

although it was only a matter of time before you started questioning why he was here. it wasnt that you didn't want him here, if anything it was the exact opposite but

it was simply the fact that you kind of expected him to not have the time to be with you anytime soon.

he pulled away first, it wasn't as if you had the option to anyway with his bear grip making it near impossible, but he brought your hands into each of his as he did so, holding them low. almost as if he couldn't believe himself that he was actually with you.

wriothesley could see your slightly confused expression and he could take quite the accurate guess as to what was the cause of your confusion. so he soon broke the air of silence between you

“you didn't really think i'd let you spend the season alone, did you?” his expression was one that was somewhere between a smug smile and genuine slight amusement that stemmed partly from his curiosity.

the obvious answer was yes.

you knew he wouldn't have done so intentionally, but it was pretty much expected that wriothesley was always more likely to be stuck deep in the depths of the fortress rather than in the comfort of your shared abode. so you hadn't expected him to be around, and even the mere thought of him having the holiday off seemed like wishful thinking on your end.

and he hadn't exactly told you otherwise at any point prior.

slowly, and slightly embarrassingly, you shook your head no and he let out a small awkward laugh

he smiled, “i don't blame you, even i only knew a couple of hours ago after i managed to fight my way into gaining these next couple days due to-”

his reasoning was soon lost to you.

rather admittedly, you couldn't actually care less about how or why he was granted a holiday and you definitely wouldn't question it in risk of jinxing him, somehow causing him to lose it and then he would end up going back to the fortress.

wriothesley quickly clocked your lack of interest in his reasoning and shook his head subtly, stopping his explanation which was losing its point by the second in honesty.

“nevermind, all that matters is that i'm here now and able to spend my time with you”

and with that, wriothesley gave you a smile, “so, how about we head home now yeah? it certainly isn't getting lighter”

you nodded.

wriothesley let go of both your hands, walking away in the direction of your shared home with you by his side. but it barely took a minute before he interlocked his fingers with yours on the side that was between you both.

he raised your hand in his slightly, “how about we stay like this for the journey? wouldn't want your hands to get cold now would we?” he smirked slightly at seeing you practically stare at him in disbelief.

all of sudden, the streets of fontaine seemed all the more brighter and livelier - despite actually having less people in them.

the lights twinkled brighter, illuminating a soft glow onto wriothesley's features as he talked to you about whatever was on his mind, namely what you both could do tomorrow with his day off.

you couldn't help but stare shamelessly at the joy evident on his face - something that was caused by the fact that he was thrilled to be able to simply spend time with you.

the walk home felt unreasonably quick, perhaps you were simply longing for more small moments like that wishing that they never ended - even if the end goal was back at home, with wriothesley by your side which only meant more time with him in retrospect.

upon opening the door, your shared abode feeling warmer and happier despite nothing actually physically being changed.

wriothesley stayed glued to your hip at all times. barely sparing you a minute to yourself but it wasn't as if you minded that much. he followed you like a lost puppy as you went about whatever you had to do, occasionally, and very regretfully, he would part from you to do his own thing before sprinting back to you.

and before you both started getting ready to turn in for the night, he turned to you, smiling softly as he brought you in for a kiss - one that held many apologies from his end but still carried the same warm feeling of affection, almost as if it was a promise.

a silent vow to you - one that pledged that no matter what, he would always hold an unmatched love for you and how he would always return to your embrace wherever it may be as that was his home.

you awoke the next morning, in your grogginess you could swear last night was a dream. some kind of wishful thinking to keep your mind occupied from a bitter reality. fortunately, it wasn't.

it would be hard to believe it was when you could feel wriothesley clinging onto you like some overgrown puppy, almost as if he was too scared to let go of you for his own fear of it being a dream as well.

but it was in fact a welcome reality, as opposed to the one you were more acquainted with of waking up to a usual half empty bed that was always stone cold to the touch.

he stirred when you did, pulling you even closer toward him, a silent plea for you to allow him to indulge in the gentle warmth that was provided by the air of laziness that was still very much present in the morning air. and who were you to reject him?

and to sweeten the deal, wriothesley began peppering your face in gentle kisses. opening his eyes ever so slightly and giving you a syrupy warm smile that was infectious - his messy bed hair making him all the more charming, evidence that this was one of the best rests he'd had in a long time.

it was this domesticity that you both craved.

the snugness of having small moments like this to give the reminder of what kept you two together. love so much more present in these times. just the two of you, in your shared house, not even doing anything, but it was more than enough.

you both could bare those bitter droughts of being away from one another if it meant that this was always what you two could return too and treasure.

truly all you could ever wish for was wriothesley back home in your arms - and he would do anything to fulfil that wish.

[clericofgale]

Spoilers for Patch 5 and the whole game.

I posted my thoughts about the new ending Gale got in patch 5 on Reddit first, but I might as well post it here with some revisions. I'll say it, I love the god Gale ending. But it is NOT his good ending to me. Before I would never have pursued it, but now it is tantalizing to say the least. I'm into it though Gale the mortal is still my preference.

"Gale Dekarios cuts a poor figure next to the wizarding prowess of 'Gale of Waterdeep. You like so many things about me I'd have sooner discarded…"

By ascending Gale, you are killing Gale Dekarios. The nerd that hits on you in front of everyone while you're covered in zombie blood, procced to infodump an entire tangent to complement you, and yet somehow stick the landing to hit you with the most romantic poetry you've ever heard. A sensitive man who wears his emotions on his sleeve and wants to make the world a more beautiful place. An artist of the weave and a poet. The owner of the most overbearing tressym in the world. The moment the spell was complete, Gale Dekarios died and Gale the divine was born.

Even then, why is god Gale now so enticing to me unlike ascended Astarion? Because he loves you. He wants you by his side as an equal. It's actually sweet and romantic, just like all of Gale's romance is. I'm nothing if not a sucker for a romance.

"Follow my Lead" "Show me more. Show me it all." "I want you to seize the crown and make us a new world"

BeMyGod is the name in the data file for the boat scene where Gale asks you if you'll be with him when he seizes the crown. I know file names can be arbitrary, but if you agree to his proposal, you really are asking Gale to be your god. It's so easy to say yes. You're in the stars, Gale says I want to show you so much more, but it's not worth it without you. All you need to do is say yes. You're angry at Mystra who demanded so much of Gale, caused him such suffering and won't lift a finger to help. So You say yes. You love him. He loves you.

When Gale ascends, even in 6 months he is a different entity. The devs indicate: "His posture/demeanor here should feel slightly more aloof/detached than the regular Gale - he's been immortal for six months, his ego is as powerful as his magic. The real Gale's insecurities still lurk beneath his godlike confidence, as does his love for the player, but this is clearly a Gale setting out on a darker path."

The Gale here is a twisted version of the one we loved. His flaws are worse, he good traits have mostly disappeared. Namely his kindness and tolerance to deprecating humor. He no longer tolerates any perceived slight or jab. He doesn't let go of his bitterness towards Mystra. His ego is large yet fragile. You saw a glimpse of it at the ritual circle scene if you succeed in upstaging him in magic. Now it's only gotten worse. Yes even his insecurity. If you rejected him after accepting the proposal, Gale says this.

Tav: No, I think it's the end. What happened to the man I once loved? Gale: He's the god he deserves to be. I achieved everything we hoped I would, and still I'm not good enough for you?

He's also lonelier than ever. His last 6 months were in isolation, with nobody he could trust while dealing with the crown and celestial politics. Immortals don't really have friends. They have allies and lovers. He stops talking to his mother who was so dear to him. He develops a spell to polymorph people into Tara, his oldest friend who rejects him after ascension. He then develops a spell that summons Shadowdark ale and forces people to dance and be happy, just like the vignette he told you about the Yawning Portal. The third spell is Power word: Ruin. he's finally back to speaking death into being with a single word, just like he used to.

Gale wanted to be a god to make a better world, but now he's a neutral god answering prayers from any alignment. He doesn't care if they are Thayan wizards aiming for lichdom or unscrupulous Amnian merchants. Ambition is a neutral idea. Ambition also drives healers to develop a cure. For adventurers to slay monsters.

What's the most noticeable remaining good trait in Gale? Gale still loves you. He's much nicer to you if romanced. He refuses to be with you if you don't go with him because he doesn't want to hurt you. He admires your good heart if you want to honor the pact with Raphael. He calls you my love just like before. He will fulfill the promise sealed that night in the astral sea. All you have to do is say yes. And the ascension cinematic is a callback to the romance scenes from before.

"Follow my lead. Close your eyes. I have so much more to show you."

And you know what. I'll go with you. Even if we will eventually lose both our humanity in our folly, and dreams become nightmares. Even if I'll come to regret that night when I said yes to the mortal you, I don't want you to be lonely. Where ever you go, I'll go. You'll always have me. And I'll always have you.

As God Gale would say… "A toast then, to our myriad ambitions. May we each get what we deserve."

[diminuel]

Not to keep yapping about my thoughts, but, to throw some actual comfort into the angst. Prev post 1 Prev post 2

I don’t think Dragon could ever stop caring about Crocodile. Partly because of his guilt and shame, but also I think after a while he starts to realize he loved Crocodile for more than the escapism he offered. I don’t think he could after forget that. But he would probably resign himself to “Crocodile hates me, I’ve hurt him enough. He’s living a different life now. I can’t disturb that, I have no right to.” So just accepts he lost Crocodile and his chance at a family.

So I think Dragon would be more than willing to start a healing journey with Crocodile. But it’s all up to Crocodile whether it happens. Crocodile has a lot of pain to process and heal from. He has a lot of things he has to change his perspective on. He needs to see Dragon is willing and able to take accountability.

I truly think Marineford changed everything. I think it would have give Crocodile a new opportunity to really grow, and unpack his past. To finally truly heal instead of running away from and ignoring it. To see his baby.

I am really unsure how much Crocodile ever let himself truly feel, he probably just coped with it all through anger and shame. Never really wanted to process or understand, just push away and forget. I do also think no matter how much he shames himself for it, I can see him still admiring Dragon or at least not forgetting those cold quiet nights of them being together, loving each other.

So Crocodile has his heart-to-heart with Iva after Marineford. Iva punishes Dragon for his past choices. After sometime of them both moping, Iva suggests that it might be helpful if they both start talking. It doesn’t even have to be about any of the past. Just a simple, how are you. And if that can be good, maybe they can both finally address everything together. Iva probably has to take up the role as mediator, as he sees both sides and knows this can be good for them. Looking over Dragon’s shoulder, making sure he’s behaving.

It's definitely going to be a long, exhausting time before anything is truly better. But I can see them working it out. I’m sure Crocodile would be anxious to EVER make an intimate promise like before. So I don’t see it happening unless he can truly heal, and it’s what he wants and things will be good for him.

I don’t think Dragon would try to initiate any sort of like “hey I think we should talk again, or be partners again.” As that’s not really his call. Crocodile needs to feel he’s respected and in control here to build back trust. So I think Dragon would be pleased with anything Crocodile is wiling to give him. Whether that’s with the label “Partners” or not. I can definitely see them working something out.

(But I can def see them having long nice calls of just taking and being in each other presence. And or meeting up occasionally, and just fucking LOL!!)

Yeah, I think the perspective that distance and age brings might take some of the edge off of Crocodile's anger. He might be more understanding of what both of them got out of the relationship and he might also come to understand just how vital it to stay dedicated if you're leading an entire (sort of secret) organization. He understands how some things, even the most important and most precious things, will have to wait. Because they could wait, no matter how much it sucked to be pregnant and alone there weren't the lives of thousands at stake. (Crocodile was probably also isolated with only the midwife there to keep him infrequent, professional "company". Of course he withdraws into himself and stews in all the discomfort and loneliness and bitterness). But Dragon could not communicate that and Crocodile could not see it.

He does now. And maybe he does at times wonder how it would have been if they had overcome that. Because he did feel good with Dragon before everything crashed and burned around them.

But Marineford tore up a lot of wounds and despite it all, how is he able to cope with the choice Dragon made? A dead baby might have been a loss to put behind them and eventually move on. But a very much alive baby, that lie, the abandonment of it to the whims of Garp and Mountain Bandits?

The talking with Iva there as mediator would definitely help (especially since Iva will just be obnoxious and push and not let them sit on their resentments. He needs Dragon focused and it's in Crocodile's best interest to also figure this out.)

But yessss, phone calls and conversations and fucking. Hey, they've got a lot of pent up energy. And both of them probably haven't gotten laid in years. What's the worst that could happen?

[fatkish]

Gyomei Himejima x Suicidal Reader

(WARNING: contains dark thoughts, allusions to self harm, self hatred, mentions of suicide and other triggering topics. Please read at your own risk)

There’s no one left to care if this is the end, wondering what I’ll see once I have crossed over. There’s nothing left for me just give it all up, but my heart it clings on can’t pass the point of no return. Tell me why, give me a reason to continue to live. My resolve, if I could find it maybe I could fight. All alone, hopeless, I couldn’t stop myself from just wondering what I’d see if I died tonight.

Death had always been such an intriguing mystery to you. You never feared it, in fact, you were always curious about what it felt like. What happens after you die? What’s it like to be dead? Is there an afterlife? You always questioned it, never having answers. As you grew up, there were hard times, times when you became depressed, times when you resorted to hurting yourself, times you thought about ending it all. But then things got better, for a while, you forgot what it felt like to be so unhappy.

Would there be anyone who’d come to save me,they’re averting their eyes couldn’t even feel sorry.if I could find something I’d never give up, maybe I could survive in this bitter cold reality. All I know is the misfortune plaguing everyday, no one else would intervene just out of goodness of heart, give me something, a reason to look forward beyond here and now.Take that step from zero to one.

Until now. Sure, you had such an amazing and wonderful boyfriend, Gyomei Himejima. He’s so kind, compassionate and considerate of people. Despite his large frame the man is a gentle giant. His love is so sweet and warm and deep, you love snuggling in his warm arms. Laying your head on his chest as you listen to his heartbeat and his breathing. It slowly lulls you to sleep. Despite being blind he looks at you as if you’re the entire world. The sound of his laugh is like a warm day in fall, orange, yellow and red leaves falling all around you as you bask in the beauty of nature.

His loving smile is like being in a warm bath. The way he smiles and touches your face, gently cradling your face in his hands. You’ve never felt so loved. It feels too good to be true. Sometimes, you feel you don’t deserve such good things. You had told Gyomei of your past with depression and he had cried so hard, so deeply hurt that you felt that way and begged you to tell him if you ever had these feelings again. You had promised to tell him. You promised that you wouldn’t do anything without coming to him first.

Now with our own hands, we can make a future one worth living. Even if life comes with its share of bad luck, we will go on till everything comes undone. Tell me that this is worth the fight, I will find the strength somewhere inside me. My only reason doesn’t need to make sense, living for happiness til I meet the end.

But he’s a teacher. He’s so busy with school and you’re busy with your job. Sometimes, your work schedule doesn’t allow for you to see him at all, only being able to see each other for a few minutes at a time. Sometimes you’d go a whole week like this. You try to keep a regular schedule but sometimes your boss schedules you for late shifts. You always try to call and let Gyomei know whether you’ll be home or not. Lately you’ve found that your depression has come back and this time with a vengeance. When you take a bath alone, sometimes, you submerge yourself and wonder if you should come up for air. You haven’t told Gyomei about any of this.

Does being human have a meaning to me? Is there anyone left who can understand me now? I’ve made my choice and there’s no turning back, twisting all that I’ve known, let’s make something good come out of the bad. Will you find comfort at the edge of death? If you haven’t given up yet, we’ll find another way to the end. Loneliness no one can live with it for very long. Cause everyone will need someone, someway we can confide what’s in our hearts. Together we will always dance this waltz, now cross to the other side.

You don’t want to add to his stress. He works and has his own stuff to worry about, not to mention he has students to worry about. But you made a promise to him. You love him deeply and you could never forgive yourself if he blamed himself for your death. You know he would mourn you and the thought kills you. So when he came home that night, you asked if you could talk. Sensing the emotion in your voice, he agreed, worried for you. You brought him upstairs into the bedroom and sat down with him next to you. And you began to tell him everything about how you had been feeling. You told him about your thoughts of killing yourself and the thoughts that everything was too much.

We won’t ever know, when we must say our goodbyes. If they’re our last or if we’ll someday reunite. I’ll cherish what I have left, even through all the pain. Is this a first meeting that will change the rest of our lives. As I endure, the meaningless agony inside of my soul, I’ll send my cries into a world designed to damage the heart. If I can’t ever say the words that I’ve been holding back, then no one would ever step on forward. Zero to one.

As you bared your heart to him, tears swelled in his eyes as he began to cry at hearing your words. As you began to cry from the weight of everything, Gyomei wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into his lap. He buried his head between your neck and shoulder and softly began kissing you. He kissed you all over your neck and face. Giving you little butterfly kisses and nuzzling his forehead to yours. As he wiped your tears away he cradled your face and gave you a deep kiss. “My beloved, thank you so much for coming to me. I am so sorry that you have been feeling this way but I promise you that I am here for you. If you need anything please tell me, I love you so much and it breaks my heart to imagine a world without you.” He softly spoke as he cradled you in his arms.

Now with our own hands, we can make a future one with living. Even if life comes with its share of bad luck. We will go on til everything comes undone. Tell me that this is worth the fight. I will find the strength somewhere inside me. My only reason doesn’t need to make sense. Living for happiness til I meet the end.

As you snuggled into him and cried it out, he rocked you gently and supplied you with plenty of tissues. Once you had cried yourself out, he pulled you close and snuggled into you. “Perhaps you should take some time off, take some time for yourself” he suggested as he tried to help you. You pulled the covers up and snuggled under them when he got up to change his clothes. When he returned, he pulled the covers up and crawled underneath them before wrapping an arm around you and snuggling you to him. “Can we get a cat?” You asked. Gyomei thought about it and smiled. “It’s better and less expensive than a baby” you reasoned. “Were you thinking of having children?” He asked. “Maybe” you said. “Let’s start with a cat. Then we’ll go from there.” He smiled as he envisioned a small family with you, his beloved wife. You knew you had something worth living for, someone worth living for. Gyomei is your happiness, your reason to live.

[isalisewrites]

TERRIBLE, BUT GREAT - CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

SUMMARY:

“Harry Potter.”

The cold burrowed into his flesh, the scent of cloying death and molding earth clogged his senses.

“The Boy Who Lived.”

A strange sense of loss and disappointment rose within him. That brilliant, yet cruel boy could’ve been so much more if he’d not stepped down this bloodied path.

Terrible, but great. He pitied this creature.

“Come to die.”

Harry Potter faced the flash of green light with the bravery of a Gryffindor and the broken heart of a Hufflepuff.

—

When Death gives Harry a third option, one that can save everyone he ever cared about, he takes it unflinchingly. Even when that means doing the impossible: falling in love with the enemy, Tom Riddle.

—

FORTY-NINE EXCERPT:

It was quiet.

The table was empty save for a single teacup. Harry stood beside the table and stared into the cup, the drifting clouds and expansive bright blue sky reflective in its surface. A gentle breeze fluttered through his hair and the scent of grass wafted through his senses. He hooked a finger through the handle and brought the teacup to his lips, taking a sip.

The tea was bitter.

When Harry set the teacup down, it vanished. The table disappeared afterwards. Harry glanced around, yet there was nothing but endless fields of grass all around him, not a hint of anything else in the horizon. Despite its vastness, an odd sense of solitude washed over Harry. He wrapped his arms around his chest.

Harry wandered.

The longer he walked, the more the loneliness and despair grew inside his heart. Something was missing here. Surely, he wasn’t meant to wander forever, all alone, with no end in sight.

His soul ached with a strange loss.

“Voldemort!” cried Harry, stopping abruptly. “Where are you?”

The wind whistled gently, the blades of grass fluttered in its wake.

“Where did you go?” whispered Harry. “You’re supposed to be here in my dreams.”

He’d enjoyed their shared moments over tea. He’d enjoyed the man’s calm, yet frank wisdom. Dumbledore had often been vague and poetic in his wisdom; in contrast, within these dreams, Voldemort had been direct and clear. It’d been refreshing.

Harry could use a little wisdom today. 

What would Voldemort have to say about Death? About the dark magic Harry had used to save Tom? Would he be proud or disappointed? Voldemort had warned him about Death’s motives and now… well, he hadn’t been wrong about being wary. Whatever Death was, it was clear to Harry that the being had his own agenda, but he had no idea what it could be.

It didn’t matter, though.

If he had to relive that day all over again, Harry wouldn’t make a different choice. He would save Tom every time, no matter the cost.

“Voldemort, please,” whispered Harry, sinking into a crouch. “Please, come back.”

A breeze fluttered around him again, carrying with it an imperceptible echo. A hand rested on Harry’s head, weighted and tender.

“You really are a ridiculous, aggravating emotional child—as you always have been.”

Harry sucked in a breath.

“And that’s why I’ve grown rather fond of you.”

Tears burned in his eyes. Harry glanced up, but the hand didn’t move. His stomach fell. If Voldemort had been fragile, even a touch sickly, in their last dream, then he looked as if he were at Death’s door now.

“What’s wrong?” whispered Harry.

Voldemort inhaled and cast his gaze aside, looking out at the vibrant surroundings. Harry slowly stood up, taking in every terrifying detail. Voldemort had grown thinner and paler, his blackened veins stark against his snow white skin. His back was hunched slightly and wrinkles had formed deeper lines within his features. Harry realized with growing horror: the man truly looked over a hundred years old.

“Tom?”

Voldemort breathed out a low sigh and looked down at Harry with a saddened smile. “I haven’t been called Tom for a very long time.”

“Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”

“What you consider wrong, I do not.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” demanded Harry, panic rising in his heart. “You can’t do that to me. You’re supposed to be frank with me—you can’t pull a Dumbledore here.”

Voldemort snorted and, a moment later, he laughed. It was a genuine sound, deep and rich, though hoarse with age now. “You are right,” he said when his laughs turned into light chuckles. “I apologize. You’re right, Harry. Then… I will tell you the truth: this will be the last time you and I will ever speak together.”

[matrixbearer2024]

Suffering

Are you really even living? Or simply surviving doctor? When had immortality turned from a blessing into a curse? More importantly, did you really even care? Or did you only care because you're now all alone?

AKA; Ford internalizing now that he's alone and invulnerable to the sands of time. The same can't be totally said for his mental state though. After all, he's only human.

Songfic based on "Suffering" by Amelie Farren written for my Time Lord Twins AU!

I'm very delulu for my AU- so have a sneak peek into Doc's future with this song fic I wrote. I have three distinct moments for Stanford as the Doctor in my timelord twins AU:

the Doctor that neglects — when he was young and was only a Doctor thanks to his PhDs

the Doctor that regrets — present, where I normally create content for him and where his blog and RP are currently situated

the Doctor that forgets — the far flung future where he outlives everybody and completely embraces being a time lord

I'll be tagging these posts accordingly, but I'd love to talk about his lore much more if you guys are interested!

The sun had long dipped below the edge of the cosmos, surrendering to the sea of stars that now spilled across the boundless sky. Within the TARDIS, Stanford stood against the vast backdrop of that eternal night, the hum of the ship's machinery a constant, soothing drone beneath the cacophony of his thoughts. The silver pill case in his hand reflected the light of a nearby console, gleaming with a sterile brightness that made his skin crawl. He turned it over between his fingers, contemplating the small white tablets that represented his fragile tether to equilibrium.

  I've thrown aside my worries, but the cares they bite me back. I'm taking twenty vitamins a day, for the iron I lack.

  Stanford grimaced, the corners of his lips pulling downward as the familiar bitterness welled up in his throat. He tilted his head back and swallowed the pills dry, feeling them scrape down his throat as if rebelling against their purpose. Sustenance without substance, that was his life now. He no longer needed food to keep going, no longer needed the simple pleasures of living— he only indulged when he could remember to, when the aching loneliness hadn’t numbed his senses entirely.

  I don't need food I don't need sleep, don't tell me that I'm wrong! I don't know what I'm doing— But can you please just play along?

  The first decade had clawed at him with relentless, gnawing grief. Each year afterward seemed to find a new way to hollow him out, chiseling deeper into the marrow of his being until there was nothing left but the echo of old anguish. He would lie awake in the captain’s chair or pace the TARDIS halls, every footfall a metronome counting out regrets. Days would bleed into each other, a palette of shadows smearing over any sense of time. He’d stopped counting birthdays after the 200th, the last one he’d shared with Stanley.

  Why count when the numbers stretched toward an infinity he wanted nothing to do with?

  My head is made of flowers, and my body made of steel. Cause I can't think— Can't hear— can't feel!

  Stanford’s fingers flexed, muscles tightening and releasing as if testing the reality of their presence. The memories surged forward like a wave, unstoppable and suffocating— hands covered in grime and ash, eyes stinging from the smoke that rose like specters around him, the taste of iron sharp on his tongue. He had touched the stars, commanded them, until they burned him to cinders. His mind was an overgrown thicket now, vines of regret and bitterness weaving through every synapse, thorned reminders of a past he could neither escape nor amend.

  When he closed his eyes, he could see them— faces etched into the void, voices calling out in anguish as they fell. Each step, each choice, stained his path with crimson guilt. He felt like a monument to grief, immovable and ever-decaying.

  They say a picture's worth a thousand words, but I disagree. I can't imagine anything Cause I can't see!

  The doctor let out a breath that shuddered its way past his chest, eyes straying to the holographic stars projected across the TARDIS library. What he once chased with fervor and ambition had turned into an unyielding prison. The titles of “healer” and “teacher”, which once filled him with pride, now felt like weights dragging him deeper into the abyss. What good was saving worlds when he couldn’t save his own heart from splintering?

  I won't break the ice though what else Is there to do? Cause suffering in silence is better—

  He could scream, tear at the walls and curse the very fabric of the universe, but he didn’t. The tears had dried up centuries ago, leaving him a stoic effigy among the whirring consoles and glowing monitors. The charade was familiar— a smile that never reached his eyes, words measured and wrapped in carefully crafted ease. He was an actor in the greatest tragedy ever told, where the curtains never fell.

  Than suffering with you.

  The doctor’s gaze dropped to the leather-bound journal resting on the armrest of his chair, untouched for days. The pages within held maps of stars, sketches of constellations, and annotations written with a frantic hand, desperate to capture even a fragment of meaning. The room around him felt cavernous, echoing with memories of Dipper’s quick wit and Mabel’s bright laughter. He could almost hear them, almost see their shadows darting between bookshelves.

  But it was only him, just him, marooned in this endless stretch of time.

  So I jumped out with a parachute, but the ground caught me off guard. Karma for the rules I break, the ones I disregard.

  The temptation to go back, to step through rifts that bent reality and visit those moments, was irresistible. He’d done it before, left the TARDIS hidden among the trees and traced the familiar paths of Gravity Falls with trembling steps. His heart would clench as he watched past versions of himself and his twin squabble over nonsense, the cheery voices of his grand niece and nephew not long to join. Their voices carrying over the wind with the kind of ease that only came before everything shattered.

  I can feel the tension rising. What fate is worse than this? Stuck between the ones I love—

  He’d watch them, hidden in the shadows of his own memories, a ghost to a life he once lived. Cosmic rules be damned. He’d listen to the echoes of their laughter until it felt like it would break him, that painful, beautiful sound that underscored just how far he’d fallen. But even then, he would not dare approach, would not dare alter a single second.

  And the ones I miss.

  Stanford’s eyes shifted to the flickering flames of the library’s fireplace, its light casting restless, dancing shadows across the room. The orange glow did little to warm the chill embedded in his bones. How many Fords, across how many dimensions, would have craved this? A sanctuary lined with knowledge and power, the respect of entire galaxies balanced on a single whispered name— ‘Doctor.’ And yet, it was all as hollow as the space between the stars.

  My head is made of shrubbery, and my body made of stone. Cause I can't for the life of me— reap what I have sown!

  He tightened his hold on the armrest, the leather creaking under his grip. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. It never should have come to this— sailing across time, trapped in a machine that hummed with its own form of loneliness, while he wore a mask that no one ever questioned. It felt like being both the sculptor and the statue, shaping and trapped by the life he’d carved out.

  They say a picture's worth a thousand words, but I disagree. I can't imagine anything, 'cause I can't see!

  The weight of immortality, once so alluring, now coiled around him like iron shackles. What did it matter if entire legions paused at the utterance of his name? What did it matter if beings far beyond human comprehension flinched at the sight of him? It meant nothing without the echoes of laughter, without the warmth of shared stories and the unspoken understanding of his family’s presence beside him.

  I won't break the ice though what else Is there to do? 'Cause suffering in silence is better—

  He filled the silence with companions, short-lived stars that burned bright and fizzled out too quickly. They were there, and then they weren’t. Time was relentless, wearing them down to memories while he stood unchanged. Each one chipped away at him, left him a little more hollow. His only true constant was Stanley, and even he didn’t know the full story. Ford wouldn’t let him, couldn’t let him see that far into the dark.

  Than suffering with you.

  The TARDIS thrummed, a soft, sympathetic sound that vibrated through his bones as if it, too, mourned the lives they’d shared and lost. Ford exhaled, the heaviness in his chest pressing down like a stone. He could carry this, he would carry this— because if there was one thing he’d learned in all these centuries, it was that some battles are never meant to be shared. Some wars are fought in silence, against an enemy that wore your face in the mirror.

  And if the burden grew too heavy, well— he was the Doctor. He would bear it alone.

  He had to.

  I try to sink and never float.

  Some days, the weight was manageable, a familiar companion that settled over him like a well-worn cloak. But tonight, the burden felt insurmountable, pressing against his chest until each breath tasted sharp, like the metallic tang of blood from battles fought too long ago to matter and yet too vivid to forget.

  Stanford’s eyes turned to the viewport, where the stars blinked back at him with their indifferent light. Once, those points of light had been symbols of promise, of adventure and uncharted paths. Now they were cold eyes watching as he drifted— an eternal voyager, bound by his own choices and the mistakes that clung to him like barnacles on a shipwreck.

  Cause my head is underwater.

  The doctor’s fingers found the edge of his sleeve, gripping it tight as though it could anchor him. The silence roared in his ears, the kind that made old wounds ache with the sharpness of fresh cuts. Memories of splintered wood and that familiar bite of ozone filled his senses. The frantic fight, the blinding light, the hole that had torn through his chest— a wound that should have marked the end. He let out a shuddering breath, feeling phantom pain coil around him like a serpent.

  I’m here by choice by my own hand.

  The most damning part was knowing that every fracture, every scar, was carved by his own hand. He’d walked into the chaos willingly, driven by an insatiable need to prove something— to whom, he couldn’t even remember anymore. A need that had led him to make choices that, at best, haunted him and, at worst, had cost him everything.

  I’m a lamb sent into slaughter.

  He ran a hand through his hair, disheveling the silver strands that had once been a youthful umber. The weight in his chest grew heavier, spreading through his limbs. He remembered the moment he’d sealed his fate with a handshake and a grin, signing away pieces of himself to a demon who promised everything and gave nothing but ruin. Even now, the jeers of that one-eyed triangle haunted the corners of his vision, mocking him with every beat of his undying heart.

  I’m aware of my own body.

  Every nerve ending screamed in protest as memories flared to life. The repair box’s nanobots— an endless legion that buzzed beneath his skin— worked tirelessly, a ceaseless reminder that he wasn’t wholly his own anymore. Some days, he could almost feel them moving, an itch he could never scratch. His hands curled into fists, knuckles turning white as he resisted the impulse to claw at the sensation, to rip it out and make it stop.

  I can feel beneath my skin.

  But he didn’t. He never did. The discipline of centuries held him captive, a slave to his own stoic facade. He swallowed hard, letting the tension dissipate as much as it ever could, settling like sediment at the bottom of his soul. The fire’s light flickered over his features, casting deep shadows that made his face look carved from stone.

  I can wash away my insecurities.

  He stood abruptly, the sudden motion sending a wave of dizziness through him. The doctor steadied himself against the back of the chair, eyes closing as he drew in a breath. The act was as much a ritual as any he performed— a way to wash the fractures of his spirit, to convince himself that he was still whole. But deep down, he knew.

  But can’t wash away my sin!

  No amount of time, no act of heroism, could ever cleanse the burgundy that stained his hands. It was a truth that gnawed at him, a constant shadow that whispered during his moments of quiet. He turned toward the shelves, running a finger over the spine of a book he’d read a hundred times but never truly absorbed. Knowledge without purpose— just like him.

  They say a picture’s worth a thousand words, but I disagree! I can’t imagine anything—

  The holographic stars in the library blinked and swirled, shifting constellations that once spoke of wonder and exploration. Now, they were a cruel reminder of all the places he’d been, all the faces he’d left behind. He raised a fist, hesitated, then let it fall to his side. He couldn’t even find the anger to break the illusion.

  Cause I can’t see!

  His vision blurred, not with tears— those had dried up long ago— but with the weight of exhaustion that pressed down on him like a vice. Every accolade, every whispered praise, fell flat, their meaning washed away by the tides of time and repetition. The applause of civilizations felt no different than the hollow sound of silence.

  I won’t break the ice though what else Is there to do?

  The cold chill crept into his veins, a familiar companion that had shared his endless nights. Yet, he dared not crack the veneer he’d cultivated— that smile, that reassuring nod. It was a mask, as impenetrable as the TARDIS walls. To break it would mean shattering the delicate balance that kept him standing.

  Cause suffering in silence is better—

  Stanford’s fingers brushed against the journal again, the touch almost reverent, as if it held the answers he’d long given up searching for. The one story he couldn’t write was his own— each word caught in the tangle of what-ifs and could-have-beens that ensnared his mind.

  Than suffering with you!

  He swallowed back the ache, pushing it down to the depths where it simmered and seethed. To bear it alone was better; it was safer. The doctor would stand, resolute and silent, a guardian of time burdened by its cruelest truths.

  And as the night deepened, the stars outside continued their silent vigil, unmoved by the man who carried the weight of universes in his lonely fractured heart.

Tell me what you think about these two! I've got more drabbles in store for them aside from the content already on both their blogs @gftimelord & @gftimelordstwin! Also posted here on Ao3!

[athousandbyeol]

happiness and acceptance, old grief, fear, vulnerability and the need to belong; episode 7 recap

oh, wow. this episode is so bittersweet. it's so beautiful and pretty and kind and gentle, but so realistic and painful and jarring and quiet.

i think by far, this is one of my favourite episodes. it's such a surprise to me—i think we're finally seeing and hearing and experiencing jiang tian's inner voice for the first time—upfront. it's no longer hiding away with the shadow under his feet. it's evident. but still so very shy and afraid. but it's there. and it's waiting for the right time to come out.

i have to say, this episode makes me realise that trauma runs deep and long and everlasting. i don't think it could ever go away. and I see that in jiang tian. i see how that trauma has shaped him to be who he is—so closed-off and fragile and fearful—but still so gentle and loving and appreciative and attentive.

there's something in the way benjamin is as an actor—i can't compliment him enough. it's difficult to pull off these intricate yet believable facial expressions without being cringey or over-the-top. but he did everything with poise and grace and so much attention to detail that I'm just in utter shock and awe.

happiness and acceptance

something about this sequence... i can't really put my thoughts into words. but the way jiang tian's face morphs from happiness to awe to acceptance? probably, a thought crosses his mind; I'm happy now. finally, I'm happy with someone who makes me the happiest.

the smile he wears when he's looking at sheng wang is of gratitude. and relief. and it's so bittersweet to me how it took him 16/17 years to finally have a morsel of this happiness. he truly deserves this and more :(

old grief

honestly... would anyone ever believe that these pictures come after those stills mentioned before? i wouldn't. because how on earth did the sparkle in jiang tian's eyes disappear—and how did the old gloom of grief suddenly became too blinding? (benjamin tsang, THE actor you are.)

there's so much grief and unwanted old memories and the bitterness of remembering those recollections that were very haunting and hollowing and suffocating.

i can't even imagine the pain jiang tian went through as a child—to witness the infidelity of his father—to see his mother breaking her bones and wearing fake smiles just to make ends meet—to find refuge in a stray cat because finally, someone could understand him. could understand the loneliness. could feel the sadness coursing in his bloodstream. could feel everything he was feeling. and it's so heartbreaking.

fear

jiang tian's fear is so quiet. it's so distant. it's so elusive. but it's there. and it's growing. it has never stopped growing. even though jiang tian tried to push it away, it would still crawl back to him, like a second skin.

and it's daunting how there's a new fear unlocked in him; losing sheng wang. losing the shine. losing the happiness. losing the tranquillity sheng wang brings upon him. losing his light—his sun.

i think jiang tian was so scared of qi jiahao or di zhaitao hurting sheng wang again. because he didn't want sheng wang to experience that again—to fight alone—to be afraid alone.

but once jiang tian found sheng wang, the fear subsided. it's a relief. and it's the usual anger. but not the destructive kind. this time, it means i care. it means i'm so worried. it means don't ever do that again. it means don't ever leave me.

vulnerability

it's so mental to me how this episode finally brings forward jiang tian's feeling to the spotlight. we could see him slowly becoming more open, especially with sheng wang.

it hurts me so much when jiang tian could only look at sheng wang tying the bracelet around his wrist. he didn't say anything. he was just looking. because jiang tian didn't know what to say. he didn't know if words could ever describe how much this moment meant to him—how sheng wang meant to him.

so he could only watch. he has always been watching sheng wang from a distance. but this time, he could watch sheng wang from a distance close enough to be assured that sheng wang won't stray too far from his orbit. sheng wang would be there—here. and jiang tian would finally meet him halfway.

"suddenly i feel that you're about my age."

sheng wang was coming for my life when he said this. it felt like a sucker punch straight in the face. Lord.

it's so heartbreaking because i do understand the meaning behind sheng wang's comment. i guess, even to sheng wang, jiang tian felt like someone older—a brother, a father, a friend, a protector, a saviour.

it feels nice to hear sheng wang saying this to jiang tian. it's assuring too. somehow, it's a reminder to jiang tian that he's still young. he doesn't have to grow up before the right age. he doesn't have to be an adult between them. he doesn't have to carry the burden alone. jiang tian doesn't have to do all these alone. he has sheng wang now. they can be kids or grown-ups or whatever—together.

(my heart was twisting and turning in my chest when I watched this... and I ended up crying...)

a sense of belonging

these stills are enough to explain the depth of their budding relationship. the reliance. the trust. the love. so much love and respect and desire and need and greed to be each other's protectors.

sheng wang just said everything i hoped he said at one point in this story. and I'm so glad that his words were so true and honest and beautiful.

"for everything you did to me, i'll do the same for you. I'll be here, with and for you."

i adore how both of them are brave to take the next step together. and I like how sheng wang was the one suggesting this move-in. i think it's so important for his character because he has always been beating around the bush—he has always made jiang tian guess what he wanted. but this moment right here, he was being straightforward and resolute and firm.

move in with me. it'll be only us there. it'll be our own little world. it can be your world. and your world is my world.

and the way jiang tian was looking at sheng wang with so much hope and relief and happiness and gratitude............ i'm bawling :(((

final thoughts

i absolutely adore this episode because i feel like it's a reset for the second half of the series. it feels more intimate, in a sense that we're finally getting into jiang tian's backstory (that will definitely kill me in future episodes) and the beautiful transformation of their love story. it's so bittersweet and I can't help but sympathise with jiang tian and sheng wang.

i'm certain the next episodes won't be rainbows and sunshine, but it also won't be only rain clouds and thunderstorms. I'm just so, so glad that episode seven, the second portion of the drama, started off with something very vulnerable but honest and relatable. it reminds me of how we witnessed sheng wang's backstory in the first episode and the first chunk of the series.

i'm most definitely anticipating tomorrow's episode. i hope it won't make cry the way it did in this one.

(also, shout out to my best boy gao tianyang! don't worry, love. li jia will definitely fall for you <3)

[emperordinozenmon]

Is it wrong to Fight my enemies outside a dungeon?

“What is the mark of a hero? Is it courage? Honor? Virtue? Community?” I wonder, feeling that familiar ache echo in my chest, the hollow loneliness I never quite manage to fill. “Maybe if I tried hard enough, this pain gnawing at my spirit would disappear. Maybe the isolation would too.” I shake my head, trying to push away the thought. The more I think about it, the deeper the ache becomes.

“Yo, Zen, stop being introspective, and come on!” Izanami’s voice cuts through my thoughts. Her bright tone and casual warmth make me feel safe, like I have a purpose here, with her. I force a grin and jog over, and she gives me that signature grin of hers—bright and encouraging, always making me feel that maybe, just maybe, I’m exactly where I need to be.

“How was the dungeon crawl?” she asks, her eyes filled with that motherly concern I’ve come to rely on.

“Fine. Made it a floor deeper than yesterday,” I say, handing over my loot.

“Not bad at all,” she says, her eyes twinkling. “You’ll be a level-two adventurer in no time.” Her pride in me stirs something warm and solid, a feeling that tethers me to this strange, chaotic world. She goes through the haul, nodding approvingly. “This will keep us going for at least another few months, at least,” she says with satisfaction, and I give her a thumbs up. Being the only current member of her Familia is tough, but she’s always there, supporting me in ways no one else ever has.

As I head toward my room, a faint sound—voices, laughter—catches my attention. That’s odd. The Yomi Familia hall has always been quiet, just Izanami and me. I glance over my shoulder at her, and she shrugs an amused smile.

Before I can ask, there’s a crash behind me. I spin around, and the next thing I know, someone’s barreling into me, sending us both sprawling onto the floor. I groan, pushing myself up—only to find a pair of warm brown eyes staring back at me.

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” The girl sitting across from me lets out a startled laugh, brushing herself off as she rises. She extends a hand toward me, flashing an apologetic smile. “Are you okay? I didn’t mean to run into you like that.”

Her voice is strong yet soothing, a kind of calm confidence I wasn’t expecting. I take her hand, pulling myself up. “Yeah, I’m fine,” I mutter, still a bit stunned. “Uh…I’m Zen.”

She laughs again, and it’s warm, genuine. “Nice to meet you, Zen. I’m Jihyo.” Something is reassuring about her presence, something that makes the unfamiliar warmth in my chest less unsettling. She lets go of my hand, glancing at Izanami with an easy familiarity.

“I met Jihyo while picking up your sword,” Izanami explains, crossing her arms as she watches us with a knowing smile. “She’s new to the Familia, just left her previous one. They…abandoned her in the dungeon.” Her voice grows cold, and I can tell Izanami’s already fiercely protective of this recruit.

Jihyo’s gaze drops for a moment, and she nods. “Yeah, I suppose you could say I had a falling out with my last Familia,” she says, her voice quiet but resolute. “I was stuck on a lower floor, left to fend for myself. But I’m here now.” She looks up, and there’s no bitterness in her eyes—only determination.

I nod, feeling an unexpected respect for her resilience. Izanami places a hand on Jihyo’s shoulder. “She’s a wizard and a songstress, so she’ll need you to look out for her when she’s preparing spells. But I have no doubt she’ll be a strong addition to our team.”

Jihyo looks at me, her expression soft but serious. “I may be new, but I’ll do my best to pull my weight,” she says earnestly. “I don’t want to be a burden. I want to prove I’m worth this second chance.”

“You will,” I reply, surprised by how certain I sound. Her sincerity has already disarmed me, and for the first time, I feel an odd flicker of purpose in protecting someone. “You’ll be safe here.”

Izanami, grinning now, chimes in. “Our little Familia is growing, Zen. We have Jihyo here, and a few more new members: Hanni, Azulon, and the supporter Ranni.” She beams, clearly thrilled. “It’s exciting to see this place coming alive, don’t you think?”

I give her a small smile, nodding. The thought of a larger Familia, of people filling the empty spaces, feels strange—but in a good way. For once, I don’t feel so alone.

Izanami leans in, almost conspiratorial. “Oh, and Zen—don’t forget. I still need to check your experience gains.”

An hour later, I find myself lying on my stomach, Izanami tracing symbols on my back, reading out my latest gains. “More strength, more agility…pretty much everything’s up across the board. And your skill ‘Tyrannus Taxare’ has leveled up.”

I hear a quiet giggle from the corner. I look up to see Jihyo leaning against the wall, watching the process with amused curiosity.

“I didn’t know you found counting so exciting,” I teased Jihyo. She smiled and said.

“Well…I was curious about you,” I smiled. Jihyo smiled back.

“Didn’t expect adventuring to involve getting a progress report, did you?” I ask with a grin, feeling oddly lighter with her around.

She laughs softly, meeting my gaze. “Not exactly, but it’s kind of nice, you know? To be somewhere that keeps track of you.” Her smile fades, a thoughtful look replacing it. “It makes you feel like you matter.”

I nod, absorbing her words. At this moment, with Izanami’s hand steady on my back and Jihyo’s warm presence nearby, I feel something shift within me. Izanami finishes her work, the chill of her fingers lingering as she hands me the update sheet.

“You are now an official level 3 adventurer,” Izanami says. I turn to face her confused.

“But I thought I was level almost level 2?” I questioned. Izanami smiles and then says,

“Well I might have messed up the math a few nights ago after you beat that Dragon but yeah you are level 3 now… yay. Isn’t it exciting?” I nod suspiciously and Izanami smiles.

“You’re not telling me something” I deduced. Izanami smiles and says,

“And neither are you.”

I squint and ask what she means.

Her expression softens, but there’s an intensity in her eyes that feels almost maternal.“Are you finally going to tell me why I found you in that alley, wounded and holding onto Orichalcum+, mithril+ Adamantine+ 2 ancient war dragon fangs, and one artillery dragon spine? Like it was a lifeline? Most level-one adventures don’t have access to high-level items like that t” Her voice is gentle, and probing, but I can feel the weight of her concern pressing against me.

I look away, my hands tightening around the sheet. “No…not yet,” I reply quietly.

She lets out a soft sigh, clearly wanting to press further but holding herself back. I catch Jihyo watching us from the corner of the room, her eyes sharp and curious. When Izanami turns away, Jihyo mouths a single word: Later.

After everything is wrapped up, I head to the communal bath, eager for the solitude it promises. The warm steam begins to ease the tension in my muscles, and I let myself relax.

The door creaks open.

I instinctively reach for a towel, pulling it around myself as Jihyo steps in, wrapped in her towel. Her hair is damp, a few strands clinging to her neck. She doesn’t hesitate as she approaches me.

“So,” she begins, her tone pointed but not unkind, “tell me what a dead adventurer is doing in a new Familia under a different goddess’s protection?”

I tense, shrugging defensively. “Does it matter?”

Jihyo crosses her arms, inching closer. Her eyes are steady, unwavering, and I feel my pulse quicken under her gaze.

“It matters to me,” she says firmly, her voice softening as she steps closer. Her presence feels both reassuring and unnerving “Garuzen.”

The sound of my real name—one I haven’t shared with anyone, not even Izanami—sends a shiver through me. My throat tightens as I meet her gaze.

“How did you know?”

“Despite the beard, the scar, and the face paint your face is the same, and I never forget the face or name of a fan. I am surprised though that an ex-member of Karna’s familia is here under a goddess who loves Karna like a brother. So what happened?”

I stiffened and Jihyo noticed. She moves closer. Her hands slip into mine and she stares at me with those soft big brown disarming eyes.

“You’re safe with me,” she affirms as she caresses my arm, her voice low but steady, a quiet promise that somehow feels unshakable.

For a moment, I want to believe her. To trust her. But the memories—the fear, the pain—they’re still too close, still too raw. I

“I’m not ready to tell the story yet,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper.

Jihyo huffs a mix of disappointment and understanding flickering across her face. She doesn’t press further, though. Instead, she shifts, leaning her shoulder against mine.

Together, we sit in silence, gazing up at the stars visible through the open roof of the bathhouse. The quiet stretches between us, but it isn’t uncomfortable. It’s…peaceful.

Her hand finds mine again, her grip firm and steady.

“Fine then I’ll trust you,” she says finally, her voice carrying an honesty that cuts through the fog of my thoughts. She leans in closer, her warmth seeping into the spaces where I feel the cold the most. After a while, we leave the bathroom and go our separate ways but I feel an ache in my heart when I don’t feel Jihyo’s presence near anymore.

The next day, the sun is already high as Jihyo and I make our way toward the guild hall. The streets hum with the usual morning bustle—vendors calling out deals, adventurers haggling over supplies, and the occasional raucous laughter spilling out of taverns. Beside me, Jihyo walks with an easy grace, though her occasional sideways glances tell me she’s deep in thought.

Finally, she breaks the silence, her voice soft but curious. “Why do you avoid passing Karna’s Familia home? We could cut our time in half.”

Her words catch me off guard. I glance at her, expecting the usual skepticism or judgment most people would throw my way when I mention Karna’s Familia. Instead, her gaze is steady, her brow furrowed not in accusation but in concern.

“I’m avoiding it,” I say simply, hoping to leave it at that.

But Jihyo doesn’t let it go. She nods thoughtfully, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Look, I get being angry, but avoiding them forever isn’t healthy.”

I blink at her, genuinely surprised. “I’m not angry with them…well, except for the one I am.” I hesitate, then tilt my head slightly. “Wait. Is my guardedness coming off as hostility?”

Jihyo stops mid-step, her face scrunching in surprise. “Wait? Huh. I thought—” She shakes her head, a smile tugging at her lips. “Guess I was reading it wrong.”

We resume walking, her words lingering in the air between us. By the time we step into the guild hall, the familiar hum of activity surrounds us—adventurers swapping stories, guild clerks shouting out new requests, and the faint scrape of steel as someone sharpens their blade. But I barely notice. Her question sticks with me, and I find myself compelled to explain.

“I avoid them because of Karna,” I begin, glancing at her. “He doesn’t use normal vision. He has true sight. He sees people as they truly are. So if I walk by his Familia home and he happens to see me—which, historically, I’m not lucky enough to avoid—he’ll make a scene.”

Jihyo arches a brow, curious. “A scene? What kind of scene?”

“The kind where he calls out my name loud enough for the entire city to hear and then pulls me into some overly dramatic reunion. Trust me, it’s the last thing I need.”

Her eyes widen slightly as I continue. “Karna’s an excellent leader—kind, fair, nurturing. But he’s also naive, oblivious, and excitable. His Familia is either full of people like him or full of treacherous opportunists. I was unaware of the politics at first because I barely stayed at the Familia house. But…well, you can imagine how that turned out. The point is, I don’t want him—or his Familia—to know I’m alive.”

We stop at the request board, and Jihyo appraises me. Her expression shifts as she pieces something together. “One of your Familia mates betrayed you…after a dungeon crawl?”

I sigh, the memory surfacing like a wound I’d thought I’d buried. “Yes.”

She steps closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Why not take your stuff, then?”

“He did.” My voice comes out flatter than I intended. “I was a level 4 adventurer before coming to Izanami.”

Jihyo freezes, her expression turning to horror. “Oh, gods. He used a cleanser, didn’t he?”

I nod grimly. “There’s a young man named Mordred in the Familia. He forged a weapon called Clarent from cleansing stones. But that’s not all. He has a skill called Skill Drain. It lets him steal someone’s stats and skills through physical attacks. When I hit level 4 and replaced him as the top adventurer in the Familia, he ambushed me. Stripped me of everything I’d worked for.”

Jihyo stares at me, stunned. “He didn’t just steal your skills…he stole you. All your hard work is gone in a moment.”

I don’t respond immediately. My hands tighten on the stack of requests I’m holding, and I force myself to shrug. “Can I get those skills back? Maybe. But that would put Izanami, Karna, and anyone else I care about in danger. I won’t risk it.”

She’s quiet for a moment, then steps into my line of sight, her gaze soft but determined. “You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for, Zen. And if anyone can come back from something like that…it’s you.”

Her words catch me off guard, but I find a small smile tugging at my lips despite myself. “Thanks…oh, and please don’t mention this to Izanami. Because if you do…” I let out a low groan, already dreading the thought. “She’s doting to an overbearing degree as it is. If she knew, she’d make a scene. And that’s the last thing I want.”

Jihyo laughs, the sound light and warm. “Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.” She pauses, her expression softening again. “Thanks for opening up to me.”

I nod, exhaling a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. “You’re welcome.”

The tension between us dissipates as we step away from the request board. For the first time in a while, I feel a little lighter, though the weight of the past still lingers. Jihyo falls into step beside me, and as we head toward our next destination.

We arrive at the dungeon entrance just as the morning sun starts to climb higher, its light casting long shadows over the yawning, ominous opening before us. The faint sound of adventurers returning from overnight runs carries in the crisp air—armor clinking, voices murmuring, and the occasional groan of someone who’d clearly had a rougher time than expected.

I glance at Jihyo as we approach. Her usual composed expression is mixed with a hint of anticipation, her hands tightening around the straps of her gear.

“You’ve got everything, right?” I ask, scanning her pack briefly before looking her in the eye.

She furrows her brows, tilting her head slightly. “Wait, we’re going in without a supporter?”

I nod, adjusting the strap on my pack. “We don’t need one. This isn’t a full crawl, just a small trip. The purpose is to fulfill a few minor requests, get the guild their cut, and maybe grab a little extra for ourselves. Nothing major.”

Her expression softens, though a flicker of doubt lingers. “Oh, okay. So how long will we be in the dungeon for?”

“Two hours, maybe,” I answer with a shrug. “Depends on how cooperative the monsters are.”

She lets out a small laugh and nods. “Right. Cooperative monsters. I’ll keep my hopes low.”

We step past the threshold into the cool, dim interior of the dungeon. The atmosphere shifts immediately—the air becomes heavier, carrying with it a faint, metallic tang of stone and the distant growl of creatures deeper within. The walls glisten faintly in places, catching the pale light of our magic lantern.

As we walk, I keep my voice low, pointing out small signs that most newcomers would miss: scratches on the wall marking a monster’s patrol route, the faint shimmer of mana-rich ore embedded in the stone. Jihyo listens attentively, her footsteps light and steady beside mine.

The first materials we need are gathered quickly—clusters of glowing mushrooms that emit soft blue light. I kneel, carefully slicing the stems with a small knife while Jihyo holds the lantern steady.

“These are for a potion maker,” I explain. “Glowcaps are tricky. They’re fragile, and they lose potency fast once harvested.”

Jihyo nods, her focus sharp as she carefully packs the mushrooms into a padded compartment in her bag. “Got it. Anything else nearby?”

“Yeah, a vein of mana crystals should be around the next bend. Easy pickings if no one’s been through here yet.”

We continue deeper, finding the vein exactly where I expected it to be. Jihyo grins as she picks up her first crystal, its faint purple glow illuminating her face.

“These are beautiful,” she says softly.

“Don’t get too attached,” I chuckle. “Once the guild processes them, they’re just money in someone else’s pocket.”

She rolls her eyes but smiles, tucking the crystals into a pouch.

The rest of the run goes smoothly—a few minor scuffles with low-level monsters that we dispatch without much effort, and a few more materials gathered for various requests. Jihyo surprises me with her precision in combat, her movements deliberate and fluid. She might not have the raw power of someone who’s been at this as long as I have, but she’s sharp, adaptable, and unfazed under pressure.

By the time we head back toward the entrance, our packs are heavier, and the air feels lighter. The weight of the dungeon’s oppressive energy starts to fade as the sunlight comes into view.

“Well, that wasn’t so bad,” Jihyo says, her voice tinged with satisfaction. “Two hours exactly, just like you said.”

I glance at her and smirk. “Told you. Not every dungeon trip has to be life-threatening.”

“Still…” She trails off, glancing over her shoulder toward the dark expanse behind us. “I don’t know how you ever get used to it. The quiet, the darkness—it’s unsettling.”

“You don’t get used to it,” I reply, stepping into the sunlight and turning to look at her. “You just learn to make peace with it.”

She considers my words as we head back toward the guild, her expression thoughtful. I catch her looking at me out of the corner of my eye, but she doesn’t say anything, and I don’t press.

The dungeon might be behind us, but Jihyo’s silence is heavy, her steps uneven as we walk back toward the guild. I glance at her out of the corner of my eye, noticing the way her fingers fidget with the straps of her bag. She’s jittery, her shoulders tense and her breaths slightly quicker than usual. Her eyes dart to the shadows around us, even though we’re in the clear.

I lean closer and ask softly, “Everything alright?”

She flinches, startled, as if I’ve yanked her out of her thoughts. “Oh, uh—yeah. I mean, sort of.” Her voice wavers, unconvincing. “It’s just…that was my first dungeon crawl since I got abandoned.”

I stop walking and turn to her, my brow furrowing. “What happened?”

Jihyo hesitates, her lips pressing together as she looks at the ground. Her hands grip the straps of her bag tightly, knuckles white. “I don’t—” She cuts herself off, glancing at me, and then it happens. She breaks down, tears spilling down her cheeks as she sobs openly.

I step closer but don’t touch her, giving her the space to let it out. After a few shaky breaths, she finally speaks, her words trembling but raw.

“We were facing off against a lich,” she begins, her voice cracking. “It was supposed to be a simple job. But then it summoned something out of nowhere—a dracolich. We weren’t prepared. Our leader, Yamato, yelled for a retreat, and we all ran for it. But on the way out, Dahyun…she got trapped in a prism spell. She was screaming for help, and I begged Yamato to go back for her.”

Her voice hardens, bitterness creeping into her tone. “But Yamato just looked at me and said, ‘Abandon her. She’s replaceable anyway.’ Replaceable.” Jihyo’s fists clench, her nails digging into her palms. “I couldn’t believe it. I was furious. Dahyun was one of us, and she was willing to leave her behind like she was nothing.”

Her gaze lifts to meet mine, her eyes filled with pain. “I couldn’t accept that. So I went back for her. I fought my way through the lich’s traps and managed to free her, but the prism caught me instead. I…I was ready to die there.”

She pauses, her breath hitching. “And I would have, if not for a random adventurer. This warrior showed up out of nowhere, wearing red armor, and started fighting the dracolich single-handedly. He didn’t even hesitate—just charged in like it was nothing. The lich and its minions scattered, and somehow, he managed to shatter the prism and get me out. He didn’t even say much before disappearing. I don’t even know who he was.”

As she speaks, a faint memory surfaces in my mind. An armored adventurer wearing red, battling a dracolich in the depths of a dungeon. My eyes widen slightly as I realize—it was me. Back when I was with the Karna Familia.

For me, it had been just another day. I’d been mining for mithril and adamantine, not expecting a fight, when the dracolich showed up. That battle had been grueling, but it had rewarded me with a series of intrinsic skills that couldn’t be drained by Mordred. It had felt like a stroke of luck at the time, but now, hearing Jihyo’s story, I realize it was more than that. Our lives had intersected in that moment, and neither of us had even known.

I keep this realization to myself, letting Jihyo finish.

“When I got back,” she says, her voice quieter now, “Yamato was furious with me. He accused me of insubordination, said I’d put the entire Familia at risk. I told Amaterasu our Familia's goddess what she said about Dahyun, how she called her replaceable. she didn’t even deny it. sHe just said that leaders have to make tough decisions, and if I couldn’t accept that, I didn’t belong in a Familia with her.”

Her jaw tightens. “So I left. I couldn’t stay with someone like her, someone who would abandon her own. Dahyun left too along with the rest of our adventuring group. We tried to start over without a familia, but…it wasn’t the same after that. I’ve been trying to rebuild, but every time I step into a dungeon, I can still hear his voice. ‘Replaceable.’ Like none of us mattered.”

She falls silent, and I let the weight of her words settle between us. After a moment, I speak, my tone steady and reassuring.

“For what it’s worth, you’re not replaceable, Jihyo. Yamato might have been a leader, but he sure as hell wasn’t a good one.”

She offers a weak smile, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “Thanks, Zen. I guess…I just needed to say it out loud.”

We resume walking, the guild coming into view ahead. But my mind lingers on that memory, on the red armor and the dracolich. It’s strange to think how connected our paths have been, even before we met. Life has a funny way of weaving stories together, doesn’t it?

After turning in our requests at the guild, Jihyo and I step out into the bustling square, the sun warming the stone streets. She looks more at ease now, though her earlier tears have left a faint redness around her eyes. I’m about to suggest grabbing a bite to eat when I hear a voice call out from the crowd.

“Jihyo?”

We both turn toward the sound. A woman with short, dark hair and a radiant smile weaves her way through the crowd, her silver-and-blue Freya Familia cloak billowing slightly behind her. She’s flanked by a familiar face—Lua, my old friend from the Kali Familia. Lua, always composed, raises an eyebrow when she spots me.

“Mina!” Jihyo exclaims, her face lighting up. She rushes forward to embrace the other woman, and they share a tight hug that speaks of relief and affection.

“I can’t believe it’s you,” Mina says, pulling back but keeping her hands on Jihyo’s shoulders. “It’s been ages! You look…well, okay, you look like you’ve been through a lot, but still, it’s so good to see you.”

Jihyo laughs, a little sheepishly. “Yeah, it’s been a rough year. But you—you’re with Freya Familia now? That’s incredible!”

Mina grins. “It’s been a wild ride, that’s for sure. Lady Freya saw something in me, and, well, here I am. But enough about me—what are you doing here?”

Jihyo glances back at me, and Mina’s eyes follow her gaze. “Oh!” Mina’s grin widens mischievously. “Who’s this? Your new partner?”

Before Jihyo can answer, Lua steps forward, her long black braid swaying with her movement. She crosses her arms and gives me an exaggerated once-over. “Zen with another adventurer? That’s a sight I didn’t expect to see.”

I roll my eyes but can’t help smiling. “Hello to you too, Lua. Still traveling with the Kali Familia, I see?”

She smirks. “And still better than you, obviously.”

Jihyo looks between us, confused but intrigued. “Wait, you two know each other?”

Lua chuckles, gesturing between us. “We go way back. Zen here was my sparring partner for a while—when he wasn’t sulking over his Karna Familia drama. I’m surprised to see you out and about with someone new. It suits you, though. You look…happier.”

I glance at Jihyo, catching her soft smile before she quickly looks away. “Yeah,” I say, scratching the back of my neck. “Life’s been better lately.”

Mina claps her hands together. “Okay, this reunion deserves lunch. My treat! There’s a great little place around the corner.”

At the tavern, we settle into a cozy booth, the smell of roasted meat and fresh bread wafting around us. Mina is seated next to Jihyo, while Lua sits across from me, her sharp eyes scanning the room like she’s always on duty.

“So,” Mina says, turning to Jihyo, “tell me everything. How are you holding up?”

Jihyo hesitates, then nods. “Better. Slowly. I’ve started taking on requests again, and Zen’s been helping me. Today was my first dungeon crawl in a long time.”

Mina’s expression softens. “That’s amazing, Jihyo. I’m so proud of you. I always knew you were the strongest of us. None of us could’ve done what you did back then.”

Jihyo blinks, surprised. “What do you mean?”

Mina leans back, swirling her drink. “You went back for Dahyun, even when everyone else was too scared. You stood up to Yamato and Amaterasu. That takes guts—more than any of us had. And now, here you are, rebuilding yourself. That’s strength.”

Jihyo looks down, her cheeks tinged pink. “I don’t feel strong. Half the time, I feel like I’m just…barely getting by.”

Mina reaches out to squeeze her hand. “That’s part of it, too. Strength isn’t just about winning fights; it’s about surviving when things get hard. And you’re doing that.”

Lua chuckles, breaking the serious moment. “Besides, it looks like you’ve got someone keeping an eye on you now.” She nods toward me, a sly grin tugging at her lips.

Mina catches on immediately, her eyes narrowing playfully. “Oh, I see it now. You’ve got a thing for Zen, don’t you?”

Jihyo’s face turns a vivid shade of red. “What? No! I—he’s just helping me, that’s all!”

Lua snorts, clearly enjoying the moment. “Sure, sure. Except I know for a fact that Zen liked you ages ago. Remember that Amaterasu Familia concert I dragged you to,Zen? You couldn’t stop staring at her.”

Now it’s my turn to blush. “Lua, I swear—”

Mina laughs, throwing an arm around Jihyo’s shoulders. “Well, looks like you two have more in common than I thought. Maybe fate’s giving you a second chance, huh?”

Jihyo buries her face in her hands, half-laughing, half-groaning. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

I sigh but can’t suppress a small smile. “You’re both impossible.”

Despite the teasing, the mood is warm and light. As we share stories and jokes over the meal, I notice how Jihyo’s shoulders gradually relax, her laughter coming more freely. Mina’s encouragement and Lua’s humor seem to lift a weight from her, and for the first time in a long while, she looks truly at ease. At some point during the lunch Jihyo's hand intertwines with mine and stays like this for the rest of the lunch date. The only reason I noticed is because Lua pointed it out.

As we part ways, Mina pulls Jihyo into one last hug. “You’ve got this, okay? Keep going. And if you ever need anything, you know where to find me.”

Jihyo nods, her smile genuine. “Thanks, Mina. That means a lot.”

As Lua and Mina disappear into the crowd, I glance at Jihyo. “You good?”

She looks up at me, her eyes bright with gratitude. “Yeah. I think I am.”

The moment we step into the Familia house, Izanami’s presence washes over us like a warm wave. Her radiant smile and boundless energy are impossible to ignore as she rushes toward us, arms wide open.

“Oh, my kids are back!” she exclaims, her voice dripping with saccharine affection. Before we can react, she pulls us both into a tight hug, squeezing us against her as if we’d been gone for months rather than hours. Her long, dark hair sways around us, wrapping us in the same comforting embrace as her arms.

I glance at Jihyo, whose face is a mix of amusement and mild embarrassment. She’s still not entirely used to Izanami’s enthusiastic displays of affection, but the slight smile tugging at her lips tells me she doesn’t mind.

After a moment, Izanami lets us go, her hands lingering briefly on our shoulders as she beams at us. “Now, go put that money in the Familia safe,” she instructs, her tone as doting as ever. “Then come back here so I can tally your experience. I’m dying to see how my little adventurers have grown!”

We do as she says, placing our earnings in the safe and returning to her. Izanami claps her hands together, practically vibrating with excitement. “Alright, Jihyo, you’re up first!”

Jihyo steps forward, and Izanami places her hands gently on her shoulders, closing her eyes as she channels her divine energy. A soft glow surrounds Jihyo, and Izanami’s smile widens.

“Oh, this is wonderful!” Izanami exclaims. “Jihyo, you’ve unlocked a new skill called Infinite Lullaby. It’s a songstress skill that can put enemies to sleep. Very powerful in the right situations.”

Jihyo’s eyes widen, and she covers her mouth in astonishment. “Really? I didn’t even know I could do that!”

“That’s not all,” Izanami continues, her tone brimming with pride. “You’ve also gained your first class skills: Summon Minor Plantfolk and Summon Familiar. How exciting! You’re growing so fast!”

Jihyo’s face lights up with a mix of pride and excitement. “Thank you, Izanami. I’ll do my best to use them well.”

“I know you will, dear,” Izanami says warmly, patting her cheek. “You’re becoming a formidable adventurer.”

Then it’s my turn. I sigh and step forward, pulling off my shirt as Izanami instructs. She takes her place behind me, her fingers tracing over the glowing symbols etched into my back. Her touch is gentle, but I feel the familiar weight of her divine scrutiny as she examines my growth.

Jihyo, now leaning against a nearby wall, watches with a proud smirk. I can feel her gaze, and I’m not entirely sure if she’s admiring my progress or just amused by the process.

Izanami hums softly as she works, her fingers lingering on certain points longer than usual. “Oh, weird,” she mutters, her brow furrowing slightly.

“What is it?” Jihyo and I ask simultaneously, both of us leaning slightly forward in concern.

“Hm, it’s nothing,” Izanami says, though her tone suggests otherwise. She tilts her head, still tracing the marks. “It looks like your skills are in flux.”

“In flux?” Jihyo’s voice sharpens with worry. “Is that bad?”

Izanami scratches her head, looking uncharacteristically puzzled. “Honestly, this is my first time seeing it. I’ve only heard about it happening in other Familia. Karna mentioned a few cases like this in his Familia, but I don’t know much else. All I can tell you is that it usually happens as a result of a perspective shift—a change in how you see yourself or the world. But beyond that, I’m stumped.”

I nod, trying to process her explanation. Perspective shift? I couldn’t think of anything specific that might’ve caused this, but the idea of my skills evolving… It’s both exciting and unnerving.

Izanami claps her hands together, her cheerful demeanor returning in full force. “Regardless, this is exciting! As your skills evolve, you’ll reach new heights as a hero. I can’t wait to see what’s in store for you!”

Her enthusiasm is infectious, but then she says the words I dread hearing.

“Oh, and by the way,” she says casually, as if she’s talking about the weather, “we’re going to be doing some work with Karna this week. He’ll be bringing Mordred and Megera along, so I need you two to be on your best behavior.”

I freeze, my entire body tensing. My face twists into a grimace, but thankfully Izanami is sitting on my back and doesn’t notice. Jihyo, however, sees everything. She glances at me, clearly fighting to keep her reaction neutral. Her lips press into a thin line, and I can tell she’s biting back a sharp comment.

“That sounds…great,” I manage to say, my voice strained.

Izanami hops off my back, completely oblivious to our discomfort. “It’ll be a good opportunity for everyone to work together! I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

After Izanami dismisses us with her usual cheer, I decide to slip away, needing a moment to process everything. The bathroom seems like a good enough place to retreat. I lean against the sink, staring at my reflection in the mirror. The faint glow of divine markings still lingers on my skin, a reminder of what I’ve become—or what I’m becoming. I splash water on my face, hoping it’ll clear the heavy fog of unease that’s settled over me.

The door creaks open behind me, and I instinctively glance up. Jihyo steps inside, her expression soft but resolute. She closes the door gently behind her and slides down to sit on the cool tile floor beside me. It’s like last night all over again, her quiet presence grounding me when my thoughts threaten to spiral.

“Hey, Zen,” she says softly, tilting her head to catch my gaze. “Are you okay?”

I shrug, sighing as I sink down beside her. “Um…not really. But I’ll figure it out, regardless.”

She watches me for a moment, her eyes filled with quiet determination. “Well, you don’t have to go it alone,” she acknowledges.

Her words carry a weight that catches me off guard. There’s no pity in her voice, just an unwavering belief in my ability to carry the burdens I don’t even fully understand yet. I manage a small smile and murmur, “Thanks, Hyo. I’m probably just overthinking.”

Jihyo shakes her head firmly. “No, not at all. You’re at risk, Zen. I don’t blame you for being worried. He nearly killed you. You’re right to feel uneasy.”

Her words hang in the air, and I nod slowly, processing them. “But that’s the weirdest part,” I admit, my voice quieter now. “I’m not anxious. My mind is…super clear. I have this weird feeling inside of me, and I don’t know what it is.”

Jihyo’s brows knit together in concern, but there’s a spark of curiosity in her gaze. “Oh? Really? Describe it.”

I hesitate, trying to find the right words. “It’s like…ever since I fought the dracolich, something in me has been changing. Like I’m becoming more detached from my humanity. And the strange part is, when I think about Mordred, it’s not pure malice I feel anymore. It’s…this weird, cold certainty. Like there’s a voice in my head saying, ‘Why worry about him? The next time you see him, he’s dead.’”

Jihyo’s lips press together as she processes my words. There’s a flicker of concern in her eyes, but it doesn’t overshadow the understanding I see there. “That does sound strange,” she admits, “but it also makes sense. After what you’ve been through…maybe your body and mind are trying to adapt, to protect you. But we should still make sure it’s nothing serious.”

I glance at her, my curiosity piqued. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” she says, her voice gentle but resolute, “tomorrow, before we leave for Karna, let’s get you evaluated by someone in the Morrigan Familia. They have some of the best doctors in Orario. If something’s really wrong, they’ll figure it out.”

The offer surprises me, but there’s a comforting sense of clarity in it. For all my strength, I’d forgotten that not every fight had to be mine alone. I nod, feeling a warmth I can’t quite name. “You know what? I’d like that. Yeah, let’s do that, Hyo.”

Jihyo beams at me, her smile lighting up the dim bathroom. It’s not just happiness I see there—it’s pride. She’s proud of me for trusting her, for leaning on her even just a little. The sight of it makes my chest tighten in a way I haven’t felt in a long time.

Without a word, she shifts closer, her shoulder brushing against mine as we sit side by side. The cool tile under us contrasts with the warmth of her presence. She leans her head lightly against my arm, her gaze drifting upward.

Together, we watch the stars through the small window above us. The silence isn’t empty—it’s full of unspoken words, shared understanding, and a growing bond that feels as natural as breathing.

I don’t say it out loud, but I realize something in that moment: if I’m losing my humanity, it doesn’t feel like it. Sitting here with Jihyo, her unwavering faith in me shining brighter than the stars, I feel more human than I have in a long time. Not weaker, but stronger—because of her, and because of the parts of myself she helps me see.

After bathing together again, Jihyo and I head to our separate rooms. I settle into bed, ready to drift off, but just as I close my eyes, the door creaks open. I glance up to see Jihyo stepping inside. Without a word, she hops into bed beside me, pulling my arms around her waist like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

I raise an eyebrow in question.

“It’s cold in my room, and you’re like a furnace,” she says matter-of-factly.

“Oh, okay,” I reply, unable to hide my smirk as sleep starts to claim me.

Jihyo hums softly as she drifts off, and I realize she sings in her sleep. Her voice, gentle and melodic, lulls me into one of the most peaceful rests I’ve had in months.

The next morning, I woke up feeling more rested and refreshed than I can remember. True to our plan, Jihyo and I head to the Morrigan Familia to seek answers about the changes in me.

The Morrigan Familia’s headquarters is an imposing structure, its dark stone exterior covered with intricate carvings of ravens, wings, and runes. As we step inside, an eerie stillness greets us, broken only by the occasional flutter of crows perched throughout the high rafters.

Before we can even introduce ourselves, she appears. The goddess Morrigan strides into the room, her presence immediately commanding. She is tall and lean, with striking, angular features. Her long black hair cascades around her like a cloak, shimmering faintly as if woven with starlight. Her sharp, amethyst eyes gleam with a knowing that seems to pierce through my very being. Draped in robes of deep purple and midnight blue, adorned with feathers and metallic accents, she looks both regal and otherworldly—a figure born of war and wisdom.

Her gaze falls on me first, then shifts to Jihyo. “You,” she says, her voice low and melodic, “and you.” She points at Jihyo. “Follow me.”

Jihyo and I exchange a glance but nod and follow her without hesitation. She leads us to a private examination room lined with alchemical equipment, books, and enchanted tools. Ravens perch on open shelves, their eyes gleaming with intelligence.

The Morrigan gestures for me to step forward, her eyes narrowing as she examines me with an intensity that makes my skin prickle. “Have you fought any ancient dragons in the last few years?”

I blink, startled by her abruptness. “Uh…I fought a Dracolich last year. Specifically, a grey one, if that matters.”

She nods sharply, her expression unreadable. “That explains it,” she murmurs before straightening. “Good news: you are not becoming a monster. Bad news: some Familias will not be happy with what’s happening to you.”

Jihyo tenses beside me, her worry evident. “What do you mean?” she asks, glancing between the goddess and me.

The Morrigan steps closer, her hands clasped behind her back as she circles me, her tone grave. “Your future lover,” she says, her gaze flicking briefly to Jihyo with a sly smirk, “has received one of the most statistically rare drops from an ancient dragon: a True King Skill.”

“A True King Skill?” Jihyo echoes, confused.

I frown, just as lost as she is. “What does that mean?”

The Morrigan stops her pacing and fixes me with a piercing stare. “True Kings were the rulers of this world long before the gods descended. Before the giants, before the titans—there were ancient wyrms, beings of immense power and intellect. These creatures wielded godlike abilities, their magic so potent it could reshape reality itself.

“When the gods and giants came, they saw the True Kings as threats and hunted them to extinction. Or so they believed. In truth, many fled to the massive megastructures we now call dungeons, their magic warping and shaping these labyrinthine realms. Over the eons, some of their descendants—dragons aged five to ten thousand years or more—began to transform into True Kings themselves, inheriting the power of their ancestors.”

She pauses, letting her words sink in before continuing. “When one of these True Kings is defeated, their slayer may receive a fragment of their power—a skill or ability intrinsic to their being. These are incredibly rare and coveted, as they carry the essence of the True King’s might.”

She steps closer, her sharp gaze locking with mine. “You, Zen, have received not just one, but a suite of these skills. It is a fate few mortals could even dream of, and it will reshape your destiny.”

Jihyo looks at me, her concern deepening. “What does this mean for him?” she asks, her voice trembling slightly.

“It means,” Morrigan says, her voice softening ever so slightly, “that his power will grow exponentially. But with that power will come attention—from gods, from monsters, from those who would seek to claim it for themselves. The world has a way of testing those it deems extraordinary.”

She turns to Jihyo, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “You’re smart to worry, but you’re also lucky. This one,” she gestures to me, “will need someone to remind him of who he is. Power has a way of eroding humanity—but with the right anchor, it can also elevate it.”

Jihyo reaches for my hand, her grip firm and steady. “I won’t let him lose himself,” she says with quiet determination.

The Morrigan chuckles softly, an amused glint in her eyes. “Good. Then perhaps he stands a chance.” She looks back at me, her expression turning serious again. “Your journey is only just beginning, Zen. Be ready—for both the blessings and the burdens of your newfound power.”

As Jihyo and I step out of the Morrigan Familia’s headquarters, the sunlight feels warm against my skin despite the chill in the air. I glance over at Jihyo, who looks contemplative but calm, her hand still loosely holding mine from earlier.

Before we can take more than a few steps, we hear a voice call out behind us.

“Jihyo?”

We turn to see a young woman rushing toward us, her bright, round eyes glistening with unshed tears. Her long white hair gleams in the sunlight, and the elegant cleric robes she wears—adorned with the Morrigan Familia’s emblem of a raven in flight—flutter as she runs.

Jihyo’s face lights up with recognition. “Dahyun?”

The next moment, Dahyun wraps Jihyo in a tight embrace, her emotions spilling over. “Oh my gods, it is you! I thought I’d never see you again!”

Jihyo laughs softly, hugging her back. “Dahyun, it’s been so long! Look at you—you’re all grown up now.”

“I could say the same about you!” Dahyun pulls back slightly, wiping her eyes and grinning. “I heard rumors you’d left Amaterasu Familia, but I didn’t know if you were okay. And now here you are! I’ve missed you so much.”

“I missed you too,” Jihyo replies warmly, her hand moving instinctively to my arm, gripping it lightly.

Dahyun’s gaze flicks to me, her curiosity piqued. “And who’s this?” she asks, her tone teasing.

“Oh, right!” Jihyo straightens up, her hand still lingering on my arm. “This is Zen. He’s part of Izanami Familia, like me. We’ve been… adventuring together.”

“Adventuring together, huh?” Dahyun’s eyes narrow playfully as she takes in how Jihyo’s hand hasn’t moved. “That’s one way to put it.”

Jihyo blinks, looking down at her hand and then at how close we’re standing. A faint blush rises to her cheeks, but she doesn’t move away. “What? We’re teammates. He’s just…warm, okay?”

“Uh-huh,” Dahyun says, smirking. “Sure, teammates.”

I scratch the back of my neck, unsure whether to laugh or defend myself. “It’s not like that,” I mumble, though I can feel Jihyo leaning slightly closer as if to silently contradict me.

Dahyun raises her hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright, I’ll stop. For now.” She grins and turns her attention back to Jihyo. “Anyway, you look amazing! What have you been up to?”

Jihyo launches into a summary of her time since leaving Amaterasu Familia, and Dahyun shares her own story. “After you left, I felt a little lost,” she admits. “But the Morrigan found me—literally. She saved me during a dungeon raid gone wrong and offered me a place in her Familia. Now I’m training as a cleric, and it’s been…incredible. Hard, but incredible.”

“That’s amazing, Dahyun,” Jihyo says, her voice brimming with pride. “I always knew you’d do great things.”

Dahyun beams at the praise. “It’s been a blessing. I’ve learned so much, and the Morrigan—she’s something else, isn’t she?” Her expression turns mischievous again as she adds, “But I’ve gotta say, I’m more interested in what you’ve been up to, Jihyo. Especially with him.”

Jihyo groans, her blush deepening as she finally releases my arm, only to cross her arms in mock annoyance. “You’re impossible.”

“I just call it like I see it,” Dahyun says with a wink. “But seriously, Jihyo, it’s good to see you happy. And Zen…” She gives me an appraising look. “Take care of her, okay? She deserves it.”

I nod, my voice steady. “Of course. I’ll do everything I can.”

Dahyun smiles, satisfied, before pulling Jihyo into another hug. “Don’t be a stranger, alright? And come visit me soon. I want to hear everything.”

Jihyo laughs and promises to stay in touch before Dahyun heads back into the Morrigan Familia.

As we walk away, Jihyo is uncharacteristically quiet, her gaze thoughtful. I nudge her gently. “What’s on your mind?”

She looks at me, her eyes soft. “Just…seeing her so happy. It reminds me that things can get better. That I can…move forward.” She hesitates, then smiles faintly. “Thanks for being here, Zen.”

I don’t know what to say, so I simply nod, letting the conversation with Dahyun and the memories it stirred simmer in my mind.

As Jihyo and I arrive back at our Familia home, the sun has started its descent, painting the sky in warm hues. The silence between us is comfortable until Jihyo breaks it, her curiosity bubbling up.

“Hey, Zen,” she starts, her voice light but inquisitive, “you said you fought a grey Dracolich about a year ago. That wasn’t the same Dracolich that was working with the lich Asteroth, was it?”

I glance at her out of the corner of my eye, trying to gauge how much she knows. “I don’t think so,” I reply casually, though I can feel her eyes on me. “But I do remember a lich being there during the fight. Honestly, I don’t remember much—I was pushing for level five at the time.”

Jihyo slows her pace, her brows knitting together as if piecing together a puzzle. “Wait…did you used to wear crimson plate mail?”

I chuckle, deciding to mess with her a bit. “Nope. Crimson half plate. Plate mail’s way too stiff—makes it hard to move, you know?”

Her steps falter, and her expression shifts from curious to shocked. Her mouth falls open as realization dawns. “Oh my god,” she exclaims, nearly tripping over her own feet. “You—wait, no. Zen, you saved me from the Dracolich!”

I shrug, trying to downplay it. “Maybe. My memory’s bad, and that might’ve been the day before I was attacked by Mordred,” I reply with a nonchalant tone.

She huffs and rolls her eyes, stepping closer to jab me lightly in the ribs. “Oh, don’t be so cool about it! You’re a hero, Zen. My hero.”

Her words catch me off guard, and I blink, unsure how to respond. The sincerity in her voice is undeniable, and the small smile tugging at her lips makes my chest feel warmer than usual. “I’m no hero,” I say firmly, though my tone softens as I glance at her.

She rolls her eyes again, but the grin on her face doesn’t waver as we step through the door.

Inside, we’re greeted by the sight of Mordred and Megeara standing in the foyer. Mordred looks up, his expression shifting from mild boredom to one of polite curiosity.

“Oh, Karna and Izanami just left,” Mordred explains as he steps toward us. His armor gleams even in the dim light, and his demeanor screams practiced charm. “They had some errands to run. You must be Jihyo and Zen,” he continues, extending a hand toward us.

I stare at his outstretched hand for a beat too long before waving it off. “Look, man, I know your stories and your reputation, Reaper,” I say, my voice sharp and cutting. “I don’t want to be your friend. I barely even want to team up with you, but I’m doing this because Izanami asked me to. So here’s how this is going to go.”

Mordred’s brow furrows slightly, but he keeps his smile plastered on.

“We’re going to do a five-floor romp through the dungeon, then leave. When we come back, we’re going to tell our gods it went well, and no one gets hurt. That’s it. No bonding, no camaraderie. Just business. Clear?”

Mordred blinks, momentarily stunned, but quickly recovers, the smirk returning to his face. “Well, I’m sure—”

I cut him off, raising a hand. “Ah, ah, ah. Zip it, Blood-Man-Sword-User. We’re not friends, and we’re not going to be. Jihyo and I are going to get packed, snag our supporter, and then head out. That’s the plan. Got it?”

Megeara, who’s been silent up until now, watches the exchange with an amused glint in her eyes. Mordred, clearly unaccustomed to being dismissed so thoroughly, nods stiffly. “Understood.”

“Great,” I reply with a sharp nod, turning to Jihyo, who’s trying—and failing—to stifle a laugh.

As we walk past them toward our rooms, Mordred calls out, his voice smooth but tinged with frustration. “You know, Zen, you might find me more tolerable if you gave me a chance. We’re not so different.”

I squint my eyes and stop in my tracks, clenching my fists. The audacity of the statement grates on me like nails on a chalkboard. I turn just enough to look at him over my shoulder, my voice low and cold. “We’re nothing alike. And you’d do well to remember that.”

Jihyo tugs gently at my sleeve, pulling me away before I can say anything else. As we walk up the stairs, she leans closer, her voice soft. “You handled that better than I thought you would.”

“Better than I wanted to,” I mutter.

She laughs lightly, her warmth chasing away the tension. “You’re such a furnace, Zen—hot-blooded and all. But hey, you’re my furnace.”

I glance at her, startled by her playful tone, and find myself smiling despite everything. “Well, at least I’m good for something.”

She shakes her head with a grin, her fingers brushing against mine as we head to our rooms.

[cherr-22]

TNGDH 33

Knock knock.

Kyle didn’t respond to the short, clear knock.

After counting to three inwardly, I entered the study. He was still sitting on the sofa as if he were ruminating on something for a long time.

The silence that engulfed the room seemed to represent his loneliness. I walked beside him and parted my lips.

“What are you thinking about?”

“……I said I would kill him.”

“Kill who.”

“My brother.”

Brother.

I felt bitter.

Kyle, Belial, and Lorenz spent their childhood at the palace together.

To say that their relationship back then was harmonious would be a stretch, but they didn’t really resent each other. It was only because of the problems between the adults. They must’ve spent their time together practicing their swordsmanship and blessing each other’s birthday.

But to say he’d kill him.

When did he say those words? And how did young Kyle feel as he said those words?

I didn’t know the story behind them, but perhaps that was why Kyle was chased to the North. Kyle, who was the child of a concubine named Jane, must have been a thorn in the eyes of the people in the palace.

I sat next to Kyle and watched him quietly. His expression was a mixture of regret and remorse.

“At first, I wanted to survive to show them. Show them that the world won’t always go the way they want it to. And I wanted to protest. Just because they want to get rid of something doesn’t mean it would be gotten rid of so easily. That was why I survived and survived and survived no matter what…….”

To him, there were no words more tiresome to hear than to survive. After all, human beings don’t survive just by breathing.

Eventually, we would have to eat, and when the sun falls down, we would go to sleep. When the temperature drops, we wear more clothes, and to be able to do anything, we need money.

That’s right.

This was why I liked Kyle in <Winter’s Heart>. His life after being driven out to the North resembled my own.

“…….”

I couldn’t say anything back to him. I felt that no words could measure the depth of sadness contained in his voice.

However, I knew that he had been lonely during all those times. It had been a loneliness colder and harsher than the North itself.

“……But I realized revenge isn’t everything. I realized this after a long time. Just because I have my revenge doesn’t mean I would become happy. I won’t be able to forgive the people of Duke Klein until the day I die, but I have no intention of devoting my life to revenge.”

Kyle looked straight into my eyes. His unwavering red eyes were more deeply embedded into my mind than ever before.

“……Why did you start to think that way?”

I barely managed to squeeze out my words.

I had to hear his thoughts.

The system clearly told me Kyle’s purpose was revenge. If he lived only for revenge, he would live a life where no one could ever point their fingers at him.

“I found something I love. Something I want to protect.”

His voice sounded sweet as he said that. His eyes were on me, as if he were saying it to me.

I felt myself getting hot and rubbed the back of my neck  while leaning against the armrest of the sofa.

“Still, I sometimes think that if I stop seeking revenge because of that, my mother’s death would become sad and unfair.”

The voice sounded sadder. I abruptly raised my head and reflexively opened my mouth.

“No! She would say you have done a good…….”

I couldn’t finish my sentence. Before I knew it, Kyle leaned towards me and wrapped one arm around my waist to pull me towards him.

My lips quivered as I continued.

“What do you think a parent would want for their child? It would obviously be for their happiness. They would say thank you for being born and for surviving………….”

I narrowed my eyes and closed my mouth. That was because the blurry image of the faces of my parents whom I can barely remember appeared in my mind.

What did their eyes and nose looked like, what kind of expression they made when they laughed, what their tone of voice was as they called my name. I couldn’t remember anything anymore, but I knew at least one thing.

I knew that they wished for my happiness. Rather than living in my uncle’s house and being exploited, and rather than accepting death so vainly, they would have hoped for me to lived in a more kind and gentle world.

A world where a person like Kyle would be in.

I stretched out my arms and hugged him. Then he hugged me back tightly by my waist.

“They would tell you that you did well. That you made the right choice to give up your revenge. That they hope you smile more tomorrow than you did today.”

“Strangely enough, when you put it that way it feels like what you said is true.”

I wasn’t sure if he was being sincere, but I somehow felt comforted myself by his words.

I let out a laugh and patted him a few times before trying to pull myself out from his embrace. I’ve been out of breath since earlier. Just how strong is he?

“……Umm.”

However, my waist was held tightly in his arms.

He seemed to have had no thoughts about letting me go, so I sighed and let him do as he wanted. Anyways, there was still some time left in ‘Summon’.

“If you don’t want to let go, please answer my questions. Was your revenge something like a rebellion?”

“That’s right. My mother was someone who was supposed to become Serena. However, she was falsely accused by Duke Klein and was forced to raise me on her own in the cold alleyways until her deathbed. I entered the imperial palace after her death.”

“……And you had no thoughts of taking the throne?”

“I’d be lying if I said I had no thoughts about it at all. But right now, I don’t. I’d rather have them take care of things like the throne themselves.”

Kyle spoke aggressively before toning down.

“This is my hometown.”

I understood what he was saying even without him explaining. How much he cared about this place and the people here. It was obvious even to me, an outsider.

It was the same in <Winter’s Heart>. Even though the land had nothing but steep cliffs and never-ending snow, the people were happier than those at the imperial palace.

‘……Then why.’

Why did it turn to treason in the original story? If what Kyle said was true, he would have given up on rebellion and lived with the people of this territory peacefully.

Was it also a trap made by Belial or Lorenz? Just thinking about one person was a headache, but with two, I don’t know what to do. Well, things will reveal itself over time. And besides, we won’t run into each other for a while.

After organizing my thoughts, I looked up at Kyle. I placed my hand on his shoulder and patted him.

“Then, let’s try to make your hometown grow a little more. Right now, the Blake estate is relying too much on Your Majesty.”

“……I can’t deny that.”

“There are a lack of trades and supplies are always tight. I honestly wonder how you grew it this much on your own.”

“……Hmm.”

“Anyways, even as a barren land where it is difficult to make a living, it is very isolated. If Your Highness is away for a long period of time, the people will be in danger.”

“You’re right.”

Kyle listened to my words seriously. Before I knew it, I was rambling in his arms.

“Let’s take it slow. First of all, it would be good for us to not be politically and economically isolated.”

For that, we need allies.

Kyle was capable but had a strong, single-minded personality. Of course, he had the bonds and strength of the people of the North, but it was only limited to the North.

‘I never saw him get along with the nobles outside the territory.’

So it would be easy to get cornered.

Thankfully, Kyle nodded his head. He listened to me carefully as if he agreed with me.

“It’s also important to figure out who was behind the attack on Belial. It should certainly not be one of your allies. We need to be careful in picking our allies, otherwise we might get betrayed and stabbed in the back.”

“Don’t they say the enemy of my enemy is my friend?”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not.”

“Is there anything you might know about?”

“……I’m not sure. It’s a secret.”

I was finally released from his embrace. Kyle stared at me suspiciously, but I ignored it.

“You are talking strangely.”

“I thought you’d pass it off.”

The system window displayed the 5 minute warning and I slowly prepared to return back to my room. I glanced at Kyle once and then at the hamster house once.

Then, I added one more word of advice.

“You must find out.”

“I understand.”

“Good. Then, I will get going…….”

“Where are you always disappearing off to? I never see you in the castle.”

“Don’t try to find out. You’ll only get hurt.”

I blurted out whatever response I could think of.

At this point, I was surprised at Kyle. Why was he keeping me close to him when my identity was unclear and when I never told him anything about myself?

Is it the trust in his people?

Or, is it because he truly cares about me…….

“……What nonsense am I thinking.”

I shook my head and headed for my room.

All the running on the hamster wheel finally showed its results. At the very least, I could run faster than during my previous life.

--------------------------------------------------------

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

[cartierre]

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 | 𝐜𝐥𝟏𝟔

��� I felt the highs and they felt like you See a love like mine is too good to be true And you too divine to just be mine You remind me of the color blue ❜

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐜 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ➫ lovers to strangers

warnings: angst, past relationships, mentions of a break up word count: 0.6k

(don't know how i feel about this but my impulsive thoughts won so now i'm publishing it)

Charles loved to think about you when time allowed him to. When he wasn’t occupied with racing, when there was no meeting, no party or gala to attend. 

It was during those quiet nights, those nights where he found himself spread out on his bed with thoughts clouding his mind that he kept coming back to you and his memories attached to your name, your face, your laugh… He didn’t look back to them with a sour taste staining his mouth, he looked back with a sad smile painting his lips. 

He tried overcoming those bittersweet thoughts with many different relationships he had in the past. He’s had multiple girlfriends ever since your break up, different girls warming his bed after a race like you used to, all of them beautiful in and out. 

Many would call him crazy that he still held onto a relationship which was meant to be fatal from the beginning. A relationship with no good ending attached to it. Sometimes he even found himself questioning his own feelings, the everlasting pain which by now had infused his whole being. He grew used to it and saw the agony as part of him.

And yet, a smile still played his gorgeous facial features every time your name pops up on his timeline, every time your beauty would grace his forest coloured eyes.

It was easy to blame you, too easy to paint you as the bad guy of everything, but Charles could never blame you for anything. His friends tried many times to convince him that you weren’t the one, that the love you shared wasn’t strong enough to withhold your differences.

They were all lies to sugarcoat the past events. He knew you were the one, the one he was supposed to love unconditionally and never let go of. The one to comfort him in the now lonely nights, the one to ease the pain. It was all too good to be true, too much of a fantasy to be reality.

He let you slip through his fingers. That’s the bitter part of it all. And now you were strangers. 

You didn’t really talk to him anymore and he respected your space and feelings enough to keep his mouth shut.

His fingers glided over the big sigil of the world on his cup. He was a champion, yet he didn’t feel like one. 

Charles always believed you’d be by his side when he’d be given the title. You were always the proudest of him, he could never miss the big smile and the beam in your eyes when he was up on the podium, regardless if it was for first, second or third place. 

Now that he had been on the highest podium, the one for world champions, he felt that the rush didn’t feel the same without you. The feeling which filled his chest as he held the cup for the first time was more similar to disappointment. Disappointed you weren’t there to share this moment with him.

He felt lonelier than ever before.

Right before he grabbed the handle to open the door, ready on his way to celebrate his win even if he didn’t feel like it, his phone in his pocket pinged with a message popping up on his screen. Pulling it out, he felt the world stop spinning for a second.

You: Congratulations, champ

[icebear4president]

Short angst fic I wrote in an hour!

Characters: Canada and America

Word count: 903

"He never loved me."

Matthew eyed the empty bottles thrown haphazardly across the room, and back again to his brother slumped against the wall. It was an unusual sight to say the least. Alfred didn't get drunk. Or least to the point where he was barely functioning. He had always been the more paranoid of the two, the one who talked about the dangers of letting his guard down.

It was sad in a way, really.

“He likes me, sure," Alfred continued, talking more to himself than anyone else. Matthew wasn't even sure he knew he was there. "Likes who I am, likes the man I turned out to be. Likes the idea of me as a son."

Matthew's eyebrows shot up in surprise at that. He thought his brother was talking about a friend, a lover maybe. Not...this.

"I think he liked raising me. I think he liked-" Alfred sighed, banging his head against the wall. "Liked the earlier days, being my big brother, liked how it felt not having to be alone anymore. Having someone to take care of, you know? I think he liked the thought of saving me from the same loneliness he felt or some other bullshit excuse like that."

Alfred nudged a piece of glass on the floor, idly swishing the liquid in his bottle back and forth. "I think he needs me, but I don't think he loves me."

What was the right response to that? 'Sorry you feel like that' or 'Grow up and stop whining about the past'? Both sounded right and horribly wrong at the same time. This was something deeper, deeper than Matthew could possibly understand He wasn't really sure how he felt about that.

Another thing Alfred and Arthur shared that he would never get to be a part of.

As for now, the only thing Matthew could really think was 'holy shit'. He'd always known Arthur hadn't really cared about him, or at least loved him deep enough, in a way that never had to have excuses for it to be known. But he'd thought...he'd thought if Arthur could find it in his heart to ever love anyone, that, well, it would be Alfred.

"But I can't hate him," Alfred said. "I mean, I love him. He's my dad. But he doesn't, doesn't, love me back."

Alfred finally looked up at Matthew, eyes glazed over, but still analyzing Matthew in a way that made him squirm. "Don't think he ever loved me back, but you. I think he loved you at some point. Maybe still does. You're Matthew after all. Sweet, wonderful, perfect Matthew, the golden child," Alfred spat. "Everyone loves you, and they hate me."

And suddenly Matthew's throat was so painfully constricted, he briefly wondered if he swallowed glass. It was unsettling seeing his brother look at him with so much anger, borderline hate. Except that wasn't right, it was Matthew who should be angry, not the other way around. Alfred didn't have that right. Alfred who had everything.

Right?

Ignoring his brother's internal turmoil, Alfred continued his rant no longer paying attention to him. "He loved that damned pedal stool, the one he put me on, show me off to the world as his best creation." Bitter smile hard with empty amusement, he raised a half-empty bottle. "Alfred Kirkland, best damn soldier there ever was."

Matthew wanted to sock him in the jaw, or flat out run away. He did neither.

Alfred tried to take another swig, but his hands didn't seem to want to cooperate with each other, and he fumbled with both hands until he dropped the bottle altogether. It was sad, really, to see him reduced to this.

And Matthew watched, helplessly, as his little brother started to cry.

"I just don't get it, Mattie." Alfred rubbed a hand against his eyes in an attempt to stop the tears. “Why doesn't he love me? What did I do wrong?"

Alfred was much, much too out of it to care about platitudes, which was a small mercy since Matthew had none to give. So instead, he sat on the floor besides his brother. And before he could even attempt the hesitantly reach out with an awkward one-armed hug, Alfred tipped over and slumped against him, clumsily grabbing at his jacket.

"I love you, Mattie," Alfred muttered into the fabric. "Love you so, so much, and I'm sorry Arthur doesn't love us."

Matthew wrapped his arms around him in what had to be the weakest, shittiest hug ever. He couldn't even remember a time when they'd properly hugged each other. They were more the type to insult each other, hit each other, or maybe awkwardly say they loved each other before conveniently having to leave at the same time.

"Hey," Alfred said, face brightening. "At least you got other people who love you. Got the whole world. Lucky, lucky you." He chuckled. "You're not the only one who wants to switch places."

Matthew choked on a laugh-sob. "Sure, Al, if you say so."

Alfred looked troubled for all of three seconds before he forgot his train of thought completely. "This jacket makes you comfy. Like a comfy leather couch. I'm gonna take a nap and you can't stop me."

"Okay," Matthew said, for lack of a better response.

It was only after he heard his brother's soft breathing that he let himself begin to cry.

[gojosmovingcastle]

i wan't you (he's so heavy) - satosugu

(angst angst angst how I imagine if suguru talked to satoru on the 24th of December in their seventeenth year. hint of y/n if you squint but platonic. I just wanna hold them and protect them from the world.)

☄. *. ☄⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ⋆☄. *. ☄☄. *. ☄⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ⋆☄. *. ☄

"I have become too comfortable with being alone." Suguru's words mixed with the warm air that left in the fog of the cold night.

"I was surrounding myself with people who made me feel horrible and I felt so broken and sick all the time. But, I couldn't stop...I don't know why, I would just keep calling them and going to bars with them after missions, even though on the other side of the phone I was becoming physically sick every time I heard their voice." 

Suguru couldn't make eye contract with Satoru as he spoke, so instead he continued to look out onto the endless road of street lights and snow.

"Consciously I knew to leave, but I was so afraid to have no one. And that it was better to surround myself with people who disgusted me. Even though it's completely hypocritical, because when I needed someone they weren't the ones I wanted help from. When I needed someone I wanted to come home, to Y/n, Shoko, to Nanami...to you." Suguru's hands were ice cold from the left over snow in the gutter that he couldn't help but run his hands over - no matter how dirty it was, it was cleaner than the curses he had been swallowing.

"Which makes me think, I wasn't even afraid of being alone...I was afraid of being comfortable with being alone, finding comfort in the loneliness and not letting anyone in ever again." Satoru's breath warped in the cold night, his usually bright eyes has deepened to a mournful blue.

"So when it happened," Suguru swallowed his pride as he looked to the dark sky, his eyes misting with painful memories.

"When I finally left on those missions alone, that is exactly what happened." All the air left Suguru's lungs, and his hands ran across the cold concrete, as if the hard icy path would sooth him.

"I became too comfortable with being alone. I stopped trusting people, I convinced myself that the world is full of horrible things. I created a fear inside of me for people, a fear that I never wanted to face or fix." Satoru looked to the only person he ever fully loved with knit eyebrows, and eyes full of pain and guilt. Pain Suguru went through this alone, guilt for not seeing it sooner.

But that was one thing about Suguru, he knew how to tie his theatre mask tighter than even the all known six-eye user himself.

"The funny part is, I didn't hate people at all." Suguru let out a bitter wet laugh.

"Every time I returned and saw the friends who did love me, I didn't feel lost, and I forgot about the comfort of being alone. But, when it came to going back on missions that following day, I felt the burden of my thoughts. And I couldn't tell those I love," Suguru fought the urge to look into Satori's eyes.

"And I couldn't let the ones the ones who loved me know about that." His hands clenched into fist. scrapping across the ledge of the curb.

"Not because I didn't trust them, they were the only ones left I trusted. Instead it was because I didn't want it to be fixed." 

Suguru faced his lap again, all the guilt of running away eating at him.

"I felt comfort in my sadness, in my loneliness of times someone finally understood me. I understood me, and no one could love me the way I was trying so damn hard to love myself." The fog around his dry and frost bitten lips grew with his heavy breaths, and any tear that had slipped had already dried and crystalized on his face.

"I never expected someone like you," Suguru's eyes finally landed on Satoru, but still not meeting his eyes, just his figure. "I was terrified of someone like you."

Satoru's breath caught in his throat as he was faced with the truth.

"Someone who broke through that loneliness that I had finally accepted. Someone who so easily said they cared and wanted to protect me. Someone I wanted to break down the walls for."

Suguru paused as his eyes finally came into focus with Satoru's features, with his burning stare. The fire in his eyes so hot they settles into blue flames.

"The indestructible walls that have lasted through every war around me...and within me." Suguru could feel the knot in his throat tighten as he held Satoru's gaze.

"I have no idea how to let you in..." The words sounded like an apology as they left Suguru's lips.

One he wanted to say but didn't know how. A yearning for Satoru to understand was whining at the back of his throat. "I don't know how to love you healthily."

"I want to give you all the love you deserve. I want to love you full and be able to fight about who didn't take out the trash, but I can't." His cracked lips shake as Suguru finally see Satoru's pained eyes through the mist. "My mind doesn't know how to love normally."

"Then love me abnormally." Satoru's eyes blinked slowly in his lover's direction. "Learn with me. Love me, hate me, yell at me, just promise to learn with me." His soft words of reassurance mixed with Suguru's pain in the thick cold.

"I would give up everything to learn how to love you the way you deserve to be loved." Suguru choked out, swallowing the yearning back to his stomach.

"I don't want you to give up anything," The black hair sorcerer felt the frosted haired mans cold finger tips graze his wrist as his hand settled next to mine. "I will probably love you just as bad." Satoru's usually bright laugh was airy to break the tension in his throat.

"I already do love you so very, very, unhealthily." Satoru had the softest smile settle on his chapped lips. "But, I also want to love you the way you deserve. I want to give you the love I have mistakenly neglected giving you for so long." Satoru tsk'd his own actions, biting his paled lips.

Reaching out, SAtoru finally laced his hand with the one he held so dearly, even if he didn't know how to show it. "So, we can learn together. We can create boundaries we've never put in place, we can create safe spaces we never thought we could experience - together we can love each other unconventionally." 

"I have lost everyone I ever loved, and I am not adding you to that list." Satoru said with a huff, causing the bitter air cloud to ward close to Suguru. Blue bright eyes held dark brown with a determination for love that neither never thought they would ever get to experience.

"Forgive how you may have loved in the past, forgive what it led to. I am here telling you thats it's ok to learn to love with me." Satoru pulled his lover to his chest. Holding him under the new snowfall and dull street lamp.

Satoru almost whispered, his lips grazing the dark hair that now pooled his collarbone. "The more you run and hide from this, from us, you will make it harder to learn in the future. And even if it's not with me, I want you to be able to love again someday."