#truly though I've been wishing for death for most of the day

[dyingswanpavlova]

"Your girl" - Part 14 | The Salesman x Reader

Summary: Life with him is really good...Right?

Warnings: dead dove do not eat, kidnapping, mentions of sexual abuse and other traumatic events in the past, numbness, helplessness, violence, threatening, mentions of blood, mentions of murder/gore/death, body issues, trauma talk, stockholm syndrome, forced relationship, unhealthy relationship, depression, manipulation and low self-esteem, mentions of sexual activities, loss of identity, threatening, penetration, breeding kink, degradation kink, cockwarming, edging, overstimulation, sleepy sex (both consent!), not beta-read, if I've missed any warnings or tags please tell me! mdni 18+!

"Your girl" - The Salesman x Reader Masterlist

Life was good.

Uncharacteristically so even.

There was still a tiny part of you that was tense around him and that was for various reasons. One of them being, that you never really knew when his evil persona would take over. So far you could tell, albeit roughly, but there were always moments, when he would simply snap and there was nothing you could do about it. Was that a problem? Probably, but not to you, anyways. Why? Because life was good.

The little trip to the balcony hadn’t been a one-time thing. In fact, it happened more and more regular. Not only to get naughty, because he was a freak, who liked the thought of possibly getting caught – but also because, as he said, you’ve been such a good girl for me all this time. And I told you, sweet girl, I don’t want to keep you locked away. I just needed to make sure you’re mine.

That you were. Quite obviously.

That one time when you told him you wanted to leave, it had been exactly that. One time. The reasons for that outburst were in the past so far. There were still moments when you feared punishment and rightfully so. But to your great relief, you were both learning.

You were learning not to expect a painful blow, whenever you went out of your way to speak your mind (which wasn’t quite as often as you wished, but you were getting there). Slow and steady.

And he? He was learning, too. He was learning to leave you be and control the wild beast that lived inside his mind and soul. The darkness that surrounded him became lighter every day or so it felt to you. Of course he wouldn’t let you downright insult him, without at least some punishment in sight. But he was working on himself and his behavior. He didn’t hurt you without a reason. He didn’t hurt severely. And on some lucky days, he didn’t hurt you at all.

Slow and steady.

What was probably the greatest part of it all, it felt like a relationship. A real one. Two people who shared a life together, doing all kinds of things, sharing an intimate relation, but most importantly, you talked.

You talked a lot.

And now it wasn’t only through games and the fear of punishment. It wasn’t even only you who was forced to talk. No, he talked as well. The important things were still a big issue, obviously. He didn’t have a name, an identity or a past, when it came to you. But you had the great, undying hope that one day he would trust you. Trust you enough to let you know who he was and where he came from, what made him who he was and what was truly important to him.

Sometimes you’d get those tiny, little flickers that shone through his façade, his tight mask. The moments when the look in his eyes became faraway and distant, when his voice became softer and the tension in his body gave way to something quiet. Maybe one day that would be the version of him that you would get. Entirely and without question. Without the filter to rule out his emotions for him.

Until then, though, you would make do with what you had. And what did you have?

His favorite movie? The good, the bad and the ugly. What a question. Actually, anything with Clint Eastwood in it. Haven’t you seen the man?

His favorite musician? Ennio Morricone. Did you watch that scene in Inglourious Basterds, right before the Bear Jew comes out of the cave? That scene �� and that composition – it’s reason enough to watch the movie. Aside from all the Nazis getting burned, of course.

His favorite food? Tteokbokki. But they have to be spicy enough to make your tongue fall off.

You smirked to yourself as you stood by the stove, slowly stirring the rice cakes in a black pan. He was talking movies all the time and that was a language you understood well.

In a minute you needed to add the spices and that disturbingly hot, red sauce. It was something you had cooked before, back in England. You had been scrolling aimlessly through one of your countless apps, which you normally used so you wouldn’t have to think and there you found some recipe that had been viral for a while. A Korean recipe with rice cakes in a sauce, topped with sesame and green onions. It had been quite the ordeal to find rice cakes back where you lived, but when you finally did and you tasted the recipe you had so carefully and lovingly prepared, you found it was worth it. It had actually been the first step into the life you were now living.

South-Korea, you had thought. Why not?

You poured the sauce in and wanted to try it, but decided against it in the end. You’d spend the next hour trying to soothe the pain in your mouth with bread and milk. With a soft sigh, you turned off the stove and served the food on two plates. You set the table with the gentle precision of a lovely homemaker. Even the napkins were folded prettily, giving the whole scene the last touch it needed to come off as…thoughtful.

Of course you never mentioned to him that you knew the dish. He had mostly likely thought it was just another Korean word he threw around and you’d forget immediately. And you had made no attempts to make him believe differently. So, when you began to cook this, it was with the intention to surprise him. A short glance at the clock showed you that it was almost ten in the evening, so he would most likely be home soon.

Home. What an odd thought.

You sighed again and washed your hands. A lecture you had to learn only once before in your life – spicy food didn’t quite match well with eyes.

You glanced around the kitchen once more, half-expecting him to be late. After he luckily gave you the books back, you asked yourself if you should go and read something, until he arrived, but that question answered itself, the moment you heard the door creak open. A nervous smile grew on your face and you nibbled on your lower lip. For some reason, a part of you was still afraid. A tiny bit, at least. It was like you expected him to punish you for good things. For being affectionate or caring.

But the moment you saw his head perk through the door, you knew you wouldn’t get punished tonight. Well, at least not, until you gave him a reason to…or asked him to.

His face lit up in surprised delight, his brows furrowed in a mixture of disbelief and confusion.

“Hello?” He murmured as he stepped closer and set the briefcase down on a chair. Your smile grew somewhat and you folded your hands behind your back.

“Hey.” You took a step closer and tilted your head to the side. “I made dinner.”

“I can see that.” He glanced at the lovely decorated kitchen table. You had put in quite some effort, looking through all the drawers until you found a tablecloth, lit some candles and then there was his favorite food. He looked from the table to you and smiled.

“And what exactly did I do to deserve this?” He raised a brow in suspicion. You returned the smile.

“I just felt like it.”

“So, you know Tteokbokki!”

You laughed quietly. “We’ll see about that. You should try it first.”

He hummed softly and stepped closer. You expected him to head for the sink and wash his hands, which he most definitely would, but before that, he stepped close to you, so close that you felt the warmth radiating off him and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. Then your cheek and then your lips.

You closed eyes and leaned into the kiss, immediately aching for more. But a second later he pulled his head back and smiled again.

“I just know I’m going to love it. Thank you.”

You felt yourself blush and so you averted your gaze. He finished up getting ready and then pulled out your chair for you, like the gentleman he was, or well, he could be.

The both of you settled down and you kept a keen eye on him to check his reaction, the second he brought the fork to his lips. You half-expected him to recoil in disgust, but instead, his brows furrowed and he hummed in approval.

“This is perfect.”

You scoffed in amusement. “Stop bullshitting me.”

“No, I mean it. It’s perfectly spicy, just the way I like it. And it’s homemade. Do you know how much that me-“ He stopped himself and cleared his throat. The filter. “I really love it. Thank you.” He squeezed your hand under the table.

You smiled again and leaned back in your chair, taking a moment to simply watch him eat.

When he saw you were staring at him, he cocked a brow. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Now it’s you bullshitting me, huh?”

That made you laugh. God, how beautiful this was. Just simple, plain banter. Back and forth, like normal couples shared. You loved it.

You loved him.

When you laughed, a cocky grin grew on his face. “Mhm. I still have it in me, don’t I?”

You smirked. “Oh, shut up. For an old man.”

His grin widened and he picked up the fork, bringing it to your lips. Wordlessly, you parted them and took the food in your mouth. It was painful, of course, but you tried to keep a strong façade. And failed.

He laughed and held out a glass with milk to you, of which you took a big, grateful sip.

“Why are you making it, if you can’t even eat it?”

“You like it.”

He hummed softly. “And you remembered.”

“It’s not that hard. I collect the few things I know about you like postage stamps.”

He snorted. “Oh, so now we collect stamps, do we?”

You grinned cheekily and gently nudged his shoulder. “Eat your abnormal spicy food and shush.”

He shot you another smirk and eyed you up and down for a moment. It left you feeling oddly comfortable.

“You’re beautiful.” He mumbled before he took another bite. Your brows shot up and you titled your head to the side. You were better now, when it came to this. Compliments and accepting them. After all, he had no reason to lie to you whatsoever, now, did he?

“Thank you. But why are you saying that?” Not as good as you thought, but better.

He brows furrowed. “And why wouldn’t I?”

You shrugged and he shot you a long, suspicious look. “I’m not taking it back.”

That made you laugh again. He sounded like petulant child and you loved him even more when he was like this. Just…easy.

Easy to love.

“Why are you laughing at me?” He joined your laughter.

You smirked and took another sip of your milk. “If you can’t tell, it’s already too late.”

Days passed, weeks even, and life was still good. Very much so.

Every now and then you would ask yourself, when will things take a dark turn again? You couldn’t help yourself. These first few weeks were stuck in your mind like a nightmare you hardly remembered and yet felt in every inch of your body. Even when you didn’t...

Your body remembered.

He had that in him. That dark, that evil. It would undoubtedly come out again at some point. That’s why you always tried to remind yourself, not to dive too deep into what you called your perfect world. At some point, you’d surely be in pain again.

Though, you had to admit, you were hardly in pain nowadays. Your mysterious man was a gentle man, when he wanted to be and that happened more and more these days. Whenever he came home, he’d make a habit of kissing you and asking you about your day. His smile came out, more and more often. On very rare occasions, when you got really lucky, you even heard him laugh. And not the mock-kind of laugh he’d have so well-rehearsed in his repertoire of masks, he had for the world to see, but the real kind. A sound so unbridled and genuine, so warm and endearing, it made something inside of you ache. Why was it so rare?

Of course he still hurt you sometimes, but that was more of a consented kind of thing. In most cases.

Whenever he decided it was time for you to cockwarm him, for example. God, you hated, when he did. Because you loved it.

You loved the feeling of having him inside you on any occasion, really. Sometimes he’d be reading the newspaper and have you on his lap, his free hand on your hip to hold you perfectly still. You always asked yourself, how on earth did he manage to read like that, without even cocking an eye brow, while you were nearly fainting in agony, because all you wanted was for him to move?

On other nights, and you were ashamed to admit how much you enjoyed it, you’d even sleep like that. You’d lay either facing away or facing him, but often clenched around him. He’d nuzzle his face in your hair and after a while he’d usually drift off like that, his breathing slowly soothing down to a soft sound. Sometimes, when he’d wake up in the middle of the night, you felt him move and grind his hips against yours, giving you the friction you so desperately desired. Sometimes it happened quickly, sometimes it took a few hours and sometimes it didn’t happen at all. But when it did and when it did take hours to get to that point, you’d normally be half-asleep and yet desperate. The second you felt him move inside you, it was as though a switch got flipped. You became needy and…

Wicked.

 For you, it didn’t matter how many times he fucked you. How many times he made you cum. When you felt him like that, you needed him. Ardently.

But in most cases you managed to be good for him, just like he asked you to. Good and perfectly still. When you did, you got rewarded. Which, in most cases, consisted of him going down on you and making you feel things with his tongue that made your toes curl and your breath stutter. He made you cum so good that you nearly forgot your own name.

At times, you did forget it. But odd enough, you didn’t really miss it. Names weren’t important. Not with him.

And then there were those other times. The times, when you got too needy, too desperate and, despite your better will, you found yourself moving against him, desperate for any kind of friction. That was when you got punished still.

Sometimes with a firm slap to get you back on track. That wasn’t enough to make you forget about your need for him though. Normally, you’d just fall back into the same pattern, given enough time. And after a while, he got more creative with his punishments. When he realized that pain was something that you were rather immune to, compared to other things, you were fucked.

Quite literally.

When you moved and disobeyed his orders not to…

He fucked you. Which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Not at all, actually.

That was until…

You came. You came every time with him, which was something you had highly doubted, before you started this thing between you. But to your surprise, you were more than relaxed with him. And so you came.

But he didn’t stop there. No, it was a punishment after all, right?

So, he kept fucking into you, like a feral animal. Even after you came and the pleasure quickly shifted into overstimulation. You got so sensitive, it was close to painful. But he kept going.

And then, oh God, you’d come again. Of course you did. He was good at what he was doing. You came again, shuddering and gasping.

And he still wouldn’t stop.

Even when your body arched into the air and you tried to get away from him, all desperate, he’d continue fucking you, until your mind was a mess and all you could do was stutter and whimper, cry even.

It was one of his favorite ways to punish you.

When he didn’t keep you on edge or withdrew your release for the time being, he made you cum until you begged him to stop, sobbing and whimpering.

Oh, the crying turned him on, you could tell. Because it normally ended with him filling you up to the brim. And then he’d go back to sleep, wouldn’t he? With his length still buried deep inside to keep warm.

Let’s just hope you learned your lesson now, darling. I’d hate to punish you again.

He had done exactly that the night before and so you found yourself lying on the sofa, feeling sore and exhausted. When he came home that night, you were still passed out on the couch, too sleepy to even open your eyes. He regarded your broken frame with a warm, yet subtle smile and set his briefcase down. He took a few slow steps closer and watched over you for a long moment, before he reached for the nearby blanket and pulled it up to your shoulders. You weren’t really fast asleep, just somewhere in-between, so you felt his knuckles gently caress your cheek. You mumbled something in response and you heard the way he smiled, before he vanished to the bathroom and you heard the way the water got turned on.

After a while you slowly blinked your eyes open and yawned. When you saw the blanket, a smile crept onto your face and you hugged the material tightly to your body. Slowly and carefully, you sat up and rubbed your eyes, before you decided to try and cook something for a change. You got better and better at it, considering how little you knew about the Korean cuisine. Yet you had to admit, it seemed healthier than anything you had ever eaten back home.

When you couldn’t think of anything, you decided to be safe and went for Bibimbap. It was a mixture of near everything and also the fastest thing you could think of. But before you even started, you went back to your room to grab a claw clip for your hair. You swiftly did it up and made your way through the hallway, when you saw that the door to his bedroom stood open. You saw his white shirt splayed out on the bed and you just knew it smelled like him. You bit your lip as you slowly tiptoed inside and picked the shirt up, only to bury your face in the material and inhale softly.

If this wasn’t home, what would ever be?

You hummed softly to yourself, before you swiftly slid off your caramel colored skirt and your black tank top, to put his button down shirt on instead. The material hugged your body like a gentle hug and you smiled to yourself as you rolled the sleeves up in the way he would. Of course the shirt looked fairly huge on you. You took a long glance at the big mirror and smirked. It looked like a dress on you, albeit a short one. You twirled around like a ballerina and took in the way your thighs were barely covered by the material. That gave you a wicked idea.

Of course your body was begging you to leave it be, especially after last night, but the devil inside your mind forced you to keep the shirt on and make your way back to the kitchen.

In the meantime, he had finished his shower and now he sat on the couch, with the newspaper in his hand. He wore a pair of grey sweatpants (the damned bastard) and a black shirt. His hair was still damp and hung loosely into his face. He looked delicious.

When he heard you approach, he looked up, ready to greet you, when he hesitated. His gaze roamed up and down your body in a way that made you bite back a smirk.

“Hello, darling.” He murmured, without ever looking up at your face.

“Why, hello.” You purred cheerfully and approached him with slow, tiptoed steps. His gaze wandered up your legs and torso, until he finally met your gaze.

“You look…”

“I thought it suits me better than you.” You teased.

His lips curved up into a slow smile. “I can’t disagree.” He took your hand, ready to pull you onto his lap. But after last night, you felt in dire need to take some action and control.

Not, that you didn’t somehow enjoy it. But still.

You briefly squeezed his hand, before you pulled yours away. You gave him a quick peck on the lips, then took a step back.

“I’ll go cook.”

His brows shot up. “I can-“

“No.”

You hid your smirk, until you had your back facing him. With quick, measured steps, you disappeared into the kitchen, all the while pretending not to hear his frustrated groan.

The next few minutes went by rather quickly. You did a great job cooking up some ingredients and even an egg, Sunny Side Up. You quickly set the table and eventually left some rice on the stove, to slowly simmer. With a soft, exaggerated sigh you made your way back to the living room.

“It’s almost done.” You murmured as you slowly approached him. When you looked at him, you deliberately missed his face and his expression became more and more dour.

“Good. I was thinking-“

“I nearly finished my book.” You interrupted him in a sweet voice, as you sat down on his lap, causing him to freeze for a moment. It only took him a second to relax, though he seemed to have forgotten that you had interrupted him and what he even intended to say in the first place.

“That’s…good.” He murmured.

“Just two more pages. I’ll finish it quickly, before dinner, okay?”

He cocked a brow and shrugged slowly. “Sure. Suit yourself.”

His shirt rode up your thighs and revealed more and more of your skin to his gaze. He didn’t even try to be secretive about it, he was straight-up ogling you. All the while you buried your nose in your book, without reading a single word. You had to save up all your energy as not to smile.

His fingertips brushed over the skin of your thigh and you did your best to keep your expression neutral. And he, he was just…

“Are you-“

“Oh God, I didn’t see that twist coming.” You closed the book and sighed. Then you shot him an innocent look and smiled. “That was a really good book.”

You leaned back against his chest and kept up your innocent façade, all the while the look in his eyes equaled that of a bear with his fish.

“You really-“

“I’d better go and get myself another one. I’m sure the rice needs a few more minutes.”

His hand ended up in the middle of the air, while you practically jumped off of his lap. He let out a soft grunt of frustration, while you slowly swayed your way back to the bookshelf. Of course your hips swayed along and obviously his gaze did the same.

You held a finger against your lips, pretending to think, while you slowly went about the rows and rows of books. And then, what a coincidence, a book in the last row caught your attention. You smiled and bent down, pretending to read.

At the same time, his patience snapped. When his shirt rode up further, exposing just a hint of your rear to him, he let out a low growl.

“That’s enough.” He hissed. You smirked, before you slowly turned and replaced the smirk with innocent surprise.

“What? What’s enough?”

“Oh, stop this.” He slammed the newspaper down on the coffee table and stood up in a swift movement. “Stop acting all innocent. You’ve been parading around here, half-naked and ready to…”

“To what?” You murmured and tilted your head to the side in feigned curiosity. He growled again and ran a hand over his chin. Only then did you see the obvious tent in his grey sweatpants. It cost you half your life not to look down there and trust your peripheral view.

“Don’t play dumb.” He murmured. “Get over here. Now.”

You licked your lips. “But the rice-“

“Now!”

That made you laugh and there went your innocent act out of the window.

“You minx! You’re doing this on purpose!”

You chuckled. “Well…”

The look on his face was near rabid. Only the foam was missing.

“I’ll forgive you this once, if you’ll be a good girl for me and get your ass over here.”

You smirked and took a step back, circling the sofa. “And if I don’t?

He hissed in response. “You don’t want to test me today.”

And for some inexplicable reason, right then and there, you weren’t scared. That tiny part of your brain that had continued to keep up the fear, albeit briefly and barely, was completely silent. And you knew he wasn’t going to hurt you, no matter what you did.

“Make me then.”

His eyes widened and he tilted his chin up. “Oh, that’s a mistake.”

You grinned. “Oh, that’s a mistake.” You mocked his voice.

With a movement so quick that it almost made you wince, he jumped over the back of the couch and stood before you, eyeing you like a predator. You let out a soft shriek and turned on your heel, running and laughing, without looking over your shoulder.

It took him only a second to put his hand on your shoulder, but it took you only a second to shrug him off and circle the coffee table.

“That all you got, old man?”

You could have sworn you saw his lip twitch, but that would have been too easy. He tried hard to keep his expression serious.

“Grew a backbone, did you?”

You raised a brow and smirked. “Oh, boo-hoo. Did I hurt you, oppa?” You hinted a mocking curtsy.

“Oh, you just wait!” He rushed to catch you from one side, but you quickly ran the other way. When he tried the other way, you went the other way, yet again. He gave a frustrated growl.

“What now, hm?” You smirked. “Giving up already?”

He gave you a long, wild look. For a moment you almost thought he was indeed giving up, but then he rushed forward and kicked the table out of the way. It rolled over and crashed against the wall loudly. Your eyes widened in surprise and you took a step back, but before you knew it, your back was already pressed against the wall and you had to tilt your head back to stare up at him.

“You caught me.” You whispered.

He clenched his jaw and reached out a hand. You were sure. You were still sure, that you were safe.

And then…

His hand slowly tangled in your hair and gently grasped the back of your neck. He leaned down so that your lips nearly met.

“I caught you.” He whispered back, before he captured your lips in a bruising kiss.

And you let the rice burn.

A few days later, you couldn’t even tell which day it was, because every day was but a collection of memories you kept replaying in your head, he was off to work.

And to no one’s great surprise, you missed him.

Every waking moment without him was empty. The emptiness was so intense, it left you nearly suffocating. All the while, all you could do was wait. Wait and eat. Wait and sleep. Wait and read.

Sometimes, you wrote. You remembered that one time you told him about your greatest dream.

To become an author one day. You didn’t even care, if anyone knew your real name, you just wanted to touch people with your words. Like the Bronte-sisters.

Ellis Bell, huh? And who would you be?

Hana, maybe. The thought made you equally as sad as it filled you with hope.

But that was about all you did. And after hours and hours, the day neared its end. Eventually it was far past eleven, so you were sure he would be late tonight. Of course you were concerned. As you always were. You had no idea what his job was, but you could tell it was dangerous.

The man in his clean suit and a briefcase full of secrets.

When it got closer to midnight and he still wasn’t back, you decided to distract yourself, by getting yourself ready. You changed into a beautiful, white negligee with a neckline made of pretty, see-through lace. You loved it. The silk made you feel like you were the most beautiful girl on earth. And you were sure, once he saw you in it, he would totally destroy it. Chew it off or tear it down, whatever worked faster.

You did your hair down (it was slowly growing back and you barely thought back to the dreadful day that he cut it) and took a last glance at your appearance in the mirror. You smiled at yourself, something you rarely did, and eventually made your way back to his bedroom to surprise him. On his bed, wearing nothing but the negligee and a pair of…

Where were the handcuffs? You frowned as you glanced around and didn’t immediately find them. You bent down to look under the bed, but still no cuffs in sight. Your frown deepened and you gave another quick onceover, before you decided that they most likely were in the wardrobe.

You opened it and knelt down, finding the knife and several guns in the process. The small shudder brought you back to reality and you exhaled softly, before you sat back and looked at the countless weapons. Had he ever killed someone with them? Most likely.

But for a strange, inexplicable reason, you didn’t really care. Not really. Because it wasn’t real. Not then, not there, not in that moment. What was real, was him and his…

Desires.

You opened your mouth and closed it, before your fingers slowly closed around a small handgun. You swallowed thickly and carefully held it up, only to realize it was far heavier than you always assumed. The material felt cold and wrong in your hand.

Your mind involuntarily wandered back to the day he pressed one of them against your temple or…his. You closed your eyes. The thought of him…

Him…

With a shuddery gasp, the gun slipped through your fingers and landed on the carpet.

There was no thought more painful than that one. You couldn’t lose him. Not ever.

You loved him. And you loved him far too much.

Enough, to be what he wanted.

Enough, to give in to his desires.

You took another deep breath and picked up the gun again, determined to take it back to bed with you. You wanted to surprise him, right?

All you had to do beforehand was to make sure that it wasn’t loaded.

A frown formed on your face, when you realized you didn’t even know how to do that. The thought of accidentally shooting yourself, while waiting for him to come home…It didn’t sound all too appealing, though it did sound like something that could happen to you.

You sighed and already gave up the thought of ever finding the cuffs, when you caught sight of something else instead. It was far in the back of the wardrobe and you were sure, for some reason, you weren’t supposed to see it.

Of course you weren’t supposed to touch his gun, either, but you felt he would forgive you, once he realized you were slowly submitting to his every desire.

Even if it meant him fucking you, while he held a gun to your head. In your mouth…Or, God help you, somewhere else.

You were twisted. You were sure you were. Because you felt it. You felt how the thought did things to you.

But for now you tried to push the thought aside and instead glanced back at the box.

Then again, what terrible thing could be inside there?

Someone’s teeth maybe?

Your soft smile disappeared the second you realized it was possible. You nearly recoiled in disgust. But then you realized, you had to know.

It couldn’t be teeth. It was too sick. Too deranged.

Too…him?

No. No, no, no.

As if in a trance, you picked up the light, wooden box and took off the lid.

No teeth inside. Only…

Fuck.

What was in there was so much worse than teeth.

Your forehead creased into a small frown, which grew further with every second.

And suddenly you felt nauseous.

No.

Oh, no.

You nearly dropped the box and backed away like you’d been struck, the moment you heard it.

“Goddamn it." He sighed impatiently and the door slowly closed behind him. "You weren’t supposed to see that.”

___________________________________

Tag list 1:

@mitsuki-dreamfree @kpopsmutty69 @heroine-chique @vkeyy @mizuwki @blu-brrys @z0mbi345 @yourpointbreak @ayieayee @freddyzeppsworld @lola11111111 @indifitel6661 @salesmanlover08 @laurenbenoit70 @lalalaa2210 @lila-marshal @auspicious-lilana @0-aubrie0 @lovelyaegyo @theredvelvetbitch @violentbluess @muriels-lover @dorayakissu @eviebuggg @muchwita @ririgy @strxlemon @obsessedwthdilfs @kiwilov3 @misty-q

Author's note: Did I lately mention that I love you, guys?

Ps. The Tteokbokki and the teasing were anon requests! I loved them and I hope I did them justice!

[thejoysofdessert]

The pain and discomfort I feel right now is indescribable. For some reason I can't dissociate right now. I haven't been fully in my body is half a decade and this moment where the hyperaesthesia is strong and every cell in my body is screaming in pain and touch hot cold pressure and movement all make the pain worse is when my brain decides to attach to my body again

[lfcgirlie866]

The Girl Who Broke A Million Hearts ~ Jude Bellingham x oc

Ok so you guys really surprised me by voting for this fic the most in the poll! I was expecting this to be the least popular option tbh, and I feel like it's really badly written 😭 I apologise in advance if it is!

Summary: 'I know the baby in your belly isn't mine, but if you let me, then I'll love her like she is'

Tropes: Childhood friends, not realising their feelings until it's (maybe) too late, pregnancy, found family

Warnings: fmc mentions death of a parent, there may be smut eventually in the story but idk yet

Prologue

As I sit outside in the mild Spanish night air, looking out across the horizon, I simultaneously wish for the darkness to end and also for the day to never come. The light means I won't be left alone with my thoughts anymore, but it also means that I have to leave Madrid behind and book a flight back to England. It means I have to leave Jude and face up to what a disaster my life has become in the last week.

How could it have all gone so wrong so quickly?

Last week, I was engaged to the man I thought I would be with forever, six months pregnant with his baby, too. I thought I knew where my life was going.

Now I'm just pregnant and alone. I don't have a home to go back to. No family. Nothing. No one.

I'm slowly spiralling, worrying about what the hell I'm supposed to do next and regretting almost every decision I've ever made.

You're a failure, Sapphy. Your mum would be so disappointed in you, I think to myself, trying to hold back a sob. You're a loser. You're too weak to do what she did and raise a baby alone.

Maybe I should just suck it up and go back to my ex, Aiden. Give in and do what he wanted me to; Move halfway across the world with him. At least then I'd have a home again

But you wouldn't be happy, Saph. Not there, and not with him. Not after everything that's happened. After what he said...

'You'd do it for him, though. Wouldn't you?'

And the answer has been plaguing my thoughts ever since.

"Jeeze, Saph. It's almost 4AM. What 'er you doing out here?"

Jude's familiar voice startles me out of my thoughts, almost like I'd summoned him here with them. I turn around and drink him in. Lit only by the lights in the pool beside me, he looks just as beautiful as he always does as he walks over to where I'm sitting, and my stomach twists and turns at the mix of emotions he churns up.

Jude Bellingham. The boy I've known since he was eight, the one I grew up alongside of, the one who I watched become a world-class footballer right before my eyes. He is quite possibly the sweetest human on this planet, and I'll never, ever forget the truly heartfelt words he spoke at my mum's funeral. He means everything to me, but he's always just been a friend. Always. There was never a time when it could have been more. At least, it never crossed my mind at the time anyway.

But since Aiden said those words to me, I can't help looking at Jude differently. I wish I could stop, but now that I've seen the light, I don't think I can ever go back.

When his brother called me and asked if I wanted to fly out and watch Jude's game yesterday, I didn't hesitate. I jumped on that plane and then screamed my heart out watching him play. I forgot all the bad stuff for a while, but being in his home just brought it all back and I started drowning in my thoughts again.

"Jobe said he was worried about you yesterday. Now I am too, Saph." He says quietly, his fingers lightly stroking down my back, making me shiver.

I should tell him what's happened. I know I should, but at the same time, how can I?

He's THE Jude Bellingham. He's on top of the fucking world right now. I can't drag him down from that. I can't burden him with my own issues. These are my problems, I'm the one who has to deal with them. And, if I tell him I left my fiancé then he's going to want to know why. I'd have to tell him that I've become one of those girls, someone I never ever wanted to be; Just one of the millions who've fallen for him.

Some kind of dam shatters inside of me and as hard as I try, I can't hold it all back any longer. The story comes pouring out with a mixture of sobs and tears as he holds me tightly in his arms.

But there's one thing I don't mention: the fact that I might now have feelings for him, and maybe I always have done.

~~~~♡♡♡♡~~~~☆☆☆☆~~~~♡♡♡♡~~~~

A/n: Ahhh I'm so scared to see what you guys think of this 🫣 This is definitely just an introduction and the story will go back and explain how they met/ became friends etc etc.

If you're interested in reading more then please let me know ❤️

[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

I'm a rabid dirty dog, and I bite Gale

Masterlist Word count: 558 Redemed durge x Gale Read on AO3 Back to the start

Summary: You are dirty, gross, disgusting. All those years you've spend torturing innocent souls and now you're suddenly expected to live a normal life while the terrors of your past have only just started flooding back. You are not normal. You are dirty. And you bite.

'Gale,' you answer, not really looking for another lecture on some obscure thing. Though you had found some peace in listening to his ramblings. He has a nice voice to listen to and the passion with which he talks of one thing or another makes you long for a future. For when you find out your passion. One besides murder.  'You seem miles away. Are you alright?'  'Fine,' you grumble and take a long drink from your goblet, 'just trying to figure out what to do next.'  'Well, if you can't figure it out,' he stammers, turning a bright shade of red, 'I've got an extra room in my tower in Waterdeep.' Is he... flirting? With you? Why would he do that? You are a disgusting, vile being. Nothing deserving of love takes the same shape you are. You should be spit at, thrown out on the street with the rats, treated like the scum you are. Yet this man... is flirting with you. Has he always been flirting with you?  Flirting. It seems such a menial thing. So awfully normal. It's nothing like the treatment you are used to. Sure, you've had sex, but it had never been anything more than a carnal desire for release. Most of your sexual escapades ended in death and you don't want to kill Gale. You figure it's not normal to want to kill a romantic partner.  'Gale, I am dangerous. You don't want me in your tower. What if I snap?' Your argument seems meaningless to him. His eyes don't change, his cheeks are still flush. He almost makes it feel like you're lying. Maybe you wish you were.  'Tav, you have to remember that you are no long Bhaal's chosen. You're free,' he argues with a kind tone, 'sure, it will be a long road to recovery and normalcy, but I am certain you will make it... And I hope you want me to walk that road with you.'  'You are treating me kinder than I am deserving of,' you mumble, moving a bit away from Gale on the log you share in hopes the distance will deter him. But Gale is stubborn, you know that much, so you might just have to push off in a full on sprint to get away from him. To keep him safe.  'Don't start that,' he grumbles and moves closer to you, 'you are deserving of so much more than I can give you. You might just be the strongest person I know and I will not let a day go by where I won't remind you of that. Tav, you truly are a sight to behold. I hope you know that I adore you.' His hand reaches up to touch your cheek, but you bare your teeth out of habit. Strangely, he doesn't pull his hand back. His eyes soften as they meet yours and his hand moves to your cheek. You don't bite and he trusted you wouldn't.  A strange fuzzy feeling moves through you, a rumbling in your chest and a tingle in your belly. Are these romantic feelings? Are you capable of those? It seems you are.  'If I go with you,' Gale's eyes widen in excitement, 'will you promise me to put some sort of spell on me so that I can't hurt you?'  'Anything for you.' 

[artmolonara]

Snow Day - A Lumpy Where's Waldo Story

A continuation of the Uncle Waldo series I've been creating. You can read the last two chapters, Lullaby Bye and Peek-A-Boo, via the links.

Also shout out to @nami-ramen again for continuing to make awesome illustrations based on my writing. You can see their rendition of the Peek-A-Boo chapter here (I also love the idea that the Detective was awake :oD)

Ok, fair warning: this one is a doozy, and deals with some VERY HEAVY subject matter that may be uncomfortable to some (Nothing bad done by our titular Waldo tho, he a "good" boy in this)

*** Proceed with Caution, and Enjoy ***

Two years. Seemed hard to believe how the time was flying. Waldo felt it not in his own body, but saw it on those he had been watching. That being, the Detective, and their child, Junior.

Enough time had now passed since Wenda's death that grief no longer clung to the Detective like a shadow. Waldo now only saw it periodically, in the night.

And Junior, they were now walking and talking, kinda, all over the place. The pair of them had begun to take walks over stroller rides, and Waldo had enjoyed tagging along on their strolls as a distant watcher. Every now and again, Junior might spot Waldo, and he'd give a wave. The kid seemed better at finding him than the Detective was.

Truly an marvelous development.

...

The end of the year was upon the world, and with it, snow had arrived.

Waldo liked snowy days, and not just because he liked to paint the snow with stripes of red, or watch screams become visible in the cold air, but also because the world could truly be still on winter days. Never was anytime truly as quiet, calming.

Though quiet wasn't what he was seeking right now. What was bringing him more joy was the squeals of delight carrying on the breeze as Junior and the Detective slide down a snow covered hill on a toboggan for the 11th time in a row.

It was a popular spot in the park, and a bunch of other families were sledding and snowboarding there as well, all enjoying the winter break.

Waldo watched from the other side of the frozen pines, unseen by all.

It was a rather fun thing, sledding. Part of Waldo wished he could join in on the activity, but alas, he must remain unseen, as per the game. For now, he was content to just observe. Perhaps, if he was lucky, he might watch one of the sledders, other than his hunter and their ward, wipe out spectacularly.

The wish was clearly a premonition, as within the minute, a rambunctious teen lost control of their snowboard, tumbling and crashing into a tree at incredible speeds, leaving their leg twisted backwards. Waldo smirked to himself at the screams that filled the air.

The responsible adults there, the Detective included, were immediately drawn to the scene. The Detective turned to Junior, speaking and gesturing to them in a way that Waldo recognized as "stay put." They then walked over with most of the other parents, leaving a series of kids sitting on the slop.

Junior was well behaved, Waldo knew, and was very good at staying put when told to, so there was no fear of them wandering off.

...

That was when Waldo noticed the man.

He seemed to come from behind a tree, as if he had always been there. Waldo was surprised he hadn't spied such a festive sweater.

Slowly, he walked in the direction of everyone, pausing to look at the commotion. After a moment, he looked towards the hill, and all of the children there.

The hairs on Waldo's neck stood up straight in recognition. He knew a predator when he saw one.

It began to make a beeline for Junior at an even pace. Waldo's grip tightened on his walking stick.

Did it dare?

It crouched down next to Junior, saying something to them, to which the child gave no reaction. Then, with a final glace around, the dingo scooped up the baby, and began to walk briskly away.

Oh, it did.

No one else had seen, all their attention had been on the lame teen screaming their guts out. But Waldo had seen, and when he was done, he was going to make those wails sound like cries of joy in comparison.

Oh, this will be fun...

...

Waldo could move extremely fast when he wanted to. Teleportation was one mode he traveled, but he could move in the space between that as well. Were anyone to see, they might just notice a strange, slightly sparking, gust of wind moving through the park, and how the lamps it passed seemed to blink on for a second.

He tracked the creature to the parking lot, seeing just as the car began to turn out. It moved at an leisurely pace, obviously not wanting to draw attention to itself.

Waldo kept pace with it, until it came to the first stop sign right at the park exit. Then, Waldo made himself reappear, inconspicuously, right next to the sign. Feigning a smile, Waldo waved at the car, and began to cross the road, acting like a common pedestrian.

The creature in the driver's seat feigned a polite smile back, acting like a common human. Waldo got a better look at it. The person suit it wore was unremarkable, a rather convincing disguise. His gaze looked then to the passenger's seat, where Junior was sitting. The child's blank face of confusion suddenly turned up to a smile in recognition at seeing their Uncle Waldo.

Waldo felt his smile twitch into a sneer. They were sitting in a booster seat.

A damned booster seat.

It had done this before.

I'm going to take my time with this one.

Stopping directly in front of the car, Waldo leaned forward on his cane, and began to stare daggers at the driver, still keeping his smirk. The creature's grin faulted a little, and it gave a polite beep with the horn. Waldo just shook his head, and rested his foot on the bumper, smile now becoming much, much wider.

The dingo caught on now, all pretense gone. In an attempt at retaliation, the gas was floored, but the tires only spun in the slushy snow, unmoving against Waldo's heel.

Enough preamble. Waldo slammed the end of his cane into the compacted ice, and there was a sudden sparking light in and around the car. Streetlights overhead flared and exploded, the car's engine sputtered and died, and before the beast had time to react, another cane appeared from the dark of the back seat and hooked around the creature's neck, pulling it taught against the headrest with no hope of air.

Move, and you die.

It was a command said by him, but not by HIM him.

While the creature's struggling stilled, an arm, identical to Waldo's own, reached passed and hit the child lock button. Waldo nodded, walking over the the passenger's door and opening it.

Junior's eyes had been locked on Waldo, and now seeing him closer, they reached out their arms, "Wally!"

Waldo's smile softened, "Hey, kiddo. Quite an adventure you're on today, but I think it's time we go back to the Detective. Don't want them to think something," he glanced up at the tumor, "bad happened to you." His teeth bared a bit wider as the cane around it's neck tightened to the point it's eyes bulged; the gurgle was pleasant to hear.

He undid the straps and picked Junior up and out of the car. As soon as he kicked the door shut, the car came back to life.

Drive.

The vehicle took off, and Waldo took a moment to wave goodbye, Junior mimicking.

He would catch up later.

...

No less than fifteen minutes had elapsed since the start of the whole ordeal, and over the sound of the distant ambulance sirens, Waldo could hear the Detective calling out for Junior. Their voice was just starting to shift in pitch from worry to general concern, and there was at least two other voices calling out as well.

As they reached a spot nearby, still out of view, Waldo slowly lowered Junior down to their feet, kneeling beside them.

"You OK?" Waldo asked, taking a moment to look the child over to makes sure nothing was out of place.

Still in good spirits, glancing off in the direction they were being called, Junior just gave a distracted, "Uh huh."

Waldo sighed, a worry now filling his chest, which was a very strange sensation, "OK well... listen OK?" He put his hands on the their shoulders.

Bright eyes looked to his, focusing when they saw how serious he was.

"You have to be careful of people you don't know. There are adults out there that could-"

Another call for Junior. There wasn't time to go into a full stranger danger lesson, unfortunately. He hoped the Detective would do that for him soon after.

"Just try to stay close to your Uncle Waldo and the Detective, OK? And if anyone else tries to take you somewhere or do something you don't like, you bite them." He put up his hands to mimic claws, "Like a T-Rex."

Junior smiled, and made a soft "Rawr!"

Waldo chuckled, "Rawr, that's right." The worry still swirled in his chest, and acting on it, he hugged Junior to him protectively.

"Just... be careful OK? I can't always be around to protect you..."

Almost as if comforting him, Junior's tiny hand patted his arm, followed by a soft, "Oh kay."

The Detective called again, and Junior turned away as Waldo let go. He smiled, "Race you to the Detective, ready?" He faked prepping a sprint, to which the child bounded in place with new adrenaline, "ReadysetGO!"

Junior took off, leaving Waldo sitting in the snow. He took a moment, quelling the waves of anxiousness he wasn't at all used to, before standing up and watching again from a distance.

Junior was found immediately, the Detective seemingly going through the same motions and emotions Waldo just had with Junior, talking somewhat sternly before hugging with relief. The pair soon left the park in the wake of the ambulance taking the forgotten lame teen to the hospital.

...

Later that evening, Waldo visited the Detective residence. Junior had already been sent to bed, having just transitioned out of the crib. The Detective now sat alone in front of a small smoldering fireplace, staring into the embers with an exhausted expression, a half finished mug of hot cocoa on the coffee table before them.

Waldo knew what they must be thinking, as his thoughts were there too. And while Waldo could see down the current path and knew that things would turn out alright, the worry and looming fear of what could have happened or happen was as oppressive as the cold night.

When the Detective nodded into sleep, and a passing car's engine roared, Waldo let himself in. He put out the remaining fire, then found a blanket on the couch to lay across the Detective's from. Long hands rested gently on weary shoulders, giving them a soft squeeze.

"Don't worry, they'll be alright," a gentle reassuring pat, a thumb caressing the base of a neck, "They have us. And we are in this together."

Tension slowly left the sleeping form. Waldo smiled, picking up the mug and downing the rest of the lukewarm liquid, lips on the rim touching the ghost of the Detective's in an indirect kiss.

A grandfather clock began to chime twelve. Waldo smirked with his last sip.

Time to have some fun.

"I'll see you for the holidays," He promised before vanishing with a crack. The Detective stirred, blearily looking around, before getting up to check on Junior.

...

It was at the final stroke of midnight that Waldo materialized before the darkened building on the edge of town. The perfect playground where he and his selves wouldn't be interrupted.

A small concrete room awaited. Inside had been strung up with red and white lights, glinting off the various tools and blunt objects strewn about like x-mas toys. Seems his alters also couldn't wait for the holidays to begin.

They looked at him as he came in.

"Ah good, we're all here then." Five sets of eyes feel on the dangerous cancer tied to a chair in the middle of the room. It struggled against its bonds, whimpering out muffled pleas for mercy behind duct tape. All futile.

It was a shame this work was going to have to be unaccredited. He would have loved to string this monster up by it's intestines for the Detective as a present. But unfortunately, the game required him to be subtle. Still, that didn't mean he couldn't play.

The situation had already been explained to it, why this was happening, and what was going to happen. The horror in it's eyes was at it's peak. Good, now they could get the party started.

A small radio was switched on, the static of cycling through stations rung the room like a drum. After a couple channels of festive music were passed over, a station playing Queen's Don't Stop Me Now was selected.

The tune filled Waldo up with anticipation, and he began to prance about to the rhythm. He channeled it all, all the new emotions, into a feeling of righteous fury that fueled him. Oh, he would make this last. Last for a very, very long time.

And as the Waldos began to harmonize with Mercury, dancing towards the beast with canes and weapons raised, the inhuman thing screamed out in glorious terror.

...

"COLD" CASE BODY FOUND

Warning: This news story contains graphic descriptions of crimes that may disturb some readers.

A dismembered and decimated body was discovered on Friday, February 14th hidden in a snowman in a local park.

This killing, according to police statements, is connected to the body parts found in snowmen that have been found over the last few months. DNA testing has identified them as belonging to the individual, but identification of the victim has yet to be determined.

The first of the body parts, a thumb, was discovered in early January of this year, hidden inside of a snowman in a local picnic area. Several others were soon discovered in the area, including more fingers, toes, and teeth. All had minor stages of decomposition due to being encased in snow, and analysts determined that all were removed from a living victim.

More snowmen appeared over the next few weeks, including more and more body parts taken from a still living victim. Evidence of torture was found, including blunt force trauma, stab wounds, electrocution, asphyxiation, poisoning, removal of skin, insect and animal predation, and burning via gasoline.

The body recovered showed extensive abuse, according to witnesses. "It wasn't even a person anymore," one witness described, "just a torso with it's heart exposed, like one of those anatomy classroom statues, but burnt to a crisp and if the peeled muscle side was the whole thing."

The final cause of death was determined to be hypothermia, and set just hours before the body was discovered. It is possible that the victim was encased into a snowman while still alive.

The hunt for the perpetrator is still ongoing. Our reporters got the following statement from the chief of police during yesterday's briefing.

"The person who committed this heinous act will be brought to justice. The manhunt has been expanded to the neighboring counties, and we urge anyone with any information to come forward."

When asked if this is at all tied to the Waldo killings that occurred almost 3 years ago, the chief of police stated, "There is no evidence linking those cases at this time. This appears to be just a single victim over a long period, which does not match the MO of Waldo."

Identification of the body is expected to be determined next week.

...

Alert

Be on the look out for this man, Fred-----------. Last seen three months ago.

The assailant's vehicle was discovered in ---------- with evidence of child kidnapping and -------------- discovered in a hidden compartment.

If you see this man, contact authorities immediately.

...

Missing Children Found

5 children have been discovered after having been missing for months.

They are identified as ------------, ---------------, ---------------,----------------------, and ------------------------------. All were victims of kidnapping at various different times last year. According to reports, all have evidence of various types of abuse.

The children were discovered outside the local detective office, having apparently been dropped off.

The children have been reunited with their families and are expected to receive treatment for their trauma.

We reached out to the families and the officers on this case for more information.

"Well of course, we're really relieved that she's home, and she's safe now," the mother of one of the children told us in an interview. "According to ---------, she was saved from a bad man by a bunch of Santa's elves. I've never been one for praying until our baby was taken, and I think perhaps someone must have heard our prayer and returned our baby to us."

All children seem to identify that they were being held somewhere dark and abused by a man described as -------------------------, then being left alone a long time without food before being "rescued" by multiple different people. These individuals reportedly fed and cared for them for a short while before releasing them.

One child described the rescuers as looking like "Mr. Mint from Candyland".

At this time, no assailants have been identified. Investigation of this case is still ongoing.

...

It would be a couple weeks more before the Detective figured something out.

The placement of the snowmen seemed random at first, but after piecing it together in order of appearance, words began to form in red string upon the town map.

The last one, the body, was the final dot in the exclamation:

DON'T TALK TO STRANGERS!

~FIN/to be continued~

OK, a long one, I know, but god, I just needed a creep like that to suffer, and to make Waldo go full Dexter/Rorschach on them. Also if it wasn't obvious, old Freddy K was the inspiration for that guy (the remake one at that) F that guy!

I think I have just one more Junior focused Waldo fic planned, and perhaps a "X-mas special" involving the Detective and a sprig of mistletoe.

By the way, if you like my work, please consider supporting me on Ko-Fi, would really help me out a lot right now.

BUY ME A KO-FI

[sh1-n0bu]

Dear Judal/Judar, (From Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic),

Hello! How are you doing these days? I've heard from a source that you've been busy with your duties lately. It's not easy being a Magi, from what a little boy with blue hair told me.

Do you still take time to care for yourself, such as doing your makeup and hair? I remember it being really pretty the last time I saw it, though, my memory might not be the best. Years of working yourself as a slave in the slave trade does that for you, I suppose.

Right, the reason I'm writing this letter. Today is actually my last day of being a slave. I wish I could say that I'm finally being freed from my shackles from all these years, but that isn't the case.

Unfortunately, I will be killed tomorrow for the death of my master.

I'm writing this letter from my cell while waiting for the executioners to take me away, to the person I value the most. I still can't think of a reason why you helped me that day when I was attacked by those bandits. Perhaps it was for your own benefit, or you simply did it out of boredom. That seems like something you would do.

Or the occasional nights where you visited my barren room to accompany me. Those visits might've been small to you, but to me, they were more precious than any gold or gems I've seen. You made life feel like it was worth living a little longer in.

I may have only met you sparingly, but you've given me advice and wisdom that helped push me forward, to keep striving for what I wanted. Even if it was selfish.

In the end, all I truly wanted was you.

Sincerely, a friend.

I hope this letter finds its way to you, even after I pass.

𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜! 𝙣𝙤𝙗𝙪’𝙨 𝙢𝙖𝙞𝙡 𝙙𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙞𝙘𝙚!

to: judar from magi

being a magi was, in all honesty, fucking boring. at least, to someone like judar.

he hated the constant bows and kneeling, the constant titles, names that are bestowed upon him. the duties of a magi, of having to choose a king so that one day, his chosen king would actually become a successful one rather than some pathetic excuse of a ruler. don’t even get him started on the annoying meetings, rituals, magoi training, diplomatic reasonings and travelings. ugh. at least he can run away from those boring, long, arduous meeting to have some fun in the gardens.

by fun, the arrogant magi meant slacking off as he bites into another random peach he stole from the kitchen on the way there. or even by running away from the castle’s depressing walls to see what was different on the outside world since the last time he visited. he could also hear some of those pathetic elder magicians cry out as they chase after him in a measly attempt to bring him back to his "duties" as they call it. duties, his ass. all the magi saw were bunch of papers, scrolls and more boring meetings with diplomats. he wanted to have some fun, y'know?!

it was during one of those usual running away from duty moment when he saw something that barely managed to pique his interest. a slave, judging by the chains keeping their feet together to not let them run away, but somehow protecting a kid as they face off against a bunch of hooligans looking to make names for themselves. judging by the lack of magoi fluttering around the adult slave, they weren't a magician, a dungeon capturer, a household vessel user nor even a fanalis. the slave was just some random human who was acting as a hero to protect the kid covering behind them.

judar should have left when the first punch landed and yet something compelled him to stay. to watch how the common, unlucky folk suffer while he goes on about his day and night like nothing is out of place within the safety and comfort of the palace walls. watch as how even when threatened with the most vile and terrifying actions imaginable against them, the human persists to keep a random child safe.

to intervene when the third punch landed.

the dark magi doesn’t know what compelled him to act out or to protect this random slave and a homeless child. they meant nothing to him, just some random poor folk that he saw. yet something felt weird. seeing how the unlucky get treated simply for being born unlucky caused him to stay and to protect them when they could provide him absolutely nothing. not even a fickle of entertainment. magis are the ones who have stayed at the top of the food chain since the beginning of time and will continue to do so. the magois and rukh of the world and people are at their disposal, ready to carry out their command at any given moment.

yet here judar was, protecting some two strangers whose rukhs barely flickered enough to cause some color. such fickle beings, such unlucky creatures and yet here he was… here he was reaching a hand out to help them on their feet, accompanied with a “are you two alright?”. what has gotten into him all of a sudden? whatever it was, it didn’t go away after saving their lives. no, it stayed and lingered on forcing him to do the same.

since there was nothing else to give the twisted magi some sort of entertainment at the time, he decided to continue to stay with the pair. and he continued to do so even at the following days when he no longer needed to save them. just his presence hovering around the pair was enough to shoo away any other assholes that wanted to cause them harm. and in a way, judar felt happy that no one was hurting them, at being their protecter in a sense.

everyday, judar would find himself running away from his duties at the kou castle to pay a visit to the slave he helped. the child had disappeared one day he returned and all the explanation he got was that the child had escaped. how? no one knows. but the adult who was left behind had an odd sense around them. their rukh was starting to dim and become more slower. were they sick? they didn’t look like it. but just in case they were indeed getting sick, he whispered a few health spells on them alongside a protection one before leaving.

each day judar comes to spend some time with the slave — while also using it as an excuse to run away from his magi work — he started to look forward to these little moments in his life. a peach from the castle one day, a fruit on the market square he saw on another day, a beautiful yet a simple looking ring one of the merchants were selling. each time he brings a little gift, the slave always bashfully denies it at first, saying that they were a slave and not a worker. each time judar made them accept his gifts.

judar will never confirm it out loud but he loved the little meetings he had with them. they were… nice. kind to him. not the bootlicking type of kind that he runs into everyday but the kind that is genuinely coming from the bottom of the heart and he felt that. judar enjoyed the little laughs the slave would make whenever he tells a joke or a funny story from the castle. the little dimple in their cheeks and the bright smiles. judar liked the look of awe on their face whenever he showed them a small trick — a little show of rukhs swarming at the tip of his wand or the icy flower he creates at random before tucking it behind their ear.

the prideful magi would never say it, but… he loved this person. this kind person who just gotten unlucky.

“i’ll get you out of here, alright? wait for me. i’ll come back tomorrow to set you free”

yet where were you? the rooms that you usually clean were being cleaned by another servant. when the servant in the room saw him, they dropped their towel to the floor in shock. but judar didn’t care if the servant was about to drop to their knees to honor his title or anything. he had no time for it.

“you didn’t knew, high magi? their master was killed and so, all the master’s slaves must be killed as well” the poor shaken up servant explains, handing him a letter as well. taking the letter, the magi wasted no time in ripping open the letter to read its content. judar was seeing red. he always had a certain amount of hate towards those who worked in the slave trades. he may be egotistical at times but judar still had feelings and emotions.

and right now, he was enraged.

“where? where did the executioners took them?” he asked frantically, almost sounding like a madman as he forces the poor servant to answer him. if his past self had looked at himself now, he would have laughed at the look on his face. maybe even mock himself for even daring to become this soft. but he didn’t care for that or how soft he had grown since meeting them. right now, he was just focused on finding them. and this time, he will hold his promise and set them free.

[phantomtwitch]

Masterpost

PhantomTwitch | 30-something | she/her

Hi! Welcome to my blog! It's only taken me over a decade to finally do this. I love cartoons and writing and all kinds of other things, and I have the kind of lame sense of humor that makes three year olds laugh hysterically and anyone older than ten roll their eyes most of the time.

This place is a disorganized disaster (kind of like my brain), with this post probably the closest thing to any sense of order I've tried to impose on it. Below are links to my various writings, as Tumblr's search bar sucks and most of you are probably members of the phandom that stumbled across one of my works somewhere and came looking for more.

(Though whether that's the case or not, you're welcome either way!)

I write a lot and genuinely love it. The only part of writing I actually hate is coming up with titles and summaries. Sometimes I get a decent flash of inspiration for a title, other times? Ehhhhh.

I'm happy to answer any asks and will, like many, happily ramble on endlessly about my fics.

I rarely post WIPs, so unless noted, all of the works below are completed as of this time and on AO3.

Danny Phantom Fanfics

Echoes

There was something wrong with Danny Fenton.

Nearly eighteen months after a lab accident left him hospitalized, his friends and family assumed he was still recovering from the side effects of his near-death experience. But after witnessing Danny do something ghostly, they begin to suspect something much more sinister is afoot and set out to save their friend from the clutches of the evil ghost possessing him.

As The Ice Begins to Crack

Little by little, as the public’s perception of him changed, Danny’s ghost form continued to reflect it. He looked more human every day, more confident, and more like the superheroes from the comics they used to read on the floor of Danny’s room as kids. As the months passed there was a moment when Tucker began to forget, to wonder if what he saw when Danny first stepped out of the portal that day was nothing more than a nightmare.

Inspired by this post on tumblr from paenling

Doubt Comes In

For InvisoBang 2023.

When Danny Fenton returns on the first day of spring after being kidnapped by the Fright Knight, something is off. His teeth are too sharp, his skin is too pale, and when he’s angry, the lights flicker as a harsh chill and the scent of ozone permeates the air as if heralding an approaching storm. There are moments when he is impossibly still, more statue than flesh, more ghost than human, and little by little everyone wonders if the child sitting in their midst is truly still Danny at all.

Scars He Hides

For Ecto-implosion 2023.

The portal accident left Danny with scars that glow whether he's Fenton or Phantom. He's done his best to hide them, but it's only a matter of time before someone finds out his secret.

Beyond the Grave

For Ecto-implosion 2023.

At the start of his freshman year, Danny Fenton disappeared. But much as Dash didn’t care and preferred to focus on football, it’s hard to avoid thinking about it after seeing Fenton dig himself out from an unmarked grave in the woods.

What We Have Been is What We Are

Based on this tumblr prompt from MadameTamma here

Maddie has a near death experience when an invention blows up on her in the lab. Her spirit is suddenly thrust from her body, and Clockwork appears to guide her down the Path, presenting her with a chance to learn from her past as her life flashes before her eyes. Little by little there are signs that she's missed something, that there's something off with Danny, and she finds herself risking her very existence to learn the truth.

So You Have Wished It

Something is wrong. Something has changed.

The signs start off so small, so easy to dismiss, but little by little it begins to spiral until Sam can't ignore it anymore and she's forced to face reality once again.

(This is a one-shot from part of a bigger AU I am working on currently)

My Body Is a Cage

For Angst Fest 2023

His friends aren't sure how much longer they can keep this a secret. Every time a ghost appears, Danny dies again. And every time Danny dies, they bring him back.

It doesn't help that no matter how much they try to explain to Danny what's happening, the truth never sticks.

Unnamed Electric Core OneShot

Currently on Tumblr only, now a bigger WIP, but this can still be read on its own. Another No One Knows AU with the ghosts being creepier than in canon.

Unnamed WIP

Currently on Tumblr only, this was inspired by yet another MadameTamma prompt where Danny does not remember being human. Body Horror fic and currently a WIP.

[writethrough]

The Diviner (Part V)

(Morpheus x Prophetess Reader)

Synopsis: Your body needs time to heal, but your unconscious is finally dreaming.

Warnings: None? (Message me if you see any.)

Word Count: 3219

A/N: Did you really think I'd leave you hanging a full week after that little blurb of a last chapter? I think I've more than made up for it with this sucker.

Thank you to everyone who's stuck it out with me. I really enjoyed hearing what you like about this series.

To everyone who has reblogged, you are spectacular humans and deserve an endless supply of your favorite food.

I hope you all enjoy this final chapter! I'd love to know what you thought of this series, and if I should post more multi-part fics in the future.

Series Masterlist

You wander. A maze of darkness before you.  

You exhale and remember Morpheus.  

A room appears, lit by stained glass, with a throne in the middle. And he's there, alive, staring at you in shock. 

—  

“I don’t understand,” you say. “How am I awake?”  

You were dying. At least it felt like you were dying. So, why are you...fine?  

“If I may?” Lucienne asks. Morpheus called for her as soon as he saw you.  

His chin dips a fraction, but it’s enough for Lucienne to continue.  

“Given your abilities, I believe the severity of your injuries—and healing in the Dreaming—has allowed your subconscious to manifest.” She smiles, pleased with her next words. “You’re dreaming, my lady.”  

Your brow furrows, and you glance from her to Morpheus.  

“How is that possible? If I’m healing, shouldn’t my mind be recovering as well?”  

“Your mind is the most resilient part of you, prophetess. It stands to reason it would need little to no time to replenish,” Morpheus says.  

Your eyes lower to the floor, considering this.  

For centuries, you’ve seen possible futures—travesties no one could imagine. And you haven’t forgotten one.  

Day in and day out, vision after vision, a constant rush of images, sounds, smells, and even sensations when intense enough. Your mind has built up a tolerance for nearly anything and everything.  

It seems almost dying is child's play for it though your body would be down for some time.  

You take in Morpheus’ throne room, truly seeing where you are. “I’m…dreaming.” And you laugh. In disbelief, in wonder—in sheer joy.  

You are dreaming.  

—  

Morpheus transported your body into his realm as soon as you fainted.  

Between your physical injuries and the attack meant for Morpheus, your only chance was the magic and tools in the Dreaming.  

Lucienne, Matthew, and Death helped him stabilize you, but he never expected you to walk right up to him as if you were fine.  

However your body absorbed the attack, it caused your powers to shut down, and you’re experiencing the Dreaming for the first time in centuries.  

You’re acting yourself mostly, but sometimes you grow tired, your physical form telling your unconscious you aren’t out of the woods yet.  

Morpheus urges you to take a seat, worry flashing through his eyes.  

“I’m okay,” you say. “It’s just a minor spell.”  

“I wish I could do more,” he says, hand still on the back of your bicep.  

“You’ve done plenty. More than I could ever hope for.”  

His jaw clenches, a twitch of movement, but you catch it. You’ve gotten better at picking up his micro-expressions.  

“I mean it, Morpheus. I wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for you.” You try to push as much conviction in the words as possible.   

“You wouldn’t have been in harm's way if it wasn’t for me.”  

You shake your head, dizzying yourself and need to rest it on your hand. Morpheus’ brow pinches slightly.  

“Warrens decided to trap you and use me. I should've predicted that.”  

“That’s not in your ability,” he says.  

“And I should’ve figured I'd be in danger when Death said you’d be fine. I should’ve known she saw me dying and not you.”

It clicked not longer after you woke up. Of course, Death knew what was supposed to happen.

“You must not focus on the past. It will do nothing to aid your recovery.”  

You sigh. “I know. I just feel so stupid.”  

Your eyes are downcast. It surprises you when a gentle touch lifts your chin and directs you to focus on him.  

“I will not have you speaking as if you’ve done something wrong,” he says. “Because of you, I am alive. I will forever be grateful.”  

He waits for an answer. All you can do is nod.  

His touch vanishes, and he stands.  

“Perhaps I can show you more of the Dreaming.”  

You give him a small smile. “I’d like that.”  

—  

Time moves differently in the Dreaming. It was best when you stopped trying to keep track of it. All you know is that you’ve been recovering for some time. Long enough for you to have your role carved out here and for the residents to call you by name.  

Your exhaustion and dizzy spells are few and far between, but they’re intense and accompanied by symptoms of visions. A faint smell, a phantom touch, even a whisper of a voice, but no matter how much you try, you can’t hang onto them. They slip through your fingers before you recognize what they are. It’s like you’re missing a limb.  

Today, the loss is affecting you more than you thought it could. You miss your ability. As much trouble as it can cause, you somehow feel untethered from yourself. Even with your body lying unconscious, you’re more of a shell now than ever.  

And as much as you try to hide it, somehow, Morpheus knows.  

“You will return to yourself,” he says.  

You’re sitting in Fiddler’s Green on a bench beneath a grove of magnolia trees.  

“It feels like it’s been years,” you say, rubbing your arm. You haven’t felt the breeze on your skin since the attack. You hardly notice it now as the grass moves with it.  

You can tell he’s about to respond, and you already know what he’ll say.  

“Don’t tell me ‘it takes time’ or ‘be patient.’ I’ve been patient. I’ve had to be patient since Destiny gave me this damn power, and now I can’t even access it because I missed the signs last time!” You rub your face, trying to push the frustration out.  

He lets you have your moment to feel that anger.  

“Immortality is crueler than death,” he begins. “It's companions are loneliness and waiting.”  

You look at him, scanning his features, and nod. Your agitation cools into sympathy. 

“I forget what happened to you sometimes. I’m sorry.”  

“I will not accept an unnecessary apology,” he says. “My experiences do not outweigh yours.”  

“Nevertheless, I’m free here. You weren’t.”  

He locks eyes with you, a softness to them. “I am also free.”  

It’s like he’s latched onto your soul. His timbre pulls you closer. And you realize you don’t feel so lost when he’s around.  

“Boss!”  

You lean back and look toward the sound, missing Morpheus’ eyes widening a fraction at Matthew’s interruption, too.  

“Boss! Death’s here.” Matthew lands in front of you.  

Your brow furrows, and your heart quickens. “Death’s here?”  

Why would Death be here? She wouldn’t come to the Dreaming if she didn’t have a good reason.  

What if she’s working? What if you aren’t improving and the Dreaming is masking your worsening condition?  

Morpheus tilts his head slightly, sensing your tension. He puts the pieces together quickly as he stands. 

“I requested she come.” He turns to you, voice tender, reassuring. “I wished to spend time with her.”  

—  

You haven't seen Death since you arrived.  

She and Morpheus urged you to stay even though you wanted to give them privacy. You forgot what it was like to have friends—to be close to others. It was nice.  

Then she whisked you away, telling Morpheus it was “girl time.”  

You’re strolling on one of the paths: one that extends as long as you can walk and leads to wherever you wish.  

You’ve had enough time to think about that day, your limitations, Death’s, what Warrens did to you…  

“You knew I’d be there,” you say.  

Neither of you stop walking. It’s not a surprise that you’ve brought this up.  

“That’s why you were surprised. Not because I had a vision of Morpheus, but because I was supposed to be there all along—because I was supposed to die—and you couldn’t interfere.”  

She grimaces. “I’m sorry.”  

You let out a breathy laugh. “I should be used to all the secrecy, but I’m not.” You pause. “And yet, I get it. Price of power and all that, I guess.”  

Now, she halts. “I know this won’t bring you comfort, but your being alive is a miracle.”  

“Then how am I…”  

“I don’t know. And that’s not something I say often,” Death says. “I can only speculate, but the day Destiny came to you—before that, he came to me and asked I keep you here. I didn’t ask why, but maybe this was meant to happen. You were the only one who could save my brother.”  

You shake your head. “I still don’t understand. Why give me this power at all? Why not just put me on the path so I could save Morpheus at the end? And how could you see my murder if you made that promise?”  

“Not even I am sure of that.” She answers your last question. “But: Is that not what Destiny did? Put you on that very path?” She pauses, then softly. “And gave you a purpose. One bigger than anyone should have, but a purpose nonetheless.”  

That thought runs around your head. 

Did Destiny do that? 

It's hard to imagine that being the reason. But why else would he— 

“Do you…Do you think Destiny gave me this power so I would survive?”  

You aren’t sure that makes sense. 

You. Out of everyone that could make a difference in the world, Destiny chose you.  

Death shrugs. “Again, I can’t be certain. But think about it, it brought you to Hob, to me," she gives you a knowing look, "to Dream.” 

You roll your eyes. “Need I remind you that I hated Morpheus for the longest time.”  

“Need I remind you that was in the past tense.” She grins.  

“So, you’re saying it’s harder to kill me than I originally thought,” you say, trying to change the subject.  

“None of that,” she tuts. “Even though it’s not under the best circumstances, I am happy you and Morpheus are getting to know one another.”  

You hum. “I spent so long not knowing what to feel for him—having all of these unanswered questions—it’s strange…to finally have that behind me.” You pause. “I enjoy his company.”  

“I would’ve used a stronger word than that,” she says, grinning cheekily. 

The tiny smiles Morpheus sent you and the glances you threw him could’ve made her squeal if she was the type.  

“Okay,” you wave her off, “enough.”  

She puts her hands up, yielding.  

You hesitate before telling her this next part.  

“I think—No, I know my visions are returning.”  

“That’s great!” She grabs your arm. “...Isn’t it?”  

“It’s just…They aren’t back yet. They’re not full visions. And I don’t know what that means. Or how long I’ll be like this.” You gesture to yourself.  

She smiles empathetically. “It means you’re getting better. I can only imagine how frustrating it’s been, but you are healing.”  

You nod. She’s right.  

She slips her arm into yours. “Now, let me tell you all the embarrassing stories about my brother.”  

You throw your head back and laugh.  

—  

It’s been a few days since then, you think. You and Morpheus have spent most of your time together. He’s become someone you care for deeply, and you wonder if he feels the same.  

You think he does when he pulls out your chair or helps you cross a stream. He’s interested in your life besides your visions. And when you told him about your family and loved ones throughout the years, he placed his hand atop yours. You could still feel it sometimes.  

You’re both in the library. A rare occurrence of rest brought Morpheus to curl up with you on the plush sofa. Well, you curled up. Morpheus has his feet on the floor but is leaning into the cushions.  

“I’ll have read everything in here by the time I wake up,” you joke, flipping your page.  

“I can feel your bouts of power when they rise. It will not be long now.”  

He always speaks so assuredly when it’s about your healing. His steadfastness has rubbed off on you. You aren’t so pessimistic about it anymore.  

You don’t notice you’re staring at him until he asks if something’s wrong.  

You shake your head. “No. I just don’t know what I would’ve done all this time if you weren’t here.”  

He faces forward, not staring at anything, and silence settles over you. The atmosphere shifts, and you can almost feel the tension coming from him.  

“There is no universe where I would have been elsewhere,” he says, as still as ever.  

And it’s his seriousness that makes you drop your light tone and scoot closer.  

“I know. And I appreciate that.” You glance at your fingers. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”  

“You haven’t.” He rests his hand on yours. “But know that you are my priority, and I am happy to have been by your side.”  

“Morpheus…” you lock eyes, “we’ve been over this. I hate that you feel obligated to help me.”  

His brows twitch inward. “I feel no such compulsions. I am grateful you saved my life, but I can never repay such sacrifice.” He pauses. “Your wellbeing is my concern as your…friend.”  

His thumb brushes your cheekbone as he searches your eyes.  

You pull your lips into a thin line, hoping he can’t feel the heat in your cheeks. “Just know that I wouldn’t change what I did. I wanted to save you—I needed to.”  

“You didn’t—”  

“I did!” You say almost desperately. “You’re the only connection I have to my past. You’re the only one who knows who I was. I can’t lose you…”  

You’re afraid to look him in the eye, but he lifts your chin with a slightly hooked finger, tenderness in his gaze.  

“You won’t.”  

He pulls his hand away, and you realize how much closer you both have gotten.  

“You can’t promise that, though,” you whisper.  

“No. I cannot. But I can promise that ritual is gone.”  

You clench your jaw. “That won’t stop me from worrying.”  

“Then you know how I feel.”  

He says it like a joke—mirthful—a tone that’s both strange and welcome in him.  

You roll your eyes halfheartedly. “You don’t need to worry. I’m fine.”  

“I will stop worrying when you’re awake,” he says. “Until then, I will watch over you.”  

A slight shiver runs down your spine. Morpheus' entire focus on you always makes you a little weak, but hearing him say those words? They almost send your knees buckling.  

“I don’t understand. Why have you been so insistent about this?”  

Something seems to settle in his eyes, his head tipping closer.  

“When you were writhing in pain—screaming—something came over me that hasn’t in a long while.”  

You tilt your head, waiting.  

“Fear.”  

“What?” you whisper.  

The back of his fingers grazes your cheek, lingering, caressing.  

“I feared I would lose you.” He’s searching you, analyzing every twitch and passing emotion.  

“Morpheus,” you start, “what are you saying?”  

The corner of his lips lift briefly.  

“You’ve become important to me,” he breathes. “My prophetess.”  

His lips are so close to yours. A moment more, and they’d touch. But as much as you want this, you stop him.  

“I don’t want our first kiss to be when I’m dreaming,” you say. “I want it to feel real because…you’ve become important to me, too.”  

Softly, he rests his forehead against yours.  

“I will wait as long as I must. Knowing you feel the same is enough.”  

—  

Your dizziness has been nonexistent these past couple of weeks. You’ve been able to help Lucienne in the library much more. However, this morning, if you could even call it that in the Dreaming—it’s like you’ve been getting hit from all sides.  

A breeze on your cheek while you were indoors.  

A shimmering red when you paged through a book.  

And whispered words of “regret this” and mumblings you couldn’t decipher.  

But this is your strongest one yet.  

It’s not images or scents, not even a noise, but an expansive, all-encompassing feeling blooming within your chest. You swear you’ll burst when Lucienne sees you steadying yourself against a table.  

She says your name. “Are you alright?”  

The feeling keeps getting bigger and bigger, and then Lucienne seems so far away, then the entire library. And you realize it’s time.  

“I think…I think I’m waking up.”  

A moment after you spoke, it feels like you're falling backward.  

Your eyes open with a quick inhale, and you look around.  

You’re in a bed, and everything feels so much more tangible. There are soft sheets, a comforting breeze from the open window, and that unmistakable feeling of something new beginning.  

You slowly rise, but where you thought there would be soreness, none comes.  

You've healed.  

You laugh in disbelief, running out of the room and to the one person you need to see.  

He’s creating dreams, something you’d usually take a moment to marvel at, but you can’t seem to give a damn.  

He glances over his shoulder, lips ticking up when he sees you.  

He’s about to speak. Then, his eyebrows twitch downward when you don’t stop walking, and you barely contain your smile before you kiss him.  

It takes him no more than a moment to grip your waist and pull you closer. To feel him like this instead of those phantom pressures, it's indescribable.   

You reluctantly retreat, and he stares at you with this kind of awe, tracing the back of his knuckles down your cheek, his features brighter than you’ve ever seen.   

“How are you feeling?” he asks.   

You take a moment before answering. “I’m okay. Everything feels…stronger now.” You give him a small smile. “Real.”  

“Not many have visited the Dreaming as you are,” he says. “If you’re overwhelmed, please tell me.”  

You shake your head fondly. “Not overwhelmed, just…happy.”  

“I am glad.”  

Your hands rest on his chest as you stare at him, too thrilled to care that maybe you should say something. But all you want to do is look at him—feel him now that you’re back in your body.  

Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to mind.  

He’s gripping your hips, the lightest of touches, yet it almost burns you in the best way possible. His thumb grazes one side, grabbing your attention. Like he knows you’re daydreaming. 

“I must give you something,” he says.  

He reaches within his coat, and in his palm is a gold band embedded with a ruby, a piece of Morpheus’ Dreamstone.  

“Stay with me,” he whispers, forehead pressed to yours. “Come and go as you please, but always return. To your home.” He pauses. “To me.”  

You stare at him, eyes wide with wonder and glistening.  

“Yes,” you breathe, beaming.  

He strokes your cheekbone with his thumb before cupping it fully and slotting his lips between yours.  

You giggle. “I have to say I really didn’t see this coming.”  

If Morpheus was one to roll his eyes, he would have.  

“Do not make me regret this.”  

The lit in his voice pulls a playful gasp from you.  

“It’s too late. You can’t change your mind,” you say, eyes alight.  

His warm smile sends gooseflesh up your arms.  

“Never,” he whispers.  

Destiny has strange ways of working, but after centuries of unanswered questions, you finally think you understand why he chose you.  

Maybe the eldest Endless has a softer spot for his younger brother than any of you realize.

Taglist: @sayumiht, @hatterripper31, @snowsatsu, @1950schick, @navs-bhat, @bookshelf-dust, @sapphireonline, @fictional-hooman, @steph-speaks, @ladyredstar1991, @secretdreamlandmentality, @ababycake, @morpheuss1mp, @boofy1998, @alice-the-nerd, @herfantasyworldd, @poemfreak306, @under-kitty

If you’d like to be added to any taglists, please comment or message me with the character you’d like updates on. 

[sapphires-and-silver-linings]

Tend The Light | One-Shot

For the first time since being dragged into this hellscape… you finally had something to look forward to.

A chance encounter with your fellow survivor, Alan Wake, leads you to make an offer he can't refuse.

Pairing: DBD!Alan Wake/F!Reader

Tags: Fluff, Romance, Pining, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Smut, Infidelity

Notes: Hey guys! I recently finished Alan Wake 2 and I play him almost exclusively these days on Dead by Daylight, so I've become a little obsessed with him lol. I like that he's sad and just some dude suffering indefinitely. I also like that he tries to be a good person but still makes self-serving decisions that affect others, and just how introspective he is (though he gets in his own way). It doesn't help that Ilkka Villi is both attractive and an incredible performer and his voice actor, Matthew Porretta, is just so pleasant to listen to. ANYWAY, this is the first of many brain worms I've been infected with and is currently the only Alan Wake fic I've finished. Time will tell if any others fall out of my head. I hope you enjoy it!

Masterlist Catalogue

--------------------

Do not take for granted daybreak’s warmth  For when the night comes, we must tend even to the light

The Entity’s Realm was not an easy place to get used to.

You had been here for a couple months, scrambling to escape the trials you were forced to endure with your many fellow survivors, failing far more often than not.

But you were surprised by your own resilience, quickly discovering your strengths and weaknesses and doing your best to help those around you.

Even so, to make it in this world was exhausting, the trials almost near-constant. You felt like you barely had time to breathe before you were being sent to the next one, having to brace yourself for yet another fight for survival.

Today, however, you were given the precious gift of rest, and you were desperate to make the most of it. 

You started off by lounging around in the office building you and the other survivors made a home out of.

It was amongst a cluster of city structures sharing a street, a seemingly endless fog surrounding the area, keeping you from wherever the killers might be stalking.

You were thankful for the separation outside of trials, but it did little to truly alleviate the horror of this new reality. Facing the deaths of your teammates and yourself everyday was a hell you couldn’t have come up with even in your worst nightmares.

You wanted to sleep, but you only felt tense.

Getting up, you decided to find something to occupy yourself with while you waited for the next trial to pull you in.

You chatted for a bit with some of the other survivors, though they were eventually called on by the Entity, leaving you alone for a short time with nothing but your thoughts to keep you company.

And dark thoughts they were—mostly a looping montage playing in your head of every death you had suffered in this place that just got longer and longer with each new one to occur.  

Now that was something you didn’t want to dwell on.

You decided it would be a good time to explore the area.

You idly wished you could run off and find a way out of this place, but there wasn’t much use in fleeing. No matter how far you wandered, the Entity would always have you in its clutches.

You moseyed about for a while, first in the building you resided in and then in the surrounding ones.

Every structure in the area was a corporate facility and they all seemed to look exactly the same, boring you quickly.

However, you reached the very top floor of the building across the street and realized there was a stairwell up to the roof; something the others didn’t possess.

Mildly enthralled by the revelation, you found yourself under a dark sky, night quickly falling overhead.

You took a step toward the half-wall that separated you from the sheer drop to the ground below but were startled when you realized someone else was already there.

Alan Wake, you recalled, thinking back to the brief introduction he gave you upon your arrival.

He seemed like a very kind man from what you could tell, but quite distant. Beyond helping in trials, he didn’t interact much with anyone except Saga and Rose, who had apparently joined him from their shared world.

He braced his elbows against the top of the wall, looking over his shoulder at you as you stood there awkwardly.

“Sorry, I didn’t expect anyone would be up here. Hope I’m not disturbing you,” you told him. 

“Not at all. I don't own the place, you can stay here if you like.” He offered you a small quirk of his lips before turning his gaze back out over the horizon. His tall, lean form was stiff and his expression contemplative. 

Taking his words at face value, you approached his right side, keeping a couple of feet between you to give him space.

You studied his profile from your peripheral vision, noting just how handsome he was, what with his long dark locks and big blue eyes, now slightly obscured by the furrow of his thick brows.

He seemed to glance your way and you were quick to avert your gaze, settling on the sky instead.

You were surprised to see a smattering of stars decorating the night, a lovely window into the vast darkness beyond this horrid place.

“It’s beautiful…” you whispered, more to yourself than anything.

Alan followed your line of sight to the heavens. “Yeah, it really is.”

“I do wonder, though,” you started, half-facing him as you spoke, “is it even real? Or is it just another one of the Entity’s tricks?”

“Hard to know what’s real here,” he stated, “but I like to imagine it is. Seeing the actual sky gives me the hope that there’s somewhere beyond this place.”

“And maybe even a better chance of escaping.”

“What do you mean by that?” he asked, titling his head as he looked at you fully.

“If the sky isn’t under the Entity’s control, then maybe there are… I don’t know… holes in its design? Maybe even weak spots to exploit if we get lucky.”

He let out a quiet huff. “I see you’ve heard some of the conspiracy theories going around.”

You laid your cheek against your palm, supported by your elbow atop the concrete wall, looking at him with an amused grin. “You a nonbeliever, then?”

“Anything’s possible, I guess. I just don’t think we should put all our eggs in one basket.”

“I don’t disagree, but as a working theory, it’s pretty solid. I mean, think of the fog. The Entity uses it to transport us not only around the Realm but from our worlds, right? There’s bound to be some wiggle room in between.”

He shook his head, chuckling lightly. It was a nice sound. “You make a compelling case, I admit. Were you a lawyer in your past life?”

You rolled your eyes at that. “No, no. Nothing so prestigious. What about you? You have an interesting career outside of this hellhole?”

He stared down at his hands, folded in front of him. “I was—or I am a writer. Did pretty well for myself before things fell apart. You know how it goes.”

You raised a brow. “Were you famous or something?”

He scratched his beard, looking almost diffident. “Uh, yeah, you could say that. But that was a long time ago. Saga and Rose are the only ones who really know that about me here. And, well, I guess now you do too.”

“Wow, I didn't realize I was in the presence of such a celebrity. How exciting.” Your voice was teasing, but you were being genuine, finding it quite enjoyable getting to know him.

“No pictures, please,” he joked, flashing you an easygoing smile. And what a nice one it was, the sight filling you with butterflies.

How had you never noticed just how attractive he was until now? You supposed survival was somewhat higher on your priority list up until this moment. He was quite a bit older than you as well, but that wasn’t much of a deterrent in your eyes.

You felt disappointed, however, when he rubbed his arm with his left hand and you caught the gleam of a golden wedding band on his finger.

Well, you could settle for friendship. It was the least you could hope for in a place like this, and you’d take what you could get.

You laughed airily at the quip before asking, “What genres did you write?”

“Horror and crime thrillers, mostly.”

“Impressive. Stories like that aren’t the first ones I usually reach for, but I definitely enjoy them.”

“Yeah? What’s your preference?”

You were a bit surprised by his curiosity, not expecting him to be as willing to socialize as you currently were. You wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, however.

“It’s a bit embarrassing, but I’m more of a romance enthusiast. Though I’d say poetry is my favorite kind of writing above anything. I dabble in it myself, actually,” you admitted sheepishly.

“A poet, huh?”

“I know, it’s pretty pretentious,” you said with a laugh.

“No, not at all,” he assured. “What do you usually write about?”

“Hm… a little bit of everything, I suppose. It’s honestly a great way to express some difficult emotions in an abstract way. And there’s a fun challenge in figuring out how to structure it and whether to make it rhyme or not.”

“Not my personal strong suit, but I respect it. You publish anything?”

You shook your head. “No. I always thought about it. Even compiled all my work into a manuscript, but I never had the guts to.”

“Afraid to put yourself out there?”

“Yeah, pretty much. Got a mixed bag of insecurities, I guess. Fear of rejection and imposter syndrome are the most notable. But I think the hardest part is knowing I’d be baring my soul to the world. That kind of vulnerability… It's scary.”  

He nodded. “I understand what you mean. Once you show your face to the masses, there’s no going back. When I first started out, I really wanted the fame, you know? But I realized too late just how overwhelming it all was. It felt like…” he paused, trying to find the words. “It felt like I was drowning in it.”

“I could only imagine,” you mused solemnly. “Do you still write, though? Even if there’s not much of an audience to share it with?”

“Guess I could. But no. It’s been months since I’ve tried. Since I ended up here, actually.”

“Same here. Hard to find time or focus on creating something when we’re all being stretched thin by these damn trials. Not exactly high on the priority list.”

He chuckled at that. “That’s definitely part of it.”

You fell into an unexpectedly comfortable silence after that, the two of you returning your gazes to the sky.

Your mind ran amok with questions you wanted to ask him, hoping to continue this pleasant exchange a little longer.

Then an idea popped into your head.

“I have a… proposal for you,” you said, facing him again.

“And what’s that?”

“What if, over the next—oh, I don’t know—few days or so, we both write something brief that we can trade when we see each other again? How does that sound, Mr. Wake?”

“You can just call me Alan,” he replied with an amused laugh before considering your offer. “Something brief, you said? Would a short story work?”

“Yeah, of course. Write whatever’s most comfortable for you. Maybe no more than a couple pages? I’ll just whip up a poem on my end if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all. I like the idea. It sounds—”

“Fun?” you interjected with an impish smirk.

“Yeah, it sounds fun.” The smile he returned with was relaxed, a far cry from the clearly troubled man you normally witnessed him as.

For the first time since being dragged into this hellscape… you finally had something to look forward to.

***

The day arrived when you had a moment of respite, yet again visiting the roof of the building across the street.

You were buzzing with nerves, the realization that an actually published and well known author (in his world at least) would be reading your work hitting you like a brick to the face.

But you felt good about what you had written, spending every moment of the last few days not in trials scribbling furiously in the notepad you had found.

Fortunate to be surrounded by office supplies, you mused.

The poem itself was about your time here in the Realm, and all the pent up emotions that came with it. You ended it on a hopeful note, however, both for your own sanity and the fear that if you went too off the rails with what you felt, you’d somehow scare Alan off.

You waited for quite some time for him to meet you, the sky darkening like it had the night you first spent in his company.

You were suddenly worried that maybe he forgot, or that he never intended to participate in this silly little exchange you came up with from the start.

Just as you were about to call it quits, disappointed thoroughly, the door to the stairwell burst open, Alan huffing as he jogged over to you.

“Sorry I took so long, I just got caught up in editing,” he told you breathlessly, leaning against the roof wall as he held out a notebook in his hand.

You were both relieved and giddy that he not only showed up, but clearly rushed over to meet with you. You had to hide your bashful smile as he stood to his full height, looking sheepishly down at you.

“It’s no problem. Just thought you got cold feet on me for a minute there.”

“No, nothing like that. I was pretty curious to see what you’d bring,” he replied earnestly. “And I wanted to know your thoughts on my own work.”

He seemed excited, and that had a warm feeling bloom within your chest.

“It might be a little too soon to think so highly of my opinion, Alan,” you said with a laugh.

“Then let’s not waste any time.”

He offered you his notebook, and you gave him your notepad in return.

“One thing I’d like to ask of you,” you started, feeling shy now that your hard work was in his hands.

“Sure, anything.”

“Could we check these out… later? The idea of you reading my poem right in front of me is a bit embarrassing.”

He chuckled at that. “I won’t judge you harshly, I promise. But yeah, we can just meet up again tomorrow if you’d prefer that.”

You let out a relieved sigh. “Thanks, I appreciate it. And I’m quite excited to dig into whatever you made. I’m sure it's great.”

“What did you just say? It’s a little too soon to think so highly of me?”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Hey, you’re the famous one out of the two of us. Not exactly the biggest gamble there.”

“You never know. Plenty of shitty authors have a big following. The typical reader isn’t looking for a masterpiece.” He shrugged. 

“And neither am I,” you countered, giggling.

“Touché.”

Despite agreeing to meet again to talk about your prospective pieces, the two of you stayed on the roof for a couple hours longer, idle chatter turning a bit deeper as time waned on.

You shared the highlights of your life before, describing the night you were taken and what you had left behind. Who you missed more than anything.

Eventually, he told you an abridged version of his own life. Your heart broke for him as he explained he spent the last thirteen years—going on fourteen now—trapped in what he called the “Dark Place”, away from his wife.

He tried desperately to escape and get back to her, but he only managed to swap one prison for another. A worse one, which was something he didn’t think was possible.

“So many years I could have spent with her… wasted.” He sighed heavily, and you could feel the weight of his experience just by looking into his tired eyes.

You ended the evening on that somber note, promising to meet again the next night.

As soon as you were alone, you opened his notebook, hunkered down in the corner of the conference room you made your home, eyes greedily taking in every line.

It was only three pages long and his handwriting was a bit messy, but it was really good.

It seemed to be a horror retelling of The Scorpion and The Frog parable, and the way he crafted ambiance in every line—not wasting a single word to express exactly what he wanted to—was masterful. How he could make something so subtle yet so succinct was a mystery to you.

You felt both jealous of his ability and humbled by it. You almost regretted giving him your poem, believing it couldn’t possibly live up to his standards, but that would have meant you’d never have gotten to experience such a gem.

Your one critique, however, was this clear bitterness that seemed to permeate every sentence. You didn’t expect a happy little fairy tale from the man, of course, but you would have loved to see more range in the expression of the characters, at least.

You could barely sleep, not only going over what you wanted to discuss with Alan about his story, but battling with the abject fear of what he’d have to say about your poem.

You were even a little distracted the entirety of the following day, fumbling a bit more than usual in your trials and probably pissing off a few of your fellow survivors.

But hey, everyone has had an off day at some point.

You could barely contain your nerves when the time finally came to regroup with Alan, rushing over to what was now officially your meeting spot.

He was already waiting for you when you arrived, leaning his lower back against the wall of the roof, facing the stairwell door. His eyes jumped up from your notepad in his hands as you approached, a warm smile on his face.

“Glad you made it,” he greeted, beckoning you over. “So… what’d you think?”

Amused by his eagerness, you went ahead and jumped right into it.

You explained to him your thoughts on his piece, though you tried not to let slip the true degree of your zeal for his talent while praising his strengths or sound too harsh while offering your criticism.

He looked thoughtful at your words, simply nodding as you finished your verbal annotation. “I’m glad to know you enjoyed it, and I appreciate the honesty.”

“Of course,” you replied. “I doubt my opinion holds too much weight, but I figured I’d offer it anyway.”

“Well, now that I’ve read your poem, I think I get to decide just how much weight your opinion holds,” he told you, a brow raised.

Your gut lurched a bit at that, apprehensive of just what he’d have to say about your talent as a writer. “And what did you decide?”

He stroked his beard thoughtfully, contemplating his words. “I think you have a knack for setting the tone you want to express, and your descriptions are so vivid, they’re almost tangible. I also think the way you’re able to show your emotions through the text is as impressive as it is relatable.”

Your eyes widened at his praise, completely shocked that he enjoyed your work so much. You sensed the pit of anxiety that once formed in your belly morph into butterflies. An elatedness coursed through you, making you feel like a teenager with a crush on her teacher, basking in his approval.

“My only real gripe is that you handhold your audience a bit. There seems to be a tendency to over explain yourself. I also think you could benefit from a little more subtlety,” he added, grounding you back in reality for a moment. “But I’m no publisher or poet, so take that with a grain of salt.”

You nodded, storing his words for later, your mind flitting over all the ways you could have changed your poem to make it better. “Thank you, that’s great to know. You’re the first person I’ve ever shown my writing to, so it’s nice to get an opinion outside of my own head.” 

“I’m the first? Really?” He seemed surprised by your confession, brows furrowing.

You nodded, feeling timorous yet again. “You know, beyond assignments from my school days. I’ve kept my poetry under lock and key for the most part.”

“And you were willing to show me?”

You chuckled lightly. “Well, you’re a famous writer, who better to get an appraisal from? Not to mention, I thought maybe this could help me get closer to you.”

You weren’t sure, but you could swear you saw a blush color his cheeks.

His tone as he replied was self-effacing, however, “Not sure why you would want to. I’m just a lonely old man, after all.”

You rolled your eyes, feeling a pang in your chest at his statement. “You’re not old, Alan.”

His lips quirked up into a small grin. “Well, I’m certainly getting there.”

Shaking your head, you looked down at the notebook in your hand, ready to return it to its owner. “Regardless, I was wondering if you still want to do this. Keep writing for each other, I mean.”

You practically prayed to whatever out there might listen that he would agree, not wanting to lose this friendship building between you. You never thought you’d find someone you were so intellectually compatible with in a place like this—or ever.

A selfish part of you wanted to see if this could bloom into something more despite him making it clear he still loved and missed his wife. You didn’t think you could stand giving up these late night rendezvous, talking into the small hours of the morning and getting to see the warmth of his smile and hear the sound of his deep laugh.

If you could swim in those bright blue eyes, you would have already dove in.

What had gotten into you?

You braced for his answer, preparing for the deep-seated disappointment that would inevitably follow in the wake of his rejection.

“Yeah, I’d like that very much,” he answered instead. “I have to admit, writing for an audience again after a decade of only doing it for survival has been… nice. Sure, there’s freedom in it no longer being a necessity, but I’d lost all motivation until you came along. This last week has been the most normal I’ve felt in years. Though… it might be selfish of me to want to hold on to it.”

Your heart raced in your chest, relief and an overwhelming joy filling you whole.

“I’m happy I could do that for you,” you told him earnestly. “And it’s not selfish at all. We should hold on to the few good things we have. Nothing wrong with that.”

He offered you a fond smile at your words, and you knew in that moment you would give anything to keep it gracing his handsome face.

“In any case,” he replied, voice soft, “thank you.”

“Maybe I should be thanking you for being so willing to play along with my silly game. I don’t think anyone else would have given me the time of day.”

He chuckled, placing his large hand on your shoulder and squeezing it gently, to your surprise. “Well, I look forward to what comes next.”

The contact was warm and sent you reeling despite how little it was.

The two of you then exchanged your notebooks once more and he retired for the night, leaving you to your own devices, your gaze following his tall form as he retreated to the stairwell.

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding and looked back up at the sky, stars still twinkling in the night.

How strange it was that those constellations would remain painted in the heavens during your entire existence, and yet your life was just a stream of ceaseless change.

Like a tide. Like the wind. Impermanent. 

You knew what you would write next.

***

You and Alan continued your little exchange over the next several weeks, the two of you growing closer with every evening spent in each other’s company. His gentle guidance in helping you hone your craft was appreciated greatly, and you could tell your work was improving.

Although you didn’t spend much time together outside of your allotted meetings, the two of you would still chat in passing, and it appeared like you were the first person Alan tried to help when you wound up together in trials.

You were happy that you had finally found a good friend here. 

However, your crush on the man was forming into full-blown feelings, which were getting harder and harder to ignore.

Sometimes, in the quiet, intimate moments shared between you, you considered telling him the truth. 

But one glance at his wedding ring had you biting your tongue—yearning filling your days more than fear, it would seem.

You savored every conversation made under starlight, keeping all the easy banter and every dark confession locked away inside of you.

The fact he was willing to confide in you, that he thought so highly of you and your opinion… you would never take it for granted. 

Tonight, you brought with you a tin of stale butter cookies you discovered while scrounging in the area, wanting to indulge in this little treat with Alan. He deserved this small comfort, after all.

“Hey, you,” he greeted affably as you came through the stairwell entrance, patting the spot beside him on the ground where he had placed a quilt he found a couple weeks prior. “What do you have there?”

You sat with crossed legs next to him, face heating up just by being in his proximity.

You opened the tin and held it out to him. “Brought a snack for us to split.”

His eyes seemed to soften at your words, grabbing a cookie from the top. “Thank you. I appreciate you willing to share your treats with me. God knows they’re far and few between.”

You shrug, your gaze unable to meet his, feeling suddenly shy.

“Least I could do for you taking pity on me,” you tease.

“And here I thought you were taking pity on me,” he replied with a chuckle, taking a bite out of the stale confection. He smiled at the taste, sighing in contentment as he leaned back on his hands, his legs stretched outward.

His reaction made you happy, warmth settling in your belly along with the treat. You glanced over at him, seeing a crumb stuck in his beard.

You giggled, leaning over to pluck it from his hair.

“Saving some for later?” you joke as you flick it into the distance.

He looked abashed as he laughed awkwardly.

“I promise I’m not usually this much of a slob,” he assured. “Maybe I should just shave the damn thing.”

“No!” you said far too quickly, your eyes widening at your own outburst.

“No?” he questioned, quirking a brow.

“Sorry, it’s just that I like the beard. Call me a sucker for facial hair,” you admitted sheepishly.

“Is that so?” He was clearly amused, making you let out a puff of air.

“What can I say? I like the rugged look.”

“What else are you a sucker for?” His voice dipped low, the rasp of it sending a tingle down your spine.

Was he messing with you? You couldn’t be sure, but the butterflies in your belly made it hard to think clearly, especially with the way he leveled his gaze on you.

“Pretty eyes,” you let slip. His surprise at your words emboldened you to elaborate, “You definitely have a pair of those. Like looking at a clear blue sky.”

He huffed out a laugh, the corners of those lovely eyes creasing as he grinned at you.

“Well, I think your best trait is your smile,” he told you. “You could light up a room with it.”

Your breath hitched at the compliment as he leaned closer.

“Speaking of, you have something…” he paused as he placed his large hand against your face, dragging his thumb delicately across the side of your mouth to clean it, “here.”

Your heart hammered in your chest at the contact, the man never having touched you like this before. The air suddenly shifted, thick with an unexpected tension.

Breathlessly, you tried to alleviate it by joking, “Guess you’re not the only slob here.”

His thumb then began to stroke across your bottom lip almost experimentally, rendering you frozen in place.

“Seems we have a lot in common,” he replied, voice distant as he seemed to contemplate something.

You could see the way his eyes drifted between your own and your lips, the silence between you heavy with what might come next.

As if possessed, Alan rushed forward, moving his thumb from your mouth just as he kissed you.

It was firm but gentle, and there was an evident desperation clawing up and out of both of you as you finally jumped into action, returning the kiss with equal fervor.

This was all you had wanted since that very first night under the stars with him, unable to stop the whimper that escaped you as his tongue invaded your mouth.

Both of his hands now cupped the sides of your face, and you gripped the lapels of his suit jacket for purchase, losing yourself in the moment completely.

Suddenly, Alan ripped away from you, scrambling backwards as if struck.

Your brows furrowed in confusion and concern, seeing the way he breathed hard and his eyes widened.

Before you could speak, Alan jumped to his feet, holding the back of his head with his hands, evidently distressed.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he muttered, refusing to look at you before he turned, already retreating to the stairwell. “I—I’m sorry. Goodnight.”

“Alan!” you called, dismayed by the way he was hurrying off.

But he was already gone, leaving you alone with nothing but the sky for company.

Tears pricked your eyes as you shuddered, the warmth from his touch now replaced with the chill of the night creeping back in.

You couldn’t stop the way your cries echoed in the dark.

***

A week passed, and every night you went back up to the roof, waiting.

He never came.

He avoided you in common areas and even in trials now, refusing to look you in the eye or speak to you.

Another week, and your visits to the roof dwindled to every couple of days.

Two more, and you stopped going altogether.

You had felt heartache before, but this… this was different. The connection you had, the way your minds and bodies seemed to move in sync when you were together—even outside of the romantic longing you held for him, you had never experienced anything like it.  

Losing this nameless thing you shared with Alan felt like a void sitting inside of your chest, slowly eating away at you until eventually there would be nothing left.

And the kiss.

Even a month after your separation, you still couldn’t get the sensation of his lips off your mind.

You felt stupid for holding on so tightly to something that never should have happened in the first place.

Unable to keep it in any longer, you decided to write.

After finishing the poem, agonizing over every detail, you went up to the roof one last time. You set the folded piece of paper on the quilt that was still laid out on the concrete, placing a heavy bookend you found on top of it to prevent it from blowing away.

If he had washed his hands of you without so much as giving you a chance to speak to him, you could at least tell him through pen on paper.

He was a writer, after all. That might be the only thing to make him understand.

The next day, though, you felt a sudden embarrassment for giving him even the slightest indication of how you felt, believing that he might not see the page if he stopped visiting the rooftop to avoid you anyway.

Worse still was the thought of another survivor finding the poem, which was addressed to Alan and had your name written at the bottom.

When you had the chance to get away from the trials for the day, you snuck back up to the roof, desperate to grab the piece of paper you had left. You wanted to try your best to go back to the way things were before you ever stumbled upon Alan in the first place.

Your heart halted in your chest, however, when you stepped through the stairwell door.

Alan was there, leaning against the edge of the roof wall, staring out at the darkening horizon just like the night that started it all.

You were frozen in place, simply standing there, questioning if you were imagining things for a second.

Before you could pull yourself together and spin on your heels to escape, Alan had turned around, the soft call of your name from his lips making you pause.

Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth, unable to even speak as he beckoned you over to him.

“Please…” he said, voice tight. “We need to talk.”

Hesitantly, you nodded, joining him by the wall. It was silent for a long while and he seemed to be avoiding your gaze. You wondered what he could be thinking.

Slowly, he pulled a folded piece of paper from his breast pocket and your stomach dropped when you realized what it was.

“I read it,” he confirmed, “and it got me thinking.”

You felt a surge of panic at that, terrified that he was about to rub salt in the wound—tell you how little you truly meant to him in the weeks you spent in each other’s company.

“I shouldn’t have left it here, I’m sorry,” you said quickly, finally able to get words out of your mouth.

“No, no, don’t be,” he urged, glancing down at you, “I’m glad you did.” His eyes moved away from you again, looking pained as he quietly added, “I’m sorry for how I handled things. It wasn’t fair to you.” 

An apology. It wasn’t something you really thought would be said in this moment, but you could tell it was genuine—if the anguished, deep frown marring his face was any indication. 

“I appreciate it,” you told him. “And for what it’s worth… I’m sorry too.”

His eyes were wide when they met yours. “What are you apologizing for? You’ve done nothing wrong.”

You swallowed thickly, dropping your head. “For wanting you even when I knew I shouldn’t.”

Glancing up at him from your peripherals, your shame apparent, you could see the way his expression softened. 

“There’s something I want to tell you,” he started, “and I would like for you to just listen.”

You turned to him and simply nodded, watching as he sighed deeply and placed his elbows atop the wall, staring at his hands in contemplation.

“All these years, wandering in the dark… the only thing that pushed me through was the thought of Alice and getting home to her.” As he spoke, you felt your heart sink into your gut, both in guilt and the renewed heartbreak of believing he was about to end things between you for good.

Still, you remained quiet.

He continued, “Despite the hopelessness of it all, I felt some sense of control in the Dark Place. My writing could affect reality, and that meant that if I just wrote the right thing, I could get out. But here… it’s different. The rules are different. My writing has no effect, and when I first arrived… I just panicked.”

He sighed again, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms as if to wipe away the vision of all the years he believed had been wasted. “The change—it made me feel like I was losing the very last of my hope. That I’d never make it out of this alive.” He paused to look down at you, that blue gaze reflecting his misery like the surface of water. “If I lose it, this stubborn thing that’s pushed me through thirteen years of madness and terror and the drowning loneliness… what would I have left?”

You could feel tears welling in your eyes, his sadness palpable.

He let out a shaky breath and a soft chuckle, a hint of a smile gracing his lips. “Meeting you, spending time with you—it reminded me of better days. It reminded me that there is still hope, still a flicker of light in all this darkness. I think, in many ways, you may have saved me from throwing in the towel completely. It was hard not to be drawn to you because of that.”

Your lips parted in surprise at his words, the warmth of them settling upon you like a blanket. 

It may not change the outcome of this night—he may still choose to keep his distance—but now you knew the truth.

You meant something to him too.

“But,” he started, “giving in to the temptation of pursuing you… It was an admission that being trapped here might be a more long term situation than I wanted to believe. The kiss—of course it felt like betraying Alice, but what it meant was somehow worse. It felt like I was giving up on her. On getting back to her.”

His brows furrowed. “After a few years, I began to wonder, you know? Wonder if she had moved on in my absence. She had every reason to believe I was dead, and each passing year must have been like tossing more dirt on my empty grave.”

You regarded him morosely, watching the rise and fall of his chest as he took another shuddering breath, running his hand through his hair the way he always did when he was particularly distressed.

You wanted to reach out and touch him, but you refrained. 

“If she’s moved on, I understand. The thought stings, but I would forgive her. I’ve made my peace with that.” A beat. Another breath. “Since meeting you, though, I began to wonder about something else.”

His eyes were swirling with the shadows of his grief, like souls caught in the river Styx. Perhaps you were caught now too.

“If she knew of my circumstances… would she give me that same grace?” he asked. “And even if she did, could I forgive myself for letting her go?”

He fell silent then, gaze cast down as you took in every word.

The heaviness of his confession weighed on him like gravity, and you wanted to help him carry the burden of it.

His feelings for you were the cause of this, after all. You couldn’t help but consider yourself partially responsible, even if he adamantly denied it.

“Regret…” you began, choosing your words carefully, “is a starved thing. You don’t have to let it eat at you.”

He looked at you quizzically at that, the slight tilt of his head the only indication you needed to continue, “Thirteen years is a long time, Alan. I know how tired you are. You’re sick of fighting.”

“Are you saying I should just give up on ever going home, then?” he questioned, an edge to his tone.

“No,” you replied, shaking your head, “don’t give up. None of us should.”

“Then… what are you saying?”

“Let yourself have this.” Your voice was low, gentle. “You wonder if Alice would give you the grace to accept comfort where it can be found, but why don’t you give yourself that grace? You know better than anyone how hard it is to come by in a place like this.”

He let out a puff of laughter, though there was no real humor in it. “I just wish I knew what she’d think. If she’d hate me for it.”

“I know I’m biased in this situation,” you told him honestly, “but I think Alice would understand.”

His lips parted, momentarily stunned, before he moved closer to you, his eyes full of hope as he placed his hand tentatively against your cheek. His palm was warm, a welcome feeling in the cold air.

“As much as I want this,” he whispered, “I don’t know how much of myself I can give to you. Alice… I am wholly hers.”

Your eyes fluttered closed, a pang of disappointment and jealousy carving into your heart knowing that she would always come first. Knowing that if the two of you ever did escape, he would be going home to her and not with you.

You released a breath, letting the feeling wash over and off of you. There was no use in worrying about the future now. You had to live in this moment. It was all that mattered.

“I know,” you replied. “I accept that. Whatever this is, it doesn’t need a name—it doesn’t need to be a promise. I’m just here for you if you need me.”

The tension between you was thick, the yearning in his expression making your heart race.

“Okay,” he murmured, yet made no move to close the remaining distance between you.

“Alan,” you coaxed, bringing your hands up to cup his face, “would you feel better if I kissed you first?”

He closed his eyes, swallowing thickly as he moved to grip your wrists. He kept your hands firmly planted against his cheeks, looking as if he was basking in your warmth.

“I’m not sure,” he replied candidly, though his voice was soft, “but we can try.”

You smiled at that, pulling him down as you stood on your toes to make up the difference, your lips pressing into his. It was chaste and sweet, more of an invitation than anything.

When you pulled back to gauge his reaction, his eyes were opened, half-lidded, and dark.

Suddenly, his hands moved from around your wrists to tangle into your hair, pulling you back to him and kissing you deeply. It was as passionate and desperate as that very first one, but this time there was no holding back.

His tongue pressed against the seam of your mouth and you easily opened up to him, craving nothing more than to devour and be devoured.

If regret was starved, then what did that make want? Perhaps it was a forest fire or a black hole—all-consuming. 

Before you could react, Alan grabbed you by the hips, pulling you up with surprising strength to seat you on the wall.

Out of instinct, you wrapped your legs around his waist and clutched his shoulders, separating your lips from his. A gasp of fear left your mouth at the thought of dropping down, down, down to the concrete far below.

His wide palms braced against your spine, holding you close to him as he looked at you, a playful smirk gracing his handsome face.

He leaned forward to kiss the line of your jaw, the hair of his beard tickling your skin, before he whispered, “I won’t let you fall. Trust me?”

The deep rasp of his voice was your siren’s call, your body and mind helpless to the way they were drawn to this man standing between your legs.

“Yes, I trust you, Alan. Always,” you replied, voice small but undeniable in its conviction.

He let out a wavering sigh into the flesh of your throat, your words having had an effect on him.

He then withdrew from the crook of your neck to smash his mouth against yours once again as you ran your fingers through his dark, thick locks, combing them gently out of his face. You shivered as his hand crawled underneath your shirt, callused skin scraping deliciously against your side.

You pulled away for air, your lips swollen from the barrage of forceful kisses.

“Alan,” you breathed, his eyes opening at the sound, “how far are we taking this?”

He paused, pressing a kiss against your cheek as he considered his response.

“It’s been a long time since… well, you know,” he said, letting out a low chuckle. “But I want this—want you—if you’ll have me.”

The words emboldened you and you tugged his face forward to give him another searing kiss on the mouth, desire coursing through your veins like your own blood.

“Need you,” you murmured against his lips, what little self-control you might have had draining out of you as though a stopper had been prised from the inside.

His breath hitched at your reply, and he gave you a final, hard kiss before pulling away.

“Not here,” he said, voice like smoke. 

He helped you back onto solid ground then, grabbing your hand to lead you to the quilt stretched across the floor.

Between sweltering crashes of your lips, the two of you kicked off your shoes and you laid atop the blanket, which was folded over and thick enough to cushion you a bit from the harsh, cold concrete under you.

Alan dropped to his knees to follow you down, crawling over your supine form.

You reached out to touch him, yanking off his jacket and tie. Afterward, you unbuttoned the dark blue shirt beneath, relishing in every inch of his toned chest and abdomen exposed to you.

Alan let out a guttural noise as he pulled off your top and released your breasts from your bra, cupping them in his hands. His fingers were firm as they pressed into the flesh there before rolling your nipples between them, eliciting a wanton sigh from you.

“My little poet,” he spoke on the crest of an exhale, bringing his lips down to your chest to kiss and nip at the skin there, “you are so fucking beautiful.”

Despite the desperation vibrating through your every cell, it was clear that Alan wanted to take his time; wanted to soak in the feel of you and the sounds of pleasure he pulled from your mouth. He wanted to savor this moment. Savor you.

His hands and his lips traveled down your body until his fingers slid into the sides of your jeans, peeling them slowly off of your legs along with your panties. His tongue darted out to wet his lips as he stared at your exposed heat, dark blue eyes filled with hunger.

He fell back over you, supporting himself on one arm as his hand lowered slowly, watching your face as he grazed his fingertips along your slit.

You were already breathless from the intensity of his gaze upon you, the small gasp you let out at his touch making you nearly dizzy.

He teased you for a while, biting his bottom lip as he took in your every noise and expression, the sight of his teeth pressing into the skin the most erotic thing you thought you had ever seen.

“Please…” you mewled pathetically, needing him to take this that little bit further before you went mad.

He smirked down at you, lowering his head to rasp into your ear, “Please what?”

You let out a huff, equal parts a laugh and a frustrated sigh.

“Please give me more,” you replied, hoping your words satisfied him.

He grinned at your begging before kissing you hard, pulling back just as he sunk his fingers into your already soaked entrance. You cried out at the intrusion, the delicious stretch of his two digits making you paw at the quilt beneath you for purchase.

“That’s it…” he cooed, tone both teasing and fervid, “I want to hear how good I make you feel.” 

A clever stroke of his thumb made you keen loudly, back arching. Your eyes screwed shut, feeling yourself getting nearer to the edge with every thrust of his fingers.

“I’m close, Alan,” you whined, your body beginning to tremble.

To your dismay, however, Alan stopped completely, pulling his fingers from your heat.

You let out a complaintive groan and Alan chuckled, capturing your lips in a deep kiss.

“Not yet,” he said lowly, pulling back, “I want to be inside you when you come.” 

Your breath hitched as he licked his fingers clean of you, clearly enjoying the taste, before sitting on his haunches.

He reached down, undoing the belt on his slacks, slowly unzipping them and tugging them down far enough to release his hardened length. You bit your lip at the sight of it, appreciating its size. 

Alan moved to hover over you again, tracing his nose along your cheek as he lined himself up with your entrance. Just the feel of him pressing against you had you swallowing in an anticipation so blazing, it made your skin flush.

“You still want this?” he asked in a whisper. “Because there’s no going back.”

You grabbed the sides of his face, making him look at you, “Do you?”

You could see the storm in his eyes—cyclones of azure blue—so disquieted, yet so full of hunger.

“Yes,” he murmured, searching your visage as if to find your answer there.

“Then I do too.”

A ghost of a smile danced across his features before he was kissing you again, almost bruising in its vigor.

He pulled away just enough to watch your face when he pushed forward, slowly sinking into you with a shaky exhale. You gasped at the stretch of him and your head lurched up slightly, your open mouth breathing heavily into his.

He closed his eyes as he buried himself to the hilt, opening them only to stare into yours and utter, “God, you feel incredible.”

You weren’t his and he wasn’t yours, but you joined together like you were made for him. Like a final puzzle piece slotting into place. You had never felt so whole. 

You knew then you would be ruined for anyone else.

He caged your head between his arms and your hands dropped from his face to the back of his neck, just as he drew his hips back and thrusted forward again; slow and deliberate.

He kept this measured pace, his length dragging against your inner walls in a rhythm both excruciating and exquisite.

If it wasn’t him, you would have begged for it to be faster and harder by now.

But you knew how precious your time could be—knew that this might be your last and only moment in his embrace—and you wanted to enjoy it.

Instead of pleading, the sounds you let escape from your mouth were just sighs of pleasure, your fingers grasping at his skin and hair in desperation.

He hitched your legs over his waist, lowering his body to press against yours, his hands sliding under your head to cradle it like it was porcelain. His nose brushed against yours, his gaze so intense, you could feel it burning through you.

“What have you done to me?” he rasped, his hot breath billowing across your flesh.

You let out an airy laugh at his words, replying, “Nothing you haven’t done to me.”

He smoothed a thumb against your cheek, his lips quirking into a small smile that you could feel when he kissed you again.

He began to quicken his pace, his thrusts firmer—deeper. You moaned into his mouth and he only grunted in response, slipping a hand between you to rub circles against the most sensitive part of you.

“Alan,” you breathed, digging your fingers further into his hair, panting between every heated kiss, “I’m so close.”

He drew back, voice rough like sandpaper as he demanded, “Then come for me, sweetheart.”

He held you nearer and your eyes screwed shut, overwhelmed by all of the sensations, your nerves ablaze.

“Look at me.” The command was spoken softly, but it left no room for argument, his free hand sliding down to grip your jaw.

When you peered back up at him, the sight of his intense gaze—blue irises swallowed by the black of his pupils—left you gasping for air.

It took only a couple more strokes of his length before you were coming undone beneath him. Your back arched and your eyes watered, both from forcing them to stay open for him and the ferocity of your climax.

You cried out his name as he worked you through your high, growling, “That’s it, sweet girl.”

His grip tightened on you, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he drew closer and closer to the edge.

He captured your lips in a fervent kiss, a low moan spilling into your mouth as he came, warmth flooding into your depths.

He melted into you then, letting out a shaky exhale as he pressed his sweaty forehead against your own while the two of you caught your breath.

His hands caressed your hair, and he let out a contented sigh before drawing back to look at you.

“Are you okay?” he asked gently, a softness in his gaze that still managed to make your heart skip a beat, even after everything.

He told you he wouldn’t let you fall, but didn’t he know? You already had.

“I’m more than okay,” you replied, tone wispy and teasing.

He grinned down at you, eyes crinkling at the edges, before kissing you again. This one was different, though; far more languid than the fever that had just consumed you both. So tender, it left you aching for more when he finally pulled away.

Carefully, he removed himself from you, the two of you hissing at the feeling. He zipped his slacks back up before laying beside you, tugging you into his arms.

“Here, let me keep you warm,” he said, feeling you shiver now that you were exposed to the chill of the night air.

You let out a quiet giggle as you rested your head upon his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat beginning to slow to a steady, soothing rhythm.

Every sensation you felt in this moment was a reminder that this was real; that you weren’t alone anymore.

A comfortable silence fell over you, simply breathing together in the dark.

In a small voice, you couldn’t help but wonder aloud, “What comes next?”

“I don’t know,” he responded honestly. You felt him kiss your hair, arms squeezing just a little tighter around you. “But what I do know is that I want you here with me. Whether that’s just tonight… or the rest of eternity spent in this hell.”

You ran a hand across his bare chest, smiling while you turned to look up at the sky above.

The stars seemed closer somehow, as if you could reach out and pluck one from the heavens like a diamond from its velvet display.

You faced Alan once more, propping yourself on your elbow, “Then I suppose we should make every second count.”

He reached out to graze his knuckles against your cheek, a flood of emotions filling you both as you looked at each other.

He tugged you toward him, kissing you, all the things he couldn’t seem to say bleeding into every movement of his lips.

He finally drew back, eyes pulling you in like whirlpools as he murmured, “I intend to.”

When you fell into him once more, bodies molding together, you failed to notice that the piece of paper folded neatly and tucked into Alan’s jacket pocket had come loose, sitting upon the concrete.

A breeze swept across the roof and caught it, blowing it off into the night.

It wouldn’t be until the next morning that either of you would realize it was gone, a minor disappointment shrugged off and soon forgotten as you kissed under sunlight for the first time.

If anyone were to come across the page, however, curious as they pulled it open, the words that might greet them would read:

I was a shadow in the times before But when I met you, something sparked A flicker became a burst, became a wildfire And the breadth between us contained entire galaxies  An entanglement of a million stars heating up inside of me When our lips met, every sun erupted into a supernova And I knew what it meant to feel warmth  Your absence is a black hole  The cold it leaves in its wake settles bone deep Your faraway gaze betrays the ghost that now takes your shape And your pain is a sacrificial dagger Thirsting for a little more of your blood I can share in your darkness if you let me Harden every molten spill that lingers between us Let our dreams be dreams in such a nightmare But know this: If ever you turn to me, the glittering constellations in your eyes renewed I will always be here, Tending to the very light you once gave me  I will remind you of what it means to feel warmth

--------------------

Masterlist Catalogue

[manawari]

SOLO LEVELING WEEK

Day 6: Soulmates / Cup of Reincarnation

Based on my recent Soulmate AU.

Her death weighed his heart deeper than the heaviest rock. Everyday, Jin-woo got reminded of her lifeless body in the ground, shattering his soul into tiny pieces. He thought that "soulmates" were not real and all fiction as often seen in movies, but when he met Cha Hae-in and slowly found himself falling for her, Jin-woo accepted that it was real. . . But he did not know how painful it would be once he lost her.

Cha Hae-in became a big part of him. So, she brought along the other half of his soul when she left the world. It was truly the worst part of loving someone.

He gave his heart and fate took it away.

For years, Jin-woo witnessed people age and pass away. Him? He remained young. With the loss of the person he wished to grow old with, left him in a curse called immortality. His sister had passed away and his best friend, Yoo Jin-ho, followed shortly. They had each other. Jin-woo had no one, seeking comfort to his mother, who had lost his dad — her soulmate.

The only way for him to retrieve his mortality was to meet his soulmate and fall in love all over again.

His heart clenched. Just how many years would he have to wait? Jin-woo found no reason to be happy anymore. He was alive, but at what cost?

One day, he reached out to the Rulers and requested them to use the Cup of Reincarnation. Restart the whole world. Bring back the people who were once dead. And most of all, give everyone a second chance.

Jin-woo knew he was not the only one. His mother deserved to be with his father once again. Jin-ah would've loved to see her family whole from the afterlife, and Jin-ho would've wanted him to search for Hae-in. He waited long enough, and it hurt him every day, so it was time for him to search his soulmate all while waiting still.

Short, blonde hair and gentle grey eyes. He remembered her looks as if it was yesterday. Her smile was like a ray of sunlight casting through the shadows, radiating warmth to those in her presence, and her heart — strong and kind, withstood against the worst adversaries and battles in her life, becoming her shield as she fought with her sword. It made it impossible to meet a woman like her again.

Jin-woo swore to never make the same mistake twice.

"I'm not sure if that's really him," Yoon-ho sighed, putting down his glass of soju. "That red hair could belong to anyone. But there were too many people walking past me to even notice closely."

"If your instincts are strong, then it could be Choi Jong-in. Though, it might be that you missed him so much that anyone with red hair would be automatically him." Jin-woo said.

"I've mourned him for years, Jin-woo. Jong-in has never left my mind and I never stopped longing."

Jin-woo frowned at Baek Yoon-ho, who had become his close friend amidst their years of being immortals. "You'll meet him soon, hyung. Dungeons no longer exist in this timeline anymore, it will be easier for us to reunite with our soulmates."

"Well, I wish I have some luck. Hee-jin has already met Eun-seok, yet she doesn't know how to get close to him without making it look weird."

He chuckled. "I'm sure she will figure it out. Ju-hee is in a similar situation and she texts me all the time."

"Of course, it's her first time meeting Byung-gyu. She doesn't know how lucky she is to be his soulmate once he falls for her." Yoon-ho playfully shook his head. "Though, aren't you supposed to be envious?"

"I am. Well, quite. But it's not like I am gonna express it to her, am I? Ju-hee's my friend, and I want her to be happy after all she had been through and without worrying about me."

"Someday, it will your turn to be happy, Jin-woo," Yoon-ho smiled. "Hae-in is probably out there, waiting for you as well."

Jin-woo smiled back and nodded, raising his glass. "And I look forward to yours, hyung."

The two men clicked their glasses together and continued to drink as they chattered.

They soon bid their farewell and went to their respective ways. Even though Yoon-ho was uncertain, Jin-woo was glad that he had caught a glimpse of Jong-in, but if it was someone else, at least it would be a sign. Hee-jin had already crossed paths with her soulmate and Ju-hee as well, and sooner or later, she would return to being a mortal. Jin-woo doubted Byung-gyu would take long to fall in love with her.

His mom? Jin-woo had never seen her so happy.

A few months since the Chalice of Rebirth, Kyung-hye had met Il-hwan when she saw a burning apartment on her way home. One of the firefighters noticed her and escorted her safely through the scene. She told Jin-woo how the feeling was similar to back when they were in their youths.

When he returned home, Jin-woo did not know there was a surprise waiting for him.

"Mom! I'm—"

"Jin-woo!" Kyung-hye greeted him from the kitchen.

Jin-woo paused on the doorway, widening his eyes. "Dad?"

"Huh?" Il-hwan flashed him an odd look.

"Oh! S— sorry!" Jin-woo quickly apologized. "It's— uh, I haven't had someone to consider as a father in years. So seeing you with my mom brings out the feeling."

Il-hwan laughed. "It's okay, young man. I still don't have a kid of my own, so I would've mind treating you like one. I have a co-worker whom I treat the same."

Jin-woo chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "So, I assume you and my mom had dinner?"

"Yes. The food is delicious." Il-hwan smiled. "It makes me question my cooking abilities."

"I'm sure yours taste fine, sir. I hope you'll come by here next time."

"Thank you, Jin-woo," Il-hwan ruffled the younger man's hair and walked past him, heading to the door.

Jin-woo watched him leave over his shoulder. Warmth lingered in his chest. Shorter hair fit his dad better, it made him look more human rather than a "Vessel". Kyung-hye finished washing the dishes when he approached the table, seeing the meal she had prepared, causing his stomach to growl.

"Your father visited moments ago," said Kyung-hye. "And he brought flowers!"

Jin-woo let out a grin. "It seems you are becoming a mortal, mom. Dad likes you, which is weird since I'm your child."

Kyung-hye chuckled. "Oh, just think of it as witnessing the love story between your parents, son. So, have you met Hae-in?"

"No. . . "

"I'm sure you'll meet her one day," Kyung-hye made her way toward him and craned his head down to plant a kiss on the side of his head. "Don't give up."

"I've been an immortal for so long, I should be used to waiting forever, but seeing how others finally reuniting with their soulmates makes me feel. . . Lost."

"Jin-woo. . . "

"I know, mom. I have to hold on for a bit longer." Love takes patience. Jin-woo reminded himself. But how was it that he had been patient since forever and he was still yearning?

"So, you were walking out of your apartment when a robber rushed in and snatched your bag?"

"Yes, sir."

"And do you know what the robber looked like?"

"No, sir. He wears a black hoodie and a mask. Oh! He has spikey purple hair too!"

"Okay, miss. We'll just check the surveillance cameras on this block and get right on to it." Woo Jin-chul nodded. "Let's go, Sung."

Jin-woo followed suit, and then suddenly, something caught the corner of his eye. His steps abruptly stopped and he whirled his gaze across the street, eyeing the people strolling around until a particular individual sparked his senses. Golden locks of short hair and an athletic build, carrying a gym bag on her shoulder as she headed to the stairway that led to the train station.

Without a fleeting thought, Jin-woo dashed across the road, not caring about the green light.

"Oi! Detective Sung!"

He ignored Jin-chul's shout as he went to the same path she — Hae-in — took, squeezing through the crowd and brushing off their complaints at him. Other people was the least of his worry because what mattered most was reaching the girl whom he had waited for his entire life.

Don't let her disappear, Jin-woo.

You've waited for this. For her.

She's alive!

Feet squeaked against the floor and Jin-woo looked around through the throng of people in frantic. The second he spotted her again, he dashed and politely shoved people blocking his way, muttering his apologies and thanks despite their cold glares.

At last, he finally reached her. Jin-woo extended his hand and caught her wrist. It was as if the world turned slow, noises stopped, and the only vivid thing he could see was her face. . . Beautiful, soft, and young. Just like the Cha Hae-in he had always known and loved. For once, his heart paused its beating, similar to the way the flowers bloom as the sun glazed down, setting life and beauty throughout the things it touched.

"Uh. . . Do I know you?" Hae-in asked.

"Hi." Jin-woo let out a smile amidst his panting. He let go of her wrist. "I just came to say hi."

She blinked. "Okay. . . ?"

Seeing the discomfort in her eyes, Jin-woo quickly made his next move. "You're Cha Hae-in, right? The celebrity athlete."

"Yeah. . . I am."

"I'm a big fan of you. And— I apologize for catching up on you like this."

"No, it's fine. You seem nice." Hae-in smiled.

Jin-woo's heart swelled. He ducked his head bashfully as if he was a little kid meeting a girl for the first time. Hearing her voice again was like listening to music — his favorite music; the way she warmed up to him after knowing his intentions showed how kind and approachable she actually was.

"May I know your name is?"

Butterflies swarmed and his eyes lit up. "Sung Jin-woo."

And that was the beginning of another love story.

[datastate]

I've always been really intrigued by the contrast between his social mask and the obvious signs of... what should I call it, dishevelment? The more you find out of his character or take a close look. One thing being that his haircut is a bit uneven and seems roughly pushed away from his face in his sprite, both in flashbacks and in the main game. I find the same contrast interesting in Mishima too, especially since in-universe he seems to have a harder time being perceived as put-together or reliable until one gets to know him despite, in my perception, trying very hard to keep up a "responsible" image to people in the same way. <- rambling because it remembered that it likes YTTD

[ @prizefigures ]

yes!!! it's so interesting to me - you see them both try very hard to keep up an (effortless) act that would poise them as, well, reliable people! as you said. despite them both still being very supportive and compassionate people beneath the appearances they put on, neither of them really seem to recognize that as worthwhile (or at least, not as typically palatable, which especially applies in kazumi's case despite his best efforts :[ poor fellow...)

i actually spoke the other day on how these two's speech patterns in particular were almost... the inverse? of one another as well, which plays into what you mentioned here too. all sorts of things help them form their social masks...

kai does seem to speak very straightforwardly in his mind - with some silly similes to spice it up ("kai, your mood is as unusual as the autumn sky"). but aloud, even though he's concise, he will usually softens his words with phrases like 'may, might, perhaps' or preface with questions to reaffirm what he's been told before he actually approaches an answer/response. he's rarely brazen unless he believes there's danger (the only times you'd even see him raise his voice in-game is when he's trying to get sara's attention, at the threat of death) - he tries to keep himself composed for the most part!

but like you said, as you learn about kai or get closer to him (ytts is really good for this), you do start to see the cracks begin to show. he's still very much learning how to... be a person, not just an extension of asunaro. it's what contributes to that subtle disarray, because you see the him wear his asunaro uniform (which he couldn't discard, because it still feels to be an intrinsic part of him despite years spent with the chidouins), contrasted with the apron (which he wouldn't discard, for it is cherished). and while he's clearly grown to accept and even enjoy having long hair now, he hasn't yet learned how to take care of it.

it really is interesting seeing these small signs of him still piecing together what his life, who 'kai', could be! and when people like kazumi, reko, nao dig a bit deeper because they want to know kai, they see more of those uncertainties that he learned to mask. it's really touching seeing the moment where kazumi begins to unveil him in a very kind way and kai ends up asking him to stop, because it's such a large step in trust that kai wasn't prepared for...

that scene always hits me :'] yours are hands filled with affection toward another... ahhh.

& then you see what kai does for kazumi in return too... because, despite the occasional 'you really are a bit [intense] aren't you' -- it isn't necessarily a bad thing! just an energy that kai wouldn't usually match, but is nonetheless unique to kazumi himself. and for that, kai insists to him that perfection isn't what he should be seeking out, but rather he should concentrate his efforts foremost on his skills and passions; hone in on what only he can and present that to the world irregardless of people's more superficial reactions toward his appearance or how he presents it. which is really what kazumi needed to hear, considering he started out the event with:

I wish I were a truly fine teacher, the kind who could answer any question I'm asked… Right now… it feels like I'm just barely managing to teach art and how to study…

which, getting back to how they phrase things... for kazumi, you can see the shift of how he phrases things when spoken aloud, highly influenced due to his career as a teacher. people will always be looking to him for answers, and he tries his best to provide them with confidence so they will 1) take his words to heart, but also 2) consider him reliable. because he wants to be able to support other people, and he's clearly very compassionate. even his questions are typically directed to hear out the other person's perspective. if he doesn't know something, he will of course need to ask, but typically he still prefers framing himself as someone who is knowledgeable. where even in that, he implicitly emphasizes the importance of listening to others to make sense of the world.

while he doesn't exactly try to completely conceal his past or his mistakes, because he understands he still needs to utilize them to connect with students to reassure them that he understands (like with nao), he is still disappointed if it seems that this is... all that someone sees within him. you see this especially with sara commenting that he's a good liar, along with how frantic he gets over the cigar/cigarette issue, that he feels he has a duty to uphold being a responsible teacher. but it's especially interesting seeing that even with people like kai and keiji prodding at him for this, he still typically denies himself that indulgence before other adults.

that reluctance is actually partially what has brought me to believe that he's a recovering addict. so alongside the teacher persona, which he easily grasps onto to excuse this, he could even be using that to kind of. conceal himself behind too. with keiji, and implied with nao, you see him mention how time is the only thing which helped him heal from the mistakes of his past -- and it could very well be that the solution he found at the end of that, to become a teacher, is the thing that truly pulled him out of that. perhaps privately, he still seems to associate himself as irresponsible when he doesn't have the weight of being a mentor. which is what leads him toward boasting such confidence, using white lies (i do feel like, bc of this, it was particularly significant for him to admit how much he still didn't know to kai), and doubting himself...

i do wonder how difficult the start of the school years always seems to be for him in this case. even if he knows it simply takes a while for the students to understand who he tries to be, it must be so stressful/demoralizing to bear that at the start of every year. but he does get back into the rhythm of things! he's very good with people... probably one of the most socially-adept people, up there with joe's skills.

it's funny that, even after going on about all this. i wouldn't consider either of them to be necessarily... insecure people. more than anything, i'd say that they're just. uncertain, and are scared to admit that. for kai, being uncertain is to proclaim that he isn't fully living, isn't cherishing that gift granted to him. for kazumi, it means admitting that for all he says, he doesn't have an answer for himself as to whether or not he can really accomplish what he's dedicated his life to after fumbling with it for much longer than the average person. they're both trying to understand where they go from here after practically... rebuilding themselves from the ground up. (kai with asunaro, of course; kazumi with the whole. ego death lol)

but when they look upon each other, they're still. very kind. and they offer what they believe the other wants or needs. there's a lot of trust between them, because they're trying to show that... it's safe to let those masks fall aside; that doing so won't mean losing the respect and love they'd want to harbor, things that feel as though they're at risk if they can't keep up appearances. but having that comfort with each other is really... special :']

[fairycosmos]

what was your sister like? What was your favourite thing about her? Sending love 💖💖💖

she was a wonderful person so it's really hard to say - i hate talking about her these days honestly only because talking about dead people seems to fictionalise or almost characterise them in some way when everything about her was so real and genuine and personable, and i never spoke about her this way when she was alive. she was just like, my cool big sister and she truly existed in that causal, loving way that isn't linked to the formality of death. she loved animals, she loved other people - she was vegan from a young age and had a lot of empathy for others. she'd been put through a lot ever since she was a kid, and there was a lot working against her, but she still managed to be kind and funny and outgoing and bright. she did have a lot of anger in her, and most of it was righteous. i always thought she deserved so much better than every single hand she was dealt, even having me as a sister. ever since she's died, i've tried to put myself in her shoes to understand her better, and i understand why things were so hard for her in a way i didn't realise when she was here. even though we were so close and i thought i understood her well, i think there was a lot she was carrying that i was ignorant to which is a huge regret. but honestly everything i've learned about being a person and being real has come from her - so much of me is just her. the music i like, the way i live my life, my mannerisms. she was much smarter than she ever gave herself credit for because a lot of ppl would just focus on how she looked or how she partied or whatever. anyway i always used to say her personality was kind of the quintessential libra (appreciative of beauty, romance, balance, living well) and we used to share a room so i used to read her her horoscope every morning each month lol. she was just a really cool person. would-give-you-the-shirt-off-their back type of woman. i'm 23 now and i still can't believe she was only 22 when she went. it's so so so unfair. i wish it wasn't so sad every time i talked about her though. i wish it felt like we were all just having a drink and a laugh with her

[riddlerosehearts]

okay. so. overall i loved this latest twst update but there were a couple things i didn't 100% love and i'll talk about one of them in this post: the shroud parents being so nice and loving and helpful seriously threw me off last time they appeared because i thought they always seemed so emotionally distant before. both from how idia talked about them on occasion and how they never once appeared in his very lengthy, two-part overblot flashback, not when he was shutting himself in his room for 2 whole years or when he finished creating ortho--the only adults we ever saw were STYX researchers. so like, i'd always had the impression that they weren't necessarily The Worst Parents Ever but that they were just so busy with their work that they forgot to pay attention to their kids. and when they first appeared in book 7, it felt like they were behaving exactly how a lonely little robot boy who knew that he was "replacing" their dead son would want them to act, and even looked that way too with the daft punk helmets giving them a robotic look. it just seemed too good to be true imo.

after that update came out i had read a theory that said maybe malleus was so powerful that he could put even a robot to sleep, and that that was what we were seeing: ortho dreaming of getting to be a hero and save the day, and getting to have this perfect happy family. i loved that idea. i probably should've realized a twist like that wasn't going to happen when we still hadn't checked back in on ortho after so many months, but i just thought, and still think, that it would be so compelling if ortho wished to be loved and accepted so badly that some part of him deep down had become human enough to dream, or at least for malleus to be able to bring out that part of him. if his parents weren't so loving in reality and maybe didn't even fully accept him as their son, so he dreamt that they would--which is a heartbreaking thought, but i definitely would not have put it past twst to do that. i also just like... think it would be neat if the development ortho has been getting in events and vignettes, which heavily focuses on his growing sense of autonomy and how he's started to have his own desires outside of his intended purpose of just Being Idia's Brother, was given a little more focus in the main story.

anyway though. obviously that theory just got obliterated by canon! so i guess the most logical explanation for the discrepancy in the shroud parents' portrayal might be that they were too emotionally distant and focused on their work before, and remained that way for a long time after ortho's death, but eventually they "woke up" and realized they'd never really been there for their sons. losing one of them changed them for the better and now they really are that helpful and sweet. if their behavior seems too good to be true then it could be because they're trying their hardest to make up for the years they wasted, to be a proper family now. maybe they didn't accept ortho for the longest time out of grief and that's part of why they never appeared in idia's flashback, but they later decided that just because they can never truly regain or replace the son they lost, doesn't mean they can't treasure the one they still have and the one that they've gained. and i guess the shroud parents still fully accepting ortho and loving him as one of their own despite the tragedy that led them to become family, and despite the fact that ortho does not have the shroud family blood flowing through his (nonexistent) veins, would parallel the bond that lilia has with silver and malleus... oh. okay. i think i've kinda just talked myself into feeling better about this, actually.

[idv-sweethearts]

Glad we're in agreement haha! Consider me a loyal customer since I have notifications on and RUNN here when you post

You'll never guess who I'm here to request(it's luchino 😞) I like my men a little protective and you're the first person to indulge my luchino crave so you could write luchino getting a little jealous and possessive during a match?

Also I've never been a recurring anon before I've seen some sign off with an emoji should I do that?

Luchino (Professor) Getting Protective ☕️

Notes: I do recommend that you find yourself a nickname or an emoji or something of that nature to sign your asks. I do enjoy having a loyal customer. Might I suggest something to do with reptiles? Btw, I'm so eager to write for Luchino today as I had a very interesting series of thoughts yesterday while zoning out into the wood patterns of the living room table. Cannibalism is bad in most situations, it's not vegan, and the only difference between humans and animals is intelligence, but that doesn't matter to vegans ^_^. Probably. I'm not vegan.

Luchino is not normally so reckless or irrational. So long as he can wrap his head around something, he can be rational about it. Relaxed, even. He was, in canon, transformed slowly into a human-sized, bipedal reptile and carried on as though nothing objectively horrifying had happened.

It makes sense. Humans are little different from animals, so why be concerned when one becomes the other? Even "human" intelligence, the only major difference between the two, is only present because it gives humans an advantage. And how prideful humans are to think the distance between them and a lizard isn't the same as a rodent and the bird that hunts it?

Unlike his immeasurable interest in reptiles and evolution, social interactions are illogical and difficult to navigate. He does his best to calculate the most appropriate expressions and words and gestures, but there are still things he can find no logic in.

What is logical to him, however, is that it takes only a moment for a calm, reasonable scene to decompose into a unmanageable hellscape comparable in sense to a nightmare. And it takes even less time for a human to become something truly horrid. Or perhaps all beings this way, hiding their true nature behind kind words and gentle smiles.

So, today, what is Luchino? He is a Survivor, always at your side either physically or figuratively, from the moment he realized he had grown fond of you. He aids you in every way he can, as he'd hate to see you suffer. He's always watching and listening during matches to determine your approximate location. It is better to know than to not know, he thinks. And if you need it, he'll drop everything to ensure your safety, as he has done today.

Furthermore, who are you? You are a Survivor, like him. And, in the chaos of it all, you've been cast aside. Left to die for the sake of a "victory" they may not even achieve, but where is any victory at all in an outcome where you must die so they can leave?

And finally, who are they? They, Hunters and Survivors barely different in this situation, are selfish scum who would prioritize their own lives and wishes over yours. Well, to say they're all so terrible would be hypocritical, as it seems Luchino has prioritized your life over all of theirs, his included. If his life were to conclude, in this hellscape or nightmare or whatever you want to call it, then he's satisfied with that outcome if it means you live to see another day.

So, only one question remains. Who, in this frenzy, is the monster, if there is even a difference between humans and monsters at all? Is the true monster the "Hunter", the more literal monster, who brought you so close to death? Those two other Survivors who left you to die, but were soon torn from the victory they yearned for before they had the chance to struggle or even crawl? Or Luchino himself, who lifted you from the chair, from the depths of Hell they were willing to leave you in, and pulled you toward the exit without even looking back at the nightmarish state he left the others in?

Perhaps you, who witnessed every desperate murmur, every panicked scream, and every dying breath as your beloved partner traded a win for a tie, could provide some kind of answer.

[edogawa-division]

ARB Birthday Special 2024: Yuriko Kuromiya

~~ December 22nd ~~

“Death is not the opposite of life, but a part of it.”

Login Lines:

“It’s quiet today…too quiet. I've forgotten something major. I know it. What on earth is the question-hm? Oh, it’s you. What is it?”  

“A gift? ….Ah. That explains the feeling I've been getting all day. Well, thank you. I do appreciate it.”

Voice Lines:

“Everyone is telling me how they can’t believe that I’m turning 36 years old and how I look no older than my mid-20s. I honestly don’t care for their words but I suppose I can’t blame them. I’ve aged better than most have over the years.”

“If one more person asks me when I’m going to settle down I’m going to snap. I don’t give a damn about this so-called “time limit” I have and how my window of having biological kids is getting shorter and shorter each year. I’m content where I am with no partner, plus Kaoru and Kanra are enough as it is. A newborn would only make my life more chaotic.” 

“I had planned on going to work today, but the coroner’s office called to tell me that I had the day off since it was my birthday. I’m afraid I’m unsure what to do today with all this free time. I’m used to being constantly busy one way or another. It’s quite an odd feeling.”

“Father…I wish you were still here some days. I’ve long made peace with your death, but sometimes I wonder what could’ve been. I’m sure you would've enjoyed meeting those two gremlins I call daughters. Perhaps you could have taught them a trick or two.”

“Are you still singing that song, Kaoru? Uh-huh…and how many times have you seen “Wicked” since it came out? I can’t believe you would…no actually, I can believe you would do that. We’ll talk about your new obsession later, but speaking of gifts, what do you have for me this year? I want to hope that it’s nothing insane but knowing you I shouldn’t expect that.” 

“This is surprisingly tame for you, Kaoru. Oh no, what did you do to it? Dammit, I knew I should’ve expected another deranged gift from you. Only you would think to coat a person's nail in a dangerous fatal poison Kaoru. One question, though, why green? Why not black or violet? The colors I normally wear. Kaoru…stop watching “Wicked” I beg of you. *sighs* …There she goes, I truly can’t with her sometimes.” 

“Hello there, Kanra. Your gift wouldn’t happen to be as manic as Kaoru’s would it? Just a touch, dear. I love her but sometimes I wonder if she was dropped on her head as a baby. *snorts* Can’t lose what was never truly there. Oh, you should know I’d love any gift from you Kanra. You’re my sweet girl after all. ” 

“I’m an albino Kanra I can’t help that light and I do not mix but it is a lovely gift. It’ll be especially helpful in the summer so I don’t burn. Just thinking about that time makes me wish it could stay winter forever. Oh, hush you we all have our preferences. Yes yes, lead the way dear. Your cakes are to die for.”

Kaoru Lines:

“Popular~! You’re gonna be popular~! Sorry! It’s just really catchy even if I like Elphaba over Glinda. Just 2 okay maybe…22 times. It’s such a good movie you wouldn’t understand, but enough about that, it’s your special day! Happy birthday, Yuriko! I got you a little gift to celebrate! So here! Hope you enjoy it!”   

“Oh, you should know by now, Yuriko, that I’d give you something more than some simple nail polish. First, I made it myself, and second, it contains a deadly fast-action poison that'll kill anyone in minutes if you scratch them. Hm? Why green? Oh, I got the idea after seeing Elphaba’s nails. Like they’re such a stunning shade of green, and your nails are pretty long, so I thought it was perfect. Nope, I'm riding this obsession until the very end, Yuriko! Anyway, I’m off to recreate Glinda’s bubble now since I’m done with Elphaba’s broom! Bye!” 

Kanra Lines:

“Happy Birthday, Yuriko-san! Did Kaoru go crazy with her gift again? Sounds like her and it doesn’t help that I heard her laughing from her lab all week. I think she’s finally losing her sanity. If it makes you feel better my gift is way more tame than hers. It’s not much but I think you get better use out of it than Kaoru’s.” 

“I know you don’t like the sun or any type of light, actually, so I thought you’d like a parasol. Considering how you burn in the summer sun I can’t blame you for not liking the season but stay in winter? It’s too cold for me. I already sleep with 4 blankets. Hehehe yeah, I like spring more. Now come on! I have your cake already made and it’s tea-flavored too! So hurry up!”  

[yukidragon]

Sunny Day Jack - Reincarnation Headcanons

It’s been a while since I’ve gone on a proper ramble for Sunny Day Jack, so let’s start getting the ball rolling again with some good old shameless OTP self-indulgence, shall we? I have no idea how long my momentum will last, but I’m going to do my best to have fun and see where things take me.

I just loved the script teaser for the upcoming demo update that got publicly posted over on the SnaccPop Studios Patreon. It really got me thinking, and one line in particular intrigued me.

Jack: I can’t explain it, but I know this feeling. I've felt it before. I just can’t remember where...

This really gives me strong vibes that Joseph did have someone he loved before he died… and it really makes me keen to think that MC is his reincarnated lover. Or at least they remind him of a love he lost when he was murdered. This could also be a narrative parallel with the way MC used to(?) love Ian. It’s hard to say at this point.

Regardless, this did make me immediately think of my own MC Alice’s previous incarnation, Mary, who I first mentioned in a previous ramble. I also wrote about her in this very spicy two-sided first-person story, as well as a little snippet about Mary’s potential sweet reunion with Joseph after they were separated for years.

Content Warnings: this post will have mentions of death, trauma, bullying, SA, and probably touch on other dark themes. Reincarnation stories, especially those involving murder, tend to have a bit of a dark side after all. I’ll make sure to tread lightly on these topics since the focus is on indulging in a reincarnated soulmates storyline after all. I might also indulge in some spicy thoughts as well, but we’ll see.

As I previously mentioned, I’m still on the fence about whether or not I’m going to go with the reincarnation storyline for Sunshine in Hell, or stick with it being an AU thing. There’s plenty of pros and cons for both routes in my mind, and I’m still not quite decided yet. Though playing with it more in these rambles, reading that teaser, and even seeing other MCs with past incarnations have made me start to lean in that direction.

Though… it’s pretty sad to imagine that Joseph had love in his past… only to forget about it and only remember the persona of Jack that he’s wearing now. Then again, he would no doubt be sad that his lover forgot about him too. It’s not either of their fault of course. Death is a cruel thing that takes away so much…

Still, it would make more sense why Alice would feel compelled to save Jack, not just because she was in a vulnerable place and couldn’t turn away when someone was suffering and she could help him. A part of her would feel this strong sense of longing and nostalgia, a feeling that she had been waiting for this person for such a long, long time…

It also is more reason for Jack to instantly fall in love with Alice. Even if he forgot he was Joseph and anything tied to that life… he still remembered Mary, even if only as a feeling of love. Names, faces, and places aside from the lore of Sunny Day Jack were erased, but there was only ever one person who made him feel truly loved, and she found him again, just like she did before. He might not remember it, but a part of him wished for her to find him again for 40 long years.

Naturally, with a reincarnation storyline, that means that memories of the past would inevitably return. How much and how quickly are up for debate, but most likely it would be a gradual process for both of them.

It would be interesting if Alice remembered everything first. After all, Jack is practically traumatized by the idea of being Joseph. He doesn’t want to remember being that person who made so many mistakes and was so flawed. This is especially true if his death involved horrible secrets being revealed about him… secrets he never wanted Mary to know that he feared would ruin things between them forever.

Joseph would never have told Mary about his time as a bully, or why he ran away from Haberdae High. He couldn’t forgive himself for what he did, couldn’t see anyone being able to ever love someone who did something so horrible. He couldn’t let his past mistakes ruin things. He couldn’t lose her, not after he finally found her again. He wanted to be a better person for himself and for her.

Mary hated bullies, and Joseph had become the worst of the worst of them. Even if she hadn’t been his victim personally, he knew how she felt about bullies, how the damage they inflicted on someone never truly disappeared…

Having his ugly past revealed before her and the entire world in the worst way possible was no doubt soul crushing.

If the two of them had more time together, Mary could have helped Joseph open up about the things he was ashamed about and eventually forgive himself for his past mistakes, but he died at the worst possible time. It’s all the more reason why he can’t handle being Joseph anymore.

I’d have to consider all the implications of Alice remembering being Mary and if Jack would remember enough to be terrified of that idea. After all, if she remembers, sure she remembers the good moments, but she would also remember when his mask was ripped off and revealed the ugly person he was underneath. In that case, he would try to stop it from happening, deflect and avoid, terrified to let the past resurface while trying not to remember it himself.

Of course Sunshine in Hell is a story of two broken people healing and opening enough to expose their scars in order to heal. Alice would help Jack trust that he can be flawed, he can make mistakes, and she’ll still love him. It’ll take time, but eventually he’ll learn to stop hating the person he was and accept that he was always worthy of love.

While pondering possibilities, I also thought of the classic reincarnated transmigrator stories that are especially popular in the webcomic scene. The idea of Mary being reborn into her favorite story as the “villainess” Alice gives me a little chuckle. Though that’ll be an AU for another post.

Anyway, I considered how much Alice remembers of being Mary and when it started. Many reincarnation stories have the MC remember all at once when they’re young, sometimes even as a baby. That certainly wouldn’t be the case for Sunshine in Hell, since the more I thought about it, the more I knew that it would change the story, particularly when it comes to Alice and Ian’s relationship.

If Alice remembered her past life before she met Jack, it would be a painful gut punch, to say the least. There would be a strong feeling of dissociation. This life is so different from her past one, and Joseph isn’t there. It would give this feeling of not really being sure of who she was or if she should really be there. Does she deserve this life?

Then of course there’s the problems of remembering life as an adult while being stuck in a child’s body and all the issues that come with that.

Still… Mary always longed for a family who actually loved her, and Alice has that. It would be impossible for her to resist wanting to be Alice with her whole heart, to be surrounded by such love in a way she only experienced with one person. The only thing missing would be Joseph. A part of her would feel guilty about being happy without him.

But… if she was reborn, then Joseph must have been too, right? Would he remember her? How would she find him in this vast world?

Though… she did it before didn’t she? On a lonely road in the middle of nowhere, far from their old homes, somehow she found him. Even though he had changed, she still recognized him immediately. Surely she would find him again in this life too.

Mary didn’t have anyone left at the end of her life, and so she lost hope. Alice, however, has people around her who love her. She has hope and reasons to keep living. She has people who want her to be happy and feel loved, even without Joseph by her side.

So Alice would open her heart to the love all around her and live. She would also hold onto the hope that someday she would find her starlight again, no matter what name he had now.

Ian… is not Joseph. There are parallels in the game’s narrative between him and Jack, but their personalities are way too different. Ian and Alice would become friends, but romance wouldn’t develop between the two. It wouldn’t feel right for many reasons to Alice, especially since he’s just… not her starlight. She would be fond of Ian certainly and want to protect him, but she could only view him as a little brother, especially if she had the memories of an adult while they were still children.

So when poor shy Ian gathered the courage to confess to Alice, she had to gently turn him down. It just wasn’t fair to him, or to her. Maybe someday her heart will move on, but not yet, not until she finds someone who makes her feel love the way Joseph did.

Of course, if Alice remembered later on in her teens after she already had a crush on Ian, that complicates things. Sometimes traumatic incidents make people remember their past life incarnations in these stories. For Alice, her most traumatic incident was when she suffered from SA.

Boy, what an awful time to remember one’s tragic death and lost love, don’t you think?

Alice woke up in the aftermath in pain while remembering even more pain, two overlapping identities warring in her mind even as she has to deal with the fresh trauma inflicted upon her. It took her a while to process what happened to her even without adding the memories of Mary on top of all of that.

One side of Alice feels the pain of losing the love of her life as well as fresh memories of dying slowly all alone, and the other side just lost her innocence after her power and agency were stripped away from her. It would be quite a rough time, and how could she tell anyone about these memories? Who would believe her? They’re too real to feel like just a dream she had due to trauma… but what if she’s wrong? Could trauma be great enough to create memories of an entirely different life in an instant?

Fortunately, Alice has the love of her family to help her through hard times, as well as good friends like Ian to support her. It takes a while for her to really process and accept everything, but she at least knows she is loved.

In this scenario, despite the crush Alice had on Ian, she wouldn’t feel right letting it develop into anything more, especially not when her memories of Joseph and the intense love she had for him would be so much more fresh. She would feel guilty, as though she had cheated on… Ian? Joseph? Both?

Either way, Alice is not in any state to enter into a romantic relationship.

So, hey, Alice might be facing reincarnation trauma and dissociation with her identity in this AU, but she avoids a bad romantic relationship and being cheated on. Poor Ian gets turned down by his childhood friend turned crush, but at least they’re still good friends, even if she’s a bit more distant now after the… incident.

Regardless of the twists and turns remembering her past would take her to the present day, eventually Alice finds the tape. It’s just so compelling. When she sees it’s an episode of the SunnyTime Crew Show, well, there’s no way she could resist it. Just the logo would hit her with painful nostalgia and struggling not to cry in the thrift store. For a moment, she just hugs the tape to herself, remembering all the times she wrote for the show as Mary, watched the filming, and especially the last day they ever filmed… and it leaves her longing for the day she finds her starlight again.

Alice has to watch the tape.

It feels ominous too. The blood red handwritten scrawl of “‘84 Incident” makes Alice think about that incident… but surely that couldn’t be… right? LambsWork Productions destroyed every trace of the show. Surely they would’ve gone scorched earth on any recording of the murder?

Then again, if all the tapes were destroyed… that should have included the one she found in this thrift store…

Alice all but runs back home after buying the tape, not bothering with anything else she was going to purchase that day. Her hands are shaking when setting up the VCR, but fortunately she remembers how to use it. It’s almost muscle memory going through the motions of playing a VHS tape. She can’t peel her eyes away from the screen, holding her breath.

The show starts and… oh the pain from nostalgia is unlike anything else. Jack - her starlight - is there. That familiar dazzling smile shining at her as the episode starts. When he greets her and asks her name, she can’t help but answer him, though she doesn’t notice which name she gives him…

I’ve gone over thoughts of how the deal between Alice and Jack might have gone in previous posts. Seeing Joseph’s death again hurts like hell, but the moment Jack starts to talk directly to her, that’s when her heart really starts to pound.

Needless to say, Alice is just as desperate to save Jack as he is to be saved. The pact is made, and their souls are tied together, making them true soulmates.

Then again they already were even without the deal. ;3

Of course, the trauma of the pact does make Alice forget the agreement they made, but her reaction is very different when she wakes up. There’s a moment where she just has to stare at Jack, smiling gently down at her, greeting her like he used to… and she starts to shake. This isn’t a dream, is it?

Jack innocently replies that of course it’s not a dream. Her pal Sunny Day Jack is here to brighten up her day!

Jack doesn’t expect Alice to practically throw herself into his arms and hug him, but he reacts instantly to embrace her. It’s familiar, warm, wonderful, and everything he could ask for.

“I’m happy to see you too, sunshine,” Jack said with a chuckle.

Unfortunately… Jack is in character. Alice calling him Joseph is like a splash of ice, chilling him to the core and he has to correct her, gently of course.

It’s very apparent to Alice that Jack is shaken up. She tries to explain, talk of their past lives and remembering, and Jack… can’t handle it, burying himself deeply into the character of Sunny Day Jack, insisting he’s not who she thinks he is, trying to skirt away from anything Joseph. He cites off lore of the SunnyTime Crew and Sunny Day Jack that she helped write about the character back when she was on the writing staff.

It’s surreal for both of them, with mixed feelings, but Jack is ever eager to change the topic to something sunnier, to try and be the best and brightest friend known as Sunny Day Jack. Alice learns she can’t push him, at least not right now, but now… she’s left wondering if this is really Joseph… or a memory left in the tape? What if he’s just the character brought to life?

What if she lost her mind?

Still, Alice can’t bring herself to push Jack away, even if it’s a bit painful. Over time she picks up that he is Joseph after all, but he forgot everything.

Is this the result of the tape? The murder? Something else? Alice has to figure out what really happened at the studio that day. At the same time, she has to focus on figuring out where to go with Jack.

Alice wished to see Joseph again, no matter what name he had now, but she never expected something like this.

Still… she’s different now too. She’s not Mary anymore. She might have Mary’s memories, but she also has Alice’s memories, a second lifetime in different circumstances, different choices and experiences. She’s different from who she used to be.

So what does that mean for her and Joseph Jack?

Obviously the shadow of Joseph scares Jack. Alice won’t force him to remember, not when his death and what came after were so horrible. Instead she tries to get to know who he is now and figure out where to go from there.

Alice quickly falls in love with Jack. He’s not Joseph, and yet the important parts of him that she fell in love with are still the same. She sees little things of Joseph in him, but he’s also different at the same time. He’s changed, he’s masking things, but he’s still her silly starlight who never failed to make her smile.

Jack tries to overlook memories Alice stirs up in him, hints of sunshine that looked a bit different, but with the same beautiful blue eyes that always held such warmth. He focuses solidly on the present and enjoying his life now with his sunshine.

Still, Joseph’s habits slowly come back in spite of himself. Alice makes him feel so loved and accepted. He has moments where he slips, and she loves him despite it.

Needless to say, this AU would also have a happy ending. They would also get together much sooner than the main universe. While Alice would be trying to keep a respectable distance to understand who Jack was now as he is without forcing him to be someone he doesn’t want to be anymore or pushing her feelings and memories on him, Jack is a yandere who wants her badly. He’s going to notice her feelings quickly and do everything he can to encourage them.

Since Alice doesn’t have baggage from her toxic relationship with Ian holding her back, and she’s been aching to be with Joseph for so long, it won’t be long before her resolve crumbles. He’s always been so good at seducing her, even while dressed up as a silly clown. He might be wearing a different name and look, but he’s still her starlight, and he always had a knack for making her feel so loved, precious, and irreplaceable.

Jack might have buried his memories, but he’s quick to remember all of the ways he could make his sunshine melt in his arms. There are small hiccups due to her SA trauma as he has to be careful about the triggers she has from that, but he’s patient and gentle with her. He thoroughly focuses on her pleasure and comfort, making sure she feels nothing but safe and loved the entire time.

Needless to say, Alice’s first time in this universe is much more pleasant than it is in the main timeline.

It all feels familiar to both of them, the physical and emotional aspects of making love that they experienced countless times in the past, but the feelings are more intense due to the supernatural connection between them making their feelings bleed into one another. Jack at times is almost overwhelmed by nostalgia, but it doesn’t scare him when they’re making love. The nickname of “starlight” Alice used for him was always familiar, but it didn’t upset him like the name “Joseph” did, not when it’s his sunshine calling him that, saying she loves him, and kissing him so tenderly. She makes sure to call him Jack or starlight even while she’s screaming in pleasure beneath him. She’s careful to avoid old names that bring him pain, focusing on who he is now, taking care not to push him when she senses it’s causing him distress. She cares just as much about his comfort and avoiding his triggers just as he does for her.

That increase in intimacy, both physical and emotional, is the trigger that starts Jack really remembering things as Joseph, but not in a negative way. It’s an addicting feeling, one that’s hard to resist, especially when it feels so, so good and comes with so much pleasure and love.

Still, at some point Jack starts to get those fears of Alice learning… something. He still flees from those bad memories, not even wanting to know what that something was.

But over time… Alice helps Jack accept his past. It takes him a while, but when he’s forced to face it and she reinforces the fact that she accepts him, even the awful things he did back then, that she still loves him… he practically collapses into her arms, crying, just so relieved.

For 40 years he was convinced that the reveal destroyed everything, robbed him of love, and it… didn’t. Alice lets Jack be who he wants to be and accepts the mistakes he made in the past who are a part of the person he is today. She loves him even with all his flaws, and she wants to help him to keep growing to become the person that he wants to be, because he’s always been the person she wants to be with, flaws and all.

It still takes Jack a while to accept his past identity as Joseph, but Alice helps him. She can also relate, as it took her a while to accept her past incarnation as Mary too. It’s something they both can understand intimately. Even if their circumstances for being reborn as new people are different, they both understand each other in a way no one else can, and they help each other navigate what it means to live a new life while being haunted by the memories of a previous one that was less than ideal.

Fortunately, this time, their love story has a happy ending instead of a tragic one.

@channydraws @earthgirlaesthetic @sai-of-the-7-stars @cheriihoney @illary-kore @okamiliqueur