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mononijikayu · 2 days ago

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forg_tful — fushiguro megumi.

“I think you must be the kindest grim reaper to ever exist.” you say suddenly, the words spilling out before you can stop them. Your voice is soft, worn out from the day, but it carries the weight of sincerity. Megumi raises an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Do you know any other grim reapers?” he asks, his tone laced with dry humor. You chuckle, a sound that feels lighter than it has in weeks. “No, not at all.” you admit, smiling despite yourself. “But I don’t need to. You’ve set the bar pretty high, do you know that?”

GENRE: alternate universe - grim reaper au;

WARNING/S: mythical beings and creatures, aged up megumi, heavy angst, romance, conflicted feelings, hurt/comfort, unhappy life, depression, illness, hurt, character death, mourning, loneliness, pain, humor, guilt, pining, conflicted relationship, emotional distress, grief, depiction of character death, depiction of illness, depiction of grief, depiction of complicated relationship, depiction of panic attack, depiction of loneliness, mention of grief, mention of illness, mention of loneliness, grim reaper! megumi, long suffering dying! reader;

WORD COUNT: 12k words

NOTE: when i was dabbling about what to post, i did a wheel of names and megumi won so here is another megumi fic. i was talking with @midnight-138 the other day and we got in this conversation about goblin, the kdrama. and there were grim reapers there. so i ended up writing about that here. i hope you enjoy it as much as i did!!! anyway, i love you all <3

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THERE IS A WONDER ABOUT HUMAN DESTINY. You heard a story about it then, at the orphanage. One of your carers would tell you about it often. How humans were born into this destiny in this new life after their old one.

And this life is determined by how good or bad that past life was. And that each and everyone must live a good enough life in each cycle, in order to have a good life in the next.

When you were a child, understanding this concept felt like a challenge. How could one’s destiny ever be decided just like that, by things you don’t even remember? Who gets to decide whether or not we are good?

Is good and bad easy to tell? You would ask the older kids at the orphanage this, and sometimes you caretakers. But they never seem to understand why you could not accept it as it is.

After all, you were a child. And a child would always find that ridiculous, you think. You were a child. You haven’t done anything wrong. Not to anyone. Not about anything.

You doubt you could have done something in your past life that should warrant any punishment. You were someone people knew to be a good kid, you always have been. People looked at you warmly, ever so kindly.

But now you can only say that you know better. You have grown up. You had seen the truth. And it was not good, it was ugly and rotten. It was a tragedy. And you hated it. You hated everything about it.

Because your past life, your past self — they might have been a terrible person. They must have been the worst of the worst. Because, if you weren’t, then what justifies that sad suffering? That painful existence you had lived up until now.

You sighed heavily, taking in the whiff of bitter antiseptic, that artificial fragrance. You like to think you’ve been cursed to live a sad life. And today was just another proof of it.

Every thought of it just lingers like a familiar shadow, whispering in the quiet moments when you’re too tired to fight back. It’s easier to believe in curses than coincidences, easier to pin your pain on something cosmic than accept a world so indifferent.

You were an orphan, after all. Not in the storybook sense where miracles come to those who wait, but in the raw, unvarnished truth of it. Alone from the start, without a name to cry out to when the nights felt endless.

There was no mother to call for warm hugs, there was no father to give you reassurances. Just that cold metal bunk bed, which creaks at night as you twist and turn and the dark moonless nights.

You were passed from one place to another, faceless in a system that churned endlessly, always one more lost child than it could handle. You kept being told that it wasn’t that because you were unlovable, that’s what they always said.

But it was just that they found out what love looks like when they look at someone else, at another child that they think fits in their family. That was just how they felt they said, that was just their truth. And it shouldn't be personal.

You learned early on that love wasn’t guaranteed, that kindness wasn’t free, and that your worth was measured by how little trouble you caused. And just like that you grew up in that orphanage, being your own parent, being your own mother and father, your own sibling. Your own family.

When the kids at school found out, they immediately latched onto it. The teasing started small, barbs disguised as jokes, but it grew sharper, crueler. Just as the years dragged on, they had grown to be even crueler, even more vicious about being someone like you.

Even as you started to have your own life and slowly became an adult, you found that people would never think to give you anything. You had expectations at one point that people would be more understanding. That they would give you more grace about it.

But you would find yourself broken up over by your significant other because their mother didn’t like that you had no one in your family. Well, their mother never liked you from the beginning.

They thought you were difficult and had no manners, all because you never had a family, no parents to teach you all the things that would make a good person.

You would find yourself having friends and then getting into fights with them when you couldn’t show up for them at times, because you had to work multiple jobs to get through college.

Or how you couldn’t hang out with them because you had to take another shift for extra cash for your rent. They would say, what would be the need of you if you can’t be there?

Over time, you found yourself isolated from the world. No matter what you did, you found yourself alone. You found yourself unable to please people, unable to keep people. Unable to attain happiness or peace in this life. And over time too, you stopped expecting anyone to step in. You stopped expecting anything at all.

You’ve had a rough life—that’s what they’d call it, isn’t it? A neat little phrase to gloss over the thorny, jagged edges of this existence. It was as if that phrase could capture all of the nights spent crying into your pillow, the gnawing hunger for connection, for someone; the sense that the world moved on without ever noticing you.

And somehow, your misery can only continue.

It started with little things, barely noticeable at first—a name you couldn’t recall, a face that seemed familiar but unplaceable. Then it got worse and worse as time went by. Days lost to a haze of things you couldn’t explain, moments slipping through your fingers like water flowing downstream.

You didn’t wanna worry about it that much in the beginning. Maybe you’ve been working too hard. You’ve taken so much work these past few weeks. And maybe you had forgotten to eat anything.

You had a sensitive stomach, after all. Maybe that’s what has been causing the fatigue and the headache. Maybe the headaches are the reason you’ve been forgetting a lot of things. Yeah, that’s what it could be.

Yet, it just never went away. Even with the lifestyle changes, even when you would cut back on work to take care of yourself and rest. Nothing had changed. In fact, the pain had only gotten worse.

And more and more, you would find yourself forgetting things more and more. At one point, you had cried so much after forgetting which street you lived on after work.

You had felt your head spinning, your vision went on a blur and that night lamp began to burn against your eyes. Your breath labored over and over, and you had tried to get it controlled — but you couldn’t. Tears fell even more as you leaned against the lamp post. You felt like you were going to collapse.That you were going to throw up on the floor.

It took some time for yourself to regain some control, you knew that much. You just stayed there, letting the tears fall. You still didn’t remember where you had lived. You were forgetting it all. And that frustrated you to no end. You knew then that this can’t continue happening. That this cannot continue on.

That’s why you came here in this godforsaken place known as the hospital. You’ve always hated hospitals. It was such a terrible place. Even as a child, getting your check–ups with the other orphans terrified you. Nothing about this place spells any good. You were already with bad luck, with such a terrible destiny in this life and you didn’t want it to continue.

But you cannot control destiny, not ever.

You could only control yourself.

And even that, you cannot have control.

Not anymore, not ever again.

The doctors confirmed it: a rare, terminal illness. Brain cancer, in its final stages. Not only was it going to kill you, it was going to take everything that made you along with it.

Your memories, no matter how horrible, your identity, no matter how empty, your self, no matter how broken. All of who you are — you'd fade away in pieces, becoming a hollow shell long before your body gave out.

You thought the universe had no more ways to hurt you.

But you knew you were wrong, from the very beginning.

And then, on a night when the weight of it all felt unbearable, you saw him.

He wasn’t what you expected. No black cloak, no skeletal frame, no cold, lifeless eyes. The grim reaper was... human. Or at least, he looked that way. His dark colored hair fell in soft, dark strands over his forehead, his clothes unassuming—a rather plain and boring suit, even.

But there was something in his presence, a quiet intensity, that made your heart skip. His blue-green eyes, sharp and unreadable, pinned you in place, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe.

“Who are you?” you asked, though deep down you already knew.

He studied you in silence for a moment, as though deciding whether you were worth an answer. Your eyes narrowed at him, as though trying to make sure that this isn’t just your brain making a mess of you. But he wasn’t. He was very much real. He was very much here. Finally, he spoke.

“Megumi.” he said. His voice was calm, steady, but there was something beneath it—something you couldn’t quite place. You hadn’t expected that from a grim reaper. You had expected something more rough. Something more….grim.

“Is that all?” you pressed, desperation clawing at your throat. You wanted—no, needed—to know more. Why him? Why now? Why couldn’t you just be left alone?

“That’s all you need to know about me.” he said simply.

His words were a wall you couldn’t scale. No matter how hard you tried, you knew there would be no answers, no explanations, no mercy. At least not until you were dead. You sighed, leaning against the bench.

This was it. The final countdown was coming soon. There was no escape. Yet, as the silence stretched between you, a strange feeling took root in your chest. Not comfort, not exactly. But something close. It was at least something. And for once, you weren’t alone.

You didn’t know what this grim reaper, this Megumi, was meant to be to you. What was he? Was he a guide, a witness, a judge? You didn’t know. And perhaps it was easier not to ask questions, to not know.

But as you continued to sit there, staring at the one who would carry you to your end, a thought crossed your mind. At least he wasn’t judging you. At least he was just there, waiting. He was calm as can be, quiet and without any grievances towards you.

Perhaps, maybe — at least he wasn’t as cruel as life has been. You began to think to yourself as you closed your eyes about one thing. Maybe if he was here, then maybe the end wouldn’t be so lonely after all. Maybe there will finally be some sense of peace at the end.

You opened your eyes, your lips seeping into a small smile. “I look forward to meeting my end with you.”

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AS THE TIME GOES BY, HE WAS WITH YOU IN EVERYTHING. No one else around you could feel or see him the way you do. And he couldn’t go anywhere else. He was bound to you, until he could take your soul away and bring it with him. So, Megumi continued to watch over you as you continued to live your life, or at least what remains of it.

At first, his presence unnerves you. You weren’t used to this, being watched so closely almost everyday and every hour — especially with what remained of your miserable life. But slowly you found yourself getting used to him being around. And at the very least, he still gave you space when you did things that required privacy.

Otherwise, he’s always there, quiet and still, like a shadow you can’t shake. And as the days stretch into weeks, you begin to realize that he isn’t all bad. He does talk, sometimes. At least when he thinks you do something worth giving a response about.

He was truly quite reserved and serious half the time, yes, and almost cold in the way he speaks and carries himself, but there’s something beneath it. It wasn’t easy to notice at first, because it was ever so subtle. It was as if he never wanted anyone to notice that there was something soft within that hard exterior of his.

Megumi didn’t seem to fit his job description—not at all. He was patient in a way you didn’t expect from a reaper. From what you’d gathered from folklore and stories about grim reapers, you imagined something far more ominous.

Shadows and sickles, maybe even whispers of death. But Megumi? He had a quiet presence that felt nothing like the foreboding figures you’d pictured.

When your mind betrays you, when a memory slips through your fingers like grains of sand, Megumi is there. He doesn’t judge the gaps, doesn’t rush you to remember. Instead, he catches the loose ends with an ease that seems effortless.

Sometimes, it feels as though he’s more of a guide than a harbinger, steering you gently through the storm of forgetfulness. His voice is steady, grounding. His gaze is understanding, never invasive.

There’s a calmness to him, a patience that wraps around you like a soft cocoon. It’s disarming. You wonder how someone charged with ferrying souls could be so tender. Yet, when you look at him, you see no malice, no hint of the cold indifference you expected. Just the faintest trace of weariness in his eyes, as if he’s carried too many burdens that aren’t his own.

Sometimes, you forget who he is. And in those moments, Megumi doesn’t correct you. Instead, he lets you speak, lets you ramble, and when the memory comes back, when you remember why he’s here—he doesn’t revel in the grief.

He simply nods, a quiet acknowledgment that this, too, is part of the process. He’s not here to rush the inevitable; he’s here to make sure you don’t face it alone.

“Your nurse’s name is Alice, by the way.” Megumi says again when you struggle to introduce yourself.

You could feel your mouth fumbling over syllables that don’t quite fit together. Your cheeks feel red at the thought, now remembering as she smiled at your direction. You waved at her. His voice is calm, steady, like he has all the time in the world to wait for you to find your footing. You blink at him, your thoughts swirling too fast to make sense of.

“Huh?” you finally ask, the confusion thick in your tone.

“She takes care of you in the mornings. Alice always makes sure to bring your meds with water, no ice.” he says, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world to know. “You told her once that cold water hurts your teeth, so she makes sure to bring you water without ice.

You glance down at your hands, unsure of what to say. His eyes felt warm against your own as you nodded slowly at him, trusting his words. Those details feel foreign to you, like a story you heard about someone else. But his words fit, even if you can’t remember saying them. They were warm, they felt truthful.

“Oh.” you mumble with a small smile. “Thanks.”

He looks away from you. “No problem.”

Later, in the cafeteria, you sit in front of a tray of food that feels unfamiliar. Your appetite is as absent as the clarity of your thoughts. You stare at the carton of apple juice, its horrifically bright label somehow irritating, though you can’t pinpoint why at all.

“You liked orange juice better than apple.” Megumi says, breaking the silence. He gestures toward the carton with a small nod. “That one’s your favorite. Not too sweet, not too sour.”

The simplicity of the statement hits you like a lifeline, tethering you to something concrete. You pick up the carton, turning it in your hands before setting it back down. You smiled at him again, but this time almost a mix of relief and embarrassment. You were relying on your grim reaper to remind you of everything, now more than ever.

“Thank you.” you say again, a little louder this time, just enough for him to hear.

The two of you sit in silence for a while before you decide to pull out the small notebook you’ve been keeping. Your doctor suggested it as your brain got even sicker. You needed to remember something and so this notebook, it was your place to track your thoughts before they disappear entirely.

You scribble furiously, trying to make sense of the jumble in your head. You’re working on a sentence about feeling forgetful, but the words tangle together, your handwriting messy and uneven. You pause, staring at it. Something feels wrong. Something feels off. Your face contorts, your eyes narrow at the page.

“You missed an E.” Megumi says softly, leaning over to glance at the page.

He doesn’t reach for the notebook, doesn’t try to take it from you. Instead, he taps the spot with his finger, just enough to draw your attention. Your eyes blinked. Sure enough, forgetful is written as forgtful. You bite your lip, heat rising to your cheeks as frustration bubbles up.

“I—I know that, you know?” you say defensively, though the truth is you hadn’t noticed until he pointed it out.

He doesn’t laugh or tease you. “It happens, don’t worry.” he says simply, his tone free of judgment. “You caught it now. That’s what matters.”

You glance at him, expecting pity, but his stoic expression is as steady as ever, like this moment isn’t something to dwell on. You pierce your lips in a tight line. You carefully picked up your pen again, correcting the error with a shaky hand.

“Thanks for telling me.” you mutter, embarrassed but grateful.

“You were talking about your favorite teacher, earlier.” he reminds you a little while later, after your thoughts derail mid-sentence.

You’d been telling him about a memory. It was a rare one, where everything about it was good. It was such a warm, fuzzy one that had felt so clear in your mind just moments ago—but now it’s slipping away, leaving you grasping at straws.

You look at him, feeling lost. “I... was?”

“You were.” he confirms with a small nod, his tone encouraging. “You said they were the first people to notice how much you liked writing. You were just getting to the part about their funny laugh.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s right!” you whisper, the thread of the memory slowly weaving its way back into focus. “Right. Mr. Greene. He laughed like a seagull.”

Megumi doesn’t laugh at the description, but his lips twitch in what might be the ghost of a smile. That was a rare thing, you knew that. But you like to think that maybe, just maybe, if he tried — he would look even better when he smiled. He already has a handsome face, you knew that. But maybe, his smile, it would make it even better.

“That’s it.” he says, his voice carrying a quiet kind of approval.

It’s small, these moments of clarity he gives you, but they feel monumental in a life that’s slowly crumbling. For a moment, you feel like you’ve reclaimed a small piece of yourself, and you can’t help but glance at him, wondering how someone like him, a reaper, of all things can make you feel more alive than you have in a long time.

You can’t help but admit it but he was your first true friend.

He was your longest companion to boot, with that.

And perhaps, he will be the only constant you’ll ever have.

But maybe he already knew that and he just doesn’t tell you.

He accompanies you often, especially in the long, quiet hours spent tethered to hospital machines. The hum of monitors and the rhythmic drip of IVs become a backdrop to his steady, unobtrusive presence. At first, you think he’s only there to observe, to do whatever grim reapers are supposed to do as your life ticks away.

But the longer he stays, the more you realize he’s keeping you company at every appointment. Keeping you from being so alone. Even if it was his job, he could wait elsewhere. But he sits beside you, in an empty chair no one dares sit at.

And he stays, throughout each and every appointment. Appointments which barely keep you alive. It was only a matter of time before he had to deliver your soul to wherever it had to be.

You started to wonder if he’ll think about this time with you too. If he will find this moment to be something that will cross his mind once this job, you, were done and gone.

It’s strange, this relationship you’ve fallen into. He doesn’t talk much unless prompted, not unless you forgot something or need anything. But you like to think that you could start to rely on his silence. Especially when doctors and nurses give you all those complicated jargons that you didn’t even need.

It fills the void in a way words can’t. When you’re too tired to make conversation with visitors, when there are visitors, probably motivated by guilt or necessity, your grim reaper Megumi is there. Unfailingly, he would be sitting by your bedside, his gaze steady, his presence grounding. As though he wants to give you strength to deal with it all.

But of course, as you already know, no one else can see him. Just you. At first, you tried explaining him to the nurses, the doctors, or when you felt like talking about something you knew he would listen to — but the looks they gave you were enough to stop. They chalked it up to the illness, the stress, or the medications.

But Megumi is real. You know he’s real. The way he moves, the way he seems to sense your thoughts before you speak them, the way he exists on the edges of your life without ever intruding.

The way a glint in his eyes would appear warmer than before. He was here. He was there with you. You weren’t going crazy. And he knew that too. He was the only one that knew that.

One day, in the suffocating stillness of the hospital ward, you finally ask him the question that’s been gnawing at the edges of your mind. The pale light filtering through the blinds casts long shadows on the sterile white walls.

And the quiet hum of distant monitors feels unbearably loud. You shift uncomfortably in your bed, clutching the thin blanket as if it could anchor you to something solid.

“Why are you here?” The words escape your lips before you can stop them. Your voice is quiet, hesitant, but the question feels monumental, breaking the fragile peace between you.

Megumi doesn’t look surprised. He’s seated in the chair by your bed, one leg crossed over the other, his posture as calm as always. His gaze lifts from the book he’s been reading, something he always seems to have in his hands.

Though you’ve never seen him get past the halfway mark. He seems to be carrying it as though it was a prayer book he was forced to hold at a sermon at church.

“To watch you.” he says simply, his tone neutral. There’s no elaboration, no attempt to soften the starkness of his answer. As though it was almost like his words were that of fact. You furrow your brow, confused.

“I know that….But why? Why do you keep on watching me this closely?” you press, the weight of his presence suddenly more tangible. He isn’t like the nurses or the doctors who flit in and out of the room. He doesn’t belong here—not in the way they do.

“Are you uncomfortable about it?”

You blinked at him, your mouth agape for a moment. “N–no.”

“Okay, then. I’ll continue on doing what I want.”

You didn’t speak for a moment. You like to think that it was all you were going to get from him. So you just sighed, leaning against your hospital bed and closing your eyes. This was the most he’d ever talk to you, and perhaps the longest. That could be a win, right?

“For you.” He spoke again, as though he couldn’t handle the silence between you.

“For me?” you echo, your voice almost a whisper. The words feel foreign, as though they belong to someone else. “What does that mean?”

He tilts his head slightly, considering your question. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes—an emotion you can’t name. Not pity, not detachment, but something softer. “Does my reason matter?”

“You have me curious now.” You whisper to him, letting out a small laugh. “What was your reason?” you ask him again.

Though deep down, you think you already know. The thought lodges itself in your chest, sharp and unwelcome. Megumi doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped loosely together. His gaze holds yours for some time, steady and unwavering.

“I made a promise I’d like to keep.” he says finally, the words carrying a gravity that makes your breath hitch.

“What promise?”

His eyes narrowed at you, almost as though it was full of hurt. “You don’t want to know.”

The suffocating stillness of the room presses down on you, but somehow, his presence feels like a small crack of light breaking through the weight of it all. You want to ask more—how he knows, why he cares, but the words catch in your throat, tangled in the storm of your thoughts.

It’s such a brief answer, yet it lingers with you long after the words fade. There’s no pity in his voice, no judgment, just a quiet truth that settles like a blanket over your weary mind. And in some inexplicable way, that’s enough.

So, instead you nod, a small, almost imperceptible gesture. It’s not acceptance, not yet, but maybe it’s the beginning of it. And Megumi, patient as ever, doesn’t push for more. He simply stays, his quiet presence a reminder that, whatever happens, you won’t face it alone.

Over time, Megumi’s presence becomes less foreboding and more… comforting. If someone told you a grim reaper could be anything close to a friend, you would’ve laughed. But now? You’re not so sure.

He still doesn’t talk much, but the moments he does are starting to feel less like obligations and more like. Well, like he cares. His dry humor catches you off guard sometimes, a quiet chuckle slipping from his lips when you grumble about hospital food or tell him a ridiculous story from your childhood that you’re shocked you even remember.

“They let you keep a pet fish in third grade?” he asks one day, his eyebrow quirking ever so slightly.

“Let me? No, I smuggled it back to the orphanage.” you reply, puffing your chest out like it’s something to be proud of. “Named him Mr. Bubbles. He lived in a mason jar by our shared windowsill until one of the staff found him.”

Megumi gives you a sidelong glance, and for a second, you think he’s about to scold you. But instead, his lips quirk into the tiniest smile. “Mr. Bubbles, huh.” he repeats, almost to himself, and the sound of it in his voice makes your chest feel light.

He’s always a comfort in the painful days of longevity treatments. You were getting even worse, not even the precious medication was working. Megumi was the one to urge you to continue, even if they were never going to do anything for you.

After all, he was here for a reason. Nothing was going to help. And yet, he still insists that having more time is better than having little.

This time, you like to think you could agree with him. With more time, you could continue to have Megumi by your side. You could continue to have conversations with him.

You could continue to see his small ghostly smiles and find him sitting there beside you, looking through pages of that book he never reads. You could have more time living, experiencing some good in your life – a good that was waiting on death’s door.

Sitting in the chair beside you, his legs crossed casually, as though he’s simply there for the ambiance and not because you’re hooked up to an IV that feels like it’s siphoning the life out of you. Sometimes, you fall asleep mid-session, and when you wake up, you find him sitting exactly as he was, as if not a single moment has passed for him.

“I wasn’t sleeping at all.” you insist groggily one day, blinking the drowsiness away. “How could you even know I was sleeping at all? I know, it’s my body!”

“You were drooling.” he counters flatly, gesturing toward your chin. “Look, it’s still there in the corner of your lips.”

You hurriedly swipe at your face, heat rushing to your cheeks. “I was not!”

His expression doesn’t change, but you swear there’s a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. He could be a trickster when he wants to be. He could be silly from time to time. And funny enough with that dry humor that you could cry tears as you laugh so hard at what he says.

Despite his initial stoicism, Megumi starts picking up on your quirks, learning the things that make you smile. And most days now, especially now with these horrible and miserable treatments, you looked forward to them.

Like the time he noticed you doodling on the edge of your treatment log and, the next day, casually handed you a pack of gel pens. Your face conforms to a confused daze as you look at him and then at the gel pens in your hand. There were so many that you don’t even think you could count them.

“How the hell did you get this, Megumi?” You asked him, your eyes narrowing at him. “Why are there so many?”

“They were free.” he said, refusing to meet your eyes as you stared at the colorful bundle in awe.

“From where?” you asked, skeptical at his response to you.

“Places.” He still wasn’t looking at you.

“Megumi.” you drawled, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Do you want the pens or not?” he huffed, crossing his arms in a way that made him look surprisingly boyish. “They’re really good too. I tried them downstairs. And they’re free. What? Is the security going to look at your bag when you leave? This isn’t a mall, you know.”

You looked at him for a moment, dumbfounded at his sudden ridiculous tirade. Then slowly, your tummy rumbled as you laughed and laughed. The notion of it all was silly. Still, you were entertained by it. Megumi seemed glad that you laughed. And that you went along with all of it.

You took the pens, of course. You put them in your bag after he handed it to you. No one checked it and for the rest of the day, you tried them and made little doodles with them on your notepad at home. And that day, for the first time in a long time, you felt genuinely happy.

As much as Megumi claims he’s only there to “watch” you as part of his job, you found that it’s obvious he’s doing more than that. He’s doing the most out of all grim reapers you like to think.

Of course, you don’t know any other grim reapers. And you doubt you’d look sane if you tried to bring it up to another dying person. But your grim reaper, at least you, was the kindest.

As you settle into bed, the hospital room bathed in the faint glow of a bedside lamp, you glance over at Megumi. He’s sitting in his usual chair, arms folded loosely, his expression calm but watchful.

It’s become routine now. His quiet presence is a constant that you’ve come to rely on, though you’d never admit it outright.

“I think you must be the kindest grim reaper to ever exist.” you say suddenly, the words spilling out before you can stop them.

Your voice is soft, worn out from the day, but it carries the weight of sincerity. Megumi raises an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Do you know any other grim reapers?” he asks, his tone laced with dry humor.

You chuckle, a sound that feels lighter than it has in weeks. “No, not at all.” you admit, smiling despite yourself. “But I don’t need to. You’ve set the bar pretty high, do you know that?”

He doesn’t respond, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—amusement, maybe, or perhaps a glimmer of gratitude he’d never put into words. His lips purse into a flat line, as he looks at you. You could tell that there’s something in his green–blue orbs that you couldn’t read. But you knew better than to ask.

“Thank you, Megumi.” you say after a moment, your voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

“For what?” he asks, his gaze steady on you.

“For being the first good thing in my life.” you say simply, your chest tightening as you force the words out.

It feels strange to say, especially to someone like him. You know you shouldn’t be thanking the person meant to take your soul, the one who will guide you into the unknown. But it feels right. You swallow hard, looking away for a moment before meeting his eyes again.

“I know it sounds ridiculous. Thanking a grim reaper. But I mean it. You were... the kindest thing in my destiny. And I think that’s enough to be happy about.”

Megumi doesn’t say anything right away. He doesn’t need to. The faintest nod of his head, the subtle softening of his usually stoic expression, is answer enough. The weight in your chest eases as you let your head sink into the pillow. Your eyelids grow heavy, and you fight to keep them open just a little longer.

“Goodnight, Megumi.” you murmur, your voice trailing off as sleep begins to take hold.

“Good night.” he says softly, his voice carrying a gentleness you hadn’t expected.

As your breathing slows, becoming steady and rhythmic, Megumi stays where he is, his gaze fixed on you. And he knows. He just knows—it’s time. Your time. The moment hangs in the air, heavy and bittersweet, but he doesn’t flinch.

This was always the inevitability, but watching you now, peaceful and free from the fear that had once gripped you, he feels something akin to relief. Perhaps even a quiet sadness.

When the time comes, Megumi will be there, as he always has been. For now, though, he lets you rest, a faint sense of solace settling over the room.

══════════════════

IF HE WAS BEING HONEST, THIS MISSION WASN’T EVEN FOR HIM TO TAKE. Megumi didn’t choose this assignment at random. No, not at all. That morning began like any other in the sterile monotony of his existence. The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead, casting a pale glow on the rows of cubicles where reapers sat, reviewing their tasks for the day.

He’d been staring at the dregs of his coffee, debating whether he had the energy to bother getting a fresh cup, when the assignments for the day appeared on the board—a mosaic of names, dates, faces.

He’d glanced up, disinterested at first. It was just another day in an endless cycle of endings. Souls came and went, and reapers like him did their jobs, guiding them to whatever came next. There was no time for attachment, no reason to linger on a single name or face.

But then he saw yours.

And everything stopped.

His coffee cup slipped from his fingers, shattering against the floor in a muted crash. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe. He blinked once, twice, as if his eyes might be playing tricks on him. But no matter how many times he looked, it was unmistakable.

It was you.

Your face stared back at him from the board, frozen in a candid snapshot. It was a face he knew better than his own, even after all this time. A face he’d never forgotten, not even through lifetimes of distance.

It had been so long since he’d last seen you. Lifetimes ago, you had been more than just a part of his world—you had been his world. The memories were fractured and blurred at the edges, but they still burned vividly enough to hurt.

He remembered your laugh, bright and unrestrained, echoing through a life that had otherwise been far too short. He remembered the way you had looked at him, your gaze full of trust, full of hope.

He remembered losing you.

And now here you are again, pulled into this cycle of life and death that neither of you could escape. But this time, you were already dying. You were going to go and suffer again, and there would be no one to save you. He couldn’t stop it last time. And now, he cannot stop it this time. It was set in stone already.

And yet, his heart breaks over and over again. You were barely more than a child, younger than either of you had been in your shared past life. You hadn’t even been given a chance to live, and yet the world had decided it was already time to take you away.

Megumi’s heart ached in a way he hadn’t thought possible anymore. He was a reaper. He wasn’t supposed to feel like this. He wasn’t supposed to feel anything. But as he stared at your photo, the weight of it all crushed him.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that you’d been taken from him once, and now it was happening all over again. This time, there would be no miracles, no last-minute reprieves. He knew that. He’d seen it a thousand times in other lives.

But he couldn’t just let you go alone.

Without thinking, he rose from his chair, his movements mechanical as he walked toward the board. Each step felt heavier than the last, his resolve hardening with every breath. When he reached your name, he stared at it for a long moment before finally speaking.

“I’ll take this one.” he said, his voice quiet but firm.

The room went silent. Assignments weren’t supposed to be chosen; they were distributed at random to avoid any emotional entanglements. Reapers were meant to be impartial. But no one questioned him. Megumi rarely spoke, rarely asked for anything. If he wanted this assignment, there had to be a reason.

As he returned to his desk, your face still fresh in his mind, he made himself a quiet promise. He couldn’t save you. The rules were clear. Your fate was already written, and nothing he did could change that.

But he could be there. He could make sure you didn’t have to face the end alone, that you wouldn’t have to feel the crushing loneliness he’d once felt when he lost you before.

Even if you didn’t remember him. Even if you didn’t know that in another life, you had been his entire world. He would carry that pain for both of you. Because this wasn’t just another assignment. It was you. And losing you again, even knowing it was inevitable, would be the cruelest fate of all.

When Megumi first appeared to you, he knew he had to keep his emotions in check. His job wasn’t to interfere, and no matter how much it hurt to see you again, he couldn’t let the truth slip. You didn’t know who he was, didn’t recognize the connection you’d once shared.

And why would you? To you, he was just a stranger. A quiet, brooding figure who had been assigned to shadow your dying days.

At first, he told himself that keeping his distance would make it easier. That if he stayed aloof, if he acted like this was just another assignment, maybe the ache in his chest wouldn’t consume him. But the moment he saw how lonely you were, trapped in a hospital bed, tethered to machines, fading faster than anyone your age should—he couldn’t help himself.

It was the little things at first. Reminding you of a nurse’s name when your memory failed. Offering a quiet presence during your treatments. Bringing you that pack of gel pens when he noticed your fingers twitching over the edges of your journal, longing to create something amidst the monotony of hospital life.

But as the days turned into weeks, Megumi found himself doing more than he should.

He started sitting closer to you, his usual stoic demeanor softening with every conversation. He started bringing you small comforts—a cup of coffee he swore he “found” a scarf on the day the hospital felt too cold, a faint smile when you told him a joke, no matter how bad it was.

“Why do you even hang around?” you asked one afternoon, your voice tinged with a mix of curiosity and weariness.

You’d just finished another grueling medicinal session, your body too weak to sit up straight. He didn’t answer right away. For a moment, his gaze lingered on you, something unreadable in his dark blue–green eyes. Then, he shrugged.

“You’re interesting to me.” he said simply, but his voice betrayed the truth he couldn’t say.

You laughed weakly. “Interesting? I’m a walking tragedy.”

“No, never say that. Not ever again.” he said firmly, his tone surprising you. “You’re more than that. You are more than your tragedy.”

The words hung in the air, and you didn’t press further. But in that moment, something shifted between you. As time went on, you began to look forward to his visits. He wasn’t just a reaper to you anymore; he was someone who made the unbearable a little more bearable.

Someone who listened when you needed to vent, who stayed when the nights felt too long, who reminded you that even in the shadow of death, you weren’t invisible. And Megumi… Megumi was breaking all his own rules. Rules he had set long after you, long before you again.

Every time he saw you laugh, even if it was just a fleeting chuckle, a part of him swore he’d do anything to keep that spark alive. But every time he saw you struggle; when your hands trembled too much to hold a pen, when your memories slipped further and further away—his heart ached in ways it hadn’t in centuries.

He hated this. Hated that you had to go through this. Hated that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t change your fate. But he stayed by your side through it all. He lets himself relive it all over again, no matter the pain. No matter what comes. Because it’s you. Come what may, it’s you.

“You know, Megumi.” you said softly, your voice almost drowned out by the hum of the machines. “You’re not so bad to me.”

He raised an eyebrow, but there was a faint twitch at the corner of his lips. “Not so bad?”

You smiled, your eyes heavy with exhaustion but still warm. “Yeah. You’re like... a friend. A precious friend.”

A friend. The word stabbed at him more than it should have. Because that’s all he could ever be to you in this life. A friend. A shadow. A quiet presence watching over you as you slowly slipped away.

“You think so, huh?” He asks you, as you nodded and smiled. Silence engulfs the room. “I don’t think I’ve ever been someone’s precious friend before.”

“Then we are the same. Well, almost.”

He blinks at your words. “What do you mean?”

“If you call me your precious friend too, then we’ll finally have it. Being a precious person, at least once.”

You’ve always been a precious person to me. Megumi thinks to himself. In every lifetime, in every you — you have always been my precious person.

And even though he would never tell you the truth, that you’d been so much more to him in another life, that losing you once had broken him and losing you again was killing him all over again, he couldn’t bring himself to pull away.

Because this was his last chance to be with you, even if you didn’t remember him. Even if it would never be enough. Nothing with you would ever be enough, not even if you lived a thousand years.

But, every moment is worth it, no matter how short it would be. When you love someone that much, it has to be enough. It has to be more than enough. He has to live through this immortal and wretched life, making those moments feel like they were as eternal as him. Even if he wanted more.

“Alright.” Megumi says to you as you perk up, your eyes shining. “You are a precious person to me.”

You giggled at his words. “Was it so hard to say? I am grateful that you said it at all.”

It was never hard to say. It never had been.

But now he has to live that memory over and over again.

He lets his lips echo a small warm smile as he looks at you.

“No, no it wasn’t hard at all.”

══════════════════

THE TREATMENTS HAVE STOPPED FULLY. And because of that your condition was getting worse and worse. The moments of clarity you once had were growing fewer and farther between. The pain in your body became an unwelcome constant, a weight that pulled you down even when you tried to fight against it.

Every movement felt like dragging yourself through glass, and the fog in your mind thickened, stealing memories and thoughts before you could fully grasp them. Everything about it felt so fragile, and you were afraid of breaking it. Even if it was already broken, you were scared at seeing it break even more. You were scared and he couldn’t do much about it.

Megumi hated seeing you like this. He watched as you lay curled in your bed, tears streaming silently down your face, your breathing shaky and uneven. He hated the way your hands trembled as you gripped the blanket.

It was as if holding onto it might keep you tethered to something real. Something solid enough to bring you back to earth, to existence. To humanity. Hated the way your voice cracked when you spoke, each word laced with frustration and grief over what was slipping away from you.

“I hate this, I hate this.” you whispered one night, your voice barely audible. Your chest hitched with a quiet sob as you turned your face into the pillow, trying to muffle your cries. “I hate... not being able to think. To remember. I feel like I’m disappearing, and I can’t stop it.”

Megumi clenched his fists at his sides, his nails biting into his palms. He wanted to say something, to comfort you, but the words felt like ash in his throat. What could he say? That it would be okay? That you’d find peace? That this agony would end? None of it felt true, and none of it would matter to you at this moment.

You didn’t want peace. You wanted your life back.When you looked up at him, your eyes red and swollen, the sight nearly broke him. You looked so weak, one couldn’t even think you were someone with such strength at one point. He hated this. He hated how miserable you’ve been, how pained you’ve been.

“I’m so tired, Megumi.” you admitted, your voice cracking as fresh tears welled in your eyes. “I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

Megumi moved closer, his steps slow and deliberate, as if he were afraid his presence might shatter you further. He sat at the edge of your bed, his usually impassive face shadowed with something raw and unguarded.

“You’re still you, you always will be.” he said quietly, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

You let out a bitter laugh, though it came out more like a choked sob. “How do you know that? You don’t even really know me.”

He froze for a moment, his gaze dropping to his hands. He wanted to tell you that he did know you, better than anyone ever could. That he remembered you in ways you couldn’t even begin to imagine. But he couldn’t. Not now.

Instead, he reached out, his hand hovering over yours for a moment before he let it settle gently against your trembling fingers. The touch was warm, grounding, and for a moment, the chaos inside you stilled.

“I know because I saw it. I’ve seen it all, even for a while.” he said finally. “Even when you’re hurting, even when it feels like everything is falling apart, I see you.”

His words hung in the air, fragile but steady, and something in your expression slowly softened. You leaned closer to him and he didn’t mind it at all. He pulled you even closer, letting that warmth of him become even more felt.

“It’s okay to be angry about all of this.” he continued, his voice steady now. “It’s okay to cry. You’ve been fighting so hard, for so long. You don’t have to hold it all in.”

Your tears flowed freely then, and Megumi stayed right where he was, his hand never leaving yours. He didn’t try to stop your sobs or hush your pain. He simply stayed, letting you pour out everything you’d been holding back. And for the first time in centuries, in his entire lifetime — Megumi couldn’t help but feel unequivocally helpless.

He was a reaper, meant to guide and observe, but watching you crumble under the weight of your illness was unbearable. You didn’t deserve all of this. You shouldn’t suffer like this. You had done nothing wrong, not in your previous life and not this one. But this was still your fate.

And he hated the unfairness of it all, the cruelty of a life that had given you so little only to take it away too soon. If he could have taken your place, he would have done it without hesitation.

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t trade a life for a life. The gods do not have mercy in that regard. Fate was fate. He cannot do much about it. And he hates it. He hates seeing you like this.

All he could do was stay by your side, no matter how much it hurt to watch. Because you deserved that much. You deserve someone who wouldn’t leave, even in your darkest moments. And Megumi would be damned if he let you face this alone.

As the night deepened, the room fell into a heavy, fragile silence. The only sounds were the steady hum of the machines and your quiet, uneven breaths as you lay spent from crying. Megumi hadn’t moved from his spot, his hand still lightly covering yours.

Your fingers twitched against his, seeking more warmth. The motion was subtle, but he noticed. Carefully, he threaded his fingers between yours, his grip firm but not overbearing. You didn’t pull away. Instead, your grip tightened just a little, like you were holding on to him for dear life.

“Why do you stay?” you asked, your voice hoarse from the tears but tinged with something vulnerable. You didn’t meet his eyes, staring instead at the faint outline of his hand entwined with yours.

Megumi hesitated. He wasn’t good at this—at talking about feelings. He was better at quiet gestures and staying in the background. But something about the way you asked, so small and uncertain, pulled the words out of him.

“Because you shouldn’t have to go through this alone, jot ever.” he said softly, his gaze fixed on you.

You blinked at his answer, a lump forming in your throat. “But you don’t even know me, not at all, Megumi.” you repeated, weaker this time, as if you wanted to believe him but couldn’t quite bring yourself to. “How could you stay for someone like me?”

Megumi’s jaw tightened.

You didn’t know half of it.

“I know enough.” he said finally. “I know you’re stubborn and strong, even when you feel like you’re not. I know you don’t like hospital food, but you’ll eat it anyway because you don’t want to make the nurses worry. I know you still draw on the edges of your notebooks, even when your hands shake so much that the lines go crooked.”

Your eyes widened slightly at his words and Megumi felt his heart clench at the way you were looking at him, like you were seeing him for the first time. And as though, it was the first time in a while you had known him that he truly saw you.

“I see you.” he said again, his voice barely above a whisper. “Every part of you, even the ones you think you’ve lost. They’re still there. You’re still here.”

You felt the tears welling up again, but this time, they weren’t from frustration or anger. They were something softer, quieter. You take a deep breath, to calm yourself for a moment.

And he brushes your hand against your own. He was so warm, even when your hands were cold. He warmed you enough back to life, even for just that moment.

“You make it sound like I’m worth something.” you murmured, a bittersweet smile tugging at your lips.

“You are. You always have been.” he said instantly, the conviction in his voice startling you. “More than you know. I promise you.”

Your chest ached, not from the illness this time, but from the overwhelming mixture of emotions his words stirred in you. It was almost too much, but at the same time, you didn’t want him to stop. You didn’t want him to stop bringing you back to life. You didn’t want him to stop giving you reasons to want to live.

“Megumi.” you said quietly, finally looking up at him.

His name sounded different coming from you, like it carried more weight, more meaning than it ever had before. It was as warm as back then, when you would say his name and smile at him, like he was your world. Like he was someone you dearly loved.

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice softer now, like he was afraid of breaking the moment.

You hesitated, your dulling eyes searching for something you couldn’t quite put into words. Then, with a shaky breath, you smiled—a real smile, small but genuine.“Thank you. For all you have done for me, for all you will ever do for me. Thank you.”

Megumi’s lips couldn’t help but twitch at your words, and for the first time, he allowed himself to give you a wide smile in return. It was faint, almost imperceptible, but it was there, and it was for you, only for you. And you knew that it was only for you.

“Don’t mention it.” he said, his usual stoicism creeping back into his tone, but there was an undeniable warmth beneath it.

That night, as you finally drifted off to sleep, your hand still holding his, Megumi stayed by your side. He watched the rise and fall of your chest, each breath a reminder that you were still here, still fighting. And for the first time in what felt like forever, Megumi let himself hope.

Not for a miracle, no. He wasn’t foolish enough to believe in those anymore—but for something smaller. He hoped that in the time you had left, he could make sure you knew you weren’t just a fleeting soul, a name on a list, a face on a board.

You were everything to him, even if you never remembered why. And as he sat there, his hand still holding yours in the quiet of the night, he thought that maybe, just maybe, he could carry that truth for both of you.

══════════════════

HE KNEW THAT HE CAN’T KEEP BUYING TIME. That’s not how it works in this line of work. The higher-ups had been patient with Megumi for as long as they could. They had watched from a distance as he ignored the rules, as he lingered at your side longer than necessary.

He had been told once, perhaps twice, that his attachment was blurring the lines of his duty. But no one had come forward to confront him, not until now.

The meeting room was cold, sterile—just like all the others. It was almost like the hospital. It even smells like it too. The flickering lights did nothing to soften the sharp voices of his superiors, their words cutting through him like a blade. Megumi has always hated this room. As much as you hate the hospitals.

He has lived for a long time. He has been in the reaper department for so long, he doesn’t even remember when he had started. But no matter how many times he stays in it, the smell will always linger and he hates it. Just as much as he hates the higher-ups, perhaps. Yet, he knew he couldn’t admit it out loud.

“Megumi, this isn’t working any longer.” One of them had said it, their voice cutting through the stale air of the room like a blade, sharp with frustration.

The council sat in their cold, unfeeling silence, their dark robes blending into the shadows that clung to the room. The words echoed in Megumi’s ears, even as he sat still, his fists clenched tightly under the table.

“They are already dying,” the voice continued, each word hammering against him. “You know this, you always have. Fate cannot be changed. You cannot keep delaying it. You’re prolonging their suffering, and you know it. We cannot let this go on any longer.”

Megumi’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. His blue-green eyes stayed fixed on the floor, a storm brewing behind them. He didn’t argue, didn’t defend himself, because deep down, he knew they were right. He could feel it every time he saw you.

In this way your body grew weaker with each passing day, as if life itself was slipping through your fingers. Each breath you took was a silent battle, and every glance you gave him carried an unspoken understanding that your time was coming.

But what they didn’t understand, what they couldn’t understand, was why he couldn’t just let go. Not yet. Not when your laughter still lingered in the corners of the hospital room.

Not when you still found the strength to smile at him, even through the haze of your pain. Not when you had thanked him—thanked him—for being the kindest thing in your life. How could he take that away from you? How could he take it away from himself?

“It’s not for your benefit that they should stay alive, you know that.” another elder said, their voice low but unyielding, like a hammer falling against stone. “Do it for their sake. The sooner you do it, the sooner they can find peace. You mustn’t prolong the suffering for your wants.”

The words cut deeper than Megumi would ever admit, a blow he wasn’t prepared for. His fists tightened until his nails bit into his palms, but he kept his gaze down, unwilling to let them see the flicker of defiance in his eyes.

He wanted to scream at them, to tell them they didn’t understand, that it wasn’t about his wants, it never had been. It was about you. About giving you every last moment, every fleeting second that you deserved, no matter how much it hurt him to watch.

But none of that mattered to them. The rules were the rules. His mission was clear: guide souls to the other side, no matter the cost, no matter the pain. He was meant to be impartial, detached, but he wasn’t. Not this time.

As the meeting adjourned, their final words hung in the air like a noose tightening around his neck. “You have to let them go, Megumi.” the elder had said, their tone devoid of sympathy. “It’s not about you. It’s about them. Do what must be done.”

When the room emptied, Megumi remained seated, his shoulders heavy with the weight of their judgment. He wanted to argue, to push back against the inevitability they demanded he enforce. But deep down, he knew he couldn’t delay forever.

He could feel the edges of your life fraying, could see the way the light in your eyes flickered, like a candle in its final moments. And yet, even as he sat there, alone in the suffocating silence, he made a decision.

Not yet.

Because you deserve those moments, however brief they might be. You deserved the warmth of the sun on your skin, the chance to smile one more time, the chance to feel something other than pain before the end. And if he could give you that, even at the cost of his own heart, he would.

But he also knew the truth, the one he couldn’t ignore forever. Time wasn’t on your side. And when the moment came, when the inevitability could no longer be postponed, Megumi would have to let you go.

Just not today.

Not yet.

He needs more time.

When the meeting ended, Megumi didn’t move. He couldn’t. His mind was too heavy with the weight of their demands, and yet his heart felt too torn to process it. He takes a moment to compose himself before he walks out.

As he walked out into the hallway, he wasn’t surprised to find Gojo Satoru waiting for him, leaning casually against the wall with that ever-present, cocky grin on his face. The two of them had known each other for lifetimes, especially with how Gojo was now his boss.

Though Gojo was the opposite of Megumi in nearly every way. Where Megumi was reserved and quiet, Gojo was loud and unapologetic. He hated the elders too, he hated the rules as much as Megumi too.

But he had never let himself be swallowed by what he feels personally as he works. And Gojo Satoru knew that too well, when he saw that look in Megumi’s face. He had not taught him well enough to separate it all.

“Megumi, hey.” Gojo said, his voice a little more serious than usual. “Can we talk?”

Without waiting for an answer, Gojo pushed himself off the wall and fell into step beside Megumi, leading him down a quieter hall away from the bustling administrative wing. He already knew what he was going to say.

But Megumi wishes he wouldn’t say it. Because when Gojo says it, it becomes even more real. It becomes even more true. And it’s something he can’t handle. Not right now.

“I know what you’re thinking, okay?” Gojo began, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye. “And I know it’s hard.”

He’s saying it. He’s talking about it. There was nothing that would stop it from being real. Not anymore. Megumi didn’t answer, he didn’t want to. He didn’t need to.

Gojo Satoru could always read him, could always sense what was going on under the surface, even when Megumi tried to hide it. He was always going to tell Megumi the truth, even when it was hard.

“I don’t get it, Gojo–san.” Megumi said, his voice low, rough from the strain of keeping it all in. “I know the rules. I know they have to go. But… but I can’t just let them die like this. Not again. Not this miserably.”

He stopped in the middle of the hallway, turning to face Gojo, his face a mix of frustration and sorrow. “They’re suffering so much and miserable to boot, and I’m supposed to just… let them go? How is that even fair?”

Gojo’s expression softened, the usual smugness gone, replaced by something much more genuine. He took a step closer, his hands in his pockets as he regarded Megumi with quiet understanding. He takes a deep sigh.

“I know it’s not easy, kid.” Gojo said, his voice lower now, almost tender. “But this isn’t about what you want. You’re not their savior, Megumi. You’re their guide. You can’t heal them, that’s not part of the job description. It never was. You can’t protect them from everything.”

The words stung, sharper than Megumi expected.

But it was the truth, the unavoidable truth.

This was a job, even if it meant the world to him.

It cannot be more than a job, not even like this.

“I know you care about them. Hell, you’re probably more attached than anyone in this damn place,” Gojo continued, the hint of a wry smile tugging at his lips. “But your job is to make them transition to something peaceful. To comfort them. Not to prolong their suffering because you’re too scared to let them go.”

Megumi looked away, his blue–green eyes burning with the weight of his own guilt. He could feel them water ever so slowly as he thinks about you, about everything you suffered — in all your lives. And now, when you suffered the most. He bit his lower lip. How could he just let it all go?

“I can’t just stand by and watch them die, Gojo–san.” he whispered, his voice shaking slightly, betraying the deep ache inside him. “Not like this. Not when I… when I care about them this much. Not when….Not when I love them so much.”

Gojo Satoru’s gaze softened further, taking a moment to sigh at him. He’d known Megumi for so long. He’s a good kid, he’s always been the best of everyone here, if he was being honest. But even now, he was still so human. And perhaps that is his weakness. He cannot be a reaper, and be human too. He cannot have both.

“I know, kid. I know.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “But this is the hardest part. You have to be strong for them now. It’s time. And you have to do your job. You have to help them let go. That’s the only way they’ll be able to be free from the pain, okay? If you do your job. They’ll be free. And it can be, if anything, the greatest act of love.”

Megumi wanted to argue, wanted to lash out and scream that it wasn’t fair, that this wasn’t right. But something in Gojo’s cerulean eyes made him stop. Gojo Satoru wasn’t just talking about the rules; he was talking about them. About the person Megumi had come to love more than anything in this world, someone who was ever so dear to him in each and every lifetime.

He was right. He can’t do anything about death or about fate. And he was right — death was the greatest mercy, instead of suffering. This could be the greatest act of love, as it had always been in each lifetime. To be there for you, to hold your hand and whisper all the love he has in your ear as you go. To set you free.

The truth was hard to swallow, but the reality was clearer than ever. Your suffering wasn’t going to end unless he let you go. And if he truly cared about you, he would have to find the strength to be the one to guide you to peace. With a deep breath, Megumi nodded, the weight of his decision settling in.

“I’ll do it, Gojo–san.” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “I’ll make sure they’re at peace.”

Gojo gave him a small, approving nod. “You’re doing the right thing.”

Megumi knew it would be one of the hardest things he’d ever do. But as he turned back down to earth, to the hall toward where you were waiting, his heart heavy with the knowledge of what was to come, he also knew it was the only way to truly set you free.

He just hoped that, somehow, you would understand. And that you would forgive him. That you would smile warmly back at him once again, when you meet him again in your next life. That you could love him again, if you can.

══════════════════

HE BRACED HIMSELF FOR WHAT COMES NEXT. Megumi stood outside your hospital room, his heart heavy in his chest. The hallway was unnervingly quiet, the soft beep of monitors and the occasional shuffle of nurses’ footsteps the only sounds that kept him tethered to reality.

He had never been so sure of something—so certain that this moment had arrived. It was time. He swallowed hard, fighting the lump in his throat, before pushing the door open and stepping inside. Having done it once didn’t make it any easier. If anything, it made it harder. He’d have to relive this moment over and over again, like all the other times.

But he had no other choice. If you were to die, he’d rather it be him holding you. He would rather it be him you hurt, leave a scar only he could see. Megumi would rather that he would be the one to comfort you one last time, to tell you that he’s got you. That everything will be alright. Because you were together. Because he was the one taking you away.

You were there, propped up against the pillows, looking so small under the white sheets. Your face was pale, your features drawn and tired, but when you saw him, your expression softened, and a faint smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

"You're here again, hm?" you said, your voice hoarse but warm.

Megumi stood frozen for a moment, the sight of you sending a wave of emotions crashing over him. You looked so fragile, so close to the edge, and yet here you were, smiling at him like nothing was wrong. Like you hadn’t been battling this slow, painful decline for so long.

He forced his lips into a small, bittersweet smile. "Of course I’m here."

You sat up a little straighter in your bed, your eyes trying to focus on him. There was a faint sense of confusion in them, as if the fog in your mind was thicker than usual today. You reached out, your hand trembling slightly as you sought his, and Megumi moved closer, carefully taking your hand in his.

"I didn’t know if you'd come today, you know." you murmured, your voice barely a whisper. “For the last time.”

Megumi felt the weight of your words press against his chest. You couldn’t remember everything, not anymore, but you remembered him. And somehow, that was a mercy. A small one, but a mercy nonetheless. He hated it, but it was all he had. It was all there was left.

"I’m always here when you need me, always." he said quietly, his voice unsteady despite the calm he tried to project. "You know that, right?"

You nodded slowly, as though trying to make sense of everything that was slipping through your fingers. The memory of his voice, the sensation of his presence, the feel of his hand in yours—it was enough to pull you back from the brink.

"I... I don’t remember... a lot." you confessed, your voice faltering, as though you were apologizing for something you couldn’t control. "But... I remember you."

Megumi’s heart squeezed at that, and he fought the urge to crumble. Don’t show weakness now, he told himself. Not with them. Not when they need you the most. Don’t falter. Love them, love them even if it hurts.

“I’ll always be here.” he repeated softly, gently squeezing your hand. “You’ve always been important to me. You always will be.”

You tried to smile again, though it was faint, and the effort seemed to take everything out of you. "I wish I could remember everything... all the good stuff we did together. There was a lot, wasn’t it? Even before…..I’m sorry if I don’t remember it all. But I can remember you right now, Megumi. I hope that’s enough. I hope…I hope that’s alright."

He felt his eyes sting, but he held it back, keeping his gaze steady on yours. "That’s enough. That’s more than enough."

Your grip tightened a little on his hand, your eyes slowly drifting over his face, as if committing his features to memory, trying to remember every detail of him before the fog came back.

"It’s always so funny to me." you whispered, a soft laugh escaping your lips despite the heaviness in the air. "You don’t look like a grim reaper."

Megumi chuckled quietly, the sound devoid of any real humor. "I get that a lot."

The silence stretched between you both, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt almost peaceful, like the calm before the storm. You leaned back against the pillows, but you didn’t let go of his hand.There were so many things he wanted to say to you.

So many words that were caught in his throat, threatening to spill over. But now—now there was no time for them. No time for the confessions, for the truth he’d never dared to speak. He simply stayed there, sitting at your side, holding your hand, because that was all he could do.

When you spoke again, it was quieter, slower. "I don’t want to forget you, not ever, not now." you said, your voice so fragile, so raw. "But I know I will. I already am."

Megumi shook his head, his thumb brushing lightly across the back of your hand, as though to comfort you, even though the words he wanted to say wouldn’t come. He couldn't promise you anything, couldn't tell you that this would all be okay, because it wouldn’t be.

“I’ll never forget you.” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ll remember for the both of us. Even when you aren’t here anymore.”

“Then….will you let me fall in love with you again, if I were to be reborn?” You asked him, tears in your eyes pouring down your cheeks. “Will you let me, Megumi?”

His breath hitches shakily. His lips wobbled into a small watery smile. “Of course, I will. You can love me as many times as you want. I’ll let you do it. Over and over again.”

You choked into a giggle. “Then….Then, I’m glad. I’m forgetful, after all. It’s good, you’ll remind me next time.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at that. Even at the end, you were taking care of him. You were making sure he wasn’t sad. You looked at him, really looked at him, and for a brief moment, the confusion in your eyes faded.

The fog cleared, just a little, and you smiled. It was a small, soft smile, but it was there, and it was for him. All for him. As it always has been. You take a moment, a breath. He waits patiently for what you want to say.

“I wish…..” you whispered, your voice trailing off as your eyes fluttered closed, exhaustion finally taking over.

Megumi’s chest tightened as he waited.

But the words never came out of your lips.

As you slipped into a quiet sleep, your breath steady and calm, Megumi stayed by your side, his hand still holding yours. He knew it wasn’t enough to stop what was coming. But for now, he will hold on. He will cherish the warmth that remains.

It was the last time. The last time he would see you, the last time he would hear your voice, the last time he would get to make you feel comforted before you let go. And somehow, it was enough. Because you remembered him. And that was all that mattered now.

��I love you.” He whispers to you as he closes his eyes, letting the tears flow. “Goodbye.”

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pinkiemachine · 1 day ago

Text

More BatFamily X Meet the Robinsons (I don’t have time to draw this whole thing)

Tim: What’s your name, fruit-head?

Jon: Well, Jon, but—

Tim: Jon, huh? Well, say, Jon, you haven’t seen a spleen around here have ya?

Jon: A spleen?!

Tim: Yeah, my spleen! :) Been digging holes all day. Can’t find it anywhere.

Jon: Alright, look—I need to get back to the garage. Damian left me down there, and I wasn’t suppose to leave, and then this monster attacked me on the porch and—

Tim: Monster? There’s no monster on the porch you ninny! XD

Jon: Listen to me—

Tim: Of course, I also didn’t think there was a Starro living on my arm, and—whoop! *lifts arm to reveal Jarro* Looky there! Hope he ain’t got rabies!

Jon: Dude—I need to get to the garage!

Tim: Oh, sure, I’ll get you there in a jiffy. I know a shortcut!

——————————————————————————————

*opens secret entrance to the living room*

Tim: Welcome to the garage! … … … Well, I’m completely lost.

Jon: …

Artemis: Hello, Tim!

Tim: Hey, Artemis! Jon and I are looking for the garage!

Dusan: We have a garage?

Tim: Apparently so. :)

*and maybe Dusan and Artemis have a duel or something, idk*

——————————————————————————————

*Damian arrives back in the garage*

Damian: Alright, Jon. I’ve got the—*the garage is empty* …Jon?

——————————————————————————————

*Tim and Jon walk past Jason who’s beating the snot out of a punching bag and screaming*

Tim: That’s Jason. He’s pretty chill.

Jon: …

——————————————————————————————

*I don’t know how to translate Nyssa into Art’s bit*

——————————————————————————————

*Tim and Jon on the roof*

Tim: Well what are we doing up here?

Jon: Looking for the garage…

Tim: Oh yeah!

——————————————————————————————

*in another room of the house*

Mar’i: Jake! You stop hogging the trapeze or I’m telling mom!

Jake: Oh, lighten up, sis!

Mar’i: Jake, I mean it!

Dick: Children, please! Your mother is trying to take a nap—

Starfire: What is all the yelling out here?!

Jake: She started it!

Mar’i: He started it!

Starfire: I don’t wanna hear any more!

Dick: Now, sweetie—

Starfire: Don’t you sweetie me! I’m going for a drive.

*leaves and peels out*

Tim: That’s strange. She usually takes the Harley.

Jon: …

——————————————————————————————

Tim: Ooh, I think my girlfriend Steph is baking cookies!

*opens door to disco room, and Steph is jamming out*

Tim: Bake them cookies, Steph!

——————————————————————————————

*looking at Ace*

Jon: Why is your dog wearing glasses?

Tim: Oh, because his insurance won’t pay for contacts.

ba dum tss!

——————————————————————————————

Tim: That’s Duke, and that’s Cassandra.

*both wave “hi”*

*suddenly, Goliath appears!*

Tim: Oh look, there’s—

Jon: Ah! That’s the monster!

Tim: Oh no, Jon, this is just Goliath, one of Damian’s pets! And this is our butler, Alfred.

*Alfred has Goliath on a leash*

Alfred: Pleased to meet you.

Jon: Y-you too.

Tim: Hey, Alfie, any idea how to get to the garage?

Alfred: Have you tried Miss Kyle?

Tim: Well, that’s true, we didn’t ask her yet.

Jon: Who’s that?

Tim: Damian’s step-mom, Selina. I think you’ll like her :)

*opens door to Selina’s pet sanctuary*

Selina: Hey guys!

*there’s probably a bunch of cool creatures in there, like magical ones, alien ones, take your pick*

——————————————————————————————

ANYWAY, I’d write that they found Tim’s spleen, but I don’t think anyone wants to read that XD

Original Post for more context 👇

#dc #dc comics #batman #bat family #batfam #bat brothers #funny #meet the robinsons #disney #meet the waynes

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robo-writing · 16 hours ago

Note

helloooo

I’ve recently gotten into call of duty and I make a humble request 🕺

could I have a ghost x afab!reader who’s usually innocent and stuff, but tries to seduce him or something? Take your time!! I love your work

I don’t think I’m ever gonna get used to people saying they love my writing 🥹

His squadmates check up on him occasionally—especially Soap, nosey as he is. For everything that they've gone through together they practically know nothing about Simon, and he likes it this way. Not to say that he doesn't trust them, but because Simon's a solitary creature, nothing more. However, it's surprising to the entire team when he off-handedly mentions that he's picked up a new hobby recently—bird-watching.

Immediately questions are fired off, but much to everyone's annoyance Simon only smiles as he takes another swig of beer. They almost suspect him of lying; he's not. His favorite past-time is making his way to his local haunt—9:00 pm sharp, every Friday—all to watch the pretty little bird behind the bar. He hasn’t missed a day, a regular customer every week for the past three months.

He likes the atmosphere, he likes how no one seems to ask questions about the 6’4 beast that orders his whiskey neat and sits alone in the corner—even more than that, he likes how you greet him with a smile every time he walks through the door.

Adorable really, how you fly about the bar, chirping out orders at the speed of light. More than once he’s had the opportunity to talk to you, and more than once have you averted your eyes from him, made yourself busy in hopes that you could hide the obvious attraction written on your face.

It never works, but he likes that about you.

He likes how you stumble over your words, how you meekly offer him a refill once his glass is empty, how your face lights up when he purposely lets his fingers touch your own when you set down a new glass. It's easy to let his mind wander knowing how easily riled up you are, and let it wander he does. Sensitive little birdy, he thinks to himself. Wonder how you'd react if his fingers were stroking your clit instead.

His pretty little birdie, shy little thing you are. So shy that you can’t bring yourself to express your little crush with words, but it’s alright—he knows—and he's willing to play this game for as long as you want it to go on. He's a patient man. It's February now, and it seems as if you're ready for this game to end. Among the red streamers and paper hearts that decorate the bar is you, and the cute red set you're so excited to show him. "I got the boss to sign off on it, see?" You ramble excitedly, stepping away for a single moment to show off your low-cut top and jeans to match. "Isn't it so cute?" He's the only one that gets this special treatment, the sight of you doing a 360 almost enough to make him reach across the bar. "Mhm," he agrees, far too engrossed in the shape of your ass than the color of your outfit. "Y'look amazing birdie." You bow your head in embarrassment at the nickname, unable to see how Simon's lips curl upward in response. "How am I supposed to react when you say things like that..." "It's a compliment. I don't say shit I don't mean." Again, you feel your face heat up at the implication, surprising yourself with a sudden burst of confidence. "You really mean that, don't you?" "I do. You think I don't?" "I think you're a flirt," you reply, the timbre of his voice sending shivers up your spine when he answers— "I'd be more than happy to prove just how honest I am, birdie." The look he sends you is nothing short of a promise, eyes boring into your own as he takes a sip. He knows, and you're willing to guess that he's known for a while based how how quick he is to laugh at your befuddled expression. "That's—I mean—" He sets his glass down slowly, tilting his head towards you. "Am I reading something wrong here?" You stumble over your words, barely muttering out a meek little "no" under your breath as he leans in close, enough to smell the liquor on his breath. "So, if I ain't wrong, feel free to meet me in the back after closing. I'd hate for you to think I'm a liar." Hours later, he found the answer to the question of how you'd react with his fingers against your clit—turns out you're even more sensitive than he imagined.

#robo writes #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley smut #ghost #ghost x reader #ghost smut #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley smut #this kinda strayed from the theme a bit sowwy :3

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heeseungiez · 18 hours ago

Text

the tower by the forest | lhs

part one!

pairings! sorcerer!lee heeseung x fem!reader

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

genre! fantasy romance, angst

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

word count! 11.4k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s a love song.

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

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

Smiling, you nod. “Of course.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You both know who he is.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It has to be fine.

It was not supposed to happen so soon.

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

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

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

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

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

Not how it works. Unfortunately.

He’d rather take the gifts, too.

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

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

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

His eyes fixate on the girl playing.

You.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re quite clever.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N! Who’s—”

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

“But why—”

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

“Who?” you ask.

“Me.”

“You what?”

“Heeseung.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

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

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

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

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

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

“He was going to teach you…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I ask a question?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“For me, you mean.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Home.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I hope you like bread with butter.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sometimes we had meat,” he says.

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

“I never needed anything more,” Heeseung grumbles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good.” The sorcerer nods.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What about—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And so you follow.

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

Almost.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You little—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Heeseung, you need to rest.”

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

“Heeseung—”

“I need you here.”

“That’s—”

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

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

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

Eunjin.

Who’s Eunjin?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gulping, you nod. “I am safe.”

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

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

“But how will you—”

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

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

“It’s the least he can do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He is?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But Heeseung fought some creatures yesterday.”

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

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

“It’s not in my jurisdiction.”

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

“He’ll be fine, Y/N.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I won’t.” You can’t promise that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Taehyun—”

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N, I’m—”

“I’ll walk you out.”

tags: @moonpri @addictedtohobi @superbbananananana @strayy_kidz

#enhypen #enhypen fic #enhypen imagines #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen fluff #enhypen angst #enhypen x reader #heeseung x reader #lee heeseung x reader #lee heeseung fic #heeseung fic #heeseung imagines #heeseung angst #heeseung au #lee heeseung #heeseung #enhypen heeseung x reader #enhypen heeseung #haia writes

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screamofdespair · 3 days ago

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Director 出﨑統 Osamu Dezaki talks about Oniisama E...

Oniisama E... was the first project I worked on at Tezuka Productions. At that time, I had left my work at Tokyo Movie Shinsha and was focusing on OVA projects like B.B. and Sō Ryū Den. One day, a producer named Kuniharu Nagayama, with whom I had worked since my time at Mushi Production and who later joined Tezuka Productions, approached me with an offer. He said: "Why don't you direct it?" I replied, "I always wanted to work on Tezuka Osamu’s original works, but at Mushi Production, I was working on Ashita no Joe" Even after joining Tezuka Productions, they still wouldn’t let me handle Tezuka-sensei’s works. That dream was eventually fulfilled with Black Jack later.

Since I directed the second half of The Rose of Versailles, which is also a work by Ikeda-san, she apparently remembered me, and I imagine there was a conversation suggesting: 'If we’re going to adapt Oniisama E… into an anime, it should be done by that person."

I don’t usually read shoujo manga a lot. The only ones I’ve read are The Rose of Versailles and Aim for the Ace!, which I personally adapted into anime. I feel embarrassed to admit that I didn’t know anything about Oniisama E..., so I quickly read the original work. I found it very interesting. It’s a story full of selfish characters, and I really love that kind of thing.

Some may think this work differs from my past projects, but even with series like Ashita no Joe and Aim for the Ace!, which are often categorized as “sports dramas,” what I truly want to focus on isn’t the sports themselves but the human relationships and drama behind them. I’m someone who wants to portray drama, so I thought, “Oniisama E... is exactly the kind of drama I’m talking about!” (laughs).

“This is a world completely unknown to me. How fascinating!” I thought. As men, we don’t understand women, do we? There are times I find them amazing, and other times, scary. They are truly an unknown world. Throughout my life, I’ve had relationships with a few women, but that’s just a small part of the overall picture. In that sense, i just let my imagination run wild and thought, 'It would be amazing if such creatures existed!'. But as I read and tried to understand the original work, I also thought, They are just human beings like us.

Before starting the anime adaptation, I met with Ikeda-san to discuss about it. She didn’t provide any detailed requests or instructions in the direction, she simply said, 'I’ll leave it in your hands.' However, she made one exception: she specifically asked that Kaoru no Kimi, who dies in the original work ending, remain alive in the anime.

Ikeda-san's charm as a writer lies in how every character is desperately trying to live. Their actions make sense as you read, and you can empathize with them. They end up this way because they are trying their best. They end up this way because they’re hurt. They are people who, in regard to what they’ve done, somehow try to take personal responsibility, aren't they? In that sense, I really "understand" them.

The first character to catch my attention was Rei Asaka, or Saint-Juste. First, I just loved the name “Saint-Juste.” It left a strong impression on me because the name appeared in the The Rose of Versailles as the alias of an assassin. The powerful imagery of that story stayed with me. I thought, “This guy is really fascinating.” However, in the anime, we only managed to explore his character for one or two episodes. Because of that, I wanted to portray Saint-Juste in Oniisama E... as if she were someone transcending time and space. she’s such a poetic and deeply complex character, isn’t she? That's why I had her take pills from the very first episode.

Since it was broadcast on satellite TV, I was told we could push boundaries... This story focuses on adolescents peeking into the adult world, right? So, I figured that kind of portrayal was fitting. All the characters in the story bear emotional scars, don’t they? Whether it’s Saint-Juste or Kaoru no Kimi. Nanako was the only one who didn’t, which made her think, “I want scars too”. That’s essentially what the story is about, right?

Mariko Shinobu was also a fascinating character to depict. Her lipstick left a strong impression. When she made her vibrant entrance in the first episode, I remember thinking, “Ah, this series might really work.” Every project has a moment where a certain image feels like its the “starting point,” and for Oniisama E, that was Mariko. Even in the original work, she’s very impactful. The way her wavering emotions as a young girl are portrayed is truly compelling.

For instance, the way her father’s story unfolds feels incredibly realistic. And the way she quickly bonds with Nanako, that kind of behavior feels uniquely feminine, doesn’t it? Between men it’s difficult to overcome emotional barriers, and relationships tend to be much more detached. But between women, they can form extraordinarily close bonds, which might later transform into hatred.

If the other person is just a little more attractive or possesses something you lack, you may initially admire them and try to discover what makes them so special. But the moment you realize that quality can never truly be yours, they become your enemy. On the surface, you might get along, but if something sets it off, everything falls apart. You don’t even want to see them or hear their voice. You might even go so far as to steal the guy they’re dating. It can escalate to that level.

Men, I think, suppress those raw emotional instincts to some degree. On the other hand, women live constantly in that kind of emotional tension... That must be exhausting. Well, this is just from my imagination, of course (laughs).

Kaoru no Kimi has a masculine purity, yet she is bound by the fate of being a woman. She is more manly than any man. In a story like this, which features only women, the contrast might raise the question: 'What should a man be like?'

I created a scene where Kaoru no Kimi and Saint-Juste end up in bed together, but this wasn’t about homosexuality or anything like that. It was a manifestation of tenderness between two souls, each burdened with their own profound wounds. It was meant to show that something like this could happen. I wanted to portray it beautifully. However, those who saw it may have interpreted it differently (laughs).

As I was working on it, I came to realize that the one carrying the deepest emotional scars was actually Fukiko. When I realized that, she started to resemble to Reika Ryuzaki, aka Madame Butterfly, from Aim for the Ace! I portrayed Madame Butterfly as a woman so exemplary, so beautiful, and so strong that it inevitably leads people to wonder if such perfection hides deep inner struggles. My basic premise is that "the more beautiful a person is, the heavier the burdens they must bear." "The more beautiful they are, the more they must suffer." Of course, it's not always like that in real life. So, I decided to portray Fukiko's past and inner thoughts, as if looking through a magnifying glass. I even started imagining things that weren’t in the original work. Especially in the latter half of the series. Fukiko was particularly well-developed.

In terms of expanding the original story, which only consisted of two volumes, into 39 episodes, the writers really worked hard. At that time, Masami Mori also wrote the script for the OVA Black Jack that I directed, she was around 20 years old. Tomoko Komparu was in her 30s, and Chifude Asakura was in her 40s, so we had three female scriptwriters from different generations, and they all worked really hard. I would often ask them things like, "Isn’t this really how women are?" or "You must be thinking this, right?" and try to get them to open up their true feelings. Even so, it was hard to get them to reveal their true feelings, but when women write, sometimes there would be lines that would make me think, "Huh?", "A man could never have written this." I’m not the kind of director who always follows the script to make the storyboard but i used those impactful lines as a starting point, and then I explored the characters complexities. It was a really interesting and stimulating process. Every time I met Ikeda-san, she would ask me, "How do you understand women so well, Dezaki-san?" I would reply, "Eh? I don’t understand them at all" (laughs). It’s all just from my imagination. I’m sure in reality it’s different, but that’s how I portrayed it.

I think Akio Sugino probably enjoyed drawing women like Fukiko. Her grace was something only he could depict. Without that grace, her strength wouldn’t have been conveyed. That sense of elegance in his artwork was something he must have been born with. Well, that’s how it is with all of his works, but that quality really contributed strongly to the drama.

For the cast, I had the late sound director Etsuji Yamada think through a lot of things. We had a truly luxurious cast. Among so many experienced professionals, I had Hiroko Kasahara play Nanako. After listening to her audition tape, I felt something from it. However, I believe it was one of her first lead roles in a series. For that, her character was a bit too heavy, don’t you think?. She struggled at first, but gradually, she got better. In a way, I think she probably synced well with the character of Nanako, who was gradually growing and developing. For the dubbing, the first episode had the colors already added to the animation, but after that, we mostly recorded with just the finished drawings. Of course, this wasn’t something to be praised, but for this particular work, I think it might have actually worked well. The idea was that, by not focusing on synchronizing the voice with the lip movements, the voice actors were able to pour more energy into their performances. There were a lot of heavy lines, after all. Recording authentic, raw dialogue and then matching the animation’s lip movements to it. I think this approach worked well for the piece in the end. There was one time when the animation’s mouth movements and the voice didn’t quite match. It was in episode 17, where Fukiko found the letter Nanako wrote to her older brother and scolded Nanako for it. I decided to darken the scene at that moment. The line "Now, rip it in front of me" was a very striking one, so I secretly thought it turned out to be a good effect.

Source: Oniisama E... Blu-Ray BOX SET Booklet.

Note : The translation might not be the most accurate word-for-word, but i did my best to make it coherent.

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cielie-voss · 3 days ago

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The guinea pig whisperer

Eddie Munson x fem!reader (and her guinea pigs)

Summary: When your family needs your help, you turn to your best friend Eddie Munson to take care of your beloved guinea pigs. Couldn't be that difficult, right?

Warnings: use of y/n, but other than that none I think

Wordcount: 4.4k

Taglist: @violettsoul @evileyeandthecattywhumps

Masterlist

If you want to be tagged in coming fanfics or if you want to request something, feel free to send me a dm or an ask. 🥰 Likes, comments and especially reblogs are always welcome. 🤗

“Okay, guys, we’ve got this,” Eddie said softly as he knelt down, trying to convince himself as much as the little creatures in front of him.

“We totally got this.”

Who was he kidding? He totally didn’t have this. What had possessed him to agree to this quest?

As the little furballs scurried back into their houses, teeth chattering in disapproval of the strange guy invading their space, Eddie leaned back against the rustling beanbag and sighed.

Eddie loved animals—really, he did. Sometimes, he even loved them more than people. But most animals didn’t seem to love him back. He was usually too loud, too hectic, too fidgety, and he ended up scaring them away.

“Come on, I’m not a bad guy,” he tried to convince the crested guinea pig that was cautiously sticking its nose out of the door, sniffling and clearly unimpressed with Eddie's presence.

“Hey, it’s not my fault, okay? You’re the one who needs special care. I’m just doing what I’ve been told,” Eddie said, as if reasoning with the little ball of fur would somehow help. Did the guinea pig even understand him? Probably not—it’s just a guinea pig. Guinea pigs couldn’t understand humans, right?

When you had asked him to take care of your guinea pigs for a few days while you were out of town, he figured it wouldn’t be that hard. Feed them a couple of times a day, refill their water bottle—how complicated could it be?

But, oh boy, was he wrong.

You were the most generous person he’d ever met, always caring for every creature that crossed your path. For as long as he’d known you, you’d always had special needs animals in your care. Abandoned rabbits, blind cats, deaf dogs, birds with deformed wings, abused animals—you always tried to give these innocent souls a place of refuge.

The other day, you got a call from your family, needing your help with your grandma’s funeral. In a panic, you reached out to Eddie, asking if he could take care of your beloved guinea pigs. Knowing Eddie’s kind nature and willingness to help, you entrusted him with the responsibility of looking after Elvis and the other guinea pigs in your absence.

Who could possibly refuse such a request?

Certainly not Eddie.

Before you left, you handed him a list of instructions on how to take care of the guinea pigs, especially Elvis, your oldest guinea pig who needed special attention due to his dental issues.

Veggies cut in thin slices.

He eats pretty slowly, so make sure the others don’t steal his food.

Make sure nothing gets stuck where his teeth are growing back.

Nothing complicated, right? But he hadn’t expected Elvis to be such a diva. When you led him into the living room, where the huge guinea pig cage took up half the space, the other guinea pigs had excitedly approached the glass pane enclosing the cage. But Elvis stayed at the back, laying majestically in his snuggle sack, eyeing Eddie warily, clearly unimpressed by his presence.

As soon as you left and Eddie tried to introduce himself, Elvis sprinted into one of the wooden houses, out of Eddie’s reach. Realizing this task might be more complicated than he’d thought, Eddie sat down and observed the guinea pigs for a while. Maybe they just needed to get used to his presence? Maybe they were just shy and needed to see that he wasn’t a threat?

He glanced at the list you gave him: Treats are in the drawer next to the cage.

Treats sounded like a good idea. He grabbed a handful of pea flakes and tried to lure the guinea pigs out, carefully whispering reassuring words to them as if they could understand him.

Bit by bit, the first noses peeked out of the houses, sniffing the delicious treats in his hand. But it took some more time before the first guinea pig dared to approach Eddie, sneaking up to him cautiously. Excited, Eddie held his breath, freezing like a statue so as not to scare the fragile, timid creature. Just as he was struggling to hold his breath any longer, the guinea pig grabbed one of the flakes and, with its head held high, ran back into one of the houses.

He knew he had to be patient to gain their trust, but no matter what he tried, Elvis wouldn’t come out, making the task nearly impossible.

The rest of the day, Eddie spent in the living room, switching between the couch and the bean bag next to the cage. Whenever he moved around, he made sure to be as quiet as possible. Sitting still was something Eddie wasn’t really good at—he was always fidgeting with anything he could get his hands on.

After a while, he decided to read something to them. Maybe the sound of his voice would help the piggies get used to him? At least it would help him stay still. He figured it didn’t matter what he read aloud, so he inspected the small bookshelf in the corner of the room.

“Romeo and Juliet?” He glanced over his shoulder, searching for approval.

“No, maybe… What about Dracula? No, that’s probably too scary for you guys.” His eyes scanned the other titles. “Red Dragon? No, not appropriate. The Shining? Or maybe Carrie?” He furrowed his brows as he picked up one of the books and turned it around to read the blurb.

“Goddamn, these are some pretty bloody and violent books for such a gentle girl,” he muttered, surprised by your choice in literature. He put Cujo back on the shelf before finding Howl’s Moving Castle.

That might do the trick.

To lure the piggies out of their houses, he placed a bowl of thinly sliced vegetables in the middle of the cage and sat down on the bean bag, reading to them in a soft voice. But still, Elvis remained stubborn, refusing to come out of his house.

“Damn, you really are one headstrong little guy, huh?” Eddie peeked through the entrance of Elvis’s hiding place. “I won’t hurt you. I just wanna make sure you get enough food.”

They locked eyes in a silent standoff—two stubborn souls, neither willing to give in. Eddie cocked his head, looking at Elvis with pleading puppy eyes.

“Come on, dude. Do it for Y/N,” he said, a hint of desperation in his voice, as he held out his hand, offering some pea flakes. But Elvis simply turned his back on Eddie. Groaning, Eddie leaned back into the bean bag. How was he supposed to take care of this little guy?

The next couple of hours were a trial of patience for Eddie. Bit by bit the other guinea pigs started to become comfortable around Eddie - accepting the neatly cut veggie strips he offered them in an attempt to gain their trust. They even let him touch them and ate right out of his hand after some time. But Elvis? Hell no. There was no sign he started to trust Eddie. No matter what Eddie tried - pea flakes, grapes, cucumber or even blueberries - Elvis wouldn’t even look at him.

Slowly Eddie became frustrated, even anxiously because Elvis simply wouldn’t eat anything other than hay. After countless rejections Eddie searched through your kitchen, not actually knowing what he was looking for. He let out a sigh, his fingers running through his hair, about to give up, when finally he found a big bush of parsley taking up the space of the kitchen's windowsill. “Okay, one last try” he declared and gently picked a few twigs.

With the parsley in hand Eddie sat down on the bean bag again. “Hopefully this’ll work” he said before he tried to lure Elvis out of his hiding place. And miraculously it was working. Slowly Elvis’ nose peeked out of the little plushy tunnel he was hiding in. And it didn’t take long before, paw after paw, he followed the smell of the parsley in Eddie's hand.

“So you’re just like everyone else,” Eddie stated, grinning like an idiot, “Everyone is corruptible, even a guinea pig like you.” Relieved Eddie watched the little guy munch on that parsley. The little triumph filled Eddie with so much pride, he was convinced that there was nothing stopping him from successfully completing this quest. Even though Elvis was still on high alert, inspecting Eddie attentively and freezing every now and then when Eddie dared to move ever so slightly, it was another small step in the right direction, another piece of the puzzle that was earning the trust of these tiny creatures—Elvis, most of all.

Every morning, he would sit by the cage, reading softly from Howl’s Moving Castle, carefully offering treats, and speaking in his gentlest tone. The other guinea pigs had started to warm up to him, now eagerly gathering around whenever they saw or heard him coming. But Elvis remained stubborn, only occasionally poking his nose out to observe the others before retreating back into his hideaway.

Eddie found himself growing more and more determined. There was something about the challenge that made him even more committed to winning Elvis’s trust. Maybe it was because you had entrusted him with such an important task, or maybe it was because he recognized a kindred spirit in the little guy—a fellow outcast, wary of letting others in.

On the third day, a breakthrough happened. Eddie was lying on the floor next to the cage, chin resting on his hands, his voice low and soothing as he read another chapter. He hadn’t noticed at first, but slowly, ever so slowly, Elvis began to inch closer to the entrance of his wooden house. Eddie kept reading, trying not to make any sudden movements. After what felt like an eternity, Elvis crept out just enough to sniff the air, his tiny whiskers twitching.

Eddie’s heart raced. He didn’t move, barely even breathed, as Elvis cautiously approached the bowl of veggies. The little guy sniffed around, eyes constantly flicking up to keep Eddie in sight. But eventually, he started to nibble on a piece of lettuce, his guard seemingly lowered. Eddie smiled to himself, feeling a surge of triumph. Maybe, just maybe, they were slowly starting to understand each other.

But getting Elvis to eat in his presence was one thing; getting him to trust Eddie enough to be touched was another. Every time Eddie tried to reach out, Elvis would dart back into his house, and they would be back to square one. Frustration gnawed at Eddie, but he refused to give up. He tried everything he could think of—different treats, talking to Elvis in even softer tones, staying as still as a statue whenever the guinea pig ventured out. But nothing seemed to work.

One afternoon, after another failed attempt to coax Elvis out, Eddie slumped onto the couch, feeling defeated. He had a sprig of parsley in his hand, the latest in his arsenal of treats, but Elvis wasn’t biting—literally or figuratively. Eddie absentmindedly twirled the parsley between his fingers, thinking about what he might be doing wrong. Then, a thought struck him. He remembered how you had once mentioned that animals, especially small ones like guinea pigs, relied heavily on scent. Maybe Elvis was so attached to you because he associated your scent with safety.

Eddie searched through your apartment until he found a little cupboard in the bathroom, filled with makeup, different sorts of hairspray and a few little flacons of perfume. He stared at it for a moment, the idea forming in his mind. It was ridiculous, wasn’t it? But then again, everything else had failed. What did he have to lose?

With a determined sigh, Eddie grabbed the bottle and spritzed a small amount on his hoodie. The familiar scent filled the air, a mix of something floral and earthy, like freshly cut grass. He couldn’t help but smile a little—this was so absurd it just might work.

Feeling a bit silly, but hopeful, Eddie returned to the cage. He gently placed the parsley in front of Elvis’s hideaway and then sat back, waiting. Eventually, Elvis emerged, sniffing the air as usual. But this time, something was different. His tiny nose twitched more rapidly, almost excited, and he stepped out a little farther than usual, his gaze fixed on Eddie. The guinea pig’s hesitation seemed to lessen, and to Eddie’s astonishment, Elvis slowly made his way over to him, stopping just short of where Eddie’s hand rested on the floor.

Eddie’s heart pounded as Elvis sniffed at his hand, clearly intrigued by the scent. He stayed perfectly still, allowing the little creature to take his time. Finally, with what seemed like a deep breath of resolve, Elvis nudged the parsley with his nose and then—almost miraculously—climbed into Eddie’s lap. Eddie was so shocked he barely dared to move. But Elvis, after a moment of careful observation, seemed to decide that this strange new version of Eddie was okay, settling down on his lap.

Eddie let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Gently, he raised a hand and started to stroke Elvis’s soft fur. This time, the guinea pig didn’t flinch or run. Instead, he let out a tiny, contented squeak, closing his eyes and stretching out his legs as Eddie continued to pet him. Eddie grinned like a fool, feeling like he’d just won the lottery.

Eddie had settled into a routine with the guinea pigs over the next couple of days. He'd spend his mornings preparing their veggies, carefully slicing them just the way you had shown him, then patiently coaxing Elvis out of his hideaway with a mix of treats, soft words and the scent of your perfume. Though Elvis had finally started to warm up to him, Eddie still found himself with plenty of downtime as the guinea pigs quietly went about their business.

That afternoon, as the guinea pigs dozed off after their midday snack, Eddie found himself drawn to his guitar, which he had brought along just in case he needed something to pass the time. He hadn’t played much since he’d been focused on the guinea pigs, but the itch to strum a few chords was starting to get to him. So, he grabbed his guitar and lay down on the floor, fingers absentmindedly picking at the strings.

He started with something soft, just a few random chords, not really thinking about what he was playing. The sound of the guitar strings filled the room, blending with the soft rustle of hay from the guinea pig cage. Eddie smiled to himself, feeling the familiar comfort of the guitar beneath his fingers.

But as he relaxed into the music, his fingers instinctively drifted into a familiar riff—Metallica's "For Whom the Bell Tolls." The heavy, thrumming notes reverberated through the room, and Eddie couldn’t help but get into it, his fingers moving more confidently across the strings as he lost himself in the music.

He was just starting to really enjoy himself when he noticed something strange. The peaceful quiet of the room had been interrupted by a series of sharp, disapproving clicks. Eddie paused mid-riff and looked over at the cage, where all five guinea pigs were wide awake, teeth chattering in what could only be described as intense disapproval.

Eddie raised an eyebrow, his fingers hovering above the strings. "Seriously, guys?" he muttered, half-amused, half-offended. He plucked another string experimentally, and the chattering grew louder, the guinea pigs shifting restlessly in their cage.

He chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. "What, you don’t like Metallica? I thought you guys had better taste than that." But the guinea pigs weren’t having it—every time he strummed a chord, their chatter became more insistent, as if they were staging a tiny, furry protest.

Eddie couldn’t help but laugh. “Alright, alright, I get it. No Metallica,” he conceded, setting his guitar aside with a grin. “Guess you’re more into the easy-listening stuff, huh?” He rolled onto his back, looking up at the ceiling with a sigh. “Can’t believe I’m getting critiqued by a bunch of guinea pigs,” he muttered to himself, a smile still tugging at his lips.

The room fell back into a peaceful silence, the guinea pigs settling down once more as Eddie let the moment wash over him. He was still smiling, even as he turned his thoughts back to the challenge of getting Elvis to trust him completely.

A few minutes later, he picked up his guitar again, but this time, instead of metal, he gently strummed a softer melody—something calm and soothing, more to the guinea pigs' taste. The chatter subsided, and Eddie felt a small sense of victory as he noticed them relaxing again.

As the days passed, Elvis began to venture closer and closer to Eddie. The once hesitant little guinea pig now seemed less afraid of the strange man who had taken over his home. Eddie noticed the subtle changes—how Elvis would come out of his hiding spot more often, how he’d eat his veggies with less hesitation, and how he’d sometimes watch Eddie with what looked like growing curiosity.

One afternoon, after hours of reading aloud and playing soft melodies on his guitar, Eddie felt the weight of the day catching up to him. The warm afternoon sun filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. The rhythmic sounds of the guinea pigs munching on their food, coupled with the cozy warmth of the bean bag, lulled Eddie into a sleepy daze.

Before he knew it, he had dozed off, his head resting against the back of the bean bag, his breathing slow and steady.

Unbeknownst to Eddie, Elvis had also grown sleepy. The little guinea pig had gradually moved closer to the side of the cage nearest Eddie, his tiny body finally relaxing as he curled up in a pile of hay. For the first time since you had left, Elvis drifted into a deep, peaceful sleep, feeling safe with Eddie nearby.

About an hour later, Eddie stirred awake. His neck ached slightly from the angle he’d been sleeping in, but as he stretched and rubbed his eyes. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but the nap had been surprisingly refreshing. He turned to check on the guinea pigs, expecting to see them scurrying around or nibbling on some hay.

But then he noticed Elvis, who was still lying in the same spot, completely still. Eddie’s smile faded as a pang of worry shot through him. He leaned closer to the cage, his heart starting to race. Elvis wasn’t moving at all.

“Elvis?” Eddie called softly, tapping the side of the cage. “Hey, buddy, you okay?”

There was no response. No twitch of the nose, no flutter of the ears—nothing. Eddie’s mind immediately jumped to the worst-case scenario. Was Elvis…? No, he couldn’t be. But the stillness, the lack of movement, made Eddie’s stomach twist in fear.

Panic set in as Eddie quickly reached out to gently pet Elvis’ white crest, his hands trembling. “Elvis, come on, don’t do this to me,” he murmured, trying to nudge the guinea pig gently. But Elvis remained motionless, his tiny body limp and unresponsive.

“Oh god,” Eddie breathed, his voice tinged with desperation. “Y/N’s gonna kill me. I’m so sorry, Elvis, I didn’t—”

He froze mid-sentence, his brain scrambling for a solution. Maybe Elvis was just in a deep sleep, right? Maybe he just needed a little incentive to wake up. Eddie’s eyes darted around the room, searching for something—anything—that might help.

Then he remembered the parsley. Seemingly Elvis’ favorite thing to snack.

Practically diving for the drawer, Eddie grabbed a sprig of parsley, his hands shaking as he brought it up to Elvis’s nose. “Come on, little guy,” Eddie begged, holding his breath and praying to whatever god might hear him right now. “I know you love this stuff. Just wake up, please.”

For a moment, nothing happened. Eddie’s heart pounded in his chest, and he was on the verge of full-blown panic. But then, just as he was about to lose hope, Elvis’s nose twitched. It was barely noticeable at first, but Eddie’s sharp eyes caught it. Then, slowly, Elvis’s whiskers twitched, and he took a long, deep sniff of the parsley.

Eddie nearly sagged with relief. “Oh, thank God,” he muttered, watching as Elvis’s eyes fluttered open, the guinea pig groggily lifting his head to nibble on the parsley. The sight of Elvis happily munching away, casually as if nothing happened, made Eddie laugh out loud, though his laughter was shaky with the remnants of his panic.

"You scared the hell out of me, you little rascal,” Eddie said, his voice filled with both amusement and lingering relief. He gently stroked Elvis’s fur as the guinea pig chewed contentedly, seemingly unaware of the scare he’d just given Eddie.

Eddie sat back on the bean bag, his heart rate gradually returning to normal as he watched Elvis eat. The little guy had just been in a deep sleep, completely comfortable in Eddie’s presence. Eddie couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride—Elvis finally trusted him enough to sleep so soundly, something that seemed impossible just days ago.

Eddie chuckled to himself, shaking his head. “You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?” he teased, though his tone was affectionate. “But hey, at least I know how to wake you up now.”

For the rest of the day, Elvis stayed close to Eddie, either nestled in his hoodie or perched on his chest as Eddie lay on the couch. They watched TV together, with Eddie flipping through channels until he found an old movie that wouldn’t be too loud or scary.

When you returned that evening, the first thing you noticed was the unusual stillness in your living room. Expecting the usual rustling of hay and the soft chattering of your guinea pigs, you tiptoed in, not wanting to disturb whatever was happening. As you rounded the corner, the sight before you made you stop in your tracks, your heart melting instantly.

Eddie Munson, the chaotic, metal-as-fuck guy you knew, was stretched out on your couch, his wild curls splayed out on the cushion, with Elvis nestled snugly inside his hoodie, just below his chin. The two of them were watching some cheesy sitcom, but it was clear they were both on the verge of dozing off. Elvis looked completely at ease, his tiny nose twitching as he snuggled deeper into Eddie’s hoodie.

You had to stifle a giggle, half from the absurdity of the scene and half from the warmth it brought to your chest. You almost didn’t want to disturb them, but curiosity got the better of you. “How the hell did you do that?” you whispered, eyes wide with amazement. Elvis had always been so fixated on you, never letting anyone else get near him, let alone cuddle up like that. Not even your closest friends or family had managed to gain his trust like this.

Eddie stirred at the sound of your voice, blinking groggily as he turned his head to look at you. A slow, sleepy grin spread across his face when he saw the look of disbelief on yours. He glanced down at Elvis, who remained contentedly curled up, his little body rising and falling with Eddie’s steady breaths. “Oh, this?” Eddie said with a playful smirk, his voice still heavy with sleep. “I found out he’s a sucker for parsley. And, well… your perfume.”

Your eyes widened as you stepped closer, leaning in to catch the familiar scent lingering on Eddie’s hoodie. Sure enough, there it was - your perfume, the one you always wore. The realization hit you like a warm wave, making your heart flutter. “You’re wearing my perfume?” you asked, half amused, half touched by the gesture.

Eddie chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “What can I say? Figured if I couldn’t be you, I could at least smell like you. Gotta say, I think it’s working. Might have to start wearing this stuff all the time, I think it suits me, don’t you?” He winked, clearly enjoying your reaction.

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“Ridiculously charming,” he teased, raising an eyebrow as if daring you to disagree. “I mean, it worked, didn’t it? This little guy’s all about the Munson charm now.” He gently stroked Elvis’s fur with the back of his finger, the guinea pig letting out a contented little purr in response.

“Looks like he’s not the only one,” you muttered under your breath, though a smile tugged at your lips as you said it.

Eddie’s grin widened as he caught your words, his eyes softening as he looked at you. “Is that so?” he drawled, his tone light but his gaze warm.

You rolled your eyes, but there was no denying the flutter in your stomach. “Maybe,” you replied, your voice just above a whisper.

For a moment, the room was quiet, filled only with the soft sounds of the sitcom. You gently draped a blanket over Eddie and Elvis, who both looked completely content in their shared little cocoon. The sight of Eddie, usually so loud and full of energy, lying there with your favorite guinea pig snuggled up against him, melted away any lingering doubts you had about him.

“Thanks for taking care of them,” you said softly, your hand lingering on the blanket for just a moment longer than necessary.

“Anytime,” Eddie replied. “I kinda get it now. Why you’re so into these little guys. Elvis is pretty cool once you get past the whole ‘tiny ball of anxiety’ thing.” His voice was sincere, though the playful glint in his eye remained. “But just so you know, I’m expecting a bonus for going above and beyond the call of duty here.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh? And what kind of bonus are we talking about?”

He grinned, tilting his head slightly as he looked up at you. “How about dinner? You know, as a thank you. And maybe you could tell me more about this perfume - I’m thinking of making it my signature scent.”

You laughed, the sound light and genuine. “Dinner, huh? I suppose I owe you that much.”

Eddie’s smile softened, his teasing fading into something more genuine. “You don’t owe me anything,” he said quietly, “but I wouldn’t mind spending more time with you. And Elvis, of course. We make a pretty good team.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and as you looked down at the two of them, the warmth in your chest spread until it felt like you might burst. Maybe there was something special here - something you hadn’t expected to find.

“Well,” you said, your voice soft, “I guess dinner it is.”

xxx

I wrote this just for myself because I miss my little diva so so much. But I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless. The picture above is one of my favorites, Elvis in his favorite blanket, sleeping on my hand.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson one shot #eddie stranger things #guinea pigs #eddie munson x fem!reader

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cliosunshine · 2 days ago

Text

𝐎𝐟 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐚𝐭𝐬 𝐈𝐈

Jason Todd x dragon trainer!reader

Summary: after a portal mysteriously opened in your world, setting all of your dragons loose, you must find a way to take them all back home before it's too late and before you catch feelings for a certain cute guy in a red helmet

Warnings: none, slight mention of mythological creature abuse, Jason and reader begin to bond

Word count: 3.2k

A/N: second part to my first ever fic! I was happy so many of you enjoyed it, please let me know if you'd like a third part <3

As you walked around the cave, all you could do was admire the advanced technology surrounding you. You were craning your head up to get a better view of the animatronic T-Rex, a cup of tea in your hand. It was kindly offered to you by what you could only assume to be Batman’s butler, Alfred. The old man had kind eyes and also gave you a slice of pecan pie, which you really couldn’t refuse, especially after everyone in the room heard your stomach grumbling.

“So, tell me,” you started to say, swishing the amber liquid in your cup, “how can we find a way to get me and my dragons back home if we don’t know who opened the portal in the first place and where it was activated?”

Batman let out a contemplative hum, his back turned to you. He was sitting at the console typing away. “We need to check all of the security cameras in the city and also take a look at the air’s static and electromagnetic radiations that have possibly interfered with the electronic devices in Gotham”

The others were in the room as well, each one of them with their brows furrowed, having clearly switched to ‘professional’ mode, as you liked to call it.

With their domino masks and helmets gone, you could see how the three young men – Nightwing, Red Hood and Robin – starkly resembled Batman. You didn’t know why they decided to reveal their identities. Thinking it over, you realised they actually didn’t since you couldn’t recognise them and they hadn’t given you their real names. It probably figured that since you came from another universe altogether, you’d pose no threat to their identity.

Your gaze lingered on Red Hood’s face. He had a rugged yet defined look to him that didn’t let your eyes glance away. Be it the greenish eyes, the white streak on is hair or the scar on his neck, but you couldn’t look away. You must’ve been staring pretty intensely since he lowered his gaze onto yours, a slight blush creeping up his neck and covering his ears.

You quickly looked away, your own face heating up in embarrassment at being caught.

Jason cleared his throat, trying his best not to let a chuckle escape him at your flustered reaction.

Cass raised a brow at you two, tilting her head to the side curiously.

“We should go out and stop the dragons before they cause even more damage,” quipped Dick all of a sudden, quickly rising to his feet with newfound energy.

You clasped your hands together, nodding in agreement.

“Yes! We should-”

Roarrr

Your brows furrowed at the noise. It clearly came from the batcave, but that wasn’t a voice you recognised at all.

You looked at the others with a puzzled expression. They all seemed rather calm and even amused by the sound.

“This way, Goliath, please, use your legs for once in your life-”

You turned to where Robin’s voice came and your expression lit up upon seeing the cutest and fluffiest red dragon just mere meters from you.

“Aww who’s this now?” you asked as you approached the creature.

Robin pushed the dragon towards you to no avail and you couldn’t help but chuckle at the scene.

“He’s- Goliath-” he explained between pushes, clearly out of breath.

The dragon eyed you warily.

You smiled softly at him, extending a hand for him to sniff, “He can probably smell the other dragons on me,” you explained as you saw his ears perk up upon smelling your skin.

He gave you a look of approval and you began stroking his red fur. It was far softer than you had anticipated and it had a weird feeling to it. You pulled your hand back, examining it.

You grimaced as you saw your entire hand covered in a shiny, slippery substance.

“Why is he covered in oil?”

Robin gave you a pleading look for half a second, before regaining his usual stoic composure.

“He’s been itching a lot for the past few weeks and we figured that-…uhm…the best way to treat him was to put an ointment on his body,” he explained, your wild out gaze on his making him freak out internally that he somehow messed up.

“Poor Goliath,” you cooed at the dragon, scratching his chin. You were grateful that you couldn’t bring Obsidian in the cave with you or he would have thrown a jealous fit. You continued your ministrations as you gave him a once over. His skin was reddened because of the itch and the ointment and he continued to scratch his ears.

“I think he may have a skin infection,” you diagnosed, cleaning your hands with a tissue Robin gave you. “If I were at the sanctuary, I would make him a sage compress and given him a two-week treatment.”

You sighed in contemplation, wondering what to do.

Robin came over to you, a map in his hands, “Gotham’s botanical park is a few blocks away from here. Nobody’s there during the night so maybe we could break in and get the ingredients you need.”

You raised your brows at him, amused by the fact that a vigilante would actually commit a break in and theft.

Sounds of agreement followed his proposition and you could only nod along.

“We can drop by and get the ingredients while we search for the other dragons,” suggested Nightwing, looking over at you. You nodded again.

“Great then,” he said, clapping his hands once, “We need to separate so we can cover more ground,”

Immediately hands flew up and shouts were exchanged about who was going to team up with who.

“I wanna go with the bat!” snickered Spoiler, “I can’t wait to see him try to catch a dragon”

Batman still had his back turned, but was definitely listening to the conversation because his shoulders stiffened.

“No, I must go with Batman, I’m Robin after all-”

“You wouldn’t even tease him like I would!”

The bickering stopped as everyone’s attention snapped onto Orphan, who was signing something.

“What did she say?” you asked, not being able to understand her and honestly just having learned a few signs for one of your deaf dragons, nothing more.

Nighwing beamed, “She said that you and Hood over here should team up and search for both the dragons and the herbs together”

Oh.

You and Red Hood both looked at each other and you suddenly registered what was bound to happen.

You and this incredibly attractive stranger on Obsidian’s back.

Oh fuck.

You laughed nervously and he seemed to mimic you.

“Uhm, alright then,” you squeaked out, feeling everyone’s eyes on you, even Batman’s.

“Off you go, then, shoo,” Nightwing escorted you to the exit of the batcave, earning more than a few grumbled cusses from Red Hood – or should you just call him Hood?

You hardly managed to choke out a “goodbye” before the door closed centimetres from your face.

“What a dickhead,” said the vigilante next to you, this time with only his domino mask on, “I apologise on his behalf- he doesn’t know when to shut up,” he says with an irritated groan.

You chuckle at that, reassuring him. As you approached your dragon, you glanced up at him once more, taking in how his sharp features contrasted greatly with the soft curls of his black hair.

The moonlight gave him a sort of vampiresque look and you couldn’t help but notice how his eyes seemed to…glow? It seemed as if his blueish-greenish eyes did a complete 180 and became this neon green colour.

You narrowed your eyes at that, continuing to walk.

Meanwhile, Jason side eyed you the entire walk back to Obsidian.

His mind wandered as he tried to come up with possible explanations about this whole situation. Who were you and where did you even come from. He wasn’t buying the whole “Oh, I come from Earth!” thing and neither were his brothers. Maybe there was a possibility that you truly came from a parallel universe were apparently dragons existed, but then why hadn’t they had at least one encounter with these anomalies before?

He thought back to Superman and Krypton. Although it probably wasn’t the exactly same thing, he guessed that if Bruce was allies and friends (although he’d never admit it) with Clark, then anything was possible.

He also found you really pretty and not alien-looking at all, but that’s beside the point.

His eyes wandered back to the lasso on your utility belt. He had sworn that when it was up in the air, swinging above your head in loose circles it looked exactly like Wonder Woman’s.

He had to ask you about that later. For now, he could only grief his bike even further as he took a good look at the dragon in front of him that looked like it wanted to tear his head off.

He could only reciprocate the glare as your back was turned to both of them, fishing out your list of ingredients that were needed to make the compress.

“Ok, so” you started, oblivious to the death stare contest between Jason and the dragon, “are you ready for a once-in-a-lifetime experience?”

Jason looked at your excited expression and gulped nervously when your dragon huffed begrudgingly, clearly not wanting to let him on.

“You sure about me getting on this thing?” Those were fighting words for the dragon, who shrieked offended at being called a thing.

You tried to not worsen things further, putting your palm out in dissuasion, smiling nervously.

“He can understand your every word, Hood” you explained, your nervous and apologetic tone prompting Jason to see in the corner of his eye how the black dragon huffed in agreement, the smoke coming out of his nostrils making him wince.

He rubbed his neck sheepishly, “Sorry, I didn’t realize”

You waved him off with a smile, “It’s all good. Have you ever ridden a horse before?”

Jason took a second to think to himself – have I ever rode a horse before? - . He didn’t know if he had no memory of doing so from all the concussions he’s had this year alone or because your gaze was making him slightly nervous. Yeah, it was probably the latter.

“No,” was all he manged to blurt out, really not wanting to get on your dragon’s back.

“Good, because it’s nothing like it!” You laughed out, your shoulders relaxing, “I feared you would’ve been one of those people who tried to get Obi moving by slightly kicking on his stomach because trust me – it would’ve ended badly”

Jason didn’t find humour in that, but chuckled along nevertheless.

He watched as you hopped on your dragon’s back with elegance and precision, not a single movement wasted. He also took notice at how Obsidian helped you up by lowering one of his wings. He put his helmet on, missing your disappointed look at his now covered face.

“Come on, take my hand and put your right foot on Obi’s wing bone” you instructed as you pointed at where your foot previously was, your other hand outstretched for him to take.

Jason looked at your hand, then at your face. He looked at your hand again.

You couldn’t possibly lift half his body weight up with a single hand, right? A hand that was significant smaller than this, nonetheless.

“Are you sure about this? I’m a big guy, I don’t want to – Oh shit!”

He didn’t finish his sentence as you bent down to grab his hand and Obsidian nudged his foot on his wing, only to lift his whole body up as if he weighted nothing and fling him up in the hair. Jason screamed as he tried not to fly right into the bush behind you. He thankfully didn’t as your tight grip on his hand prevented him from becoming the next rocket man of Gotham.

He landed right behind you, his whole body shaking as he tried to regain his composure.

“Don’t worry about me, Obi does all the heavy lifting,” you said as you laughed so much that tears started to form at the corners of your eyes. Your dragon seemed to mimic your laugh with huffs and puffs as he moved his head up and down with closed eyes.

Behind you, sitting with an unamused expression and arms crossed over his chest, Jason had a half-mind to just ditch the two of you and walk to the botanic garden alone.

Your laugh quieted down and you looked back at him, this time with a genuinely apologetic look in your eyes.

He lifted the corners of his mouth ever so slightly, thankful for his helmet covering his face.

At least someone had the guts to mess with him like that.

“Hold on tightly. I’m warning you, I’ll try to go as slowly as I can but Obi doesn’t like men that much and will actively try to throw you off, so it’s better if you hold onto me, that way he won’t do it,” you told Jason and he glanced down at the dragon, who was already looking at him with an already mischievous look in his eyes. Fucking hell. He hoped to survive his first ever dragon ride.

Jason lifted his hands that were previously on his lap and carefully held your waist, only his gloves and a few layers of clothes separating your skin from his. He swore he could feel the warmth radiating from your body.

“I said tighter, Hood,” you told him in a firmer tone, to which he responded by getting closer to you and pressing his chest to your back, his arms now circling your waist tightly.

He could feel your heartbeat picking up significantly and smiled to himself.

“O-okay, that’s better,” you managed to squeak out before tapping your dragon’s neck once.

The sudden movement made him spread out his wings and soon enough you found yourselves up in the air, taking in Gotham’s skyline from above.

Jason couldn’t help but bring you in even tighter, trying his best not to hinder your mobility as you tapped Obsidian’s ears to signal when to turn, opting your practiced tapping signs rather than having to shout out directions, now that you had someone else riding with you.

“Is this the place?” you turned around towards Jason as you got closer to a sign that had “Gotham Public Botanic Garden” written in dark green letters.

Jason nodded, not being able to utter a sound as the proximity between you two made him nervous. He was accustomed to being held from behind when he rescued civilians and tried to take them someplace safe, but to hold on to someone and trust them with his life as he travelled on a dragon’s back? Yeah, that was a new one for him.

You patted Obsidian’s back twice, prompting him to land near the entrance. Thankfully no one was in sight as Jason figured you would’ve gotten more than a few odd looks.

He was the first one to hop off the dragon’s back, already missing your body’s warmth as he tried to hold on to whatever remains where left of it on his leather jacket.

You then slid down, petting Obsidian’s snout with tenderness and placing your lips near his spiked cheek, “Thanks, Obi. Now let’s go, we need to find quite a few things to help Goliath out.”

As you made your way through the various greenhouses, Jason walked by your side and Obsidian on the opposite one, protecting you from harm.

If he could say one good thing about that damn dragon, Jason would praise him for his protectiveness over you. He noticed how, from the very start, he always kept his eyes trained on you, not missing a single sign of discomfort and immediately taking action when he felt like you were being threatened.

Other than that, he was a complete jerk.

You continued to walk in peaceful silence that was only interrupted by you telling him you found another herb needed for the compress.

When you had almost gone through the whole list, Jason spoke up.

“How do you know so much about dragons?” he asked, curiosity lacing his voice.

You smiled fondly at nothing in particular, as if reminiscing some good memories.

“You see,” you continued walking, your gaze never leaving the herbs in your hand, “I was absolutely distraught at how the majority of the people where I come from treat animals that aren’t your usual house pets, especially dragons. They would more often than not abuse, torture and kill them just for fun or to boast to others how they managed to kill a dragon-” you cut yourself off with a shaky breath, anger evident in your voice and your eyes.

Obsidian nudged your arm with a sad face, letting out a low grumble and you smiled weakly at him. Jason wanted to put an arm around your shoulders and pull you close to him, but he restrained himself.

“I found Obi one morning while working out in the park,” you continued, “and he was so cute, sitting there in that box that he accidentally had set on fire, so chubby and round with those big amber eyes- gosh he was adorable,” you chuckled, a single tear managing to escape and running down your cheek. Jason’s hand twitched by his side.

“I took him home. My parents were seething with rage at the thought of me taking care of a dragon, an animal everybody in our community despised. So I left home and went to live with my best friend, Katie, in a house near our hometown’s lake and from there, piece by piece, we learned more about dragons as we rescued them.”

Jason stayed silent, your words making him see you in a new light. He admired your strength and perseverance, your will to not give up and go against your parents to do what you knew was right. He saw a lot of himself in you and he liked that.

“That’s incredible…wait, I never got your name” he paused embarrassed, having completely forgotten to ask your name at the batcave.

You smiled softly, not a hint of offence in your kind eyes, “No biggie,” you shrugged light-heartedly, “it’s Y/N”.

“That’s a pretty name.”

“Thanks”

You stayed like that for a while, content in the silent agreement you both had settled upon. Jason liked you. you weren’t over the top like his siblings were, but also not a complete recluse who disdained human contact, as often found himself to be like. You were…you. And he liked that.

Soon enough, you had gathered all your ingredients and were getting back onto Obsidian’s back. This time the dragon was much gentler with Jason. He probably felt the shift in demeanour you and him had during the walk and eased up on him. Jason was grateful for not getting hauled up like a ragdoll a second time.

As you were back up into the air, a sense of tranquillity engulfed the both of you before a faraway shriek reminded Jason that you still had another dozen or so more dragons to find and bring back to the manor.

Exchanging a look with you, he observed you directing Obsidian to where you had heard the sound, before a blaze interrupter your path and a pair of glowing eyes were set on the three of you.

Jason’s blood ran cold and his mouth moved faster than his thoughts could as he pointed a gun at the fire-spitting dragon.

“That’s the fucker that melter my bike!”

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #dc x reader #jason todd fic #red hood x reader #dc comics #jason todd x y/n

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palesweetscherryblossom · 2 days ago

Text

A Cat’s purr

Warning: Mention of child neglect, murder, Yandere behavior, tumblr divider was made by @strangergraphics

Life in your tiny mountain village was considered to be very mundane and uneventful. Well, aside from the fearsome cat beast that’d been terrorizing the place. The current explanation was that your village head had struck a deal with the Bakeneko and had failed to deliver his end of the bargain.

Angered by this, the cat yokai had declared vengeance on your village and he wasn’t bluffing either. First, the creature had killed half of his livestock. Then scared away all the distributors who traded with the citizens with wolves.

Disturbingly, he got strangely playful with his torment. Turning poor villagers into mice and chasing them like it was a game, dancing as a cruel taunt and then delivered a horrible famine to the place.

‘I won’t stop till I’m given what I’m owed, stupid humans.’ It’d hissed when people had pleaded for it to cease its torment. It was agreed upon that something had to be done.

You were the child of a poor family and you were humbly offered up for the task. After all, no one would miss you.

Bitter winds swept over your form as you trudged through the unforgiving snow. E/c eyes wandered to your lantern which was loosing light. Your mind was elsewhere though, swarming with pleasant, comfy thoughts of warm blankets and pillows, a hot meal and loving hugs.

Your family had preferred to busy themselves with their jobs and children that they had actually wanted. You were just the unfortunate “accident.” Always the last to eat and be acknowledged.

So you spent your time either in nature or your schoolwork. The only time you got genuine attention was from a strange cat.

A simple blue colored one, with red eyes and sharp teeth. It’d been nice enough to sit with you when you were by the pond. It let you pet it, occasionally purring and going as far as to loaf in your lap.

Your thoughts were interrupted by you tripping on a branch. “Ack!” You seethed with pain as your lantern rolled down a steep hill as you focused on the pain. “Ow, ow, o-ow..” You sniffled almost childishly, clutching your ankle as you tried to get up. Then you heard a low meow.

Tomura hadn’t considered himself soft for humans. He regarded them as weak, soft creatures who couldn’t tell their hand apart from their ass. Except for you.

You were a gentle little thing. He’d spotted you by the koi pond, a place where he’d get a little snack every now and then. You were there, crying your eyes out.

At first Tomura wanted to mess with you but changed his tune when you regarded him with gentleness. You didn’t swat him away or yell at him, you let him come to you.

You’d given him a sad plight, you weren’t getting the attention you deserved and were being treated like a ghost rather than a child. Tomura was reminded of his mate, who was abandoned after getting too sick to take care of.

Imagine his disgust and shock to see you, all out in the cold with nothing to protect yourself.

“Isn’t this a shame.” He rasped, catching your attention. “I thought you humans were pack types, not loners.” He mused, sitting by you.

You tried scooting away, for you realized that this was the Bakeneko you were destined to slay. “Ah, ah, don’t strain yourself, kit.” Tomura chided, getting closer. “I’m a friend.” He purred.

“W-what do you want?” You sniffled, trying to wipe away your tears. “A-are you going to h-hurt me?” Tomura shook his head.

“No, I don’t bother with little mice like you.” He stretched before turning to you. “You know, little kittens shouldn’t be out at this time of night. Should be in bed.” Shigaraki tilted his head.

“I-I know.. I-I just gotta s-slay you.” You weakly whispered, trying to muster up strength.

“But how could you do that when you can barely get up?” Tomura teased. “Don’t strain yourself, kitten.” You frowned at the patronizing tone he took.

“I-I’m not a kitten, I’m a human.” You huffed, weakly swatting him away. Tomura chuckled, hopping on your chest.

“Hmm, nope. You’re just like a kitten. Small, helpless, cute.” He bapped his paw at your face gently. “Where’s your pack, hm? Surely they didn’t send someone as frail like you out.”

You let out a brittle whimper. They did. Just handed you a flimsy knife and told you to find the beast! While everyone else was warm and cozy in their homes, you were freezing to death and being taunted by the creature!

“Oh, don’t cry.” Tomura’s soft voice brought you back to reality. “They really did send you out here by yourself, huh?” You nodded weakly, earning a sympathetic meow from him.

“Poor kitten, my poor baby.” He purred, nuzzling your face. You couldn’t stop yourself now, fully crying as you held him.

“Shh, it’s alright. There there my poor thing.” He purred, delivering a few kitten licks. His parental instincts were kicking up slowly, watching you sob helplessly only amplified them. You didn’t deserve to suffer like this, no. Those filthy humans had no right treating his kit like this.

“You know, you don’t have to go back.” He murmured, slowly transforming into his more humanoid form. “Why don’t you come with me? I’ll keep you warm, fed and cozy in my home.” You snuggled up to him for warmth, weakly nodding off.

“Your wish is my command, my sweet kit.”

You were never seen again

#platonic yandere #yandere mha #yandere shigaraki #Bakeneko Shigaraki #child reader

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hannahssimblr · 3 hours ago

Text

We surface eventually, and clamber down the back stairs and out into sharp morning light, squinting against the sun. I feel like a vampire. My friends’ faces are gaunt and drawn, eyes still black. They look like they’ve been dead for a week.

Except Jen, sober Jen, who smiles sleepily and stretches her arms, breath condensing in the cold air. “God, that was mad,” she says. “What time is it?”

“Eight,” I say. Being out in the daylight like this is always weird, with families walking around, people going to work, while we are like creatures who have dug our way out of the earth, lurching toward home amongst the living. My mouth is so dry, and my jaw hurts. I foresee an afternoon spent throwing up, head in the toilet bowl, groaning as Jonas hammers on the door, appealing to my sense of humanity by reminding me there’s only one bathroom in the apartment.

“Oh, well, I should probably pack my bags and stuff.” Jen says.

I rub my eyes. “Oh, your flight.”

“Oh, Jen,” Dalia says with a big sad face, “I wish you could stay,” they hug, and rock each other side to side. “Please, come back and visit. This was so fun.”

“I swear!” Jen says. “I love you guys. Come see me in Dublin!”

“Don’t make them go there,” I say, to which she laughs. “Actually, yeah. Never mind. I’ll come back here! And for longer!”

“Please!” Elias and Dalia cry in unison, and then we leave, trudging toward the train station.

She snoozes on my shoulder on the U-Bahn, while Jonas and I, wired, wide awake, stare at our reflections in the window all the way back to Kreutzberg.

I lie on my bed, eyes on the cracks on the ceiling, while Jen shoves things into her suitcase. She’s cleaned off all her makeup, leaving black smudged wiped crumpled on the surrounding floor.

“This was so fun,” she’s saying. “I had such a good time. I mean, last night was amazing. Did you see I kissed that girl with the fan?”

“The fan?”

“Yeah, she was carrying this weird, lacy fan. Anyway, she was dead pretty. I wish I’d gotten her number.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I tried, but she didn’t speak English. There was no point.”

“So you didn’t speak before you starting kissing her.”

“No, we didn’t need to. I just met her eyes across the dancefloor and we both knew.”

“Ah, nice.”

The mattress shifts under her weight, and her face slides into my vision, pink cheeked, with eyeliner still smudged in the spaces between her lashes. “You’re coming down.”

“Yep.”

“Poor Judie. Rough day ahead.”

“Honestly, it’ll probably be a few days. A week, even.”

“Oof. Do you do this a lot?”

“Too much, probably.”

“Oh well,” she plonks back down to the rug and continues shoving things into her case. “At least I know you’re having fun over here. I’d be worried you’re suffering.”

“Do you worry about that?”

“Kind of.”

I laugh gently. “No, Jenny. I’m not suffering. Things are good.”

She struggles with the zip, and it rasps lowly against the bulk. “I was worried I wouldn’t like your friends, you know. I’m glad I met them, because they’re amazing.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I wish they were my friends. Jonas is adorable. Elias too, so fun, and Dalia is probably the coolest girl I ever met in my life. I never got to ask her what part of America she comes from.”

“Pittsburgh.”

“I dunno where that is.”

“Nowhere close to where I grew up.”

“You sound different when you talk to her.”

Turning my head is an effort, and the room lurches a little. Later, I’ll probably be so dizzy that standing up feels like getting off the waltzers. “How so?”

“Your accent gets more American. Did you know that?”

“No.”

“Well, it does. I suppose when you’re talking to someone from the states you kind of copy what they’re doing, or something. It’s just funny, because you weren’t like that at home.”

“With dad?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, it’s not like I really talk to him, is it?”

She pauses thoughtfully. “Well, I’ve heard you say ‘okay’ to him a few times.”

“Hm,” I say. “Well, maybe I’ll lose my Irish accent while I’m here.”

“Would you like to?”

I shrug. “Sure.”

I shut my eyes in the hopes it will stave off the wave of dizziness that comes over me. My temples throb gently with the onset of a headache. I half listen as Jen goes on about how great my friends are, Jonas, Elias, Dalia. Perhaps she’s hoping I won’t notice who she has left out, but she is wrong.

“What did you think of Astrid?” I say, and she pauses, just for a beat, before answering with enormous enthusiasm.

“Oh, she’s gorgeous. You were right. Even better in person than in the pictures.”

“Yeah.” I roll on my side. “She’s incredible looking, I know, but… like, did you like her?”

“Of course I did.”

“Yeah?”

“She’s so nice.”

I hesitate. Astrid isn’t that nice. At least it’s not a word I would use to describe her ahead of something like intelligent, confident, shrewd. Out of all the traits she has that I admire, I couldn’t say her niceness is something that sticks out. It’s not important to me, and I require it from her. Nice isn’t untrue, exactly, but it's not a real answer.

“Your opinion is really important to me,” I say, and she busies herself in her backpack, double checking for her phone charger and passport.

“No, I mean it,” she says distractedly. “She seems to care a lot about you, and that’s the main thing, you know what I mean?”

On my elbow now, I look at her, pulling things out of her bag and shoving them back in, and my anxiety rises. I wanted our dinner to go a little better, sure, and they could have hit it off more than they did, but Astrid is Astrid. She’s a tough nut to crack at the first meeting. It takes a while for her to warm up, to get comfortable. She takes some getting used to.

“I know things were a bit awkward there, when we were talking about school, and she didn’t have anything to say and all that.”

She waves this off. ‘No, it’s fine. She didn’t have to say anything. I was more worried about whether we were annoying her by talking about it so much.”

“I doubt it.”

“It’s alright, like, she doesn’t need to have the same humour as me.”

I frown. “Well, you and I have the same humour. In fact, we’re so alike that I thought you’d get along with her.”

“We got along.”

“But you weren’t bowled over.”

She sighs, “Jude, don’t make me talk myself into an awkward position.”

“I’m not doing that. I’m just wondering what you thought.”

“Yeah, but it’s like you’re not accepting my answer.”

“You haven’t answered.”

“I have. I said she’s nice.”

“Yeah, but like, ‘nice’ is a non-answer.”

“She’s not what I expected, right? But there’s nothing wrong with that. I just always thought you’d prefer to go out with a girl that laughed at the same things as you, or was silly and goofy, or, I don’t know, less… severe. I’ll meet Astrid again, and I’m sure I’ll be bowled over. We just didn’t have a lot of time to get to know each other. It was only a few hours, and, I dunno, Jonas was there too, and I was talking to him, mostly.”

“I–” I decide to ignore the first part about the girls I supposedly like. “Well, I hope so. I’d be pretty sad if my girlfriend and my best friend didn’t get along.”

“Everyone is friendly here.”

“Right.”

“I can tell you don’t believe me.”

I sigh reluctantly, and fall back onto the bed. My headache makes my brain slosh against the inside of my skull. “Jenny, I do. I believe you,” I say. “And I’m glad you like her. It’d be really fucking shit for me if you didn’t.”

“Well, I do.”

“I’m glad.”

“Good.”

Beginning // Prev // Next

#lucky boy 2011 #sorry for late post I’m painting a ceiling lol #sims 4 story #ts4 #sims 4 #sims 4 storytelling #sims storytelling #sims story #simblr #simblr story

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fandoms-in-law · 23 hours ago

Text

A Demon's Safehouse

Summary: Steve isn't 'neglected' or 'abandoned', He's a child who got sold to a demon before ever being born. He knows why the demon isn't around just like he knows xir roar as he fights demobats off after being yanked into the upside down.

Everyone else involved in his life and the Upside Down do not know who/what this is or why they're getting deposited in a safehouse all together.

Author's note: If you want to read this in separate chapters, it's done like that on AO3, but honestly, I'm not making 11 posts and messing about linking them all today, so tumblr can have it all in one post. This is based on/ an expansion of an idea I shared august 2023 but as that scene is included in the fic, I don't think it needs linking either. Please enjoy.

/\/\

It wasn’t something Steve spoke about, finding it too complicated to explain for nobody to believe him. Then it felt too personal, or too much like Nancy’s gun would be trained back on him never moving, to share at all.

Then again, his friends finding out like this wasn’t much more preferable either.

Perhaps the Upside Down actually was connected to Hell for his owner’s roar to be echoing through the trees. Perhaps he wasn’t about to die at the hands of these bat-like creatures.

Steve had been trying to fight, had managed to get the bat choking him off once Nancy, Robin and Eddie appeared to help fight with him, but now he dropped, the roar ringing through him as he realised he demonic owner was aware he’d been, was being, attacked. The command to stay out of it didn’t need stating beyond that noise.

“Steve, get the fuck back up! Nancy demanded in a scream. “We have to keep-” Her words cut off as his owner threw her and Robin to the ground beside him, and Steve could see Eddie dropping similarly to how he had at the sight.

“Xe enforces orders if they aren’t immediately followed.” He explained, fairly sure that only gave his ex more questions.

“Xe?” Robin asks, wriggling to grab his hand. “Xe is a name for the thing eviscerating the bats? Xe gave no orders?”

Steve laughs, “Xir pronoun. You’ll get used to it and you wouldn’t have understood it.”

A low snarl had him laughing more as he sat up, “This is what sends you on the rampage? A few bat creatures? Forget Jonathan, the demogorgan, demodogs, mindflayer, Hargrove or the Russians, this is what makes you all possessive?”

“Are you making a joke? Why are two of those beginning demon?” There’s venom in xir voice and Steve huffs, dialling back his amusement before he got in trouble. It might not have happened before but if being made to follow orders was unpleasant he didn’t want to know what a punishment would mean.

“Nancy’s brother and his friends used their game to name things. Dorks and dragons.” He explained. “And should I mention thinking this place is a hive mind? Everything but us possibly connected and wanting us dead?”

Xe growled again, but snapped xir claw moving all of them out of the Upside Down, Steve hoped.

/\/\

Steve and the demon were the only ones to remain standing when they appeared in the safehouse and he looked around half curiously. He’d only been a few times in his life and knew the rooms changed by themselves so wanted to figure out if he’d been in their current room before.

“Stay here. I’ll get the rest then sort out whatever went on there.” Xe ordered, already turning to leave.

Steve chuckled, calling back “How would you expect us to leave?”

“How did you get there!” The exasperated call hadn’t finished when xe vanished.

Nancy had stood in the exchange and glared at him. “Who and what was that? Where are we, Steve?” She demanded.

“A safehouse.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, still a bit amused. “That was a demon, specifically xir my owner, something about a deal before I was born.”

“So the Upside Down is hell?” Robin asked, chipper as if that would distract Nancy from her annoyance.

Steve shrugged, “Maybe, don’t know. Wouldn’t have said so if xe hadn’t shown up.” Thinking about it made him snicker at the thought demons had been coming after him for years and xe hadn’t known until now.

Nancy’s eyes glinted as she started to ask something else but broke off at the sound of Erica Sinclair yelling in the next room.

“You don’t abduct kids! Put us back! This is – Steve?” Erica stopped at the sight of them, hurrying over to Steve and Robin to check they were okay.

Steve grinned, waving to Dustin, Lucas and Max too. “Hey, Xe isn’t much for introductions but in better news, I think xir going to sort this mess out for us.” Staying in the safehouse seemed like a lot more fun with his kids and Robin around. Eddie wasn’t a bad addition either and Nancy would have to calm down sooner or later, right?

“You got yanked into the lake and now we’ve been dragged here by god knows what. What’s going on?” Max asked, nearly demanding and looking around in concern but not fear after realising he was mostly relaxed.

“Demon got possessive over Steve.” Robin teased, leaning over his shoulder, “And has put us all in time out because of it.” Having the pressure on his back reminded Steve that he probably did still need some first aid, but he didn’t feel like bringing that to anyone’s attention. If it was anything like his first stay here then he’d soon be healed regardless.

Dustin’s eyes had lit up at the comment, staring at him with as many questions but at least a slightly less demanding expression than Nancy had. “Demons are real? What are they like? Do they really make deals? Why is one involved now? Is Vecna a demon?” He rattled off the questions all at once and Steve laughed.

“Yes, varied, yes, me and probably not. Does this have to be a constant interrogation?” He answered them all in order still laughing.

“Yes. You’ve hid a lot from us we definitely need to know now. Xe’s you’re parent?” Steve was surprised nobody was checking him for concussions simply because he’s laughing more at the repeated question. Nancy kept glaring as she waited for an answer though, and the kids seemed torn between looking around the house they’d all been deposited in and asking more of their own.

“Xir my owner. You know, demon deals, fairytale deals with witches, that kind of thing?” He stated.

Lucas frowned at him for a moment, “Owned like a pet or like a slave?”

“Same difference. I still have little choice over what I-” He broke off as more yelling broke out. He’d assumed only the kids in Hawkins were getting dragged to this safe house but given that was definitely Mike and Jonathan’s voices apparently he was wrong.

Steve led the others through rooms to the new arrivals just in time for Joyce, Murray, some guy yelling in Russian and Hopper? Somehow Hopper was also appearing.

Robin looked over them and back to Steve. “I know you said xe owns you but xir doing the impossible and raising the dead. Joyce, what deal did you make?”

A look of added confusion at the question told Steve enough. “Hey Hopper, by any chance were you captured by the Russians at Starcourt and tortured over the last year?”

“Yes but getting kidnapped while escaping was not my expectation.” Hopper agreed, scowling and looking around. “Especially not since it seems everyone else involved in the Upside Down has been too. What does that thing want from us?”

“Xir property to be safe and looked after. Pretty sure xe isn’t bothered beyond that.” Steve flippantly answered. “Honestly xir going further than I expected, so Jonathan, I’m very sorry for mentioning you when xe first turned up.”

Hopper leant back, glaring at him now, rather than around the room. “We’ve been kidnapped by what? Because of you how?”

“A demon I was sold to before I was born. We haven’t been kidnapped, just stored at a safehouse, I think while xe gets rid of the Upside Down entirely? Attacking a demons property isn’t a good idea if xe finds out.”

“Can I kill the Harrington’s? Is that actually the surname of your parents?” Steve had to laugh at Robin’s words, knowing that everyone’s focus was likely to stay on him for a while.

That was also when he properly registered the group around Mike and Jonathan had someone he didn’t know but also had a girl far quieter than he’d have expected. “El? You’re glaring at the wall, not reuniting with Hopper or anyone. Are you okay?” He asked, stepping over to her.

“No.” The reply was succinct but not helpful, and Hopper was moving towards her just as Steve was. “Your demon only put us all in the safehouse but other people helped me too.”

Steve frowned, “I think xe has only gathered people I view as family or who were with and helping people when xe located you all.”

“I was getting my powers back.” She said bluntly. “I need them.”

“Pretty sure you don’t.” Eddie called, waving with a grin when Hopper frowned over at him. “Guessing you’re the supergirl these guys kept mentioning and after seeing Steve’s demon in action, I don’t think you need to worry about fighting anything Upside Down any more.”

“But Jonathan hurt Steve once. I need to protect him.” El retorted.

Steve huffed a laugh out again. He knew his owner wouldn’t hurt him, or share xir name until xe decided he was old enough, but to most of the group xe was an unknown threat that had them captured before they’d got a chance to fight back. Then here was their group’s superhero being the only one to listen and connect what he’d said together. “You’re right. I can’t guarantee I can calm xim down if xe decides Jonathan needs punishing for a fight we had 3 years ago, but I will try to talk to xim first. I will do what I can to protect him, just as much as you will.” He reassured her, before blinking and glancing over to Eddie. “Also, yes Eddie, this is El or Jane as I think she’s legally called now. El, this is Eddie. He’s the DM of the boys club and witnessed the first death of this go around. We’ve been keeping him hidden as the town’s gone full witch hunt after him.”

“This go around?” Jonathan asked, trepidation breaking into his voice as everyone who hadn’t been in Hawkins froze, turning to whomever they were closest to that had stayed in Hawkins.

Robin snickered now, coming to lean over Steve’s shoulder. “Did you think this boy’s owner kidnapped us all for normal shit? Steve was trying to find out if there was a gate where the kid’s compasses pointed and got dragged through. Me, Wheeler and Munson dived in after just in time for xim to show up.”

/\/\

Steve had to get away from being the centre of attention for a while. He got it. Everyone had apparently been dealing with shit and being put in one place together wasn’t really a solution to any of it, but that didn’t mean he had any answers or knowledge beyond having been brought here once before.

After trying and failing to slip away a few times he just ignored the people calling him back, cutting through doors he remembered thinking were cupboards when he was twelve and trying to explore everywhere. He could only hope they’d believe the same now, or be too uncertain over exploring a demon’s home to try going through them.

“You doing okay?” Robin asked, coming through a different door a few minutes later. From the direction he bet she’d watched him leave and gone in the opposite direction out of the room most of the group was trying to stay gathered in. Xe must like her though, because finding him now meant the house had helped her pick the directions to try and find him in.

“Fine.” He muttered, slouching into the chair between bookshelves.

She didn’t reply, just came over to sit on the armrest, leaning over him.

“Slaves are owned by other humans and aren’t free. Children are effectively owned by their parents or guardians and have a time limit on when they should become free. I am owned by a demon and will never be free even in death. It hangs over me and I don’t know what xe wants, or expects from me other than that I’ll have to give it when asked.” He ranted, tugging at his hair in frustration. “When xe explained how to be popular I thought that was xir orders for me, but xe didn’t care when I stopped. Xe suggested I support myself. It wasn’t an order but I took it as one, and now we’re here?”

Robin’s hand brushed his back comfortingly. “You’re still worried about missing xir orders, aren’t you?”

“That growl was the clearest I’ve had in years. It was simple.” He looked at her, showing his fear and confusion. “I’m not free but xir not – I don’t know if I’m trapped either, beyond everyone temporarily being stuck here.”

“So we’re all expecting you to know what’s going on when you’re probably the most lost out of all of us.”

He sighed heavily. “The kids shouldn’t know what I’m going through. They’ve got good parents.”

Robin nodded, sliding into the chair so they were squished together. “Dustin’s trying to get Lucas and Mike to scheme with him over how to buy you from the demon even without knowing much.” She commented. “Will and Eddie meanwhile dodged out of the conversation claiming that they should try to find you after you left. I think they’re actually trying to figure each other out. Will’s upset with the other boys and on edge with Eddie while Eddie is so interested in Will. Apparently the kids apparently talk him up during Hellfire.”

“Ten bucks says one of the next campaigns covers breaking into a demon house.” Steve snorted. “This place treats people differently based on how much xe likes you.”

/\/\

“That boy cares for you and her and immeasurably for those kids. And you? You’re forever two steps from taking one of his kids away cause you never bothered getting to know him.” Xe was quiet, firm and Jonathan didn’t know what was going on.

The demon had come back to the safehouse, spoken to El, nodded through a door at Robin and tugged him through to a separate room. Xe was undeniably dangerous but the mind reading, if that’s what was happening, had him on edge more than any risk of harm.

Still he disagreed. “I know Harrington well enough.”

“Then tell me when he and Nancy broke up.” Xe stated. Something showed xe were annoyed but controlling xirself carefully and part of Jonathan wished he could identify what.

“Tina’s Halloween party in ‘84.”

“When Wheeler was black out drunk and went to seek him out the next day? Nope, they didn’t.”

“Well then that’s when.” It seemed like the logical assumption, but Jonathan stepped back as he realised he only had assumptions now, that Nancy had never said and he hadn’t thought to ask, even through Murray’s matchmaking conversation and that night.

“Still wrong. They were arguing but not breaking up. My boy got her flowers and was going to try talking it through later.” Xe stated and now what xe was saying grew clearer.

Arguably Jonathan was one of the first people involved with the Upside Down and one of the first to take steps to fight back against it, but in that moment he wondered just how much of the story he’d missed. It definitely showed that some of the interpersonal relationships had gone unnoticed or ignored because they focused on Steve Harrington and he hadn’t cared to know.

“I don’t read minds. I see the past and intentions or desires of people. You know nothing of my human. You are blinded by rumours and assumptions plus a bad day which your actions made worse. Lose them and get to know Steve.” Xe ordered. “Or I will ensure it’s him all the kids go to first for brotherly help and advice.”

With that the demon left and Jonathan froze, wanting to ask who Steve’s kids were despite already knowing. Xe could estrange Will to him if he didn’t listen and that terrified him more than any attack or threat of physical harm could.

/\/\

Nancy had watched the door since the demon took Jonathan through it and was already standing when xe walked straight past her. “Aren’t you going to drag me off too?”

She’d thought over what Steve had said more due to El’s worries and had reasoned xir mentioned protectiveness would mean xe had judgement for her too.

Xe looked at her like she was an irritating bug. “No. You’ve already realised how little you know of Steve and already seen how easily Michael can estrange or replace you. There’s nothing to say that wouldn’t waste breath.”

The dismissal almost hurt more than whatever she’d expected. It only made her feel smaller when xe went to kneel at Erica’s side, “Young Miss, you made a deal with my human we need to discuss.”

/\/\

Erica didn’t fear this demon. Xe might own Steve and use pronouns she’d never heard of but she had xir number: If xe expected them to believe Steve was just xir property xe shouldn’t have gathered everyone for him.

“So are you looking to renegotiate for Steve or tell me to let it go?” She asked, following xim in the direction Will and Eddie had gone exploring in.

Xe looked over xir shoulder at her, amused as xe reached into a cabinet of the kitchen they’d entered, “Neither. I’m giving you your due.”

“A bowl and a spoon?” She eyed the items sceptically. “We have plenty of those at home.”

“But can you state an ice cream flavour and have it appear in those?” There was a challenge in xir eyes that she met easily, deciding what to test the bowl with.

“One scoop lemon dream, 2 scoops chocolate brownie, topped with caramel sauce.” She glanced down after saying to see the ice cream she’d requested there. “This is staying with Steve for now. I don’t need my parents getting suspicious of it, but why?”

Xe watched her, assessing but not judgemental. “Steve misunderstood something I said. This is how I’ll help my boy for now.”

She narrowed her eyes for a moment, tempted to wait it out and try for more information but shrugged it off, realising that she shouldn’t push a demon too much. “Okay then. Are we safe now?”

Xe only said yes before xe was gone back towards the room everyone else was in.

/\/\

While xe had been with Erica, Nancy had vanished from the visitors room. Xe was certain she was trying to find Jonathan, and xe knew that some of the kids had gone into a neighbouring room when xe arrived to discuss freeing xir boy; a sweet sentiment.

The teens and kids remaining looked uncomfortable so xe offered, “If you want to explore, go ahead, kids. Steve will find you when you get lost.” Getting lost was assured for most of them and xe wasn’t going to lie about it.

The powerful girl hesitated, looking from xim to the adults. “He’s learning. Be nice.” She cautioned but corralled the other kids with her, claiming Jonathan would be nearby when the final older teen tried to remain.

“Smart kid, knows which battles to pick and yours is already lost.” Xe commented, turning to the emancipated man who’d jumped up. “Although your latest months have been punishment enough for that.”

“What’s lost?” Hopper demanded, glaring and moving closer. Xe found it daring but stupid, as if simply sending the kids to explore had been a threat xe needed attacking over.

Xe smiled coldly, the temperature of the room matching xir expression. “Any chance you or her can claim to care for my boy.”

“We do!” Joyce protested. “He’s a good-”

“Shield.” Xe interrupted. “That’s what you use him as. A body shield for the kids you leave in danger.”

Both humans bolstered and Hopper snapped, “That is not how we see him. He’s brilliant.”

“It is pretty much how he gets treated.” Murray said nonchalantly, still sitting and looking around at the exits to the room. “I mean, Joyce’s eldest and his girlfriend have already had their talking to, sorry for my part in that, I guess, but we’re the grown ups here. No kid should be left to protect others but that’s exactly what we’ve done twice and unknowingly a third time I’m gathering.”

Xe laughed. “This man, he argued against kids being involved at all the one time he was active in the fighting. Makes him the best parent of the lot of you after my boy. Steve accepts that they’re involved and will not stay out of it through any restriction less air tight than literally spiriting them away to a safe house they can’t leave.”

“My kids are my world.” Joyce protested.

“Who you abandoned with lies instead of an explanation when you decided to try saving him.” Xe countered, gaze darkening. “And who weren’t willing to share the bullying they’ve gone through or the fact one of them was apprehended for an assault before you left that she’s since been arrested for. The entire mess I’ve cleared up is the only reason she’s not in a cell still. Good parents don’t forget to look after their kids because of a ransom note.”

Neither Hopper or Joyce knew how to respond to that and even Murray was shifting uncomfortably

“I am involved and I will do what you failed to do.” Xe stated. “El believes you are learning but you had better learn quickly, because currently I will support my boy adopting any of those kids he thinks needs a safer or better home and support system. He’s proved himself in doing that already. You have not.”

/\/\

The demon was still there. Dustin had checked and kept listening on the conversation through the archway. Xe had been harsh on Hopper and Joyce from the bits he’d been able to make out clearly enough, but hadn’t left.

Actually Hopper and Joyce had been the ones to leave, storming out through the room Dustin had pulled Mike and Lucas through to and further into the house. Given how many people had gone through the 3 doors into these rooms, Dustin was beginning to suspect it shifted around them.

Either way, it gave them the chance to make their case. Murray wouldn’t stop them and whoever the new man was didn’t seem to understand English so couldn’t.

The demon looked amused as he pulled his friends through, leaning back in a chair, showing xir control of the situation better than any executive ever could. “You have a question?” Xe drawled meeting each of their eyes.

“We want Steve.” Dustin began but fell silent at xir dismissive laugh.

Xe waved a hand to one exit of the room, “He’s through there. I’m not keeping him trapped here. Once I know that area is completely gone, you’re all going back to Hawkins, my boy included.”

He stuttered for a moment, but hearing Mike’s argumentative noise tried again, “You can’t own people! We want Steve.”

“And you can?” Xe stood, looming over him for a moment, “That’s what you’re asking for, ownership transfer and frankly humans treat people they claim to own worse than any demon has treated anyone they’ve owned.”

“As if we believe that!” Mike snapped, coming to stand beside Dustin and cutting off any attempt to focus on what they’d give to have Steve. “You’re a demon. You lie.”

The demon scoffed now, gesturing vaguely around the exits to the two rooms, “Look at your girlfriend and best friend. Steve is my boy. That’s not changing.”

Both boys huffed, glancing back to Lucas who remained slightly behind them silently. Dustin only took a moment to think over the demon’s words before arguing, “He shouldn’t be owned by anyone. Let him go.” He was proud for a moment, thinking that changing the phrasing would explain what they wanted better.

“No. He won’t see it as giving him ownership of himself. He’ll see it as ownership transferral and you brats already push his boundaries and take advantage of everything he does for you. I will keep my boy and ensure he knows refusing you is okay, encouraged even when he needs a break.” Xe explained calmly now, but firm.

“We do not-” Mike began to argue.

Xe stepped to lean close to him, “Wheeler, you treat him the worst of your friends. Don’t test a demon of the treatment of their human. It won’t end well for you.” Xe stated quietly, straightening after. “Now, this attempt of yours has been sweet. Go explore now.”

Dustin’s shoulders drooped as he turned to try and plan some more arguments, but Lucas stepped forwards now. “Nobody should be a slave.”

“Entirely agree.” Xe smiled at him, “But is Steve a slave? Would you have thought that before learning of me?”

Lucas shook his head slowly, but still watched xim with narrowed eyes. “No, he seems to think so though.”

Xe was grinning now, turning to sit back down and nodding. “My boy has many thoughts of me and my ownership but they’re complex. Nothing as simple as slavery implies though. Your sister is more astute.”

“I’ll start paying closer attention then.” He confirmed, turning and tugging Mike with them away from the demon.

Dustin just heard a satisfied “Good” as they went to sit back in their plotting room.

/\/\

Steve didn’t know whether to be concerned or amused when he led Robin back to the room they’d been brought to originally only to find everyone except Murray, the Russian and the demon gone. “So we’re not going back to Hawkins soon then?”

“Give it a day or two. Removing offshoots is difficult, even more so with this much mortal influence in the creation of it.” Xe replied, “But I think it’s time you tell me just what those quips when I arrived meant.”

That was an order. It resonated in Steve and he tightened his grip on Robin’s hand at the unfamiliar sensation. “You mean the times I’ve fought over the last four years?”

“Yes.” Xir eyes narrowed, scanning over his form. “As well as why no-one has checked your injuries since I brought you here. That’s only healing because of the safehouse.”

“They had questions and I didn’t feel like combining an interrogation with getting first aid.” He replied, tugging Robin with him to sit down. “Let’s start with the Russians so I can explain why.”

Murray looked over at that, “Starcourt, right? Never got told why the kid could give directions. Can I listen in?”

“Sure.” Agreeing was easy, but even with Robin there beside him Steve didn’t know how to start.

The demon didn’t let him hesitate for long. “Do you have specific names for the people who hurt you in this Starcourt?”

“No, just Russians. If names were said between them it was after I was too concussed to remember them or said in Russian.” He answered, sighing. “I kept their attention, kept yelling before that, wasn’t going to let Robin get hurt if I could do anything to stop it. She might-” He drifted off, meeting Robin’s concerned gaze and knowing she didn’t know any names either.

She let out a small noise, squeezing his hand. “They had a base under the mall, trying to get through to the Upside Down, where you found us,” She paused, gesturing to xim. “Dustin intercepted their radio message so we investigated, managed to get in, even got Erica and Dustin out but we got captured. Steve tortured. I never knew why I wasn’t also. Thought they’d killed him when I was dragged into the same room as him after hours.”

Xe looked between them, reaching over to rest a claw softly on Steve’s knee. “How long did they have you for?”

The pair shared a glance, saying guesses at each other until Murray cleared his throat to get their attention. “Too long and let’s leave it there instead of guessing.”

“That wasn’t all they did.” The words, condemning missing information, made Steve’s shoulders slump in, almost curling protectively into Robin.

“Once we were together they left us alone for a bit, tied back to back. Long enough I woke up and Robin tried planning a beginning of an escape. Then they drugged us and were going to torture us again, removing finger nails or something. Said we were hurt but the doctor would help us when that was starting. Dustin and Erica came back then, used some overpowered taser rod thing to attack the doctor when the others had left. I think it killed him but Dustin can’t know that. He can’t have the trauma of knowing he might’ve killed someone when he was just trying to save me, save Robin.” Steve finished, words growing quieter as he ended that story.

Robin rested her head on top of his, arms coming around him too. “From there it was getting out, hiding in a movie, hiding again when we saw Russian guards checking the people leaving to try and find us, the other kids arriving in time for El to save us from those guards, adults coming in, crashing the car into Billy’s to save the kids, fighting the mindflayer, same old chaos everyone else could tell you about.”

The claw on his knee dug in for a moment, not enough to hurt, but enough he knew how tense xe was before xe shot up and stormed from the room. “Wait, I’ll do your first aid now. You two comfort each other we can talk about the other things you’ve mentioned later.”

It was an easy instruction for Steve to hear, already wrapped in Robin, but xir departure was paused by Murray. “Dmitri says he might know some of the names of people involved, or know where the records for that infiltration would be.”

“Write them down and I’ll review them later. My boy needs looking after first.” Xe grunted still leaving the room.

/\/\

It didn’t make sense to Robin.

Steve spoke of being owned and worrying over it but still talked back and seemed relaxed by the demon’s presence and the demon? Xe wasn’t parenting her friend but xe were close to it.

Xe was gentle with Steve, letting him hide and warning him of any actions xe did. When xe finished checking one side for injuries, Robin thought xe would just move him, and went to speak but instead xir grounded Steve with soft words and a hand heavy on his knee, waiting until he looked up to request, not order, the position change.

She couldn’t help wondering more and more why Steve worried in the way he’d just confided to her. This didn’t seem like an owner treating xir possession. If anything she thought xe was acting a little like a cat owner.

“Well I can see why Nancy asked me to set you two up.” Murray commented, watching them swap places around Steve. “Don’t think she’s right, though.”

Steve snorted and Robin pulled a face at him, “No thanks. We’re platonic and happy that way.”

“Soulmates actually. It’s almost as strong as mine over his soul.” The Demon remarked, glancing up before nudging Steve’s arm to reach a wound more easily.

“Platonic.” Steve used moving his arm as a chance to swat at xim.

Xe chuckled, catching his wrist and gently guiding it to Robin’s shoulder. “Didn’t argue with that. You two took never leaving each other more seriously than most marriages though. Was that because of the story you just shared, or something else?”

She glanced sharply at xim, ready to scold for asking questions when they’d all agreed to leave it while Steve’s injuries were treated, but xe was looking at her, same as Steve was.

“Yes.” She replied bluntly, set on not going into more detail until Steve was fully bandaged up.

“I’m glad my boy had you there then.” Xe stated, nodding genially.

/\/\

“This house is moving around us.” Will observed.

They’d turned back from their exploration a while ago, but neither he or Eddie could figure out how to return to the original rooms. Eddie laughed at the statement. “I’m sure we’ll be found if something’s going on, right now I’m just wondering how we could use this in a campaign. Give them an unmapped place, maybe offer the players the option to draw a map as they go and see how long it takes them to realise the rooms are changing.”

“Then it would be a case of how to provide them an escape.” Will mused. “Getting in would be easy, and finding conflicts or challenges in different rooms fun, hell if we worked together as joint DM’s we could swap for each room and pull an enemy or type of room out of the hat each time but there’d need to be a reason.”

“Or an ally outside of the area that could bring them back out of it if signalled.” Eddie suggested. “Maybe someone wanting a specific treasure.”

Will huffed a little, “As long as it isn’t a rescue the village mission. Never managed to make them focus on campaigns like that.”

“Hey Will, Eddie, You want to find my old room with me?” Steve appeared in the door they’d been approaching, tugging Robin along behind him.

“We were actually just-” Will began to say but paused when Eddie held his hand up.

Looking over the paid, Eddie was sure Steve was avoiding some emotional moment while Robin thought whatever had happened was incredibly awkward. “Sure Harrington, if you know the way cause this safehouse says we don’t.”

“His demon decides who finds each other. Xe isn’t going to let Steve get lost.” Robin chimed up, nudging Steve teasingly, “Just everyone else.”

“Useful. Also his demon? The ownership thing goes both ways?” The remark was laughed after, Will snickering a little too.

Steve just rolled his eyes. “No. But apparently just talking about someone using pronouns is too boring for Robin. Xe hasn’t told me xir name so I doubt anyone else is going to learn it. What’ve you two been up to?”

“Exploring and getting lost trying to get back to you all.” Will said, gesturing around, “Then figuring out how we can make this part of a campaign.”

“Great, another time getting put into your game.” Steve sarcastically cheered. “So you pair decided to be friends then?”

Will shook his head then, “Nope, I just decided not to blame Eddie for Mike’s lies or Dustin’s hero worship. Still trying to figure out why Lucas barely mentioned him though.”

“Did you blame me when Dustin and me started hanging out?” Steve blinked, wondering how often the kids had stayed in touch since that definitely suggested the closest friends of the group had shifted while the Byers were in California.

“Nope. You didn’t separate him from us. Mike’s the one who claimed to have a grudge over that, but we all think he’s just looking for reasons to be annoyed at you.” The answer was easily given, but with an expression that said an insult was either disguised in it or a word away.

All the older teens laughed anyway, before Steve narrowed his eyes on Eddie, “This is why you need to let the kids enjoy their own hobbies. Lucas not mentioning you to Will says just as much as your reaction to the Championship Game did. Sort that out.”

“Get me to Lucas and I’ll start the apologies now.” Eddie agreed, hand on his heart and exaggerating his sincerity by kneeling. “But I’d already pledged to welcome Sir Will the Wise into Hellfire from my sheepies reports of his skill. Mayhap even declaring him heir to the DM title, although I think Jeff will be annoyed to graduate with me and miss that chance.”

Robin huffs at him, gesturing in the direction Steve had started leading them, “Then let Jeff have a go while you still lead the club. Come on, I need to know if Steve’s room is as bad here as it is in that house of his.”

“What’s wrong with my room at home?” Steve protested. “It’s clean and spacious.”

“Devoid of personality and a plaid overload.” She countered, “Tell me, was that your choice, or xir choice?”

He pouted at her, moving to sit down as they entered a living room. “Not letting you see my room now. I like the pattern. I can graph things on it and they always vanish before I’m next in there.”

“Not sure what’s worse, that you draw on your walls, or that you want guide lines to help you draw on them. Did xe start that when you were a kid?” Robin retorted.

“To make graphs a bigger size, if you must know.” Steve snarked back.

/\/\

Will hadn’t expected this when he decided to introduce himself to Eddie. He’d meant to make a sarcastic comment about the other having magic to get Mike playing DnD again and explore on his own, but the other had insisted on knowing him.

Steve was on a rant about struggling with maths but learning as much as he could of geometry after a teacher explained how it impacts basketball. Honestly it bewildered Will a little to hear the generally accepted dumbest of the party going off about angles and throw heights and just how having plaid walls helped him understand it all. A glance at Eddie and Robin suggested they were having similar thoughts before Will had to exclaim, “You can do all this but refuse to play DnD because adding a small amount to the roll of a die is too difficult?”

“Nah, I’m just bitching at Dustin when I say that. He knows I’ve played when Erica needed cheering up.” He waved the words away, “Besides, He, Mike and Lucas all got into Hellfire and aside from the entire club having great reasons to hate ‘King Steve’, I’m not giving up work shifts or dates to join a high school club.”

“I didn’t hate you.” Eddie mumbles, getting the group looking at him curiously. It was the quietest that Will had heard him.

He scoffed, “Jonathan hated him for a while and I know he wasn’t really on Steve or Tommy’s radar before I went missing. Rumour has it you’re usually making yourself the target of bullies so who did you actually hate?”

“Billy.” Simple word, but Eddie laughed a little when Steve waved a hand to tell him to continue. “Steve didn’t pay attention. He was popular because he was good as sports and everyone wanted to figure out what actually went on in his head. Tommy was a jerk and a bully, but the King? He barely looked at us all in judgement. It did my head in but wasn’t enough to be hated for, especially when Billy joined the school just wanting to fight anyone. The amount of kids that learnt they could be great at track because that boy terrified them in his first months at Hawkins High could’ve tripled the size of the club.”

“Is that why Max says she only tolerates you?” Will asked. El had mentioned it after one of the few calls they’d managed to get since the move and he’d assumed it was something to do with Lucas earlier.

Eddie fell back, hand to his chest, “The insult so harshly given. I thought we were sisters in arms, bound by the good fight, and here I am betrayed?”

“No, it’s cause of Lucas being pushed out a little from dragons club for playing Basketball, don’t tell him, only a few poorly timed insults about Billy were heard and she’s heard them from most of the party now unfortunately. The tolerating is because Eddie and Wayne help out in the trailer sometimes, have done since they moved in.” Steve explained, swatting at him.

“Steve. I forgot to mention, tell your kids to be more careful when talking to demons.” The demon was suddenly in the room with them, and Will had to push himself further onto the couch to avoid falling off when he startled. “Three of them literally just tried to demand you off me.”

Steve stared at xim for a moment, blinking and looking over to Robin, “Mike got talked into that?”

“Emotionally he was only slightly less fervent in the appeal than Dustin. Lucas at least was somewhat cautious over it.” Xe replied.

“You told them no, right? Those shitheads are not getting into some mess with you in my place.” Will blinked at the confrontational tone in Steve’s voice. When they’d been talking about how he’s owned earlier Steve had seemed resigned, almost fearful of what he could be made to do on the demon’s will but now he was ready to fight xim.

Xe laughed, shaking xir head, “Of course I rejected the idea. Humans do not treat each other correctly if ownership is mentioned and I will not have you subjected to that no matter how good their original intentions.”

/\/\

Steve hesitated, turned to the door having declared he’d get the other kids together to sort out dinner and bedrooms. It felt wrong to walk away from his owner and friends, especially after hearing what some of his kids had tried.

“Perhaps we should talk first.” Xe offered, getting a warning glare from Robin as xe moved to follow him. “You’re more anxious than normal.”

He nodded, “And you’re acting oddly.” With that he led them into the next room, not worrying over his friends listening in as xe wouldn’t allow that.

“I’m looking after you as you’re allowing, the same as I always have.” Xe stated, sitting on the floor as Steve curled into a corner of the sofa there.

He shook his head at the words. “That’s not – Don’t lie. You’re my owner. I do what you want, not this, the reverse.”

“Yes, I do own you, but what does that mean to me?” Xe asked and he folded, arms trying to hug and protect him from the question.

“I can’t know your thoughts.” He mumbled, sure that even if he’d argued and bitched at the demon before this was a dangerous time to do so.

Xe still pushed xir question, “What do you think it means to me?”

There was the feeling of an order again and Steve hated realising it hadn’t been directed at him before. “I don’t know!” He repeated, springing up. “I thought you wanted someone popular, to get deals from my friends or something, but you didn’t care about that. I thought it might be to show off, like Tommy’s parents did over expensive things, but you never do that. I’m not a slave cause you never make me do anything and it’s not company cause I barely see you for months at a time. You own me and want nothing somehow. Everyone wants something and they say demons trick and are evil but you just don’t care.” The words felt like they exploded out of him and Steve grabbed a cushion as he fell back onto the sofa to hide.

“Demons aren’t humans.” Xe replied, moving to sit next to him, resting a paw on his back. “These are all very human views of ownership. Do you want me to tell you how I view owning anything?”

A sniffle and small nod was all the response he could give. It felt odd but natural to fear his owner a little after the day he’d had and the years where his religion classes and history lessons all taught him how dangerous it could be to be owned.

“I’d describe it as being the emergency contact.” Xe began. “At least if I’m putting it in human concepts. I own you because someone else values other things over a precious life so I need to take what was a flicker and let it grow. If that’s into a flame or a forest fire that transforms the world isn’t my choice. I’m just here to enable it to happen.”

Steve watched xim warily. “You said values. My genetic donors still don’t care, do they?”

“No and I could see this when I accepted the deal.” Xe agreed. “It used to be that demons would accept deals like yours to save families. That’s where the myths came from of magical beings taking first born children in deals and how evil demons are. Some people made the opposite deals, asking for children and putting them through horrible lives and still pay for it now in torture and pain from the demons they hurt the children of. We can see intentions but they can be hidden and we can’t take the living out of the human world. For you I tried another way.”

“Have any parents wanted the sold children back?” He asked.

“Sometimes, and I do, just like most demons, check in, have the chance to amend deals if that’s the case. Usually it’s for visitation rather than parents having their kids back.” Xe shifted, form adjusting to be more jelly. “Yours never have. They’re vain and barely remember Hawkins or the pregnancy. I know they’d intended to offer you to the lab if no demon appeared for them.”

Steve didn’t reply for a moment, letting everything xe shared settle into his brain as his eyes flickered over the room. “Robin’s my emergency contact.” He eventually said, “The hospital said your information was out of date and I didn’t know what to put instead.”

“Her claim on your soul is nearly as strong as mine.” Xir voice stayed calm, trying to soothe him. “But I will add details to be a secondary emergency contact again.”

/\/\

Recognising his safehouse ceiling made Steve breathe easier after a week jerking awake, wondering if Vecna had taken anyone else. The night before he’d insisted on all the rooms for Robin, Eddie and the kids to be on the same hallway as his, getting the demon to promise it would stay that way until he woke at a minimum.

Nancy and Jonathan hadn’t re-emerged from wherever in the house they’d gone to, and Argyle had been given directions to find them when Steve levelled a glare at his owner. He would have tried keeping them near him as well, but being fairly sure xe had spoken to them about their pasts he didn’t. It might’ve ended up in an emotional confrontation when he needed to talk with his kids about how serious demonic deals were.

The adults had also been shuffled away from him, although Hopper did manage to stay long enough to call a wellbeing check in over at him. Steve had found it odd, but went along with it easily enough.

“Steve? Please say your room hasn’t moved.” Robin called, knocking on his door.

“It’s not. Xe did promise it wouldn’t. Come in.” He replied, comfortable lounging in bed for now.

She didn’t, just opening the door enough to lean around it, “Just me, or are all of us allowed in?”

“Might as well have all of you. Come make it a slumber party.”

/\/\

Steve noticed he was being watched during breakfast. It wasn’t a new feeling when everyone was together but the expressions on Hopper and Joyce’s faces were unsettling for how difficult Steve found them to read.

In the past they’d scrutinise him, waiting for him to mess up or something, and occasionally try to move their kids away from him, but none of that was happening now. If anything they seemed to be getting frustrated at each other the longer the meal went on. He kept glancing over while making sure everyone had their choice of breakfast and answering a few more questions along the way.

“Nope.” He got utterly distracted from trying to figure their expressions out as he saw Erica’s choice of breakfast was ice cream. “Actual food first, ice cream after 9:30.” He stated, barely surprised when the bowl emptied itself to show the current time. “Of course xe gave you this.” He sighed, meeting the glare now levelled at him. “I said at least halfway healthy breakfasts, Erica.”

She huffed, glancing around the table. “So if I had cereal on my ice cream?”

“I’d want there to be more cereal than ice cream in the bowl. How about pancakes and bacon instead?” He suggested.

For a moment she glared some more, but eventually nodded. “I suppose that’s acceptable.”

“Can I have pancakes too?” Dustin called out, too loud for being a seat away from them and getting the other kids, except El, to start agreeing.

Steve just laughed, nodding at them and turning to the adults. “Murray, do you and Dimitri want including in the pancake orders? Joyce? Hopper?”

“Oh I can do that Steve.” Joyce offered, standing as Murray translated the question and seemingly a lot more for the Russian.

“No! Mum, no need. If Steve needs a hand cooking, we’ve got this, right?” Jonathan interceded before steve could react, tapping Will’s shoulder and getting an agreement from him too.

For a moment, Steve looked between the family, grinning at the out of place reactions. “Thanks for the offer, Joyce, but you’re our guests. I’m not making you cook and am happy to do it.”

‘And we want edible pancakes.’ Will mouthed, not visible to the adults further along the table.

“Looks like the kid has this, Joyce. I’ll have pancakes if that’s okay.” Hopper said, tugging Joyce’s arm to get her to sit down again. “If this is a shifting labyrinth of rooms, where’s the food coming from?”

Steve shrugged, already pulling ingredients out of the cupboards, “Xe buys it whenever we stay here. I usually get taken with xim, but I think xe went as we slept.” He explained. He hadn’t seen the demon yet that morning but knew xe had been around while he gathered the party together.

/\/\

After everyone separating to explore or talk the day before Xe was surprised that they were staying together through the morning. Xe was less surprised to see Steve surrounded by his kids, with Eddie and Robin pulled into the group as well.

“No one trying to escape today?” Xe asked, joining the group and looking around at everyone more spread through the room.

“We’re planning how to clear Eddie’s name from the accusations.” Dustin said, barely glancing up from a notebook they were using to plan.

Xe laughed, shaking xir head, “Not needed. He spent that night teaching Steve guitar and stayed over. Since then you brats have kept him busy stopping you from trying to do the police’s job. Given that bunch of monkey’s can’t prevent an angry mob from forming, it was for the best.”

Steve groaned, holding a hand out for the guitar he knew would appear, while the rest had to scramble out of the way of other instruments appearing. “I think I’d prefer orders over this.”

“You wouldn’t and I won’t use them.” Xe reaffirmed. “They aren’t going to expect you to play to prove his alibi.”

“Wish they weren’t idiotic enough that I can’t believe that.” He grumbled, but looked at Eddie curiously. “Are you alright doing this?”

Eddie had leant back, blinking, barely even adjusting how he sat when his own guitar appeared in his lap. Slowly he picked it up, looking Steve over. “Sure Big boy. I’ll have you shredding in no time.”

/\/\

With the guitar in his lap, Steve thought about taking off, insisting on learning without an audience but decided against it. When he’d led Robin, Will and Eddie back to the group the night before Mike and Dustin had complained about being replaced again and he wasn’t going to let feelings like that grow if learning around everyone could stop it.

He was just looking from Eddie to the guitar, wondering if he should ask something to start when Mike came to sit closer to him.

“Can I learn too?” Mike demanded more than asked. “I want to play good music though.”

Eddie and Steve exchanged a glance before Eddie turned to him, “What’s with the emphasis on good music, Little Wheeler? You’re not getting far enough to play any songs today, anyway.” He leant forwards, eyes focused and promising offence would be easily taken.

“Like you play, not Steve.” He stated, matching the look. “No whining singers, either.” Max scoffed from her seat a little ways off, but didn’t say anything.

Steve huffed, “Judgemental shit, glad you weren’t the one trying to save Hawkins. How about Eddie shows us how to hold the guitar, first?”

He got a nod in return, and immediately Eddie started instructing them, barely acknowledging when another guitar, acoustic this time, appeared beside Mike for him to use. There were still other instruments around the room, but nobody moved to use them, and only claimed one if they knew how to play it, like Robin claiming hers.

/\/\

Lucas sighed after a while of everyone watching the guitar lesson, “So how do you decide which hobbies are cool and which aren’t?”

“Go with the chillest and you’re on the right track.” Argyle called, leaning back with Jonathan nodding beside him.

Max shook her head. “It’s the rebellion, the energy about it.” She countered.

Steve rolled his eyes, moving the guitar to one side as the conversation distracted him. “You shouldn’t. All hobbies are both cool and nerdy depending on how interested we are. In high school, the ones most people are interested in, or pushed to be, become cool, like basketball. In this group, a lot of you mostly the weird kids at school, DnD becomes cool. It’s just a popularity contest for activities.”

“How much of that was Robin and how much your way to delude yourself you’re still cool?” Mike sneered, getting a sharp glance.

“Some of it was things I wanted to yell at half of you shitheads when I saw nobody but me there supporting Lucas in the championship game.” He snapped back. “What happened to not splitting the party and supporting each other, huh, Mike?”

Mike blustered and so did Dustin, “We tried to reschedule! To postpone or something. Eddie wouldn’t let us.”

“And I was wrong not to. I’d spent too many years in that melting pot taking on the bullies to shield others that I did the same thing the jocks do and tried to make Lucas give up something for our club.” Eddie spoke up before more of an argument could start. “Steve’s right, we should have supported him, “He turned to Lucas now, “And I’m sorry for my part in stopping that, as well as how I’ve treated you over the laundry baskets game.”

Lucas took the offered hand then, a cautiousness in his eyes, “In full apology you need to try shooting some hoops with me when we get back.”

Eddie laughed outright, “Damn it Sinclair, making me exercise, but your condition is agreed too.”

The exchange reminded Steve of a room he’d asked for on his last visit so he slipped off, waiting in the doorway when he saw Dustin had spotted and was trying to follow.

/\/\

“So where are we going?” Dustin asked after the third room they went through.

Steve smirked over his shoulder, “Basketball court. I asked for one the last time I was here.”

“Really? Actually how can basketball be nerdy? That makes no sense. It’s for the jocks.” Dustin was excited though Steve knew he had no enthusiasm for exercise.

“Ask Will. Apparently I complain over the math of DnD too much to have tried so hard to learn geometry for basketball.” He snickered

Dustin hesitated then, “You’re not mad at me over how I reacted when we got here, right?”

The question confused Steve for a moment, before he realised that he hadn’t actually had one on one time with Dustin since they’d arrived so of course he friend would be worrying. “Not at all. I knew you’d have questions. It was just a lot for me when everyone expected me to know the most and I really don’t.”

“Okay,” He nodded, “Now teach me this basketball math you somehow do.”

They laughed together when the next door did bring them to the court.

/\/\

They’d been in the safehouse for only two days when the Demon said xe could return them to Hawkins. The days had been filled with catching up, comforting each other over new and old traumas as well as everyone trying to learn more about Steve.

Steve had found himself having in depth conversations with everyone, which he’d expected for the kids. He hadn’t expected it so much with the adults and other teens near his age and assumed that his owner was the cause or inspiration for them all trying to actually know him. The oddest of the conversations had been Murray giving him advice over how little was noticed about relationships by people both outside and inside them, but it was a nice change compared to most of the group dismissing comments about that as useless gossip.

The relief of hearing they could return to Hawkins was cut through by Hopper asking, “Do you mean all of us are going back to Hawkins?” He’d looked from the Demon, to El, the Byers and Argyle.

Xe looked at him in amusement, “Would you prefer to be returned to where I took you from?”

“No.” A deep frown etched itself across Hoppers face, “But California to officially move back with the Byers would be more reasonable.”

“I want to go home again!” El protested, “It’s too hot there!”

A cacophony of requests and protests broke out then, everyone having some view of where they’d either be needed, wanted or expected to be, until Steve clapped twice, getting everyone’s attention.

“The kids coming back to Hawkins, I’ll look after, whether that’s telling frantic parents where you’ve been or having you stay with me, I’ll sort it out. Murray is best at sorting out the press from what I hear, so I want him to come back to Hawkins too. The rest of you are old enough to sort this out quietly! Without arguing. Discuss and decide.”

“Or I will drop Steve and the youngest at home and everyone else close to where I found them.” Xe agreed, serious in tone but Steve could see xe was teasing them all.

At those words, Joyce and Hopper moved to talk in a corner while Nancy left her argument with Mike to talk with Jonathan and Argyle.

“That invite to stay include me, Sunshine?” Eddie asked, nudging Steve with his elbow.

“Not sure I was planning to let you leave if you tried.” Steve replied. “Staying in murder houses isn’t fun.”

It looked like Eddie would ask more but Nancy called him over then, “Steve! How well can you sweet talk my parents.”

“Depends, are you about to make me explain your disappearance to Cali and Mike’s appearance back in Hawkins?” He asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.

The trio gave him sheepish looks and he muttered under his breath while walking over. The stories he’d have to share would either get more complicated than a spiders web or need to basically just be reading parents into what they’d been dealing with for years.

/\/\

In the end, Murray and Dimitri joined Steve, Eddie, Robin and all the kids in going back to Hawkins, while Argyle, Jonathan, Nancy, Joyce and Hopper went to California. It made sense to ensure the California house was sorted and any issues there cleared up but Steve was now worried over how Dustin’s mum and the Sinclair’s parents were reacting since the kids had all been missing so far as they knew for days, right after murders had happened.

Erica was also thinking about that and tried to demand a lift home as soon as they were dropped back into Steve’s home.

“No. I’m calling everyone’s parents, and Eddie’s uncle to come here. One explanation for all of them.” He decided. “Get drinks, snacks, and Erica, find somewhere to stash that bowl of yours too.”

He did call the Sinclair’s first, knowing better than to argue with Erica’s glare too much.

Something in him withered when Mrs Sinclair answered the phone with “Lucas? Please say that’s you.” She sounded frantic.

“It’s Steve Harrington actually, but-” He hurried to continue hearing a sob, “Lucas and Erica are with me. I’ll explain everything if you come over. A couple of Lucas’s friends also need their parents calling so-”

“We’ll be right there!” She promised, cutting him off and hanging up, already yelling “Honey! Steve-”

The call to Claudia went similarly, but Steve was sure the last two would be odd. That was why he easily let Robin take the phone. Her call was quick and basically left her parents even more convinced they were dating than they had been. Steve shook his head when Dustin heard it and was clearly about to ask if they were together now. The Buckley’s were the only ones that belief was allowed for at Robin’s request.

Then he was being given the phone back and dialling the number Eddie had given him to put off talking to either Wheeler parent a little longer.

“Who’s this?” A gruff voice answered, “And why are you calling the factory?”

“This is Steve Harrington and I’m trying to get in touch with Mr Wayne Munson.” He put on the overly polite tone his mother used for staff in shops.

He got huffed at before hearing a yell away from the phone for Wayne. There was a thud as if the phone had been walked away from and Steve could only wait, hoping Wayne was where Eddie expected him to be.

“Hello, why was I told a Harrington is calling for me?” The question made him wince, knowing nothing good was likely said about him before.

Eddie shoved a note under his nose. “What?” Steve asked aloud before shaking his head and just reading it; “Letting you know the Garfield Mug will get repaired.”

“Eddie only just told you to say that, didn’t he?” Wayne sounded thoughtful, “Insisted on a code to say someone is safe but always forgets it.”

“Shoved the note in front of me without saying anything.” Steve grumbled. “But we’ve been helping him since, well since Spring break started. He’s gonna stay with me for a bit but I’ve got to explain everything to a few others soon if you want to come see him and learn what’s been going on.”

Wayne let out a noise, enough to know he’d been heard, and, Steve guessed, thought for a moment, “He’s got info about Eddie beyond the pigs backtracking. I’m taking off.” Wayne called, the volume of it startling Steve as the phone clearly wasn’t moved when he yelled. “You’re in the fancy district. Which car should I look for?”

“BMW.” Steve replied, amused that that was how Wayne planned to find his home.

“I’ll be there soon.”

Steve took a deep breath as he hung up, closing his eyes for a moment only to meet Mike’s expectant glare when he reopened them.

“Are you going to call my parents or not?”

He narrowed his eyes, “I could just make you call them, see how well you explain anything to Karen.”

“Like that’d be hard.” Mike huffed, getting Steve to turn back to the phone with a roll of his eyes.

Half dreading the call, Steve dialled and soon had the call answered, “Hello Wheeler household. This is Karen.”

“Hi Karen, how are you?” He began, trying to delay explaining the mess, given neither Wheeler kid wanted their family to know what was going on.

“Steve, I’m wondering where Nancy is. I know she was dating Jonathan Byers the last I was told but have you gotten back together and stolen her away?” Karen asked, half teasing as she clearly tried to bury her concern.

Steve laughed a little, “No, but she is with Jonathan, and that’s her location too. There’s been some drama with her relationship and Mike’s friend group so Mike has come back to Hawkins early, while Nancy has gone to talk with Jonathan something about college I think but I’m not sure.”

“She’s driven there? Are you sure she’s fine.” Karen sounded alarmed now, “And how did Mike get back?”

“One of my relatives helped them sort out travel and they’re both fine. I checked in with Nancy just over an hour ago and have Mike glaring at me currently. I’m returning him as soon as I’ve got some other stuff sorted, okay?”

Karen laughed lightly, “That’s fine, I know you’ll keep him safe, but tell him no more changing travel plans without telling me beforehand.”

“I will. See you later.” Steve hung up, leaning against the wall, amazed that had been so easy to do.

/\/\

In the end, nobodies parents were fully told about the Upside Down. Steve did start to, but the conversation got side tracked so the most Claudia and the Sinclairs knew was that the Lab had caused everything and the government was involved in them not being told. He almost felt guilty but Lucas and Dustin seemed happier with that happening.

Robin was still getting judgemental looks from Lucas after admitting she was the one to get Erica involved but let Steve shoulder the ice cream deal mostly. Both she and Steve were amused by that and definitely relaxed as those kids headed home.

Wayne had listened to the explanation but didn’t make any move to leave as the kids did, sharing a glance, Steve took Robin, El and Will with him to drop Mike off. “You tell him anything you want. Nobody has got involved here yet, so do it now.” Steve reassured, last one to leave the house deliberately so he could.

He only hoped Eddie did actually inform Wayne of it all, since they seemed really close.

/\/\

Since El had mentioned getting help to get her powers back, Steve had expected the government to get involved, even if he doubted Hawkins had really had enough happen to get that attention. What he didn’t expect was his owner to walk into Family Video halfway through his and Robin’s shift, looking every bit the business man Hawkins assumed his parents were, and plant himself behind the counter with him.

After that he wasn’t surprised to see the black cars of government officials coming in, or Doctor Owens coming into the store with someone else wearing a doctors coat beside him.

“Excuse me, people who torture children are not welcome in Hawkins.” Xe spoke before either worker could give their normal greeting.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Doctor Owens replied, “I’m just here to talk with Mr Harrington and Mrs Buckley about their absences over the last week.”

They both scoffed, “That would be Keith’s job and in his words, ‘Shutting the store for a mourning period was a great publicity move.’” Robin countered, “And Family Video has no need of Medical Doctor’s when we rent videos to people.”

“You’re not discussing anything with my son when I am here to represent and protect him.” Xe followed her words with an unmoving stare. “Now, Brennan, if you don’t wish to experience the tortures you’ve put others through yourself, you should leave Hawkins immediately. I’ve cleaned up the hell you tried bringing here and your favourite kid is dead. Henry Creel tried to steal part of hell and is paying for that forever more.”

Brennan tried to meet his glare and Steve could only assume this was El’s papa. After a moment of that he turned and left, waiting in the car as Doctor Owens was still there.

“I don’t know what your son has been telling you but-” Doctor Owens began to say, only to fall silent though his lips still moved.

Xe glanced back at Steve. “He told me nothing until I was charging through a land that definitely wasn’t Earth to save his life and that of his friends. What I’ve learned since then says you’ve been giving less than the bare minimum to everyone plagued by your failures and the governments inability to treat people humanely.”

“You want to negotiate?” Doctor Owens asked, clearly uncertain over what was happening.

The demon’s grin was like an alligator shining his teeth as xe nodded, “For everyone involved, from my boy, to the Munsons and even to the emancipated Chief soon moving back after being captured by Russians. You are going to compensate them all into wealth for the amount of trauma and pain you’ve heaped on them. Would you like the demands now, or after all of Hawkins knows what the abandoned lab used to do?”

He looked at xem in horror, never doubting the xe could manage that, then out through the doors. “Now, and I will do all I can to get them agreed to.”

“If you don’t, the world will know just how cruel America was before Russia even dreamt of it.” Xe vowed.

As the door closed behind Doctor Owens Steve and Robin started snickering, “Steve, your owner is brilliant.”

“Apparently!”

Xe smiled at them, shaking xir head, “Thank you. I’m keeping an eye on you for a while until I know this is as safe as it used to be again.” Xe informed them.

/\/\

“So, Demons! Can I ask more questions now?” Dustin had been holding a notebook even as he got into the car, watching Steve expectantly.

He shook his head, “Surprised it took you this long.” He admitted, before sharply looking over, “And if I ever hear of you trying to deal with demons even after I’ve answered whatever questions you’ve got, your ass is grass.” He pulled off, taking Dustin to the arcade where Eddie and Mike should be meeting them.

In the back of the car El and Will were sitting quietly, happy to just listen to them.

“Xe told you?” Dustin pouted for a moment before looking at his notebook, “So does xe only have that bipedal but with horns and claws form?”

“Xe changes and chooses xir form based on what’s happening and how xir feeling. No, I don’t know if all demons can do that.” Steve guessed the second question and decided to stop that possibly getting repeated a lot from the start. “I’ve not met any other demons so can’t say anything about them, just the one that owns me.”

Dustin nodded, crossing out a few questions and writing a note, presumably of that lack of knowledge. “Have you been to hell? Other than the Upside Down?”

Steve shrugged, glancing over as the road was quiet. “Again, I don’t know. Xe moved us to the safehouse so do you know where that is? But I don’t think so. Xe is pretty closed off about things that might risk me or just some information about xem.”

“Did xe know about everything else we’ve been through?” El asked, looking calm when Steve glanced in the rear-view mirror at her. He was just pulling up to the arcade now and wasn’t going to leave Max waiting for a ton more questions to get asked.

“No. Xe hasn’t shown up for the others and hadn’t realised what I’d gotten into. Apparently other humans xe owned had some bad injuries over their lives too.” He answered, “No more questions when you could be attempting to beat Max’s scores again.”

/\/\

They’d been back in Hawkins a day when they heard the roar again but Steve didn’t drop, ignoring the clear order and everything in him wanting to.

Jason and the rest of the current basketball team did stumble back however, staring in fear over his shoulder.

Lucas hadn’t faltered either, solidifying his stance and bringing his slingshot out of his pocket to aim at his teammates. “Eddie is innocent. No devil worship is done in a game. It’s done by hate-filled bastards like you, thinking you’re owed more than you’ve earnt.” He spat.

“Tell that to the demon you summoned.” Jason stuttered back, a shaking hand raising to point over their shoulders.

“Oh no, Xe’re here because you attacked me and xe’re keeping a closer watch currently.” Steve straightened from his defensive stance, rolling his eyes, even while sidestepping so the demon could pass. “It’s really dumb to attack a demon’s property, you know.”

Jason looked angrier for a moment, seeming to judge if he’d get past Steve, Lucas and the demon to Eddie again. “They already sold you! You call that innocent Sinclair?”

“My boy has been mine since the 60’s and you are already due for hell.” Xe growled out, startling Lucas as he moved past them with many limbs and spikes on xir current form. “I’ll escort you there.”

Steve couldn’t tell if it was xir words or xir lunge towards the boys that had them sprinting away, and didn’t care much, the fact he’d ignored the order weighing on him the further they went. “Sorry I didn’t drop out of the way but I wasn’t letting them past me.”

Xe huffed. “My roar doesn’t mean get down or drop. It means don’t block me.” Xe grumbled. “Go get your injuries checked.”

“Are you doing this so I can learn when something’s an order? ‘Cause I’ve got that figured out now.” Steve muttered, going to his car where the door was still open from him jumping out to help Lucas fighting the club back from Eddie.

Xe nodded, “Yes, you’ve torn yourself apart looking for them too much and I’m not getting Robin on my case again.”

“Why would Robin do that?” Lucas asked, giving Steve a chance to actually make the call on his walkie. He’d moved to help Eddie up who had dropped upon hearing the roar, though since he’d been the target Steve wasn’t sure if an injury from before he and Lucas had gotten the attention from him influenced that reaction.

“Very protective friend.” Xe answered, eyes narrowed as xe checked the area one more time. “Very protective and too ready to fight me.” As soon as Xe finished speaking Xe was gone.

Steve shook his car keys to get Eddie and Lucas’s attention from the now empty space. “Come on, Robs has the Family Video first aid kit waiting for us.”

/\/\

A month after their return had everyone back in Hawkins, even Steve’s owner hadn’t fully left yet. Most of Hawkins had accepted Eddie’s innocence now, although some of the basketball team still tried to start fights occasionally.

Steve was worried still, since he had expected the Demon to leave after dealing with the government, but xe hadn’t. “So are you just staying in Hawkins now?” He had to ask eventually.

Eddie and Wayne were in the kitchen but he’d wandered out to the pool, knowing xe would be there too. Xe knew when conversations were needed and Steve never bothered to ask how, perhaps one of the more curious or confrontational of the party had done, but that wasn’t his concern.

“No, I’m not staying for much longer.” Xe replied, but tugged him to sit beside xim.

“So what happens then? Do I just carry on with Robin as my emergency contact?” Steve had to ask. He’d learnt enough about his owner now that he doubted xir detachment; he just didn’t know how xe could remain updated with what happened around him now.

Xe looked through him for a moment. “Now you live. Carry on doing your best to look after this family you made and be happy.”

“And never seeing you unless you decide to visit?” He challenged. It had been nice letting someone else be in charge of his wellbeing even in the small ways xe did.

“That is an option, but there are others you might prefer.” Xir lap suddenly held a variety of objects, including a crystal ball, a plain notebook and a phone handset.

Steve looked over the items, brow furrowed for a moment, “Are you saying these are ways I could call you?”

“The notebook I’d need to refine and then anyone who wrote in it would be contacting me. The other two I can ensure are set up for you to contact me, the phone already is really since I am your secondary emergency contact once more.” Xe explained, handing the notebook over when Steve reached for it.

“Is that only for important stuff? Not just letting you know things happening.” He checked.

Xe shook xir head, “It’s for anything you want to tell me, but definitely if off shoots of hell are formed again.”

“Oh.” Steve blinked, stunnd that it was this easy to get a way to contact his demon. “Thank you. Um, Did I disappoint you? Doing all that stuff I thought you were telling me to?” The thought had grown since he’d heard how xe viewed this ownership situation, and if xe was talking candidly with him it seemed like a good time to ask.

“No, I understood it. This isn’t a situation humans can explain, even in their stories, so I knew there’d be some confusion as you grew up. I just didn’t think it would upset you so much otherwise I’d have spoken about it with you sooner.” Xe spoke gently, patting Steve’s shoulder. “Now you can go on living your life just getting in touch when you want to without worrying over orders it’s unlikely I’ll ever give you again.”

“Unless I’m in another life or death situation.” Steve finished wryly.

Xe laughed, “Unless that happens, yes.”

/\/\

After xe left, Steve found it easier to return to daily life than he had so far following Upside Down instances, easily accepting the Munson’s into his home while the investigation of Chrissy’s death was finished and their payouts sorted. Xe had told Steve xir demands of compensation so he would report back how much ended up being offered since that hadn’t yet been finalised.

“You really saved me, you know.” Eddie commented slouched on Steve’s sofa while Steve and Robin messed around in the kitchen supposedly sorting out dinner and drinks for their hang out. “This town would’ve killed me if it wasn’t for you and your demon.”

“Xe isn’t mine, just my owner.” Steve laughed, “And of course we were gonna help. Dustin alone would have been insufferable if we hadn’t.”

Robin laughed too, “Yeah, that boy can get Steve to do anything he wants, I swear. Have you seen their secret handshake yet?”

Steve rolled his eyes, “Dustin put a stop to that before he started high school, apparently it’s too childish to keep doing.”

“Damn, sounds like it would’ve been revolutionary to see. King Steve doing a dorky handshake.” Eddie teased.

“As if the pats and slaps the basketball team does are any different. Dustin’s was just more fun.” Steve huffed, “Are we gossiping over how we got each other through that shit or going to watch a film?”

Eddie grinned at him, shaking his head, “I’ve got stuff to say first.”

Steve gestured around the room, “Then the floor is yours, what do you want to share.”

“My gratitude, yes to Robin as well, but mostly to you. You might not have been the most willing to help from the start but you did anyway, and you did everything you could to keep me feeling okay. You’re worlds better than I ever imagined you could be and then when you could have just dropped me off home you not only let me stay but got Wayne to as well. And it’s wonderful.” Eddie had stood and faced Steve as if he was actually making a speech or a toast at a wedding. “If I was better at cooking I’d offer to make you dinner every night, but instead, let me take you out to dinner soon, Enzo’s maybe, to thank you for all you’ve done.”

Robin gasped at the offer, hands shooting up to cover her mouth and Steve raised an eyebrow at that, before running Eddie’s words through his mind again.

“I’ll agree either way, but is that just a thank you dinner or is it a date, Munson?” He asked, watching Eddie’s expression carefully.

He flushed a little, hand going to tug his hair in front of his face, “So it’s okay for it to be a date? Really?”

“I’m saying now, I’ve never dated a guy before, but you are hot.” Steve cautioned, knowing from some of Robin’s rants that it was better to be honest about that, “So long as you don’t mind that I’ve got that shit to figure out still, then we can try a date.”

Eddie didn’t react for a moment, but Robin did, launching herself at him for a hug. “I’m not alone, Steve! Dingus! I’m not alone here!” She exclaimed excitedly.

“Guess not,” He laughed, “And I still say you should do exactly what Eddie just did and ask Vickie out!”

“You said yes!” Eddie blinked back into the room, latching onto Steve’s other side. “I get to date you! I’ll make it a great evening!”

With that promise made, Steve grinned but nodded at their seats. “You do that, we can sort out when tomorrow, now, I need to get food out of the oven and you can get the movie put in.”

/\/\

Three months after Steve’s Demon had closed the Upside Down and got the government to given them far more than they’d need to live comfortably for the rest of their lives, the Party decided to have a celebratory dinner. Steve offered to host it since even with the payouts he had the biggest home still.

Hopper and Joyce had insisted on being the actual hosts despite the location and with Jonathan and Murray’s help managed to get the dinner made and dining room set for everyone to be able to fit in.

Before they began to eat, Hopper stood, “Yep, this is fake formal but seriously, lets toast to Steve’s Demon. Xe has better morals than too much of humanity and all of the government. Here’s to xem!”

Everyone laughed as they reached up and down the table trying to clink all their glasses together. “To Steve’s demon.”

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #dustin henderson #demon owned steve harrington #demon deals #the party stranger things #erica sinclair

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